James snorted. If only you knew, Lieutenant. If only you knew.
She held up a hand. “Look, I don’t know all the bullshit you’re into, Brownstone, and I know you’ve pulled some crap that should probably get you locked up. But that doesn’t change the fact that these three Drow are sniffing around for you, and it’ll only be a matter of time before they come at you. Since you’re not hiding in a safehouse, I’m guessing they’re trying to scope out your capabilities before they hit you. And when these assholes come chasing you, AET wants a piece of their ass.”
James stared at the AET lieutenant, his mouth agape. “You want to help me?”
“Serve and protect. That’s what cops do.” Lieutenant Hall stood. “Or this might be an ‘enemy of my enemy is my friend’ deal. I’ve been told the Drow are about the worst assholes you can have messing around, and I don’t need an infestation in my town. We’ve got plenty of weird assholes here already.”
Drow are that bad of news? I wonder if Alison knew all this already, but she’s safe at the school. If I take all these three assholes out, she’ll be safe for the summer.
Maria headed toward the door but stopped a few feet from it. “Given the shit I saw the last time we took down a Drow, we can’t risk them going after you in the city. You have to run, Brownstone, draw them away from a crowded area, and we can help.”
“You’re really gonna risk your life to help me?”
“Yeah. I don’t care where you take them. I just don’t want this shit going down in some park.” Lieutenant Hall fished a business card out of her pocket and tossed on the table. “Keep in touch, and AET will have your back.” She stepped into the hallway.
James stared at the open interrogation room door. After all this time, AET wanted to help him rather than take him down.
Maybe it’s a trick. Maybe she’s just trying to get me somewhere she can finish me off, but fuck, even with the amulet I might need the help against three Drow.
I’ve got to take the chance. I need to take these assholes down for Alison.
18
“Is that an acceptable starting date, Detective?” Charlyce inquired.
“Yes, we should have all the financial paperwork done on our end before then,” Detective West replied over the speakerphone. “Once your first team is here, we’ll arrange a meeting so they can meet everyone they’ll be dealing with at the department.”
Trey sat beside his aunt, his arms crossed, letting her do her thing. He smiled. She’d gone from homeless vagrant to negotiating with cops for professional services in a matter of weeks.
“Excellent,” Charlyce replied in a crisp voice. “Now, I just want to be very clear on this matter, and the contracts and paperwork we’ve sent in reflect this as well. You’re hiring the Brownstone Agency, not James Brownstone. Not saying he’ll never show up, but he won’t be part of any of the rotating teams. Mr. Brownstone concentrates almost entirely on level four and above bounties.”
“Understood, Ms. Garfield. Fortunately, we don’t have as many high-level whackos running around Vegas as you do in Los Angeles. We appreciate and understand the limits of what you’re offering, and we’re more than happy with it. This will still be a great help to the department.”
“Is there anything else you wanted to discuss, Detective?”
“That should be enough for now. Just have Trey give us a call when the first team arrives.”
“I will,” Trey offered.
“Talk to you soon.” Detective West hung up.
Trey clapped his hands together. “We’re really moving up in the world for an ex-gang leader and his homeless aunt.”
She laughed. “Oh, Trey.”
“Still need to find a small office up there. The big man’s made sure we’ll have the cash, but he’s not gonna be the one to pick it out.”
Charlyce nodded at her phone. “I’ve already narrowed it down with some searches online.”
“Then the only thing left is to run up to Vegas. Me, you, three of the boys. Everything should be okay down here in the meantime. Royce says he’ll keep an eye on Lachlan.”
Trey’s aunt let out a small chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s like you said, Trey. A month ago, I was more concerned about my next meal than contracts. We’re respectable folk now, helping stop criminals. I just…” She wiped away a happy tear. “It’s a dream come true.”
Trey pushed away from the table and stood. “Yeah, couldn’t say I expected any of this shit. Whew.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But we ain’t finished yet. I’ll text the big man and let him know we’re heading to Vegas. If any bullshit happens with the rest of the boys, I can be back here in hours to knock some heads.”
Charlyce looked at her nephew with concern. “Are you worried?”
Trey laughed. “Nah. I’d like to see any of those dumbasses try to take on a Marine and not get their asses handed to them.”
James stepped into the Leanan Sídhe. Happy chatter from the crowd filled the room, but unlike his arrival at the Black Sun the other morning, no one cheered. People glanced at the door to offer him a polite nod. Here he was still just another regular and not James Brownstone, famous bounty hunter and Scourge of Harriken.
The Professor sat gulping down thick amber liquid at a table in back, rosy-cheeked. He waved at James.
The bounty hunter didn’t head straight to the back. He marched over to a chalkboard hanging above the bar where contestants could sign up for the latest Bard of Filth competition, pulled a piece of chalk off the holder, and scribbled his name on the board.
Silence rippled from the bar. Someone even turned the TV off. Dozens of people stared at James and the chalkboard.
“James Brownstone has just signed up for next week’s official Bard of Filth competition,” the bartender shouted. “We’re going to hear dirty limericks or a dirty song from James Brownstone!”
Wild cheers and clapping followed.
Oh, fuck my life.
James groaned. He shook his head and walked toward the Professor, several people patting him on the back as he passed.
“You’ll kick ass, Brownstone,” one man shouted.
“Make it extra-filthy,” a woman commented.
James arrived at the Professor’s table and took a seat. The Professor stared at him, eyes narrowed as if he suspected the bounty hunter was a Drow in disguise.
A passing waitress headed over to the table. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Brownstone?”
“An Irish Stout please,” James rumbled.
“No problem.” She smiled and hurried to the bar, her movement through the crowd a thing of surprising grace and caution.
The Professor picked up his glass and took another sip of beer. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d sign up voluntarily. I was planning to force you my own way.”
James grunted. “I wasn’t ready before. I’m ready now.”
“Are you now, lad? Then give me an example. Prove to me you won’t embarrass us both.”
James cleared his throat.
“There once was a man they called James,
Who loved meat cooked with open flames,
His house got burned down,
Which gave him a frown,
So he kicked ass without taking names.”
The Professor rubbed his chin and nodded approvingly. “Not bad. Good flow, but that’s more threatening than filthy. Show me you can truly aspire to be the Bard of Filth. I want depravity, not wrath.”
“There once was a man they called Brock,
Who worked like a bitch ‘round the clock,
A vacation he earned,
For the lessons he’d learned,
Like fucking your mom with his cock.”
The Professor burst out laughing and clapped. “Okay, lad. I’m not sure what Oriceran magic you used to go from pathetic loser to saucy and filthy, but that was pretty damned good. You might not win the competition, but at least now I know you can put up a
fight.”
James snorted. “You actually liked that shit?”
“Aye, James. The first one was okay, but the second one proves you understand what a good filthy limerick is all about.” He grinned. “I’m finally looking forward to this competition.”
The waitress returned with James’ beer and set it in front of him before departing with a smile.
The Professor waited for her to retreat into the crowd. “But filthy limericks aren’t why you’re here today. I’ve got a job for you, lad.”
“A bounty?”
He shook his head. “More of a courier thing. Kind of like Seattle.”
James grunted. “Isn’t this more of a Shay job?”
“Aye, but she’s not available, so I’m having to go to junior varsity in this case.” The Professor chuckled. “More seriously, this particular artifact is dangerous enough that it would benefit from your unique skill in beating the living snot out of anyone who might come after you. We need to get this artifact out of anyone else’s hands. It’s too powerful for anyone to have it. Too much a temptation.”
“But if you send me after it, I’ll have it.”
“Aye, but out of all the bad choices, you’re the least bad in my opinion. Once you deliver it, I can stick it somewhere where even I won’t be able to get to it.”
James picked up his beer and downed some of it, enjoying the roasted and bitter undertones. “Why not just destroy it if it’s so dangerous?”
“Because we’d need the equivalent of a Mount Doom worth of magic to destroy it. No single person has that much, so it’s easier to just hide the artifact.”
James shrugged and took another drink. “You’re the expert. I’ll focus on the part that involves ass-kicking. What is it, where is it, and who else wants it?”
“It’s in Arizona. I’ll send you the address once you’re on the road. This matter is sensitive enough that even I’m paranoid about it. As for the cost, I’ve paid half up front.”
“How much will I need to bring with me for the other half?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. You’ll find out when you get there.”
James frowned. “But if it’s a—”
The Professor cut him off with a raised hand. “It’ll be fine. I don’t even want to describe the item on the off chance anyone is listening. You’ll go to the address, and you’ll ask for the item being held for a Jake Greystone. I’ve already made a deposit.”
“Jake Greystone?”
The Professor smirked. “Aye.”
“Very funny.”
“I thought so.”
James frowned. “If it’s so dangerous should I fly to pick it up and bring it back? Or is it another one of those exploding if it gets too high kind of deals?”
“I honestly don’t know, but I wouldn’t advise it. It’s been known to disrupt technology in the past. I’ll be providing you with a lead box that has been enchanted with various runes.”
“And that shit will keep me safe?”
The Professor polished off his beer, slammed the glass on the table, and shrugged. “Maybe. I’d hope so.”
“Maybe?”
“Very few things are certain in life, lad. Not even death and taxes anymore.” The Professor wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Unlike my last little courier job for you, I don’t actually expect any trouble this time. This should be a simple pickup if you’re lucky.”
“That’s a big if.”
Shit. Better stop by the warehouse to grab my amulet.
Shay’s eyes fluttered open when her phone rang, and she turned her head to check who it was.
“James?” She lifted it from the nightstand. “Something wrong?”
James grunted. “What, can’t I call you? The last text you sent me said it’d be okay to call you.”
“No, no, it’s fine. Just didn’t expect it.” Shay shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “Seriously, though, everything okay with you?”
“Yeah. Just running to Arizona on a little errand for the Professor. No big deal.”
“No big deal? If the Professor wanted you as a courier, it’s a big deal.”
James chuckled. “Things have been quiet. No problems over here.”
“If you say so.”
Shay narrowed her eyes. Something about the tone felt forced to her, as if he were trying to hide something.
Fuck. Am I just being paranoid because of that video thing?
Confronting him over the hacker matter wouldn’t help. If he’d avoided using Peyton, James had a reason, and she either needed to trust him or push him away.
Don’t think I’ll let him know Peyton filled me in on that bar shit even if he couldn’t find the video. I shouldn’t have ratted him out to James to begin with. It was a bitch move.
“There’s a sweet barbeque place in Arizona I’ll finally be able to check out,” James explained.
“Probably secretly the last base of the Harriken.”
“Fuck, I don’t care. If there are any Harriken left and they make good barbeque, they deserve to live.”
Shay laughed and rolled onto her side on the bed. “That’s all criminals need to do to survive? Cook good barbeque?”
“It’s a start.”
“So in five years they’ll be no gangs or mobsters, just barbeque restaurants everywhere?”
“Sounds a lot like heaven.”
“What about for the vegetarians?”
James chuckled. “They’ll just have to convert. Hold on a sec.” Scratching filled the line for a moment. “Need to grab some gas soon. Gonna need to let you go.”
“No problem. Talk to you later. And…”
“Yeah?”
“I love you, James.”
“I love you, too, Shay.”
Shay sighed and ended the call. She fell onto her back and wiped away the tears that were leaking out.
She loved James, but she didn’t trust him, even though she was one who’d lived a lie her entire life and still lied to him every time they talked. She convinced herself not telling him about Project Nephilim and Project Ragnarok was for his own good, but after spending half her life deceiving others, she couldn’t discount that being truthful would forever elude her.
“My man is an alien who grew up having trouble understanding how to relate to people. Fuck. He’s not me. He’s lived a painfully straightforward life, even if he hid his amulet. If I can’t learn to trust him, who the hell am I going to trust?”
I’ll do better, James. I’m working on it. It’s just gonna take a while.
19
Reyal looked into the mirror. She didn’t like the false face she’d generated with her magic. At least she enjoyed the black color of their borrowed Porsche. Her knowledge of Earth vehicle aesthetics was limited, but from what she could tell her taste in the matter signaled refinement even among humans.
Zavan frowned. “Why are we going this way? Is this west or east?”
“I believe it’s east.” Reyal turned at an intersection, frowning.
Her leader frowned and shook his head. “No, we’re heading west judging by the sun. Why are we are going in the wrong direction?”
“The Skill Ring helps me drive, not navigate, Zavan. Do you expect me to have memorized the layout of the roads in the human city? Why not use an active tracking spell?”
Kaella chuckled in the back.
Zavan lifted his hand to conjure another tracking spell but stopped and shook his head. “The more magic we use, the greater the chance our enemies—whether from the consulate or elsewhere—might home in on us. If we’re captured, it’ll make things difficult for the queen or force us into unnecessary confrontations.”
“I don’t fear confrontation,” Reyal objected.
“This is not our world, and we’re not here to kill weaklings. We’re here to find the princess. If we’re too obvious, Brownstone will realize we’re coming for her. He might move her into the heart of some Light Elf enclave or something equally annoying.” Zavan shook h
is head. “No, we must be cautious—not out of safety but because our mission demands it. Now get us heading east.”
“Fine,” Reyal muttered. “Then don’t complain if I get lost on occasion.”
“Go in the right direction, and we’ll find him. The farther we move from the city, the easier it’ll be for us to confront him without interference.” Zavan looked out the window as a car passed him. “Soon we will force Brownstone to tell us where the princess is. Then we can leave this wretched planet and punish Brownstone for ever daring to interfere with the Drow.”
What the fuck? This is the right address, but this can’t be the place.
The door above the bell jingled as James stepped into Lake Treasures Pawn Shop. Dingy metal shelves filled with a variety of goods lined the cramped room, and a bored-looking woman with an unruly mop of brown hair sat behind a glass window. The window broke up the gate that otherwise blocked off the back half of the store. The bottom of the window was set atop a folding panel.
Several pistols and rifles hung on the wall in the back. A long, thin red wooden wand hung near the far end of the wall.
It couldn’t be an actual wand, could it? Shit, I don’t know how that works anyway.
The clerk’s jaw worked a thick wad of bubblegum as she stared at her phone. Other than a quick glance upon James’ entry, she hadn’t bothered to look his way or acknowledge his existence.
James walked over to the window. The woman continued looking at her phone until the bounty hunter cleared his throat.
The clerk tapped the phone and set it on the counter. “You ever watch The Real Dwarf Mafia of New York?”
James shook his head. “I only watch cooking shows.”
“I just started watching it. It’s a reality show. They follow these dwarf guys around New York. They never say they are mobsters, but they sure are talking about some shady shit. My cousin Sheila says it’s all fake, but I’m like, how could it be fake? I mean, these dwarves would curse the guys if they were making shit up.”
The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus Page 14
