The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 6 thru 10 (Smoke Special Edition Book 2)

Home > Other > The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 6 thru 10 (Smoke Special Edition Book 2) > Page 53
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 6 thru 10 (Smoke Special Edition Book 2) Page 53

by Craig Halloran


  “John Smoke will. He has to. He’s only hours away from losing himself forever. Come, let’s take a stroll down to the control room.” He drained his glass and set it on the bar. “I’m curious to see when we can expect our guests to arrive.”

  Downstairs at ground level, the panel door slid open to the control room. Allison entered first, followed by Kane.

  Frank the mortician stood inside, staring at one of the many oversized monitors on the wall. The older lanky man was nearly seven feet tall, even with his slouch. He wore an old grey suit, a matching collared shirt, and a tie that would have been in style decades ago. He did an about-face. “Kane and Allison, a pleasure. Please, come inside and I’ll fill you in.” He beckoned them over with a hand that seemed too big for his body. “It’s been interesting.”

  “Really, how so?” Kane stepped down a level.

  In the voice of an old, loving grandfather, Frank said, “Rich and Sherry have been a little slow on the uptake, but they are coming around.”

  Allison moved down the steps in front of the two people who sat behind their computer consoles. They were a young pair with dead black eyes that had once been brighter colors. Their skin was pale and clammy with prominent veins. With steady fingers, they worked the keyboards.

  “I see,” Kane said with a little smile. “They’ve never looked deader.”

  “Chuckles, my liege. Well said. Thanks to the moon, they are shaking off the sluggish effects.”

  “Excellent. It’s so difficult to find mortals we can trust with these things. And the payroll taxes, such a bear. No more of that anymore.” Kane slapped the counter. “After tonight it will be full speed ahead for our operation. Shifters and deaders only. So delightful.” He faced the screen. “So, where’s that battish shifter Mister Smoke now?”

  “He’s still under the bridge,” Frank said. The image zoomed in. Smoke’s mark was prominent on the screen. “I think they’re over-planning. Wasting time. Perhaps they have doubts.”

  Kane checked the clock on the wall. “It’s been two hours. What about Cyrus?”

  “He and Miss Rebecca Lang were tailed to a police station. He resides in custody there.”

  “I see. We’ll deal with them on the morrow.” Fingers needling his chin, Kane moved closer to the big screen. “This is odd. And they are how far away?”

  “I’d say under an hour. There’s no traffic this time of night. Perhaps forty-five minutes.”

  “Trouble, Kane?” Allison said.

  “Perhaps.”

  “You don’t seem fully confident.”

  “I didn’t live this long without being cautious. The secret to my success is staying one step ahead of my foes.” The lights and screens in the room flickered the slightest. “That’s odd.”

  “There’s been some very minor surges, hardly noticeable,” Frank said. “Did you notice any upstairs?”

  “No, the office offers the ambience of gas lighting. Far more reliable than all of these demonic electric circuits that this deteriorating world relies on. Ah, it seems the mark is moving, finally.” His fingers rubbed inside his palms. “Frank, keep me apprised. The final stage of the game is afoot.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Smoke was on the roof of a twenty-story-high apartment complex. From the ledge, he looked out over the Drake Energy compound. The spotlights that typically lit up the compound lot like daylight had been dimmed. Whatever roamed inside the fence, Kane didn’t want it to be seen. Typically, there were ten peacoats on duty day and night. In all, there were twenty-five of them on rotating shifts.

  The stiff wind bit into his furry hide, but he didn’t feel it. His body burned. He was on fire inside. The beast inside coiled back, ready to lash out. He moved toward the river side of the building. Tall pines lining the Drake Complex hid the dock from full view, but he made out the yacht. He spoke into a Bluetooth device strapped around his wrist. It linked him up to Guppy.

  “The boat’s in the water. I don’t want anyone from the Drake getting away. I don’t want to see a chopper landing either. Keep eyes on the sky.”

  “Got it, Smoke. The fish are in the water.”

  “Literally? They shouldn’t be.”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t think of a better analogy. It’s covered.”

  “Good. I’m going after the control room.”

  “No. Wait, Smoke,” Guppy said. “I’ve got eyes and ears inside. Access to everything. Whatever they see, I can see. And I hear what they hear, in some places. We’ve got audio on Kane. He’s not expecting you for forty-five minutes.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “I heard it too,” Mal said.

  “And me, John,” Sidney added. “Maybe we should go back to plan A and bull-rush this thing.”

  Smoke heard everyone linked to him perfectly. Everyone was connected. “I’m going to do some recon first. Who knows, I might get a nice window.”

  “I’ll give you fifteen minutes, John. Not a second more. We’re coming in after that,” Sid said.

  “Just stay put. I’ll be back in touch. Guppy, if you can see those cameras, tell me, what are you looking at? How many men? Deaders? Shifters?”

  “You’ve got four men at the lone entrance. Three more are posted at the dock. Seven are doing a foot patrol. My guess is there are more inside. It’s a pretty big complex. Mal’s looking for interior feeds.”

  “There aren’t any interior feeds,” Smoke said. “They only care about what’s on the outside getting in.”

  “Well, you have three in the control room. Kane’s up in his office — with Allison, I suppose.” Guppy cleared his throat. “Aside from the peacoats, nothing else is moving.”

  “What about all of those marks?” Smoke asked. “None of them are moving on the grounds?”

  “No. Huh.”

  “Huh, what?” Smoke asked.

  “I’m guessing they’re all inside.”

  “Fine. I have to go silent. Time to get moving.” Smoke muted himself on the Bluetooth. It freed him up a little. The communication gadgets were aggravating. It would be a distraction if they didn’t maintain radio discipline and everyone spoke at once.

  Then he heard Guppy say, “Fifteen minutes, starting now.”

  With the complex dark, it gave Smoke an edge. He didn’t need Guppy to dicker with the lighting. He could glide right in, but flying wasn’t something he’d mastered. His gear would weigh him down too. He stood on the building ledge and spread his arms out wide, then leapt high and outward. He flapped his arms, catching the wind drifting under his wings.

  This feels good.

  He banked toward the river, staying as high as he could. He could make out figures posted along the dock that led up to the yacht. He glided a little closer down. He could make out the men breathing with his enhanced hearing. He listened for anyone moving on the boat. Rubber soles let out quiet squeaks on the polished wooden deck. Something that breathed really heavily resided in the cabin.

  More shifters. It’s got to be. Deaders don’t breathe.

  “Fourteen minutes,” Guppy said.

  Smoke fought off the urge to pluck the earpiece out.

  That’s annoying.

  Circling, he glanced at the landing spot he had in mind, the roof. It was a field covered in a black tar top. Above the view of the cameras were peacoats posted on every corner. One of them worked with a pair of binoculars, scanning the grounds as well as the sky.

  Time to see how good you are, Johnnie Boy.

  Years ago, when he was in the Navy Seals, Smoke had crept up on plenty of unsuspecting foes and killed them. It was the same thing now, except he was more than twice as dangerous as he’d been before. It should be easy. All of the guards’ backs were turned. Not a one of them looked back at the other. He had to be quick and careful. One stray gunshot cracking off would be like thunder in the night. Chaos would erupt.

  A dark and stormy night would have been so much better.

  Smoke landed on cat feet several paces from the guard
holding the binoculars. He locked up the man’s head in a sleeper hold. Seconds later, the man sagged. Smoke dashed toward the next soldier and brought each one down, one after the other.

  Easy peasy.

  “Thirteen minutes.”

  Smoke unmuted his Bluetooth. “Just hold your horses. I’m on the roof, counting bodies and looking for an entrance. I can tell time. Lay off until the final minute unless I check in first.”

  “Roger that.”

  The building had an entrance on the roof. There was a magnetic lock. He tried one of the peacoat guards’ keycards, but it didn’t work. He linked back up with Guppy. “Can you unlock the rooftop door?”

  “I figure so,” Guppy replied. “Now.”

  Sid cut in, “No, John. Don’t go in there alone. It’s too dangerous. That place will be full of shifters. This is recon. You hear me?”

  “I do.” A soft scuffle caught his ear. He ducked. A powerful glancing blow clocked the back of his head. Stars streaked in his eyes.

  CHAPTER 7

  “What just happened?” Sid said, toying with her earpiece. “John? John?”

  “His link is off,” Guppy said with a shrug. “Probably nothing, you know him. Twelve minutes.”

  The group sat inside a large passenger van they’d switched to on the way over to the Drake Energy Plant. They were parked alongside the road a few blocks away. Sam, Guppy, Cort Calhoun, Russ, and Mal sat on the bench seats. Asia was elsewhere.

  “All of this waiting around is making me edgy,” Cort said, scratching the side of his cheek. He sat in the passenger seat. “Makes me sweat. Turn on the air or something.”

  “It is on,” Russ said from the driver’s seat. The reporter dabbed his forehead with a blue handkerchief. Eyes up, he craned his neck toward the front window. “Boy, that moon is big. I wrote my articles based off events that occurred on nights like this. You know, it’s really true. A full moon really brings out the crazies.”

  “Man, that’s just superstition stuff,” Cort said. Everyone in the van stared at him. “What?”

  “You haven’t picked up anything superstitious since you started hanging with us nuts?” Russ said.

  “Well, now that I think about it, I suppose there could be some truth to it. But I’ll believe more when I see more.”

  “I’ve got a pretty strong feeling that you are going to see something that you’ll never forget.” Sid leaned closer to Guppy, who held the laptop on his lap. Sam sat on the bench seat on the other side of her. Mal was in the row behind them. “Keep checking those exterior cameras.”

  Guppy toggled security views one by one. His seventeen-inch laptop screen managed several images at once. The complex was dead still, aside from the peacoats that walked by the view. All of them moved with the purpose of well-trained soldiers. She winced. A sharp stabbing pain throbbed in her side, causing her to suck through her teeth.

  “Are you okay?” Sam said.

  “Fine. I’m still mending.”

  Sam nodded. Lips puckered as she took slow breaths, her elegant fingers rubbed the gun in her hand. “I have a feeling I’m going to have to shoot something tonight. I’m not the best at shooting things that move right at me.”

  “I’ll protect you, honey,” Guppy said. “Ten minutes.”

  “Man, this ten minutes is going to take forever.” Cort beat his head against the head rest. “So what’s the plan again? We’re just going to roll through the main gate and start firing?”

  Rocking back and forth, Sam said, “That’s the plan unless Smoke comes up with a better idea. Oh, I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “That’s not the best tactical plan,” Cort said.

  “We’re trying to get the jump on them. It’s the element of surprise,” Sid said, pointing at a view of the complex on the computer. “Listen to me, if we don’t hear from John, we’re going to bust through that gate and pull up to this entrance door. Guppy can let us in. Just don’t take your vitamin until you absolutely need it.”

  “If we drive in there in this old van, they’ll shred us,” Cort said.

  “No, it’s bulletproof.” Guppy grinned. “I bought it at a government auction. In this sucker, we’re going to roll in just like the A-Team. Eight minutes.”

  Sid’s stomach turned upside down. Her palms started to sweat. She wanted to hear from Smoke. Something’s wrong, I can feel it. There were too many unknown factors with their mission. She didn’t know how many of the enemy were out there. It was one thing to face off with Kane and Allison at some point, but who else? Deaders, giant men, harpies. Lord knows how many shifters are really out there.

  Sitting in the back, staring out the window, Mal quietly said, “Khonshu.”

  “What’s he babbling about?” Cort said. “Sounded like a sneeze or something.”

  “What are you talking about, Doc?” Russ asked.

  Sid heard Mal’s fingers getting busy on the keyboard. “Khonshu is the Egyptian god of the moon. I glossed over that as an option for the shifters’ powers before. After all, the ancient Egyptians were very advanced in their technologies. What we have been dealing with are supernatural things, but we’ve also witnessed some modern biochemical effects. I’m starting to wonder if all of this isn’t tied back to some ancient technology.”

  “Or alien technology?” Russ added.

  “Please stop talking,” Sam said. “I used to love this stuff, but now, it’s too close to home. It’s really making me sick. Oh man, I need something for my upset stomach. Does Asia have any Pepto in her backpack there?”

  “I’ll check,” Mal said.

  “Five minutes.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Smoke rolled. A hard foot caught him in the ribs, sending him scraping over the roof. He rolled with the momentum. He came to a stop just as another blow was about to belt him. He caught the leg of his assailant. It wasn’t a leg. It was a talon. The claws would rip steel. A husky figure lorded over him. It was a neckless man with the feathered face and eyeballs of an owl.

  “Release me,” the owl-like man said. He jerked his leg and swiped at Smoke with sharp talons on the hands at the ends of his wings. His voice was a windy whisper. “Release me and die.” The shifter’s clawed fingers ripped the meat of Smoke’s shoulder.

  Smoke hauled the owl shifter up. In a judo move, he drove the man’s face into the black-coated roof.

  The burly shifter lurched up, wings flapping at his sides.

  On instinct, Smoke stuck his fingers in the owl man’s mouth, choking out the screeching sound that was about to come. He unsheathed a knife. Striking hard, he rammed the blade into the owl man’s spine. The body went still.

  The owl man let out a life-draining sigh.

  Putting his blade in the sheath that was strapped on his leg, Smoke rolled the shifter over. The owl man’s spacy eyes gazed at the stars. He was lifeless as a stuffed owl perched in an old study. He nudged the shifter with his foot. I suppose he’s dead. He crept over to the edge of the roof. The scuffle he’d been in had been silent. The peacoat guards walked the grounds. Others were still huddled at their stations.

  Good. Smoke checked his Bluetooth link, but the unit on his wrist was busted. Great Dane. At least he could hear them when they spoke. He considered going back to let them know. He had time. It was a long way off before Kane thought they’d be coming. Besides, it had been a recon mission.

  However, the bodies on the roof now made this a different story. Someone on the inside would be checking on them. When that happened, the complex would become a hive of activity.

  This entire mission stinks.

  He was seconds away from having Guppy let him in. He was going to go it alone. Nip it in the bud. Now, he was hanging out on a rooftop, waiting for the real fire to start. He made a choice. Counting the time, he waited for the last five minutes.

  Smoke raced over the rooftop and took to the air. In seconds, he was a hundred feet up. He circled high above the lights in the streets where the bats dined on the fluttering
wings of moths.

  “One minute,” Guppy said.

  Smoke heard tension in the man’s voice. He then heard Sidney say, “Ready or not, John, here we come.” He counted down. Fifty seconds. Forty seconds. Thirty seconds. Twenty…Ten.

  Smoke dove through the sky straight at one of the windows of Kane’s office.

  Kane and Allison faced each other on the other side of the glass, drinking and talking. Smoke zeroed in. Both of their faces turned his direction at the same time. Their wide-eyed stares were priceless. Smoke hit the window like he’d been shot out of a cannon.

  Thud!

  He bounced off of the unbreakable glass and crashed into the garden below. Body aching, his hypersensitive ears picked up the vibration waves of their raucous laughter. Shaking his head, he climbed back to his feet. A rushing engine revved. Metal collided with metal. Voices hollered and gunfire erupted.

  This is a disaster.

  CHAPTER 9

  “One minute,” Guppy said. Everyone patted down their gear. Sam’s hands rubbed on her thighs. “No word from Smoke.”

  Sid nodded. “Drop it into gear, Russ.” She charged the slide on her weapon. “It’s time to go.”

  Russ turned on the van lights. He dropped the gearshift into drive. Slowly he pulled into the street. The traffic they passed was light on the two-block trip down to the complex. He turned the van down the dead-end street that led to Drake Energy’s main gate.

  Sid noted the signs hanging on the chain-link fences. There were coils of barbwire on the top. Tall rows of pine trees covered in frost on the top branches swayed. She took a breath. Sam’s hand clutched hers.

  “I feel like I’m in a hearse,” Sam said. “My hearse.”

  “You don’t have to do this, hon,” Guppy remarked.

  “No, my brother is in there. I have to help, somehow.”

  “Final stop coming up,” Russ said as his heavy arms turned the wheel to the right. The chain gate that opened up on a base of small metal wheels was closed. There were dark-green slats in the links that barred the view inside. Rolling the window down, he hit the horn a couple of times. “Hey! I’ve got a delivery.” He laid on the horn again.

 

‹ Prev