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Old Flames, New Fires
Old Flames, New Fires
Old Flames, New Fires
Ebook103 pages2 hours

Old Flames, New Fires

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Eric Margrave, Monster Hunter Extraordinaire, prefers to avoid working with large, shadowy, supernatural organizations. They have a lot of rules, they don't let you use your own guns, the pay is terrible, and they have a nasty habit of trying to kill you when they're done with you.

But when an old enemy/lover (Not mutually exclusive, with him) steals an artifact that could be the end of at least a significant chunk of the world, the shadowy organization in question comes knocking on his door seeking answers... and when they knock with a sniper rifle, you know they mean business. Now Eric has to do both of his least favorite things: face his past, and work well with others.

Should be fun.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 8, 2014
ISBN9781311409676
Old Flames, New Fires
Author

Andrew E. Moczulski

Long-time writer, short-time trying to sell it! See some of my above links for examples of non-professional fanwork; they aren't to the same standards of professional quality as what I will post for sale, but they give a decent idea of my style. I hope to be around for a long time, so please, I hope you enjoy my stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

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    Old Flames, New Fires - Andrew E. Moczulski

    Old Flames, New Fires

    A Slayer of Evil (Prices Negotiable) Story

    By

    Andrew E. Moczulski

    Copyright 2014, Andrew E. Moczulski

    Smashwords Edition

    ***

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

    This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

    I sat in the spotlight, sighing in annoyance, the handcuffs binding me to the table rattling as I did.. You know, this is really just silly, guys. All this stuff? Leaving me alone to stew, keeping me in a focused light so I can't see my surroundings, the muzak in the background? You realize it's not going to throw me off my game, don't you? I have literally not been bored in the last twenty years. I talk to myself, see, so I always have a good conversation at hand.

    Nobody answered.

    You guys are jerks. Has anyone ever told you you're jerks? You're jerks, I said. Childish, maybe, but I wanted some answers. You know, I bet this isn't even a real place. I bet you're like, terrorists pretending to be the government. I saw a show with that on it, once, and it was actually pretty good for the first few seasons until the head writer left. So if that is what's going on, I'd like to talk to the hot chick with the funny wigs. I'm betting that I'm charismatic enough to be her love interest.

    A voice came over the loudspeaker, saying, in a voice so bland that vanilla would have considered it boring, An agent will be with you shortly.

    "I'm an American citizen, you know. I have rights. I demand to be subjected to 'Good Cop, Bad Cop.' It is the God-given right of everyone who enters the judicial system to get to experience that routine at least once in their life. I'm about 90% sure it's in the Constitution, right under the clause that demands Christopher Walken keep getting into movies."

    An agent will be with you shortly.

    I sighed. "You're very uncooperative. You know, if I was uncooperative, you'd be yelling at me. You'd say things like 'Talk, dirtbag!' and 'I can't cut you a deal if you don't give me something in return.' Or rather, the bad cop and the good cop, respectively, would say those things. Are they ever going to show up? You're infringing on the Constitution, man. And they call me a criminal."

    That would be because you are, Mr. Margrave, said a new voice as the door opened. More joy... between the glare of the light shining down on me, and the light streaming in behind him into the otherwise dark room, I couldn't make out features. He closed the door, and sat down across from me, in the darkness. I heard papers shuffling.

    I'm not sure what you mean, I said cheerfully. When caught by authorities of any sort, it's really bad idea to admit to anything, especially since if you are smart about evidence, they shouldn't have much proof of whatever you did.

    I'm sorry, allegedly did.

    "Oh, I'm very sure you do, Mr. Margrave. Your file is rather amazingly extensive. Assault, bribery, resisting arrest, petty larceny, destruction of private property... rather a lot of that one... and oh yes, what would appear to the untrained eye to be some murder," the man said.

    Why, that's just silly. I am fully aware of the fact that I am not wanted for any one of those crimes... I began.

    ... Under the name Eric Margrave. However, I am obligated to ask if the names Jefferson Hoight, Charles Kincaid, Frank Sullivan, Marcus DeWitt, or Rudy Highmark sound familiar? the man said, opening the file to a new page, which appeared to be a long list of driver's licenses, complete with pictures. All of the pictures appeared to be me.

    "You have been a very bad boy, haven't you, Mr. Margrave?"

    Three hours earlier...

    I slammed the van door, juggling three plastic bags of assorted foods, and said, You could help me with this, you know.

    No, I literally cannot. We have been over this more than once, have we not?

    I think you might have been lying. I mean, what proof do I have that your physicality works the way you say it works? You have been known to lie.

    You have us backwards again. You are the amoral, dishonest mercenary. I am the closest thing you have to a human conscience.

    That isn't how I'm choosing to remember it.

    You will, of course, someday learn that just because you think something does not make it true?

    "When you learn that just because you say you can't help, if you don't prove it, it doesn't mean anything."

    For the love of God, Eric, it is just groceries.

    "Heavy groceries. And you might recall I got some stitches from that last job? They hurt."

    "Two stitches. In the top of your shoulder. I have seen you shrug off far worse."

    Yeah, well... you're a bitch.

    I considered that winning the argument, and walked to the door, whistling cheerfully. Lydia, my roommate, followed close behind, letting out a small exasperated noise as she moved. All told, it was a nice, simple, quiet day. I so rarely get to do things like just go out and buy milk, or see a baseball game. I mean, those are bad examples since I don't like milk or baseball, but you know what I mean. Normal stuff. I would go crazy if I had to do them all the time, sure, but every once in awhile it was nice to be normal.

    I shifted the bags so the eggs wouldn't spill out and get all over the silver bullets, and walked to the door, just like a normal person. It was just plain soothing.

    Oh, don't look at me like that. You've already seen how this ends up, so even if you're new you probably should have figured out that my idea of normal is a little bit skewed. For me, silver bullets are actually a little bit more in demand than food. You can find food if you really need it, but silver ammunition is one of those things that always end up on the shopping list, and not just for werewolves. It has distraction-to-lethal level effectiveness on things as varied as ghosts, wendigo, skinwalkers, zombies (though lead works for them too), and I've heard conflicting reports about vampires. Never had the chance to test that one out myself. Oh! And humans, of course. I don't hunt humans for preference, but fun fact: 99% of evil cults worshiping the local Ichor Creature from Beyond the Veil are made up of humans, and they tend to have a lot of knives. Bullets of any sort of metal are great to have around when that happens.

    Professional monster hunting is not as hard as most people seem to think it is. The job itself is really all about having a lot of bullets and knowing how to use them. In truth, the financial part is harder; getting your name out there is not easy when your field of expertise involves killing things that occasionally turn back into humans when they die. I have seventeen fake identities out there, and another dozen that I have never even used, but I also need to make it clear how clients can actually get in touch with the real me. Most of it is done via word of mouth, but I also have a couple dummy websites, any number of allies in the community that I can trust to forward me business they can't take themselves, and occasionally I even just go investigate suspicious things on my own.

    It's a balancing act. You have to stay carefully between making sure the right people know your name, and making sure the wrong people don't. A person who knows that a dead vampire looks just like a human corpse will pay you to kill one for them. A person who doesn't think that vampires exist will think you just drove a stake through a random person's heart. Since there's a lot more

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