Monster Hunter Vendetta

by Larry Correia

  "So something direct from the Old Ones couldn't come here either?" I asked, thinking of the swarm of Christmas Party monsters we'd fought in Natchy Bottom.

  "As far as I understand how the ward works, it's basically a focus point for our reality. Like a magnifying glass under the sun. Undead are an unnatural thing in this world, so it just blasts them. Things from outside this reality can't take the heat," she explained. "Its part magic, part physics, and way over my head."

  "Groovy," Trip said. He loved the magic stuff. It came from being a fantasy geek.

  "We've got the security room in the basement. The whole perimeter is wired with cameras and motion detectors, but we hardly ever man it," Julie suggested. "That should give us plenty of early warning."

  Earl nodded. "I want somebody in there, around the clock."

  "I'll make up a schedule," she answered. "I'll have to cycle through the Newbies too, which means some of them will have to get limited basement access."

  "Just keep them away from my personal space. Well, that's it for now then. Let's get some rest. I know none of us did last night." My boss yawned as he said it. Hunters tended to work really weird hours, but even we had our limits.

  I raised my hand. "We're not done yet, Mr. Wolf."

  He groaned. "I didn't get to pick the name. I thought it was goofy as hell. Hey, let's name the lycanthrope Mr. Wolf, because nobody will ever see through that. The government spooks love naming supernatural assets like that. I knew this one poor weredolphin in the Pacific that got coerced into working for the OSS doing naval recon back in '44. They designated the poor girl Ms. Fish."

  "Dolphins are mammals," Milo pointed out helpfully.

  "Exactly. And yes, Z, I have met your dad. I didn't ever know his real name either, so I never knew you were related, though I can see the resemblance now."

  "You actually worked for the CIA?" It sounded surreal in a black-helicopter, conspiracy-theory kind of way.

  "I'm the only non-PUFF-applicable werewolf in the world. They didn't grant that status for kicks. I've been called up to serve my country twice, three times if you count back to when I was just a poor human kid. People like me got to earn PUFF exemption, and sometimes earning it means working the occasional odd job for the Man, like you have to go somewhere nobody else can and eat a specific bad guy's face. Got it?"

  "You were an assassin?" Trip asked in disbelief.

  "It's hard to run a guerilla war when there's a werewolf sharing your jungle," Earl sighed. "I did what I had to do. Y'all would've done the same. I'm just not proud when I have to let the beast run free. Maybe that's why I've been such an effective Hunter. I understand both sides, real good."

  That gave me pause. The Englishman had said Harbinger was a liar and a murderer. That put the murder part into new perspective. I let it go though. I was too tired to exercise any critical thinking skills right about now. "Sorry, Earl. None of my business."

  Chapter 11

  Grant had to be the spy.

  Maybe I was biased. We had butted heads ever since I had been recruited. I had never liked him and the feeling had been mutual. The fact that I'd had a crush on his girlfriend hadn't helped things, and then when he'd screwed up on the Antoine-Henri, it had pretty well sealed the deal. I had learned later that he had regretted his call to abandon me so much that it had made him doubt his abilities as a Hunter. That, coupled with the brutality of his time being a captive of the Seven, had led to him leaving.

  Just because I was biased didn't make me wrong.

  Grant Jefferson was staying in the barracks temporarily. He would be assigned to another team within a few days. I'd told the others that I was going to bed, but had immediately gone for a stroll. I figured it wouldn't hurt to go talk to him first. I mentally justified the lie, as Earl Harbinger had put me in charge of rooting out the mole, after all.

  I was just going to talk to him and see if his story made sense, nothing more than that. If he slipped up and said something suspicious, I would just take it back to Earl. The fact that I had stopped long enough to sling Abomination over my shoulder was just a coincidence. It wasn't like everybody around here wasn't always armed to the teeth anyway. This was just a friendly little social call.

  As usual, Franks had tailed me. I still didn't know how the hell he was alive, but I didn't really have the energy to dwell on it. This conversation was none of his business.

  The main room of the barracks was filled with Newbies taking a break. The recreation room was actually a rather nice facility, complete with a pool table, big screen TVs, and lots of video games. We were a paramilitary organization, but we certainly weren't into that whole Spartan thing. Dawn, the Newbie who had spoken with me yesterday, was playing a game of pool. She perked right up when she saw me. That girl's default setting was flirt. She batted her eyes. "Hey, Z. Care to join me?"

  Oh, so it was "Z" now? "Naw, I'm on business. Have you seen Grant?"

  Her expression changed when she saw the hulking form of Franks fill the doorway behind me. For a second, she actually looked frightened. Maybe Franks had paid her a visit after her first monster encounter too. "No, haven't seen him," she answered quickly. "I've got to go." She tossed the pool cue on the table and walked away.

  Some Newbies playing a game of Guitar Hero pointed me toward the correct room. Too bad I was a man on a mission, because I was the reigning company champ on that game. And to think that everybody thought my brother had inherited all the musical talent. The Newbies got really quiet when they saw that I had Agent Franks with me. I couldn't say that I blamed them. He just had a kind of dampening effect on people.

  "Yo, Franks," I said. "You mind hanging out here for a minute?" He just stared at me blankly. "Private matter." He didn't even bother to respond. I leaned in closer so that the Newbies wouldn't hear. "I need to talk to somebody, alone."

  Franks looked at me like I was an imbecile. I couldn't tell him that I thought Grant was the spy, since there was no way in the world he was going to leave me alone with somebody who might be a member of the cult he was supposed to be protecting me from. Franks glanced around the room, studying the inhabitants. He seemed awkward in a place dedicated to recreation.

  "I've got to talk to Grant Jefferson. He . . . ​saved my life last night. I need to thank him. And I need to apologize for being a jerk to him." Franks raised an eyebrow. The concept of saying "thank you" or "I'm sorry" probably did not compute, but for whatever reason, he nodded. "One minute." Leaving Franks to watch the Newbies try to beat Arterial Black on "Hard," I went down the hallway and knocked on Grant's door.

  "Yes," came the voice on the other side. "Who is it?"

  "It's Owen Pitt."

  There was a long pause and the noise of a drawer closing. Finally the door opened. Grant's black armor was hanging in the closet behind him, and he was wearing normal clothing for once. "Is there a mission?" he asked hopefully. I shook my head in the negative. "Does Harbinger need me?"

  "Naw, man, I . . . ​uh . . . ​I just wanted to . . . ​talk."

  That confounded him. "Talk?"

  "Yeah, about . . . ​stuff. Can I come in?"

  "I guess." Grant stepped out of my way. Harbinger had at least given him one of the private rooms so that he wouldn't have to share with a Newbie. There was a desk and I pulled out the chair and sat, casually letting my shotgun dangle at my side. Grant, puzzled at what I was doing here, closed the door and sat on the bed. "What can I do for you?"

  I hadn't really thought through my plan. Planning's not the kind of thing you do when you're exhausted and just got beat up by gnomes. Might as well try to be nice, lower his defenses. If that didn't work, I would probably just start punching him in the face until he talked. "I just wanted to say thank you for saving my brother's life. That was a good shot."

  "Yes, it was," Grant replied. "And?"

  And? "Well, I just wanted to tell you I appreciate it." I paused. "And I wanted to welcome you back," I lied. "We never really got along before. I wanted t
o get us off on the right foot this time."

  Grant was smart enough not to buy that. "That's nice. I'm glad to be back."

  "Yeah, about that . . . ​why?"

  "Why?"

  He knew damn good and well what I was asking about. "Why'd you come back? I heard you'd moved out to Hollywood, and were living large, hanging out with movie stars and all that. Hell, I've been told that you're already worth a fortune. Your family are like billionaires. Why give up the sunshine and the babes and come back to this?" I gestured around the rather plain little room. He didn't respond, so I continued. "Slogging through the blood and the guts, risking life and limb. Most of us are doing this to make the kind of money that you've always had. Why risk that?"

  "True, I've been financially blessed, just a happy circumstance." He regarded me suspiciously. "But Hunting was never about money."

  "Why then? Why'd you come back?"

  There was quite a bit of hesitation. Got you sucker, you were coerced into it by a giant squid cult. Admit it. Finally, Grant cleared his throat. "It isn't any of your business."

  "I think it is," I answered, then corrected myself. "Not just for me, but for everybody in the company. You're going to get asked eventually, so what are you going to tell them?"

  "I'll tell them what I just told you. That it is none of their damn business . . . ​So, is this an official visit or personal? Did Harbinger send you to check on my level of commitment or is this because you don't like having me around Julie. Are you worried about something?"

  What? "That's just stupid."

  "Is it?"

  "Epic stupid. She has nothing to do with this."

  Grant smiled. Holly had told me that he had a disarming smile. I found it rather patronizing. "You know what I did before I was a Hunter?" I shrugged. Julie had said that he'd gone to Harvard. "I was a new attorney at a very prestigious firm. I'd won every single case that I'd had, and some of them were rather impressive. You know why?"

  "Because you're just that good?"

  "Yes, that and because I can always tell when someone is lying to me, and you, Pitt, are a terrible liar. You're worried that your future wife"—he practically spat the word—"still has feelings for me. Before you came along, we were close. We had a real future together. You screwed that up. You feel inadequate, and now you're scared that I'm back—"

  I cut him off. "Don't flatter yourself, dude."

  "Well, don't worry about it. I'm done with her. I don't know if she had an aneurism or what to distort her judgment enough to fall for somebody like you, but it doesn't matter. Damaged goods now. If you think that I came back to MHI like some lovesick puppy, then you're a fool."

  This was certainly spiraling in a direction that I had not expected. Might as well run with it. "Why'd you come back then, Grant? What pushed you to swallow your pride? Was it that hard to admit that you were wrong?"

  Grant stood. "Wrong?" he shouted. "I was a snack for a nest of vampires. Do you have any idea what that's like? Quitting wasn't a mistake. It was what any sane person would do."

  "So you quit because you were scared?"

  He went to the door and jerked it open. "Get out."

  I slowly stood. I had two options. Continue to push it, or let it go for now, and I hesitated, undecided. If I was wrong, I couldn't just start kicking the crap out of another Hunter in the barracks, but if he was the spy, then the longer he was free, the greater the danger to everyone. I split the difference. Stopping in the doorway, just inches away, I asked one final time. "I just wanted to know the real reason why. That's all. I'll never bug you again."

  Grant was seriously angry. His face had turned a shade of red I'd not seen before. Something must have snapped. "I came back because I've never failed at anything. I don't know how to fail. Of course I was scared; only idiots like you are immune to fear. But I let the fear win, and I ran away, and I hated myself for it. Every single day, I'd read the papers. I'd recognize the cover stories. The missing persons, the obvious tricks to hide monster attacks, and the anger just filled me."

  "Hunting's in your blood," I answered slowly.

  "That's Shackleford myth," he hissed. "There's no such thing as a born Hunter. The only thing in my blood now is the curse of the vampire, and when I die I've got to get my head sawed off because of it. Nailing supermodels and going to all-night parties is great, but every morning I got to look at a failure in the mirror. I'm here for one reason and one reason only. I'm the best at everything I decide to do, and I can't quit until I prove I'm the best at this too . . . ​I can't quit until I beat this. I will be the most effective Hunter in the world or I'll die trying. Do you have a problem with that?"

  Damn it. He was telling me the truth. I could see it in his eyes. This was a man who was just as driven as I was. No wonder we never got along. "No," I answered. I walked out the door and he slammed it shut behind me. I gave a long sigh. "Welcome back, Grant," I muttered to myself.

  ◈ ◈ ◈

  "Owen, I'm glad to see you," Mom said as she answered the guest room door. "I'm afraid you woke us up. I know it's the middle of the afternoon, but we didn't sleep a wink last night."

  "Sorry, Mom, but I need to talk to Dad. It's really important."

  "What happened to your face?"

  "Sucker-punched by a troll . . . ​Really, I need to ask him some questions."

  Mom looked me over. I really wasn't in a state of grooming that was up to her usual standards. I was actually impressed that she didn't whip out a cloth, spit on it, and start rubbing my face. She had gained some self-control over the years. "Why do you have that big gun on?" She pointed at Abomination.

  "Protection," I shrugged. I had been ready to shoot Grant with it, but that was too long of a story. Now that it looked like he was just another emotionally deranged Hunter, I was back to square one. "I use this for work. You know, my real work."

  "Ooohhh, that must be your Abominator. Julie talked about it."

  "Mom . . ." Leave it to your parents to screw up even the coolest stuff. "It's Abomination. And quit stalling, I need to see Dad."

  She turned and looked back into the darkened room. I could hear Dad snoring. She moved out into the hallway, barefoot and in a borrowed bathrobe. She closed the door softly behind her. "He needs his rest."

  "But—"

  "No, you But. Your father needs his rest. He's been sick."

  I had no idea what she was talking about. "Sick?"

  "Oh, hello, young man. I didn't see you there." Mom smiled politely at Agent Franks, who as usual, was following me around. "I'm Ilyana Pitt. You must be one of Owen's friends."

  I snorted. Friend . . . ​

  "Ma'am," Franks nodded.

  I cut her off before she could start to harass Franks. I knew even the most stoic man I'd ever met couldn't withstand her, and within moments she would beat his life story out of him and probably enroll him in her book club or something, but I didn't have time for that. "I've got to talk to him right now." I put my hand on the door and started to push.

  One surprisingly firm hand landed on my chest. "Oh, no you don't, mister." Mom shoved me back. She was angry now. "You can talk to him when he's rested. I've been listening to this magic prophecy dream business for the last twenty-five years and I've had to put up with all sorts of strangeness and nonsense, and stockpiles of guns cluttering up my basement, and you two fighting and being obnoxious to each other that whole time. The very least you can do is come back later."

  "But, Mom, it's important!" I'm afraid I whined; parents can do that to you.

  "And it'll still be important in a few hours when we're not all cranky and stressed. Now go before I get mad."

  I couldn't believe this. We're talking about the end of the world, and I was getting kicked out by my mother. This was embarrassing. If I hadn't been exhausted and injured, I probably would have pushed it, but as it stood, all I wanted to do was flop into bed and not get beaten up by oni, trolls, gnomes, or zombies for a while. "Fine," I muttered.

&n
bsp; She actually patted me on the cheek. "Good. See you later. Love you." Then she slipped back inside the guest room and closed the door.

  I groaned. Franks' emotionless mask almost appeared to be smirking. "Your mom seems nice," he said.

  I sank onto my bed, frustrated, exhausted, and with no clear idea of what the hell I was going to do about the problems facing us. We had a spy, this shadow cult had shown they were willing to pull out all the stops, my family was now involved, and I was once again experiencing strange, Old One-related abilities. Normally I would have just lain there, too spun up to sleep, but I had gained a roommate.

  "Okay, so what was the weird chick in the ninja outfit that put that smelly grease on my cuts?" Mosh asked. He wouldn't know just how effective that "grease" was until morning. "With the tusks?" He had been asking me monster-related questions for the last hour.

  "Orc. They're distantly related to humans. Most of them never speak. They always wear masks, but even then they're painfully awkward. Each one has some sort of gift that they're magically good at. Gretchen is a healer. Skippy is the best pilot in the world."

  Mosh was nodding thoughtfully in the dark. "So that explains the Stig."

  "Who?"

  "Never mind . . ." Mosh muttered. "I thought orcs were the bad guys and elves were good."

  "It's complicated. This particular tribe is good."

  "Are there elves then?"

  "Yes, the local ones live in a magic trailer park. Go to sleep, Mosh."

  I had killed the lights, but I could sense the shifting on the cot on the other side of the room. It was quiet for a long time.

  "So, the reason Dad's always been a jackass is because of a dream? And because he's been afraid?"

  I sighed. I still hadn't really absorbed that yet. All these years I'd just assumed my father was a paranoid jerk by default, and now it turns out that he had reasons. "I suppose so, but I don't know yet."

  "I can't believe he told you that. . . . ​Dad only ever told me stories about murdering communists. It's not like he ever talked about his feelings. Hell, I didn't know he even had feelings. . . . ​So it turns out that Dad was right the whole time?"