MudMan (The Golem Chronicles Book 1)

by James Hunter

  In the end, Levi supposed, it was probably better for them to be with Chuck anyway. For one, even having a cat as a roommate pushed the limits of the Mudman’s tolerance—two women would be a bit much. Two, those women weren’t regular Rubes anymore. They’d be undergoing a lot of changes in the days, weeks, and months ahead, and Chuck was far more capable of walking them through those changes than Levi. For better or worse, the Hub was their world now, and Chuck could help the two find their place.

  Chuck spun his ring round and round while he thought. “The sister’s a cold fish,” he replied. “Still in shock, I think. I can hardly get two words outta that broad, but she’s alive. And Ryder, well she’s lookin’ fine as ever. Still got that sassiness about her, but I think she’s finally startin’ to warm up to me. I mean we ain’t together yet, like you know”—he arched an eyebrow—“but she’s interested in the mean green, if you know what I’m sayin’.”

  “Absolutely not what I meant,” Levi replied.

  “Yeah, I know what you meant. But what you want me to say, man? They dealin’ with some real heavy shit. You and me, we both know neither of those gals gonna be the same. Not after this. With this kinda thing, there ain’t no way a tellin’ how it’s gonna shake out. Not like there’s a lot of precedent, am I right?”

  Levi nodded his head, but said nothing.

  Levi might have arrived in time to prevent Ryder’s death, but he hadn’t arrived in time to save her. Not entirely. By the time he’d burst through the window, she’d already been marked by dark alchemy—her soul split open and exposed to a demonic essence. She’d been part of an arcane ritual as old as the world itself, which had halted, herky-jerky, before it could come to completion. No one walked away from something like that unchanged. And not just in a psychological sense, either. When powerful rituals went awry, there were always consequences.

  Always.

  Transference was the most likely possibility:

  Some fragment of the wyrm god might have lived on inside Ryder and her sister. Even if a sliver of Cain remained, the effects could be devastating, though it was impossible to predict what exactly the extent of those effects would be. Levi had no doubt, however, that there would be issues of one sort or another. Those two would bear watching, but he was hopeful both would recover, at least enough to go back to whatever life remained to them.

  He pointed to the package on the table. “Two bricks. One is yours to do with as you please. The other is for Ryder, minus five percent, which you can keep in exchange for putting her up and cashing the gold out.”

  “That’s real generous of you,” Chuck replied, grabbing the box and pulling it across the table with a groan. “Damn, man. That shit right there’s a lot heavier than it looks. Come in here, flop that box down, make it look all easy.”

  “Chuck, I’m only going to say this once—make sure she gets what’s comin’ to her.”

  “You know I got feelings right, Levi? Always comin’ at me like, ‘Don’t steal my money, Chuck. No leprechaun shenanigans, Chuck. I’ll break your fingers, ’cause I’m a colossal asshole with trust issues, Chuck.’ Let me just ask you, did I or didn’t I come through?” He leaned forward, eyebrow cocked.

  Levi sighed. “Yeah, you came through.”

  “Thank you for acknowledgin’ my trustworthiness and contribution to the team.”

  Levi ran a hand over his balding head, then grunted a monosyllabic apology. “What about the warehouse?” he asked afterward.

  “Don’t sweat the warehouse, man. The Black Shillelaghs know their business. They reached out to a freelance cleanup crew. Bunch of ghouls. Nasty-ass sumbitches ate the corpses. All of ’em. Then the Shillelaghs burned that shithole to the ground. Ain’t nothing left.”

  “The homunculus?”

  Chuck hesitated, fidgeting for a moment, turning his tacky ring again. “That’s the only … let’s call it a complication. Freaky-ass thing was gone. Don’t know what happened to it. But it can’t be Cain, right? Not if Ryder’s alive?”

  Levi nodded. The absence of the homunculus was deeply troubling, but considering everything else that had gone right? It was still a win.

  “Alright,” said Pastor Steve from the pulpit, pulling Levi from his thoughts. “Let’s greet one another in love before we worship this morning.”

  As was usual, George, the lanky beanpole of a man with the balding crown and the awkward smile, shuffled over and extended a hand. And, as usual, Levi grasped the clammy mitt and gave it several pumps before letting go.

  “Mornin’, Levi,” George said. “Sure is good to see you. We missed you Tuesday—the food pantry wasn’t the same without you. I take it your commission came through? How’d the project turn out?”

  Levi smiled. He didn’t even have to force it. There’d been no art commission, and though the lie sat heavy in his gut, his “project” had turned out far better than he could’ve ever hoped for.

  “A few hiccups,” he said after a moment, recalling how he’d had to set himself on fire at one point and had torn his own hands and feet off at another. “Overall though, I’m pleased with the way things turned out. Just between us, it might be the best piece of work I’ve ever done. Certainly the piece I’m proudest of.”

  “That’s great to hear, I mean it.”

  “How ’bout you?” Levi asked, completing the formulaic greeting. Except it didn’t feel like a formula—he actually wanted to know how George was doing.

  “Same old same old, but every week’s a blessing from the Lord, if you take my meaning.”

  Levi nodded. “I think I understand you just fine.”

  “You comin’ out Tuesday?” George asked with a speculative smile, a thin stretching of the lips.

  “Try and stop me.”

  “Okay,” said Pastor Steve from the podium. “Let’s return to our seats. We’re going to be singing out of the Red Hymnal”—he held up a worn, red book in one hand—“number forty-two, ‘O God, the Rock of Ages.’” The pianist, a silver-haired woman with a smiling face and thin glasses, began playing the tune. “Let us be present together as we worship this morning,” Steve continued, speaking over the music. “The Holy Sabbath is a new day, and as the Apostle Paul wrote, ‘The old has gone, the new is here!’ So let us celebrate this newness together. The past is the past, and the future stretches before us, bright and new. Let’s sing our thanks for the ever-renewing mercies and grace of God above.”

  There were plenty of things for Levi to worry about—Ryder, the missing homunculus, Hogg at large in the world, all that gold coming back to bite him—but as Levi sang, those worries rolled away, consecrated oil burning away under a holy flame. Levi was present and, for the time being, happy ... Well, maybe not happy, but almost.

  Books, Mailing List, and Reviews

  If you enjoyed reading about Levi and want to stay in the loop about the latest book releases, awesomesauce promotional deals, and upcoming book giveaways be sure to subscribe to my email list: https://JamesAHunter.wordpress.com/contact-me/ Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.

  Word-of-mouth and book reviews are crazy helpful for the success of any writer. If you really enjoyed reading MudMan, please consider leaving a short review—just a couple of lines about your overall reading experience. You can click below to leave a review at Amazon, and thank you in advance. www.Amazon.com/dp/B01BX7PT7M. One other word on ol’ Levi: I don’t have any plans to write more books in this series—I have a million stories to tell and only so many days in the year. If, however, you want to read more books with Levi, Ryder, and Chuck, please say so in your review or email me and let me know (JamesAHunter@outlook.com). Ultimately, my boss is you, the reader. So if enough people express an interest in reading more MudMan stories, I’ll be only too happy to write them.

  If you want to delve deeper in the Hub, Outworld, and the various nightmarish creatures that inhabit Levi’s world, be sure to check out my Yancy Lazarus series: www.Amazon.com/
dp/B00R7QEFN8

  Or you can pick up the first three books (plus a free novella) in the Yancy Lazarus series and save twenty-five percent: www.Amazon.com/dp/B019JI1516

  If you want to connect even more, please stop by and like my Facebook Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/WriterJamesAHunter

  About the Author

  Hey all, my name is James Hunter and I’m a writer, among other things. So just a little about me: I’m a former Marine Corps Sergeant, combat veteran, and pirate hunter (seriously). I’m also a member of The Royal Order of the Shellback—’cause that’s a real thing. I’ve also been a missionary and international aid worker in Bangkok, Thiland. And, a space-ship captain, can’t forget that.

  Okay … the last one is only in my imagination.

  Currently, I’m a stay at home Dad—taking care of my two kids—while also writing full time, making up absurd stories that I hope people will continue to buy. When I’m not working, writing, or spending time with family, I occasionally eat and sleep.

  Dedication

  For my brother, Aron. Where you’re coming from doesn’t have to determine where you’re going. I’ve always believed in you and I always will. Love you, bro.

  Special Thanks

  I’d like to thank my wife, Jeanette, and daughter, Lucy, and my son, Sam. A special thanks to my parents, Greg and Lori. A quick shout out to my brother Aron and his whole brood—Eve, Brook, Grace, and Collin. Brit, probably you’ll never read this book either, but I love you too. Here’s to the folks of Team Hunter, my awesome Alpha and Beta readers who helped make this book both possible and good: eden Hudson (the awesome author of the Redneck Apocalypse Series), Owen “Ari” Wilkie, Megan Meyers (aka Teal.Canary), Bob “Gunslinger” Singer, Dan “Danh” Goodale, Joan Carmouch-Hairston, Lisa “Nell” Justice, Jen “Inava” Wadsworth, Robert Olsen, Brett Farris, Jim Dutton, Scott Hoerner, Heather Copeman, Matthew Campbell, and Tracy Reitmann. They read the messy, early drafts so that no one else had to; thanks guys and gals, this book wouldn’t be what it is without you all. And, of course, a big thanks to my editor, Tamara Blain, who rocked this book (if you need editing, go to her, she’s seriously awesome: www.ACloserLookEditing.com )

  —James A. Hunter, March 2016

  Copyright

  MudMan is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by James A. Hunter and Shadow Alley Press, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the publisher, subject line “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.

  JamesAHunter@outlook.com