The Monster Hunters

  Sam grinned. “The finest warriors in history trained me to fight from the sea. I’m a master of maritime mayhem, a Son of Poseidon,” he loudly proclaimed. Sam had been a Navy SEAL. He paused to pick up his hat and smashed it back onto his mullet. “So of course, Earl puts me in charge of a team stationed five thousand feet above sea level in the middle of the damned country. Denver’s lousy with hippies. I mean, they’re everywhere. But the women are smoking hot and there are some good local beers. So overall, it’s a wash.” He turned his shoulder so we could see the patch on his armor. “Check it out. Pretty cool, huh?” The Team Haven patch was a walrus with a banjo. “Maybe you kids will get your own someday. Holly could have a stripper on a pole. That’d be sweet.”

  “I’ll save you a copy,” Holly patted him on the back. She’d missed him too.

  “That looks great.” It really did. The walrus just kind of suited him I suppose. “Sam, listen, it’s urgent. Is Earl back?”

  He leaned in conspiratorially, glancing from side to side to make sure nobody else was listening. “He wandered in this morning. That skank-whore, Susan, got away.”

  “Figures.”

  “Don’t worry, one of these days, we’ll take them down. And I just hope that it’s one of us old-timers. It should be our job, our responsibility.” Sam had served with Ray and Susan when he had been a young Hunter and he had been on the team when Susan had disappeared. For Sam, having one of his team end up playing for the other side was a personal insult. “Come on. Earl’s downstairs recuperating.” Sam bulled his way through the crowd. Other leads intercepted us, greeting, visiting, all of them exceedingly friendly. I knew most of them from last summer or from Milo’s wedding. It was kind of weird, but among all of these more experienced Hunters, I was sort of famous. I noted that Sam was the only commander wearing his full uniform. He was just that proud of his new patch that he had to show everybody. “We’ve been interviewing Newbies all morning, and after lunch we get to fight over who gets who. But I get the first-round draft pick.”

  “Because you’re the newest team?”

  “No, because I’m that awesome. Boone thinks he gets first pick, since he says he’s short-handed. Hell, I’ve got the same number of men he does. We’ll have to wrestle for it.” Still being relatively new to the ways of MHI, it wouldn’t have shocked me to discover that feats of strength were a recognized method of solving human resource issues. “I’d whup his ass.”

  “Hmm . . . Maybe I would make a good team lead,” I muttered. I had, after all, beaten people up for money for a few years. Between that and the fact that I could actually do a budget, I might be able to get myself a promotion. As we approached the cafeteria, I heard the sound of an acoustic guitar. Glancing inside, I noticed my brother sitting at one end of the room, borrowed guitar in hand, as he cranked through something familiar. Several of the single female Newbies were sitting at the next table batting their eyes at him, as well as half a dozen masked and hooded orcs who were just happy to be in the presence of greatness. It was rare for any of the orcs to want to be around humans, even us, but they made an exception for our celebrity guest. “He always did get all the chicks.”

  Holly listened for a moment as Mosh’s fingers flew back and forth. “Damn, he’s really good.”

  “Some say the best in the world. We are a talented family.”

  “His talent’s cooler though.”

  I shook my head. “Fine, don’t come crying to me when you need help with your taxes next year.”

  Mosh saw us standing in the doorway, stopped playing mid-lyric, dropped the guitar, jumped up, and started toward me. The orcish contingent immediately began to boo loudly. He ignored them and focused in on me with an unnerving intensity. He must have picked that up from Dad. “There you are. We need to talk. Have you seen the news?”

  “Been too busy.”

  “The official story is that I caused all the crazy stuff at Buzzard Island! Out-of-control special effects and lame-ass shit like that. When can I get out of here?”

  “Dude, chill. I’m working on it.” I raised my hand defensively. “I’m taking care of this as fast as I can.”

  “Not fast enough. Mom keeps trying to talk to me. I don’t have any of my stuff. We’ve already had to cancel some shows, and if I don’t get out of here soon, we’re going to have to screw the whole tour. You know how pissed the fans are going to be when I have to refund ten sold-out concerts? I’ve got bills to pay.”

  “Aw man, you might have to sell that Ferrari you just bought,” I said.

  Mosh snorted as if I had just given him a grave insult. “It was an Aston Martin.”

  “Whatever. Look, it just isn’t safe yet. You go out in public, and you might as well strap a big target to your forehead.”

  “I can get security.”

  “Now you’re being stupid. Bodyguards aren’t up to this gig.”

  Sam raised his hand. “Hey, if I can butt in, I know a little company that can pull security . . .” Mosh and I both scowled at him. “Oh, fine. Just trying to scare up some business. Alrighty then, I’ll be waiting downstairs when you drama queens are done having your slap fight.” He spun on his boot and left. Trip looked uncomfortable. Holly appeared to be enjoying the show.

  Mosh moved in closer and poked me in the chest. I was certain he remembered just how much that bugged me. “Listen, people are already starting to talk. The fan sites are saying that I had to check into rehab. And one of those government guys was on the news saying that the big explosion was because I personally wrecked the tour bus into that gas tanker. He didn’t come out and say it, but he was trying to make it sound like I was totally wasted or something. It was the one who looks like an English teacher, the dirty, rotten, lying sack of shit.”

  “Oh, you mean Agent Myers. Yeah, that’s what he does for a living. He makes monster attacks go away.” I steered his hand away from me. “Look, I feel your pain, and I’m sure this will all make a great episode of Behind the Music someday, but in the meantime, you’re stuck.”

  “I should so kick your ass.” Mosh was ticked. “Am I supposed to be a prisoner here or something?”

  “No, feel free to walk out that front gate and let me know what kind of monster manages to eat your brain first. See if I care.”

  “Damn it!” he shouted. “This is really screwing up my career.”

  “You think a bunch of fanatics and their squid god give a crap about your career? Quit being such a baby.”

  Holly stepped gently between us. “Okay, guys, calm down. Yes, this is all Z’s fault.” She gave me a look, indicating that I had just better shut it. “And I’m sure he’s really sorry. But we’re resolving this situation as quickly as possible.”

  Mosh stepped back, still huffy. He turned his attention to Holly for the first time. “And who are you?”

  She stuck out her hand. “Holly Newcastle. Monster Hunter. I’m on your brother’s team.”

  It was almost as if I could see the mental shifting of gears. Mosh went from Angry Important Guy to Player mode. He took her hand, and wasn’t very discreet as he checked her out. And Holly was a very attractive woman. “Well, nice to meet you, Holly. I’m Mosh Pitt, international superstar.” He was such a cheese ball.

  Oh, barf. I waited for Holly to throat-punch him.

  She giggled. Tough-as-nails killer of monsters Holly Newcastle actually giggled. Like a . . . girl, or something. Trip and I looked at each other in confusion.

  “You know, Mosh, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions that just haven’t been answered. And your brother’s been too busy to help you, so I can totally understand your frustration. I’d be glad to take the time to explain everything.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, there’s been a lot going down. Maybe we could talk about this . . . over some lunch.”

  Oh my gosh. Holly was flirting with my brother. “Sure, that’s a great idea. We’re not exactly equipped for fine dining, but I could probably whip up a little something. . . . Z, Trip, wh
y don’t you guys go talk to Earl. I’ll catch up.” She took Mosh by the arm. “Right this way.”

  Mosh winked at me. “Maybe this place doesn’t totally suck.”

  They left for the kitchen. The female Newbies looked offended and the orcs were fighting over who got to keep the guitar that Great War Chief had actually used.

  “What just happened?” Trip asked.

  “Hell if I know. Either Holly’s covering for us, or she’s actually attracted to goofy-ass bald men with lots of tattoos and really stupid pointy goatees . . . My money’s on getting him out of the way for me. I owe her one.”

  Trip folded his arms. “Well . . . I don’t like it.”

  He actually sounded . . . jealous? Naw, that was absurd. “Come on, man. We’ve got to take care of business.”

  Earl leaned back in his chair and lit his fourth cigarette since I had begun my story. It was a good thing his tissues regenerated supernaturally or he surely would have died of lung cancer eons ago. He put his bare feet on the table and pondered on what I had said.

  “I just can’t believe it . . .” He shook his head. “All these years . . .”

  Trip and I had found Sam and Earl in the basement office outside of Earl’s prison cell. This was the place in which he usually cleaned up and calmed down after a werewolf stint. It was more of a bunker than an office, with some thrift-store furniture, a shower, and a door that looked like it had come from a bank vault. I knew behind that vault door was an even plainer room, with a tiny drain hole in the middle and hundreds of thousands of scratches etched into the concrete. Sam was sitting off to the side. “All these years you’ve been beating yourself up about killing the little punk and it turns out he deserved it anyway.”

  My asthma was tearing me apart. There weren’t any windows in the basement, and the air was thick with secondhand smoke. “Except it wasn’t even him you killed.”

  Sam leaned forward. “So let me get this straight. Hood swapped bodies with some other dude, and it was that dude, in Hood’s old body, getting mind-controlled or something, that opened Earl’s door?” I nodded. Sam paused to spit his chew in a Styrofoam cup. I was surrounded by nicotine addicts. “Man, that’s some messed-up shit, right there.”

  Earl talked to the ceiling. “Why didn’t you tell me, Carlos? We could have figured this out together.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” Trip said.

  “He was like a brother,” my boss said simply. He lowered his head and faced us. I was glad that the anger in that look wasn’t directed at me. “Marty Hood . . . It sounds stupid, but the more I think about it, the more it fits. He was always into that stuff. Him and Ray were always poking around the archives. Trying to understand monsters. You don’t understand them . . . you understand how they think enough to track them down and destroy them. There’s a big difference.”

  “So the necromancer was a Hunter. He knows our capabilities. Did Hood know about the compound’s ward stone?”

  “Ward what?” Sam asked. If Sam Haven didn’t even know about the warding, then that meant very few Hunters did.

  “Long story, Sam.” Earl shook his head. “Hood shouldn’t. I never told him. The last time we fiddled with it, he had already been moved to Carlos’ team. We kind of take it for granted, don’t really talk about it much.”

  “So now what do we do?” I asked.

  Earl appeared exhausted, with black circles under his eyes. He pulled a pair of socks out of the desk and started putting them on. “Let me think on it. We’ll talk again later. Right now, I’ve got to get presentable. I need to play referee while the team leads fight over who gets which Newbie.”

  “I want the Haight brothers,” Sam said quickly. “I need more shooters, and those boys are tough.” I knew which Newbies he was talking about right away. They were two brothers from Utah, whose construction crew had accidentally dug up the resting place of some evil spirit while laying a foundation. Both were rodeo tough guys and longtime varmint hunters; they had also been by far the best gunmen in this class.

  “I can’t give you both of them,” Earl said.

  “Aw . . . come on, man. They made a bomb out of five hundred pounds of ammonium nitrate fertilizer on the spot and blew up a skinwalker. That’s the kind of initiative I need!”

  “You and everybody else, Sam. I give you both of them, and I’ll have to listen to the others complain about favoritism.”

  Sam smirked. “Well, I am your favorite. Okay, if I can’t have them, then I want that Torres kid.” Trip and I snickered. “What? Something about him I don’t know? He seems squared away.”

  “He should be. He’s one of Franks’ men,” I replied. “He’s one of my protective detail.”

  Sam scowled. “Now you’re just messing with me.”

  “No, I’ll explain later,” Earl said as he tied his boots. “You can’t have Archer or Herzog either. They’re Feds too.”

  “Well, Archer had struck me as a good support guy. Those anal-retentive OCD types usually are, all organized and shit. But Herzog . . .” He grimaced, “I don’t know why anybody would pick her. During the interview she went off about how a centralized government is the best way to hunt monsters. What a hag.”

  That reminded me of something. “She’s not an operator. She’s a clerk.”

  Earl looked up. “What?”

  “She’s not a Hunter at all. But she was assigned to this job by Myers himself. Herzog slipped up and admitted it because she was worried about you eating her. No offense.”

  “She’s not my type,” my boss responded dryly. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would Myers send a desk jockey on a protection job?”

  “Beats me,” I responded. “But Myers picked those three to back up Franks for a reason. And I can’t figure out why.”

  Earl stood and threw on his ancient bomber jacket. “I want to speak with Myers anyway. He needs to know his old buddy is our bad guy . . . I’m sure Franks already reported in, but I can’t wait to rub it in personally.” He smiled maliciously. “Good old Myers wanted to kill me for that night, and when he didn’t get his wish, he tried to ruin this whole company instead. He’s screwed us every chance he’s had, and it turns out that he was just as big a sucker as the rest of us.”

  There was a knock at the door, and Julie entered, only to stagger back as she hit the wall of smoke. “Oh wow, how can any of you guys breathe in here?”

  “Man business,” Sam stated. I coughed painfully.

  Earl poked himself in the chest. “Regeneration. What’s up?”

  Julie saw me and grinned, forgetting Earl for a moment. “You’re back.” Her smile brightened my day. I’m such a sap. She got down to business. “We need you upstairs. VanZant is arguing with Mayorga again about who gets the top support person. Hurley’s adamant he wants both techs, and says he needs another Spanish speaker. Esmeralda’s taken a bunch of folks out to the range because Eddings thinks she’s fudged the shooters’ scores. He says there’s no way that she can be graduating this many Newbies and more probably should have flunked.”

  My boss groaned. “That’s because last time he trained, we only passed six people and he can’t admit she’s a better trainer than he is. These guys are the best killers the world has ever seen, but I swear sometimes running this show is like herding manticores.” There was a sudden banging from inside Earl’s cell. “And another thing, why is that thing in here?”

  “Oh, I almost forgot about him. What’s his face . . . Melvin. We needed to stick him someplace secure,” Julie explained.

  “Great, now my cell’s gonna smell like troll,” Earl muttered.

  “He still might know something,” she said. “I figure give him a few days without internet access and he’ll be ready to talk.”

  Earl shook his head. “I’ll have Milo order some air fresheners before the next full moon. Okay, everyone, that’s all for now. We’ll talk again later.” The group dispersed.

  Eyes watering, lungs burning, I stumbled into the hall. Jul
ie took me by the hand as the others kept walking. “You okay?”

  “Asthma,” I replied.

  “No, I mean, about everything. Something bad happened at Appleton, didn’t it?” she asked.

  “How can you tell?”

  Julie was worried about me. “You seem . . . distant.”

  She was right to be concerned. She didn’t know just how much I had been using the power that I had gained from that artifact shard. I stroked her hair, and as it parted, the black mark on her neck was revealed. There were a lot of things I hadn’t confided to her yet, but since she was the most important person in my world, I needed to. “Everything’s going to be fine. Don’t worry. Come on, I’ll tell you all about it. But let’s get some fresh air.”

  “Oh, it isn’t that easy,” Julie said. “You forgot something. You’ve still got another challenge to face.”

  “Oh, man, what now? Walk the Hell Hounds? Clean the pterodactyl cages?”

  “Not quite that terrifying. But still, he’s pretty darn scary.”

  I had totally forgotten. “Dad.”

  I found my father sitting on a bench outside the main building next to a larger man who I recognized as one of our senior team leaders. His name was Benjamin Cody, and he was leading the team that was currently fulfilling our contract with the Department of Energy. Their patch was a molecule with fangs under the words exite! chemicus sum! Which was Latin for, Back off, man! I’m a scientist! That team had the proud history of having cleaned up Los Alamos after the Manhattan Project had unfortunately dabbled in other, less successful types of weapons projects. Cody was one of the oldest active Hunters, and you had to be damn smart to get assigned to that contract. They were our specialists when it came to taking care of science projects gone bad. Julie had mentioned recently that Cody was mulling over the idea of retirement.

  He had also served with Dad in Vietnam. I had learned that fact last summer when he had tried to pump me up to go kick Lord Machado’s ass. So at least Dad had found a friend. I approached them from behind. They apparently didn’t hear me, but what could you expect from two guys who had spent the best years of their life surrounded by explosions? Cody was telling a familiar story. “So, then they find this back door into the cavern . . . it’s some sort of magic portal. No hesitation, balls to the wall, your boy actually jumps through it, grabs the hostage, and runs out, with like fifty wights right at his feet.”