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

by Craig Halloran

  Sid took a knee and tied her shoe at the intersection adjacent to the funeral home. The building was dated compared to its surroundings. It was out of place, like many of the old casinos that had fallen by the wayside. It was easy to assume the old establishment had been built far enough away from the strip, only to see the expanding city grow around it like a jungle of concrete ivy.

  Chin up, she spied the dated sign in front of the building. Drake Funeral Home. The sign looked like the old signs that led into state parks from the fifties. It was made up of wood and sandstone. The large front porch was empty of life. The windows were grimy. A wrought-iron fence surrounded the building, but the gate to the driveway entrance was open. She searched the edges of the building for security cameras, but she didn’t see any.

  She finished up retying the lace on her sneaker and aimed herself toward the other side of the street. A man called out to her, “Hey, chica, where are you going? Hold on, I’d like to speak with you.”

  The man approached. He was a tall Mexican with tattoos covering his bare arms from the wrist to the shoulder. His long jet-black hair covered his ears to the neck. Dressed in biker’s garb, he came right at her, but he wasn’t alone. Two other men followed in behind him. “I’ve never seen you on this street before. You lost, chica?”

  “Do I look lost?” she said.

  “Hard to say, judging by those shades you are wearing.” His hard eyes grazed over her body. “I saw you roll in on those hot wheels. Very nice. Maybe you are looking for a custom paint job, eh?”

  Keeping her attention on the man, she said, “I’m just passing through. It’s been a long drive, and I needed to stretch my legs a little.”

  Grinning, he said, “Why don’t you let me stretch those legs for you?”

  Fighting the urge to stuff his nose back into his brain with a blow from her fist, she said, “I can handle it, thanks.” She started to walk away. Just as she did, a black hearse, the same as the one Smoke was seen in, pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street in the direction from where she’d come. Her eyes followed it.

  “Chica, what are you searching for? I’m sure I have whatever you need.”

  “I’m not looking for anything.” Wanting to follow the hearse, she tried to pass by the men.

  All three of them closed around her. They each had a gun on her. The leader said, “You might not be looking for something, but you found something. Come with us now, chica.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The men walked Sid into the tattoo parlor and led her into the back. Her escorts seized her wrists with strong, calloused hands and pushed her into one of the tattoo chairs. They held her fast as the bigger man drew the curtain, closing them inside.

  He put his face close to hers. “You aren’t a bit frightened, are you?”

  Sid didn’t reply.

  The leader stuffed his semi-automatic into the back of his pants. “I like that. A strong woman. I can see you have some fight in you. Let’s take a look at those eyes.” He removed her sunglasses. “Nice eyes. I like nice eyes. Nice people have nice eyes.”

  He tossed the glasses down on a metal toolbox and picked up a tattoo gun. “Do you have any tattoos, chica?”

  “What’s your game?” Sid strained against her captors a little. The muscles in their jaws flexed. “Only a fool snatches a woman off the streets in broad daylight.”

  “I did it for your own good. Only a fool snoops on the Drake in broad daylight. Chica, they could see you coming from a mile away.”

  “So you’re their watchdog?”

  He held the tattoo gun up to her cheek. “No, I’m the dog watcher.” He hung the tattoo gun on the back of the chair. His tone softened. He gave his men a nod, and they let her go. “My name is Mark.” He showed her his bicep. Among the many colors and patterns was a picture of a church and steeple. The pillars in the front were swords. “Do you know what that is?”

  “I’m tempted to say art, but art is in the eye of the beholder, so I’m just going to call it a tattoo.”

  “No, that’s a church. The Church of Nigil.” He watched her, waiting to see if his words sank in.

  Sid’s sharp mind was as weary as her body, but finally, the Church of Nigil rang a bell. They were the old knights that fought against the shifters. “I know it.” She eyed the curtain.

  “Don’t worry about speaking out loud here, Sidney. That curtain is a sound baffle.”

  “How’d you know my name?”

  “I know all about you and John Smoke. The question is, what in the world are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Delta Charlie.”

  Sid fought a yawn. Despite the rugged appearance, Mark had a warm glow when he spoke that he hadn’t had before. “No offense, Mark, but I don’t know you from Adam. I think I’ll keep that information to myself.”

  Mark rubbed his stern jaw. “Don’t rush out of here yet. Just give me a minute.” He took his phone from his pocket and sent a text. “Well, maybe a little longer. Listen, Sid, if you got something going on in that hive of darkness across the street, you need to tell me.”

  “And if you’ve had eyes on it all this time, then you should be able to tell me.”

  “Good point. The hearses come and go, day and night, but it’s always quiet within. Aside from the days they have actual funerals. They do many. It’s all a front for the drugs they turn loose on the streets. Dead dealers need burials.”

  “Drugs? Are you sure that’s the extent of their operation? I’m not so certain you know as much as you think about the shifters then.”

  “I know plenty.”

  “I don’t think you do.”

  Mark’s eyes slid over to his men. “Give us a moment, eh.”

  The men vanished through the heavy curtain.

  Mark’s phone buzzed. He checked the message. “Huh? I didn’t realize. Smoke isn’t with you because you think he’s in there, don’t you?” He shook his head. “So sorry.”

  “What? How did you know that? Who are you texting with?” She started to reach for the phone but pulled back. “You didn’t know, did you.”

  “Sorry, I called your bluff, Sid. I texted my wife and told her I wanted Chinese tonight. She responded, ‘Then don’t forget to pick it up on your way home.’ She has a wonderful sense of humor. She needs it. She’s a terrible cook but excellent with takeout.”

  Mad with herself, she said, “Mark, I don’t have time for this. I need to go. If Smoke is in there, then I can’t afford to waste any time. I have to find him.”

  “Ah, I see. You think he’s targeted for the transformation. That’s bad.” He started toggling through his phone screen. He fished out a pair of reading glasses from his pocket. “Sometimes the lettering is so tiny.”

  Sid caught a wisp of gray hair on his jet-black head that she hadn’t noticed before. “You know, Mark, you don’t look like a knight, at least not how I’d envision a modern-day version of it.”

  “I know, it’s the tattoos. I became a knight after the fact. The knights are mostly watchers now. They seek out men with good hearts who can blend in. The truth is, despite my age, I’m still new to it. This hub is my first assignment.”

  “So the knights have eyes on the Drake everywhere?”

  “Everywhere we can keep up with, I’d say. But when the Drake catches on to our presence…” He slashed his finger across his throat and made a sound. “It’s all over.”

  She watched him intently study his phone. “So, did you find anything? Any funerals in the near future?”

  “No, they don’t advertise so much on the web. I’m just checking the Chinese menu. I’m hungry, but the wife has me on a diet where I only eat breakfast and dinner.” He rubbed his stomach. “I could eat a cow right now.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Smoke’s eyes opened. He was strapped down to a hospital bed with a bright white light shining in his face. The bed he lay on was tilted up almost forty-five degrees, to the point where he could see his toes. The only stitch of clothing he had
on was his boxer-briefs. Electrode patches covered his chest and shoulders. An IV was running into his vein. A heart monitor beeped at his side.

  Great Dane, what’s going on now?

  He thrust against the straps. The leather cuffs binding his arms and ankles held him fast. His breathing quickened. The air from unseen ducts was chill and icy. It broke him out in goose bumps. He twisted his head around from side to side. He was in an operating room not much different than any such room he’d ever been in before. This time, however, he was the patient.

  He searched the room, eyes sliding from place to place. A round clock reading 12:12 hung crooked on the wall. The red second hand didn’t work. There was another bed pushed to the side of the room. The sheets on it had dark patches of blood all over. The smell of formaldehyde hung in the air. There was the stench of something sour, too. Behind his head, he heard drops of water splattering on the floor with a steady drip-drip-drip.

  Smoke closed his eyes. He breathed in and out, easy. Until now, he had felt in control of things. The tide had turned. The Drake meant business, and the time to put him through the wringer had come. They were going to change him even if it killed him.

  The double doors popped open. A meaty woman entered the room, slouched over a hospital cart whose wheels wobbled and squeaked as if it were a bad grocery cart. She brought it to a stop alongside his bed. She didn’t look at him, but she made an awful chewing sound with her mouth.

  “Excuse me,” he said to her, “but could you call my medical insurance carrier? I don’t think I have coverage for this operation.”

  She turned. Her saggy face had milky eyes.

  Under his skin, he felt invisible spiders crawling up his bones.

  She sucked her gums. “My insurance didn’t help me none either, funny one. But your blood makes a fine deposit.” The blind woman shuffled away, muttering to herself, “Days like this, I wish I was deaf instead of blind. I hate the sound of a man screaming.”

  The chill wore off. Smoke’s blood started to churn. He studied the shiny medical tools and concoctions. Everything on the table was more than enough to take a man apart and put him back together again.

  Maybe bounty hunter wasn’t such a good career choice.

  Kane kicked open the doors. His hands were up in the air and clean. Allison was with him. They both wore dark-gray hospital scrubs. So did the handful of nurses who came in with them and surrounded the table.

  Allison loomed over Smoke’s head. Her scrubs were skin tight. “Miss me, Smokey? I look good in everything, don’t I?”

  “I’ll admit, I haven’t seen you look bad in anything yet. It’s the company you keep that makes you look bad. Well, that and the fact that your heart is three sizes too small.”

  She stroked his face. “Oh, don’t be a grinch, Smokey. We’re going to be one happy family once all this is over. You’ll see.” She looked at Kane. “I can’t wait to see what becomes of him.”

  “Assuming that he survives.” One of the nurse assistants covered Kane’s mouth with the surgical mask. A second assistant added gloves to his hands. “Ah, Mister Smoke, just so you know, much of what we are about to do is very painful.”

  “I suppose it’s too late to ask for anesthetic.”

  “No, we wouldn’t want to do that. You’re being given a great gift, but you’ll have to earn it. Just like the rest of us did.” He picked up a scalpel. “But you’re a tough guy. I’m sure you won’t scream out so much as the rest.”

  “Did you scream when they did this to you?”

  Kane’s brows lifted. “You know, it’s been so long that I can’t remember. But I assume it’s safe to say I did.” He leaned close. The scalpel hovered inches from Smoke’s abdomen.

  “Hold on. I don’t willingly succumb to any of this.”

  “We know,” Kane said. “That’s why we’re doing it this way.” He nodded at Allison.

  Allison stuck another needle into Smoke’s arm. She hung a new bag filled with green liquid on the IV pole. There was an arcane symbol on the transparent bag.

  “If that’s antifreeze, it better be Prestone,” Smoke remarked.

  “How are his vitals?” Kane asked Allison.

  “He might as well be sleeping.”

  “Good, but that will change soon enough. Turn the juice on.”

  Allison gave Kane a funny look. “This one, or that one?”

  “The electrodes. Set them to number three.”

  “Say, that’s my lucky number.” Smoke started to sing, “Man and a woman had a little ba-a-by, and there was three-ee-ee-ee in the family.” A current of electricity coursed through his body. He lurched on the table.

  “I said three! Not six!” Kane said.

  “Sorry.” Allison turned down the dial. “I just didn’t like that song, but I don’t want you biting your tongue off. I’m certain it can be useful.” She stuffed a mouth guard in his face and secured it with a strap over his head. “There, Smokey.”

  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.”