Monster Hunter Legion

  Holly was watching the smoke and shaking her head. “That is some major weirdness. It’s so . . . contained . . .” Normally you’d be able to see a fire or something, but this was just gray. Not only that, but the pavement ran right up to it then seemed to drop off, as if the smoke was coming out of a hole. “It’s like it’s held inside some sort of force field.”

  “What happens if the force field comes down?” Mosh shuddered at the thought of all that smoke getting loose. It looked . . . sticky.

  “How should I know?”

  “You’re the professional Monster Hunter.”

  “Newsflash. I’ve never seen anything like that before, and I’ve seen a ten-story walking insect tree, so chill the hell out.” Holly reached out and popped the collar on Mosh’s jacket. “Cover your neck tattoos. The next line is going to be MCB. Try to look professional. Think paramilitary business casual, but with a bureaucratic stick up your ass.”

  He had six inches of dyed pointy goatee hanging off his chin. Mosh wasn’t sure how he was supposed to look business casual, but then again the jacket said DEA. He’d just say that he worked undercover . . . And then they’d probably ask to see his ID or badge, or whatever DEA agents had, and when he couldn’t produce one, they’d probably shoot him. “So what is the plan, exactly?”

  “Look for someplace where you’d put the expert on this sort of thing, so some sort of command center probably. I saw the Feds use a giant rubber tent for that once, but they’ve commandeered all the local buildings, so they’re probably in one of those. If we can’t find him, then find Franks.”

  “The big scary one? Are you out of your mind?”

  “Maybe. If he doesn’t just arrest us, then I trade information for a chance to interview this Dr. Blish.”

  “Information?”

  “I can’t really call it blackmail, because I’m not stupid enough to try to blackmail Stricken. Think more along the lines of me giving Franks an excuse to murder somebody.”

  “Subtle.”

  “As a train wreck. I give Franks a license to kill, he lets me interview the scientist, and then we get that to our friends.”

  “Assuming they’re still alive,” Mosh said as he watched the cloud of the damned. Holly glared at him. “I’m not trying to be a downer, but look at that thing.”

  “When it comes to survival, Hunters make cockroaches look like quitters. So man up, Mosh.” She quieted down as several SWAT cops jogged by. “They’re still alive. I know it.”

  He waited until they were alone again. “I’m kind of scared of Franks.”

  “Oh, he’s cuddly. Don’t worry. Him and your brother are tight.”

  “That’s not exactly how Owen tells it—”

  “You know how Z likes to exaggerate. Enough talking. Put your big-girl panties on and follow my lead.”

  Holly kept them on the normal cop side of the line, paralleling no-man’s-land, trying to spot anyone that looked like an old scientist. Unfortunately, there were several big vehicles, a few tents, and even a couple of small buildings that had been taken over inside the inner perimeter. Whenever someone would come near, Holly would either walk past like she was on a mission, or if they looked like the sort of people who might try to talk to her, she’d get out her cell phone and have an imaginary conversation with her superiors as they gave her imaginary directions to their imaginary position.

  It took half an hour to walk all the way around the site, and they were just as clueless as when they’d started. “We’re wasting time. I’m going to have to go in,” Holly told him finally. “You stick out like a sore thumb. Stay here.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Mosh answered with more bravado than he felt. “I can’t let you go in there alone.”

  “You going to protect me, stud? Ninja your way in there all badass and choke out the guards?”

  It sounds stupid when she puts it that way. “Sorry, I left my wall-climbing boots at the hotel. Maybe the dead guys have an idea? Gimme a sec. Hey, ghosts, you got any ideas?”

  Holly was suspicious. “Does that work?”

  “I don’t know. A couple of hours ago I thought I was having an aneurism when they started talking to me. I’m not Owen.”

  “No kidding. He’d actually be useful.” Holly put her hands on her hips. “Hurry up and do . . . whatever.” She turned back to the smoke pillar. “Being psychic must run in the Pitt family.”

  “Psychosis runs in the Pitt family,” he muttered. Mosh closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could. It made him feel completely ridiculous. Mordechai, Bubba, come in. Help me out here. He put his head down and folded his arms. Do I like need to meditate or something?

  Now that he was more familiar with the effect, he could tell that the voice only seemed to be coming from around him, when in actuality it was completely inside his head. No wonder his brother had gotten so weird, living with this kind of thing. “Go with the men,” Mordechai told him.

  What men?

  “The secret policemen who will shoot you in the back if you try to run away.”

  Mosh opened his eyes to find himself staring down the muzzle of an assault rifle. Behind the rifle was a dude in black body armor, helmet, and face-covering balaclava. Three other men moved up behind him, coming silently from around the corner of a military truck. “Uh, Holly?”

  She was still watching the MCB line. “What now, Mosh?” She turned around to see the SWAT team pointing four guns at them. “Oh . . . Hey there.”

  “Put your hands in the air,” said the first gunman.

  She slowly raised her hands. “I’m looking for the Las Vegas FBI SAC, I was told—”

  “Save it.” Two kept covering them while the other two moved up. Mosh’s face was shoved hard against the truck, and in a flash he was relieved of his Glock and handcuffed. He finally managed to look over to see Holly getting the same treatment. “Holly Newcastle, you’re under arrest.”

  Holly snarled at Mosh. “I swear you are the worst lookout ever.”

  “I was meditating!”

  “Worst. Ever!”

  * * *

  The four masked men didn’t say another word as they dragged the cursing Holly and the frightened Mosh across the pavement of no-man’s-land and into a Pancake Hut. It still smelled like breakfast and that just made the still hung over Mosh feel nauseous.

  The restaurant had been cleared out. They were seated in a booth, hands cuffed behind them. Through the window, only a few hundred yards away, was the swirling smoke that concealed the site of the Last Dragon. That was too depressing to look at, so Mosh read and reread the labels on the syrup bottles. Three of the men kept watch on them while the fourth disappeared for a bit. There were no logos or markings on any of their clothing, just empty spots of Velcro. Between that and the masks, Mosh had no idea who these men were, if they were regular cops, or MCB, or worse, whatever shadowy bunch that Holly was so nervous about. They seemed to be the only people inside the Pancake Hut. The lack of witnesses struck him as a bad thing.

  “What’s going to happen?” Mosh whispered to Holly after five minutes of awkward silence.

  She whispered back. “If we’re lucky, they let us go. If we’re unlucky, they send us to prison. If we’re really unlucky, they drag us into the freezer and put a bullet in the back of our necks.”

  “I’m liking that first option best.” On the bright side, at least if he got sent to prison he’d probably already have a lot of fans there.

  “Keep your fingers crossed.” Holly raised her voice. “So, what does a girl have to do to get some service around here? I’m not leaving a very good tip at this rate.” None of the men said a word. “Really? Nothing? I hear the blueberry waffles here are great. Well, up yours then. I want to talk to Agent Franks of the MCB. Come on, I know you assholes know who he is. Big guy, lots of muscles, always looks sort of angry, usually hitting someone. Ring any bells?”

  But the men didn’t say a word. Another minute passed before the fourth man returned, l
eaned his rifle against the wall, and slid into the booth across from them. He was still wearing a mask and kept his voice artificially low and raspy. “What’ve you got to say to the big man?”

  “Are you trying to sound like Batman? Because if you’re not, I’ve got some throat lozenges in my purse. How’d you spot us anyway?”

  “You kept pretending to talk on your phone in the area where all cell signals are being jammed. Dumb move.” The man put his hands on the table, then noticed that he’d put his Nomex gloves in some sticky syrup. “Aw . . .” He reached over, took some napkins from the dispenser and cleaned his gloves off. He turned back to them, started to ask another question, but then decided to wipe the rest of the syrup up first.

  Holly began to laugh. “Seriously, Agent Archer? Are your OCD meds not working?”

  The man across from them got defensive. “I don’t know who—”

  “Really, Agent, the growly fake voice thing doesn’t work, and besides, I’ve always thought you had the most beautiful eyes. Which, by the way, I can see. You’re not exactly a master of disguise.”

  He seemed to deflate as he reached up and pulled his balaclava off, revealing a thin-faced young man, with a blond flattop haircut. “All right, Holly. You got me.”

  Mosh looked between them. Apparently they knew each other. “I’m confused now.”

  “Mosh, this is Agent Archer of the MCB,” Holly explained.

  “MCB?” Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

  “Who was also one of your brother’s ineffectual bodyguards against the Condition. And I lied about the eyes, Archer. Torres was the hot one, too bad he was a nut bar. Where’s Franks? I really do have a message for him. It’s important.”

  “Not so fast. You’re in a restricted area impersonating a federal agent. You’re in big trouble.” Though sounding far less ridiculous without the cheesy threatening voice, he was still trying to play it tough. “First off, you need to tell me what you’re doing sneaking around in here.”

  “I was sneaking because if I’d run into Stricken and he found out what I wanted to tell Franks, he’d more than likely kill me. This is one of those things. Come on. I’m not stupid. If I can’t talk to Franks, let me talk to Myers. This is legitimate big time. Stricken knows how to beat this monster, but he’s planning on letting all those people in there die first.”

  Archer’s tough-guy facade slipped. Surprise. “How did you hear that?”

  “So you know, but you’re cool with it? You planning on letting that thing murder all my friends and a bunch of innocents while you MCB tough guys sit around on your asses?”

  “Oh, hell no! What do you think we are? Some of us—Well . . . There’s official orders, but you’d have to be an idiot to believe them. We’re trying to stop this thing before anyone else gets hurt.”

  Mosh had no idea what was going on, but it seemed like not all of the government people were on the same side here, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. Especially since Holly was talking to the side that had mercilessly ruined his life, and they were supposed to be the nice ones.

  “So let me talk to Franks or Myers!” Holly demanded. “I know you’re not stupid, so you know I didn’t come in here for kicks. Get your boss.”

  “There might be a problem with that . . . See, there are some communication issues . . .”

  “Oh, come on. Communications was like your thing, wasn’t it? So communicate with your damn superiors and fix this mess. I know you can’t like that psycho Stricken bossing you guys around. What I’ve got will totally burn him.”

  Archer looked to one of the other masked men and shrugged. That one spread his hands as if to say beats me. Archer sighed. Holly looked at the other one suspiciously. “Wait a second . . . You guys are up to no good, aren’t you? Where’s the rest of the MCB? Does Stark know about this? Oh my gosh, Archer, you’re a vigilante? Haw! MCB agents have gone off the reservation. You’ve gone rogue! This is golden. I knew the new guy sucked, but I didn’t know he sucked that much.”

  “No. That’s crazy . . .” Archer stammered. “That’s . . .” He looked back at the other agent for help again.

  “So much for plausible deniability. Way to go, Archer.” The other agent gave up and pulled his mask off as well. “Good to see you again, Holly.”

  Holly laughed, harder this time. “No freaking way! You?”

  Mosh was totally confused now. “Who? What?”

  The other agent was a handsome, square-jawed, chiseled-feature type. One of those guys with that sort of natural confidence of somebody born to be one of the beautiful people. Despite having just been wearing a ski mask, even his hair seemed neat. He nodded in greeting. “Nice to see you again, Mosh. I’m Special Agent Grant Jefferson, Monster Control Bureau.”

  “Wait . . . I know you.”

  “We met briefly at the MHI compound.”

  He’d been at Sam Haven’s funeral. “You’re the dude my brother beat up and stole Julie from!”

  “That’s not how it . . . Hell. Never mind.” Jefferson sighed. “Listen, Holly, we need to tread carefully here. I need you to know that not all of the MCB are happy with the official plan.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?” Holly snapped.

  Someone else answered from behind them. “We intend to save the day.”

  Mosh craned his neck around to look over the back of the booth. A middle-aged man in a charcoal-colored suit had come up silently behind them, and it wasn’t the manager of the Pancake Hut. Mosh immediately recognized the smug, obnoxious, lying face of the man who had orchestrated the ruination of his life. “You . . .”

  “Yes.” Agent Myers stopped next to the booth and gave Holly a nod of recognition. “You, I’m not surprised to see here meddling.” He looked next at Mosh. “You, I didn’t expect. Your psychological profile suggested you were a narcissist that didn’t suffer from heroic delusions like your brother. When did you get suckered into joining MHI?”

  “Never. I’m a freelance ass-kicker. So uncuff me now, asshole.”

  “Or what?” Myers asked slowly.

  Mosh hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Or you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

  “I already bribed your leech of an attorney into failing miserably during your civil-liability cases last year, Mr. Pitt, and he did a rather spectacular job of it too. I was surprised he came so cheaply as well. Apparently, he didn’t much care for you to begin with. So spare me the sanctimony.”

  “What? Max sold me out? That son of—”

  Holly made a shushing noise. “Quiet. Grownups talking . . . Okay, Myers. So I know what you know, and you know that I know, but you don’t know all I know, and there’s something else that I simply must know . . . So we need to make a deal.”

  “I’m listening.”

  She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I know that Stricken is planning on letting everyone inside the Last Dragon die before he makes a move.”

  “Unfortunately, it would appear you are correct. Mr. Stricken feels that an event of this magnitude will result in him receiving the permissions necessary to go ahead with a very controversial plan. My guess is that he considers these deaths an acceptable loss in order to reach his goals.”

  “That’s the difference between us. I don’t consider any losses acceptable. Are you mounting a coup against Stricken, or what?”

  “Coup is such a nasty word.”

  Despite being in handcuffs, Holly seemed completely at ease. Mosh found her confidence almost annoying. “You know what else I hear is a nasty word in some circles? Nemesis. I’ve heard that Stricken is willing to murder you and Franks over it.”

  That got his attention. Myers waved his hand dismissively at Archer, and the junior agent slid out of the booth to go stand next to Jefferson. Myers sat down across from them. He steepled his fingers and studied them with cold eyes. “Ahh, Ms. Newcastle, how you never cease to amaze me. Now on you, the Las Vegas MCB truly dropped the ball. Your resume was rather underwhelming, and
the routine psychological profile pegged you as a rather mundane specimen of an attack survivor. Your background suggested that you wouldn’t be the type to talk about trauma, since you obviously know how to keep a secret. So you were simply warned, filed, and forgotten. If we had realized what a spitfire you’d turn out to be, then the MCB would have made you a job offer. I hate to see this much talent wasted on the private sector.”

  “Why, thank you, Agent Myers. That’s the sweetest thing an MCB representative has ever said to me. But my parents weren’t first cousins, so I’m afraid I’d be ineligible.”

  “Such a loss.” Myers nearly smiled. “And the information that you need?”

  “How to defeat this monster and save my friends. Preferably today. I want to talk to Dr. Blish.”

  “You are remarkably well informed.” Myers glanced around theatrically. “Are there gnomes here that I don’t know about?”

  “I hope not. Little bastards give me the creeps. You help me and in exchange I give you an audio recording of Stricken being all plotty and nefarious.”

  “What good does that evidence do me? I’m more than aware of Stricken’s nature, and he’s not the sort of man that you can touch with things like the truth.”

  “Like you’d know the truth if it bit you in the ass,” Mosh muttered.

  “Compliments will get you nowhere, Mr. Pitt.”

  Holly shook her head. “I don’t care if you use it to hold a congressional hearing or stick it on YouTube. Personally, I planned on just playing it for Franks and letting that murder machine sort things out. I’m straightforward like that.”

  “Agent Franks is currently indisposed,” Myers said. Holly began to ask another question, but Myers held up one hand to silence her. “I’ll level with you, Ms. Newcastle. When I arrived, I attempted to speak with the scientist, Blish, but was ordered out of the area. I’m supposed to be on a plane to Washington right now. Direct command of my strike force was taken over by Director Stark. He is in total operational control.”