by Martha Carr
She shrugged at her sleeping horse.
“How the hell am I supposed to find a lantern that could be, uh, anywhere in Australia?”
Shay laid her sheathed sword and tactical harness beside the sleeping bag. The lantern would have to wait. She could light her own non-eternal lantern, but right now her muscles ached and fatigue fogged her mind.
The horse’d had the right idea. It was time for some sleep. She unzipped her sleeping bag.
Something flickered in the distance.
“What the fuck was that?”
Shay narrowed her eyes. More flickers.
“What now? Some Australia firefly that’s five feet long and has acid breath?”
The tomb raider rolled her eyes and grabbed binoculars from her saddlebags. Shay laughed as she looked through them.
“That’s about the last thing I expected, but it’s almost a relief.”
Six men on horseback rode in her direction, a couple carrying lanterns. Their holsters at their sides cleared up the question if they were armed, but not if they were a danger to her. Only an idiot would have wandered these cursed desert lands without weapons, but the kind of men who were prepared to face such dangers were often the same kind who’d kill people rather than walk away.
Shay slipped her tactical harness back on but left the sword on the ground. A gun and her knives would be sufficient to deal with humans. She jogged over to the gum tree, where she could maintain line-of-sight on the new arrivals but still retain some cover.
The tense minutes passed as the men rode closer. In the moonlight she’d be harder to spot than they were with their lanterns, but she wasn’t invisible, which explained why they slowed as they neared the site.
“Just turn around and leave,” Shay called. “You’re too late.”
One of the men raised a hand, and all of them brought their horses to a stop.
“Now this was about the last thing I expected,” the man called back. His accent was American.
“The site’s been looted. Nothing here for you.”
“By you?”
“The point is, there’s nothing left.”
The man sighed and shook his head. “Sorry. We can’t walk away from this. Do you have any idea how many creatures attacked us on our way here?”
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s been a big fucking pain. Not exactly like it’s been Easy Street for me.”
Several of the men’s hands rested near their pistol grips, and Shay’s hand drifted toward her holster. The red sand was about to get even redder.
“I’ve got to say, though,” the man continued, “I’m impressed. When I heard about the great Aletheia taking the job, I thought there was no way a single tomb raider would be insane enough to go into the middle of the cursed desert by herself when she couldn’t even call for extraction if things got too hot.”
Shay’s jaw tightened. These men shouldn’t have known she was involved, even through her alias. The fact they did and were still there wasn’t a good sign.
“What can I say? I’m a crazy bitch, but I’m not walking away.”
“Because of Antarctica?”
Fucking Yulia.
Shay narrowed her eyes. “Because I complete my jobs.”
The men all laughed before their leader spoke again. “I’ve got nothing but respect for you. You came onto our scene like a lightning bolt. It wasn’t all that long ago that no one had heard of you, but you’ve pounded out high-profile raids left and right by yourself.” He sighed. “That still doesn’t mean I can let you have the artifacts. Here, I’ll even cut you a deal—one we can all be happy about.”
“A deal?”
“Yeah. Ride back with us, and we’ll split the proceeds. Fair’s fair. We’re all taking a hit, but then no one has to worry about getting shot.”
Shay shook her head.
“Well, the other option is we just shoot you and leave your body here for the buzzards, but fuck…there aren’t even many buzzards around this place. Live hard, die young, and leave a good-looking corpse and all that.” The man shrugged and grinned. “I know you’re supposed to be tough, but, sorry, honey, we outnumber you six to—”
Shay’s shot punched the man off his horse. His horse reared, and several of the nearby horses did as well. The tomb raider took advantage of the confusion to keep shooting. Three of the men fell before the group managed to counterattack, and the poor bastard who’d managed to get the shot off received a 9mm bullet in his chest for his trouble.
The whole fight, if Shay could even call the one-sided slaughter that, was over in less than thirty seconds. The men’s horses rushed in every direction now, some with their riders on the ground, and others dragging dead bodies. Her horse shook its head and whinnied.
“Wait, you seriously just fucking woke up? Talk about a deep sleeper!”
The other horses continued bolting into the darkness. Shay had no idea if the men had somehow been following her, or if they’d just been lucky. The former was unlikely. There weren’t a lot of places to hide in the vast expanse of the desert scrubland.
She tsked and shook her head. The only thing the bastards had managed to accomplish was putting a bullet in the gum tree. She felt worse about the hardy tree that had survived centuries in the middle of a cursed wasteland taking a hit than the men she’d killed.
“I gave them the chance to walk away,” she murmured to herself.
Shay patted her horse on the shoulder. “Guess we should get away from here, just in case more assholes show up. Sorry, boy. Just a little more riding tonight, then I have to figure out how to track down the last artifact.”
The tomb raider shot up at the warm touch of the dawn sun, sore but with a clear mind.
Better than a clear mind. Shay was downright inspired.
She grinned and fished the compass out of the backpack, holding it and concentrating on the eternal lantern.
The tomb raider stifled a huge yawn as she stared down at the silver compass. The background research hadn’t provided much information on how to activate the artifacts, so maybe the whole thing was pointless, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.
The needle jerked and spun for a few seconds before stopping abruptly. Judging by the sun, it wasn’t pointing north.
Shay patted the horse. “I’m so damned smart.”
The horse snorted.
“Quiet, you. What are you, a four-legged Peyton?”
A few hours of travel later, Shay stood inside a small cave in a sandstone outcropping staring down at two skeletons with flintlock pistols, swords, and most importantly, a small silver lantern. Tarnish had long since masked its color, but the flickering flame still burned.
Damn, almost five hundred years. That’s impressive.
Shay lifted the lantern with a smile. Time to get the hell out of the cursed desert.
5
Shay stretched as she stepped out of her car into Warehouse Two. The mouthwatering smell of freshly-baked pizza hung in the air. She blinked, having not expected it. A large pepperoni pie lay near the pizza oven, cooling.
She slammed the car door and made her way toward the office. It felt like months instead of weeks since she’d last been in the place. After her adventure in Australia, she’d decided to follow up on some ruins in Japan rumored to have alien symbols on them. The trip had been low-key compared to her tomb raid Down Under, with the only real excitement a popped tire.
Peyton emerged from the office with a wave. Today he wore a powder blue double-knit polyester suit, circa the 1970’s, but Shay couldn’t even work up the energy to make a snarky comment.
Lily was in a white apron, still quiet, working on pulling a pizza out of the oven.
“I’ve been showing her the ropes.” He gestured toward the pizza. “How about a little lunch?”
Shay shrugged and slapped a slice on a paper plate. She sat down in the office and brought the pizza to her mouth. Not the best, but far from bad. She smiled around the bite. So many weeks in the field served as a spi
ce all its own.
“Pretty good,” she commented.
Peyton grinned and shrugged. “I’m leveling up. Slowly, but I am.”
“Just so you know, I’m only sticking around for a few days. I have some errands to run in South America, concerning Brownstone’s amulet and the symbols. I still don’t know if his shit is linked to the stones.”
Lily looked up suddenly, interested.
The man stared at her. “That’s uncanny. You really do have perfect timing.”
Shay took another bite of her pizza before bothering to respond. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I was waiting until you got here to tell you that I’ve ID’d the retrieval specialist working with Project Nephilim.”
“Oh?”
“Francois Durand.”
Shay gobbled down the rest of her slice as she processed the information. She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t know that name.”
Peyton nodded. “I’m not surprised. The guy’s almost a ghost. Like you, Gray Ghost.”
Lily punched him in the arm, eliciting a short yowl out of him. “Friendly kidding about the truth,” protested Peyton.
“Like two people who faked their death?” asked Shay.
“More like a guy who is very, very careful to let only his name get out, nothing else.” Peyton pulled out his phone and tapped it for a few moments.
He held it up to display an image of a lean dark-haired man with a jagged scar across the side of his face in a suit. “But when you’re as good as I am, you can always grab a picture from a camera somewhere.”
Shay nodded, studying the photo in detail. She wanted to recognize the guy instantly if she saw him in a crowd. “What’s this guy’s deal?”
“Well, he’s a French national. Not a big surprise from the name, I know. He’s got a good reputation, but not for freelance tomb-raiding work. Mostly organizational contracting stuff. He describes himself as an artifact-retrieval consultant who can be hired for the right price.” He pointed toward the picture with his free hand. “That’s the good news.”
“How?”
“Everything I’ve ever read about the man suggests he’s neutral. Only cares about cash, not politics.”
Shay grabbed another slice of pizza. “Doesn’t help me if a man screws with me because he’s getting paid rather than because he’s a true believer. I don’t think deep politics are Yulia’s motivation.”
“She’s pure essence of bitch,” muttered Lily.
“Just saying that he’s not some sort of US Special Forces guy who’ll fight you for truth, justice, and apple pie.”
“True enough. What’s this guy’s rep for dealing with interference?”
“I couldn’t really find much, just that he’s skilled in a number of relevant areas. Research, firearms…that sort of thing.”
“I care more about if he’ll try and blow me up with a rocket launcher if he happens to see me near an artifact. If I have to take someone down during a tomb raid because they are going after me I’ll do what I have to, but if I’m not careful, Aletheia will end up with a bounty on her head just like Shay Carson.” She shrugged. “Guess I’ll just have to beat this guy to the artifacts. What else you got? Anything personal?”
Peyton put his phone back in his pocket. “When Durand isn’t on a job, he’s been spotted around watering holes in DC, London, and Munich.”
“But not Paris?”
“Nope.”
“Interesting. Has he had any trouble with the French government?”
“Not that I’ve found, but we’ll keep looking. I’m teaching Lily how to hack. We’re like Alison’s school but instead it’s the school of necessary life skills.”
“Like online stealing.”
Peyton gave Lily a gentle nudge. “I believe we called that lesson, online reappropriation. C minus.” He pointed at Shay’s pizza. “Eat up before Lily moves on in. The girl can pack it away. You won’t be getting seconds if you don’t put a move on.”
Lily put down the long wooden paddle and slid three pieces onto a paper plate as Peyton nodded in her direction.
Shay was already learning how to let most of their conversations just flow over her, picking out the information she needed and ignoring the rest.
“Keep searching. If there’s someone else we can point at this guy to make our lives easier, I’d rather do that.” Shay took a bite of her pizza, letting the savory flavors linger on her tongue.
Great. First Yulia, now this guy.
A few days and a visit to South America later, Shay sat at one of the larger tables in Warehouse Four with some books, including several on South and Mesoamerican pyramids and the notes from an expedition to an Egyptian pyramid. The materials had earlier aided her in identifying the alien nature of Brownstone’s amulet, and now she wanted to crosscheck the symbols on his amulet against the symbols from the different alien stones.
Photos of the three different stones sat on the table: Mexico, Illinois, and the one from Project Nephilim. A photo of Brownstone’s necklace lay right above them, allowing for easy comparison.
Shay was not a linguist, but even she could see the that the symbols on the stone and the symbols on Brownstone’s necklace looked nothing alike.
She groaned and rubbed her temples.
Maybe there’s no connection there to find? How do I know Brownstone’s amulet was made by the same people? Because I just think it sounds too convenient to have two new alien planets? But how the hell can I be sure?
“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t become an academic,” she muttered. “I might have started killing people out of frustration.”
Her phone rang. It was Brownstone.
Speak of the alien…
“What’s up?” Shay answered.
“What are you doing?”
“Huh?”
“I asked, what are you doing?”
Shay sighed and stared at the pictures. “Research for…a job.”
This was the problem with growing closer to the man. Lying to him—even by omission—tightened her stomach, but if Brownstone realized the government might be sniffing around him, it’d end poorly for everyone and a few city blocks would go up in flames.
He was famous enough now from his Harriken antics that the government wouldn’t likely make him disappear even if they found out that his amulet was of extraterrestrial origin, and there was no evidence that she or Peyton had stumbled across to suggest that was true anyway. Everything she’d found suggested people assumed Brownstone was just using Oriceran artifacts, and that was if they even knew he possessed superhuman abilities.
“Just was wondering,” Brownstone rumbled, snapping Shay out of her thoughts. “We could do some shit together after Mexico.”
“I’ll…let you know.”
“Okay. Talk to you later.” He ended the call.
Shay stared at her phone, then set it on the table. Mexico. She’d almost put it out of her mind. The exploration of Brownstone’s background in South America had led to conversations in which she’d admitted some of her history and the truth about the men targeting her.
“The Nuevo Gulf Cartel. They were the ones who wanted me dead, but it was more an excuse. It’s not like I’m running from them in particular. They make it harder for me, since they’d come after me if they knew I was still alive.”
“Aren’t you tired of running? Tired of looking over your shoulder?”
Brownstone’s go-to solution to the problem of an international criminal gang being after him was to kill people until they stopped, and he’d offered to help her apply it to her problem.
She had to admit there was a certain elegance to the plan of just killing most of your enemies. The cartel had even offered them an opportunity in the form of a leadership meeting, so it was time for a little vacation to Mexico for tequila and murder.
Shay might not be free by the time they were finished, but she was making a whole new set of enemies in her new job, so she might as well
clean up some of the old ones.
Peyton winced as he read the phone alert from one of his LAPD monitoring bots.
“Shit, this is bad.”
This was supposed to be a great day. After all, the Alien Ass-kicker himself, James Brownstone, was standing in Warehouse Three just around the corner from Peyton. He and Shay were gearing up for their trip to Mexico, so Peyton was getting a rare opportunity to talk directly with the man.
Shay had conveniently played musical warehouses with Lily, getting Peyton’s assistance to move her around one step ahead of Brownstone. Lily grew tired of the game and eventually gave him the slip, not that he was trying that hard to hold on to her.
He knew that when she was determined it was easier to give in. She’d return from one of her mysterious jaunts when she was ready.
Peyton looked back down at the alert on his phone.
Brownstone has all sorts of police contacts. Maybe he has some idea what to do.
Peyton took a few deep breaths and stepped around the corner.
The bounty hunter glanced at him. “Problem, Peyton?”
Guess my face must be telling it all.
“I’m always monitoring stuff in case people are looking for Shay or me.” Peyton shrugged.
Brownstone’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, and?”
“I was, uh, poking around in the LAPD system, and I found out that AET is looking for Shay.”
“Why would AET want Shay? How the hell do they even know who she is?”
“They got a partial image from a drone from that airport fight when you guys took down that assassin before heading to Japan. From what I can tell, the AET reached out and the FBI sent some information back linking the image to…well, Shay. They don’t know her real name, but they know she was a hitman on the East Coast and think she’s dead, that sort of thing.” Peyton sucked in a breath. “Shit, what should we do? If they get serious, it’ll be hard for her to hide. Too many drones and cameras in this city.”
