Monster Hunter Vendetta

  "It won't work, son. This is inevitable."

  "I'm getting real tired of that word," I spat. "I'll find a way to beat this. My father didn't raise any quitters . . . ​I'll talk to you later, Dad."

  Inevitable.

  There had to be a way to fix this. That's what I do. I fix things. I find ways to make them right. There had to be a way.

  I half walked, half stumbled, away from my father. I wandered aimlessly across the compound. There was a spot of shade under the roof of the barracks. It was a secluded spot, and I leaned against the wall, head in my hands. Before I knew it, my knees had weakened, and I sank to the ground, shaking.

  I couldn't wrap my brain around not having my dad around. He had always been a rock. What was going to happen to Mom? Hell, somebody had to tell Mosh. I needed to talk to him, to somebody, but I couldn't find the strength to rise. So I sat there for a long time, just tired, too dumbfounded to string a coherent plan together, feeling stupid and guilty for not staying with my father.

  Finally, something woke me from my stupor, a hard tapping on my arm.

  "What're you crying about?" G-Nome was standing in front of me, partially hidden in the shadows of the barracks. The sky behind him indicated that dusk was approaching. I had been sulking for a long time.

  "I wasn't crying . . ." I rubbed my face. "What do you want?"

  "Sissy," he answered. With me sitting down, I still towered over him, even if you counted his pointy hat. "You humans get all emotional about shit. . . . ​Well, I done found your spy."

  That got my attention. "Who?"

  "It wasn't easy. But I caught him. He's been texting on his phone. I been readin' over his shoulder. He's been tellin' somebody where you at all the time."

  "Who?" I demanded.

  The gnome smiled, eyes twinkling over rosy cheeks and puffy white beard. He took his time answering, taking a cigar out of his shirt and lighting it. He must have realized that I was about to wrench his head from his shoulders and finished quicker than he started. "That pretty-boy human, Grant."

  "Grant Jefferson? You're sure?"

  G-Nome took a long puff, then blew it out in a perfect ring. "Sure, I'm sure. Last night, when you left with that blonde hottie and your homie, he waited till you got outta sight and then he was all like textin' some fool about it. I read it, sayin' you had bags packed, like you was escapin' out the back, know what I'm sayin? But I been followin' him to make sure and he just got called by somebody checkin' on you."

  "No chance you're wrong?"

  "Hells yeah. He texts in all the time. Always sayin' where you're at and who you're talkin' to. When you went to sneak out last night, he'd sent the message before you'd even made it out the back door! Ain't just about you all either. He's been tellin' them all about MHI business."

  Bastard. All that talk about needing to succeed, not being a quitter, and I had bought that, hook, line, and sinker. He had totally snowed me. I should have trusted my initial instincts. My legs had fallen asleep, and tingled painfully as I stumbled to my feet. Coldly, I drew my .45 from my inside the waistband holster and pulled back the slide slightly to make sure I had a round chambered. "Where is he?"

  "In the big building. My dawg, Harbinger's talkin' to his peeps, some graduation ceremony or somethin', I don't know. That's why I had to find you. You gonna bring the pain?"

  "I intend to kill him if that's what you mean." I shoved my gun back in the holster.

  "Sweet!" G-Nome turned his head to the side, as if listening to something I couldn't hear from inside the barracks. His nose twitched, like he was smelling the air, and he suddenly frowned. "That ain't right. Gotta bounce. Have fun." And with a pop, he disappeared from sight.

  I started toward the main building, murder on my mind. Thirty yards away was a figure leaning against the trunk of a tree, waiting. Franks had been following me the entire time, fulfilling his duty, but keeping his distance while I had my emotional collapse. I passed him without a word. I didn't turn my head to look, but I knew he followed.

  As long as he didn't try to get in my way for what was about to come next, I didn't care. The traitor had to die.

  The rational part of my mind urged caution, that maybe I should slow down, think it through, get some help first . . . ​Maybe it was because of my dad's terrible news, maybe it was because I somehow knew with absolute certainty that the gnome was telling the truth, I didn't know exactly, but rationality went right out the window and I was in a red haze of anger that could only be cured by facing the traitor.

  The main building was busy. Everyone was congregating for the graduation ceremony that Esmeralda had organized. Earl was going to say a few words, and then announce where the Newbies were going. The atmosphere was one of excitement. Nobody else was aware that I was a man on a mission as I barged through the entrance. Dorcas was behind her desk, being harassed by joyous Newbies. From the look of her, I was guessing that for the special occasion there was more in her coffee cup than just coffee. She saw me and started shooing the others away. "Z, where've you been? Julie's looking for you, but your phone isn't picking up."

  That's because my BlackBerry was at the bottom of the river outside Montgomery. "Have you seen Grant?"

  She must have realized from my expression that this was serious. "No. What's going on?"

  I glanced in both directions, just a bunch of Newbies walking toward the cafeteria. Earl was about to speak. "Has anyone seen Grant Jefferson?" I asked loudly. The Newbies shrugged and continued on.

  Franks tapped me on the shoulder with one gloved hand. "What are you doing?"

  "Taking care of some personal business," I responded as I kept walking.

  Franks began to say something, but paused as his phone started buzzing. He looked at the display in frustration, then stopped to read the text. I took the opportunity to head down the hallway after the Newbies.

  The cafeteria was packed with folding chairs and loafing Hunters. The leads were all sitting in front, joking and heckling each other. The Newbies were filing in, taking their seats. Earl was pacing back and forth, waiting for everyone to gather. Not being the kind of person to go for a lot of ceremony, he was wearing his regular scuffed bomber jacket and looked agitated that he was doing this kind of thing. I'd heard him refer to his little talks as dog and pony shows more than once, but he was a hell of a good motivator. Julie was seated next to her grandfather. She waved when she saw me.

  I was too preoccupied to wave back. Scanning the crowd, I saw just about everyone I expected to. Even my parents were there as guests watching the spectacle, but no Grant. I hadn't formulated a plan yet. Dragging him out of the room by the hair was probably not the most discreet tactic, but it was the one that I was currently running with.

  I waited. Maybe he was coming. The Goon Squad was there, still pretending to be Newbies. Torres was the last of the undercover Feds to arrive, and when he saw me standing at the doorway, he paused and waited next to me. "You okay?" he asked, ever helpful. He must have seen the expression on my face, and grew worried. "Owen?"

  I didn't answer. The last of the Newbies pushed past me, looking for seats. The gang was all here, over sixty Hunters. Julie handed Earl a microphone and he rapped it sharply. The intercom speakers thumped.

  "Sorry, but I have to use this thing," Earl said, "Julie didn't think that it was fair that the Hunters manning the security room couldn't listen in. I don't know what she's thinking, because it ain't like I'm much of a talker." The room laughed.

  The security room. Julie had scheduled it so that at least two people were in there manning the cameras continuously since Susan's visit. I exited and ran down the hallway. Grant might be there, and if he wasn't, I could use the cameras to find him.

  I had always suspected it could be him, the slimy little prick. He had left the company with his tail between his legs. I bet he had been an easy mark for the Condition. I didn't know what they were paying him, but whatever it was, wasn't enough. He had come crawling back at such a convenien
t time . . . ​We were such suckers. Grant had probably jumped at the chance to betray us when he had found out it was all about killing me. Black anger welled up in my heart. Knowing the kind of evil we were fighting, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if his payment was in the form of Julie. Oh, this was personal now.

  Earl's voice was tinny over the intercom as he got down to business. "Welcome, Hunters. And I can actually say that now. Hunters. Because there aren't any Newbies in this room now, just equals." The sound that came next had to have been applause, but it was hard to tell.

  I flew down the stairs to the basement. The door to the security room was straight ahead down a long hallway. I stuck one hand under my shirt and put it on the butt of my gun.

  "No need to clap. Besides, if you get Boss Shackleford clapping he's likely to hurt himself with that hook." More laughter. "Just kidding, Boss."

  My blood was pounding in my ears. If Grant was in that room, I was going to end his miserable life. At the end of the hall, the door was closed.

  "Young Hunters, look at these people sitting in front of you. These are the finest leaders MHI has ever had. I've worked with every single one of them, and wouldn't hesitate to trust my life to their hands. Regardless of who you're assigned to today, you can know that you're with the very best. Well, except for Sam . . . ​for those of you stuck with him . . . ​sorry about that." There was a loud response, but it was indecipherable over the intercom. More laughter. "I'd put the microphone there, but I don't think that's legal in Alabama."

  My boots skidded across the concrete as I reached the security room. I grabbed the doorknob. It was locked.

  "Before Esmeralda reads off your name and your assignment, let me just say that this is the most successful training class we've ever conducted. I've interviewed you all. I've seen your records. I've watched you improve. I've been impressed, and I don't impress easy."

  I rapped on the door. "Come on . . ." I whispered.

  "When you came here a few short months ago, you were all survivors. That's what set you apart from the rest of the world. A survivor has heart. A will to win. A desire to live. You were survivors, but now you're something more . . ."

  My pounding increased in intensity. Nobody was answering.

  "You are Hunters."

  Something was wrong. I stepped back, and with a roar, slammed my boot into the steel door. Pain shot up my injured ankle. The frame cracked, but it held.

  "Survivors take care of themselves. Hunters take the fight to the other side. We are the final line against evil."

  I stepped back again, readying myself to kick the door again. Somebody shouted from down the hall. "Owen!" I spun to see who it was.

  "We will hold the line."

  It was Grant. He was walking down the hall toward me, five yards away. His arms were held wide and he had his phone in one hand. "What the hell are you doing to that door?"

  My .45 appeared in my hand and I punched it toward him. "Don't move! Don't you fucking move!"

  "Whoa! Whoa! Calm down!" Grant cried. He was wearing his armored suit so I aimed at the junction of his nose and eyes.

  "What are you doing down here?" I shouted.

  "Somebody said you were looking for me," he said calmly. "Now put the gun down. You're acting nuts."

  "I'm nuts? I'm not the traitor, you son of a bitch."

  Grant paused, a painful look crossing his handsome features. "I don't know what you're talking about." Earl's voice was just background noise now.

  My gun didn't waver. If he so much as twitched I was going to blow his brains out. "Don't you lie to me," I hissed. "I know all about your messages." I nodded at the phone. "Why'd you do it?"

  His eyes flicked unconsciously to the device in his hand. "Just calm down, Owen." He slowly put the phone back into his pocket, then put his hands back up.

  "Why, Grant? Do you hate me that much? Do you hate Julie that much? Are we talking jealousy, or is it something worse? Do you actually believe what the Condition stands for? Tell me, because I really want to understand before I kill you."

  He was blinking rapidly, knowing that I wasn't bluffing. "It isn't what you think."

  That sealed his fate. I tightened my grip. The safety was off. My finger was on the trigger.

  "Wait!" someone ordered from the direction I had come.

  I kept the gun on Grant, but turned my head slightly to see. It was MCB Agent Herzog. Directly behind her was Agent Torres. They must have followed me downstairs. "Get Franks. I found your spy." I turned my attention back to Grant. "And tell him to hurry, because if he wants to interrogate him, he'll need his own necromancer."

  "Listen to me," Grant pleaded. "Yeah, I've been spying on MHI, but for a good reason. Let me explain. I'm trying to help."

  "I've heard that line before, you sack of—" Then I thought of something. Nobody had answered the door to the security room, even after all the noise I had made. I lowered my gun slightly, and threw a brutal side kick into the steel. This time the bolt tore through the frame. "Don't try to run or do anything stupid. You know I don't miss," I ordered.

  I risked a quick glance into the security room.

  There was blood everywhere.

  "Son of a bitch . . ." I covered the distance to Grant quickly, my gun on him the whole time.

  "Wait. What's going on?" he asked. "I don't—"

  I struck him in the face with the butt of my compact STI. He stumbled back into the wall. I hit him again, slamming his head into the concrete. He raised his hands to protect his face, but I swatted them down and smashed my gun into his temple. Then I rammed my knee into his ribs repeatedly with savage fury. He slid to the ground. I jerked his pistol from its holster and tossed it down the hallway. I grabbed him by the boot and dragged his semiconscious weight back to the security room.

  The agents were still standing there. Herzog was shocked. Torres had drawn his sidearm and was pulling something out of another pocket, probably his radio. "Sound the alarm," I ordered as I dragged Grant through the door. Herzog glanced inside, saw the carnage, turned a ghastly shade of green, and stumbled back.

  I turned my attention to the security room. Blood was splattered all over the bank of monitors. There was a single Hunter on the floor, facedown in a giant red puddle. Adrenaline and fury were pounding through my veins. I rolled him over. It was one of the Newbies. The taxi driver. I couldn't even remember his name. His throat had been cut.

  Flat on his back, Grant groaned.

  I kicked him in the side. "Why? What'd he do to you?"

  "Wasn't me!" he cried.

  I squatted down. It was time to end it. "You want to worship the Old Ones? Well, tell them hi for me." I placed my gun against his temple.

  Grant sputtered something. It took me a second to realize he was laughing at me. His teeth were red with blood. "Old Ones? God, you're a moron . . . ​Sure, I'm a spy, but not for the Condition."

  What?

  "He's working for the Monster Control Bureau," Agent Anthony Torres said from the doorway. "Myers recruited him after he left MHI."

  "Are you serious?"

  Grant gasped as he looked over my shoulder. "It's you!"

  Torres was standing over me, collapsible baton extended above his head. "Yes." Then he cracked me hard, lights exploded in my skull, snapping my head around. The floor came up and hit me.

  "Anthony! What are you doing?" Herzog screeched. I couldn't see what happened next, but there was a sudden whump.

  Sitting up, I raised my gun but another quick strike of the baton knocked it from my hand. Torres kicked me in the chest, sending me back to the ground.

  "Stop right there," he stated as he raised his HK in his other hand. A fat sound suppressor had been screwed onto the muzzle.

  My head hurt. That baton had nailed me good. The spinning room lurched to a stop. "What are you doing?" I grunted.

  "I'm completing my mission," Torres said calmly. His normally cheerful disposition had been replaced with something cold. He stepped compl
etely into the room and closed the damaged door behind him. Back against the wall, he kept the gun pointed at me. I realized with a start that Herzog was also down, a gaping hole in the side of her head, brains dripping down the wall behind, eyes like glass, open and staring at nothing. "I never did like her," Torres said. "Too bossy." Then he lowered his gun and shot her twice more, each round from the suppressed pistol sounding like the slamming of a thick book. It was back on me before I could do anything.

  Grant struggled to sit up, but began coughing. I had really hit him good.

  "Hunters, as you enter the world, your greatest weapon is the trust you have in your team," Earl said over the intercom. The intercom speaker was next to Torres and he turned it off.

  "I've listened to enough blowhards for one night," Torres said. His demeanor had changed. The friendly act was cast aside, and now I could see the crazy in his eyes. Damn, he'd been a good actor. "You know, you look confused, Owen. Let me try to help you out here. I'm an acolyte in the Exalted Order of the Shadows, that's who I really work for. Jefferson here is pretending to work for MHI, when he's really working for Myers. His assignment was to help Franks catch which of your detail was the spy."

  "Traitors," I muttered. "Both of you."

  "I was trying to serve my country. . . ." Grant said, spitting a gob of blood on the floor. "Unlike this piece of shit."

  Undeterred, Torres' HK kept floating between Grant and me. If either of us moved, we were dead. "Well, you did find me finally, Agent Jefferson. I'll give you that." Torres smiled. "Maybe you'll get a posthumous promotion for catching me. . . ."

  "Squid lover," Grant spat.

  "Don't knock it until you try it." He turned his attention back to the door, and peeked through the crack down the hallway. The gun was still pointed in our direction. Torres was a pro. "Don't try anything stupid, Pitt."