The electrodes ran tremors through his body, giving him a sensation he didn’t care for.
“Now the green juice,” Kane said.
Allison thumbed the roller clip.
The tube began to fill and snake toward his body.
The fluid slid into his vein, burning like fire.
Smoke groaned.
“Very good. Just so you know, Smoke, this is a very slow and agonizing process, but you’ll thank me for it later. They always do, right, Allison?”
She nodded.
“Now, turn up the juice, one click at a time, until you hit ten. It’s the best way to get the blood and elixir mixing. Days like this I feel like Victor Frankenstein.”
With his blood on fire and electricity shooting through his body, Smoke wriggled and bucked fiercely as the dial went up, up, up in agonizing minutes that felt like hours.
CHAPTER 10
Sid checked into the motel where she had parked the Hellcat, cleaned up, and took a power nap. Her phone alarm went off an hour later. With her head grafted to the pillow, she forced herself up and climbed out of bed. Wiping her mouth, she headed into the bathroom. She rubbed her face, rinsed it off with water, and dabbed it dry with a stiff motel hand towel.
This isn’t the kind of place I had in mind when I dreamed of coming to Vegas.
Yawning, she headed out of the bathroom, opened up her duffle bag, and removed the sweetheart suit. She needed a kick and a clear mind. She didn’t want to take any chances. If the Drake ran the funeral home, no doubt there would be some sinister elements within. She put on the suit. A tingling sensation pushed away the dreary feeling from constant driving. A new energy surged from head to toe.
That’s more like it. If I was smart, I would have driven in it.
Gearing up with a concealed Glock and ammo magazines as she put on a layer of clothing, she shrugged off her thoughts. The sweetheart suits would dehydrate and drain a person if worn too long. Now was the time, however. The time to strike. She’d need every advantage she could get. She donned her sunglasses and stepped outside into the dry desert air.
Mark was there, leaning against the roof post in the shade of the overhang. His blue denim had turned black. “Ready?”
Locking the door, she said, “How long have you been waiting here?”
“You said four thirty, and I’m always early.”
“So the funeral is on, is it?”
“The cars are lined up around the corner. Visitation has begun. Your timing couldn’t be better. See?” He tipped his chin at the streets.
Dozens of colorful cars with expensive paint jobs and custom effects rolled down the street. A few new cars had rolled into the motel parking lot where they stood. People walked down the sidewalk, most in black. Sharp but dangerous-looking men, some with glamorous women on their arms. Mark came forward and stuck out his elbow. “We need to blend, chica. Ready?”
Sid took his arm. “Just don’t get too friendly.” They headed down the street with the sun shining in their faces. “There won’t be any issues with complete strangers waltzing in?”
“I’m no stranger, I’m a neighbor. They know me.”
“If they know you, then won’t it be strange that you are a married man walking in without your wife?”
“Ha. She’s never been to the parlor. Besides, this is Vegas. There will be plenty of crooked married men with their girlfriends. I have to blend, remember. Appearances can be the difference between life and death.”
“I see.” She scanned the road. Mark was right. Many people were being dropped off at the front entrance to the funeral home. They exited exotic cars and heaps of junk. Every last one of them had “Criminal” written all over them, but they acted and spoke with respect. “So, Mark, have you ever encountered a real shifter before? Or a deader, for that matter?”
“Again, I’m the eyes and ears, so I can’t speak to any action. But if things get scary, I’ll be ready.”
“Trust me, you won’t be.”
He looked down at her and shrugged. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’ve never froze up before, and I don’t plan on freezing up today. Besides, nothing freezes in Vegas.”
“Who died, anyway?”
“Reggie Hyatt.”
Sid tripped, scuffing her shoe on a break in the sidewalk. “Did you say Reggie?”
“Reginald. Reggie. He was a big deal around here. It’s a shock to the community that he died.” He bent his head down and looked at Sid. “Are you okay, chica? You look like you’re staring into your own open grave.”
There was only one Reggie Sidney knew of, even though it was a common name. The one she knew, Reggie the Doppelganger, had died a few days ago. She’d seen his body splattered all over the railroad tracks, or at least what she thought was him. The FBI would have picked up the remains, and she’d never given any consideration to a burial. Perhaps this was it. “Sorry, I had a flashback. I knew a shifter named Reggie. I’d be curious to see if this is an open coffin or not.”
“I usually check in. Show respect. People like to see the faces of the dead, especially when it’s an enemy or rival. Sometimes the coffin is closed, though, because the body’s … well, not a body. Bad things happen to bad people. It can be pretty bad here in Vegas.”
“I see.”
Sid and Mark made their way up the steps into the funeral home. Mark signed the guest book, and they fell in line for the viewing. The people in the room reeked of criminal behavior and cigarette smoke. Gaudy jewelry covered calloused hands and leathery fingers. Men spoke softly, sometimes in angry murmurs. Others exchanged small packets from hand to hand.
Respect for the dead, my ass.
Sid and Mark crept forward one step at a time. The criminal element gave their condolences to a woman Sid didn’t recognize. The woman was in her sixties and pretty, wearing a black dress and holding a handkerchief to her nose. Her voice was soft and polite when she spoke. As she talked to the people in front of Sid, Sid eased up to the polished black coffin with Mark by her side. The coffin was open. The man lying in a bed of ivory satin within gave her the willies. It was Reginald the Doppelganger.
CHAPTER 11
“Did you know him?” asked a soft-spoken woman.
Sid tore her eyes away from Reginald’s corpse. She opened her mouth to speak, but Mark beat her to it.
“No, ma’am, I’m afraid. We are neighbors in the community. I like to pay my respects whenever I have the chance. I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs., er, Ms. Hyatt. Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. I’ve only been a Ms. for a few days, and I’m still getting used to it myself. Please, call me Carly.” She extended her hand, shaking both Mark’s and Sid’s. “And you are?”
“My name is Mark. I own the tattoo parlor across the street. This is my chica, Sarah.” He put his arm around Sid’s waist and made a weak smile.
“I see,” Carly said. “Nice to meet you. And thank you for stopping by.” Carly locked eyes with Sid. “Are you okay? You look a little peaked.”
“I had a long drive yesterday. I wasn’t expecting to swing by a funeral today, either.” Sid kept her tone flat. “I’m not very comfortable in places like this. A childhood thing.”
Carly placed her warm hand on Sid’s shoulder and rubbed it. “I understand, dear thing. There’s a bathroom in the rear if you need to refresh yourself. Thank you for coming.”
Sid gave Carly a nod, then she and Mark moved on, wading into the crowded parlor and blending in. They sat down on a seafoam sofa trimmed in mahogany.
“She didn’t seem too sad.”
“Or happy either. A nice lady.”
“Yeah, too nice.”
A stick of gum in a tinfoil wrapper appeared in Mark’s hand. He offered it to Sid. “Big Red, my favorite.”
“No thanks.” Sid could still see Carly through the crowd, hugging a man with a shaved head. A tall, athletic black woman was behind that man. Carly’s eyes searched the room and found Sid’s again. Sid put he
r hand on Mark’s knee and looked away. She’s on to me.
“What is it, Sarah?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, Sarah. That was a clever one. I’m pretty sure she knew you were lying.”
“Nah, not me. You’re the one who might have given it away. You knew that man, didn’t you?”
“Maybe. You?”
“No. I’ll have to do some digging.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. That man, Reginald. He should be dead, but he shouldn’t be in one piece.”
Mark scratched his neck. “Why, what happened?”
“Let’s just say the train didn’t miss him, or so I thought.”
“Ew, sounds grisly.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
Sid noticed that two of the people Carly Hyatt had spoken with were making their way toward her and Mark. They stopped and stood right in front of them. Sid perched a brow. She gave Mark a glance then resumed her attention on the man and woman. A quick once-over revealed a police shield on the professionally dressed man’s belt. His black slacks and dress shirt were dry cleaned. He was handsome, his head shaved but not to the skin, and he carried a few more pounds than he needed to.
“Uh, hi?”
The black woman was a stark contrast to the man. Taller than Sid, she had the competitive look of an athlete, with a hard look in her dark eyes. Her straight face suggested that she didn’t trust many and wouldn’t hesitate to draw the pistol on her hip. Her attire was black on black, even a little FBI-like. She eyeballed Sid but focused her stare on Mark.
Looking up at the woman, Mark said to her, “What’s with the heat?”
The man said to the both of them, “I’m Detective Slade. This is my partner, Detective Hawthorne. How are you doing?”
“As well as you could expect one to be at a funeral.” Sid cozied up to Mark. She couldn’t help but think she recognized the man. “Did you know the victim?”
“Victim. That’s an interesting choice of words,” Detective Slade said.
“Very interesting,” Detective Hawthorne agreed.
Sid widened her eyes in mockery. “I’m an interesting person.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the man’s face. Who is this guy? I know I know him. Slade had at least a decade of life over her. He wasn’t threatening but relaxed and sharp. His eyes never left hers. “So, is there something that you’re interested in?”
Slade hitched his thumb over his shoulder and said, “We’re investigating the death of Ms. Hyatt’s husband, Reginald. She says you came in from out of town. Whereabouts?”
“First, I didn’t say I came in from out of town. Second, it’s none of your business, Detective. I’m here with my boyfriend, pretty much against my wishes.”
Mark leaned back against the wall. “I’m a businessman, an honest one. If there is some shady business you’re checking into, I suggest you look around. There’s probably half a dozen murderers in here who should be in prison. Great job, Detective.”
Detective Hawthorne got toe to toe with Mark. “Watch it, burrito breath.”
“Burrito breath? What is that, racist? You better watch what you say, Amazon. I’ve got friends in high places in the LVPD.”
“Make the call, chuck wagon,” Hawthorne said.
Flabbergasted, Mark said, “What was that? I don’t even know what that means. Do you know what that means, Sid?”
Morning Glory! Way to go, Mark!
“Sid?” Detective Slade said. “Ms. Hyatt says you introduced yourself as Sarah. How interesting.”
Hawthorne agreed. “Very interesting.”
CHAPTER 12
Sid didn’t hide her aggravation. “You two dimwits are easily entertained.”
Hawthorne slid toward Sid.
Slade gave her an easy smile. “Mrs. Hyatt’s a good woman. She knows when something or someone is out of place. I do too. It’s my job.”
“I’m pretty sure you don’t know nearly as much as you think, Detective. But I can assure you, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” Sid removed her hand from Mark’s knee and reached into her pocket. She had one of her business cards in hand. She took her eyes off of Slade for a moment when a memory hit her. She looked right back at him and said, “I’ll be. And to think I almost missed it. But it’s my job to notice things too. Or at least it used to be, heh. You’re Wade Slade.”
The detective smiled and nodded. “You got me. I can fool most people, but I can’t fool everybody. I assure you, I am a real detective, and I take my job very seriously.”
“Huh.” Sid straightened her back and said to Hawthorne, “I think I know you too.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed.
“Yeah, Vanessa Hawthorne, captain of the 2008 USA volleyball team. Now that’s interesting. You both thought we were interesting. That’s a laugh.”
“So you’re a fan?” Hawthorne said. “I don’t do autographs.”
“You know them?” Mark asked. “I don’t know them. Who’s he?”
“Wade Slade was a child TV star. Huge about two decades ago. He dropped off the face of the earth. Me and my sister used to watch your show a lot. I’ll be. It’s a shame about the hair.”
“I still have it, but in my line of work, it became distracting.” Slade smoothed his hand over his head. “I should have worn my glasses. They hardly catch me with my glasses. Anyway. Sid, is it? I have to say, I don’t take you for trouble. The problem is, you move like law enforcement. Let me guess, FBI?”
Sid didn’t want to reveal that much about herself, but because of what she knew about Slade, she said, “Former.”
“I have to ask, what is a former agent doing in a place like this? You haven’t taken a dark path, have you?”
“Let’s just say I’m looking for someone, but I assure you, it wasn’t that guy in the coffin. The person I’m looking for I haven’t seen.” Everything Sid said was the truth, even though she knew who Reginald was. He was the last person she expected to see. “Look at the element that surrounds us. There’s at least a dozen cases in here.”
Hawthorne made a little smile. “You can say that again.”
Sid swore that Slade was about to ask her if she knew the man in the coffin. The words were right on his lips. He fished his own card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “I don’t know what you’re into, and I don’t want to know. I have plenty going on. I’ve got a good feeling about you, Sid. I’ll trust it.”
Hawthorne gave Slade a little punch in the arm. “You’re just saying that because she was a fan. I hate it when you do that.”
“No, that’s not why.”
“Is to.”
“Okay, Vanessa, then what’s your opinion? Should we take them downtown?”
Hawthorne’s lips wiggled. “She’s okay, but I’m not so sure about Antonio Banderas. Look at those tattoos. He’s shady.”
“You think everyone with tattoos is shady.”
Hawthorne shrugged.
“You’ll have to forgive her. She’s a tad judgmental.” Slade handed Sid his card. “In case you need some assistance.” Sid started to hand over her card, but Slade said, “No, keep it. I’ll assure Ms. Hyatt that you’re not an issue. Nice meeting you. The both of you. Carry on with whatever you’re doing.” The detectives disappeared into the crowd of mourners.
“That was different,” Sid said.
“Yeah, so now what?”
Sid spied the exit out of the main parlor. “I’m going to check the powder room.”
Mark nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
Sid moved out of the parlor. This funeral home wasn’t as dated as the one run by Titus Tolliver. The furnishings, carpet, and wallpaper were old but still decades newer than the home near DC. She passed a woman coming out of the bathroom who had mascara smeared under her eyes.
The woman bumped Sid, saying, “Excuse me.”
Sid moved on past the bathroom and a kitchen in the back. Not seeing anybody, she opened a wooden door lacquered in dark stain with brass fittings. Th
rough the window in the back of the building, she could see one hearse parked. A man in a shabby suit leaned against the back of it, smoking and talking on his cell phone. At the bottom of the stairwell, a single glowing light bulb hung from the ceiling. She crept down the stairs.
The basement was damp and musty. Sid rubbed her nose. Old checkered tiles had a thin layer of soot over them. Much like the upstairs, there were parlors, but they were now used for storage and filled with old furniture. On cat’s feet, she moved deeper into the basement toward a hallway lined with doors on either side. The smell of embalming fluid strengthened the farther she went.
The first door she came to was half open, spilling yellow light out into the hallway. Sid peeked her head inside. It was the embalming lab. A body lay covered on the metal cadaver table. A half-eaten sandwich and cup of soda were on a nearby desk. A roach raced over the floor.
Whoever is on that table is big.
She moved in. Standing by the table, she stretched out her fingers and pinched the sheet between them. She peeled the sheet back from the face. Just as she did, another presence entered the room.
“Can I help you?”
CHAPTER 13
A long-faced man with sagging cheeks and hollow eyes had entered the lab. Very tall and big boned, he blocked the exit. Wearing a white shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black slacks, the gaunt and creepy man looked like a typical mortician, just giant sized.
Sid placed the lab table between her and the man. “I guess you wouldn’t believe me if I told you I’m drawn to weird places.”
The door clicked shut behind the man. His eyes found Sid’s, and his eyebrows lifted. He swept his thinning locks of hair aside and said, “You’d be surprised at the number of people I get down here. You’d think the smell would keep them away, but many are fascinated by the face of death. Pretty things such as yourself showing up here used to surprise me, but not anymore. I’m Frank.”
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 6 thru 10 (Smoke Special Edition Book 2) Page 42
