The flash and loud report of gunfire ceased. Crazak surveyed the area. The soldiers were spreading around the Council members. All their servants and guards lay dead. The government’s witches and wizards walked slowly forward but remained well behind the soldiers.
We will die here, but not to these mere servants.
All the enemies raised their weapons and opened fire. Ferrao and Crazak both gritted their teeth, feeding more energy into the shield. Yilin stood, unsteady on her feet. Lawrence groaned and sat up, one of his arms hanging limply.
“If we have no servants,” Crazak shouted, “then we should summon new ones. Ferrao, hold the shield. The rest of us will do what is needed.”
The gnome nodded and half-closed his eyes, both arms up.
Crazak raised his hand and muttered several incantations, and glowing glyphs appeared around a small swirling portal. Yilin raised her hands, and a bright blue ring surrounded the portal. Multiple streams of energy poured from He Who Hunts. A low groaning hum filled the area, building in volume over several long seconds as the portal swirled faster and faster. The elf flung his arms upward, and a bright flash blinded everyone for a few seconds.
The foolish witches and wizards helping the soldiers had anticipated blocking portals to another part of Earth or maybe even Oriceran, not somewhere far darker and more dangerous.
Dozens of jet-black holes opened in the sky above them. Looking into them was like staring directly into the abyss. Dark, shuddering monsters with hungry tentacles and tooth-filled maws started dropping from the holes.
To their credit, the soldiers took only moments to recover, the majority raising their weapons and opening fire on the new threat. Bullet after bullet ripped into the falling hungry monsters, some of the barrages blowing enough of the creatures apart that they sizzled and disappeared.
It wasn’t enough. A shadow rain of ravenous, hideous monsters continued to pelt down. A demon rain.
Crazak chuckled. Now their enemy would die. A loud railgun round answered his arrogance, and it pierced their depleted shield. Even at reduced velocity, it removed the bulk of Lawrence’s head.
The remaining Council members strengthened Crazak’s shield. The next railgun round bounced off with a flash, but the dark portals above began to shrink and close one by one, a few slicing their arrivals in half. No mercy from the monsters or for the monsters.
Twitching tentacled horrors slithered along the ground, and their sharp barbs sliced and carved through the soldiers’ armor. Man after man fell, but no man broke and ran, instead standing their ground and blasting away. The soldiers were dying, but they were taking their enemy with them.
The wizards and witches attempted to put up defensive shields, but the summoned horrors managed to smash through those after a few attempts. It wouldn’t be long until the monsters turned on the Council.
Crazak took a deep breath and nodded to Ferrao. “We’ll keep the shield up. See if you can open a portal now.”
Ferrao grinned, raised his hand, and snapped. A swirling portal appeared.
Yilin rushed through it. He Who Hunts glided through next, then Crazak limped toward the portal, and Ferrao brought up the rear.
Crazak summoned a scrying window after the portal closed to watch the soldiers in their last few valiant moments, the final few succumbing to the barbs and teeth of their enemy. Only a small number of creatures remained.
If there’d been a few more soldiers, they would have won. Impressive, Army. Very impressive. It’s unfortunate that you don’t serve the Council.
Without magical stabilization the summoned monsters wouldn’t last more than a couple of hours before melting, but they could at least serve as a final distraction for the Council’s enemies.
The elf shook his head and looked around. A third of the Council had already perished, and now the rest of them sat huddled together and wounded in a hotel room.
Crazak snorted. “Worthy foes are always the most annoying.”
General Francis scrubbed a hand over his face as the gathered team read through the latest briefing documents. “Fuck.”
The Deputy National Security Advisor sighed. “The President doesn’t want any briefings on this matter until it’s resolved.”
General Black, Chief of Staff of the Air Force, shook his head. “It’s not a complete failure. Our intelligence suggests we’ve killed at least a third of the Council, and a decent number of their support forces. Not a victory, but not a rout either.”
Senator Johnston snorted. “Tell that to the families of all those men and women who died. What a damned clusterfuck! I’m going to go get something to eat. Not much point in us deciding a new course of action until we have a clue where the Council is now.”
General Francis nodded. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning to evaluate our options. We need to make sure that we have adequate intelligence before our next operation.”
Everyone stood and left, downcast looks on their face as they filed out. The general begged off talking to a staffer and headed into the hallway. A few minutes later the clip-clop of high heels got his attention, and he looked back to see Senator Silvers following him.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
She sighed. “It was a good plan, General.”
He snorted. “I thought you were in Johnston’s camp.”
Senator Silvers shrugged. “I had my concerns, but now I have different ones. I think we have all underestimated how dangerous these people are. I guess the question is what we do going forward. Johnston just seems interested in throwing more bounty hunters at it, and I’m not sure if that’s wise.”
The general shook his head. “From some of that drone footage we saw I think we’re well past that. Imagine if those bastards had started that demon hail shit in a major city? I think we’re going to need to up our game.” A grim expression took over his face. “I’m going to talk about getting some backchannels going. Some of the other countries need to be brought in on this, and not just NATO allies. If we use tactical nukes in a remote area and explain why, it doesn’t have to become anything more.”
“Tactical nukes?” Senator Silvers blinked. “You think the President will sign off on those?”
The general shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it’s time some of us threw ourselves under the bus to defend this country. Men and women have already sacrificed their lives. If I have to sacrifice my career to stop this Council, I’m willing to do so.”
“Have you mentioned this idea to anyone else?” Senator Silvers rubbed her gold ring with her thumb.
“Not yet. I want everyone to have time to stew on what happened. Sometimes you just have to offer the right plan at the right time.” He shrugged. “Not even sure why I’m telling you. Just, you look like someone who knows that this isn’t a game.”
Senator Silvers gave him a nod. “I still have a few things to check on, General. Have a good night. I will tell you that I’ve been convinced of the threat. I’ll voice my support tomorrow.”
The general managed a smile. “Thank you, Senator.”
With a polite nod, he headed down the hall. He had an appointment with his conscience and some whiskey.
General Francis sipped from his glass, shaking it and enjoying the light clink of the ice cubes. He stared out his window at the dark DC skyline. He’d sent a lot of men and women to their deaths in his career, but never without cause and without the idea that it was the best thing for the country, if not the world.
He snorted and sipped some of the whiskey, enjoying the cleansing burn as it slid down his throat. He’d had a good decade or so of service before the truth about magic and Oriceran had come out and changed everything. A lot of officers of his generation had quit, unable to handle being in the military in a time of such rapid change.
But he’d refused. If anything, it had made him want to stay in the Army until his dying day. Magic meant new threats against the citizens he’d sworn to protect.
Too damned slow. We’re still cat
ching up. We don’t even know a lot about this Council, and they’re a small group. What if an entire Oriceran country decides to come after us? What if they form some sort of alliance and invade our planet? They talk about their fancy treaties, but they still had wars that make ours look like nothing.
A small green light in the distance caught his attention.
“What the hell is that? Drone? No, too far away.”
He took another sip. The light slowly grew. Some sort of plane. Maybe even a meteor.
General Francis blinked several times as he realized that light was growing larger and coming straight at him.
The man barely had time to register the thought as a massive energy blast slammed into the side of his house and exploded. Glass, metal, and wood rained down.
7
Good times, Trey thought. I thought we had good times as gang members, but that shit was nothing compared to this.
He and Shorty strolled down the street, hands in their pockets. No job, no heat, no concern, just two men appreciating life.
Shorty looked at his friend and smirked.
“What’s so fucking funny?” Trey asked.
The other man shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in regular clothes and shit instead of suits. Fuck, I’m wearing a suit most of the time. Now it ain’t even seem strange. Have to remind myself I ain’t no business bitch.”
Trey shrugged. “No crime to look good and dress good, whether you’re a bounty hunter or a businessman.” He grinned. “Well, maybe it is when you’re as motherfucking handsome as I am.” He tugged on his silk shirt. “Not that I don’t still look like the handsomest motherfucker on the planet even without a suit.”
Shorty laughed. “It’s just weird, you know what I’m sayin’? Last year we were hoods, and the cops were breathin’ down our necks, and other gangs were fuckin’ with us. Now we hangin’ out with cops all the time. Other gangs don’t want to be within a mile of us because they’re so afraid of the Brownstone Agency’s rep.” He tapped his head. “You sayin’ that shit don’t fuck you over? It fucks with me. Not sure if it’s easier or harder than bein’ in the gang.”
“I don’t know if it’s easier, with all this bounty hunting and shit, but I do feel better, and I think that’s more important. All I know is that my Nana don’t look at me no more with that ‘You’re such a disappointment, Trey’ look she used to. She’s proud of me now, and that’s all I need to know.”
A thoughtful look passed over Shorty’s face. “Can I be honest with you, man?”
“Shit. You always can. Don’t be pissed at me because I was right about us not doing as well at the last barbeque contest. We just need more practice, and then we’ll always be taking first. I know I can be a bitch sometimes, but I was just trying to keep y’all from getting ahead of yourselves.”
Most of the boys had been devasted when the judges showed up and told them they hadn’t placed. Only James and Trey hadn’t been surprised.
Shorty snorted. “Nah, this ain’t about no barbeque shit. I guarantee we kick ass next time, though.” He frowned and rubbed his neck. “It’s… Fuck, man, I never thought I’d even make it this far.”
“What do you mean?”
Shorty shrugged. “I joined a gang because I wanted to have a bunch of brothers to have my back, but now it’s all that shit that Staff Sergeant’s been fillin’ our heads with. Confusin’ me. Philosophy, history, and all that. It just makes me think about how I figured I could live a hard life, and it didn’t matter because I was gonna be dead. Why plan for a future you ain’t gonna have?”
Trey arched a brow. “And now?”
“Fuck. Now I’m all thinkin’ about the money and shit I need to save for when I get married. And about how expensive college and shit is for any kids I have. We make good money workin’ for the big man, but I can’t do bounty hunting forever. I figure it’s like pro ball, you know? We work it for a few years and save our money. But it’s fuckin’ weird I’m even thinkin’ that way.”
“Thinking about the future ain’t so bad.”
Shorty shook his head. “Nah, it ain’t, but it’s still weird, and I can’t stop thinkin’ about that kind of shit lately.”
Five thugs sauntered out of a nearby alleyway and formed a line to stop the two men’s advance.
Trey grinned. This would be a nice distraction for his friend.
Sometimes you just think too much, Shorty.
“Can we help you?” Trey asked, looking them up and down. No matching tattoos and they ran the range of races, including a white guy, black guy, Asian guy, Hispanic guy, and some dude Trey was pretty sure was Indian, but they all wore matching two-tone red and white bandanas around their left biceps. America the Beautiful, bringing together people in both honest and dishonest families.
Blood Tornadoes, huh? Man, these guys are fucking nothing if they’re just mugging people on the street. That’s bitch-ass shit.
The tallest of the thugs stepped forward with a grin. “Yeah. We’re collecting for a charity. We call it the Poor Brothers of Los Angeles.” He shrugged. “Every donation helps.” He licked his lips. “And you got some damned fancy clothes and watches. We think you could make a nice donation.”
Shorty snorted. “Bitch, please. Turn your asses around before we teach y’all a fuckin’ lesson.”
The tall thug laughed. “You fucking kidding me? You think you can win five against two, bitch?”
Okay, got to play this the right way.
Trey nodded. “You’re right. It’s not a fair fight.”
Shorty frowned at Trey. “What the fuck are you going on about, Trey?”
The thug chuckled. “That’s right, so give us your shit. Fuck, I’ll be generous. We’ll just take those fine-ass watches of yours. That’s real nice of us, I think.”
Officers Davidson and McMillian made their way down the street on foot patrol. They were about fifty yards away from the confrontation when McMillian frowned.
He shook his head. “Damned Blood Tornadoes. I thought they would have learned their lesson after a bunch of their guys got popped last week for mugging people in broad daylight.”
The cop stepped forward but stopped when Davidson put his hand on his arm. “No. Don’t worry. Go ahead and call it in, because we’ll need to cart them off afterward, but after that just sit back and watch this shit. It’s going to be priceless.”
McMillian looked at his partner like he’d lost his mind. “What the hell? We need to protect those two from the Blood Tornadoes. I’m not going to sit here and let two men be mugged right in front of me.”
Davidson shook his head. “Trust me. I know those two, and the only people who are going to get hurt in the next few minutes are those dumbass gang members. They should know who they are screwing with before they start something.”
Trey rubbed the back of his neck. When he had doubts about the appropriate course of action, there were a lot of people he could draw on, from Marcus Aurelius to Sun Tzu, but he had a far simpler way to decide: WWTBMD? What would the big man do?
Trey shook his head. “So, if we give you our watches you won’t beat our asses?”
The thug pulled out a switchblade and popped the blade. “No, motherfucker. If you give us your watches, we won’t slice your fucking faces up. Understand now?”
“I just wanted to make sure I had the right idea.” Trey sighed. “There’s two of us, but only five of you. That ain’t fair to you, but you’ve pissed me off enough I don’t mind beating your ass. I just wanted to make sure we didn’t kick your asses when you were just asking for directions or some shit.” He cleared his throat. “Last chance to turn around, assholes. I ain’t paying for no broken bones.”
The big man would have put you through a window by now. I’m fucking restrained in comparison.
Shorty’s face broke into a feral grin.
The thugs spread out, the rest of them pulling knives.
The tall thug shook his head. “You’re fucking dead, bitc
h. You shouldn’t have had such a smart mouth.”
He charged Trey and stabbed at him. The bounty hunter grabbed his arm with ease and twisted his wrist. Trey threw an elbow right into his face, and it landed with a loud thud and audible crunch.
Trey laughed. “Shorty’s niece Jessica could stab a fucker harder than that. You even trying?”
The tall thug fell backward, already unconscious, his nose askew and his knife clattering on the pavement.
“What the fuck?” one of the other thugs shouted.
Shorty took advantage of the distraction to smash a powerful hook into his closest enemy. The thug’s head snapped back, and he stumbled into another man. The bounty hunter rushed forward and slammed a boot into the man’s stomach. The thug fell to the ground, clutching himself and groaning.
Trey delivered several savage jabs to another man, and he slumped to the ground.
“You bitches should be calling yourself the Glass Jaw Gang.” Trey bounced on the balls of his feet. “And now it’s down to two on two. Odds keeping getting worse. Sucks to be you.”
Both of the remaining gang members flourished their knives and tried to look menacing, but their faces screamed fear.
Shorty chuckled. “You call that shit a knife? I’ve had bounties come at me with butter knives that were scarier.”
One of the men lunged toward Shorty, who met the man’s face with his fist. The loud crunch made even Trey wince, but that didn’t stop him from rushing forward to grab the final opponent’s wrist and bending it back until he dropped the knife. A few stomach punches and the introduction of his knee to the man’s face finished the fight.
Trey spat. “I won’t defile Sun Tzu by quoting him to you bitches. Stupid dumbass motherfuckers.”
Shorty shook his head. “Fuckin’ trash. They should know better.”
Both men tensed as two uniformed officers rushed across the street. Trey relaxed when he got a better look at one of them.
The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus Page 83
