The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files Collector's Set: Books 1-10: Urban Fantasy Shifter Series

by Craig Halloran

  Approaching the manor, Sidney stayed close to the others. An imposing man in a hawk mask gave everyone a once over. Reggie held up his ring, and the man in the mask nodded. Behind the guard, on either side of the door, were deaders in doorman uniforms that looked to be a hundred years old.

  “I love the looks of these men,” one girl with a squeaky voice marveled. “So undead.”

  “They’re undead all right,” Reggie said, stuffing a fifty in the hawk-masked man’s breast pocket. “Just don’t get too close.”

  “Why?” the girl said, stepping closer and cocking her head.

  The young man goosed her. “Boo!”

  She squealed. “Stop that Reggie! You almost made me pee myself!”

  “Sorry, babe.” He slung his arm over her shoulder. “But you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  Sidney caught a glimpse of a signet ring on his finger. It was a golden head with a rising black sun stamped in the middle of it. A dreadful feeling overcame her. Not for the men so much as the girls. They had no idea what they were in for. Sheep being led by wolves to the slaughter.

  Inside, the atmosphere was heavy. Dreary music filled the massive foyer made from cut stone and marble. A banquet room with buffet tables and a bar was on the right, and a huge ballroom was on the left. People didn’t dance. Instead, dressed in evening attire, they talked and touched, and some kissed. Every one of them had on a bird mask. There were eagles, hawks, pigeons, ravens, cardinals, robins and even parakeets and canaries.

  I bet there’s a pecking order to all of this.

  There seemed to be. Men in dark suits wearing hawk masks were spread out along the walls. Their builds were similar to the men from the club. Women in scanty outfits of revealing silk wore bright pink and yellow canary masks. A few muscular bruisers in blue jay masks sauntered around carrying trays with drinks and small packages of pills.

  I bet Allison would love this place.

  Sidney broke off from the others and began milling about, careful not to jostle anyone. She picked up on a few conversations but nothing of note. Money. Politics. Sex. That was the gist of it. She grabbed a drink from one of the trays and leaned against a post. She noticed more oversized bird cages. Inside them were bird-masked shirtless men, covered in neon colors with war paint and wearing only buckskin pants. Some danced. Others stood with their arms crossed over their bare chests.

  Allison would definitely love this depraved place. Her phone buzzed.

  Unknown Caller

  The message read:

  Are you in?

  Sidney responded with a yes.

  Describe?

  She texted back: The filthy rich in bird masks. Men in loincloth and cages. Want a picture?

  How many?

  Two-hundred +.

  Odd for this time of day. Something must be going on. Much artillery?

  Yes.

  Find Smoke and leave. Make sure you have the suit.

  I didn’t come to make new friends—and screw your suit. What about Night Bird?

  She’ll have to wait.

  Sid put her phone away. These cryptic messages from Mal Carlson were of little benefit at all. Not to her anyway. But he did point out one odd thing: the unique time of day for the gathering. Unlike the late-night hours mingling at the club, this had more of the feeling of a buildup for an event. She headed for the buffet and decorated her crystal plate with extraordinary cuisine. The aroma of fine spices was arousing. She took a few bites. This is wonderful.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” said a man in a robin mask and a tuxedo. He sounded young and was well built. His cologne was enticing.

  Sidney nodded. “Yes. You?”

  He rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “Not yet. Say, aren’t you hot? I bet you are.” His voice was smooth and persuasive. “Why don’t you let me help you take that coat off?”

  “I just got here.” She eased away. “Maybe later.” Never!

  “I’ll be close,” he said, walking away.

  Find Smoke! Get out of here!

  The music stopped and the chatter quickly subsided. Everyone gazed up at the balcony at the top of the stairs. There was Night Bird.

  CHAPTER 33

  Night Bird stood proudly at the top, hands on the rail, in a glorious white feathered gown. Her outstanding features almost made Sidney forget about the monster that lurked behind them. She spoke. “Guests, one and all, welcome to my abode. I’m sure you’re enjoying yourselves.”

  Some laughter broke out, and a few cheers echoed and died.

  Night Bird clapped her hands. “Are you ready for the main event?”

  The crowd shouted back. “Yes!”

  “Are you sure?” she said, playfully.

  “Yes!”

  “Then step aside, children, and let the Battle of the Bird Cages begin!”

  Sid moved out of the banquet room and over to the ballroom, where the people gathered in a big circle eyeing the floor. The center of the floor slid back like a great eye, making a gaping hole in the middle.

  Morning Glory!

  The men and women started chanting and pumping their fists. “Bird Cage! Bird Cage! Bird Cage!”

  A great raven made from blackened iron rose from the gaping floor, rising higher and higher. It was perched on a round metal bird cage maybe twenty feet wide and over ten feet tall. It filled almost a third of the room.

  You have got to be kidding me.

  She glanced up at the balcony. Night Bird stood looking downward with two deaders in pea coats on either side of her.

  On the main floor, the serving men in hawk-masks opened up the door to the big cage. Other servants pushed the smaller bird cages with men inside over and let them out. Inside the cage they went, and the door was latched shut. The men inside—each coated in bright colorful war paint—were well built: stout and hard muscled. One shadow boxed, stretched and warmed up. The other stroked his wild beard. Somewhere a gong sounded, and the room fell silent.

  Sidney controlled her gaping. Really, they couldn’t go see this anywhere else? Couldn’t they just stay home and watch Fight Club?

  Night Bird spoke up. “No mercy. Winner take all!”

  The crowd let out a cheer.

  Sidney pushed her way through the throng. Now was the best time to find Smoke. Someone had to be holding him somewhere. Wouldn’t surprise me if there was a dungeon in here.

  Night Bird raised her arms and lowered them.

  Bong!

  Sid glanced back over her shoulder. Up inside the cage, the men circled. One, sleek and bald, jabbed at the brawny bearded one. His blows smacked into flesh. The bearded man snatched the man by the arms and drove his knees into his chest. In a blink, the bald man was hoisted over the bearded man’s head.

  The people roared.

  A second later, the bearded man slammed the struggling man head first into the floor. Crack! The witnesses gasped, and the ballroom fell silent. The bald man moved no more.

  The bearded fighter beat his chest and let out a triumphant howl. He flexed his muscles and yelled up at the balcony, “Who’s next? Who’s next?”

  The crowd started chanting. “Wild Jack! Wild Jack! Wild Jack!”

  Wild Jack? It was the name of a legendary MMA fighter. Sidney hadn’t recognized him with the beard. He had been clean-shaven and worn a Mohawk, if she remembered it right. This is insane, not to mention highly illegal. She took out her phone and sent a text to Ted Howard. Night Bird or no Night Bird, I’m breaking this party up. I’m a witness to a murder. She pressed send, but the signal bar was dead. No!

  Bong!

  “Well done, Wild Jack,” Night Bird said. “Are you ready for another?”

  “I’m not even warmed up yet,” he shouted up to her, “But yes, milady, I’m ready.”

  “Excellent, because we have a newcomer that I think you just might find worthy.” She clapped her hands. “Bring him in!”

  A pair of grand double doors opened underneath the balcony. Another bird cage was pul
led in, containing a man with his back turned to them with his head down. The people murmured and pressed toward the cage.

  “Make a hole! Out of the way!” said one of the hawk-masked men.

  Oh no! Sidney’s gut churned. She squeezed through the crowd and crept up on the cage. She got a good look at the face. It was Smoke. His shoulders were bruised, his complexion pale, and he had a sick and haggard look about him. His weak eyes met hers. “Smoke?”

  His head lifted, and he coughed. “You need to go,” he said in a raspy voice. “Just go.”

  Keeping up with the cage, she said, “What happened?”

  “What didn’t happen?” He winced. “Just go. They’ll see you. Forget about the Slate.” His eyes hardened. “Forget about all of this and go.”

  “But—” she stammered.

  “Move it, woman,” said one of the servants, shoving her aside. They started pushing the crowd back from the cage. “Clear out! All of ya!”

  The throng eased back and Sidney drifted in with the masses. A hollowness filled her. Smoke’s rock-solid demeanor was gone. A world champion MMA fighter waited inside the cage, grinding his fist into his paw. I have to stop this. He’ll die.

  The crowd hummed with new energy.

  Smoke’s disheveled form lumbered out of his cage and stepped over the bald man’s dead body. Stooped over, his battered muscular body was riddled with cuts, scrapes, and bruises. He shuffled toward the center of the cage, facing his aggressor. The cage door closed with a clank.

  “This is going to be a massacre,” one man said.

  “I hope there’s blood this time,” added a woman.

  “There’s blood. There’s always blood,” the man in the eagle mask replied. “Wild Jack will bring it all night long. He’s never been defeated.”

  Sidney’s chest tightened. Her fingers went to her gun. What am I going to do? I can’t watch him die.

  “Kill him, Wild Jack!” a strong voice cried out. “No mercy on that man! I want to see blood on those hands.”

  Sidney cocked her head and looked at the man. He had a husky bowling-pin build and meaty hands. He squeezed the hips of the women on either side of him.

  “Wait till you see this, girls. Wait and see. That bastard in the cage has it coming.”

  Congressman Wilhelm!

  CHAPTER 34

  Sidney’s jaw muscles tightened. If Congressman Wilhelm was there, who else was? All around her, people in bird masks talked, some in different languages and others with bad American accents. They all wanted blood. Mayhem. Death.

  Who are these people? Why don’t they get in the cage!

  She shuffled through the crowd toward the cage, bumping Congressman Wilhelm, jostling his drink.

  “Idiot! Watch where you’re going!”

  She didn’t turn.

  Night Bird clapped her hands, and the crowd fell silent. “Life to the victor! Death to the fallen! Agreed?”

  The people shouted back in agreement. Inside the cage, Smoke stood a few paces away from Wild Jack with his shoulder dropped. The bearded warrior, all lathered up, mopped the sweat from his brow. He spat. “This man doesn’t seem fit for fighting!”

  “I don’t expect him to put up much of a fight,” Night Bird replied. “He crossed me. That’s how I want it.”

  “I see,” Wild Jack said, stroking his beard. He pumped his fists in the air. “I’ll make it a prolonged and painful death then!”

  Smoke burst into motion, striking Wild Jack in the throat. The burly man’s eyes popped wide. The seasoned fighter brought his fists down. Smoke slipped behind the man and locked Wild Jack’s arms and neck up. The bearded warrior gagged, and his face quickly went from beet red to purple.

  Get him, Smoke!

  Wild Jack slapped at Smoke’s arms, spat and struggled. The muscles in Smoke’s corded arms bulged. His face filled with strain. Wild Jack’s eyes rolled up inside his head, and Smoke took him to the floor.

  The crowd unleashed a fury of angry boos and profanities. It didn’t matter. It was over.

  Smoke released Wild Jack, rose back to his feet wincing, looked up at Night Bird, and shrugged.

  The gong sounded, and the crowd quieted.

  “I didn’t even give the signal to start the match, and that’s cheating,” Night Bird said. “Not to mention that I said it was to the death. I see Wild Jack is still breathing. Or should I say, sleeping?”

  The attendees craned their necks toward the cage and murmured.

  “Kill him yourself,” Smoke said back to Night Bird.

  Night Bird laughed. “Oh, that’s noble. How quaint. But either you can kill him or I’ll have to kill her.” She pointed straight down at Sidney. “Take her!”

  How did she know?

  The array of guests turned on her. The brutes in the hawk masks shoved the masses aside and came straight for her. Sidney pulled out her gun and fired three shots into the ceiling.

  Blam! Blam! Blam!

  Screams and frightened cries were followed by dozens of people scrambling for the doors. Sidney lowered her head and melded in with the rampaging throng.

  Try to find me now, you idiots!

  As the crowd pushed toward the main entrance, she noticed two men in suits pushing Congressman Wilhelm out the door. The bodyguards in bird masks formed a blockade at the main entrance, patting everyone down with force. Above, on the balcony, Night Bird was screaming, but Sidney didn’t look back. Instead, she snatched a parakeet mask from one woman’s face and disappeared underneath the stairs that led up to the balcony. Gathering her thoughts and catching her breath, she waited.

  I’ve got to get Smoke out of here.

  Five minutes into the wait, she switched masks, slipped off her coat, and reentered the scene. The manor was half empty. The excitement from the gunfire had dulled. The servants were picking up the mess. Others searched. The remaining party guests had resumed their talks, making up half-baked stories. Eyeing the balcony, Sidney noticed Night Bird was gone.

  Where could that bird brain be?

  She huddled with a crowd of talking guests that had gathered near the cage. Smoke was still inside, sitting on the floor, head down and shivering.

  What is wrong with him?

  Checking her surroundings, she eased closer to the cage and cleared her throat.

  Smoke didn’t move.

  Putting a stagger in her step, she teetered around the rim and hiccupped from time to time.

  Smoke crawled over on his hands and knees, saying, “Water. I need water.”

  She whispered. “It’s me, Sid.”

  “Water,” he replied, then under his breath he said, “I know. I can handle this. Just go.” He coughed.

  “Are you all right or not?” she said, still whispering.

  He cocked his head back toward Wild Jack and said, “Better than him.” He coughed again. “What a tool. If you’re going to stick around, get the keys. But I suggest you go. Night Bird has keen instincts.”

  “I’m not leaving without you.”

  “Then we might not be leaving at all.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right with that?”

  “I’m good. Let me go find you some water.”

  “A milkshake would be better.”

  Now that the crowd had settled down, the hawk-masked guards began making rounds and patting everyone down. Sidney still had her gun tucked down in her pants. Great. She made her way over to one of the banquet tables, kneeled down, and put her gun beneath the curtains. She then sauntered over toward one of the guards with her hands raised over her head.

  “Yoo hoo, you haven’t searched me yet,” she said to the nearest one. She nuzzled up to him. “Pat me down, and be sure to be thorough. And if you do a good job I’ll pat you down too!”

  The guard grunted. “Be still.”

  She draped her arms over him and pulled him close. “How can I be still with a brute like you around? Hmmm?” Lord, he smells like English Leather.

  He ran his ha
nds over her chest and waist, taking full advantage of the moment.

  “You have great hands.”

  “I’m a student at a massage therapy school.” He patted her rear. “You’re clear.”

  “No doubt you’ll be a good one,” she said, tickling his chin. “Anything else?”

  “No,” he said, starting to walk away.

  “Oh, well, can I get that man in the cage some water? I feel sorry for the dear.”

  There was a grinding of gears and a clank of metal. The giant bird cage started to lower back into the floor.

  “I think it’s a little late for that now, but don’t worry, he won’t be thirsty much longer.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because dead men don’t thirst.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Sidney retrieved her gun and made her way up to a gathering crowd that stood watching the cage go down into the floor. Smoke sat inside the cage, head down.

  “Bummer,” someone said, “no more violence. Let’s go.”

  The cage sunk into the darkness and rattled when it hit bottom. Gears grinded and the floor began to close.

  “Wow, it looks like he’s being swallowed whole. Too bad for that loser,” a man said, guzzling a bottled beer. “Better him than me. I wonder where they find these goons anyway.”

  Sidney crept toward the rim. The hole was seconds from closing.

  “Hey, lady, you better back off. That floor will cut your leg off.” The man laughed. “It wouldn’t be the first time that happened, either.”

  The light over the grand birdcage faded.

  Sidney swallowed. I’m not losing you again. She jumped on the sliding door of the closing circle.

  “Are you crazy?” the man said. “Get off of there!”

  Crazy enough! She jumped through the narrowing doorway into the darkness. She hit the top of the cage with a bang and rolled down the side, hitting the floor hard. “Oof!” Slowly, she sat up, rubbing her hip and shaking her head.