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

by Craig Halloran

  “You fool! You’ll get yourself killed!”

  The bullets blasted through bits and pieces of the gargoyles. Stone flesh plastered the walls with dusty gargoyle guts. These weren’t like the smaller one he’d fought before that had turned into powder with one shot. These were vibrant and living. Powerful and quick.

  Like apes, they overpowered Smoke in a violent attack. One gargoyle caught him in a bear hug from behind and squeezed him like a huge stone vice, trying to make Smoke drop his pistols. In front of him, the second gargoyle’s clawed hands tried to rip out his throat.

  Smoke pulled his knees up and launched a kick into the attacking gargoyle’s chest, slamming it back into the wall. It came at him again, a stone cold automaton with death in its black eyes. Smoke managed to squeeze off two shots and blow one of its hands into pieces, but the relentless gargoyle’s other hand clamped around his neck and started to crush his windpipe.

  He jammed his pistol in the gargoyle’s ribs and kept firing off shot after shot. Bullets tore through the monster and into the ceiling. Smoke kept squeezing the trigger.

  Blue-tip. Blue-tip. Blue-tip. Blue-tip. Blue-tip. Blue-tip. Blue-tip. Brace yourself, Smoke.

  He fired again.

  Red-tip!

  The bullet entered the stone gargoyle. Smoke squeezed his eyes shut and hit the floor.

  Boom!

  The entire tunnel shook. The gargoyle turned to chunks of debris and dust. Smoke was lying on the floor with his head pounding and ears ringing. The last gargoyle still had him locked up. Smoke couldn’t get a good angle to get a shot off. He climbed up on his knees, got his feet under him, and thrust himself backward into the wall, ramming the gargoyle into the wall again and again as hard as he could.

  Its grip didn’t loosen. It tightened.

  Smoke’s lungs burned like fire. His busted ribs that had healed up were sore again. Feeling himself start to black out, he summoned his reserves. With a growling scream, he rushed toward the wall, lowering his head at the last moment, and sandwiching the gargoyle between him and the wall at full force, with jarring impact.

  The gargoyle’s grip loosened.

  Smoke scurried away.

  The gargoyle lashed out, grabbed Smoke by the ankle, and pulled him in. The monster opened up its mouth and chomped its fangs.

  Smoke stuffed the gun’s barrel down its throat. “Enjoy your meal.” He squeezed the trigger.

  Boom!

  Covered in dust and concrete gargoyle guts, Smoke swayed up to his feet. Wiping the dust from his eyes, he surveyed his surroundings. Vormus was nowhere to be seen. Smoke turned and faced the door. A huge deadbolt sealed it shut.

  If anything moves on the other side that isn’t Sid, I’m killing it.

  Pistol ready in one hand and holstering the other, he pulled the heavy deadbolt back with a grunt. The door shoved inward. Sid sat on the bed of a finely decorated and well-lit room with stony walls. Her dark eyes were expressionless. Her athletic form had thinned. Her chin hung a little. “Smoke?”

  “Who else would make a midnight house call in a place like this?”

  “I-I thought it was you, but I just can’t believe it.” She pushed off the bed, staring into his face. “You shouldn’t have done this. You didn’t have to.”

  “Yes I did.” He holstered his other pistol. Deep in Sid’s eyes something wasn’t right. He could sense her worry, fear, and anxiety. She’d been held captive for a long time. Given everything she wanted, but threatened constantly at the same time. Smoke loved her. He’d do anything for her.

  But he wasn’t a fool. He sensed Stockholm Syndrome in her, and he knew that snapping her out of it wouldn’t be easy. He extended his hand. “You can be free of here, Sid. Once and for all. I need you.”

  Her gaze drifted away. “I don’t know. It’s dangerous. The others...” She found his eyes with hers. “I need to get dressed.”

  She was wearing a long maroon nightgown and looking as radiant as ever. She made her way over to a chest of drawers and pulled it open. She slid a pair of jeans on, grabbed a knit shirt, and with her back to him, dropped the gown and slipped the shirt on. But then she slowly slouched, turned her head, and looked back at him. “I can’t go.”

  Throat tightening, he said, “Why?”

  “I don’t have any shoes.”

  “I see some under the bed.”

  “Oh.” Listlessly, she sat on the bed, picked the shoes up one by one, and put them on. And then she sat there, staring at him with a blank expression on her face.

  Smoke noticed a bottle of wine on the nightstand and an empty glass that she had been drinking from.

  She might be drugged.

  “We’ve got to go, Sid.”

  “Okay.”

  Smoke approached, reached out, and touched her hand. He rubbed her palm with his thumb.

  Her head snapped up, and she looked right in his eyes. “John, John.” Tears flowed down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight. Her body shuddered with heavy sobs. “John, John.”

  He held her fast. The warmth of her body sent fire through his veins. “I’m here, Sid. I’m always here.”

  She beat him on his back. “I can’t believe it’s you. I thought I’d never see you again. I really did. I knew Kane wouldn’t allow it. Ever. He’s a monster, John. He wants to turn me into one of them. I’ve been down here since I told him no.”

  “They didn’t break you, Sid. You held on.” He caressed her face in his palms. “That’s all that matters. I’m here now.”

  “I’m starving,” she said.

  “What are you hungry for?”

  A spark showed in her eyes. “At least a hundred pancakes.”

  “I know a great place.”

  Strength returned to her voice. “Then what are we waiting for.” She pulled the gun from his holster and fired.

  Smoke turned around just as a deader collapsed on the floor. Nodding his head, he said, “That’s my girl.”

  Looking at the gun, she said, “That felt good, and who are you calling ‘girl’?”

  The tunnel was crammed full of three wandering deaders armed with hatchets and knives.

  Smoke eased in front of Sid. “Stay behind me.”

  “I can handle myself. Believe me, I’ve got a lot to let out.”

  “I know,” he said, putting himself between her and the oncoming deaders, “but I don’t want to see a scratch on that great body of yours.”

  She fired again, dropping another deader. “Don’t you think action’s sexy?”

  “True, just don’t lose any limbs. You’re going to need them all.”

  “For what?”

  “Our wedding night.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Knives in hand, Smoke surged forward. “You only have a few blue-tips left in that clip. The last three are explosive. I’m down to one last shot.” He waded into the throng of deaders, dodging lazy chops and running his blades into their hearts.

  A deader dove on his legs and drove him into a wall. Another one plowed into his body. The third brought a hatchet down at his head.

  Blam!

  Sid’s bullet ripped through the attacker’s side, dropping it truly dead on the floor.

  Smoke punched knife holes in the other two, sending them to more permanent deaths. Racing forward, they were back in the dungeon. Three skeletons from the nearest cell were reanimated. Two lunged for Smoke, and the other was swinging chains at them. Smoke slipped between the bony fingers stretching for his neck and drove a knife into one skeleton’s chest. Its jaw clattered like strange laughter, but it kept on fighting.

  “Great.”

  Sid opened fire on the chain-swinging skeleton, which wore rotting buckskin for clothes. Just when the chains looked like they might reach the two of them and do some heavy damage, the skeleton blew apart into shards of bone and the chains dropped harmlessly to the cold stone floor.

  “Guess that’s it for the blue-tips.”

  Frustrated, S
moke put away his knives, grabbed the skeleton that was trying to claw him to death, wrenched the arm free, and busted the skeleton in the head with it.

  Whack! Whack! Whack!

  He got ahold of both remaining skeletons and rammed them into the wall. Their bodies shattered and collapsed on the floor. One’s jaw was still moving. Smoke kicked it down the hall. “Shut up.”

  Another knot of deaders and skeletons came right at them. Sid unloaded two well-placed shots in the bodies of the deaders.

  Smoke covered his ears.

  Boom! Boom!

  The deaders exploded. The concussive force blew the skeletons too.

  “I think that’s all of them,” he said.

  A little dazed, she shook her head. “Too bad. That was feeling good. I just wish Kane was in the sights of my pistol.”

  “We’ll get him. Come on.” Smoke pushed through the dust and debris and headed up the twisting stairs.

  Exiting the door under the stairs into the foyer, they were both greeted with an echoing round of applause. Kane and Vormus were standing in the foyer doing all the clapping. Smoke and Sid froze in their tracks.

  “My, look what we have here, a brave and noble rescue attempt.” Kane eyed Smoke. “We had an agreement, Mister Smoke. Did we not?”

  “Screw your agreement!” Sid fired her pistol at Kane.

  Click! Click! Click!

  “What’s the matter, no more bullets, my little muse?” Kane said.

  Smoke drew his gun on Kane. “I still have some.”

  Kane stepped forward. “By all means, Mister Smoke, shoot me.”

  Ka-Blam!

  The bullet whizzed straight through Kane and blew up the main doors behind him. Kane was fine. The red-tip had passed through him like he was a ghost.

  “My, you are an expensive enemy, Mister Smoke. Those doors cost me a fortune to have manufactured.” He sighed. “Well, I’m sure it’s just another tax deduction, kind of like the loss I incurred at the Red Mark Materials salvage yard. I’m rethinking taking your skin for that.”

  Smoke took out a knife and tossed it across the floor. “Come and get it.”

  Vormus and Kane laughed. They were joined by some men in pea coats and the giant of a man who wasn’t one of the two Smoke had seen last time. There were some deaders too, but they weren’t laughing. They stood stiff and silent, eyes gleaming with the will to strike.

  “So it was all just a game, huh?” Smoke said.

  “The classic double-cross,” Vormus replied. “And you fell for it.”

  “I had my suspicions, but it was a convincing act, seeing how you killed so many of his people.”

  “Well, as I said, they are just people. More than seven billion to choose from. So easily bought, and it’s so wonderful to stage these things.” Vormus held his finger up. “But it wasn’t entirely meant to be so. At first, I did have vengeance against my brother in mind. We talked. He convinced me otherwise, but I did owe him, so I agreed to set up this little game. It’s been delightful. Search them.”

  Two pea coats patted them over and stripped Smoke and Sid of all their weapons, leaving them both destitute of an assault opportunity.

  “Oh, the games we play with these mortals. Isn’t it delightful?” Kane said to Vormus.

  “I’d almost forgotten how much fun it was.”

  “It was a shame you had to kill Mums, though.”

  “Eh,” Vormus said with a shrug, “she was quite old and a bit senile. I’d be happy to gift you another whimsical old person if you like. There are plenty of willing subjects in those nursing homes.”

  “Oh, no need. Perhaps Sidney can be that whimsical old dame a few generations from now. Of course, I think she’ll turn before then. After all, the last hope she had on this earth is about to die before her eyes.” Kane turned to the giant of a man wearing a heavy-duty grey jumpsuit. “Fetch the swords.”

  Through gritted teeth, Sid said, “I’ll die first.”

  “Oh no, you won’t,” Kane said. “I won’t let you. You see John, it is true that you have been duped. I had my brother come and rattle your cage, but probably not for the reasons you suspect. No, I think Sid’s faith in you is what is holding her back from turning over to me.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Smoke said.

  “Oh, he’s humble. Humble and rugged. How charming.” Kane slapped his brother on the shoulder. “Why can’t we be more like that?”

  “It’s hard to be humble when you rule everything.”

  “True enough. True enough.” Kane stroked his moustache. “Though—and you might find this hard to believe—I was humble once. Back when I was a child, I begged for food. I told people everything they wanted to hear. ‘You are pretty. Handsome.’ I shined shoes. Threw out the bath water. I did every imaginable menial chore. And what did it earn me? Coppers and whippings. Coppers and whippings.” He snorted the air. “Hah! What a grand character builder! It made me who I am today.”

  “It’s a shame,” Sid said.

  “What’s a shame,” Kane replied, “that they didn’t love me? Care for me better?”

  “No, it sounds like they didn’t beat you hard enough, you evil bastard.”

  Kane huffed.

  The giant of a man returned, carrying a large wooden case in his arms. He held it in front of Kane.

  The leader of the shifters unlatched the case and produced two magnificent swords. He held them up on display. “Mister Smoke, I challenge you to a duel.”

  CHAPTER 34

  “I accept,” Smoke said, eyeing the swords. They weren’t the typical fare one would expect for a duel. These weren’t lightweight fencing foils, but rather heavy Arabian scimitars—wicked curved blades. Black handled and steel trimmed, the heavy blades could easily cut off a man’s head. “On one condition.”

  “And what condition would that be?” Kane said.

  “Even if I lose, you let Sid go free.”

  “Oh sure, why not. You’ll be dead anyway.”

  Sid squeezed Smoke’s arm. “John, no. You can’t do this. You saw what he did.”

  “I know.” Smoke didn’t understand if Kane was a ghost or what, but he’d seen a bullet pass right through him. It seemed the most powerful shifters had an assortment of special powers. Vormus could fly, hypnotize, and maybe even turn invisible. It made Smoke leery of what else Kane could do. He leaned in toward Sid for a kiss. “This might be farewell.”

  “Now?” She glanced at all the staring people. “You’re kissing me now?”

  “Oh, go ahead and kiss him,” Vormus said with delight. “You Americans are so over the top about things. You act like everything you do will be in a movie. Yes, kiss her, and then tell her, ‘Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn!’”

  Everyone that could laugh did laugh. Even Sid and Smoke.

  In a low voice, Smoke said, “Just kiss me.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  He pleaded, “Please.”

  She moved in closer to him. “Okay.”

  He put his arm around her waist, brought her in close, and barely whispered in her ear, “They work quick. You’ll have to chew it.”

  “What?”

  He kissed her. It was a deep kiss. A probing kiss. An—

  “Awkward,” Vormus said. “My, it looks like he’s tickling her tonsils. Grotesque.”

  Laughter started again.

  Smoke broke off the kiss.

  Panting for breath, Sid made a sour face and whispered beneath the clamor of the crowd, “You just regurgitated a super vitamin into my mouth, didn’t you.”

  “Yup.”

  “You’re so gross.”

  “I know.”

  “If both of you have finished turning everyone’s stomachs,” Kane said, banging the swords together, “I’d like to get the slaughter started. Vormus, do you have the film rolling?”

  “It’s not film.” Vormus pointed at the man on the balcony, who held a camcorder to his eye. “It’s digital technology. Honestly, people really ne
ed to stop saying the word ‘film.’ There’s no film anymore.”

  “Film or digital, it doesn’t make a difference to me. I just want to give our allies a show.” Kane tossed a sword over to Smoke, who snatched it out of the air. “I’m even going to let you keep your little scuba suit on. It will not increase your chances of survival, but you might last seconds longer. Vormus, secure Sidney. And Sidney, try to keep down to a minimum decibel level any screaming that might be brought forth. We get a horrible echo in here that makes things so awfully loud. I don’t want to mess up the sound quality of the picture.”

  Vormus secured Sid in his arms and showed Smoke a teasing look with his fangs.

  Smoke tested the heft of his sword and thumbed its edge. The blade was razor-sharp, but it would tire his arm quickly. It was made for a far bigger man than him, and he could get both hands on the handle. He glanced up at the man with the camera for a moment. He’d almost forgotten that the shifters had a zeal for recording their atrocities. Swift Venison the Were-Rat had been caught doing it. Smoke assumed the films went to other shifters, straight to the top, to someone like Kane.

  Perhaps he’s not at the top of the food chain after all. Great Dane, then who is?

  Kane snapped his fingers. “Before we get started, I need to test my steel, so as to make sure it is in good order.” He pointed at one of the pea coat guards. “You, front and center. Take off your coat and turn your back to me.”

  The man did as he was commanded. Sweat erupted on his brow. A pleading look came to life in his eyes.

  Behind the guard, Kane said, “Hold your arms up over your head. Ah, that’s good. Steady. Steady now.” He gripped the sword with two hands, cocked back, and swung.

  Slice!

  Sid gasped.

  Kane had cut the man clean in half. Blood spurted all over the floor.

  “Now that’s sharp. Very sharp. Oh, what a mess you people make when you die. Perhaps I should have chosen a deader. Try not to slip, John Smoke. Now, everybody back up. Give us some room—and move this corpse aside.”

  Smoke’s eyes met Sid’s. He could see the concern in hers. Kane was a killer who wanted to break Sid’s spirit. Humiliating Smoke by slaughtering him in battle just might do it. He gave Sid a reassuring nod.