The Impossible Sisters
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About this ebook
Meet John Kable, professional bounty hunter.
His job is simple: he takes money to kill the paranormal creatures that threaten humanity. No questions asked.
When a young woman contacts him asking for help he finds himself drawn into a conspiracy of the strangest sort which brings him up against one of the most powerful men in the city. With no one telling him who to kill he is out of his comfort zone but turning away is not an option.
James Loscombe
James Loscombe has been publishing under various pen names for the last five years. He lives in England with his wife Tamzin and their sons Jude and Oscar.
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The Impossible Sisters - James Loscombe
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1
He held his breath and waited. The creature was a Class 5 which meant that, if he kept perfectly still, she might not consider him food. If he could do nothing and convince her that he was just a piece of furniture then she might turn around and scuttle away.
John Kable itched to grab his pulse gun and shoot the thing but just because it was a Class 5 didn't mean it wasn't quick. He would be lucky if he even managed to take the safety off before it ripped off his head.
The creature was one of the big ones, a couple of metres tall and about the same across. It had four hairy brown legs like a spider and two arms which ended in claws so sharp they could tear through human flesh without causing pain. Not that you wouldn't die, you would just find yourself holding your own intestines before you realised anything had happened. It's head looked a bit like a fly's but with a jaw capable of creating almost human sounds. It was misdirection though because this particular Class 5 could live without a head, it's brain cells were evenly distributed around its fat hairy body.
They were in an old car park and it was 2am. Apart from a few abandoned cars there was nothing around except graffiti'd concrete walls. When he'd come in, John had sent the lone security guard off to get coffee so it was just the two of them now.
The class system had been created by the Blood Hound Institute as a way of classifying paranormal creatures according to intelligence. Despite no longer working for the BHI, John found it a useful shorthand to use. A Class 5 creature was basically an animal, as dumb as a hamster or a guinea pig. They weren't particularly strange but displayed some abnormal abilities that, for one reason or another, it had been decided should be kept a secret from the general population. On the far ends of the scale you had a Class 10 which was insectile, and Class 1 which had human, or better, levels of intellect. A Class 5 shouldn't have been any trouble for him to deal with.
John had been on his way to dinner with Marla Springer when he'd got the call. He would have ignored it, dinner with Marla, and everything that usually followed, was not something he would jeopardise, but it was a confirmed Class 5 and he was running early. He should have been able to neutralise the threat and still be on time. The money for the bounty was too much to resist.
Things hadn't gone quite according to plan, obviously. He had arrived to find the creatures nest had been disturbed by a bunch of drunks. They were already corpses by the time he got there but she was still pissed off.
John watched her stalk across the car park, looking for any sign of movement. He didn't dare even move his eyeballs.
She snorted and growled but she didn't see him. Once she had turned away he could pick up his gun and end it. He had missed dinner and Marla but he could still get home before morning and right now that seemed like a victory.
She started to turn and he let himself exhale. Then his wrist started to vibrate. He glanced down and saw the blue light flash to show that he was getting a message. When he looked back up he saw that the creature had turned in his direction again.
Oh shit,
he sighed.
He threw himself into the air as she came charging towards him. Thanks to the enhancements the BHI had provided he flew about five metres before hitting the ground and rolling to a stop. He pulled out his pulse gun and flipped off the safety.
She skidded to a halt where he had just been, her mouth open and her slimy grey tongue weaving around like a cats tale.
He aimed.
She cried out with a painfully human sound and started running towards him again.
Still on the ground, John waited until he was sure. He couldn't risk missing her now and having to wait another five seconds for the gun to recharge.
He closed his left eye, aimed with his right. Deep breath. The creature getting closer, closer. He breathed out slowly and squeezed the trigger. There was a small amount of resistance, a final safeguard to ensure he didn't fire it by accident. There was no mechanism in the weapon that required the movement, it could just have easily been fired by the swipe of a touch panel or a voice command.
The creature seemed to freeze as the purple plasma surrounded it. It floated backwards and up. John watched, his gun hand fell to his side.
The light around the creature got brighter and brighter. The purple hue became impossible to distinguish. John covered his eyes. He knew the timing of the device like his own heart beat. He closed his eyes.
The air seemed to rip. It was all he could hear. Through his closed eyes he could see the air burning.
When he opened his eyes again the light had gone and so had the creature. He rubbed his head and picked himself up. Dusted his leather jacket and jeans down and put his pulse gun back in the holster he carried under his coat.
John Kable walked away from the car park as if nothing had happened at all. He nodded to the security guard who was returning with his coffee and then he walked home.
Despite his best intentions he didn't make it home before daylight. The birds were starting to chirp as he walked up to the front door, the early morning sun reflecting off the windows. He took his key out of his pocket and went to unlock the door but it was already open.
His hand went to the gun. He pushed open the door slowly and peered inside.
The long hallway was dark and cool. He could see the frames of the paintings hanging on the walls but not the pictures themselves.
You're late.
He spun around with his gun drawn, ready to shoot until his brain finished processing the words and he realised that he recognised the voice. Marla,
he said.
She was wearing a low cut black cocktail dress that hung to the floor. She had her hair down and her black eye liner was slightly smudged. She looked like she'd been asleep. We had a date mister,
she said. She looked at the gun which he was still aiming at her. Are you going to shoot me?
He smiled and put the gun away. Didn't ask her how she got inside, with Marla