“Sidney.”
“As long as you’re here, you might as well get a gander at the rotting gem on the table.” He moved slowly across the room in three steps. With the steady and strong fingers of a dentist, he peeled back the sheet. “There you go. Have a look. He’s finished, mostly.”
The tightness in Sid’s face eased. The man on the table wasn’t Smoke. It was a big-framed man covered in tattoos from head to toe. The mark of a rising black sun like an eye was on him in many places. Thank the Lord it’s not John!
“Interesting reaction,” Frank said. “You were expecting someone else, I see.”
“Everyone’s a detective these days. But yes, I was thinking it was someone else, and I’m glad it isn’t.” Her hand dropped toward her waist, and her fingers stretched for her gun. As she went for the weapon, she refrained. Frank was imposing, but he hadn’t posed a threat. Instead, he moved about like an old doctor past his prime but filled with wisdom, taking his own time about how he went about things. Sensing an opportunity, she said, “Has anyone ever told you that you look like—”
“Fred Gywnne? Certainly, I’m his brother.”
Sid’s jaw dropped.
Frank chuckled. “I’m teasing, young lady. I’m of no relation to that lovable and affable Munster. Unlike him, I have a much darker side. Besides, I was more of a Ted Cassidy fan, myself.” He ran his fingers over the dead man’s face. “It seems I have a little too much embalming buildup there.” With his thumbs, he smoothed out a bulge that formed a crease in the man’s neck. “That’s better. You know, the tattooed ones are some of the best ones to do. The ink gives them the appearance of life. Especially in the face, but not many have their faces inked. Many of the Indians used paints during their burials,” he said as if he had been there way back when. “I learned many traits from the Indians.”
“Thanks for the history lesson. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll let you get back to work.” She made for the door.
In a long side step, Frank cut her off. A sharp scalpel appeared in his hand. Casting a vulture-like glance down on Sid, he said, “Tell me, who are you really looking for? Perhaps I can help.”
“It’s private.” Sid’s thoughts ran through a checklist. If the Drake was making plans to transform Smoke, this man would know something about that. If Frank is a shifter, just remember how cocky they are. She decided to play her card. “I’m looking for a big guy. He might have come here with Kane and Allison.”
“It takes a lot of guts to drop right into a nest of vipers, Sidney. Perhaps I should remove them from you.”
Feeling his cold, fetid breath on her face, she replied, “You’d be surprised at the number of vipers I’ve killed.”
“Bravado. I like it.”
Sid went for her gun.
Quick as a snake, Frank seized her wrist.
She punched him in the face with a hard fist.
His teeth clattered, but he held her fast.
Sid kneed his groin. The move drew forth a mocking chuckle.
“Little woman, your struggles are in vain.” Frank yanked Sid into him. His arms enveloped her body. He lifted her from the ground and squeezed with the strength of a bear.
“Uh!” Sid moaned. Her ribs cracked. Frank’s powerful squeeze made her eyes bulge. “Let go of me.”
“It’s been a long time since I squeezed a person to death. Long ago, the Kanawha Indians called me Eh-hef-haloom. That was their word for bear breaker. I was the only person they ever saw kill a bear with his hands. Not long after that, I killed them. A lost tribe now forgotten, even in the history books, but there’s a county named after them.”
Fighting for breath, Sid tried to scream. No sound came, only pain that felt like sharp daggers piercing her spine.
Crack!
Sid’s thoughts went into overdrive. Oh no! My back! The fear of paralysis surged through her. More cracking sounds followed. She could see her vertebrae popping out of place. The worst of the worst was happening.
Suddenly, her captor wobbled.
She slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor, sucking for air.
The room exploded into a battleground of surging bodies. From out of nowhere, Mark plowed into Frank like a charging bull. He drove Frank back into his desk.
Frank jammed the scalpel into Mark’s back.
“Gah!”
Detective Hawthorne swung a length of pipe into Frank’s big jaw.
The big man’s head twisted away then back again with a broad grin. He slung Mark’s bleeding body away.
“What are you, some kind of geriatric terminator?” Detective Hawthorne cocked back for another swing. She turned it loose.
Frank caught the pipe. With a jerk of his hand, he tore it from her grip. Catching her gaping, he clubbed her with it. The first hit busted her arm just below the shoulder. The second blow would have crushed her skull.
But Hawthorne snaked her head out of the way. She didn’t stand a chance against the third strike that Frank prepared to bring. He was a mauler with intent to kill.
“Cadavers, cadavers, I like fresh cadavers,” he said.
Detective Slade appeared in the doorway. “What in the world is going on here?”
Crawling back on her butt, Hawthorne said, “Shoot that spooky bastard!”
Slade jerked his pistol out. He hesitated to fire.
“Now, Slade!” Hawthorne yelled.
Slade cracked off three shots, center mass. Blam! Blam! Blam!
Frank kept coming.
CHAPTER 14
Sid caught her breath. Regaining her senses, she freed her Glock from the back of her pants. As Frank closed in on Hawthorne and Slade, ready to unload paralyzing swings, she cracked off several shots, hitting Frank square in the knees. The bullets ripped through his slacks into his flesh.
Frank tumbled forward in a lurch. He hit the linoleum face first.
With agony in his eyes but determination and strength in his limbs, Mark jumped on Frank’s back. He wrestled the pipe free. With the help of an angry Detective Hawthorne, he wrenched the mortician’s arms behind his back.
“Cuff him, Slade! Cuff him!” Hawthorne demanded.
Detective Slade shackled the man. With his key, he double-locked the cuffs. Looking at Frank’s wrists, he said, “That was close. For a minute there, I thought I was going to need bigger handcuffs. What’s this goon wearing, body armor?”
Frank laughed when they propped him up against the wall.
“That’s creepy,” Slade said. He found Sid. “Are you okay?”
“I’m still breathing.” She sucked in through her teeth, wincing, and forced herself to her feet. “Keep him quiet. I’ve got to look for somebody.”
“Somebody who?” Hawthorne rubbed her busted arm. “Geez, ugly grandpa almost broke me. I’ve never seen an old dude move like that before.” She kicked Frank but spoke to Sid. “If you’re looking for somebody, no doubt this Franken Creep knows something. I say we squeeze it out of him.”
“Good luck with that, little lady,” Frank said.
“He’s not going to be forthcoming, trust me,” Sid said, grimacing and avoiding Frank’s eyes while she dug his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll be back.” Before she left, she said to Mark, “You gonna make it?”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve been tapped. I’m sure it won’t be the last. I’ll live. Just go.”
Sid slipped out of the room only to find a shadow behind her. It was Slade. The older man had a cool and steely resolve. He was nothing like the young and flashy characters she grew up watching on TV. There was something hard nosed and old school about him.
He holstered his gun.
“I wouldn’t do that if you’re coming along,” she said.
“Duly noted, but just so you know, I’m not the best shot. I’m more of a ‘have wits, will travel’ kind of guy.” He followed after her down the hall. “So who are you looking for?”
“My husband.”
“I see. You know, you could
have just asked for some assistance from the—”
Sid stopped in her tracks and put a finger to his lips. “Listen, Slade. You need to know there are more people like that man back there. A lot more. This isn’t an adventure of just flesh and blood, but rather powers and principalities. I don’t think you’re ready for it.”
Slade’s right brow arched. “I’m not going anywhere, sister. This is Vegas. It’s been a long time since I was shocked by what I saw. Lead the way.”
The basement tunneled into a corridor of doors. It was quiet and stark. Sid flipped a switch. The fluorescent lights in the hall flickered on with a steady hum. Some of the tubes were dead. Others faded in and out, but the light was ample. One door at a time, she entered room after room. The doors were heavy steel bars that locked from the outside. The first room she entered was painted on all four walls, views of an extravagant apartment looking out over Central Park.
Slade whistled when he walked in. “Whoa, now this is weird.” He traced his finger over the huge glass pane window that was painted on the wall. He fingered Central Park. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to the Big Apple. This makes for an interesting trip. Some of this paint is peeling, though.” He turned around slowly, taking in the entire room. “That’s odd. This layout is from the sixties, like a scene from Mad Men. Have you ever watched that show?”
“No.” Sid kicked at the only real piece of furniture on the slab floor, a metal spring cot with a withering mattress on it. “Let’s see what’s behind door number two.”
She unlocked one room after the other. All of the walls were painted in grand, realistic detail. There was a view from Paris and of the London Tower. Niagara Falls was one of the rooms. There were houses, mansions, and gardens. There were blood stains on the floor in some. Cots in most but not all. She was almost to the end of the hall when she noticed that one of the doors was open. Light came out the door.
She stepped inside, lost her breath, and dropped her gun.
Slade edged in behind her. He moved to the center of the room and wheeled around on the back of his heel. “This is pretty crappy. What is it?”
Sid didn’t want to say, but she did anyway. “It’s my home.”
CHAPTER 15
Sid sat on the cot in the middle of the room with the willies dancing up her arms. The images on the wall weren’t as perfect as a picture, but the clarity was there. It was the interior of her and Smoke’s garage apartment, down to the coffee pot in the kitchenette corner.
“You live here, huh?” Slade said, sliding along the edge of the wall. “Well, it’s quaint, I’ll give you that. Sorry, I didn’t see the initial charm in it.” He sniffed. “Smell that?”
Sid wiped her nose. A chemical smell lingered. She leaned down and gave the blankets on the cot a whiff. “Some kind of gas was ignited in here. Maybe a sleeping agent of some sort.” She felt dead inside. Her heart was sinking. Smoke had been in here. She was certain of it. Now, he was gone.
“You might want to invest in some better security at wherever this place is. Looks like someone got a good look.” Slade pointed at the computer and desk painted on the wall. “These monitors have little cameras in them. Hackers can spy from there, good and bad ones. It’s hard to buy a computer without one these days. I put a piece of masking tape over my camera.” His eye caught something. He walked over and picked up a metal canister. “Well, looky here. You were right. It’s a sleeping agent. XSD10. The lab guys down at LVPD might be able to trace it.”
“Or not. No, I think Frank might be able to answer some questions if we can get it out of him.”
“Let’s take him down to the station. You can file a missing persons.”
Sid got up on her feet. “Don’t take this wrong, but this isn’t your typical kidnapping. All of this is off the books. Besides, we don’t really have anything.”
Slade pointed at the door. “That man back there, Frank, assaulted two police officers. That’s more than enough to get the ball rolling.”
“I don’t need your help. Just let me talk to him, okay?”
“Fine. I’ll give you a few minutes to convince me.” Slade made his way to the door. “After you.”
As soon as they crossed the threshold, they encountered Mark and Hawthorne lumbering down the hall. Their faces were filled with shock and surprise.
“What happened?” Sid yelled.
Catching her breath, Hawthorne said, “Frankenberry got the jump on us. He’s gone.”
“Jump on you? How?” Slade was incredulous.
Hawthorne tossed Slade his cuffs. “He slipped out of those like Houdini.”
“No way, I double-locked them.”
Hawthorne shrugged and rubbed a knot on her head. “We tried to stop him, but he overpowered us. It was like wrestling a mule.”
“Then he cracked our heads together like a pair of coconuts kissing.” Mark was rubbing his head too. “I still have blinding fireworks in my eyes. He said something just before he did that.” He shook his head. “Uh, what was it?”
Hawthorne glared at Mark. “He said, ‘Tell Sid that she’s far too late. The next time she sees Smoke, it will be all over. Tell her she should go home and enjoy her final days.’”
***
The drive home across the country in the Hellcat was long and miserable. The stretches of barren highway were agonizing. Sid didn’t want to talk to anybody. She sulked. Smoke was lost. He was a cloud of dust.
She had managed to stick around a little longer in Vegas, but after a few hours, the truth had sunk in. Kane and Allison were two steps ahead of her. Now, despite the assistance she was offered by Mark, Slade, and Hawthorne, she had to go home. Go home and wait. Wait and pray.
She tried to find that silver lining in the clouds, but it wasn’t there. If Kane truly tried to transform Smoke, she knew her husband would die first. She would too, at least that’s what she thought. Driving with her taillights to the sun sinking in the west, she felt the baby kick. The child might be all she had left of Smoke. Might be his legacy. Their legacy together.
Her throat tightened with memories. The first time she met Smoke—tall, dark, and mysterious. Trying to trip her up with clever words. She’d liked it. He had reeled her in with quirky mannerisms and vanishing acts that made him hard to hold. Her heart ached. It was the closest she ever felt to being a military wife, someone married to a soldier who gallivanted off to battle and never returned again. Who would deliver the dark message if Smoke never returned? What if she never knew?
No, I’ll see Allison again. She can’t stay out of my business. She wouldn’t pass an opportunity to gloat. And what about Megan? You still have to fight for her, Sid.
She sped through West Virginia and finally hit DC a few hours later. It was late evening, and traffic was light. Finally, she hit the highway and turned down the state road, where the pine trees lined up mile after mile on either side. She turned down the drive, hoping to see a light in the garage apartment, but the lights were dim. She backed into the garage, locked up the Hellcat, and went to the apartment.
It was cold inside the studio. She started to turn the thermostat up. Instead, she trudged over to the bed, covered up in the blankets, and cried.
CHAPTER 16
Smoke woke up. He lay on a cold, hard floor staring upward. No ceiling lingered above, only darkness. A chilly draft caressed the hairs on his body like mistress death. His feet were freezing. He spied the light sources. Small round domes were mounted in the cinderblock walls. The doorway gave off an eerie glow.
He crawled up onto his hands and knees. The burning in his blood had subsided, but there was still pain, inside and out. He pushed up to his feet and discovered he wore only a clean set of trousers. He shuffled to the outer edge of the room, marking off twenty paces between the center and the wall. The room was oblong. The tops of the walls ended in darkness. They must have been twenty feet tall.
Holding his stomach, he walked along the wall and stopped at a metal door. He started po
unding on it. “Kane! Let me out! I’m tired of playing your games.”
A flicker of electricity caught his ears. High above him, suspended by chains, centuries-old candelabra hung. The newly installed bulbs lit up one at a time.
Smoke scanned more of the room. It was an arena of some sort, musty and unkempt. It was old, but with a few modern repairs. Rows of chairs encircled the main floor, tucked safely atop a thirty-foot riser. He slowly spun around, stopping when he spied Kane and Allison sitting in one of the rows, holding hands.
“It’s good to see you awake, Smoke,” Kane said, making a smile full of little teeth. “I didn’t think you’d sleep too long. They never do. At least, not the ones that live. Good for you. I must say, part of me is disappointed. The other part, not so much.”
“So what’s the next step, gladiator games?”
“You might say that. We’ve all been here. We call this place the Proving Grounds.” Kane leaned over and let Allison whisper in his ear. He nodded and smiled. “You’ve survived the transfusion stage. Now, it’s time to see if that transfusion had lasting effects. The burning in your arms, well, a little bit of adrenaline will do you a world of good. It’s euphoria, you’ll see.”
“Are you going to come down here yourself and see if it’s working?”
“Clever, Smoke. No, I’m going to watch with a bird’s-eye view. Believe me, once you get those extremities going, you’ll thank me.” Kane called out to someone hidden in the stands. His voice echoed. “Release the deaders.”
The metal door slid upward. Smoke dashed for it. The door stopped less than a foot off the floor. Smoke couldn’t even squeeze through it.
Kane was laughing. “Oh, I knew you would try that. They all do. But let it be known: that isn’t an escape route. It’s a labyrinth of death. No, no, no, Smoke. Just look behind you.”
Trap doors opened up in the floor. Deaders scrambled out. The concealed doors snapped shut again. Three deaders lumbered out. Each of them carried a baseball bat. Dressed in grimy mechanic’s overalls, they converged on Smoke.
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 6 thru 10 (Smoke Special Edition Book 2) Page 43