Hail To The King Read online

  Hail To The King

  The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book Eight

  Michael Anderle

  Hail To The King (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, July 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

  Hail To The King Team

  Special Thanks

  to Mike Ross

  for BBQ Consulting

  Jessie Rae’s BBQ - Las Vegas, NV

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  Daniel Weigert

  Peter Manis

  John Ashmore

  James Caplan

  Kelly O’Donnell

  Tim Bischoff

  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

  No one liked a frowning cop, especially a criminal like Tyler. An angry cop from the LAPD Anti-Enhanced Threat Team was even worse. Without the AET the Black Sun’s neutrality would vanish when the first violent asshole with an ego walked through the door, and given the place’s clientele, that would take exactly two minutes.

  Tyler sat across from the frowning Maria Hall at a table in the corner. The AET lieutenant sipped a beer, her frown sometimes turning into an outright scowl. She’d been quiet since strolling in, which was why he’d offered to chat with her at a table rather than the bar. He didn’t need her exploding at someone until he knew the situation. One punch from a drunk thug and AET would swarm the Black Sun.

  Need to get this shit figured out before I end up with a nasty surprise.

  Tyler forced a smile onto his face. “Problem, Lieutenant?”

  The cop took a long draw of her beer before answering. “It’s annoying when you think you have shit figured out but then everything changes. Not just annoying, frustrating. I’m not a damned rookie. I shouldn’t be making rookie mistakes.”

  Tyler shrugged. “Everyone’s wrong now and again. Even me, on rare occasions.”

  “Sure, but they don’t throw a lot of resources and time at their mistakes, and I have.” Maria set her beer down. “Plus, once you make a mistake, it makes you think about other shit, and that messes with you. Maybe I’m pissed about all these new questions bothering me.”

  “What questions?”

  The cop continued staring at her glass for a few seconds before replying, “About how I might be wrong about a bunch of things, and as a cop, that’s not a feeling I like having.”

  Tyler chuckled. “Having some sort of crisis of conscience?”

  Maria looked up. “I guess you could call it something like that.” She looked at the bartender and shrugged.

  “I figure if you’re not dead, you can always fix it going forward. What were you wrong about?”

  “Brownstone.” The lieutenant locked eyes with Tyler.

  No, no, no. Say ain’t it so, Lieutenant. Your hatred of Brownstone was the thing I liked about you the most.

  Tyler groaned and scrubbed his face with a hand. “No, you’re right about him. He’s still a power-hungry douchebag who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. Fuck Brownstone with a rusty two-by-four.”

  “How do you have a rusty piece of wood?” Maria laughed.

  “You know what I mean.”

  Maria shrugged. “The point is it took me a while, but I get that he’s just a guy trying to move things along the only way he knows how. I know you two don’t see eye to eye, but think about it. If Brownstone really had it in for you this place would be a crater. Busting down your door was nothing, and he even paid for that.”

  A crater? It might still be. Brownstone’s gonna get me back for my little practical joke with his groupies. He might have gotten lucky with those freaks erasing the video, but he still blames me. I know he does.

  “Easy for you to say.” Tyler pointed at her shield. “You’re a cop. Brownstone doesn’t fuck with cops.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. He’s gone out of his way to communicate with the cops when shit’s going down.” Maria glanced down at her uniform and then nodded before looking up. “And I’ve been a petty, jealous little bitch about the whole thing. Brownstone’s saved a lot of lives by taking down high-level assholes, and I have to respect him for that.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m still firmly in the ‘Fuck Brownstone’ club.” Tyler shook his head. “This is one of those things where we’re just going to have to agree to disagree, Lieutenant.”

  “Maria.” She tapped her name tape on her uniform. “Think we’re past the Lieutenant Hall stage of things.”

  “Huh?” Tyler blinked a few times, confused.

  “I hang out here enough and I call you by your name, so why don’t you call me by mine?” She shrugged. “You’ve done it a few times, but mostly you call me Lieutenant or Hall, so let’s make this a little less formal even if I’m not a member of the ‘Fuck Brownstone’ club anymore. Friends can disagree about stuff.”

  Some subtle emotion flickered across her face, but Tyler couldn’t place it. His stomach tightened.

  Shit. What’s going on here? Does she have the hots for Brownstone? I could handle a lot of shit, but not that. Anything but that.

  The bartender returned her shrug. “Okay, Maria. Fine by me.”

  She reached into her pocket to pull out a business card and tossed it in front of him.

  Tyler picked up the card. It was for the Seven Hills, a ritzy and exclusive Italian place that he’d heard of. He’d never been able to score a reservation there.

  He eyed the card. “What’s this about? AET going to raid the Seven Hills?”

  Maria gestured toward the card. “It’s got a date and
time on the back. I’m inviting you to dinner. So unless you decide to do something highly illegal during our meal, there won’t be any cop shit going down.”

  Tyler picked up the card and stared at it like it was some bizarre Oriceran scroll. “Dinner?”

  The cop snorted. “Yeah, you know, the thing where two people eat at night? They often dress up. It might be nice to eat in a place with you that has something a little more substantial than pretzels.”

  “Oh. Sure, I guess. That sounds fine.” Tyler glanced behind him at a pretzel bowl on the bar.

  Maria stood. “Anyway, I’ve got to get going. See you around, Tyler.”

  “See you around, Maria.” He gave her a polite nod, hoping she couldn’t see how confused he was.

  Tyler sat there and stared at the retreating woman as she made her way out of the Black Sun, still stunned and having trouble processing what had just happened. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the tough cop had just asked him, a criminal information broker, on a date at a fancy restaurant.

  Nah, this isn’t a date. It’s something else. Maybe she just wants to talk about Dannec or some shit.

  But that doesn’t make any sense. If she did, we could just talk in my office.

  Tyler groaned. It was a date.

  Shit. How does this work? Am I supposed to pay, or does she? She’s the one who asked me out. Fuck, that place is expensive. Maybe we’ll split the bill?

  Tyler shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. He couldn’t go on a date with her. It wasn’t that Maria wasn’t good enough. She had a good head on her shoulders and a hot athletic body even if he didn’t get to see it on display under her uniform. Even if she’d fallen off the Brownstone hate train, she’d at least understood where Tyler was coming from before, which meant she understood him on some level.

  No, I can’t do this. Date a cop? Even if she’s playing fast and loose with Dannec, she’s still a cop, and this shit will end badly. She’ll start thinking I’m a piece of shit and stop enforcing the neutrality at the Black Sun. Then I’m fucked.

  He groaned and ran his hands through his hair. Several nearby patrons glanced at him with confused looks on their faces.

  “What the fuck is wrong?” he shouted. “Never seen an annoyed man before? Drink your fucking booze and look somewhere else.”

  They returned their attention to their drinks, several cursing under their breath.

  It’s just a date. It’s not like she said she wants to marry my ass or fuck me. I can do this. I should do this.

  Tyler forced himself to his feet. “How can I be an info broker if I don’t know the info and have the contacts?” he muttered to himself. “If I turn her down, she’s going to be pissed with me.”

  The words came out of his mouth and he believed them, but the dread pricking his stomach and heart wouldn’t leave.

  Sergeant Weber was finishing up a report when Matthews strolled up to his desk. The AET officer looked around before leaning toward Weber.

  “What the fuck is up with Hall?” Matthews whispered, resting his arm, palm-down, on Weber’s desk. “You’re practically her secretary, so you should know.”

  The sergeant looked up from his computer. “Huh? What do you mean? She seems fine to me, and I’ve been getting her coffee all day.”

  “She’s also been smirking all day like she knows some shit we don’t know. Something obviously happened last night.” Matthews winked. “Come on, we both know the only time she’s that happy is when she’s ready to drop the boom on someone. I’m not sure who’s in the shitter, but it’s got be someone, and I’m just hoping it’s no one on the team.” A chuckle and a huge grin followed.

  Weber shook his head. “She’s happy with how everything went down with those Drow. Hell, she’s even happy with Brownstone, and he’s been the target of her hate for a while now.” He swiveled his chair to face the other man. “Look, she thought the captain and the mayor were going to ride her ass about getting the National Guard involved, but they both went off about how she showed great initiative, and as far as I know, the consulate had been helping her track the guys. All the brass are happy, so why wouldn’t she be?” He shrugged.

  Matthews frowned. “Then what is it?” He stood up straight and crossed his arms.

  The sergeant shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe she has a date.”

  They stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into loud laughter.

  Matthews slapped his knee. “Yeah, whatever. The only thing the Lieutenant would ever date is a railgun.”

  Charlyce whistled to herself as she folded clothes on the couch. There was nothing like fresh-from-the-dryer clothes: nice warmth and good smell. She wished she could do more for the orphans that day than help with their laundry, but Father McCartney had stressed to her that everything she was doing was helpful.

  I’m useful. I was useful to no one for so many years, and now Trey needs me. The kids need me.

  Father McCartney strolled into the room with a broad smile on his face and his phone in his hand.

  Charlyce finished folding a small green shirt and placed it on a pile before looking at the priest. “You look happy, Father.”

  The priest shrugged. “It’s always helpful to be reminded of the goodness of people. Your weekly assistance is a continuing example of that, as are donations. Our anonymous donor has struck again with a particularly large donation.” He held up the phone for a few seconds before pocketing it. “He just let me know. Or maybe she. I don’t know their true identity.”

  “That’s wonderful to hear.” Charlyce let out a contented sigh and shook her head. “I wonder if it’s an orphan who has fond memories of this place.”

  “Perhaps.” Father McCartney furrowed his brow, then shrugged. “I thought it might be James, and he has donated a lot of money to this place, but when I asked him about it he pointed out that he has no reason to hide donations.”

  Charlyce nodded. “I don’t see why Mr. Brownstone would hide like that.” She grabbed her purse from the small table in front of her and fished out five twenties.

  She stood and offered the money, but looked down at the ground. “I know that it’s not as much as Mr. Brownstones gives or the other donor, but I want to do my part. Not just by being here, but helping you, just like you’re helping all the kids here.”

  Father McCartney accepted the money with a warm smile and took a few steps back. “You misunderstand the value of donations, Charlyce.”

  She sighed and sat back down. “I know. This money ain’t worth much. It’s an insult to what you’re doing.”

  “No, no, no. Not at all.” The priest waved a hand. “A wealthy man who gives soup to another sacrifices little, unlike a man who is half-starving. It isn’t the size of a gift that’s important, but the heart of the person who gives it.” He pointed to his heart. “The heart of the man who gives a large check is no better and no worse than yours. You’re both giving us what you can afford, and I appreciate the electricity, water, or food your donation will provide us.”

  Charlyce lifted her head, her smile returning. “Thank you for your kind words, Father, but I still don’t know. I’ve been taking a Currus here. I could be spending that money on the kids.”

  “You have to get here somehow, and a minor luxury for a woman spending most of her free time volunteering isn’t outrageous, even by the standards of a priest. You’re not a nun, Charlyce.”

  “I ain’t even Catholic.” She laughed.

  Father McCartney chuckled. “No one’s perfect except our Lord. Just know that all your contributions here are valued.” He glanced at the clock, and his smile faded. “I have to go give someone a call, so I’ll talk to you later.”

  “See you around, Father.” Charlyce waved.

  The priest offered her a final nod before continuing out of the room.

  Charlyce returned to the couch.

  Meaning. That was what her life had lacked before, and now she had more family, friends, and people to pro
tect.

  Thank you, Lord, for giving me this second chance.

  The consul sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The king wanted an answer, and diplomatic dissembling wouldn’t work.

  Damned Drow. Why couldn’t you have just listened? Your arrogance will lead to suffering for all of us, you fools.

  The Light Elf cleared his throat and looked at the image of his King sitting at an ornate desk on Oriceran hanging in the air. “Your Highness, this latest incident concerns me. I was able to cover up the Drow’s previous rabblerousing, but there was no way I was going to be able to do it this time.”

  “Which was why you provided information to the human authorities?” The king’s face remained impassive, but his crossed arms and rigid posture said enough.

  The consul took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I don’t regret any of that, and the Drow’s subsequent actions only proved how dangerous they were. Going after this Brownstone was one thing, but opening far-dimensional portals?” He shook his head. “I suspect every magical being in this region felt what they did.”

  “Laena has gone too far,” the king replied, his face tight. He uncrossed his arms. “She’s pushed well past any acceptable lines with her efforts.”

  The consul nodded. “So how are we to react to these provocations?” He relaxed his fists, having not even realized he’d clenched them.