She Is The Widow Maker

by Michael Anderle

  The banker might be in the middle of some furious document review, but with only ten minutes until the appointment that was doubtful.

  James made his way to the personal bankers’ desks on the opposite side of the room, stopping in front of a desk behind which sat a blond pretty-boy a good ten years younger than him. The nameplate on the desk read Douglas Nestor.

  The banker looked up at him with a blinding smile. A person almost needed magic to get teeth that white.

  This is the guy I talked to on the phone? He looks like a douchebag.

  Doug nodded toward the customers in line for the teller. “I’m sorry, sir. If you want to cash a check, you’ll need to get in the teller line. I don’t handle that sort of thing. You can also go down the street to the 7-11. They’ll charge a small fee.”

  James grunted. “We have an appointment.”

  The banker looked James up and down with obvious disdain. “I specialize in business accounts, so I’m pretty sure you have an appointment with someone else, Mister…”

  So you are a douchebag, don’t only look like one.

  “Brownstone. James Brownstone. We spoke on the phone earlier about the agency I’m starting.”

  Doug stared at the bounty hunter as if he were having difficulty processing the revelation.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Brownstone.” Doug smiled and motioned to a chair in front of his desk. “You aren’t what I was expecting.”

  The chair creaked as James sat. “You were expecting a bounty hunter to wear a suit and tie?”

  Well, Trey wants to wear one. Guess that’s not crazy.

  “No, no, it’s not that. You’re a man of some means, at least based on the assets you have at this bank. I didn’t expect you to be so…” He gestured toward James. “Well, um…interesting? Maybe I was expecting some sort of uniform or something, like Grayson. I saw an interview with their commander the other day. Interesting group.”

  James narrowed his eyes. “Grayson’s boys aren’t bounty hunters, they’re mercenaries. Not the same thing at all.”

  “Oh, yeah, right. Right.”

  “I’m a successful bounty hunter. High-level bounties pay a lot of money, and I’ve invested well. I have no idea what other bounty hunters look like, only myself. Is that gonna be a problem?”

  “No problem, Mr. Brownstone.” Doug’s forced smile returned. “Like I said, you weren’t what I expected. I apologize for any offense.” The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  He picked up some papers and straightened them before setting them aside. “From what we discussed earlier, you’re not interested in a small-business loan?”

  “No, I don’t need one. I have plenty of money to fund everything myself.”

  “Are you sure, Mr. Brownstone? You see, a lot of people like to operate businesses out of their home, but from what you said earlier, you’re going to have employees. An office space can do a lot to make you seem more professional and help your reputation.”

  James was surprised. After everything that had gone down during his raid on the local Harriken headquarters and some of the ensuing media coverage, he assumed most people had some clue who he was. The Demon Generals not recognizing him on sight was one thing, but they at least knew of his dealings with the Harriken.

  Doug being a douche earlier and comparing him to Grayson he’d attributed to the man not liking bounty hunters, rather than being clueless. James didn’t worry too much. It didn’t matter if the douchebags didn’t understand, as long as the scumbags did.

  “You don’t watch a lot of tv, do you, Doug?”

  “No, not really. Why?”

  “My reputation isn’t much of an issue. People know that I can get the job done, and soon they’ll understand that my employees can, too. We don’t need an office for now, but I’ll keep what you said in mind.”

  About the last thing he wanted to do was help Doug earn any commissions.

  The banker nodded and disappointment settled over his face. “We’ll just get your business accounts set up for you then.” He pulled his keyboard over and tapped away. “You sure you’re not interested in a business equipment loan? Drones and computers can be expensive, and I’m sure you use all sorts of fancy and expensive tools when you’re going after your man, and all that.”

  James grunted. Doug the Douche was right, but that didn’t change the fact the bounty hunter didn’t need any loans.

  “Nah. I’m good. Just the business accounts. Just need somewhere to park money and pay expenses, and some accounts to pay employees.”

  “And you’re already bonded and insured?”

  “Yeah. You can’t get your license without being bonded and insured.”

  Doug nodded. “I was going to recommend a company otherwise. I can get you competitive rates if you’re interested.”

  Just give it up already, Dougie-boy.

  James shook his head. The question reminded him of something important. He’d have to call his insurance company, in addition to getting licenses for his new employees if they wanted to collect on the actual bounties. Just another thing to add to his ever-growing bullshit list of tasks for starting up his agency.

  Yeah, this is gonna suck way more than I realized.

  The lawyer pushed a huge stack of papers across his desk toward James.

  “Mr. Brownstone, these are your copies, and I’ve also emailed them to you. The paperwork finalizes the creation of your S Corp, but I’m somewhat concerned about your rather tenuous grasp on some of the employment regulations, based on our earlier conversation.”

  James shrugged. “Not like I’ve employed people before. If I knew it all I wouldn’t need you.”

  The lawyer chuckled. “I suppose that’s true, but keep in mind that a lot of different agencies have their interests in these things, both in terms of taxes and employee treatment. You need to cross your I’s and dot your T’s. I’d love to have your future business, but I also try to make sure my clients don’t step into unnecessary trouble.”

  James sighed. So much for keeping it simple. He’d figured starting the Brownstone Agency wouldn’t be a huge deal—that he’d just pay for a business license online and have a lawyer draw up a few employment contracts—but between visits to the bank, the police department, city hall, and the lawyer, he’d burned off a few days accomplishing not much of anything other than paying people for the privilege of condescending to him.

  James groaned. “That’s what I’m paying you for, right? To let me know what I need to do?”

  “I can help you with contracts and that sort of thing, but I’m more concerned about your compliance with employment and tax law on a continual basis, especially given that you seem to want to bring on a lot of questionable employees.” The lawyer rolled his eyes.

  James didn’t give a shit what the man thought about his hiring practices. Bringing on gang members would take them away from a criminal career. It was a win for everyone including the cops, even before considering that the men were going to help bring in other criminals.

  “Who knew it’d be so fucking hard to start a business?” the bounty hunter muttered. “No wonder I never wanted to be an employer! The government is doing everything it fucking can to make it a pain in the ass.”

  The lawyer chuckled. “That’s California for you.”

  “Well, what should I do if you can’t help me with that sort of thing? I don’t have time to go to law school right now.”

  “It’s easy. I’ll send you the contact information for several reputable HR management firms. You can outsource most of the busywork to them. You just have to pay them and sign things on occasion then.”

  James grunted. “So they’ll be able to handle all the damned regulations and taxes and shit?”

  “Yes, that’s a good summary of what they’ll accomplish. Given your unique needs, I’ll narrow the list down to those who have some experience in dealing with the interface of magic and employment law.”

  “Thanks.” James glanced at a clock on th
e wall. “We almost done? Not trying to be rude, but I have my third appointment at the bank today to continue setting up all the freaking agency accounts. I swear they’re just making me come back so they can try and push more products on me.”

  “Probably.” The lawyer shook his head. “You’ve signed everything I needed you to sign. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

  I’m sure the Department of Screw Jobs will show up soon and demand some additional money.

  James was halfway to the bank when his phone announced a call from Shay.

  “Hey,” he answered, the built-up irritation from the last few days obvious in his voice.

  “Hey, Brownstone,” Shay replied. “What are you doing, dumbass? You sound kind of pissed.”

  “I’ve been running around town the last few days trying to get a business set up. It’s been fucking annoying, and there’s this douchebag at the bank I want to throw across the room because he doesn’t know how to take a hint.”

  “Huh? Business? What the hell are you talking about? You decide you don’t want to be a bounty hunter anymore? Gonna open a flower shop? Sell candy?” Shay gasped. “Fuck, you’re gonna open up a barbeque place, aren’t you?”

  “No.” James chuckled and slowed to a stop as a light turned red. “I’ve decided to start the Brownstone Agency. I’m gonna hire a few guys like Trey and use them to go after low-level bounties so I can concentrate on big fish. It’ll also help with bullshit like the cops asking me to track down some pissant bounty they need for whatever reasons.”

  “Huh.”

  “Huh? What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean that’s smart,” Shay clarified. “Not sure I can keep calling you a dumbass. Having help isn’t such a bad thing. Even I have Peyton.”

  The light turned green and James pulled forward. “Even if it’s smart, I’m sure I’ll make a mistake sometime.”

  Shay laughed. “Yeah, probably. You do like to charge in and solve your problems by ass-kicking. Works great most of the time, not so great when you’re dealing with normal people.”

  “Yeah, don’t I know it.” James grunted. “So what’s up? I don’t even know where you are right now.”

  “Australia. What, you want me to call you every night and tell you I’m okay?”

  That didn’t sound half-bad, but he wasn’t about to say that to Shay.

  Shay snickered. “I’m heading to the Outback as part of a job. Not sure how well even my satellite phone will work where I’m going, so I’ll be out of touch for a few days.”

  That didn’t sit well with James. It didn’t matter that Shay had proven she could kick ass and then some. Recent events had pounded home how weird and strange the world could be, even by his already generous standards. His encounter with the despair bug in Japan had reinforced how strength and weapons might not matter if something could get into your head with magic.

  James wanted to tell her it was too risky, but he had no damned right to tell an ex-killer and current tomb raider to avoid danger—especially considering the kind of bullshit he pulled.

  “You don’t show up within five days I’m coming to find you.”

  “I’m a big girl, Brownstone. I don’t need someone to come looking for me.”

  “You’re not a big girl. You’re a tiny woman.”

  “Yeah, compared to your Neanderthal ass, sure.” He swore he could hear her rolling her eyes over the phone.

  “Look,” James began, “I’m just saying… You’ve had my back more than a few times. Not such a big deal if I have yours.”

  Shay snorted. “That’s because you’re not as careful as me. I don’t need you to have my back.”

  “You telling me you could have handled the Brujos Rojos yourself on our first job together?”

  “You’re damned right I could have. Probably could have killed them quicker than you.”

  James laughed. “You thought you’d be able to shoot them.”

  “I just wanted to let you feel like you were doing something useful.”

  The bounty hunter chuckled as he made a right turn. “I need to feel useful?”

  “Yeah, you do. Otherwise, you get all mopey and obsess over barbeque.”

  “Nothing wrong with barbeque. It’s better than pizza.”

  “Hey,” Shay retorted, venom in her voice. “There’s no reason to start talking crazy.”

  “Just saying,” James mumbled.

  “Anyway, I’ll be fine. If someone kills me, I’m confident you’ll come and burn down their entire city, so it works either way. Don’t worry me about me. This job is more tedious than dangerous.”

  James pulled off the street into the bank’s parking lot. “I’ve got to go. Bank meeting.”

  “Look at you, Mr. Business Jerk! So many meetings.”

  “Call me when you can. Alison’s worried.”

  Shay sighed. “Okay, I will. Talk to you soon.”

  The call ended, and James finished parking, then stepped out of his truck and shook his head.

  Shay might be fighting strange warlocks or monsters in the Australian Outback, but James had been facing the deadliest of foes for the last few days: bankers, bureaucrats, and lawyers.

  4

  Widowmaker reclined on the soft leather sofa, watching the 108-inch television that dominated the wall. Humans were pathetic in many ways, but she’d grant they did leisure well.

  The bed in the rental home was so soft it felt like lying on air. The spacious windows allowed plenty of light in during the day and a beautiful view of the city at night.

  She could quibble, but it wasn’t a bad place to spend a few weeks while she hunted down James Brownstone and the princess.

  The Drow smiled, thinking about how easy everything had been so far. Even if she’d not immediately been able to find the man and her info from the Black Sun had been useless, the mission wasn’t a burden.

  Securing a temporary base had been her greatest concern, but it’d turned out to be trivial. Taking a home from an unworthy man had been her initial plan, but Laena’s orders had implied Widowmaker wasn’t supposed to make too much public trouble—not that she refrain from killing anyone.

  Indeed, there was no way her superior would have given Widowmaker the task if she’d been worried about deaths other than James Brownstone’s. All magic had a price, after all, and she was more than happy to pay for hers with the lives of the unworthy.

  But the precious technology of the humans had made slaying an unworthy man for his home unnecessary. The Drow assassin had been able to rent a beautiful and palatial rental home in the Hollywood Hills with the help of an app on a phone.

  Widowmaker clucked her tongue and returned her attention to the television. “Fools invite strangers into their homes.”

  On the screen, a husband and wife pair of assassins attempted to slay each other in an orgy of firearms and fisticuffs. The on-screen guide informed her the movie was Mr. and Mrs. Smith and had been made over thirty years prior. The Drow found it enjoyable, as far as human trash went, though she found the killers weak compared to her.

  As far as she could tell, unlike some other human movies she’d seen, the assassins’ only real power was their mastery of human weapons, especially firearms. They wouldn’t last ten seconds against a Drow.

  Something else appealed to her on the screen, and it was as good as time as any to change her appearance. The more confusion she sowed, the more difficult it’d be for the authorities to track her activities.

  Widowmaker rose from the couch, took a deep breath, and reached into her blood. Warmth passed over her as her form shimmered and changed to that of the brown-haired woman in the movie. Her garment became a high-slit black dress.

  She checked the on-screen guide again.

  “Angelina Jolie, hrmm? Good name for a killer.” She tilted her head, realizing it was the name of the actress and not the character, but that didn’t change her opinion.

  Widowmaker sashayed over to a full-length mirror and stare
d at the image. She tsked and slightly shrank her lips.

  “Every man wants a dangerous woman, right?” Widowmaker snickered. “I should use this.”

  She inhaled deeply. Time to harvest and improve Earth…one man at a time.

  The Drow sauntered from her borrowed Ferrari toward the entrance of the dance club. The bouncer grinned at her as she headed in. His eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, but he had likely focused on her body considering her current appearance.

  The thumping bass shook Widowmaker’s bones as she slipped through the crowd. Humans did so adore their excesses. She didn’t understand how they could appreciate music that seemed more concerned with vibrating their bodies than reaching their ears.

  So many aspects of human culture lacked elegance. She was aware of some of the diversity that existed on Earth, but the lowest common denominator seemed to dominate all human cultures.

  Laena was right. Humans were barbarians. Sometimes interesting, but always inferior.

  A man in a tight sparkly shirt smiled at her. His hand lacked a ring, but she didn’t even return the smile, which deflated him. She needed someone unworthy, not just any horny man.

  The Drow continued deeper onto the dance floor, the flashing strobe light highlighting the moving bodies. A few glowing orbs pulsed overhead; pathetic creatures of Oriceran more concerned with mere energy than culture.

  This is what Earth would bring to Oriceran. Decadence. Decay. Barbarism. We need to get the princess away from these creatures.

  A group of red-faced men in business suits in the corner caught her attention. They danced by themselves, and poorly at that.

  Widowmaker stopped to watch them. The men all appeared middle-aged. She had a better chance of finding a married and desperate man among the group. For that matter, he didn’t even need to be that desperate, given her current appearance.

  She inhaled, enjoying the mingling scents of sweat, perfumes, and colognes. The hunt always relaxed her.