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

by Craig Halloran

  Ring! Ring! Ring!

  It sounded like the ringer from the old Adam West Batmobile. Sitting up, she fidgeted with the dash and answered the console.

  The small digital screen in the middle came to life.

  Mal Carlson’s face was on it. “Hi, Sid, how have you been?”

  “It hasn’t been the best day, but it’s getting better.”

  “Do you like the car?” he said, smiling. The older, olive-skinned man looked as refined and studious as ever.

  “Love it.”

  “Good.”

  Someone shoved into him, and another face crammed into the screen. It was Sam, stunning and happy. “Hey, Sid. Check out the trunk.”

  Guppy pressed his face into the picture. “Hey, Sid, did you check out the trunk yet? Check out the trunk!”

  “Why, is Smoke in it?”

  Sam and Guppy froze, and a frowning Sam said, “That’s not funny.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  Sam’s face brightened. “Just kidding. No, he’s not in it. Only God knows where he is. Now check out the trunk.”

  “Will you two get back!” Mal said to the both of them. Regaining his composure, he politely said, “Sid, go ahead and check out the trunk.”

  “All right.” She headed outside, checked over her shoulder, and popped the trunk open. “Oh my.”

  Guns. Big and small. Ammo. Loads of it. A pair of L.A.W. rockets.

  Is that a flamethrower?

  There were two small metal cases too, like the ones Mal had equipped her and Smoke with before. She unfastened one and opened it up. A sweetheart suit. A vial full of pills. A Glock 22 with a pair of 30-round clips of ammunition. There were bullets too: red, blue, and green tipped. She picked her way through some other supplies. More knives. An ammo belt. A lighter. Watch. Glasses. “Are you trying to turn me into Jane Bond or something?”

  Chuckling erupted inside the car.

  She closed the trunk, got back in the car, and closed the door. All three faces were crammed onto the screen. “Am I being deployed? That arsenal was full of everything but a parachute.”

  “Oh, there’s one in there,” Guppy said with a wink.

  “You know, all of that extra weight is going to infringe on my quarter mile time,” she said.

  “I think you’ll be fine,” Mal said. “Now Sid, do you think you’re ready?”

  “Ready for what?”

  Sam said, “To kick some bad-guy ass.”

  “I think you all know I was born ready.” Sid adjusted her seat and locked in her radio channels. “What’s the plan?”

  “We need you to come in,” Mal said.

  “To the Bat Cave?”

  “No.”

  “The Hall of Justice?”

  “No.”

  “The Avengers—”

  “We are staying at the Hyatt Regency Downtown, suite 1111,” Mal said, shaking his head. “See you soon.”

  Just before the image faded, Mal’s Asian wife, Asia, popped her head in the screen. “Pick up some good food. Hotel food is shi—”

  Sid cut her off, dropped the car into drive, and laid her foot down on the gas. Shoulders pinned to the seat and smiling from ear to ear, she made it to their hotel in no time flat.

  CHAPTER 13

  Room 1111. A business suite. Suitable for all occasions.

  “What do you mean Cyrus took the ring?” Sam said. Her face was red, and her perfect brows were creased. “It wasn’t stolen. I’m the one who picked it out. Geez!”

  As soon as Sid entered the room, a new interrogation had begun. Half embarrassed, Sid had told them everything, and Smoke’s proposal was the worst part of all. “You knew about it?”

  “Of course we did,” Sam said, shaking her head yes.

  “All of you knew?”

  “It was a pretty ring.” Asia was lying on one of the beds in a hotel robe, watching a soap opera on TV. “I prefer princess cut.”

  Sid grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. “Eeeeaaaaahhhh!”

  Why does everyone but me always know what’s going on!

  Red-faced, she said, “So did everyone go out shopping for my ring? Guppy, were you there too?”

  “There was a lot of shopping going on. Somebody had to hold the bags.”

  “If it’s any consolation,” Mal said, “I was the last one to know. Well, obviously you were the last one, but I certainly would have picked a better day to pop the question.”

  “You can say that again,” Asia said. “Fool of a man proposed to me behind a liquor store. Can you believe that?”

  “It was a nice view of the river. The liquor store just happened to be there,” Mal said. “And I was, well, nervous. It’s not like I’d ever asked anyone to marry me before.”

  “Aw, it’s all right, honey,” the little woman said. “I’ve forgiven you, but I’m still waiting on that second honeymoon to Vegas.”

  Sid sat down on the edge of the bed, exhausted and embarrassed. Smoke sure had awfully weird ways of doing things. She recalled the first time she’d read his profile. No hint of a schoolboy romantic anywhere in there. If anything, it had said he was a dangerous, lawless terror.

  How can I marry an enigma?

  Sam threw her arms up. “We can’t have a wedding without a groom, so I suppose it’s time we got to work.”

  “Indeed.” Sitting behind his laptop, Mal pecked at some keys.

  Guppy fed some paper into a portable printer. “And pardon everyone, Sid. This certainly is serious business, having to clear Smoke.”

  “Clear the Smoke. Funny,” Asia said.

  “You’ll have to pardon my wife, Sid. She suffers from a mild but still annoying form of Tourette’s.”

  “What is Tourette’s?” Asia asked.

  “Continuing,” Mal said, “I don’t think anyone here believes Smoke did what we think we saw him do. We’re going to have to find out who did do what we saw.” He turned on a projector, and his computer’s image appeared on the wall. “Lights.”

  Guppy lumbered over to the door and turned off the lights.

  The projector’s light kept the room lit up.

  Mal ran the video that the television stations had played during the assassination attempt. “We should be able to find some clues right here. Let me know if any of you sees anything out of the ordinary.”

  Sid had a very strong memory, borderline photographic. Several things jumped out at her. When the video stopped, she spoke first. “The shooter wore gloves. I don’t recall seeing Smoke in a ball cap before, either. Back up to when Wilhelm is behind the podium.”

  The video image cruised backward.

  “Stop it there. See this,” she said, pointing with her finger. “This is a full view of the entire stage. One of the first things I said to myself was, ‘Where’s the Secret Service?’ Wilhelm always has two of them nearby. There weren’t any today.”

  “Very good,” Mal said.

  “Also,” Sid continued, “Smoke doesn’t move like that. This guy’s stiff. Smoke is graceful. And look at Wilhelm. His eyes land on the audience and freeze on Smoke. If he felt he was in danger, then he would have moved out of harm’s way, but he doesn’t. He keeps talking.” She put her finger on Wilhelm’s image. “Run it right up to the point when the gun is fired.”

  Mal did, and then he froze the camera angle on Wilhelm’s face.

  “Look,” said Sid. “He’s tightening up. You can almost see that paunchy face of his pucker up, and the shot doesn’t come until a couple of seconds later. If I were to guess, I’d say he was expecting it.”

  “Pretty good, Sid,” Mal said with admiration. “I didn’t even pick up on all that. Of course, it’s not my forte.”

  “Good work, Sid,” Guppy said while he rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. He dabbed his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. Still, how are we going to prove that it wasn’t him? We weren’t there, and whoever did that looks just like him—and he has disappeared.”
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br />   Sid sat down at the table.

  Sam and Guppy joined her.

  Every eye was fixed on her, looking for leadership. Looking for answers.

  She took out the notepad where she’d jotted her notes in her apartment. “Let’s start with what we do know. Time. Place. Hmmm. Witnesses. Did anyone see any interviews with the witnesses?”

  “A couple,” Guppy mumbled.

  Sam was checking her nails until she found Sid’s eyes on her. “Uh, nope.”

  “Tell you what, Sam. Maybe you and Guppy can contact Russ Davenport. If anyone else is on this who we can trust, it’s him.”

  “Listen, Sid,” Mal said, “all of this that you are suggesting is fine and well, but I don’t see how any of it will help Smoke. We need a body and a gun. We aren’t a bunch of attorneys who can clear his name. No, this is deep, and it’s got the Drake’s stink all over it. And as we all know, they have deeper pockets than we do.”

  “Aw, quit being such a sissy,” Asia said.

  “Will you shut up?” Mal fired back. “Now, I do think you should follow your instincts. That’s fine. But I need to dig into some deeper things.” He pecked at the computer and pulled up a new screen. “Look at this.”

  Images of faces from the Black Slate showed up. AV, Nightbird, Mason Crow, the Ratson Brothers, the forever children, the hunchback, Swift the rat-wolf, gargoyles and a handful of deaders.

  “Creepy,” Sam said with awe, “but kinda cool.”

  “What are you getting at, Mal?” Sid asked.

  He gazed at all of them. “These are shifters. Men and women that change forms. What if there’s one out there who has shifted to look just like John Smoke?”

  CHAPTER 14

  Sid rubbed the chill bumps racing up her neck and shoulders. “Are you telling me that might not have even been him in my apartment at all?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Mal said. “Did you get a creepy feeling? Was there something odd about him?”

  “Yeah, was he creepy?” Sam said.

  “No, not exactly. Just the fact that he proposed to me.”

  “Aw, did he get down on one knee?” Sam said. “I love it when they do that.”

  “I take it you’ve been proposed to before,” said Sid.

  “Oh yeah, lots of times.” Sam studied her nails. “But I only said yes once.” She winked at Guppy.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Mal said, closing the laptop.

  Guppy powered down the projector. “It’s only a theory.”

  Sam and Guppy got up and headed toward the door.

  “Where are you two going?” asked Sid.

  “After Russ Davenport, like you said.” Sam was giving her a look.

  “Forget it, I’ll go.”

  “What? Wait a minute, why?” Sam said. “I think we can handle it.”

  “It’s not that,” Sid said, “it’s just that I don’t know where to start, so it might as well be there.”

  “I don’t see any reason why we can’t come with,” Guppy said.

  “Because three’s a crowd.” She felt someone tapping her on the shoulder.

  It was Asia. The little woman said, “And four’s even worse. No, let’s go get something to eat. I’m tired of sitting in this stuffy room. Feels like a hospital.” She made a sour face. “Uck!”

  ***

  Asia sat in the front seat of the Hellcat, staring straight ahead and stuffing her face with French fries. Sam and Guppy were in the back, and neither one of them stayed quiet longer than one second at a time.

  “You know, this car’s fairly roomy back here. Needs more leg room, but heck, it’s a sports car,” Sam said. She had a copy of Nightfall DC folded in front of her. “Hey, it says here there are giant rats living in the sewers.” She shoved Sid’s shoulder. “Duh.”

  “Why don’t you lay into this thing, Sid? I want to feel that power. Say, I know a great track that we can take it for a spin on,” Guppy said. He pushed himself up toward the dash. “Maybe time the quarter mile. See? You have a timer in your console here, and you can figure out your G-forces as well. Look, see the race light?” He poked it with his pudgy finger. “Sweet, huh.”

  Sid smacked his hand. “Do you mind?”

  “Can’t say that I do.”

  Sam shoved him back in his seat. “Behave yourself.”

  Asia stuck her hand in Sid’s face. “French fry?”

  “No thanks,” Sid said.

  Geez, what is wrong with these people?

  That was one of the things that bothered Sid about these people most. They didn’t seem to worry. It was both weird and refreshing. Since she graduated high school and went into the service, most of the training had been intense. The job was serious. She pushed herself to the highest levels and gave herself the biggest challenges. Heck, there were plenty of days when she probably didn’t crack a smile. And come to think of it, the FBI was notorious for its frowns.

  Sheesh.

  But this crew, they seemed to delight in danger.

  “How much farther, Sid?” Guppy asked.

  “A few more miles of highway and a few miles of old roadway after that,” she said. “Why?”

  “Oh, I think I’m starting to get a little carsick is all.”

  “Oh honey,” Sam said, petting his head, “do you want us to pick you up some Dramamine?”

  Sid tuned them out. Or at least tried to until they got to the camp where Russ Davenport kept his trailer. She shut off the engine and popped open her door. “We’re here.”

  Guppy hustled out, a little green. “I call shotgun on the ride back.”

  “Tell you what,” Sam said, stretching her long frame out of the car and putting on her sunglasses, “this is pretty much how I imagined it.”

  Russ’s two trailers stuck together looked just as shabby as they had before. The wooden deck needed paint, and the wood was aged grey. Rust was apparent on the corner edges of the trailers, and the screen door banged a little in the wind.

  “Why didn’t you just call?” Asia said, crinkling her nose. “This place is shitty.”

  “He doesn’t like phones,” Sid said.

  The steps creaked beneath her feet on her way up to the front door. She pounded on the frame. “Russ! It’s Sid. Sidney Shaw.”

  No answer. She scanned the camp area. A white convertible Chrysler LeBaron was parked nearby. Its best days had been at least two decades ago.

  Guppy walked over to it, put his hand on the hood, and showed Sid a shrug.

  She banged on the trailer again. “Russ!” She opened the screen door. The main door was cracked open behind it. She looked back over her shoulder and pulled out her gun.

  Asia’s eyes popped open.

  Sid went inside.

  Russ’s trailer was a mess. The books were all over the floor. Computer equipment was busted. Anything that opened had been pulled out or torn off. Glass crunched under her feet. “Russ?”

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Swallowing hard, Sid ventured deeper into the trailer toward the bedroom. There was nothing but ruffled sheets, torn up pillows, and loose papers. “Russ?”

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  She whirled and faced the tiny door that led to the bathroom. Gun ready, she grabbed the handle and jerked the door open. Russ’s heavy frame rolled out. His mouth, hands, and legs were bound. He was barely breathing—and bleeding from the head.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Aw man,” Russ said, holding a wet towel to his head. He was propped up on his sofa, surrounded by Sid and everyone else. “I gotta tell you, I’m sure glad you guys stopped by. I thought I was a goner.”

  “What happened?” Sid asked.

  “I’m sitting at my computer, you know, doing my thing and working on my paper.” He sucked his teeth and winced. “When I hear a sound. I turn, and pop, I get hammered right between the eyes. The next thing I know I’m bound up and lying on the floor. Some dude’s tearing up all my stuff, and I yell at him. He turns, and then t
hings get spooky. His eyes are pitch black, and his face is weird and pasty. His hands are huge. He snatches me up off the floor with one hand and tosses me back onto the bed. Man, I thought I was dead.”

  “Did he say anything?” she asked.

  “He—or it—asked me where Smoke was. I said, ‘I don’t know, ask the fuzz.’” Russ’s breath shuddered. “That’s when everything went black. Well, after his fist exploded into my head.” His eyes found Sam’s face and brightened. “But it looks like my day is getting better.”

  “Looks like you’re going to make it,” Sid said. “You might want to check and see if he—or it—took anything.”

  Russ leaned forward with a groan and let Sid help him to his feet. Scanning everything, he shuffled into the other trailer. It was a little more suitable for company and had a bigger desk with more intact computer screens. He took a seat behind the desk. “Well, doesn’t look like anything is broken in here. So, uh, can one of you grab me a beer out of the fridge? It’ll do me better than this rag.”

  Asia—petite, expressionless, and pretty—brought over two bottles and set them on his desk. She twisted the caps off both of them. “The only thing decent in here is your beer. Everything else sucks.” She gulped some down, took a seat, and turned on Russ’s TV.

  “Uh,” Russ said, grabbing his beer, “so what brought you guys over here?”

  “You know about the Wilhelm shooting?” Sid said.

  “Of course. That’s what I was working on when that goon showed up.”

  “What were you working on?” Sid asked.

  “Ah, well, like everything else I write about in the city, I was working on the conspiracy.” Russ took a long sip of beer. “And that shooting is another doozy.”

  Arms crossed over her chest, Sid said, “What do you mean?”

  “You know, one thing that I do all the time is interview. I’ve done hundreds of them, heck, maybe thousands, I don’t know, but I’ll tell you this. I know when someone’s not being honest. And, I’m pretty good with faces.” He turned his screen around so that everyone nearby could see. He typed on the keys, and a pair of images showed up. “For instance, this guy who I like to call jackass number one.”