Monster Hunter Legion-eARC (7 page)

“You think something’s up?” Nate asked. He had a nasty black eye and a purple lump on his head from yesterday.

“I’m looking for a pattern. Myers was worried the last time we talked, enough that his superiors were getting sick of him. If he was bugging them enough to get himself demoted out of their hair, then something must be up. But play it careful, there might be some other forces at play…” Earl trailed off, worried. “Keep it professional. Not everybody here likes us. We’re more successful than they are. Jealousy breeds contention.”

“And don’t forget we’re also the reason all the other US Hunters got put out of business for a while too,” Julie muttered. The aftermath of MHI’s hundredth-anniversary Christmas party and Ray Shackleford’s craziness had gotten private Monster Hunting banned in the US for several years. “It’s easy to hold a grudge against the people that got your job declared illegal.”

“I’m on good terms with the old school. I’ll take the Russians and the Japanese. Julie…”

“I’ll talk to Pierre Darne,” Julie volunteered. “I really should anyway.”

“Call Albert in, too. I think he speaks Chinese. Their team seems okay, but their government-provided translator is a prick. Oh, yeah, and Priest knows the South Africans. I think he’s talking to them now. And, Z…” Earl faced me.

“Who do you want me to schmooze?”

“Nobody you might piss off. I didn’t hire you for your diplomacy, and you tend to say things you shouldn’t, so just play it cool.”

“I do okay—”

Earl cut me off. “I’ve got one word to sum it up for you…gnomes.”

Crap. He had me there.

We broke up and moved off in different directions to mingle. I had no idea what Earl was concerned about. I could be social with the best of them. After all, these were fellow Monster Hunters, men and women with a higher, nobler calling. Defenders of the innocent, protectors of the good. Like Agent Stark had said, this was a new era of cooperation. This should be a piece of cake.

And then the crowd parted and I was standing in front of three men from Paranormal Tactical, and judging from the scrapes and Band-Aids, they had been at dinner last night. All three of them gave me withering death glares. Earl had wanted discretion, I really didn’t want to go back to jail, and I was already paying for that frigging swan, so I turned and kept walking…only to have the chief jerk himself, Armstrong, step in front of me. I recognized the muscular man standing behind him as Ultimate Fighter, and despite beating the hell out of some of my guys—Melvin’s video confirmed at least two—he didn’t have a scratch on him.

“Owen. I’m surprised to see you here. I heard you took a nasty spill.” The unctuous bastard just oozed sincerity. “Landed in a fountain, if I heard right.”

“No biggie, Rick. The tile broke my fall.”

He looked over my shoulder at his men. “I hope you boys are getting along better after last evening’s unpleasantness.”

“Boys will be boys.”

“I hear you there.” Even his laugh was annoying. It’s weird how some people can be perfectly polite, yet still be complete asshats at the same time. “It’s understandable that your men needed to blow off some steam, especially with all the stress MHI is under.”

“What stress?”

“MHI isn’t used to competition. You’ve got us taking business from you out west, the Vermont Stump Jumpers in the northeast. All these hungrier companies, and MHI is so old-fashioned and stuck in its glory days. It’s got to be tough for you.”

My gosh, I hated this guy.
I watched Ultimate Fighter. He seemed wary but relaxed. They weren’t stupid enough to do anything here, what with all of the hotel security being keyed up, not to mention Agent Franks. This was simple Type A personality posturing.
Screw it.
“Yeah, it is tough being the biggest and best in a world of fly-by-night wannabes, but you get used to it.”

The friendly facade slipped just a little. “Some say the Shacklefords are dinosaurs.”

“Like a Tyrannosaurs Rex.” I laughed in his face. “Oh, I’m sorry…” I gestured at his men. “Was I supposed to be intimidated?”

“Everybody knows the sun is setting on MHI.” Armstrong folded his arms. “But I didn’t come over here to trade barbs, hotshot. I’ve got something for you. Mr. Durant, if you would…” He stepped out of his way and Ultimate Fighter took his place.

I sized him up. He was much smaller than I was, but this dude was cut, and judging from the videos, not somebody you wanted to tangle with. “So, I’m guessing you’re supposed to be PT’s tough guy.”

He handed me an envelope. I took it without even thinking. “Everyone needs a hobby. I happen to enjoy competitive mixed martial arts. However, as a member of the bar, I’m also Paranormal Tactical’s legal advisor. I’m serving in the latter capacity today.”

He was remarkably well spoken for a man who had choked Cooper unconscious. “You’re an attorney?” I opened the envelope, looked inside, read, blinked, reread, and still couldn’t believe my eyes. “This is a restraining order…”

“Oh, you thought that you were the only ones that could call in favors on short notice. Last month we helped out a judge with a bad case of hobgoblins.” Ultimate Lawyer nodded at the other PT men. “You’ve been served in front of witnesses. Since we now fear for our safety, any MHI staff that was involved with last night’s altercation are required to stay at least one hundred yards from any employee of Paranormal Tactical Consulting at all times. The lawsuit paperwork for the injuries sustained by our employees during your company’s reckless and negligent rampage will be delivered to your Alabama office by certified mail.”

The order looked legitimate. It even had each of our involved Hunters’ names on it, except for Holly, because she’d managed to avoid getting arrested. I couldn’t believe this. Slugging each other was one thing, but lawyers? That was just plain nasty. “You son of a bitch.”

“One hundred yards, Pitt. Better start walking,” Armstrong suggested.

“You haven’t seen me shoot, asshole,” I muttered. “You should’ve asked for a thousand.”

He started to say something else, but luckily another person interrupted our conversation. “Owen Zastava Pitt?” A thin, tanned-as-leather young man pushed past the three PT goons. “Is that you?” He sounded Australian.

“That’s me.” I shook his hand with my right while I crumpled the restraining order in my left, glaring at Armstrong.

The Australian shouted at his friends. “It is him!” Then he went back to pumping my hand up and down. “The primary on one of the biggest bounties ever, well, how do you do?” The other Australians followed along, and pretty soon I was shaking hands and getting slapped on the back by a bunch of friendly tough guys from a small company out of Melbourne. The PT Hunters were forced out of the way. The interlopers even wanted to take their pictures with me. “What happened in New Zealand? We snuck a look at that great big fucking insect tree they built the silo over and it’s ugly as they say. So, the rumors about you blowing up an Old One, true?”

“Sort of.” I glanced over at my new enemies and shrugged. “Celebrity. You get used to it…Come on, we need to go to the other end of the hall before I can tell the story. These morons just served me with a restraining order because we kicked their asses in a friendly little fistfight.”

“Really? Just for that?”

“It was even a fair fight.”

The Australian scowled at them. “What cocks.”

“I know!”

Chapter 4

Twenty minutes later, the tie was undone, sleeves rolled up, stuffy decorum had been ditched, and I was at the far end of the hall, surrounded by a crowd of Hunters as I told them the story about facing off against the Dread Overlord in its home dimension. After the Australians had drawn attention, I’d picked up a mess of assorted Europeans, some Brazilians, two guys from India, and an absolutely stunning woman from South Korea. Apparently, obliterating a great Old One with a doomsday device designed by Isaac Newton was so awesome that it transcended all cultural and language barriers, plus it helped that I did great sound effects.

Careful to leave out the classified or embarrassing parts, such as me being the Chosen One and surviving zombie bites, Agent Franks’ real identity, the fact that the MCB had been infiltrated by a death cult, or that the Condition’s necromancer had once been a member of MHI, it still made for a pretty nifty story. Plus it had been a while since I’d had an audience where it was legal for me to actually tell it to. Everyone at MHI had already heard it a dozen times.

Earl and Julie came by at one point, with Earl just shaking his head in amazement. I wasn’t getting the information that he wanted, but I was certainly succeeding as MHI’s goodwill ambassador. Offending the gnomes and getting beat up that one time had been an aberration on my diplomatic resume. I could be perfectly decent at networking when I put my mind to it. Julie seemed rather proud of me, and gave me one of those wifely
I knew you could do it
smiles.

I folded the restraining order into a paper airplane and sailed it over to Julie without even interrupting my narrative. She caught, unfolded, and read it while mouthing something that looked suspiciously like
ducking mother truckers
, but I’m not very good at lip reading. Julie immediately whipped out her phone, surely to call MHI’s own attorneys. Our little spat with PT was about to get even uglier. You did not want to play business hardball against Julie.

I was surprised when Agent Archer had joined my crowd, though he had probably been sent over to make sure I wasn’t giving away any state secrets. So I pointed him out as one of the heroes of the Arbmunep fight, not that I had any idea what he had actually done during that particular fight, since I’d been rather preoccupied at the time. The young agent’s cheeks grew red with embarrassment, but since I’d now singled him out as one of the good guys, he was pretty much trapped into agreeing with me about how stupendous everything had been.

I finished the story with, “And the worst part, since the Dread Overlord wasn’t actually on Earth, we didn’t get to put in for the PUFF bounty!” Most of the Hunters laughed, while a couple of translators hurried to finish the story, and then their charges laughed too. A few of the Hunters didn’t join in, and these were the ones that thought I was full of crap. I couldn’t particularly blame them, since if I hadn’t witnessed the mountain-sized squid god, I wouldn’t have believed myself either.

One German in particular was looking at me like I’d pushed his grandmother off her walker. “You speak about creatures of unbelievable horror so flippantly, I wonder perhaps if you have ever actually seen one.” He was of average height, fit but not big, probably forty, with a neatly trimmed beard and a very stern demeanor. “A great Old One is nothing to joke about. Even speaking of them draws their ire.”

“You think talking about them makes them angry, try hitting one with an alchemical super weapon. I don’t think we’ve met…”

He immediately handed me a rather nice business card. “Klaus Lindemann. I am the commander of Grimm Berlin.” That was one of the companies that Earl had referred to as
all right.
Several of the other Hunters had apparently heard of the German team as well, because there were some impressed-sounding whispers from the crowd. I stuck the card in my pocket. “I intend no disrespect—”

“That’s normally what someone usually says right before they disrespect you,” I said as I handed him one of my business cards. Owen Z. Pitt. Combat Accountant.

“Yes…but your tale is absurd.”

“You don’t have to take my word for it.”

Lindemann sniffed. “I did not intend to.”

“Agent Archer!”

The Fed jumped, not used to being pointed out in a group of Hunters. He swallowed hard, and Archer was one of those skinny types with the pronounced Adam’s apple, so his discomfort was extra obvious. “Yeah?”

“Sorry about blowing your cover.” Several of the Hunters laughed at that, since the guys with black suits and earpieces were obviously MCB. It didn’t matter what country you were from, every Hunter knew about the MCB, if not personally, then at least by reputation. “Care to tell our honored guests about how me and Franks blasted the Dread Overlord?”

Archer was like a deer in the headlights. I knew from experience that he was pretty decent at lying to the press, but this wasn’t a bunch of ignorant dupes to be led around by the nose. These folks made their livings killing things that weren’t supposed to exist. “I…uh, can neither confirm nor deny…” He looked around nervously at all the waiting Hunters. “There’s an official MCB press release concerning the events in New Zealand…and…Shoot…That’s all I can say.”

“Thank you, Agent.” Just having the official type corroborate that
something
had happened was even better, because now their imaginations would fill in the blanks. It gave my story a certain air of legitimacy. “It was really neat. Giant alien death tree and crazy cultists. You guys would’ve loved it.” Archer realized too late that since he hadn’t simply shot me down, he had sort of verified my story to the others, which I’m positive hadn’t been his assignment. The young agent tried to be discreet as he fled the crowd, probably worried that his superiors were going to chew him a new one.

“It’s real enough,” an Englishman told Lindemann. “The New Zealand government has a mutual assistance treaty with the BSS.” His tone suggested that their feelings about their British Supernatural Service were equivalent to our opinion of the MCB. “Their Select Group were carrying on about one of our contracts at the time, but they left in a hurry to help damage control. Word from a chap on the inside was that they had to hide a big one.”

“I’ve seen the aftermath of this Arbmunep beasty,” the leader of the Australians said. “The whole area’s been cordoned off by military research. There’s a new building on the spot. Looks rather like a very unnecessarily big silo, and they won’t say what’s inside.”

Lindemann adjusted his sport coat. “So it seems that something extraordinary did occur in New Zealand.” The admission seemed to pain him. “I stand corrected, Mr. Pitt. You have my apologies.”

“I know what’s in that silo. They’re studying the Arbmunep. From what the cult leader told me, there are more of those things buried all over the world.” Earl had wanted us to gather intel, so it was worth a shot. “And that’s not the weirdest thing we’ve seen lately. MHI has had a few really odd cases over the last few years…Mr. Lindemann used the word extraordinary. I’d say that fits. What about you guys? Anything extraordinary in your neck of the woods?”