When Angels Cry_An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure Read online

  When Angels Cry

  The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book Six

  Michael Anderle

  When Angels Cry (this book) is a work of fiction.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2018 Michael Anderle

  Cover by Andrew Dobell, www.creativeedgestudios.co.uk

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US edition, June 2018

  The Oriceran Universe (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are Copyright (c) 2017-18 by Martha Carr and LMBPN Publishing.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  Other Revelation of Oriceran Universe Books

  Books by Michael Anderle

  Connect with Michael Anderle

  When Angels Cry Team

  Special Thanks

  to Mike Ross

  for BBQ Consulting

  Jessie Rae’s BBQ - Las Vegas, NV

  Thanks to our Beta Reader

  Natalie Roberts

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  Mary Morris

  John Ashmore

  James Caplan

  Kelly O’Donnell

  Daniel Weigert

  Peter Manis

  Tim Bischoff

  Paul Westman

  Larry Omans

  Micky Cocker

  If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!

  Editor

  Lynne Stiegler

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  to Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  to Live the Life We Are

  Called.

  1

  The Light Elf consul paced in front of his massive oak desk, a tablet computer in hand.

  Laena forced her face to remain impassive, although the display of a magical being bending the knee so easily to technology disgusted her.

  This is what you’ve let fear do to you. Pathetic. We won’t remain strong by imitating humans.

  The consul shook his head and stopped. “Multiple murders. Thefts. Breaking and entering. Soul-fed magic. A massive public assault on the Los Angeles Police Department AET, which put several of their personnel in the hospital.”

  The Drow folded her hands in her lap and said nothing. She would allow the Light Elf his little rant for the moment.

  “If the Anti-Enhanced Threat teams hadn’t had magical protection amulets the Drow would have slaughtered them.” The consul sucked in a breath and shook his head. “Then it would have been on every television channel for next three months.”

  Laena allowed the corners of her mouth to turn up, even if she didn’t say what she was thinking.

  They should be proud they even survived such an encounter, let alone triumphed. It speaks to some minor skill and ability among those humans. Still, Widowmaker must have underestimated them.

  The consul shook the tablet. “Do you understand the implications of this, Your Highness?”

  The Light Elf’s lack of respect would have earned her wrath in any other circumstance, but slaying a Light Elf consul would lead to war. Even refusing to meet with him and disrespecting the Light Elf presence in the city would lead to violence.

  The Drow were not ready for that. At least not yet. The Princess had to be recovered before any other plans were considered. Another strategy was in order.

  “From what I understand,” Laena began, “the human authorities blame the death on a magical human assassin. It’s also my understanding that they don’t even have the bodies of the so-called murder victims.” She gave him a cold smile. “I’m not saying that a Drow was responsible for any of this, but I am noting there’s little evidence directly linking a Drow to any of these unfortunate events in this twisted and violent city.”

  The consul scoffed. “We both know that your pet cleaned up her murders by sending bodies to the World in Between. Our own people have found traces of portal magic. We also have consulate staff who witnessed one of your people changing shape.”

  “Shape-shifting isn’t a crime even by human laws. Maybe she just wanted to fit in?”

  The Light Elf shook the tablet at her. “It isn’t like the old days. There are enough open human magic users now that blatant disregard for their laws will end in them figuring it out. It’s not like they don't know about the World in Between.” He narrowed his eyes. “And don’t think we’ve not clearly established the use of portal and rift magic by your Drow.”

  “Again, not a crime, even by human laws.”

  “Do you think the humans are so stupid?” the Light Elf yelled. “Even if their laws and society haven’t caught up with all magic, their government knows what to look for. The only reason they are still clueless is that the consulate took measures.” He shook his head. “What do you think would happen if it became public that an Oriceran assassin was rampaging through a city murdering men with impunity and nearly killing police officers? You risked war, even after you were warned.”

  Laena’s face twitched. Even her patience had limits.

  War? We only seek to reclaim what is ours.

  The two Drow Royal Guards waiting outside the office exchanged glances.

  “She’s not yelling,” one man observed

  The other nodded. “Politics.”

  “She’s still going to be angry when she comes out.”

  “Widowmaker should be happy she’s already dead. The queen would have spent the next twenty years flaying the skin off her body, otherwise.”

  Both men shook their heads. Inconveniencing the queen was a minor issue. Inconveniencing the queen and failing was a grave dishonor.

  The red-faced Light Elf set his tablet on the desk and crossed his arms. “My superiors are gravely concerned about this situation, and they’ve made it clear that they want me to pass along their displeasure to you, Your Highness.”

  Laena snorted. “I’m well aware of their displeasure, but as I said, even if I were to admit a Drow had been involved in all these unfortunate incidents, what would you have me do? We will not prostrate ourselves before the human authorities. Do not insult me by pretending that the Light Elves or any other of the races here always carefully ask for permission for all activities on Earth.”

  “Activities? Is that what
you call a murder spree?”

  “Perspective is important in all things, so yes.”

  The consul rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a long, weary sigh. “May I offer a suggestion, Your Highness?”

  Laena nodded, appreciating that the Light Elf was calming down and remembering his place.

  “Why not offer the city a gift? You can present it as the Drow being concerned about some of the recent chaos. That way it will come across as goodwill; a group trying to show their respect upon their arrival in this city.”

  Laena nodded. “I refuse to admit to anything, and the Drow refuse to admit to anything.”

  “We’re not asking you to. We’d prefer it if none of us ever had to explain who that individual really was. It’d only cause trouble for all of us. The humans aren’t always that good about distinguishing one Oriceran from another.”

  The queen allowed herself a sneer. “Are you worried these primitives will descend upon you with their precious technology?”

  The consul narrowed his eyes. “Earth and Oriceran are now too linked to focus on how we used to do things. If we want a lasting peace, we must be mindful of everyone’s concerns. You can refuse to like that, but it doesn’t change the truth.”

  “Peace? What do humans know about peace? Their history is nothing but constant warfare for the pettiest and most banal of reasons. Some of their leaders make Rhazdon look like a pacifist.”

  “Be that as it may, this is the reality all races must now contend with, even the Drow.”

  Laena stood. “Yes. For now.”

  The consul glared at the Drow queen. “Don’t do something like that in my city again.”

  She sniffed and headed for the door without answering.

  I will do whatever I need to for my people, Light Elf.

  Shay opened the door of James’ F-350 and stepped onto the sidewalk. The dark clouds threatened rain, but so far had only delivered mist. That was still enough water to threaten her coat and the Black Halo slip dress she’d chosen for the evening. She wasn’t going to let herself get soaked on her date with James to a fancy Italian restaurant.

  She turned back to him before closing the door. “I’m gonna run down to the alley and take a shortcut. It’ll be drier that way.”

  He gave her a nod. “Okay, I’ll catch up after I park.”

  Shay shut the door and hurried toward the alley. The tall buildings on either side kept the alley clear, and she smiled as she stepped into it.

  Several footfalls sounded behind her. She tensed.

  The nice woman having a date vanished, and the tomb raider and ex-killer took over. She turned to find three large men standing in the alley with wide grins on their face.

  The men radiated menace and arrogance. They were several years younger than her and lacked any obvious gang tattoos or colors. They weren’t dressed nicely enough for the typical organized crime enforcer, so they were probably nothing more than good old-fashioned freelance thugs.

  One of the men leered at her. “Damn, woman. Take off that coat so we can see the rest of those curves.”

  “Yeah,” another man offered. “You’ve got a smoking body. Why don’t we have a little fun?”

  Shay sighed. “Just turn around and walk away, assholes. You don’t want trouble.”

  The first man laughed. “Bitch’s got a mouth on her. Bet I could put it to good use.”

  This was just supposed to be one nice night with my man before I hit a raid, and these assholes had to go and screw that up.

  Shay shook her head. She could take these fools down without even chipping a nail, but she had other immediate and practical concerns stopping her.

  She crossed her arms. “Look, normally, I’d beat the shit out of you, but I went to a lot of trouble to dress nicely. If I kick your asses, I might tear my dress or break my heels.” She shook a foot. “Four-inch heels. Nice.”

  “Oh, I’m so fucking scared.” The men all trembled. “I like feisty, bitch, but don’t push it. Maybe you should get on your knees and make nice before we get pissed.”

  Shay grinned as a shadow fell over the men. “Like I said, I don’t want to risk my outfit.” She pointed. “So I’m gonna let him take care of it.”

  The men spun to find a glaring and suited James cracking his knuckles.

  “Guess I could use a little exercise before dinner,” the bounty hunter rumbled. “And I don’t think this suit will rip easily.”

  Shay gave a little wave. “Sorry, boys. Should have taken my advice and just left.”

  She continued down the alley, her heels clacking against the asphalt. Their sound mixed with the screams echoing from behind her.

  James held open Palazzo Ducale’s door for Shay, annoyed that the pricks had messed up his night. He had already been tense enough about having to eat at a fancy place again with the woman, and she wasn’t willing to go to an upscale steakhouse and split the difference with him.

  At least Shay was still smiling as she stepped through the door.

  She winked. “You might want to wash the blood off your knuckles, sweetheart.”

  The maître d' smiled from his podium. “Ah, the unbelievable Mr. Brownstone is here tonight.”

  James blinked and looked at Shay. “I thought you had reservations under your name.”

  Shay rolls her eyes. “It’s called being famous.”

  “We’re so pleased to have you here tonight, sir.” The maître d' smiled. “We have a nice table for you and your date tonight, Mr. Brownstone.”

  James shrugged. “Sure, great. Uh, where are your bathrooms?”

  The other man pointed across the dining room. “Just take a right in the hallway, and I’ll seat your date.”

  About five minutes into their soup Shay glanced at James. His stiff shoulders and frown didn’t scream that he was having a good time.

  “Problem, James?”

  “Why are there so many fucking spoons and forks? Is this just some bullshit thing that silverware makers do?”

  Shay laughed. “Oh, that’s what’s bothering you?”

  “Just need a knife, fork, and spoon, right?”

  “The key to fine dining is the right tool for the right food. Just think about it like a fight. Sometimes you need to stab a guy close up, sometimes you need to shoot a guy not so close, and sometimes you need to blow someone up with a rocket launcher.” Shay tapped a fork. “In this case, just go from out to in with each meal course.”

  “This shit is so complicated. How the fuck can people make even eating complicated?”

  Shay gestured to James’ napkin. “And put that in your lap.”

  He grunted and complied, just in time for their waitress. She smiled and laid down two plates filled with cured sausage, olives, anchovies, artichoke hearts, mushrooms, and five different kinds of cheese.

  “Even the cheese is complicated,” James grumbled.

  “Need anything else?” the waitress inquired.

  Shay shook her head. “Not for now. Thanks.”

  James eyed the food like he’d been handed some plate of Oriceran dried insects.

  Shay snickered. “Come on, you can eat cheese and sausage at least.”

  He grunted. “Still not as good as barbeque.”

  By the end of the meal, Shay was pleasantly surprised. James hadn’t embarrassed himself or her, and she couldn’t find a reason to be angry at him. Even though he hadn’t gotten his precious barbeque, he’d had some authentic Neapolitan Pizza Margherita without bitching too much. Hell, he’d seemed to like it.

  There might be hope for you yet, James.

  “Got to hit the can again,” he rumbled.

  Shay snickered. So much for the classy atmosphere, but she’d still take her man, grunts and all.

  James stood and navigated through the dining room. His tense motions suggested he was afraid he’d slam into a waiter or knock over some glasses.

  Two young women stepped past James as he passed into the hallway leading to the restrooms.
/>   The hems of those dresses are so high they are fucking shirts.

  The women stopped, their gazes lingering on James for a moment before they headed back into the dining room.

  Shay’s stomach knotted as déjà vu settled over her. The two young women sat back down at their table right behind James and Shay’s table.

  “I wasn’t sure from a distance,” one of the women murmured. “But up close he’s pretty scrumptious. Not like you have to look at his face when you’re having fun.”

  “He sure fills out his suit well. I’d like to find out if he’s as unbelievable in bed as he is every other way.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he is. I bet he can go all night long and then the next day.”

  Shay sucked in a breath. Opening her heart to love also meant opening her heart to jealousy. She was still learning how to deal with the emotion in a balanced and reasonable manner—one that didn’t involve violence.

  This just means I made a good choice.

  James returned to the dining room and walked toward Shay, a lightness in his step that wasn’t there before.

  “Oh, here he comes. Let’s talk about something else,” one of the women whispered.

  The bounty hunter grabbed the back of his seat.