Karma Is A Bitch: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 12) Read online

  Karma Is A Bitch

  The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone™ Book Twelve

  Michael Anderle

  Karma Is A Bitch (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

  A Michael Anderle Production

  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, October 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

  The Karma Is A Bitch Team

  Special Thanks

  to Mike Ross

  for BBQ Consulting

  Jessie Rae’s BBQ - Las Vegas, NV

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  James Caplan

  Misty Roa

  Kelly O’Donnell

  John Ashmore

  Danika Fedeli

  Angel LaVey

  Nicole Emens

  Peter Manis

  Keith Verret

  Larry Omans

  Daniel Weigert

  Micky Cocker

  Paul Westman

  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.

  Chapter One

  The chaos entity who went by He Who Hunts floated in a darkened chamber surrounded by glowing windows in the air, each a magical screen relaying images and sensations from the Brownstone team’s assault on the Council base. He watched as summoned monsters and wizards fell to bullets, grenades, rockets, and even swords.

  The sight of so much death and havoc filled him with something humans might refer to as joy. Maybe satisfaction.

  The foolish government wizards and witches of the Paranormal Defense Agency believed they had shielded the entire facility, but his magic could pierce their feeble attempts. He was beyond them. He was beyond even the other members of the Council. Even so, scrying into the past was draining him, but it was useful to evaluate the people who had defeated his allies.

  In truth, He Who Hunts could have drawn off the dark power of other dimensions to open a portal and reinforce the Council as Brownstone and his allies slaughtered them, but he didn’t care. The Council had served its purpose. He had used them to gather the key artifacts needed to pierce reality and delve deeper into darker and more chaotic realms. With a few more years of effort, he’d be able to connect them directly to Earth and Oriceran. A wonderful age would await.

  Earth would come first. Understanding of magic remained shallower in the Earth nations and societies. His plan could proceed before they could reverse it. Once Earth fell, repeating the process on Oriceran would be trivial despite their greater capability for sorcery.

  He Who Hunts flicked a tendril of red mist against one of the magical screens, which shimmered and changed. An armored Brownstone battled soul-drinkers, the battle ending with the bounty hunter blasting green beams that blew holes through the monsters with ease.

  The limitations of his scrying magic summoned the first few sparks of frustration in He Who Hunts. When the Council had checked into Brownstone, they’d heard little of him using abilities such as the ones displayed in these images, which meant the bounty hunter had been holding back for some reason. The reasons for that would be critical to evaluating how to deal with the man.

  Considering the level of injury and death the Council had wreaked upon the military and other bounty hunters, Brownstone would probably have thought it necessary to use his true abilities. If anything, it made less sense for him to do that given that he’d brought along so many weaker men than himself. Even if they had been well-equipped and trained, they’d been seriously injured. One of his men had even been killed.

  No. Brownstone wouldn’t hold back out of contempt for the Council’s power. Something else had to be motivating him.

  Fear. That was the most likely explanation. Brownstone feared his true abilities, which meant they relied on a source he couldn’t control or they required a cost he didn’t want to pay. There were countless types of dangerous and yet powerful magics that could be behind the bounty hunter’s power.

  He Who Hunts didn’t care about the source. He only cared about gaining a new and powerful tool.

  The magical screens vanished and He Who Hunts floated toward the door, passing over piles of dead bodies lying on the ground. Most lacked their heads, and their bodies were withered and cracked. Several had holes in their hearts surrounded by blackened flesh. All had fed him.

  The creature glided over to a small glass case, and with a flick of his mist tendril, the lid flipped open. A glowing red crystal lay inside, one of the few artifacts that had survived the attention of both the government forces and Brownstone. Most of the other artifacts he’d already fed on, using their energy to strengthen himself even at the cost of their destruction.

  The losses weren’t important. His goals only required his growing strength, not ephemeral connections to weak mortals who lacked any true power. The situation was far different from his first few weak years in this dimension.

  The crystal presented a rare and useful opportunity; a tool he could use for the complete corruption of James Brownstone. He Who Hunts would only be able to use the crystal once, but when he controlled the other man, he’d be worth armies of the pathetic wizards and Zain fodder. Unleashing Brownstone upon an unsuspecting city would be glorious to behold.

  Such death. Such panic. Such chaos.

  He Who Hunts glowed brightly for a few seconds at the thought.

  A fool destroyed his powerful enemies. An intelligent creature turned his enemies to his own use and made a mockery of them. Whatever fear
Brownstone felt that kept him from always using his true power could be exploited by the red crystal. The man would become a tool to spread chaos and weaken the feeble walls that protected the pathetic dimension holding Earth and Oriceran.

  Even so many weeks after the incident, He Who Hunts’ spell could sense the rage and anger spilling from Brownstone as he finished off his enemies. The strange armor he wore didn’t taste like any magic He Who Hunts knew, but it was clear that negative emotions were critical to its use. That would make the bounty hunter vulnerable to the power of the red crystal. Vulnerable to corruption.

  Brownstone had even done He Who Hunts a favor by extinguishing the Council. Their goals had been myopic. Control? Influence? What a laughable notion. There was no true control, only chaos waiting for its chance.

  There was a light knock on the door.

  “Enter,” He Who Hunts hissed in his raspy voice. Every word of normal speech pained him, but some things were necessary to work with lesser beings.

  A dozen robed wizards filed into the room. The Council had few forces left, but they could be of use.

  One of the wizards bowed over an arm. “We’ve come as summoned, Master.”

  He Who Hunts floated over toward the man. He didn’t bother with a robe, appearing to them to be nothing more than a swirling mass of red mist and glowing red eyes. Tendrils appeared and disappeared as needed.

  “The governments of many nations and their allies have wounded the Council.” He Who Hunts floated upward. “Some who claimed loyalty to our great cause have fled. I ask you, are you loyal?”

  The wizard stood upright. “We’re all loyal. We will not abandon the Council. We’ll hunt others if you ask it of us, Master.”

  The other wizards nodded their agreement.

  “Are you willing to sacrifice for the Council?” He Who Hunts asked.

  “Yes, Master.”

  He Who Hunts glided until he was mere inches from the man, the scorching heat of his mist making the man twitch. “What would you sacrifice?”

  “E-everything, master.”

  He Who Hunts floated back, several tendrils growing from his body. “A good final answer.”

  “Final answer?”

  The door slammed shut behind the wizards. They all exchanged glances, fear appearing on their faces.

  He Who Hunts rose toward the ceiling, his tendrils floating and twitching. A burning scarlet mist condensed from the air. The lids of four boxes positioned in the cardinal directions within the room blew off, more mist flowing out from the remnants of the artifacts inside.

  The wizards turned and rushed for the closed door. The first few to reach it pounded on it.

  The mist thickened and the wizards fell to the ground, screaming and clawing at their ears and mouths. Their bodies twisted and contorted. Living gray stone spread over one man. Another grew more legs and a dark carapace.

  Each mutation was distinct in its own way. One wizard screamed as half his body tore away and regenerated seconds later, leaving two full men where one had once been. Then four. Then eight.

  He Who Hunts surveyed the monsters below him as the screaming continued. He’d changed them and would rule their hearts and minds. Their lives would be limited to weeks, but it didn’t matter. They only needed to live long enough to execute his current plan to capture his true target.

  “You will be the key, Brownstone,” he hissed. “You will become mine. You will unlock chaos.”

  Motherfucker!

  Trey ducked as a bullet shattered the window he’d been looking through. That was what he got for taking on the targets in their home. There was just something about Vegas bounties in houses. They went south more often than in LA. Maybe it was just that he and the rest of the guys didn’t know Vegas as well as their home city.

  Damn, that was close.

  “Motherfucker,” he shouted, “it should be a crime to damage a face as handsome as this one.”

  Lachlan snorted and reloaded his pistol. “I swear every time we go after twins, they be way fucking harder than normal bounties. You think there is some magic shit to being a twin?” He spun and unloaded several rounds through the wall before jumping away.

  “I don’t really give a fuck.” Trey pulled out a flashbang. The criminals had shot out the window, which meant he could now give them a little present. “Just need to distract these fuckers long enough for Max and Isaiah to surprise their asses.” He gritted his teeth. “Give me some cover on three, two, one…”

  Lachlan fired through the wall again and rolled out of the way to avoid the rifle bullets ripping through it from the opposite direction.

  Trey took his chance and hurled the flashbang through the shattered remains of the window. A pop and flash preceded the loud groans of the twin brothers inside, both level threes. A few seconds later the front door crashed open, a victim of Isaiah’s foot.

  Lachlan shot up to aim through the window. Trey followed suit.

  Isaiah and Max tackled the men inside, knocking the criminals and their guns to the floor.

  “Stay here,” Trey shouted to Lachlan as he sprinted around the corner.

  By the time he’d run around the house and into the front room, Max and Isaiah already had the bounties zip-tied and face-down.

  “Good job.” Trey marched over to the bounties and shook his head. “You’re lucky we’re the Brownstone Agency, so we ain’t gonna beat your asses despite you trying to kill us.”

  A soft feminine chuckle came from the front door.

  Trey spun, his weapon up. A beautiful pale redhead in an Armani suit stood right outside the house, a thin golden wand hanging loosely from her hand.

  Victoria Stone. It’d been a while since he’d last run into the witch.

  Isaiah and Max brought up their guns, but Trey waved them off as he holstered his weapon.

  “It’s cool. She ain’t here to save these motherfuckers.”

  Victoria grinned. “How can you be so sure?”

  Trey grinned back. “Because you already would have fried our asses, and I doubt you’re wasting time working for dumbass motherfuckers like these two bitches.”

  She laughed. “That’s accurate enough. I actually came to grab them, but you damn Brownstone boys are just too fast.”

  Trey frowned. “Grab them? What? You a cop now?”

  Victoria shook her head. “I decided to take up bounty hunting.” She holstered her wand inside her jacket and started walking away. “See you.”

  Trey turned and nodded to Max. “You get them boys ready. I’ll be right back.” He jogged after the witch.

  Lachlan turned the corner and eyed her with confusion but continued into the house without saying anything.

  Victoria leaned against the side of the house, arms crossed and lips pursed, which highlighted her bright red lipstick.

  Trey gestured toward the front door. “We aren’t gonna have a problem, are we? We grabbed those boys fair and square.”

  She shook her head. “No, I have no interest in poaching your captures.”

  “I haven’t even heard that you were in the hunt scene, and we try to keep an ear to the ground.”

  Victoria shrugged. “I’ve been out of town. After that incident with Johns I thought it might be better to avoid Vegas for a while, but it’s my home, so I decided to come back.” She looked Trey up and down with a slight frown and pointed to an anti-magic deflector hanging around his neck. “Why bring something like that for two common hitmen?”

  Trey snorted. “You shitting me? Johns was only a level three, and he had this hot-ass witch guarding him.” He smirked. “You never know what you’re gonna run into on a bounty hunt, so we like to be more careful nowadays.”

  Victoria chuckled. “Awfully expensive way to be careful.” She shrugged and pushed off the wall. “You’re certainly still looking good. Maybe a little bit more muscular than last time.”

  “That’s probably just the bulletproof vest.”

  She laughed. “Just saying… I’m
a woman who knows what she wants, and I think it was a mistake that I didn’t connect with you after our last run-in. You seem like a very capable and interesting man.”

  What the fuck? Am I like catnip to witches?

  Trey sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Now, straight-up, Victoria, you’re fucking fine. No man could deny that, but…”

  Victoria arched an eyebrow. “But?”

  “I’m kind of seeing someone right now, and I’m a one-witch kind of man.”

  The corners of Victoria’s mouth turned up in a smile. “She’s a witch?”

  Trey nodded. “Yeah. Potions witch.”

  Shit. Do I even really have anything with Zoe? I mean, we slept together, but she ain’t been wanting to see me much the last couple of weeks, always saying she’s busy.

  Maybe Zoe ain’t want nothing more than she got.

  Trey wanted to tell himself he was the same, but that would be a lie, and he knew it. He couldn’t get the potions witch out of his mind, even if he had a beautiful witch standing right in front of him asking him out.

  Victoria smiled. “I’m not surprised. You’re brave and handsome, and there’s a certain…quality about you.”

  “Quality?”

  “I don’t know. Just call it witch’s intuition. I think you’ll only grow to be a more impressive man.” She shrugged. “Something different than your other friend I ran into that day.” She nodded toward the house. “I didn’t see him in there. He in LA right now?”