The Unbelievable Mr Brownstone Omnibus 3 Read online

  The woman’s image twisted for a moment, and an out-of-focus image of an armored James in extended advanced mode, complete with an arm blade and featureless helmet, replaced her.

  Shay’s stomach tightened.

  No! There’s no way she knows James is an alien.

  “Are you going to deny this is what he truly is?” The image reset to the blurry vision of the woman. “A monster who pretends to be a man?”

  “You’re the one,” Shay snarled through gritted teeth. “You’re the one who sent the mercenaries after him. You’re the one who fucked with Customs somehow. Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?”

  “I did what I had to do.” The woman sighed. “And you don’t need to know who I am, but I find myself frustrated that now that he’s used his armor, no one sees the monster Brownstone is. You’ve seen it yourself, yet you still are at his side.” She shook her head. “Ridiculous.”

  Shay took a deep breath. The woman didn’t sound like someone he’d fought in the past, and her constant insistence about how dangerous he was pointed to something other than merely a concerned government official.

  If I figured out that James isn’t human, could somebody else have, too? Who is she? Someone from Project Ragnarok or Project Nephilim? Why bother with all this complicated bullshit instead of sending black ops types after him?

  Maybe she’s afraid of pushing James too far, which means she doesn’t have all of the government on her side. I can use that against her. I have to try to gather as much information as I can so we can fight back.

  Shay shrugged. “If you know so much and you can manipulate government officials, why bother with any of this? If you think James is a unique threat, why not go tell the government bastards who have fucked with him in the past and set them after him?”

  The woman gave a dark chuckle. “We all have our constraints, Miz Carson. I’m trying to help you see the danger associated with a creature like James Brownstone.”

  Damn it. She definitely knows what he is. The way she’s talking doesn’t make sense otherwise.

  Shay took several deep breaths. “James has proven himself to me a lot of times. He’s also proven himself to everyone else. Without James Brownstone’s efforts, the Council would have continued to slaughter innocent people. If you think he’s some sort of monster, explain that. He didn’t need the money.”

  The woman sighed. “It’s like the scorpion and the tortoise, Miz Carson.”

  “Like the fable?” Shay snorted. “Give me a fucking break. Real life doesn’t work that way.”

  “I disagree. It works out that way far too often.” The woman cut through the air with her hand. “No, you think you understand what he is, but you don’t. Eventually, he’ll turn on you, just as the scorpion stung that tortoise in the middle of the river, causing them both to die. Why? Because it’s his nature.”

  “Bullshit. Nothing but old-school fear.” Shay shook her head. “People fear what they don’t understand. If thousands of years of human history didn’t teach us that, then the last twenty years of Earth and Oriceran history have. I don’t know what you think James’ true nature is, but he’s no fucking scorpion. He’s a bounty hunter, not a criminal. He could have set himself up easily.”

  A dark laugh erupted from the blurry woman. “Can you say that without reservation? Can you say that you’ve never seen a dangerous darkness that made you question him for at least a second?”

  “I’m no angel, and I’m not perfect.” Shay shrugged. “You just got done saying I was a piece of shit, remember? Do you expect me to hate on James for not being an angel? Spare me!”

  “Maybe you’re not an angel, but you’re not a demon either.” The woman pointed at Shay. “If you continue to associate with Brownstone, you’ll become a handmaiden of death. Your past as a killer will pale in comparison.”

  Shay laughed. “Really? ‘Handmaiden of death?’ I kind of like the title.” She unsheathed her sword. “And if you’re here trying to get into my head, that means whatever trap you set here might not work. No, you’re convinced it’s not gonna work. I don’t know what kind of magic you used to lure the Wendigo here, but you know James well enough to know he might win.” She shook her head. “No. More than that. You think he is gonna win.” She marched forward. “Ha. All your little plans are going up in smoke, aren’t they?”

  The blurry woman sighed. “You don’t understand. I wish I could tell you more, so you’d understand.”

  “Oh, I understand all too well. Whatever dark secrets you think you know about James, I’ve known for a while, and I don’t care. Handmaiden of death? You’re damned right. I’ll kill anyone who even thinks about fucking with him, and it sounds a lot like you’re planning to fuck with me.” Shay pointed her sword at the woman. “On the off chance he doesn’t win against the Wendigo, you should know that no matter where you go or where you hide, I’ll devote the rest of my life to finding you and cutting your head off with this sword.”

  “It sounds like we’re done here, Miz Carson.”

  “Yeah. I think so.” Shay stabbed at the woman. Her sword passed right through.

  The woman snorted. “I told you that I’m not really here.”

  “I don’t have any reason to believe a single thing you’ve said.” Shay sheathed her sword. “And I thought it was a good chance to protect James. I could have gotten lucky and taken out a dangerous threat.”

  “The tortoise shouldn’t protect the scorpion,” the woman replied. “Whatever feelings you think you’re experiencing involving that creature, you should know he can’t reciprocate them. You’re being used; manipulated by a monster who will kill you. I can only hope you see the light before it’s too late. You’re too smart a woman to betray your own planet.”

  The image vanished.

  Shay stared for a moment, wondering if the woman would come back. No doubt filtered into her mind. The woman was right. James wasn’t what he appeared. Maybe he was a monster.

  She didn’t care. He was her monster, and she loved him.

  You better run far, far away, bitch.

  18

  The wind weakened and the snowfall lightened, but it was still hard to see more than a few yards.

  James growled.

  Tired of playing hide and go seek in this frozen wasteland.

  He let out a loud bellow and stabbed his blade into the wall of the tank. The sharp blade pierced the metal with ease, an echoing scraping sound accompanying it. He grunted, surprised, and sliced a hole with little effort. With the help of a boot, he kicked the perforated metal to the floor of the storage tank.

  A faint acrid odor escaped the hole as the thud of the metal echoed in the dark tank. A moment later a bright orb of white light appeared near the top, illuminating the entire floor. James squinted and raised his blade.

  A tall, pale man in a dark robe, his face covered with glyph scars, stood on the other side of the tank, a brown wand in hand and a small golden box sitting next to him.

  James had wanted the Wendigo, and it had led him here. A trap? Maybe. He didn’t care. If he couldn’t kill the Wendigo, he’d kill the murderous head of the cult standing in front of him.

  “I thought I sensed something pass my barrier.” The wizard let out a long sigh. “I suppose I should have expected this. How many monsters will be sent against us today?”

  Engage and kill enemy, Whispy all but shouted, his thoughts tinged with glee. Adaptation potential high.

  James glanced around the tank. The emptiness made it easy to search. The wizard and his box were the only contents. A ten-foot-tall Wendigo would have been easy to spot.

  Can it just turn invisible?

  “Not a monster, asshole, just a bounty hunter,” James growled. “James Brownstone. I was looking for the Wendigo to kill it, but I was looking for you first, so I might as well kill you right now.”

  “Ah, the famous James Brownstone.” The wizard bowed with a flourish. “I am Darian. I lead the Brotherhood of Silence.”

  “You
mean your group of psychopaths who think they are going to become greater than God?” James narrowed his eyes. “How many people have you murdered to fuel your twisted-ass magic?”

  He could see himself decapitating the wizard in his mind. His hands and arms twitched with the desire.

  Darian smiled and shrugged. “Is it so wrong to explore the empowerment of the individual? We shouldn’t chain ourselves to foolish, outmoded morality that weakens us. Don’t you think our creator would want us to greet him as equals?”

  James grunted. “No, and it doesn’t matter, because whatever weird-ass human sacrifice you’re practicing isn’t going to get you that kind of power. You assholes can’t even handle one Wendigo. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer group of assholes. My only regret is that I wasn’t the one to kill you all.”

  Darian’s mouth curled into a smile. “Ah, yes, the Wendigo.” He clucked his tongue. “But you’re not the type of man who would summon a creature like that to aid you. Interesting. I suspected something planned, but now that I see our current foe, that means there was an unfortunate confluence of events this day.”

  What the fuck is wrong with this asshole?

  Engage the enemy, Whispy suggested. Kill the enemy.

  James kept flexing and stretching out his clawed hand. He needed to bury that blade in an enemy soon.

  “You don’t even give a fuck, do you?” James snorted. “You twisted piece of shit.”

  “About what? The dead men?” Darian shook his head. “The strong survive, the weak perish. That’s life. That’s the natural order set down by the Creator. We only follow it to its logical conclusion. A conscience is a lie. A distraction.”

  James raised his blade. “Well, if that’s the case, maybe we should test which of us is strong and which is weak? I’ll give you one chance to surrender. If you don’t take it, I will kill you. I want to already.”

  Darian raised his wand. “We’re not so different, James.”

  “Don’t fucking call me ‘James,’” the bounty hunter snarled. “You kill innocent people just to make yourself stronger. I don’t fucking do that.”

  The wizard shrugged. “I’m only noting that, as we both know, one makes their own morality through strength. The weak are sacrificed to improve the strong, just as you’ve sacrificed so many throughout your career. You say it doesn’t matter because they weren’t innocent, but the men you’ve killed…did they have any chance of victory? It’s my understanding that you killed hundreds of Harriken. Even if they were criminals, you were nothing more than a lion among the herd.”

  James glared at Darian. “Give it up, fucker. I’ve had weird-ass Oriceran monsters in my head. Nothing you can say will fuck me up.”

  Irritation flowed from Whispy, whether from his lack of violence or with Darian, James didn’t know. He also didn’t care. His anger seemed to be growing by the second. It wasn’t the out-of-control explosions of rage he’d dealt with in the past, but it was building that way, as if the amulet itself wouldn’t let it fade. If he were more clearheaded, he might have bothered to ask.

  “You don’t understand.” Darian sighed. “I’m not trying to demean you. I’m trying to praise you. Can’t we come to some sort of understanding? You are a man worthy of respect, so I’m granting it to you.”

  “Drop the wand and surrender.” James pointed his blade at the wizard. “Or you fucking die. Simple as that, asshole.”

  Darian pointed the wand. “It’s unfortunate that your mind is so inflexible. True strength includes mental strength. Goodbye, Mr. Brownstone.”

  A red bolt blasted from the wand and struck James. He grimaced as a brief sensation of burning shot through his body in a wave, but his armor remained untouched; not even a slight scorch.

  Near maximum adaptation achieved. Downgrading adaptation potential. Kill current enemy and engage and kill next enemy.

  James grunted. “Is that all you got? You didn’t take me down with the first shot. Now you die.”

  Darian shuddered, a rapturous look passing over his face. “Glorious. You are what the stories say.”

  “I’m gonna stab this blade through your heart.” James lifted his arm.

  The anger deluged him now, circulating and feeding itself, threatening to boil into an explosion of feeling.

  The strange juxtaposition of Whispy’s happiness intertwined with the boiling cauldron of rage.

  Can think straighter than last time I was using a blade, but I’m still fucking pissed off. I want to fucking cut that guy to pieces. Want it badly, and I can’t even fucking figure out… You’re doing this, aren’t you? Keeping me pissed.

  Kill the enemy, Whispy demanded. Achieve primary directive.

  James ground his teeth and glared at Darian.

  Two more red bolts shot from the wand, this time striking James in the head. He hissed and stumbled back, some pain in his eyes, but the burning wave died before it could spread.

  “I don’t think you understand how impressive what you’re doing is,” Darian murmured. “These are not mere elemental forces. They are, for want of a better description, anti-life. Even if you can survive such a blow, it should weaken you severely, but you don’t even seem bothered. It’s as if you’re all but immune to my magic.”

  The brief thought of what might have happened had James encountered Darian before the Wendigo floated into his mind, but the desire to stab the bastard smothered it. It was time to give Whispy what he wanted.

  James took a thunderous step forward, the impact of his boot echoing in the tank. Another step followed.

  Darian frowned. “Alas. How wasteful. So be it, James Brownstone.”

  A shadowy nimbus formed around the tip of the wand. It swallowed the nearby light and built in intensity over several seconds as James made his ponderous approach to the wizard.

  A dark sphere blasted from the wand and struck the bounty hunter in the chest, sending him flying back. He slammed against a wall, an icy sensation spreading through his veins. Pain followed.

  James hissed and collapsed to one knee. His blade scraped the cold metal floor of the tank.

  Yes. Whispy’s pleasure blasted into James’ mind. New adaptation in progress.

  James grunted and stood. The blast left a hole in his armor, jagged edges surrounding it. Tingling and numbness spread through his muscles, but he stalked toward the wizard again, intent on his death.

  Darian’s brow lifted. “Now I am truly impressed. Most would have died from a single blast. I don’t understand. You’re obviously using some sort of artifact, but I can’t sense its magic.”

  Whispy’s joy was infectious.

  Kill the enemy. Kill the enemy. Kill the enemy.

  “Who said anything about magic, fucker?” James rumbled. “I’m gonna fucking kill you. Whoever that Wendigo didn’t kill, I’ll kill.”

  Darian snorted. “You bore me, Brownstone. I was a fool to not kill you from the beginning.”

  Another shadow ball grew at the tip of the wand as the wizard glared at him.

  James did his best to ignore the numbness and agony suffusing his body. He marched toward Darian, the amulet beaming with joy, and his mind locked on a singular goal: killing the smug motherfucker in front of him.

  Darian fired at James again. Pain flared from the blast point, but this time the magic didn’t launch him into the air. He put another foot forward. So close.

  The wizard frowned, then murmured something under his breath and flicked his wand. Another red bolt shot out, followed by a tiny shadow sphere.

  James kept moving as the wizard alternated his attacks.

  Effective maximum adaptation achieved, Whispy announced. Kill the enemy.

  James’ vision wavered. The new attack merely stung, and his armor had already started to seal the hole created by the first shadow attack, but the chilling pain from before had spread to every part of his body. Moving his muscles required all his concentration.

  Still, he marched forward.

  Darian’s smirk d
isappeared, and he raised his wand again. A shadowy curtain spread from the tool on both sides and extended to the ceiling.

  “I don’t know how you’re still alive, Brownstone, but I can wait you out.” Darian nodded and gave a nervous laugh. “The Wendigo will come. You’re already wounded, and it can finish you off for me.”

  James stomped closer until he was only a yard from Darian, separated only by the curtain. “You know what I realized a long time ago?” His voice was more growl than words at this point. “A lot of you magic-wielding fucks use the same kind of energy for your different kinds of spells.”

  Darian narrowed his eyes. “You think that’s some sort of brilliant insight?” He snorted. “Your mind lags behind your physical prowess, Brownstone.”

  “You don’t get it.” James stepped forward and brought back his blade-tipped arm. “Adapt to one kind of energy in an attack, adapt to it in defense.”

  “Spare your petty threats. Now, be a good bounty hunter and d—”

  James shoved the blade through the shadow wall and pierced Darian’s heart. The bounty hunter slashed a few times at the defensive spell until he’d cleared most of the visible energy near him.

  With a low, cold growl, he stabbed the wizard with wild abandon, the man’s blood spraying all over James’ armor and face. After a moment, he clawed at the wizard with the other hand, tearing into his robe and chest.

  The anger swelled in him, and he needed an outlet. A target.

  He wasn’t sure how long he sliced, diced, and ripped the man. The attack seemed like it’d just started, but a dismembered and shredded corpse now lay in front of him, something far more badly mauled than anything the Wendigo had left behind.

  Shock and regret didn’t stop the attack. He felt only the freezing agony pulsing through his whole body.

  Severe cellular damage, Whispy reported. Maintaining advanced mode limiting cellular regeneration. Recommend reversion and quiescence for maximum regeneration.

  No. This shit isn’t over yet.

  Recommend external healing to preserve tactical effectiveness.

  James pulled himself away from the dead wizard, barely noticing the shadow wall had vanished or that the light spell remained. He grabbed a healing potion from his belt and yanked the stopper off.