BooksBarbecue
Back Monster Hunter Nemesis Save as PDF
Chapters (23)
  1. PART 1
  2. CHAPTER 1
  3. CHAPTER 2
  4. CHAPTER 3
  5. CHAPTER 4
  6. CHAPTER 5
  7. CHAPTER 6
  8. CHAPTER 7
  9. CHAPTER 8
  10. CHAPTER 9
  11. PART 2
  12. CHAPTER 10
  13. CHAPTER 11
  14. CHAPTER 12
  15. CHAPTER 13
  16. CHAPTER 14
  17. PART 3
  18. CHAPTER 15
  19. CHAPTER 16
  20. CHAPTER 17
  21. CHAPTER 18
  22. CHAPTER 19
  23. CHAPTER 20

The werewolf lurched toward him, teeth snapping. Franks fed him one arm and felt the crunch as Harbinger chomped it to the bone. But then Franks used his elbow to begin hammering the werewolf’s head into mush. Thud. Even with his blood drizzling from dozens of wounds, Franks’ blows were slow, methodical, but still incredibly powerful. Thud. Harbinger sunk his claws deep into Franks’ abdomen and began pulling things out. Thud. Neither of them was going anywhere until this was over. It was a race to see if Franks would die from blood loss and organ failure before Harbinger was beaten to death.

Then they both got hit by a truck.

The approaching noise of the engine hadn’t even registered. The steel shutters over the ballroom doors flew apart as blinding headlights filled the space. The impact of the front bumper knocked him and the werewolf apart.

Franks found himself flat on his back on the other side of the dance floor. He tried to sit up, but his body was too broken. Those headlights were scalding his one barely working eye, so he tried to lift a hand to shield it, only to discover that with the impact, Harbinger had kept that arm. Franks glared at the bloody stump. “Damn.”

Car doors slammed. A female figure moved in front of the headlights. It was Shackleford. “Franks is over here. He’s in pieces!”

He coughed up a knot of blood. “Sorry we messed up your house.” That made him realize just how bad a shape he was in. He rarely apologized. “Good fight though.”

Then Franks died.

PART 3

PART 3

The Contract

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 15

Now Franks remembered how he’d ended up in the small white room.

The interrogator was studying him. “That’s correct, Franks. Your mortal body has been ruined.”

“So that’s it?”

“Like I said before, that’s not my call.”

When he’d been told that this was going straight to the top, Franks had not realized just how high up they’d been talking about. “Send me back.”

“And why should He? You let your pride and your anger get in the way of fulfilling your part of the covenant.”

“Because I’m not done yet!” Franks roared and slammed his fists into the table. The fact that he didn’t so much as dent the surface told him he was no longer in the mortal world.

The interrogator sat there, studying Franks dispassionately. “That’s not your decision to make. Haven’t you learned anything over the last three centuries? You’ve had far more time to learn than a regular mortal is granted, and still, you expect patience? You expect mercy, yet never grant it. You ask for charity, but are incapable of dispensing any. Justice demands that you be sent back to Hell.”

Franks leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “You’re not a regular interrogator, are you?”