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 gi
ve 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 picked 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.”
There was something odd and unnatural about all the men in the picture. Their features were sharp, but their skin was pasty. Some of them had long black fingernails. They were an odd bunch.
“Look at that one over there, on this guy.” Smoke pointed at the screen. “It says Guermo. What does that mean?”
Typing in a new command, Sam did a search but apparently didn’t find anything meaningful. “I’ll send Russ a note. Maybe he’ll know.” She launched a text.
Smoke and his crew had kept in touch with Russ Davenport. He’d been a solid resource, but he found the recent quiet odd. He’d made that clear. “When things are quiet like this, it means something big is happening,” he’d said.
Smoke was inclined to agree. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it everywhere he went in DC. He refocused on the group picture. The image in the center. “Can you tell if this photo was digitally doctored?”
“No, it wasn’t. At least I’m pretty confident it wasn’t. The thing is, the background behind our invisible man is blurred. It’s a storage room, and you can see the shelves and boxes behind him, but they’re blurred just a bit. Computers can fill that in, but the contrast is too smooth. I’m convinced we’re looking right through him. He’s invisible.”
“Or a vampire,” Guppy said. “You can’t take pictures of vampires, can you?”
“You watch too many movies.” Sam’s pretty face frowned. She shivered and rubbed her upper arms. “That thought just gave me the willies. Tell me, Smoke. Tell me there aren’t any vampires in DC.”
“I thought you liked these supernatural creatures.”
“I do, but I don’t know, that sent a chill through me. Look, I’ve got goosebumps up to my armpits.”
Smoke tried to recall something that Adam Vaughn the Wolfman had said to him. He’d talked of vampires and called them Euro trash. There had been another incident too. At the mausoleum amid the gargoyles, an eerie man called Boss had mentioned vampires to Sid.
Phat Sam’s phone buzzed. She eyed the text. “It’s from Russ. He says germo or guermo is old Spanish for The Many.” She stuck her tongue out. “Uck, that explains those eyeball tattoos. Man, I’m thinking you should kill those dudes if we cross them at The Guillotine. None of that sounds right at all.”
Her phone buzzed again.
“Russ wants to know what’s up. What do I tell him?”
“Nothing. We need to get ready.”
Buzzzzzzzzz.
Sam checked her phone scree
n. “Yuck, it’s a pic of that eyeball thing.” She showed it to Smoke. “Look.”
It was graffiti spray-painted on a wall, a cluster of eyes with wavy tentacles encircling it. Below, it read Guermo—in what looked like smeared blood.
CHAPTER 6
“Well, this is it,” Guppy said, pulling the SUV into the parking lot of The Guillotine Club. It was late night, and the moon was still full. He shut off the engine of the 1979 blacked-out custom Ford Bronco and peered over the wheel. “I think we have the only American wheels on the lot.”
Sitting in the passenger seat and wearing a black dress that would make Elvira proud, Sam added, “You can say that again. Is that a Bugatti?”
Smoke, in dark glasses, sat in the back seat, snacking on some pretzels and finishing off a chocolate shake. Like Guppy, he was in a dark dress shirt and nice dark dress slacks. His cuff links and tie had a little goth look to them. He sucked every last bit of shake out of his straw.
In an agitated voice, Sam said, “Will you stop doing that, Smoke? You aren’t five anymore. Oh never mind that. The last time I was at the movies, some thirty-year-old was sucking out every bit of his Slurpee.” She shook her head. “People these days.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that guy ever coming to the movies again,” Guppy said with a chuckle. “You scared the Slurpee right out of him.”
With smiling eyes, she said to Guppy, “I sure did, didn’t I?”
Smoke stuck the cup in a holder. “Sorry Sis, but I’ve got to have my energy shakes. Let’s go.”
The Guillotine was in an industrial graveyard along the Potomac River. Dark neon colors glowed in gothic designs on the face of a tall building covered in metal sheeting. The parking lot was full of exotic cars. Most were European, but there were a few classic American muscle machines as well. A few people lingered by their cars—smoking, snorting, and chatting. Their hair, skin, and clothing all had a bizarre dark look to them. Techno, punk, gothic, it was a smattering of darker enriched society.
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files Collector's Set: Books 1-10: Urban Fantasy Shifter Series Page 69
