StoryHack Action & Adventure, Issue Two: StoryHack Action & Adventure, #3

By Julie Frost, Jason Restrick, Jon Mollison and 6 more

Brace yourself for the next exciting issue of StoryHack Action & Adventure. Taking cues from the greatest pulp magazines of a bygone era, StoryHack publishes all-new stories of bravery and derring-do in a wide variety of genres. There is something in here for everyone, and each story includes art.

Here's what you will find in this issue:

• Predator/Prey Relationships by Julie Frost. When Ben's ability to shift into a werewolf is stolen, he must play a most dangerous game to get it back.
• The Temple of Baktaar by Jason Restrick. What deadly curses await when a pair of adventurers delve too deeply into an ancient, supposedly-abandoned temple?
• The Gambler's Tale by Jon Mollison. Mike has a plan to not just beat the house, but bring it crashing down entirely. The mob has other ideas.
• Crystal, Brass, and Copper by Matthew X. Gomez. When a robbery goes horribly wrong, can Bahar get any part of her old life back?
• Junior Partner by Brian K. Lowe. With his superhero captured by dangerous foes, a sidekick must decide what he is made of.
• The Crawlers beneath Avaris by David J. West. With city guards and assassins hot on his tail, Brutanis is forced into an underground maze. What he finds there may be worse than the trouble he's fleeing.
• High Ground by John M. Olsen. Captain Alexander Kemp's space station Icarus suffers an attack in orbit as the government on Earth below collapses. Can their advanced tools and mental grit keep them alive as they respond to a series of escalating attacks?
• The Chronicle of the Gorgon's Island by Keith West. A cursed prince and his right hand man are shipwrecked on an uncharted island with an unruly crew. Will the monster they find there kill them before they kill each other?
• Kakerlacs by Alexandru Constantin. After a long stint with the Corps, Mike returns to his hometown in the California desert, only to get tangled up in a sinister plot involving cops and tweakers who are more than they seem.

StoryHack is a trimphant return to fast-pased storytelling in short form. Give it a try, you'll be glad you did.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryce Beattie
• Release date: May 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386264323

Book preview

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Predator / Prey Relationships

The Temple of Baktaar

The Gambler’s Tale

Crystal, Brass, and Copper

Junior Partner

The Crawlers Beneath Avaris

High Ground

The Chronicle of the Gorgon’s Island

Kakerlacs

From the Editor

StoryHack is copyright © 2018 Baby Katie Media, LLC. Stories contained herein retain copyright by their respective authors.

Credits: Cover Art by Ed Mattinian (mattinian.com) Interior art is listed with each story Stories are by the authors. Everything else, including editing, publishing, layout, lettering, etc. is by Bryce Beattie

Predator_prey

When Ben’s ability to shift into a werewolf is stolen, he must play a most dangerous game to get it back.

Predator / Prey Relationships

by Julie Frost

PI work was boring–except when it wasn’t. Another night, another routine surveillance job in the warehouse district, and another net of wolfsbane fibers thrown over my head from behind. I’d been watching the subjects with the wind toward me so I could catch their scents, and the enemy on my six was a nasty shock.

I hit the ground on my face with a strangled snarl, the wolfsbane paralyzing me, seizing my body with freezing agony, and preventing a shift to wolf. An expensively-booted foot turned me over, and I looked up to see the client who’d hired me for this little jaunt. Richard Franklin stared down at me with undisguised glee. That was easier than I expected. For a werewolf, Mr. Lockwood, you are remarkably bad at detecting when a trap’s been laid for you. He let out a whistle between his teeth, and the others joined us.

Even through the pain, I busily catalogued faces, clothing, posture, height, and weight. They were all bigger than me, because most men and not a few women were, and one bruiser with short-cropped black hair and enormous hands picked me up like I didn’t weigh anything and carried me to the circle of light by their vehicles. I catalogued them as well, storing makes, models, and license numbers in a memory trained by PI work to pick up on details. That car had a scuff mark on the fender, the van–I squinted–had a cage inside, and the fourth man sported a vivid scar under his right eye.

He dumped me inside a… shit, that was a chalk-drawn pentagram and a runed circle, and my blood ran cold. What–

Franklin reached inside the van and came out with a handful of black robes, which they all donned. The one with the scar arranged me so my wrists and ankles were each stretched into one of the points of the star. Paralyzed and helpless wasn’t a good look for me; the PTSD I’d brought back from seven months as a POW in an Afghani cave gnawed at the edge of my perception. When I said I wanted someone with your unique talents, Mr. Lockwood, what did you think I meant? Franklin asked.

I figured, I growled, that you needed someone with Ranger training. Since that’s what it says on the website. My partner–my wife’s mom–and I had thought long and hard about what to put on the front page, and Army Ranger lent a certain cachet to our firm that others didn’t necessarily possess. The werewolf thing, we kept on the down-low. It wasn’t a secret, exactly–everyone important in my life knew about it, and my wife Janni had ended up wolfed by the same case as I had–but I didn’t tell casual strangers or clients about it unless they needed to know.

This guy hadn’t qualified. He laughed and said, That was only part of it, Ben. Can I call you Ben? And I realized that he’d dug deeper into my personal life than I was comfortable with.

Sure, if I can call you Dick. Franklin was going to be sorry he’d screwed with me.

He laughed again. Oh, good, the spirited ones are always much more of a challenge. Look at that, gentlemen, he can’t even move and he’s mouthing off at me. Delicious. The other four ranged themselves by my hands and feet, and Franklin stood behind my head, making some complicated gestures. The others started chanting. Ben, I assume you’re well-read, since you quoted Shakespeare at me when I hired you. Have you heard of ‘The Most Dangerous Game’?

Of course. And if you think I’m going to play that game with you, you’re delusional.

The bastard never stopped smiling. Sociopathic, you could probably argue. Delusional, not at all. You see, dear boy– A ball of red light appeared over his hands, and I eyed it apprehensively. Nope, still couldn’t move, God, I hated wolfsbane. If you want your wolf back– The light hovered over my heart, and a yellow one materialized and floated over my forehead. "You’ll have to play my game."

The lights landed on me as the chants rose to a crescendo, and an agonizing ripping sensation tore through my body. I gritted my teeth against a scream–like hell would I scream for this clown–but my back arched and my fists clenched and my eyes squeezed shut. I shouldn’t have been able to move anything but my head, not with the wolfsbane, but I didn’t register that because the pain went on and on and on and on until a shadow clawed its way out of my chest. Franklin had conjured a clear plastic jar from somewhere, and the shadow was sucked inside, shrieking like the damned.

The agony abruptly stopped, leaving me panting and pissed off. Franklin tilted his head, impressed. That took longer than usual. You must be quite bonded with this. He shook the jar, and the shadow swirled furiously, banging against the sides. Gentlemen, if you would bundle our new prey into the cage and take him to our preserve, I would be much obliged.

My wolf had disappeared.

Even with wolfsbane, the wolf was always at the edge of awareness, but now I reached for it and couldn’t find it. But I suddenly realized I could actually move.

I exploded off the asphalt. Before they quite understood I wasn’t helpless anymore, one of them was screaming with a compound fracture in his left arm. A snap-kick to the side of the knee sent another howling to the ground. The third cleared leather with a .40-cal Glock, but before he could do more than that, I grabbed it, squeezed, and twisted, and his finger broke along with the rest of his hand as I took it away from him.

Franklin, the coward, dived into the open side door of the panel van and slammed it shut behind him, leaving his minions trapped outside with an angry Army Ranger. I knew twenty different ways to kill them with my bare hands, and they looked abruptly terrified as the van screeched away. Not only that, but the idiots had utterly failed to search me, and I had the Glock I’d appropriated along with my own Micro Desert Eagle, which was like an extension of my arm.

The last whole one backed away from me, scrabbling for his gun. I made a chiding noise and waved the Glock. Really wouldn’t do that.

What. What are you going to do with us?

I’m still deciding. What you tell me in the next five minutes will greatly influence my decision, so talk fast, Sparky. I jacked the slide on the gun to make sure it had a round in the chamber, because I wouldn’t put it past these numbnuts to be ill-prepared. A bullet went flying out, and he eyed it with trepidation. I made a motion with the gun. Eyes up here. What did he do to me?

I don’t know–

Wrong answer. I leveled the Glock. "I will shoot you right in the head." I wouldn’t–probably–but I didn’t need to. He just had to think I would.

And he did. I don’t, okay! He told us what to say and we said it.

Where the fuck is my wolf? Where were we going?

He was going to put it back when he turned you loose on his hunting preserve. It’s what he does. He-he stores werewolves until he’s ready to use them.

Well, he picked the wrong wolf this time. Where’s this preserve?

I don’t know the address. We just go there.

"Do not bullshit me. I’m not in the mood. I bared my teeth. The effect wasn’t nearly as scary without fangs, but he was intimidated anyway. I practiced a stone-cold killer" look in the mirror; it had apparently paid off.

I don’t! It’s way out in the boonies. I growled and took a step forward, and he raised his hands in the classic don’t shoot gesture. "I mean it, that’s all I know! Please just let me go, I’ll find a new job with someone else, I swear to God."

Fine. Turn around and spread ’em. I gave him a frisking and took his gun away, along with a nasty-looking pocketknife. His comrades, moaning on the ground, received the same treatment. Get them some medical attention, I said. And if I ever, and I mean ever, see you again, I’ll kill you. Got me?

He nodded rapidly, and I backed away until I was out of their sight. Leaning against a handy wall, I slid down it and rested my head on my bent knees for a few minutes, trying and failing to breathe with any semblance of normalcy. There was an empty, aching void where my wolf used to be. The adrenaline spike had disappeared, leaving me shaky and unable to stand. If they came back for me while I was in this state, I wasn’t sure I could shoot them.

But my bluff had worked, attested by the sound of a car engine fading off into the night. Eventually, I fished my phone out of my pocket. My wife Janni was in Utah filming a movie, and her mom had gone out there for a visit, so I was on my own on that front. But my alpha was married to a pharmaceuticals magnate in Beverly Hills, and I dialed their number instead. Chambliss, the hyper-efficient butler, answered, and he could tell immediately that something was wrong. Of course, Master Ben, I’ll get her for you.

A few seconds later, I was relieved to hear Megan’s voice. Ben? What happened?

I could barely get it out. He took. Took my wolf. Put it in a jar. Left. Breathing was a chore. Megan, he took my wolf.

She inhaled enough for both of us. Megan had been looking for a cure for her own lycanthropy for years, although she was happier now that she had a pack along with a mate who loved her with or without it. She didn’t have the same attachment to hers that I had to mine. But she was my alpha, and she understood. Come over, Ben. Alex can fix it, you know that.

I didn’t know that, but it was really my only hope. I stared at my trembling hand, which was blurry. Great. Without the wolf, I needed glasses again, because I couldn’t see four feet in front of me without vision correction. I shouldn’t drive.

She read the unspoken need and filled it like the uber-competent personal assistant she was. I’ll send Harris with a car, and a driver for yours too, all right? Her tone was soothing. Easy, Ben. They’ll be there in a little while. Breathe.

Yes, ma’am. My voice was hoarse and shaky. Thank you.

You’re my pack, Ben.

I swallowed hard and hung up after telling her where I was. They’d take at least an hour to get there, LA being what it was. The idea of being stuck alone in my own head was intolerable. After a long moment of hesitation, because like hell did I want to worry Janni, I called her anyway. I wouldn’t tell her about this, she didn’t need it, but–

Ben? She sounded sleepy, and I smacked my forehead when I realized that Utah was an hour ahead of us and I’d probably woken her up. What’s wrong?

Shit, honey, I’m sorry. I just… wanted to hear you. I could breathe again. She was awesome that way.

I miss you too, sweetie. How are your cases going?

I made a strangled noise I hoped she didn’t catch. Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Some surveilling here, some hacking there. How’s the movie?

It’s wonderful. These people are really terrific. That was a relief. They weren’t, always. I should be home in few weeks. A pause. Are you sure you’re okay? You sound… more stressed than usual.

I miss you, mostly. You know. She did. She’d yanked me bodily out of a spiral of depression and hopelessness after Afghanistan, after a purely happenstance meeting, and she was really the only reason I hadn’t put a bullet in my head that night. I still leaned on her far more heavily than I should’ve, but she seemed to like being needed, so it worked for both of us. How’s Pam?

Enjoying the sights. She can use the vacation.

So could I, I didn’t say, but it was what it was–and maybe I could do some good with this case by stopping this bastard before he played his Most Dangerous Game with any more wolves. That idea straightened my spine a little. Well, that’s good. Glad to hold the fort down for her. Tell her I said hello?

Sure.

I felt better. Whatever happened, we’d get through it together, and Janni would pick up my pieces if it tore me apart. She had plenty of experience. Well, honey, I’ll let you get back to sleep. I love you.

Love you too. Be careful?

I huffed out a sound only a psychopath would mistake for a laugh. Always.

Ben? She knew me too well.

It’s all right, honey. Was it a lie when she knew it was a lie? I’d gotten better about not just holding things inside, but I didn’t want to worry her overmuch. We could hash it out later. Go back to sleep.

I’ll call you when I can.

I’d like that. We exchanged love yous and hung up. I took a breath, not a deep one, and leaned my head back against the building, plotting ugly retribution to Franklin.

A purring engine alerted me to the fact that Harris had arrived, and I heaved myself to my feet after a couple of attempts and staggered over to Janni’s little blue Hyundai, which I had brought for this job because it was less conspicuous than my bright yellow Jeep Wrangler. Fat lot of good that had done me. Harris hopped out of the driver’s seat, and one of Alex’s other drivers climbed from the passenger side. Keys are in it, I told him. Harris opened the door for me, which I would never get used to, and I slid into the back seat.

Megan was there. Of course she was. She knew me pretty damn well too, and a blanket was folded on the seat beside her. She shook it out and opened her arms, and I wrapped up in it and around her and buried my nose in her long blonde hair, closing my eyes. She was my alpha. She’d take care of me.

She hugged me and petted my back. Easy, Ben. I gotcha. She sniffed me, frowning. Weird. Can you do any wolf things at all?

Smeller’s dead. Can’t pop claws. Vision’s back to terribad. I shivered under the blanket. "Feels like I’m missing a limb, Megan."

She shuddered, and I wondered if she’d ever really thought through the ramifications of a cure. Alex will figure it out. In fact, I’m pretty sure he won’t rest until he does.

I wonder if you can just bite me again. Is that a thing, can we do that?

I hope we don’t have to. It would be unpleasant for both of us.

Maybe I could cut myself and you could lick it. My voice was tiny and terrified. I don’t like this, Megan.

I know. She petted my back some more, and I tried to consciously relax for the rest of the ride. It was only minimally effective. I couldn’t stop shivering.

Alex greeted us absent-mindedly in his basement lab, running his hand through his unruly dark hair and rubbing his goatee, which was also a mess. He needed a trim again. Tell me everything, Ben, what’d they do to you?

I sank onto the battered leather couch and described the ritual in as much detail as I could. He frowned when I finished. That sounds more mystical than scientific. You can’t shift at all?

I shook my head. Can’t so much as pop claws.

He cringed a little. Can I… get a blood sample?

His answer was a violent flinch. I had issues with syringes, which he knew about. But I also realized that a blood draw might be necessary to figure out exactly what Franklin had done to me. Can we avoid it?

You don’t have to be awake for it; I laid in a supply of happy gas just for you. But let me do a physical first, then we’ll see. I was touched, and my expression must have shown it. He tilted his head. We’re pack, Ben. He wasn’t wolf, but he got the concept, all right. I was incredibly lucky.

I gritted my teeth and peeled out of my shirt. I really didn’t like doing that in front of anyone but Janni, because the Afghani insurgents, in addition to leaving me with a spectacular case of PTSD and an equally spectacular needle phobia, had given me a set of scars that had actually made a child burst into tears the one time I’d been misguided enough to go shirtless at the beach. To say I was sensitive about them was a laughable understatement.

But Alex and Megan had seen the damned things anyway, more than once. Alex shined a light in my eyes and looked in my mouth and listened to my heart and lungs. His lips did a twisty thing and he sat back with a discontented sigh. I really can’t tell anything without a peek at your blood through the ’scope and a DNA scan.

In that order?

Not necessarily. He swabbed the inside of my cheek and put the tissue into his reader. What the– He sat back in the chair and just stared at the screen.

What, Alex? I asked, recoiling against the back of the couch and huddling into the blanket.

You’re still a werewolf, Ben. There went his hand through his hair again. At least, according to your DNA.

I closed my eyes. I wasn’t sure it was relief or not. Awesome. So why can’t I do wolf stuff?

His lips tightened. That, I don’t know. But the more information I have, the better off I am. I swallowed hard and nodded, keeping my eyes closed. The gas is portable. I’ll bring it to you. I lay down, resting my head on the arm of the sofa and trying to remember how to breathe as he fitted the mask over my nose and mouth. Good, Ben. Count back from a hundred for me, all right…?

Icame to under the blanket with a cotton ball taped over the crook of my elbow. Alex sat at his desk, alternately swearing and drinking thirty-year-old scotch straight from the bottle, which wasn’t exactly exotic behavior from him. My mouth tasted like a rabid wharf rat had curled up inside it and died. I hated coming out of anesthesia.

Megan was right there to hand me a glass of water, and I gulped it down gratefully. Any news? I croaked.

Alex banged his head on his keyboard. Not really. According to everything physiological, you’re still a werewolf.

But I can’t– I flexed my hand, trying to pop claws. Nothing. It didn’t even hurt, unlike other times I’d been forcibly prevented from a change. Dammit, Alex.

I don’t know. I’m sorry, Ben.

I stuck my arm out of the blanket toward Megan. Meggie. Please.

I don’t want to bite you, Ben. She looked intensely uncomfortable, but something on my face must have shown my desperation. She carded her fingers through my hair, once, and disappeared behind a shelving unit. A few moments later, a pony-sized blonde wolf stepped out and drooped her ears. Megan’s tail, which normally rode high over her back, had fallen between her hocks.

I wouldn’t