“Get him off!” Sam yelled.
Guppy swerved left and right, screeching the tires.
The man clung to the vehicle like a leech, with an evil look in his eye.
Sam balled up in her seat.
Smoke shouted, “Cover your ears!” He started shooting.
Blam! Blam! Blam!
The man on the hood disappeared.
“Stop shooting, Smoke! You’re killing my ears! And you just blasted out my window!” Guppy craned his neck around. “Where’d that fiend go?”
There was no sign of the man. The sound of the wind whistling through the windshield was their only company.
“Maybe you got him.” Sam was rubbing her temples. “Oh man, I hope you got him. Those eyes.”
“Just keep driving.” Smoke’s skin was still crawling. “And no matter what happens, you and Sam get to safety.”
Visibly bewildered, Sam said, “What are you talking about? You aren’t leaving.”
Like a pair of can openers, two hands burst through and started peeling the steel roof back, leaving a gaping hole over their heads.
Smoke fired upward.
Blam!
A hand burst through the driver-side window and seized his arm. With inhuman strength, it ripped the gun free of his grip and threw it off to the side of the road.
“Get out of here!” Smoke grabbed the hand that had grabbed his and tried to reel the man in. He braced his boots against the car’s body and tugged with all his might.
The hand jerked itself free.
Smoke searched for a gun.
Guppy handed him one, saying, “Don’t miss.”
“Just get Sam to safety,” Smoke said. “I’ll handle this.” He popped up out of the gap in the roof and found himself face to face with the eerie vampire. He unloaded every bullet the gun had into its chest.
The vampire shrugged it off. “Say farewell to your friends.”
Smoke propelled himself into the man, knocking them both off the roof of the car and landing hard on the ground.
***
“Turn around, Guppy! I said, turn around!”
“No can do, honey.”
Sam grabbed at the wheel. “You have to go back!”
“You heard what he said. Get you to safety. Nine times out of ten, I do what you say, but not this time, baby. Losing him is one thing, but losing you is another. Sorry Sam, but I can’t let anything happen to you. Smoke would agree.”
Gawking back through the back window, Sam said, “You’d better hope we see him again, or I’m going to kill you.”
***
Smoke hit the ground so hard it knocked the wind out of him. Every bone in his body was jarred. He felt like someone had just skipped him across a cement pond. Lucky for him, the body of the vampire had absorbed some of the impact, but now it was gone. Forcing himself to his hands and knees, Smoke started to stand.
“You might as well stay down,” said a voice with cold and confident smoothness. “You’ll be six feet under soon enough.”
Clutching his bruised ribs, Smoke rose up and faced the man in dark silks and slacks. There was something powerful in the man’s eyes that enhanced his sharp features. Built like a long and rangy fencer, he moved like a serpent, ready to strike at any moment. He approached Smoke and said, “I really hope you aren’t going to try and fight me. That would be stupid.”
“You must be Vormus.”
The man’s narrow brows lifted. “Ah, so you have heard of me.”
“A little crap bird told me you would have my guts for dinner.”
“Is that so? Well, I actually appreciate finer cuisine.” He locked his eyes on Smoke’s. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”
Smoke’s knees locked up. His lips wanted to speak with a life of their own and say yes. His mind and instincts resisted. Something dark and mysterious insisted on sucking him in, tempted and toyed with his inner weaknesses. Unable to unglue his eyes from the man’s, he felt a darkness envelop him and squeeze him like a constrictor snake.
Vormus came closer. Standing face to face, he tilted his head. “Come on, join me, and we both shall have a fine dinner. We can even invite your friends if you like.”
A fire ignited inside Smoke. A knife appeared in his hand and buried itself deep in the man’s chest.
“Fool!” Vormus roared. He hit Smoke hard in the face, knocking him into the street.
Cars rolled up on him, and headlights blinded his eyes for a moment. Smoke tried to shake away the dizziness as men popped their car doors open and people surrounded him.
Vormus pulled the blade from his chest. “I want him alive. I want him tormented.”
CHAPTER 9
It had been a rough ride back to The Guillotine. Taking the back entrance, Vormus’s thugs dragged Smoke downstairs into an office and walloped him good. A hard hit on the back of his head with a pistol knocked him out.
When Smoke woke up, the music was no longer pumping through the walls, but his head was pounding like a set of drums. He sat in an office chair with his arms bound behind his back.
“I told you that you couldn’t kill me,” said a rough voice. It was the red-headed deader that Smoke had filled with lead in the bathroom earlier. He’d changed his clothes and had a scarf wrapped around his neck. Murder was in his eyes. “Having a good time?”
“Not really,” Smoke said. “This club sucks. Maybe you should switch to a classic country theme.”
The red-haired European slugged him in the gut.
A rush of air whooshed from his lips. The stinging pain watered his eyes. “You’re awfully temperamental for someone who thinks he’ll live forever. Have you ever considered taking anti-depressants? You seem so bitter.”
The man drew back again.
“That’s enough, Carl. There will be plenty of time to play with him later.” It was Vormus who spoke. He sat behind a nice desk, modern, with lots of metal and glass. The entire office was very contemporary in construction. Soft neon lit the wet bars, shelves, and cabinets. There were more men in the office, too, all the ones from the picture. Five in all. Slick, pasty, and shady. The stench of death was on them. “I still have some questions to ask this man.”
Smoke rolled his head back. “I hope it’s trivia. I love trivia. What are the categories?”
Carl backhanded him across the face. “Shut up.”
Vormus held four fingers up. “Carl, please, be patient. I’m finding some pleasure in this fellow’s musings. I like him, such a change from the usual ones who beg for their lives.”
Poking his fingers into Smoke’s temple, Carl said, “You might not be begging now, but you will be.”
Smoke clammed up and looked away.
“That’s what I thought.” Carl backed away and took a seat on one of the leather chairs. “Punk.”
Smoke made a quick scan with his eyes. There were five men plus Vormus. His hands were bound with rope that bit into his wrists when he moved. His fingers were almost numb.
Got to give them credit, they weren’t stupid enough to use duct tape.
“So,” said the vampire, “we noticed you didn’t have any identification on you, but Carl says you are a veteran. Why don’t you fill us in on some details?”
Smoke continued to size these super-deaders up. None of them were armed. All of them were cocky and pale skinned, with an air of invincibility. Just like Carl. Smoke was used to blasting away bits and pieces of normal deaders, but these … they were different.
But everything has a weakness.
“Well,” Smoke said, “my father was a crop duster back in Iowa, and when I grew up, I decided I didn’t like the smell of pesticide, so I came to the big city. And boy, imagine my surprise when I got here only to find that it’s full of pests. Isn’t that sad?”
A couple of the goons chuckled. Carl started to stand. A scowl from Vormus sat him down again.
“I’m sorry,” Smoke said to Vormus, “was that too much detail?”
“It was so
mething,” Vormus said. He checked his long nails. “It seems our scuffle chipped one. You know, it won’t take much time for my crew to track down your allies and kill them. I suggest you become more forthcoming.”
“I don’t think you want my name. I think you just want someone to pick on.” Smoke eyed Carl. “Red over there picked the wrong fight with the wrong someone and lost. He’s just trying to save face, and here you are bailing him out. All because he screwed up.”
“Your argument does have some merit, but though Carl might be one to start a fight, I don’t think his intentions were wrong.” Vormus stood up, walked around the desk, leaned toward Smoke, and sniffed the air. “I can smell the good in you.” He leaned back on the desk. “It’s quite detestable. In a place like this, you couldn’t be less noticeable to us wearing a skunk on you.”
“Really? You can smell me?”
“Like bad fish at dinner.”
“You mean like good fish at dinner,” Smoke said, “because you say you can smell the good in me. So I’m like a well-seasoned Boston cod with a nice squeeze of lemon.”
Carl jumped up with balled fists. “Let me shred this disrespectful scum, Vormus! I can’t take any more!” His voice was hoarse, probably because of all the new holes in his neck.
Smoke gave the deader a sympathetic smile. “I can recommend some good cough syrup to clear up that itchy sound in your voice. It’s a family––”
Vormus clamped his hand over Smoke’s mouth and squeezed. The vampire’s slender hand had the power of a vice.
Smoke found himself staring into Vormus’s bright white eyes, unable to tear his gaze away.
In a strong voice that could enchant a statue, Vormus said, “Who are you?”
“John Smoke.”
“Who sent you, John Smoke?”
“Reginald.”
“And who does Reginald work for?”
“The Drake.”
Vormus nodded. “I see. And why would a good man like you be in the service of an establishment as foul as The Drake?”
“For money.”
Staring deeper into Smoke’s eyes, Vormus said to him, “No, it’s not money. Be truthful now.”
Squirming in his chair, Smoke said, “They have my friend.”
“Ah, extortion. Such a classic motivational vehicle.” Vormus backed away. “Now it all makes sense. And why were you sent? As a spy?”
“No,” Smoke said. His stomach was churning. “I was sent to kill you all.”
Vormus threw his head back and laughed.
The others joined in.
Finally, Vormus said, “I can’t believe they’d send a mortal to take us. Oh, how desperate The Drake has become since our arrival. Well brethren, let’s send The Drake a message from us. Have your fun, Carl. Torture this man, whatever you want. Whatever remains, we’ll send to The Drake in pieces.” He patted Smoke on the head and finished by saying, “Thanks for the best laugh I’ve had in decades.”
CHAPTER 10
As soon as Vormus departed, Carl was the first of The Many to rise. Two of the others joined him. Their jaws stretched open wide. Fangs grew inside their mouths. Saliva dripped from their razor-sharp teeth.
Smoke watched a new horror come to life, standing right in front of him. “Looks like you fellas missed your rabies shots. I know a really good veterinarian.”
Carl smote him in the jaw.
One of the men cackled like a hyena.
Behind his back, Smoke’s fingernails sawed at the cords that bound him. The diamond dust that coated his nails was always a good trick, but could he break free in time?
Keep ’em talking.
“I don’t suppose I get any final requests before my execution?”
One of the men slipped in behind him and clamped down on his shoulders. The long nails dug deep into his flesh. It was the one that cackled like a rotten teenager acting out some kind of cheap thrill. “You’ll be screaming out plenty of requests between the moments of torture.”
Carl snapped his fingers and eyed one of the men sitting on the couch. “The case, please?”
The man reached over the sofa arm and lifted up a burgundy leather case, one of the thick boxy ones that businessmen and accountants carry several files in. He tossed it to Carl, who snatched it out of the air and set it down. He popped open the latches on the top, and the case collapsed into a flat surface loaded with sharp, shiny metal.
Smoke’s throat tightened.
Lifting up a medical saw, Carl held it in front of Smoke. “I’m reneging on my promise to give you a proper veteran’s burial. You’ve pissed me off too much.” He reached behind him and pulled out a set of steel needles bound in black velvet cloth. “And I intend to make you apologize for every bit of it.”
“Seems odd to me that a mortal like me would be able to get under your clammy skin. Perhaps you’re full of regret.”
“Hah, hardly.” Carl lowered the needle and poked it into Smoke’s shoulder.
Smoke clenched his jaws. Sweat burst on his forehead. His nostrils flared, and his chest labored for breath. “I love acupuncture.”
With one brow hitched up, Carl drew forth another needle. “My, you really can’t help that big mouth, can you. But I’ll tell you what; this is going to be fun. That was only the first of many needles.”
“You mean you aren’t going to bite me, suck my blood?”
“We have all the blood we need.” Carl shoved another needle into the same shoulder, through one side and out the other.
Pain shot through every nerve in Smoke’s body. Black spots burst in his eyes. He didn’t scream. He practically spat when he said, “You’re not very good at this.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It doesn’t hurt enough.”
“That’s because I’m only toying with you. See, I’m slowing your blood flow so you don’t squirt everywhere.”
One of the other members fetched a roll of plastic and started spreading it out on the floor. Two others picked Smoke up in his chair and set him down in the middle of the plastic.
Carl picked up the bone saw. “It works pretty good most of the time, but it’s been a while.”
The smaller, younger-looking one let out another shrill cackle.
Smoke eyed him and then said to Carl, “And you think I’m annoying.”
“I adore Julius’s enthusiasm. So should you. Okay gentleman, hold him still. I don’t want him kicking when I saw his leg off.”
“I thought you were sawing my arm off?”
“Oh, I just said that. You’re going to bleed everywhere when we—huh?”
Smoke’s fingernails had cut through the last of the woven cord. Summoning his strength and fighting against the inferno inside his shoulder, he tore from his bonds and burst into action, rushing out of the chair, twisting from Julius’s grip, and charging Carl. He shattered Vampire Junior’s knee with a well-placed kick.
With a wail, Carl crumpled to the floor.
Smoke jumped over the steel and glass desk. Hiding under it, he stuck his fingers into his jeans pocket and fetched out a bright-green pill, popped it in his mouth, and clamped down.
The Many slung the desk off him, shattering the glass.
Smoke leg-swept one of them, only to see him bounce up again instantly. He ripped the needles free of his shoulder just as Julius attacked.
Fast and strong, the younger fiend plowed into Smoke and pinned him against the wall, cackling like a wild hyena. “You just went from worse to worser!”
Smoke rammed the needles through Julius’s throat. “How’s that for worser, idiot?”
These junior monsters might have been hard to kill, but they were only average fighters. Bloody shoulder dripping, Smoke fought them off with anything he could get a hold of. He’d held up for a few seconds when they cornered him and got the drop on him and hammered away with their fists.
Overwhelmed by their power, busted up and bloody, Smoke sagged to the floor.
“Get up, you!” A b
it bigger than the rest, this one picked Smoke up like a child and shoved him into the wall.
Smoke hit the wall and bounced back through the cocktail bar.
Carl braced himself against the wall. “You’re making a mess, everyone! Vormus won’t like it. Let’s finish him off without trashing this office. Have some fun, but be done with it.”
With his energy drained, Smoke let the men shove him around like a rag doll. One would push and another one would hit him in a brutal game of tag. He addressed himself to Julius, who still had the needles sticking out of his throat. “What’s the matter, not speaking to me?”
Julius punched him hard in the ribs and gave him a hard shove into the main office door. The deadbolt on it wasn’t locked.
Carl was sitting on the tumbled desk. “Go ahead, Mister Smoke. Run. We’re having fun. We can allow you a few precious moments. Please, go ahead.”
“You could hear a pin drop when Johnny stopped and locked the door,” Smoke replied. He shoved the deadbolt into place, sealing them all inside.
“Johnny? Who the hell’s Johnny?” Carl asked.
All of Smoke’s attackers glanced at each other. Some of them shrugged.
Smoke staggered along the glass wall, where a fireman’s axe hung inside a glass case. He busted it out and took it by the haft. “It’s a song.”
“About a fireman?” said one of The Many.
“No,” said another, “I think it’s a scene from The Shining. You know, ‘Here’s Johnny.’”
Nodding his head, the first member said, “I like that movie.”
Smoke cracked his neck from side to side, his blood now racing through his veins. His pain was gone. Every limb ignited with fire. “It’s from The Gambler, you idiots, a made-for-TV cowboy movie starring Kenny—”
“I thought the Indians carried the axes in those movies,” said the biggest one.
Smoke attacked through the glass wall, chopping the big one down first. The axe bit hard into its knee and brought it down like a falling tree.
One down, four to go.
The fireman’s axe had a nasty pick on the back end, made to tear through walls. He tore a hole out of another member’s head. Fast as a wild tiger Smoke attacked, hacking down one member after another.
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 6 thru 10 (Smoke Special Edition Book 2) Page 4