The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 6 thru 10 (Smoke Special Edition Book 2)

by Craig Halloran

  Sid being missing wasn’t the only thing aggravating him. There was also Reginald the doppelganger. The shifting fiend had beaten him like a drum, and he didn’t like getting beaten. It left a foul taste in his mouth. Sure, everyone else could be beaten, but not him. Not Smoke. He was special for a mortal. He’d always known so.

  Miles down the road south of DC, he geared down on the next exit to enter the stretch of road that led to his service-garage apartment. The tall pines he passed were stark on either side of him. They always had been, but it was even more ominous when the full moon glowed over the horizon.

  Shifters.

  On nights like this, Mal Carlson said, the shifters were at full power. On a night like this, they would be causing trouble. Killing. Tormenting. Humiliating.

  Evil does what it does.

  He turned the car off the main road down the long stretch that led to his driveway. Rounding the bend, he found himself face to face with a black helicopter that had landed between his car and his apartment.

  He slammed the Camaro into reverse.

  Two Humvees burst out of the woods behind him, blocking him in.

  He shoved the Camaro into park.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  CHAPTER 3

  Hands glued to the steering wheel, Smoke remained inside his car. In truth, there wasn’t any reason to run. No one had exited the Humvees. Nobody was pointing a muzzle at him. It was just the Camaro, the Humvees, and the helicopter that sat like a bird of prey, no movement at all.

  And that full moon.

  Smoke’s eyes scanned the details of the chopper. It was shiny black without any distinct markings on it. There weren’t any logos from The Drake. No deaders. No shifting monsters or men bigger than two NBA players. Things were just cold and black. Odd. Mysterious.

  I guess they want me to come to them.

  He popped the door open and got out. There was a pistol in the back of his pants and a knife inside each pant leg. After casually closing the door, he approached the helicopter the same way. It was sealed up. No one sat in the cockpit. He peered around the tail of the chopper and spied the front door of his apartment. It was cracked open.

  Breaking and entering. Illegal. I might have to blow someone away for trespassing.

  He pulled out his gun and approached cautiously, peering into the front room from a distance. Chimney smoke was rolling out of the black pipe of a wood-burning stove he’d put in years ago. The summer evening was too warm to warrant burning anything for warmth.

  Jaw clenched, he was headed for his front door when a figure shuffled out through it. Ranging and a little stooped in the shoulder, its slack jaw marked it for a deader. It wore a pea coat and slacks. Had that dead look in its sunken eyes.

  Smoke dotted its chest with his laser sight.

  “Easy now,” said a familiar voice. A man, well dressed and slender in build, came outside and stepped right into the laser. It was the doppelganger, Reginald. “We have business, Mister Smoke. Please, come inside.”

  “You’re inviting me into my own home. That’s funny.” Smoke stuffed his pistol into the back of his pants. “Real funny. I never took you for a comedian, Reggie.”

  Reggie was a fit man, good-looking, cool and calculating in demeanor. He wore an expensive golf shirt and slacks with a little room to grow in. “Actually, I did do a shtick in Vaudeville back in the day. You look to be doing well for a man I thought I’d beaten to death. How are the ribs?”

  Smoke headed inside his own place, feeling like a guest and hoping the ever slightest that Sid would be in there. She wasn’t, but a dazzling pair of legs did catch his eye.

  It was Sid’s sister, Allison. Full-bodied and gorgeous as ever, she sat on his sofa wearing a short skintight black dress with tiny sequins woven into it. Diamond and ruby-laden earrings hung from her lobes, their radiance oozing with the fortune of kings. A playful smile started on her full lips when she saw him.

  Getting up, she said, “Hi, John.” She pressed her body into his and gave him a firm hug, her soft warm lips landing on his neck. “You look well. Very well.”

  He started to speak.

  But she put her finger to his lips. “My sister is fine. That’s why I’m here, to give you assurance about that. But let’s not spoil the moment with thoughts of her. I want all your attention.”

  “Please, Mister Smoke,” said Reggie, “sit down. Have a glass of wine. It’s from our cellar, French, 1763.”

  “You know, your treating me like a guest in my own home is starting to get under my skin.” Smoke picked up a bottle with an old weathered label and chucked it out the front door. “Now, Reggie, can I offer you a cup of nothing?”

  Allison’s beautiful face darkened. “I was drinking that. It was a ten-thousand-dollar bottle.”

  “It’s nothing.” Reggie snapped his fingers. “Harvey!”

  The deader stepped inside the door frame.

  “Another bottle of wine from the chopper. And make it quick, you stupid dead thing.”

  “I wouldn’t bother,” Smoke said, not hiding his irritation. “You won’t be staying long. Whatever you showed up for, make it quick. And remember, you’re in my castle.”

  “Castle?” Looking around, Reginald huffed a laugh, sat down on one of the chairs, and crossed his legs. “It’s far from even a quaint establishment. Smells like an old grease pit. I never monkeyed around with cars and things.”

  “I find it sexy.” Allison leaned forward in her seat, smiling at Smoke.

  The deader stepped into the doorframe with a bottle of wine hanging in its grip.

  Smoke pulled out his gun and fired.

  Bang!

  The bottle burst into a thousand pieces.

  Reginald didn’t flinch.

  Allison cursed, “Stop doing that, dammit!”

  “My castle, my rules. No booze.”

  “You’re absolutely no fun at all. It’s no surprise my sister’s so fond of you.”

  Smoke ignored her and addressed Reginald. “Does your dirty deader know how to shovel glass into a dust pan?” He walked over to his kitchenette and fetched a broom and dust pan from the tall cupboard. He took them to the deader. “Well?”

  “Clean it up, Harvey,” Reginald said. “Mister Smoke, you and I have business to discuss.”

  Smoke crossed his arms over his chest. “Such as?”

  “Well, you’re a bounty hunter, and we’d like you to track someone down for us. Actually, not just one someone, but a small group of thugs we want eliminated.” Reginald pulled out a cigarette case, opened it, and put one in his mouth. “Care for one?”

  “You might want to refrain from lighting up.”

  Reginald flipped open the top of a black Zippo and flicked the primer that produced a flame. “Why? This clearly isn’t a Smoke Free zone.”

  Allison laughed. “You’re such a clever man, Reginald.”

  “True.” The doppelganger lit his cigarette, took a puff, and blew fumes into the air. “I think the fragrance enhances your abode’s stale character.” He put the lighter away. “Now where were we?”

  “You were about to put out your cigarette.” Smoke still had his pistol in hand.

  Allison leaned forward again. “Ooh, I like the tension.”

  Matter-of-factly, Reginald said, “You can’t kill me, Smoke. A million of these cigarettes can’t kill me. Trust me, I know. Now put that toy away, have a seat by the pretty lady, and let’s talk about things.”

  Smoke stowed his gun, walked over to Reginald, and plucked the cigarette from his mouth, then made his way to the buck stove and tossed it inside. He walked back over to the couch and sat down.

  “Now we can talk.”

  Allison scooted close beside him.

  “You’re a brave man, John Smoke,” said Reginald. “Perhaps a little too brave for your own good. I thought you’d have learned not to trifle with me by now.”

  “In my house, I don’t compromise for anybody.”

  “You
really will have to learn to compromise at some point. Unlike me, John, you’re mortal. You need to realize your limitations.” Reginald cleared his throat. “My, I sure could have used some wine, but let’s get back to business. Mister Smoke, we want you to hunt some people down for us.” Reginald tossed a black file on the coffee table. “Track them down and kill them.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Smoke laid his eyes on the file. It was interesting in how it resembled the files from the Black Slate. He wondered if this was The Drake’s own version of what the FBI had. Perhaps it was all the same. He picked it up and looked inside. There was a picture, a black-and-white 8 x 10 photo of several men with haunting looks. He squinted his eyes. There was something strange about the picture.

  “What do you see, John?” Reginald said. He sucked his teeth. “Go on, tell me.”

  Allison nuzzled her warm body right up against Smoke’s some more. She rested her chin on his shoulder. He didn’t mind it, not at all. Her perfume coupled with her form was intoxicating. It was like she emanated pheromones that ignited lust.

  He scooted away. “I don’t see anything special.”

  “Really? You don’t see anything special?” Reginald said. “Why, I’m surprised.”

  Smoke wasn’t being completely honest. Sure, he didn’t see anything special to him, but he did see something. There was another man in the group. His body was outlined by the rest of them. It was a picture with one person missing. That person was invisible.

  “Surprise can be a good thing.” Smoke closed the file and set it on the table. “So go ahead, fill me in on all the details.”

  “I want you to kill those men.”

  “I’m not an assassin.”

  “Oh, you won’t be killing them, killing them. They’re already technically dead.”

  Allison put her hand on Smoke’s thigh.

  Doing his best to ignore her, he said to Reginald, “You have plenty of resources. Why me?”

  “At Drake, we like to make use of different resources so we can keep our hands clean. I decided to use you because you want to see Sidney. If you take care of this problem, then the two of you can be reunited once more. Doesn’t that sound swell, Mister Smoke? You get to be the hero. A knight in shining armor.”

  “I’m already that.” Smoke took Allison’s hand off his thigh and stood up. “And if you think I’m going to do this hunt over a woman, you have me all wrong. I want money. I don’t do anything for free.”

  “Ooh, a mercenary in tainted armor,” Reginald said, “I like that. A nice twist. What kind of finances are we talking about, John?” He glanced around. “Judging by your environment, I think twenty thousand is more than reasonable. It will keep these florescent lights on. And maybe you can buy some more unicorn shirts.”

  “Two hundred thousand. Half up front.”

  “Surely you jest.” Reginald stood up from his seat. “That’s a bit steep.”

  “This, coming from a man who drinks ten-thousand-dollar bottles of wine? I don’t think so. The offer is on the table. I suggest you take it before it goes up to a million.”

  “I think you’re a decent bluffer, Mister Smoke,” Reginald said. “I know you’re dying to see Miss Shaw.”

  “If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.”

  “Allison, go and get him the money, if you please.” After she left, Reginald stood in front of Smoke, looking up into his eyes. “You want another crack at me pretty bad, don’t you.”

  “I just want you to get out of here.”

  “I see. Well, keep practicing. I could always use a sparring partner. Not that I need to stay sharp, but just because I enjoy beating the hell out of people.” He removed a business card from his front shirt pocket and held it in front of Smoke’s eyes. “It’s a lead.”

  Smoke took it. “Sounds like you already know where your enemies are.”

  “I always know everything I need to know.” Reginald patted Smoke on the chest. “See you soon, Mister Smoke, and be careful. This brood you’re going to cross, there a little different.” He glared at Harvey the deader, who was still sweeping up the broken glass. “Put that down, you dead-headed buffoon.”

  From inside, Smoke watched Harvey and Reginald board the chopper.

  Allison emerged a few seconds later with a satchel and came back. She closed the door behind her and said with a playful smile, “Alone at last.”

  Smoke’s throat tightened. He wasn’t one to charm easily, but Allison’s Venus-like figure could melt a typical man’s limbs. With a dry tongue, he said, “Just leave the money and go. I have work to do.”

  Approaching with want in her eyes, she said, “All work and no play? Please, just give me a little something. After all, you owe me for destroying my wine.” She locked her arms around his waist and pulled him tight. “Kiss me. You want to, I can see it in your eyes.”

  That’s an understatement. A huge one.

  His longing for Sid seemed to amplify with Allison’s presence. Something about her made his knees a little weak. Searching for a way out, he said, “Tell me how Sid’s doing.”

  Running her hands down his back, she kissed his neck. “Oh, don’t spoil the moment. Just take me, John.”

  He got ahold of her wrists and gently pushed her away. “Not without Sid’s permission.”

  “Will you quit saying her name? I don’t want to hear it.”

  He searched Allison’s eyes. “She is okay, isn’t she?”

  “Well that’s the whole point of this mission, isn’t it? Do what Reginald says and you’ll get to see her.” She rolled her eyes. “But don’t expect a rosy welcome. Sid’s changed, you know. She’s tasted the Wine of the Kings now. She’s changed.”

  The chopper’s engines whirred with life.

  “Looks like your ride is leaving.” Smoke walked over to the door and opened it up. “I don’t think you want to miss it.”

  Chin up, Allison stormed out. “Your faithfulness is your folly.”

  “No, it’s my strength.”

  He closed the door and watched through the window as the chopper took off and the Humvees departed. At long last, his Camaro was the only thing left outside. The chopper became a speck in the dark sky and vanished. He wished he’d shot it down. If Allison hadn’t been aboard, he would have done just that. Killed them all and found Sid later.

  He got a Coke from the fridge, cracked it open, and sat down on the sofa. He stared at the file, but a vision of Allison was burned in his head. Her scent lingered. He took a swallow of Coke and cleared his dry throat.

  Crom, what a woman.

  CHAPTER 5

  “It’s a game, John, just another game,” said Samantha, also known as Phat Sam. She was sitting at Smoke’s computer desk, typing away. Her husband Guppy, built like a tree stump, stood right behind her, nodding. She finished by saying, “It’s just one thing after another with these twisted people. Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

  Smoke prided himself on being able to find anyone, but Sid’s departure had been troublesome. He didn’t have any idea where she was, and he’d been looking, too. He just found himself at one dead end after the other. Things were quiet. Too quiet. He flipped over the business card that Reginald had given him. Perhaps the people in the black file had something to do with that.

  “Did you find The Guillotine?” he said as he laced up his boots.

  “Oh yeah, no problem there,” Sam said. “It’s one of those dungeon bars. Real creepy place near the Potomac. We’ll need to get a little gothic if we’re going in there. I hate gothic. I look good in gothic, but I hate it.”

  “You look good in everything,” Guppy said, rubbing her shoulders, “and I wouldn’t mind seeing the gothic thing. It’s been awhile.”

  “Yeah, I think you had hair last time I dressed that way,” she said, patting his hand. Her bracelets rattled on her wrists. “But I like that shiny head better. It’s like a beacon of love. I’m drawn to it.”

  Guppy stopped massaging her shoulders and pi
cked up the picture of the men from the black file. “So John, are you really going to kill these guys?” Looking at the pic, he tilted his head to the side. “They have strange markings on them.”

  “I noticed that.” Smoke finished lacing up his boots and started loading one of the automatic pistols on the table. There was a sniper rifle too, and the stack of Reginald’s money. “I’ll figure out what they are first, and if I have to waste them, I’ll waste them. Besides, The Guillotine is only a clue. Or a set-up. I’ll play it through.”

  “We’re all going,” Sam said. “I’m curious.”

  Smoke wasn’t going to argue with her. Once his half-sister made her mind up, there was no changing it. He just hoped this wild goose chase wouldn’t be too dangerous. He didn’t have much doubt that Reginald was screwing with him. At least he’d gotten a hundred thousand dollars out of him. He opened up the black file and flipped over the photo. There was some information on it. Names. Places. Contact numbers for Reginald and other high-ranking people at The Drake. Vague stuff.

  The beginnings of a new game.

  “Hey, John?” Sam spun around in her chair and faced him. “You might want to come see this. I have something on that picture you sent. Pretty weird.”

  He got up and made his way over.

  The picture was on the biggest monitor, the one where the creepy goons surrounded an invisible figure. Sam had filled it in with an eerie green that revealed the large man in the center. Some of the details were still filling in.

  Leaning forward, Guppy said, “Is he wearing an invisibility suit or something?”

  “Mal says they have the technology.” Sam leaned toward the screen. “But look, his hair is showing. At least, I think that’s hair, the way it’s flowing. How can you make your hair invisible?”

  Guppy huffed a laugh. “You just have to be special.”

  Smoke studied the image on the screen. “Those marks on their arms are interesting. Are they brands?”

  Sam zoomed in on one man’s forearm. “Either that, or some 3D tattoo art. Ew, it looks like a nest of eggs or a bunch of different eyes. Creepy. It’s got tentacles. Without a closer view, I’d have thought it was just a mole.”