“What have we here?” The man’s voice was gruff. He approached, tall and lanky and wearing a pea coat. “Looks like a little bird fell out of her nest.” He extended his hand. “Let me help you up, my dear.”
She reached for his hand.
He took it, started to pull her up, and drove his booted toe into her gut.
She doubled over with a groan.
“Men, I got her! I got—ulp!”
Smoke stretched his arms through the bars and grabbed the man’s neck and collar. He jerked the man’s face into the metal. Bang! Bang! Bang!
The man sagged to the floor with his face bleeding.
“Find the key,” Smoke urged. “Hurry!”
Sidney fumbled through the man’s pockets and belt and found nothing. A scuffle of feet and agitated voices echoed down the corridor. “He doesn’t have it.”
Smoke reached into the front of her jeans and pulled her gun out.
“Hey!” she said.
He marched over to the cage door and shot the lock off. It sounded different underground.
Pop!
And then he stepped outside and tossed her back the gun. “Thanks,” he said, coughing.
They stood in a cavernous room, almost the size of the ballroom above. Oaken barrels lined the walls. Shelves were stacked up to the ceiling, loaded with unknown materials. The walls were cut rock, and three stone corridors led out. Smoke took her by the wrist and pulled her toward the one farthest from the onrush of guards.
Blat—at! Blat—at! Blat—at!
Sidney’s legs churned. Bullets whizzed by her head. Rock chips scattered from the wall. She returned fire.
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
Smoke pushed through the exit door and bounded up the stairs. She kept pace, stumbled, bashed her knee on the metal step, and carried on, grimacing. They rushed through the door at the top and found themselves in a grand kitchen. They dashed to the other side of the room and found themselves inside one of the main halls.
Voices cried out from all over. Footsteps echoed off the hardwood floors.
“Stay close,” Smoke said.
“No, you stay close,” she replied. “I’m rescuing you. It’s not the other way around.”
Smoke coughed. “If you say so.”
They took a curved stairway going up, away from the sound of voices. At the top was a long hallway with many bedroom doors. She jiggled the handles on one side. Smoke tried the other. The opposite end of the hall was a dead end.
“Any luck?” she said, glancing back over her shoulder. Smoke was gone. A door gaped open on the other side. “Smoke?” A heavy scuffle caught her ear. Inside, a deader had Smoke by the waist and picked up off the floor.
“Close the door,” Smoke spit out. He drove an elbow into the deader’s eye socket. The lifeless creature shrugged it off and slammed him to the floor.
Sidney closed the door and locked it, closed in, and took aim.
Smoke shook his head. “Don’t shoot it!”
“Why?”
“Too loud.” The deader got his tireless arms around Smoke’s neck. “Knife,” Smoke choked out, stretching his clutching hand and eyeing her ankle. His face reddened. “Knife, now.”
She slid the blade from her boot.
“Don’t just stand there, stab it!”
“Stabbing’s not really my thing.”
“Give it!” Smoke snatched the blade from her hand and drove it backward into the deader’s eye. The creature’s body stiffened, but it held on. Smoke twisted inside its grip, ripped himself free, plunged the blade into its heart, and gave it a twist.
Churk!
The deader went limp.
Gasping, Smoke wiped the blade on the bedspread. “Stabbing isn’t really your thing?”
She shrugged. “It seemed weird.”
He staggered toward the window. “Some rescue.” Peering outside, he said, “I think you can make a break for it from here.” He opened the window. “The ivy’s pretty heavy on these walls.”
“And just what do you think you’ll be doing?”
“Bringing in Night Bird.”
“You need to forget about her.”
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “Not after what she did to me. Did to those others. She’s going down.”
She grabbed his chin, looked straight into his eyes, and said, “There’s too many, Smoke. Let’s cut our losses and go. You’re sick.”
“I’ll be fine.” He tried to nudge her toward the window.
“You weren’t fine five minutes ago.”
“Of course I was,” he said, coughing. “It was all going according to my plan until you showed up.”
“Me?” She backed up into the room. “You’d be dead if not for me.”
He shook his head. “No I wouldn’t.”
The closet door popped, and with a creak it slowly opened. It was dim inside. Probably some partygoers. Sidney peered inside, weapon ready. “Come out with your hands up.”
A pale and ghastly figure rushed out of the closet.
Sidney’s finger froze on the trigger.
A knife flashed and stabbed her in the gut.
CHAPTER 36
The gut-busting blow picked Sidney up off her feet. Agony raced through her body. Instinct took over. She fired the Glock.
Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!
The spray of bullets blasted the deader back into the closet.
Smoke rushed over. “Sid! Sid! Are you all right?”
Clutching her stomach, she shook her head quickly, saying, “I don’t know.” It felt as if the monster had punched a hole through her. All of her innards ached.
Smoke pulled the belly of her sweater up. “Whoa.”
“Is it that bad?”
“No. Your second skin held.”
“It’s called a Zweite Haut suit.”
“Sweet heart?”
“Something like that. It’s German. Where’s yours?” She groaned as Smoke helped her to her feet. Her knees buckled, but Smoke caught her. Man, it hurts.
“Not sure. Why, am I in trouble?”
“Probably. It’s worth more than the both of us put together.”
“Well, at least it kept you together.”
A heavy pounding came at the door.
Wham! Wham! Wham!
“Open up! Open up!”
“Just a minute,” Smoke said in a feminine voice. “I’m not decent.” He dragged Sidney to the window.
Gunshots cracked out from the other side of the door. Wood chips blasted through the holes.
“Hang on,” Smoke said, hefting her onto his shoulder.
“Let me down, I can climb.”
“You can barely move.”
He eased out of the window, gripped the vines, and scaled the wall to the ground like an ape. He sprinted out into the back courtyard. Angry voices called out after them. Gunfire followed.
Feeling as if her guts were falling out, Sidney aimed her weapon and cracked off some cover fire.
Blam! Blam!
One man fell out of the window. “Ahhh!”
Nice shot, Sid! Wish my combat arms instructors could have seen that. They’d never believe it.
“Hang on!” Smoke said, running at full speed. “I’ll get you to safety.”
Whoooosh!
A great shadow dropped from the sky and knocked them sprawling to the ground. Sidney fought her way up to her hands and knees.
“You ruined my party!” Night Bird squawked. The bird woman’s face was contorted with demonic fury. Her wings were spread, and her razor-sharp talons clawed up the dirt as she bird-walked forward. “I will make you pay!”
Sidney raised the barrel of her gun, aimed center mass, and said, “Glock you.” She squeezed the trigger.
Click.
Night Bird snarled. “I’m going to rip you lab rats apart!” She lowered her head, pinned back her wings, let out a shriek, and charged with unnatural speed.
The shriek paralyzed Sidney. She hunkered do
wn, fighting to regain her faculties.
Night Bird landed on top of her. The talons dug into her body, and Sidney cried out. She felt her body lift from the ground and rise toward the sky. Something slammed into Night Bird and dragged the monster to the grass by the neck. The talons released her.
“You dare!” Night Bird shrieked at Smoke. “I’ve had enough of you, mortal!” Her wings lashed out, cutting Smoke along the eyes. Bigger and stronger than the man, she pinned his legs down with her talons. Her talon-like fingernails tore into his skin. With superior strength and speed, she pummeled him.
Smoke struck back, stabbing with the knife.
Night Bird bit his wrist and wrenched it free. “Fool! For hundreds of years none of your kind have ever stopped me.” She shrieked in his face.
Smoke covered his ears. He sagged to the ground, nose bleeding. His body was cut to ribbons, and he slumped over on the blood-slicked grass.
Night Bird spread her wings in triumph and squalled.
A fire lit inside Sidney. She snaked the other knife out of her boot and charged the harpy.
“Eh?” Night Bird turned her head a split second too late.
Sidney jumped and jabbed the knife deep between Night Bird’s wings.
The monster let out a squawk so loud it bent the leaves on the trees. Somewhere, glass shattered. “Nooooooooooo!” Night Bird slung Sid from her back, spread her great wings, and took to the air, under the moonlight. The higher she went, the more she wavered. Finally, she spiraled in a downward cone and crashed into a storehouse nearby.
Oh, please be dead!
Sid crawled over to Smoke.
He lay prone on the ground, struggling to rise and wiggling his fingers in his ears. “Did you stab her?”
“Yes,” she said, holding up the knife.
He poked the other magazine in her pocket. “Why didn’t you just reload and shoot her?”
I forgot. She didn’t see her gun anywhere on the ground either. “I just wanted to stab her, I guess.” She shivered. “I think I’ve had enough of this cold. Let’s make sure she’s dead and get inside.”
“I don’t think that’s our call,” Smoke said. Looking over her shoulder, he raised his hands.
They were surrounded by at least a dozen gun-toting goons.
Sid’s teeth chattered, and she thought, Don’t say it.
But they did.
“Freeze!”
CHAPTER 37
“Drop the knife, lady!” one of the guards said.
Sidney let it slide from her fingers. “I think you can take the masks off now, bird boys. I think your boss is dead.”
“She’s not our boss,” one man said, hauling Sidney up to her feet.
“Is that so? Then who is?”
“Button your lip,” the man said, picking up her knife, “or it might get cut off.” Behind her a man stuck a rifle muzzle in her back, shuffling her forward. “Let’s go.”
She glanced at Smoke. Blood was caked all over him. He tried to fight off the cough in his chest.
“This is a horrible rescue,” he said to her. “You know that, don’t you?”
“If you’d cooperate, it’d be just fine.”
A rifle butt gently clocked both of them in the back of the head. “Shut it,” a man said.
Whumpa! Whumpa! Whumpa! Whumpa! Whumpa! Whumpa! Whumpa!
A helicopter soared in overhead, shining its floodlight on them like a small moon in the sky.
“This is the FBI! Drop your weapons and surrender!” an amplified voice called out from it.
The guards, some in bird masks and others in pea coats, fled toward the house.
“FBI! Last warning!”
A second chopper soared over and landed closer to the house. A tactical team in gas masks spilled out of the helicopter’s bay, cracked off some blasts of gunfire, and unleashed smoke grenades. Within minutes, the FBI took control of the situation. Night Bird’s bodyguards were face down in the grass. FBI agents in vans and SUVs spilled into the driveway a few minutes later.
Sidney grabbed her phone. “I’ll be.” Her text had gone through.
“What?” Smoke said.
She showed him the phone with a reply from Section Chief Howard.
Almost there. Hang tight.
She shifted around and said to Smoke, “I told you I was rescuing you.”
“No, I’m pretty sure they’re rescuing you.”
***
“So that’s her, huh?” Ted said, watching Night Bird being loaded into an ambulance on a gurney. She was in human form and had an oxygen mask strapped to her nose.
“No, that’s an it,” Sidney said, pulling the blanket tighter over her shoulders. “And you better hope it doesn’t survive.”
“I look forward to you telling me all about … it,” he said, patting her shoulder. “But most of all, I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Well, I have plenty to tell you, but I’m positive you’re going to hate my report.”
“At least it’ll be entertaining.”
The wind stirred the ground, and a bird mask made of raven feathers rolled up on Ted’s shoe. He picked it up. “Strange masquerade party.”
“They’re strange people.” Sidney looked over at the back of the other ambulance, where Smoke sat on a gurney. A paramedic was stitching him up. “Does he really have to go back … tonight? He’s sick, you know.”
“Afraid so. By the looks of things, he’s lucky to be alive, like you.” He eyed Smoke and then looked at her. “You like that guy, don’t you?”
“He’s a good soldier. I don’t think he deserves what’s being done to him.”
“Probably not. I’ll see what I can do about his living conditions. I figure he deserves that much.” Ted surveyed the scene. “Sheesh, this is a mess. Half of these people aren’t even citizens. We can’t figure out where some of them are from. Some days I just don’t recognize my country anymore. I swear I’m going to wake up one day and everything I knew will be gone.”
“You could be right,” she said.
“Ted! Ted!” Waving his hand over his head, Cyrus ran toward them. “You need to get inside and look at this place.” He glanced at Sid. “Hey.” Then he was back to eagerly addressing Ted. “Anyway—weapons, drugs, you-name-it’s in there. All of these agents are going to be up for accomplishments after this bust!”
Just after he said it, agents came rushing out of the manor. Flames roared with fiery life in the windows. In moments, the entire manor was ablaze.
Cyrus gawped. “Oh no, oh no, oh no! Somebody call in the fire trucks!”
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The ground shook, and the manor collapsed into a pile of rubble.
“I can’t believe it,” Cyrus said, squeezing his head. “All of the evidence. It’s gone.”
Sidney walked away shaking her head and headed toward where Smoke now stood. “Are you going to make it?”
“Yea. You?”
“I think so.” She extended her hand. “I guess you have to go back now.”
He grabbed her hand and squeezed it in his. “Seems so.”
Two agents put a coat over his shoulders and led him toward a Bureau car.
Her heart sank. She said over to him, “Until next time then?”
“You can count on me.”
Where There’s Smoke: Book 3
CHAPTER 1
Alone inside Section Chief Howard’s office, Sidney sat chewing on a pen cap. She stopped and scribbled a name on her notepad.
Mal Carlson.
He had sent her several texts over the past few weeks. They didn’t say much. Greetings. Almost gibberish.
How are you?
Checking in.
Anything strange?
Be alert.
Sometimes she replied, sometimes she didn’t.
The office door popped open, and Ted’s secretary, Jane, stepped inside. Refined in her appealing and professional dress, she said, “He just pulled in. Can I get you anything, Agent
Shaw?”
“You could tell me where John Smoke is.”
Jane offered a smile. “I wouldn’t mind knowing where he is myself. Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
“No, thank you,” she said, turning away. She heard the door close behind her. A whiff of Jane’s perfume lingered in the air. I wish I felt as together as she looks. She sketched an hourglass on her notepad. And waited. Jane knew plenty more than she’d ever let on. That’s what good secretaries do, and they are often privy to what is said and never documented. Jane always eased out of Sid’s inquiries. I hate that about her. But she respected it too.
Buzz. A new message appeared on her phone from her mother. It read:
Don’t forget to check on her.
Allison and Megan had headed back to DC. Her sister had convinced their parents that her head was better and she was ready to go back home. Supposedly she had a job lined up. Allison was well educated and capable. She had a degree in nursing, but she never really applied herself to it. Instead, she enjoyed working in campaign offices with high-profile people, and it was election season.
Sidney texted back:
I will. Love U.
She turned the phone off and tucked it away. As if I don’t have enough on my plate already. Hah!
Life had changed, but it hadn’t. She went through the routine. Eat. Work. Sleep. Good sleep was hard to come by. Now she slept with restlessness, knowing that the monsters under her bed or in her closet were real. But no one wanted to talk about them. There wasn’t anyone she could confide in. Instead, she came in once a month to meet with Ted. Otherwise, she was a shadow. Sometimes as she lay in bed she wondered if any of what happened had been real.
Werewolves. Deaders. Harpies. Gargoyles. Cage fights. Plenty of other agents had also witnessed what she had seen, but no one talked about it. In today’s world of mass communication, that didn’t seem possible. She’d been completely cut off from the investigations and interrogations at the Drummerville Bird Sanctuary. She scratched on her pad. Maybe they want me to think I’m crazy.
The door opened, and Ted entered. “Sorry, Sid.” He hung his coat and cap on the rack. “Got a late start with the grandkids in. Honestly, I’d forgotten about this meeting until Jane reminded me. I must be slipping.” He walked over and patted her on the shoulder. “I hope you’ll forgive me.” He glanced at her pad. “Is that a portrait of Mr. Smoke?”
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files Collector's Set: Books 1-10: Urban Fantasy Shifter Series Page 28