Monster Hunter Bloodlines by Larry Correia

Author:Larry Correia [Correia, Larry]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Urban, Action & Adventure, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781982125493
Google: R6sGzgEACAAJ
Publisher: Baen
Published: 2021-08-03T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

Skippy landed in a nearby field to pick us up. As soon as we were airborne Earl handed out assignments. Messages were sent and plans were made. I also noticed that Earl didn’t give Sonya a headset so that she couldn’t listen in. Unless she was excellent at reading lips or had supernatural hearing, she would be shit out of luck. I knew Earl liked her, but I could tell he was genuinely pissed off about her threatening Milo. That had crossed a line. I was still curious what her sob story was going to be about why she needed the money so bad, but that could wait.

We talked strategy during the first part of the helicopter ride back to Alabama, but after that I took a nap. I’d had one hell of a day. Once the adrenaline wore off, the aches and pains started. I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open. Sleeping this soon after being that close to a thermobaric warhead going off probably wasn’t good for my brain, but I’d see Gretchen when we got home. She’d grind up some roadkill and leaves, make a smoothie, do some orc magic on it, and I’d be good as new. Probably.

The inside of a Russian MI-24 Hind is extremely loud and not exactly comfy, but I had a lot of practice getting sleep whenever I could squeeze it in. The trick when riding with Skippy was unplugging your headphones so you could no longer hear his heavy metal playlist. I managed to get a power nap in before waking up as we reached the MHI compound. I love flying home at night, because out the window it’s just miles and miles of pitch-black forest, until all of a sudden, boom, there’s this huge fenced-in paramilitary compound, with multiple buildings, hangars, and a world-class shooting range. It’s amazing what you can hide in the Alabama woods. Skippy put us down with his usual gentle touch at the end of the runway.

There was a contingent of masked orcs waiting there to meet us. That was Skippy’s ground crew. Thankfully they had one of their healers with them, and she took a look at my arm. She wasn’t Gretchen—Skippy’s head wife and all-around best healer ever was otherwise occupied—but I’d take an orc healer over a regular hospital any day. She growled at the cauterization Coslow had left on my arms, pronounced it “trash magic,” gave me a paste made out of smashed-up bugs and flowers to rub on the dog bite, a gag-inducing vinegar with some dirt in it to drink to “make bone crack fix” and told me to take some Ibuprofen for my headache. While she worked on me, she complained in broken English about how humans were squishy and our skulls were soft, not “strong like urks.” She might not have been Gretchen, but she certainly had learned Gretchen’s no-nonsense bedside manner.

Sonya was escorted to one of the guest rooms, and Holly discreetly

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