Hunter II

by Heath Stallcup

  I leaned against the counter and eyed him cautiously. “And what lesser god are we talking about here?”

  He held his hand up again. “I’m not at liberty to say more unless you are willing to take the assignment; we can’t chance you going rogue.”

  It was my turn to laugh. “Ha! You think I’m stupid? You want to sic me on a god, of all things, and then you want me to accept the challenge without even knowing what he did or even who he is? Do you think me daft?”

  “I think you like to be paid.”

  “I told you. I have no use for your gold or silver. Jewels mean nothing to me. I’m already more or less immortal, and I have no desire to ever love again.”

  He crossed his arms and stared at me once more. There was that feeling. I wanted to look down to see if my fly was open.

  “What is the one thing you do not have?”

  I shrugged. “A small pecker?”

  “How about a soul?”

  Okay. He had my attention.

  Chapter 2

  “HOLD ON. MY soul?”

  He shrugged.

  “You can do that?”

  He snapped his fingers. “As easy as that.”

  I swallowed hard and tried to imagine. It had been nearly four full centuries since I last had a soul. I couldn’t remember what it was like, having something to lose. I stood and slowly paced, chewing my thumbnail down to the quick; his offer was definitely tempting me.

  “Imagine, Sven. You are immortal. You can walk in daylight. Imagine if you had a soul again…”

  I turned and couldn’t find the words. I struggled for a moment then heard myself ask, “And what would having my soul do for me?”

  “You’d never need blood again. You could eat like a human being. You’d live in the sunlight in every way; no more hiding who you are. Your years wouldn’t be shortened, you would remain forever…” he looked me up and down, “young-ish. Just as now, the only thing that could truly kill you would be silver or beheading.”

  “Fire? Dismemberment? Leprosy?”

  He shook his head. “You’d heal. Just as quickly as you do now.”

  I felt my legs weaken and I quickly sat atop a barstool. My mind raced so fast that I actually felt like no rational thought could take root.

  “Have a moment. I’m sure it will take some time to process.” He stepped into the kitchen and dug into the grocery bag. “Meanwhile, I want a snack.”

  I watched him rub a pat of butter in the skillet I kept atop the stove. He flipped on the burner and it took me a moment to realize he was about to eat my steak.

  At that moment, I really didn’t care. I watched him sear both sides, sprinkle a few herbs and spices across the crust then set the lid over it for a moment. The smell of cow flesh searing had my mouth watering and I felt a tear form when he turned off the burner and lifted the rare steak from the pan with his fingers. He tore into the meat with his teeth and I watched with envy as blood ran down his chin. “Now this is worth coming to the ground for.”

  Son of a bitch. Sure, I could get another, but I had hand chosen that one and intended on eating it myself. I tried to ignore his actions and various slurping sounds and turned my attention back to his offer.

  “Tell me more of this lesser god that needs killing.”

  He smiled again and tossed the uneaten half of my steak over his shoulder. I couldn’t help but follow the arc and watch it splat atop the marble counter.

  “Ah! So you’re taking the contract.”

  “I’m not saying yes,” I corrected. “But I’m also not declining the offer. Yet. I can’t possibly accept a job with no details past ‘kill the god.’”

  The angel leaned against the countertop and stared at me. He glanced quickly over his shoulder as though we might be watched then lowered his voice. “I’m breaking the rules here, you know.” He glanced again then leaned toward me. “You know him as Loki.”

  You could have knocked me over with a feather. Okay, a very large feather. Tied to a baseball bat. But still.

  “Loki?”

  The angel nodded. “He’s the troublesome son of an ice troll.”

  So the stories were true. “And your boss…the Jewish carpenter, he wants him dead.”

  I could tell I hit a nerve. He rolled his eyes and practically groaned his answer. “Well, not exactly Him. Like I said, I have many bosses. Let’s just say someone between Him and me…middle management. They want him dead.”

  It was my turn to raise a brow. “And if the big boss gets wind of this little activity?”

  He shrugged. “Look. There are more important things for the higher-ups to deal with, you know…Time, the Cosmos, the Furies, the Internet…He’s pretty much aware of everything, so He must know about it and since He hasn’t told us ‘no’ or tried to stop us, we figure that’s the same as giving us the green light.”

  I needed to know that this offer was on the up and up. “So, if I perform this, err, mission, regardless of what the big boss says about it, I still get my soul back. Right?”

  “Absolutely. A deal is a deal.”

  I stood and squared my shoulders. “Deal.” I held my hand out and he deftly pressed the parchment into it.

  “A drop of blood is all we need.”

  I stared at him a moment, unsure what he meant. He pointed to the parchment. “Just bleed and press your finger on the bottom line.”

  I raised my hand to my mouth and pressed my thumb to the top of my fang. I felt it puncture and I squeezed a drop out before it could heal. I was just about to press my thumb to the parchment when I paused. Would they be able to tell that Nephilim blood ran through my veins? Would it matter to them that I had eaten one of their half brothers? I slowly pressed my thumb to the parchment and rolled it, leaving my print as boldly as I could.

  He said his boss “pretty much” saw everything, so surely they already knew. I mean…this guy knew that I was a daywalker and so on. I looked to him and he smiled. He checked my print, blew across the crimson drops, then rolled the parchment up again. I watched him tuck it into his coat, then he gave me a curt nod.

  “Your weapons will be delivered shortly.”

  “But how will I find Loki?”

  His smile broadened. “That information will be included with the weapons shipment. Pay close attention to the ‘Use and Caution’ portions of the instructions.”

  He turned and walked toward the door. I rounded the bar to walk him out, but, yeah…he was no longer standing in my house. However he had gotten in, he left the same way. Faster than a thought and without fanfare, he had simply vanished.

  I stared at the empty space a moment then snapped back to the present. “What have I gotten myself into?”

  I REALIZED AFTER he left that I had no idea what his name was. Was he even who he claimed to be? Did he have the authority to order a hit on a god, much less fetch back a centuries old soul? I had this general feeling of foreboding which was growing into panic. I began regretting my decision. I think I was having what is known as “buyer’s remorse.”

  I had just sat on the couch when there was a sharp knock on my door. I stood and held the door knob, half hoping my angelic visitor would be standing there. Perhaps there was a tidbit of knowledge he had forgotten to share. Perhaps he would let me in on the “catch” that I was certain must be in the contract somewhere–the very contract that I failed to actually read before I signed in blood.

  I pulled the door open and stared at a large wooden crate. No delivery person was waiting for a signature, no truck pulling away. It was as if the box had appeared just as the angel had and knocked on my door by its own power.

  I lifted it, brought it into the living room, and set it on the short coffee table. The lid was no trouble, I pried it off and tossed it to the floor. I moved aside the straw packing material and stared into the crate which appeared to be much deeper inside than the outer dimensions revealed. The first things I saw were these ornately engraved golden blades. Mixed in were bolts that would fit
the crossbow Orel had left behind in my care; must be a standard issue. Once these were removed, I could see a wide golden cuff with a shield engraved on it gleaming from the bottom. I lifted it and studied the markings. I couldn’t read them, but I knew that this was a very specially made piece, designed to be worn just above the wrist.

  I slipped the likely cursed cuff on and felt it tighten against my flesh of its own accord. I shook my arm to loosen it, and the most curious thing happened. It released a shield that appeared to be made of a vibrating blue energy. The disc-shaped energy snapped and hissed but added no weight to the cuff. I moved it about and even conjured the bravery to touch the blue light with my finger. It gave a pretty smart shock but it wasn’t lethal.

  I twisted my wrist again and watched the blue energy dissipate. Another twist ignited it once more and one more twist made it disappear. This could come in handy. After ol’ Loki was dead, perhaps I could convince the angel to let me keep it. I smiled to myself and thought, It could be lost in battle. They’d never know the difference.

  I dug through the blades and played with them, swishing them through the air, arcing over my head, thrusting forward. I found them perfectly balanced. The bolts, as I suspected, were nearly identical to the ones that Orel had used, only these were gold tipped. Some were blunt, obviously to be used to stun the god, but the others were sharpened to a razor’s edge.

  A handle gleamed at me from the bottom of the crate and I pulled it carefully out. It was a long sword, ornate and highly adorned; it appeared more for show than for killing, and it was downright intimidating. I hefted the blade and was shocked at the lightness; I had balanced for a big lift and was thrown a step backwards by my momentum. As I practiced swinging it, I could almost feel the blade whirring in my hand. The energy sensation tingled up through my arm and settled into my elbow.

  I swung it across my body, ending with a vertical poise in front of my chest. I reached out to touch the blade. It most definitely had been vibrating but quickly ceased as the blade stopped moving. Curious, indeed.

  I continued to dig through the fibrous packing material, and at the bottom was a leather folder. Inside were pages of information on Loki, a full dossier. And not just his last known location and pictures of the human meat suit he was wearing, but his preferences–that was a short list. Wine, women, and recreational drugs. Didn’t surprise me; I thumbed through the file then set it aside.

  A thorough inspection of the crate revealed no other weapons. I stared at the small stack of golden goodies and wondered if a god…even a lesser god, could actually be killed with these things.

  The smell of the steak still hung in the air so I snatched the small bit left by my dinner guest from the counter along with a bag of blood and settled in to study what I had on Loki. I munched on the meat only halfheartedly as I studied the angelic intelligence.

  Apparently, Loki had slipped into the shell of some dot com billionaire. Why bother with a peasant when you can blow through somebody else’s money? And from what I was reading, he was having a blast doing just that. Fast cars, gambling, prostitutes, drugs, penthouse living…Earthliness was just one big party for him.

  I noted a projected agenda and smiled to myself. Boston. I wouldn’t even have to travel for this one. I glanced at the date he was due in Bean Town. I had just a few days before he showed for some well-known high stakes poker game.

  I closed the file and stacked it with the weapons. It was time to pack and get my ass on the road. I had to recon the area where this poker game would take place.

  I HAD REPLACED the old VW bus that I inherited from Gibby with a newer model four-wheel drive truck. It was dark grey and had a double cab; useful for locking up equipment. It wasn’t too flashy, but it was tough and dependable and would get the job done.

  I cruised by Boston’s tourist-oriented docklands; the sea air reminded me of my younger years. I parked the truck nearby and stared at the Battery Wharf Hotel, host to the big game.

  A quick phone call to the front desk verified that Mr. Wolf Ahmendson, aka Loki, had reserved a room there for the weekend, though the twit wouldn’t give me the room number. Pretending to be his “personal assistant” left a bad taste in my mouth but at least I had confirmed where the mischievous bastard planned to be holed up.

  I exited the truck and walked through the entrance as though I owned the place. I scanned the layout of the hotel and did my best to memorize where all of the common areas and exits were.

  Using the stairs, I checked the floor layouts of each wing and wasn’t shocked to find each level was a copy of the one below. Room after room on either side of the hallway left me feeling more than a bit frustrated.

  I worked my way back down to the main lobby and out to the truck where I sat quietly, my eyes glued to the building where I intended to assassinate a lesser god, one, I might add, known for his deceptive ways. I was about to give up and head back to my humble home when I watched a flower delivery truck arrive. The driver hopped from the front and scooped up a large arrangement from the rear. The man practically danced into the hotel and it took him almost fifteen minutes to reappear.

  I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth as I realized that delivery people were given room numbers without cause for concern. I could either play the part myself, or send the little shit flowers and follow the delivery person to his door.

  I started the truck and pulled back onto the congested streets. Loki didn’t know it yet, but his days were numbered.

  AS SOON AS I pushed the door open I smelled him again. I slammed the door and seriously considered yelling, “Honey, I’m home!” Probably a good thing I didn’t.

  The angel was sitting on the barstool waiting for me.

  “It’s about time.”

  I tossed my keys on the counter and dropped the bag of weaponry on the coffee table. “I was scoping out the hotel.”

  “Whatever. Look, there may be a problem.” He stood and I stepped around him and into the kitchen.

  “Let me guess. Still no leftovers.”

  “Funny. No…” He stood at the entrance of the kitchen and watched me as I pulled out a bag of blood. “There are…rumors.”

  I raised a brow inviting him to explain. He didn’t. What is it about angelic folk that they can’t read body language for shit?

  “So? What rumors?”

  “There are others searching for Loki as well.”

  I stiffened at the idea that some asshat would rob me of my kill and null my plan to regain my soul.

  “Who?” I dropped the bag of blood into the sink, still sealed.

  The angel shook his head. “We don’t know for sure, but we’ve heard that somebody has been sniffing around asking about the human that he’s invaded.”

  I clenched my jaw then suddenly relaxed. “Could it not be somebody that the human knows? Surely a multi-billionaire has friends.”

  The angel shook his head. “Not one that…kills so indiscriminately.”

  My interest piqued. “Kills?”

  He nodded. “And not in a pleasant way either.”

  I almost laughed. “There’s a pleasant way to kill?”

  The angel gave me that look again. “There are uncomfortable ways to die and then there are horrible ways. This fellow likes to ensure the latter.”

  I nodded, picked up the bag of blood again and bit through the top. I think I was trying to buy time as I tried to imagine who else might be hunting my prey. “Any ideas?”

  The angel gave me a look I couldn’t quite interpret. “All I know is he’s big. He’s blonde. And he’s a brute.”

  I got the distinct impression that he was describing me in some lame attempt at humor. I gave him a questioning stare, but he didn’t respond.

  “Is that your way of asking me if I’m dropping people other than my target?”

  He shook his head. “No. We know it’s not you.”

  It was my turn to give him that stupid look. “How do you know?” I was afraid he was going to say som
ething that would piss me off.

  “We’ve been watching you.”

  Yup. He pissed me off.

  I squeezed the last of the blood into my mouth while I tried to contain my anger. I dropped the empty bag into the trash and gave him my best stink eye. “Why would you have somebody watching me?”

  “So that we’ll know when the job is finished.” He said it so matter of factly that I almost felt like he was placating me. I had to remind myself that angels are just dicks.

  “Trust me, once the job is done, you’ll know.”

  “And how would you call to tell me?”

  I smiled and knew it was evil. I had practiced this smile for years. It would turn a human’s blood cold. This guy didn’t even flinch.

  “I’ll string his body up on the highest point of the nearest church. You’ll see the buzzards circling, if nothing else.”

  He shook his head at me. “No, we probably wouldn’t notice that.” He paced outside the kitchen area and I realized, he really had no idea what sarcasm was. He turned suddenly and pointed his finger at me. “You could simply pray to me. I’d hear it.”

  I crossed my arms and gave him a “duh” look. “And exactly who would I ‘pray’ to? You never told me your name.”

  I swear, he almost looked hurt that I didn’t know who he was. “I am Grigori.”

  I felt bad for the guy. I stared at him a moment then nodded. “I thought so, but since we’d never been properly introduced, I didn’t want to assume.”

  He actually seemed to brighten slightly. “So, it is decided. We will discontinue watching you and you can simply pray to me once the deed is done.”

  “Sure. Let’s go with that.” I walked passed him and went through the living room. I snatched the bag of weapons from the table and put them in the closet with my other, more run of the mill weapons.

  “You have no other clues to who is hunting my target?”