James dusted the end table in the living room with a small rag. He didn’t quite get how everything had gotten so dusty after him being gone for only a couple of days, but at least it gave him something easy to do.
There was a loud knock on his door.
James paused the podcast with a tap on his phone. He slowly approached the door and looked through the peephole. No way in hell he’d ever open a door without checking, especially after everything that had happened recently.
Probably some new douchebag like Emperor Freeze or Caliente, Master of Flame, here to earn some rep points by taking him on.
A skinny young black guy in torn jeans, a leather jacket, and a tight t-shirt stood on the other side with his hands in his pockets. A single bandana on his arm communicated his gang affiliation to people in the know. He looked more bored than anything.
James opened the door. “Hey, Trey.”
“Motherfucking Mr. Brownstone!” Trey grinned and stuck out his hand. “It’s been a while, motherfucker.”
The bounty hunter gave the man’s hand a firm shake. “I’m not buying any drugs.”
The gang leader laughed and waved. “Nah, man. I know you ain’t into that shit.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I got some other shit to share with you, but I’d rather do it inside, you know?”
James motioned him inside, and the younger man entered.
Trey stepped forward, glancing around. His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “It’s like… I don’t know, man. It’s like getting to walk into the motherfucking Batcave. You got some bitch-ass butler hanging out here?”
James snorted. “Not last time I checked.”
A confused look settled over Trey’s face. “It’s… Well, I guess it ain’t no Batcave.”
The bounty hunter shrugged. “I’m not a billionaire.”
Trey held up a hand. “Nah, man. I ain’t trying to be disrespectful. It’s just, you’re big shit…the Granite Ghost. This is all low-down; no tech dope. I expected this place to be all super-teched up, and not so fucking clean.” He grinned. “I get it. You got some sweet-ass maid action coming in?”
“Nope. I just like a clean house.” He leveled a stare at the other man. “Are you doing a tour of the houses in the neighborhood, Trey?”
“Nah, man, I just… Look, you know what I like about you, Mr. Brownstone?”
James rubbed his chin, looking Trey over. “That I don’t beat your ass?”
Trey laughed and slapped a hand on his thigh. “Yeah, that’s the shit, too. Yeah, I appreciate that, but it’s something different, you know? You’re a man who understands respect.”
James eyed the gang member. “Respect?”
“Yeah. If someone shows you proper respect, you show ‘em proper respect back. I ain’t no fucking dumbass. I know you could lay out every gang in this area and probably still have time to come home and whack off to some porn. But you leave my boys alone, and I appreciate that.”
James offered the other man a quick nod. That description wasn’t far from the truth, but he didn’t want to tell Trey that it wouldn’t be worth his time to bother.
Still, there was also more to it. Men like Trey kept things under control. Nature abhorred a vacuum, and a city abhorred a criminal vacuum even more. As long as the low-level criminals stayed under control and mostly messed with each other, James figured they were providing a service of sorts to the local neighborhood.
“What’s this about?” James asked.
Trey cleared his throat. “Like I said, it’s about showing respect. You show us respect, and we show you respect. I think we both want the same shit in the end.”
“I’m a bounty hunter, not a gangbanger. I don’t care about territory.”
“Nah, man. Yeah, I get that shit, but you care about the neighborhood.” Trey nodded. “We do too. You do good shit, you know. Like I heard you took down that bitch-ass King Pyro motherfucker.”
James shrugged. “He was a bounty. He was in town.”
“I heard that bitch killed some family.” Trey sneered. “If one of my boys killed some family in a robbery, I’d get my other boys together and beat their ass to death. Just because we’re criminals ain’t mean we’re animals.” He leaned forward. “I heard that bitch also threatened your dog.” His eyebrows went up.
“Not exactly,” James replied, “but close enough.”
“That was a dumbass move.” Trey leaned against a wall and crossed his arms. “Also you should know that the word on the street is, the Harriken been asking around about you the last couple of days.”
James snorted. “They’ll need a recruitment drive before they come after me again.”
The gang leader laughed. “Damn, motherfucker. That’s cold.”
“So, have they been around here?”
Trey shrugged. “Fuck if I know. We ain’t been in watch mode. Ain’t too much of a neighborhood watch plan around here.” He rubbed his neck. “Look, that Harriken shit got a lot of us talking. We don’t need outside bitches who don’t know when to stop coming in and messing up our hood.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Maybe you could help with that shit, Brownstone. I don’t just mean the bounty shit. If people know the Granite Ghost will fuck them up if they fuck with the neighborhood, it’ll keep ‘em in line; maybe keep them out.”
James grunted. “So you’re saying you want me to make sure that only local criminals have control?”
Trey shrugged. “I’m saying that we don’t need bitch-ass dog killers and people going after little girls. I’m saying in the end, motherfucker, we all just want to this be an okay place to live. Not just me and my boys, but a lot of normal working bitches in this neighborhood.”
“You deal drugs and pimp women. Don’t you think that hurts people in the neighborhood?”
Trey snorted. “We ain’t give drugs to no one who can’t handle them, and there’s none of that bullshit slapping around girls. We give shit to people who want it, and only fuck with people who fuck with us.” He waved a hand. “That shit don’t matter anyway, because this ain’t about my gang, Mr. Brownstone. Like I said, it’s about this community. This world is fucked-up, man. You know it, and that’s why you do what you do. And all any of us around here trying to do is protect ourselves.” He looked down. “It ain’t like before this Oriceran crap. You never know what fucking shit’s gonna happen now.”
James stared at the younger man, not saying anything for a long while. If he’d learned one thing in the last few weeks, it was that he couldn’t take on the world alone. Hell, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to anymore.
Trey and people like him might be criminals, but at least they gave a small damn about other people around them. That was something to encourage. Ruthless groups like the Harriken shouldn’t be able to operate freely, thinking they could kidnap teenage girls and murder dogs with impunity.
James didn’t blame the police. They were underfunded, and handcuffed by rules and the harsh reality of the new world. A few AET teams weren’t enough to make up for criminals like King Pyro and Sombra. Sometimes he wondered if it was pointless and the world was doomed.
“Getting involved in other people’s shit complicates things,” James rumbled, breaking his silence. “And I like things simple.”
“Shit, yeah, I get that. I’m all about simple, motherfucker. I’m not saying you need to become shadow mayor or some shit. I’m just saying if people know you’re willing to help more on occasion, it’ll help everyone. We all respect you, Brownstone.”
“You all fear me.”
“Same shit.” Trey shrugged. “You live here, too, is all I’m sayin’. Maybe we can clean this shit up a little. I got my boys on a tight leash, and I’m thinking that leash can be even tighter if I know I don’t have to constantly watch my back. And plenty of other people out there ain’t even on the wrong fucking side of the law like me. You the real shit, Mr. Brownstone. I’m just a motherfucker with some friends.”
There
was something almost desperate in the young man’s eyes.
So much for keeping shit simple.
“I’m willing to do something for the community,” James offered. “As long as they’re willing to do shit for me.”
“You gotta spend money to make money. Yeah, I understand that shit.” Trey grinned.
“This doesn’t mean I’m running around the neighborhood solving everyone’s problems. I’m a bounty hunter. I’m just saying that I know how to repay debts.” James’ gaze flicked to the empty area where Leeroy’s bowls used to sit. “And too much trouble in the neighborhood makes my life complicated.”
“Exactly, Mr. Brownstone. Exactly.” Trey’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Well, shit. I gotta get going. I’ll let you know if I hear anything, and I think I’ll have a few of my boys take turns just keeping an eye on your house. Don’t want any Harriken motherfuckers getting the drop on my favorite bounty hunter.”
James’ face darkened. “It’d be a sad day for them if they did. I only stopped because I ran out of people to kill.”
Trey chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.” He gave James a quick little salute. “Keep it badass, Mr. Brownstone. Keep it badass.” He headed for the door.
James watched the gang leader as he left his house. Alison, Shay, and now the people of his neighborhood. The Professor. Zoe. His life was growing more complicated each week.
Father McCartney always told him that he was part of God’s plan to fight evil, but he didn’t know what he believed. He looked down at his hand, then balled it into a fist.
He wasn’t a good man, but at least he wasn’t a piece of shit.
21
“I thought you said three days,” Alison exclaimed when she answered.
James frowned and started doing calculations in his head. He sighed. Even though he’d thought about calling her many times the last few days, by the time he actually got around to it he’d ended up calling late. He scrubbed a hand across his face.
Yeah, some great father figure he was.
“Um, sorry. There was...sh— Stuff, and, uh. Then Shay said I’d be bothering you, and…”
“Very smooth, Mr. Bro— James.” Alison sighed. “It’s not a big deal. And I’ll never be bothered by you calling. I just didn’t know if you were mad at me, is all.”
“Why would I be mad at you, kid?”
“Because I’m going to this school. Because I didn’t stay with you.”
Oh, great. Now he was making some girl upset because he couldn’t keep his promises. Smooth. Way to be a douchebag.
James shook his head even though Alison wasn’t there to see it. “It’s just been a busy week. Sorry, it won’t happen again. And don’t ever think any mistake I make is your fault. I’m the adult, and I need to damn well act like it.”
“Okay,” Alison replied, her voice quiet.
I’m not fucking Walt. I’m never gonna make you feel bad for being you.
“How are things going for you, Alison?”
“Well, it’s been busy here. I completed orientation and I’ve started classes, but it’s kind of intimidating.”
James grunted. He’d gone to Catholic school, so he could semi-relate to the private school experience. “Why?”
“I’ve always been able to see soul energy, but that’s different than doing magic. A lot of kids here know a lot more about magic than I do. I feel stupid, and I’m way behind.”
James grunted. “Most people didn’t know crap about real magic until not all that long ago. Don’t beat yourself up. What about the other kids? Are they talking trash to you?”
His free hand curled into a fist, and he reconsidered the merits of terrorizing some punk teens.
“They’re just students, you know? Some are nice, some aren’t. I don’t know how it compares to normal school, ‘cause I never went.”
James gritted his teeth. “You tell those little asses they better be nice if they don’t want me coming over there and feeding them to a Chupacabra.”
Alison laughed. “I don’t think we have a Chupacabra on campus. It’s okay, you know. I’ve made some friends, and I’m getting to know more people.” She sighed.
“If it’s okay, then why are you sighing?”
“It’s just… Okay, I’m scared. I lived at home my entire life, and now I’m over here. Mom’s gone, and... It’s a lot to deal with.”
James took a deep breath. “You need to do what’s best for you, but always keep in mind that if you want to leave I’ve got your back. I have a room here for you.”
“Thanks, James. I...think I’m gonna be okay. One sec.” A scratching noise came next, followed by some muffled talking. James assumed she was talking to someone else. “I have to go now. Sorry.”
“Everything okay?”
James couldn’t help but imagine some rabid top-hatted ferret flying around and blasting the school with fireballs.
“Yeah. Just more orientation stuff. They are showing me some of the special creatures, and it’s a big scheduled thing, so I can’t miss it.”
“You do what you have to do, and call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks. Talk to you later. Tell Shay I said hi.”
“Talk to you later, and I will.”
The line went dead.
James stared at the phone for a long moment, still wondering if he’d done the right thing by sending Alison to the School of Necessary Magic.
He shook his head. There was no doubt that the half-Drow girl would benefit from learning to control her powers. He couldn’t be a bitch about it just because he felt a little lonely.
“Fuck,” the bounty hunter muttered. “Isn’t there someone’s ass I can kick to take my mind off things?”
James grinned at a sudden idea. There was someone he could potentially take out his anger on. He dialed Stephen.
I hope for your sake, you didn’t fuck this up, Broker Boy.
The broker picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Brownstone.”
“Hey, Stephen. I wanted to follow up on my little investment deal.”
“Yeah, about that.”
James didn’t like the man’s tone. He frowned and pulled back to glare at this phone, even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. If the stockbroker had screwed him over, the bounty hunter would have to reconsider his decision not to bring him in.
“So, yeah,” Stephan began, an amused undercurrent to his voice, “your plan worked well. The stock ended up doubling and then some, but then it went down like a cheap hooker.”
“What the fuck? Doubling and going down? I wanted to help the church, not throw my money away.”
James took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Even though he wanted to be pissy with the man and take out some frustration on him, the stockbroker had gone out of his way to warn him of the risks. Punishing people for his mistakes wasn’t James’ style. He gritted his teeth.
“You okay, Brownstone?”
“It’s all good. I’m hoping my church friend knew when to sell.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “So what am I down?”
“Oh, you’re really not understanding this, are you?” Stephen laughed. “You’re not, Brownstone. You’re up.”
“Huh? What about the hooker dive?”
Stephen snickered. “This is why it’s good you came to a professional instead of trying this shit yourself, Brownstone. You might be good at kicking ass, but you wouldn’t last three seconds day-trading.” His voice dripped with contempt. “I started pushing your stock, but I’d barely bought much of anything when it took off like a rocket on its own. Somebody sold ten thousand shares all at once when it was already well over double.”
Relief washed through him. At least Father McCartney hadn’t taken a hit. The small number of outstanding shares associated with the company at least suggested such.
“That’ll probably be my church friend,” James said.
“Well, I guess all that praying paid off, because he knew just when to exit. Once he
sold, it started a sell-off. Like I told you before, Brownstone, these microcaps are volatile.”
“So how am I not down, then?”
Stephen chuckled. “It never fell below the original price. You’re up on the deal, and your church buddy now has a lot more money to spend on candles and incense. It’s almost like God really is on your side.”
“Or the Devil.”
“Yeah, love of money and all that crap. Hey, whoever delivers the profits in the end, right? You didn’t lose any money, and your friend made a lot. Everyone walks away happy.”
James blinked several times, both surprised and happy. “Thanks, Stephen. You’ve actually done something worthwhile with your life.”
“Damn, Brownstone. Now you sound like my wife.”
James slipped out of his F-350 and headed uneasily into the church. He should have been happy. He’d taken out some bad people in the last week, and his stock plan had helped Father McCartney and the orphanage out of their financial hole.
At least he assumed as much. That was one thing he needed to confirm.
He didn’t even bother to look around before heading straight into the confessional booth. Even if he’d done what he considered good works the last week, that didn’t change the fact that he’d killed a man and beaten another half to death.
Once inside the booth, he slid the door closed. The shadow of Father McCartney crossed the grate.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. This week, among other things, I beat a man half to death.”
“I see,” the priest said, not a hint of surprise in his voice. “God asks us to control our wrath. And what did this man do?”
“Threatened to kill everyone I loved.”
A pained sigh escaped Father McCartney’s mouth. “I would hope that after a while that these people would learn their lesson. And what else, my child?”
“I killed a man. I’ll be honest. I’m not sad because he’s dead. He was a necromancer. He killed innocent people and fuc— He defiled their bodies and made them into the walking dead.”
The priest sucked in a tight breath. “While the Church is still clarifying what types of magic are sinful, from the beginning there has been no ambiguity about necromancy. To defile a body in such a way is among the gravest of sins.”
Rejected By Heaven_An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure Page 17
