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

by Craig Halloran

  It took all of Sidney’s willpower to keep from strangling Allison. Her eyes were daggers. I hate you.

  “So—” Smoke started.

  “I said no.” Sidney slunk over to the love seat adjacent to the fireplace and took a seat. It was a day she’d do anything to forget. She liked Cyrus, but the relationship had topped off after several months of dating. She’d been ready to move on but had dragged it on too long, and he had made his move.

  “She really did say no,” Allison said, pressing into Smoke’s shoulder and eyeing her sister. “Right then and right in front of everybody. You should have seen his face: like a wounded dog that quickly became dark and angry. And my sister says I’m a tease.”

  “No,” Sidney interjected. “I say you’re a hussy.”

  “Sidney!” Sally exclaimed, re-entering the room with a tray of cookies. “We will not have that kind of talk in this house, especially over the holidays. Now leave your little sister alone.” She set the tray down on the coffee table and faced Smoke. “What would you like to drink?”

  “Milk is always best with cookies, if it’s not a problem.”

  “Milk goes great with a lot of things,” Allison said.

  “Allison,” Sally said, “go and put something decent on.”

  “This is decent, don’t you think—John, is it?”

  Smoke turned his head toward Sally. “I always respected my mother’s wisdom, and I think your mother’s is very much the same.”

  Sally’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, and with an approving nod, she shuffled back to the kitchen.

  Allison stood up with a huff, ran her fingers along the waistband of her yoga pants, and slunk out of the room, saying, “I’m sure I can find something much more traditional and boring in Sidney’s room.”

  The tightness in Sidney’s chest started to ease, and the room’s atmosphere lightened. She found Smoke’s eyes searching hers with a curious look in them. What must he think of me? And Cyrus? Damn!

  “Aunt Sidney,” Megan said, crawling up on the love seat and laying her head on Sid’s shoulder. “What’s a hussy?”

  Damn.

  ***

  About an hour later, Sidney sat on the hearth with Megan sleeping on a pillow in her lap. She flipped the business card her mother had let her see through her fingers. Edwin Lee with Drake Real Estate Appraisers. A voicemail picked up when she called the number.

  “I can’t say, Sid,” Keith said, yawning. “He seemed all right. Not a twitch about him.”

  “So a man shows up out of the blue and you just let him inside?”

  “Your mother did that.”

  “He was nice, and he looked cold,” Sally said, knitting a bundle of bright green yarn. She glanced at Smoke. “Would you like some more cookies, John?”

  “No thank you.” He patted his belly. “Those were fine though. I love chocolate chips and pecans. And what were those white chocolate things with the peanut butter in them?”

  “Oh, those are Ritz crackers, Jiffy dipped in melted chocolate ….”

  Sidney let her mom ramble on. Holidays were her thing: cooking, talking, and making merry. She hadn’t always been so jovial. Her parents had been stalwart, once upon a time. They had two girls and two older boys, and her mother had taken a switch to every one of them on more than one occasion. But now her mother wouldn’t swat a fly.

  “Sid, I’m sorry. I don’t hear so well. I can’t see, either,” Keith started, clearing his throat. He picked something up off of his end table by the recliner. “And I have to use this magnifying glass to read my comic books. I never believed my father when he told me, ‘Getting old’s not for sissies.’ Well hell, he was right.”

  She brushed Megan’s hair aside. Megan was sweet, smart, and adorable. Sid wished she had more time with her. The little girl didn’t deserve the hard life Allison put her through. No one did. She sighed. “Dad, where did he sit?”

  “Right there, where John is. Why?”

  “Did he go anywhere else?” she asked. “Use the phone or anything?”

  “No. Sally,” he said, interrupting her mother’s story. “Sally!”

  Her mother jerked up. “What did I tell you about using that tone with me?”

  “If you’d answer me the first time I wouldn’t have to.”

  “What do you want? I’m talking.”

  “I know that. Everybody knows that. You’re always talking.” He rolled his eyes at Sidney. “Always. And it ain’t to me. It’s to the wall, the cat, the dog, the plants.”

  “What is your question?” Sally demanded.

  “Did that man go anywhere else in the house besides the couch?”

  “No,” she said, looking up and tilting her head. “Um… Oh, yes, he asked to go to the bathroom.”

  “Speaking of which,” Smoke said, “may I make use of your facility?”

  “Certainly, John, second door on the right down the hall.”

  As soon as Smoke got up, the house phone started ringing. It was an olive green handset from the eighties. No caller ID to be found. Sally picked it up and in a welcoming voice said, “Hello, Shaw residence.” She made a sour face. “Smoke?” Her brows buckled in concentration. “Oh, John Smoke. Yes, he’s here.” She made an excited face at Smoke, who’d stopped in the hall. “And may I ask who’s calling?”

  Sidney’s eyes fastened on Smoke. He shrugged.

  “Okay,” Sally said. She covered the phone receiver with her hand. “Uh, John, it’s a Mister Guppy for you. That’s a funny name, but he sounds friendly.”

  Smoke walked over and took the receiver from Sally. “Thank you.” He held the phone to his head. “Smoke.” His eyes scanned the room. “Uh-huh … uh-huh … thanks.” He hung the phone up and said to Sally. “Thank you.”

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Just fine,” he said, “but I don’t think my bladder will hold out much longer.” He headed for the bathroom.

  “I have the same problem,” Keith said.

  “I really like him,” Sally said to Sidney. “I hope he’s your partner for a long, long time.”

  Sidney shook her head, gaping. What was that all about?

  CHAPTER 12

  At 10:42 pm, everyone was in bed asleep except Sidney and Smoke. The coals in the fireplace had gone dim. Her eyes were heavy, but inside some fires still burned. Smoke sat on the couch, still in the grey suit, but the jacket and tie were undone. He looked relaxed. Casual.

  “So you grew up here,” he said, glancing over at her. “It’s a nice place. I like the knotty pine on the walls.”

  “My grandparents built it and left it to my mom. They died kinda young.”

  Smoke stretched back his elbows over the back of the couch. “Well, I guess I should catch some sleep. I guess the loft over the garage is that direction?” He pointed toward the kitchen.

  “Just a second,” she said, getting up from the hearth and taking a seat in her father’s chair across from him. “Care to share what your friend Mister Guppy had to say? That was a nice trick, by the way.”

  “Oh, that. Sure, I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Sure you did.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now out with it.”

  Smoke pulled a small device out from under the coffee table to show her. It was digital wire. A bug. “I’m pretty sleepy. Some fresh air would be nice.”

  Sidney headed for the sliding glass door and pulled it open. She shut it just as Smoke stepped outside. The frigid air felt as if it had teeth on it.

  “Think there are any others?”

  “No,” he said, following the steps off the front porch and walking toward the triple-bay garage. “I looked, but I’d say that was it.”

  “Well, let’s destroy it.”

  “Nah. Just leave it be. There’s nothing for them to hear once we leave, and I doubt they’ll be monitoring once we’re gone. This kind only works a few weeks anyway. They’re messing with you. They’re messing with us.”

  “Who
is?”

  “Whoever doesn’t want us to pursue the Black Slate.”

  Her boots crunched over the gravel path that led around the house. It was a nice moonlit evening, just freezing cold. She remembered running around this house with her brothers and sister and cousins, all playing spotlight late into the night. She accidentally brushed her hand against his as they rounded the corner. He held hers gently for a moment and let it go. He’s still warm.

  She blew her icy breath into her hands and rubbed them together. “I’m guessing someone on the Black Slate doesn’t want us pursuing the Black Slate.”

  “The best criminals own a piece of everybody. Just look at your buddy Congressman Wilhelm. He may be the one behind it all. I can only imagine there’s a bundle of money on the table. And money and blackmail win elections.”

  “I’d hate to think this is all about politics.”

  “It’s always about politics. That’s all DC cares about. People around here lose their minds during an election cycle.”

  “And their jobs.” She plucked a rock off the ground and dropped it back onto the gravel pathway. “So, what did Mister Guppy say about Edwin Lee?”

  Smoke made his way into the yard and leaned back on the split-rail fence. “What makes you think it was about Mister Lee?”

  “Come on, I don’t have time for games, Mister Smoke.”

  “Are we back to that again?”

  “Back to what?”

  “Mister Smoke? After all we’ve been through? At least your parents call me John.”

  “So I should call you John?”

  “No, I like Smoke, but your parents can call me John because I’m a guest in their home.”

  She shivered. “What did Guppy say?”

  “He wanted to wish me a Merry Christ—”

  She punched him in the shoulder. “Out with it, please.”

  “All right, I’m just teasing. You really should loosen up over the holidays some.” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  She glowered back.

  “So, Guppy found Edwin Lee.”

  “And?” she said, shivering.

  “There’s several hundred in the United States, and fifteen in DC. Fourteen don’t match the description.” He cracked his thumbs. “The fifteenth did.” He looked up at the distant tree line. “I bet you have a bundle of deer out there.”

  “And?” she said again, not hiding her agitation.

  “And he died in 1943. Buried in a place called Red Vine Cemetery, southwest of DC.”

  ***

  Sidney stretched her visit as long as she could stand it and departed her parents’ home late Christmas afternoon. Smoke, to her surprise, blended in quite well and was very smooth, brushing off all of Allison’s advances. It pleased her, watching him handle himself so well where most men tended to stumble. Rolling onto the highway headed south, she set the Hellcat on cruise control.

  “Where are we headed, Agent Shaw?” Smoke said, staring out the window.

  He sat dressed in blue jeans and a black shirt under a dark leather jacket. A holster holding a gun was strapped to his side.

  “Red Vine Cemetery. I want to see that grave.”

  “Not a bad call.”

  “Did you have something else in mind?”

  “We have to start somewhere, but I might have picked a place out of the file folder. Out of what’s left of it, anyway.”

  They’d gone through the remains of the file back at her parents’. There was little left to start on, but Sidney remembered plenty of what she’d seen and jotted down her notes. It was one of her things: studying something once and not forgetting. Names, places, and events easily stuck in her mind. “I’m sure there’s another file.”

  “Well, I have a feeling those files aren’t digital. Looks like it was dug out of a metal file cabinet from the old days.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Smoke patted his stomach. “I appreciate the hospitality. I haven’t been a part of something like that in a long time. I like your family.”

  “I bet you liked Allison.”

  “She’s something, all right. But your Mom was the one who kind of got me.”

  “What do you mean? What did she say?”

  “She said she thought I was a goodly child and asked me if I had any baby pictures.”

  Sidney laughed. “Yes, that was strange. Try not to take it the wrong way. She’s pretty old-fashioned with her words. She always says something odd about everyone. It used to be pretty embarrassing growing up.”

  “What did she say about Cyrus?” he said without looking at her. “Did he come over much?”

  Ugh! Why did you have to ruin a perfectly normal conversation? She didn’t reply.

  “Did you ever envision yourself married to him?” he pressed.

  “I don’t want to talk about it. And why do you have such an interest in it?”

  “He’s a jerk. I’ve never understood why so many women go for such big jerks. That’s all.”

  “There’s more to him than meets the eye.”

  He turned his head. “Is there now?”

  “Not like that.”

  “What do you mean, not like that? What were you talking about?”

  “I thought you were—ugh, never mind. Drop it.”

  The next few hours were driven in silence. No radio. No chatter. Just her driving and Smoke, eyes closed and maybe sleeping. She liked him. Every time Allison neared him, a fire had lit inside her. But she couldn’t blame her sister for trying, and he wasn’t the first man they’d fought over. Allison hadn’t flirted with Cyrus, though, and that had ended up being a confirming sign. Quit thinking about it and get back to the business at hand. But she didn’t stop thinking about it. She couldn’t. The way he’d handled himself with her parents was genuine and impressive. And they like him. But it was ludicrous for her to fall for a man whose home was in prison. She pulled off the highway, entered the nearest gas station, and pulled alongside the pumps.

  “Why are we stopping?” Smoke asked, rubbing his eyes.

  “Getting a little gas and coffee.” She popped open the door. “Want some?”

  “Gas, or coffee?” he said with a smile.

  “Or neither.”

  “Large black coffee, and if you don’t mind, some nacho Doritos would be nice.”

  At least they don’t serve milkshakes.

  “Just pump the gas,” she said, scanning the card on the pump and walking away.

  Inside the store, Sidney prepared two large coffees and paid the clerk.

  He was an older black man with a lazy eye, wearing a Santa cap on his head. “I hope you’ve had an extraordinary day,” he said with a smile. “Now you be careful out there, or the holiday spooks will get you.”

  That’s an odd thing to say.

  Back inside the car, she waited for Smoke to stop pumping and get inside. Finally he hopped in. She handed him his coffee, saying, “You used high octane, didn’t you?”

  “Of course,” he said, taking the cup. “Hey, no Doritos.”

  “No,” she said, putting the car in drive and motoring out of the lot. “No Doritos.” What am I, your mom? Geez, I don’t get this guy.

  Another twenty minutes of driving and things remained quiet. Smoke sat huddled over his coffee, sipping and looking away.

  Is he pouting?

  She checked the GPS on her phone. Red Vine Cemetery was ten miles from the nearest highway in Springfield. The road leading up to it was dirt and gravel with a heavy night fog rolling over it. She pulled off to the side in the tall grasses beside a tall iron gate that was chained shut. Black gargoyles loomed on the top posts with wings spread and screeching faces. There was something alive about them. She popped the trunk and got out.

  Smoke slid out of the car, eying the metal fence. “This looks like the ancient ones in Savanna.”

  She picked up a flashlight and checked her weapon, eyeing the moon in the sky. She grabbed another gun, a Glock 22, and clipped it on. She kept the .40 caliber re
ady in her free hand. She closed the trunk and Smoke was nowhere to be found.

  No he didn’t.

  CHAPTER 13

  The fence and gate were eight feet high, and the top rails were spiked. It was odd. Most cemeteries didn’t have fences around them. And there was something else peculiar, too. She ran her fingers over the wrought iron. The metal was in excellent condition, almost new. After pushing her gun and flashlight between the rails and setting them down on the other side, she grabbed the ice-cold rails and squeezed them. Here we go. She shimmied up the rails, got her boot on the topside, and swung herself over.

  Rip!

  One of the barbs at the top ripped through her coat and into her shoulder. Grimacing, she hopped down to the ground and grabbed the gun and flashlight. She touched the throbbing wound. Warm blood wet her fingers.

  Not good. She peered through the murk. Dammit, Smoke, where are you? Treading through the tall lawn, she took note of the graves and markers. Many were tall limestone works with crosses and other ornate types of pylons and pillars. There were stone sarcophaguses too, with a few cracked and damaged. There were hundreds of marble headstones as far as her eyes could see, glinting faintly in the moonlight. Sidney waded through the mist that hung just above her ankles. A sound caught her ear. She stopped.

  Shnnnk … Ffffp … Shnnnk … Ffffp … Shnnnk … Ffffp …

  It was the steady rhythmic sound of a shovel digging into the earth. Sidney crept toward the sound.

  Shnnnk … Ffffp … Shnnnk … Ffffp … Shnnnk … Ffffp …

  A figure in shabby clothes stood waist-deep in a grave. A man with a broad back and hunched shoulders scooped out large shovelfuls of dirt and tossed them aside. There was something extraordinary about the man as he slung the dirt aside. The shovel was huge, almost the size of a snow shovel. The ominous silhouette kept shoveling without any source of light. Spidery legs of warning crawled up her arms.

  Shnnnk … Ffffp … Shnnnk … Ffffp … Shnnnk … Ffffp …

  She turned on the flashlight and readied her Glock and slid in behind him. There was a body in a burlap sack, bound up in thick cords of twine beside the grave.