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

  Trey sighed and looked down. “Did you hear at all about how the Brownstone Agency went after the Council?”

  Victoria nodded, her smile fading. “Yes, it’s not exactly a big secret.”

  He shrugged. “Shorty got killed by some fuckers working for the Council.”

  “My condolences.” The witch sighed. “I hope it was a good death.”

  Trey nodded. “He died saving my life. Don’t know if that shit is good.”

  “It’s always good to save someone else with your last breath.” She locked eyes with him. “I’d encourage you to live up to that sacrifice.”

  “I try to every day.”

  Victoria sighed and turned. “I should get going. If I’m not going to get the bounty for the level threes, there are a few easy pick-ups I can manage while you’re distracted taking those guys in.” She waved. “See you around, Trey.”

  He waved back and headed into the house again. Victoria was right. The only thing he could do for Shorty now was make sure he’d died for a good man.

  I’m gonna keep trying, brother. We at least took out those Council bastards for you, but I’m not gonna forgot, not for one minute of one day, what you did for me, Shorty.

  Chapter Two

  The SUV rumbled through the Mexican scrubland. James grunted. He needed to stop coming down to Mexico only when he had a bounty. He wasn’t much for vacations, but it might be nice to hang out in the country when he wasn’t going to have to beat or kill someone.

  Shit. If it weren’t for Jesse Rae’s, Vegas might be like that for me, too.

  Shay glanced at him from the passenger seat. “Problem?”

  James shook his head. “Nah, just thinking that every time I travel, it’s like one day of relaxing and food and several days of ass-kicking.”

  Shay laughed. “Oh. What, you want to take some time off?

  He shrugged. “It’s not like that. Just getting a little fucking tired of always seeing the worst a place has to offer.”

  “Getting thoughtful in your old age, huh?” Shay grinned.

  James grunted again and shrugged. “Not feeling bad about kicking Council ass, even if it’s just leftover foot soldiers.”

  Shay nodded. “I’m surprised they didn’t just send special forces to finish these guys off.”

  “Senator Johnston said that since the Council cell was in Baja, he preferred for us to handle it.”

  “Fine by me.” Shay smiled. “For me at least, it’s relaxing coming to Mexico ever since we destroyed the cartel.”

  James chuckled, but then his mirth faded. “I got to be honest.”

  She glanced his way. “What are you talking about?”

  “The senator actually asked if I wanted to go with a group of soldiers.” James frowned. “I turned him down.”

  Shay nodded. “No reason to give up money. I’m sure they would have taken some of the reward.”

  “That’s not the reason.”

  “What, then?”

  James’ grip tightened around the wheel, and it creaked under the pressure. “Those Council douchebags have made me lose control a few times. Fuck, you’ve seen it.” He shook his head, his brow knitting in concern. “What happens if I lose control and end up hurting a soldier?”

  Shay shrugged. “Don’t think it’s gonna happen.”

  He glanced her way. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because, yeah, I’ve seen you lose control, but you were already working with other people. Even if last time you ran off by yourself, you’ve gone into top-level ass-kicking mode when I was around you, and the AET.”

  James snorted. “You haven’t seen shit.”

  Shay arched a brow. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “It’s not just the armor and the blade anymore. When I totally lose it, Whispy Doom calls it extended advanced transformation. Not just the full suit and the helmet you saw, but some sort of energy blasts.”

  A light chuckle escaped Shay’s lips. “I was wondering what the hell happened to those weird monsters in the vehicle bay. I ended up there when I was trying to chase you down, and I couldn’t quite figure out how you blew holes through them with the gear you had.” She raised a shoulder. “I don’t see the big deal. It’s nice to have a few surprises in your back pocket in case you run into someone tougher than you expected.”

  James shook his head, taking a moment to check his mirrors. Nothing but dust and rocks on the pathetic path passing for a road. “But the only way I get to advanced or extended advanced mode is by being pissed off. Anger. Hatred. That shit.” He patted his chest, where the unbonded amulet lay underneath his shirt. “And he fucking gets off on it like an eighteen-year-old at his first strip club.”

  Shay snorted. “So?”

  “So? You don’t think that’s a bad thing?”

  “You worried Yoda’s gonna show up and criticize you for going over to the Dark Side or some shit?” Shay rolled her eyes. “This is what you do—you kick ass. Sometimes you get mad and kick more ass. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being pissed off when you kick ass. Shit, it’s not exactly like I’m always calm when I’m killing people.”

  James glanced her way, looking for some sign of deception in her face, but she seemed more annoyed than anything. “But I keep getting more powerful. What if I hurt someone who doesn’t have it coming?”

  “As long as everyone knows the deal, we can manage that. It’s not like the military doesn’t use big-ass bombs just because they’re big-ass bombs. They just make sure none of the friendly guys are near them when they go off.”

  He grunted. “So now I’m a big-ass bomb?”

  Shay laughed. “Basically. Or maybe a Berserker, like in the Norse sagas.”

  James’ mouth twitched. “I’ve read about them. They were famous for not being able to tell their friends from their enemies.”

  “Which was why they sent them where their own guys wouldn’t be.” Shay shook her head. “Look, you’re really overthinking this, and you’re ignoring the basic fucking reality of us living in a dangerous world. You know the best way to achieve peace?”

  He shrugged. “Everyone shares barbeque?”

  Shay burst out laughing. “Hell, no. Peace through superior firepower. You’re not just a big-ass bomb. You’re a nuke, and if we can force peace by nuking some assholes, so be it. Eventually, if they show up with a nuke of their own, maybe we can all agree on something. Until then, keep on doing what you do. Kick ass and take names.”

  James snorted. “Now I’m a fucking nuke. For all I know, someday some asshole from my home planet will show up to arrest me for using this suit illegally according to galactic law or some shit.”

  Shay’s smile faded, and she sighed. “About that…”

  His gaze flicked her way. “You find out something new?”

  She shook her head. “I’m kind of at a dead end. The government guys looking into this thing—you know Projects Ragnarok and Nephilim—might know more, but not that Peyton’s been able to find, and I’ve been scouring my library and other resources and hitting only more dead ends. Barely been able to translate any more of the symbols.” She shrugged. “I’m honestly unsure if we’ll be able to actually track down where you’re from unless I stumble across some random alien birth certificate. Maybe some of the shit Peyton’s girlfriend is involved in might pay off, but I doubt they’ll be releasing anything to the general public. She’s pretty clueless about what he knows, from what he’s told me.”

  James grunted. “Big fucking deal.”

  “Big fucking deal?”

  He nodded. “I might have been born on some planet out there, but I grew up on Earth. My people are on Earth and in America. Everyone I give a shit about lives on Earth.” He shook his head. “It’s not about where you’re born. It’s about how you choose to live your life, and where you choose to call home. I doubt I’ll ever meet some fucker from my home planet, but I don’t care.”

  A soft smile appeared on Shay’s face. “Good,
I was worried there for a second.”

  “Worried?”

  She nodded. “I have to go on that tomb raid with Lily soon, and I didn’t want to leave you if you were going to be all mopey and shit.”

  James snorted. “I’m never mopey and shit.”

  Shay snickered. “’Mopey and shit’ is like your default setting.” She winked. “But I make all that go away.” She pointed to the GPS readout on the front console screen. “Looks like we’re already there. Let’s finish off these assholes and go back to the hotel where I can make sure you’re extra non-mopey…even if I’m gonna end up a little sore.”

  James grinned. “Little motivation never hurt.”

  Time to go all nuclear.

  They parked several hundred yards away from the unassuming adobe house at the end of the road. Split-wood fencing sectioned off dried and cracked ground supporting only a few plants here and there. Someone might have once tried to raise some cattle there, only to find out they’d made a horrible mistake.

  Shay stepped out of the SUV. James followed a few seconds later.

  “Bond with Whispy Doom,” Shay called.

  James grunted. “I don’t need him for this shit. These guys would barely be threes if they weren’t with the Council.”

  Shay shook her head. “If you’re so worried about that thing, you need to use it more, not less. Make sure it knows who’s in charge.” Shay checked the magazine in her 9mm. “I’ve had plenty of unstable artifacts that aren’t half as useful.”

  Yeah, guess she’s right. He’s gonna be an annoying bitch though. Getting mouthier every day.

  James nodded and reached under his shirt to yank off the metal separator keeping the amulet from touching his skin. A second later, he hissed as pain shot from his chest, the amulet sinking into his flesh.

  Initiation, the amulet sent into his mind.

  Naptime is over, James thought back. Time to do what we do best.

  Kill the enemy. Adapt. Grow stronger.

  James grunted. Yeah, that about sums it up. He jogged toward the ranch house.

  Shay hurried after him. “I thought we were going to hit them with a few drones first. That was what you told me earlier.”

  “Fuck it. You wanted me to use the damned amulet, I’m using the damned amulet.” James pulled out his .45. “We’ve fought enough of these Council pieces of shit that Whispy Doom’s adapted to most anything they’ve got.”

  Find stronger enemies. Kill, adapt, and grow stronger for maximum potential. Extended advanced mode is not maximum potential.

  Yeah, yeah. I’ll just keep getting pissier until I blow up a city. I get it. That would make you happy, wouldn’t it, you fucking sadist?

  Kill stronger enemies for maximum potential. Environment irrelevant.

  James snorted. Every time he used the amulet he understood it more, or maybe Whispy Doom was figuring out how to communicate with him more clearly. He’d had the damned thing his entire life, and it unnerved him to think about what it might have been saying all those years.

  Someone threw open the front door of the ranch house, and two men with wands filed out.

  James slowed his jog, Shay right behind.

  “I’m James Brownstone. I’m working a continuing class-six organizational bounty on the Council, dead or alive. You assholes can surrender right now and take a nice trip, or you can fucking die right here. I don’t really give a shit what you choose. I get paid either way.”

  One of the wizards snorted. “The Council lives. He Who Hunts lives.”

  James let out a low growl. He hated it when assholes were right.

  Find stronger enemy. Engage stronger enemy for advanced adaptation potential.

  “Yeah, your last big tough guy from the Council? It’s been a few weeks now, and I haven’t seen him at any place I’ve raided, nor any of the military guys.” James chuckled. “Sounds like a pussy who doesn’t want to fight. And that’s assuming he didn’t crawl off to bleed to death somewhere.”

  Shay edged toward a small outhouse for cover. More wizards stepped out of the house until ten men stood there. That was far more than the five James had been told would be present.

  Guess it’s a two-for-one bounty today.

  James shook his head. “Last chance—”

  A blindingly white ball of blue-white fire blasted from one of the wands, but James stood firm. The blast crashed into him, the flames burning through his shabby gray coat in an instant. The smell of burnt polyester and cotton filled his nostrils. Other than a slight sting and redness on his chest, no one would even know he’d been hit by a magical fireball.

  The wizards’ eyes widened and they all spread out, bringing up their wands. They held their breaths, aiming at him, but none daring to break away in a run or say anything else.

  Find stronger enemies, Whispy demanded. Adaptation near maximum for existing attacks. Inefficient use of time.

  I get paid for this shit.

  Shay moved in the corner of James’ eye. She flattened herself against the outhouse. She’d holstered her pistol and pulled out an adamantine knife.

  Good plan. With so many wizards, they’re gonna have shielding magic.

  James holstered his pistol and yanked out the adamantine knife Shay had lent him.

  Need to get my own magic blade. Can’t always borrow Shay’s shit.

  Additional external weapons unnecessary, Whispy Doom sent. Generate sufficient power for advanced mode or extended advanced mode.

  James snickered. Apparently, his amulet was jealous.

  I don’t need advanced mode for these assholes. That’s like sending a Superbowl team after some AA high school team. Where’s the fun in that? Only using you because Shay insisted, otherwise you’d be still asleep.

  Female human has maximized tactical possibilities with suggestion.

  James snorted. The last thing he needed was Whispy Doom, Alison, and Shay ganging up on him. Maybe he’d been wrong, and Whispy was female. Just what he needed, a woman who could get directly into his head.

  Fuck. Need to concentrate. Shut your mo…shut up.

  James pointed his knife at the pack of wizards. “That all you got? I fucking personally killed members of the Council, assholes. You really think your weak-ass magic would work on me? Should have taken me up on my surrender offer.”

  He charged straight toward them. A rainbow of death blasted toward him. Fire. Ice. Electricity. Acid.

  Now what the fuck is that purple shit?

  Adaptation near maximum for existing attack.

  I get that it doesn’t hurt much, but… You know what? Forget it.

  He grunted as the magic struck him, shredding his jacket, shirt, and pants but accomplishing little more than inflicting a few minor burns and cuts. He continued charging straight at the wizards as they tried to rain death down on him. The only obstacle at this point was the thick and blinding cloud of dust thrown up by all the explosions.

  Don’t need to see to stab, assholes.

  A second later, his theory became reality as his knife pierced the heart of a wizard. The man screamed, and James yanked the blade out. He spun toward the nearest shadow and slashed at the neck. The half-decapitated man fell to the ground gurgling, his blood spraying all over his killer and the ground. Two other screams from James’ left confirmed Shay had closed on the enemy while they were distracted.

  The dust settled from the barrages, and more targets came into view. Shay spun, slashed, and kicked through the enemy’s flank, even cutting through a man’s wand. James grunted and leapt toward his next closest target, slamming the knife into the man’s head. He wasn’t sure if the wizards weren’t using defensive magic or if they were and the gnome-crafted knife was piercing it.

  He didn’t have time to ask. It’d taken them hours to drive there, but it’d taken less than a minute to kill every wizard.

  Find stronger enemies, Whispy Doom insisted. Lack of use of advanced and additional modes will lead to tactical inefficiency.


  Yeah, yeah, practice like I play. I know, Coach.

  Coach is incorrect designation.

  What is the correct designation, then? Whispy Doom?

  Most efficient designation for now.

  James smirked as he surveyed the bodies. “Too many to fit in the back. Glad I brought a head bag.”

  Shay laughed. “You know even when I was a professional killer, I never said shit like, ‘Glad I brought a head bag.’”

  He shrugged. “Just trying to be practical.”

  They were only an hour out from the city now. They could turn the heads in for bounty credit, then drive to an airport and return home.

  James frowned, not looking forward to a flight—even a short one.

  Fucking planes. I need to find some portal wizard to follow me around.

  Shay stared out the window, a far-off look in her eye. “You ever try asking?”

  “Huh? Asking what?”

  She looked James’ way. “Before you couldn’t communicate with Whispy Doom, but now, from what you’ve told me, you can have a decent conversation.”

  He snorted. “A decent conversation? He—or maybe she, I don’t know—just tells me to kill stronger people to adapt and get pissed so I can go into more advanced modes. How is that a decent conversation? It’s like having the Devil always whispering in your ear and telling you to sin.”

  Shay rolled her eyes. “The point is that it’s self-aware and intelligent. It might have all the answers you need. I know you said you don’t care, but it wouldn’t hurt.”

  Oh, is that what this is about?

  James shrugged. “I already have.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “I tried asking him about a week after the Council showdown. About my planet and shit.”

  “And?”

  James snorted. “He doesn’t know a lot. Just kept yammering on about how his primary directive is to strengthen me, and his secondary directive will unlock once I’ve achieved ‘sufficient advancement.’” He grunted. “Doesn’t know shit about where I came from, at least that he’ll admit, just says he adapted my DNA for ‘better integration into local conditions. Complained about my ‘excessive autonomy leading to tactical inefficiency.’”