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

by Craig Halloran

  “What’s the matter, Smoke? Are you getting tired so soon?” Mason clapped his hands. “I’m full of all kinds of energy, brother.”

  “Don’t call me brother.”

  “Okay, sister then.”

  Smoke took in a lungful of air and let out an ear-splitting shriek.

  Mason covered his big ears. The neckless monster shook his head like bees swarmed his head.

  Still letting out the piercing sound, Smoke drew his sword.

  Mason started ramming into the walls, yelling, “Stop it! Make it stop! Please!”

  Smoke stopped screaming.

  Mason froze.

  With careful aim, Smoke slid the blade between the brute’s vertebrae.

  The minotaur fell like a tree, crashing through linoleum tiles to the subflooring.

  Smoke sighed. If he had sweat to wipe, he would have brushed it. “Bats don’t sweat.”

  There was a click overhead.

  “John Smoke, that was delightful. Our viewership on Deathflix is pleased,” Kane said. “You have proved to be one of our greatest adversaries yet. But remember, we are still here, and have always been here, so you can’t win. The only way to win is to join.”

  Smoke stared into the camera mounted where the wall met the ceiling. His reflection was in the lenses. His face was that of an animal becoming unhinged. The more he fought, the wilder he became. “Kane, I’m going to kill you today.”

  “Kill me? Hardly. I’ve faced foes far more challenging than you. For example, I vanquished Mason the Minotaur with my own bare hands. I didn’t need some shiny little sword. Believe me, it took a lot for me to earn his loyalty. So, how do you expect to beat me when you can’t even beat him?”

  Behind him, Smoke heard Mason rising back to his feet. The bull man said, “Round two.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Frank wore a grey suit that loosely fit over his body. Leaning over Rich, he nudged the deader aside, and then his fingers went to work on the keyboard. A small smile creased his face as the images on the screens shifted. He had brought back the live feed. Rich and Sherry began toggling through different images on the screens. The compound was big, but after a few minutes, life resumed in the hallways. In one of them was Cort fighting for his life against a horde of deaders in the generator room.

  Sid’s eyes scanned the pictures on the screens. She needed a glimpse of Smoke. Instead, another image popped up. There were flames in the parking lot. The van they rolled in on was on fire. She didn’t see any signs of Guppy or Sam. She wriggled in her bonds. Groaned behind the tape. It was hard to breathe. It was the worst asthma attack she’d had in a long time.

  Frank turned. With a concerned look, he said, “You don’t look so well. Perhaps all of this excitement is making your condition worse. Rich, Sherry, take down those images for now.”

  The screens shifted from the camera views to a satellite view above the facility. Sid could still see the top of the building and the parking lot. The van was burning, but it was too hard to see anything else that was going on.

  Frank gave the monitors a quick glance before facing her anew. “Isn’t it amazing? On this level, everything is so tangible and immediate. Face to face, the world is in chronic turmoil, but from high above it looks so peaceful. The images are so miniscule. People are ants or something much smaller. They don’t seem so important, do they?” He nodded his chin. “No, they aren’t important. We are not important, only a speck in the cosmic winds.”

  “You believe what you believe,” she said. “I know what I’m fighting for is important.”

  “What you are attempting won’t change anything if you are successful. It’s all in vain.” Frank half sat on the edge of a desk. “That’s why you should embrace the life we live, Sidney. We enjoy the game of life.”

  “You pervert it.”

  “According to who? Who’s to say what man is or is not? Who’s really in charge?”

  “Jesus.”

  Frank’s chin dipped toward the floor, and he sighed. The rhythmic keystrokes of Rich and Sherry typing skipped a beat then resumed. “An awful lot of people in this world disagree with you. I for one.”

  “That’s too bad.” Keep him talking. “Given the condemning nature of my situation, Frank, why don’t you enlighten me as to who is really in charge? I’ve spent time with Kane. I know he’s not the one in charge. He’s a big part of the Drake, but he’s not the Drake.”

  “No, Kane is not the head of the organization. The Drake is global and has many facets and forms. What we do is just a portion of the Drake’s dealings, though we are the most unique and formidable facet. Most of the Drake, if you dig deep enough, is men and women just like you, content in their mortality. Bankers, brokers, doctors, scientists, lawyers, and so on. We do the dirty work for them. Our mission? Poisoning the leadership of this country from the inside out. We’ve been quite successful, aside from a few setbacks. Like the clones. I have to admit, that was an impressive act of valor that made Kane’s head spin around.”

  Sid cut in. “There was a computer there. A pyramid. That entire operation was otherworldly.”

  “Oh yes, but not otherworldly. You see, the Drake are great scholars of antiquities. They employ many archeologists and fund notable museums and preservation societies. So much of the ancient world is buried, a world not so different from the one we live in today. Men in ancient times were not so primitive as the schoolbooks taught people to believe. But many crafts were lost in the sludge of time.

  “The Egyptians and Babylonians were highly advanced. Think about it: the pyramids, giant stones cut with laser-guided precision. There are slabs of granite hollowed out in perfected angles that are too big for men to move without great machines. The Drake sought answers to such things, and they found them. The important thing is that they”—Frank made air quotes— “control the information.

  “Governments, like this one, are too busy making problems for themselves, rather than trying to solve them. The Drake is a contractor that takes the burden out of government hands. Then, they control these artifacts that common men can’t understand. One of them was discovered in a crypt centuries ago. There was a range of large hills, beautiful sights, in Venezuela. Three of them coming together and covered in lush vegetation. Lo and behold, after a thousand years of neglect it was discovered that pyramids were buried underneath. They were lined up exactly as the great ones in Giza. But”—he held up a finger—“smaller. However, they were undisturbed. They hadn’t been ransacked by centuries of looters. The Drake was at the right place at the right time on that occasion. Perhaps that’s what Khonshu the Moon God awaited. Inside were technologies more advanced than what men could imagine for his time. They brought us to where we are today. It took centuries to decipher it. These computers, smart phones, it all comes from that. Hitler’s secret bunker had a trove of this advanced technology too, but the U.S. government, because of the weaponry, secured that.”

  “So that’s how you make deaders and shifters? They’re mummies?”

  “No, that’s all baloney. But, yes, the process of reanimation came from those ancient people. The ability to change into shifters as well. It’s a mix of biochemistry, DNA alteration, and powers that we still don’t fully grasp yet. We just trust the teachings of Khonshu. Have you ever seen those pictures in history books of Egyptians with heads like dogs and birds?”

  “A man’s face on the body of a lion, like the sphinx.”

  “All reality a long time ago.” Frank rubbed his saggy cheek. “Think about it, people are living longer as we slowly integrate these ancient teachings into the modern world. But at the same time, we can’t let there be too many people. So, we’ve created war, disease, famine. At some point, the world will be perfect and run by the likes of us. You could still be a part of that.”

  “Part of a syndicate that decides who lives and who dies?” She wheezed. “I think I’ll pass. So, Kane is the most powerful shifter? He has a direct connection with Khonshu?”

&nb
sp; “Kane is the father of the shifters. As for Khonshu, no one has seen him since his crypt was opened. I’d say you being with Kane is as close as you’ll ever be. Rich, Sherry, go ahead and pull up the screens. Let’s see if any of Sid’s allies are still breathing.”

  New images popped up. Sid gasped.

  CHAPTER 25

  Mack Black blowtorched the van. Sam and Guppy ran for cover. Bullets blasted into the pavement at their feet. Putting their hands in the air, they came to a stop. “Is this it, honey? The end of the road for Guppy and Sam?”

  “If it is, it’s the best road I’ve ever ridden on,” he said with labored breath. “I love you, Sam.”

  “I love you too.”

  Mack Black called out to them. “Turn around. I always enjoy seeing the faces of the people I’m about to put it to.” His beady eyes blossomed. “Oh my, I’ve never roasted such a dish.” Eyes on Sam, he sprayed some flames in the air. “And I thought this flamethrower was hot. It’s got nothing on you, babe. I’m having second thoughts about this kill. Maybe Kane will let me save you.”

  “In your dreams, creep,” she said.

  “Oh, I can certainly promise you that, but there’s nothing quite like the real thing.”

  Guppy took a step forward. Bullets chewed up the ground before his feet. The man in the welder mask said in muffled words, “One more step and you’ll die from bleeding feet.”

  “Get on your knees, the both of you,” Mack said. “Hands on your heads.”

  Sam and Guppy complied.

  “My, my, my, I certainly do have a situation here. A tough decision. I hate to go against Kane’s orders — or Frank’s, for that matter. But I can’t make much sense of killing someone so beautiful.” He pointed the flaming gun barrel at Guppy. “As for you, anvil-face, killing you isn’t much of a problem. I’ve put down dogs uglier than you before.”

  The body of the man in the welder mask heaved with chuckles.

  “But I can’t stand to see such a pretty lady cry. Tell me, gorgeous, you won’t cry when I kill him, will you? Even the pretty ones make ugly when they cry.”

  “I’m not promising anything. After all, he is my husband.”

  “You and him? You’ve got to be kidding me. Heh-heh-heh. He must have a big wallet, or something else. That makes little sense to me.”

  “Hey, I’m not so bad, especially compared to the likes of you.”

  “Oh, ho-ho, ole brick face is taking it personal. Listen, I’ll take good care of your lady.” Mack winked. “Real good care of her. But now I have to do what I have to do.”

  “No, wait,” Sam said. “Let me at least say goodbye to my husband.”

  “Of course, of course, go right ahead. I’m a decent man.”

  Walking on her knees, Sam butted up against Guppy. She kissed him full on the mouth.

  “No! None of that now! I’m okay with words, not lips,” Mack said.

  The other man cracked off a shot.

  Sam broke off the kiss. She said to Guppy, “That really is a nice suit you’ll be wearing to your funeral. Make good use of it.”

  Guppy started to say, “Huh?” but his mouth was full of something Sam had given him with her kiss. He bit down on a super vitamin and swallowed it whole. Not a second passed before he felt like a new man, spry as a stag. He nodded at his wife. “Thanks for everything, baby.” He fastened his eyes on Mack. “Listen, mister, at least let me die standing on my feet. It’s all I ask. It’s a family thing.”

  Sam started to sob.

  “Fine, fine, stand. I just want to roast the dinner so that I can get to dessert.”

  Guppy took one knee off the ground and planted his foot.

  “Slowly now, blockhead.”

  “My ribs are already busted up, so I’m not one to move very fast. The arthritis doesn’t help much either.” Guppy groaned, even though there was a spring of new life swelling inside. The stinging pain of his ribs was gone. The spring in his legs was back. “By the way, mister,” Guppy said, “that flamethrower you’re carrying, I noticed it’s got a leak.”

  “Oh, and I’m supposed to look now?”

  “No, I’ll check it out for you.” Guppy sprang at the man. Flames engulfed his body. He passed right through the scorching heat, colliding with the man’s body. He yanked the flamethrower’s handle from Mack’s strong grip. He pointed it at the other man, squeezed the trigger. Flames spewed out, covering the man in the welder mask in flames.

  The man stood in his spot. Burning in his armor, he let out a spray of bullets.

  Guppy held the flamethrower hose on the man.

  The bullets went astray as the man started screaming.

  Mack jumped Guppy. He was strong, but right now, Guppy was far stronger.

  Guppy drove his elbow into the man’s face. The jawbone gave. “Don’t ever talk to my wife like that again.” With a few more punches, Mack Black was out cold. He stripped the flamethrower harness from the man’s back.

  Sam grabbed him and kissed him. “That was awesome! Where are you going?”

  “I’m going in. I’ve got to help Cort.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Guppy gave Sam a quick kiss and ran. He noticed Mal and Russ emerging from their hiding place. Everyone was armed. With pure adrenaline racing through his veins, he pushed through the hole in the doorway and barreled down the hall, taking the first right toward the generator room. He slammed his shoulder into the double doors. The heavy metal doors bowed against his strength, but held. He jogged backward, pulled his semiautomatic pistol from the polymer holster, and fired.

  The doors exploded inward. Guppy holstered the weapon and made his march inside. It had been a long time since the veteran had seen any action in the field. The smell of gunpowder livened his senses. All of his instincts from multiple tours in Iraq and Afghanistan came back. This was another mission. A rescue mission. He’d done it dozens of times before. But never with a flamethrower.

  As soon as he cleared the hazy smoke inside the yawning size of the generator room, deaders rushed him. He pulled the trigger. A stream of flame ignited the deaders’ old uniforms like kindling. Skin bubbled and crackled. They marched with their bodies burning and bayonets lowered to impale him. Guppy side-jumped out of their path, watching the old bodies begin to crumble from the corner of his eyes. There were deaders in red coats ambling all over the room. He’d only caught some of their attention. There wasn’t any sign of Cort.

  Seeing the whites of their eyes, Guppy hosed them all down with flame.

  Something jabbed into his back, knocking him to his knees. He caught the flash of a sword bearing down on his skull. His hand shot up, catching the deader by the wrist. He stuck the flamethrower in its gut. “Burn!”

  Flames erupted out of the deader’s eyes and mouth. It fell over with its head leaving a stream of smoke behind it.

  “Guppy!” cried a deep but feeble voice.

  Cort was up on top of one of the generators. Deaders scrambled at the base, crawling over one another to the top. The big black man was hitting them in the face with bloody knuckles whenever a deader’s face popped up. He was on his belly, with his boots hanging over one end. Deaders had ahold of those boots, fighting against the kicking feet that dangled over the rim.

  Guppy turned the deaders on the backside into fire. The entire room smelled like burning flesh and hair. The smoke was so thick Guppy choked. His eyes watered so badly it was hard to see. “Hang on, Cort, I’m coming.”

  “Hurry up!”

  Guppy rushed around to the other side. The flames sputtered from the tip. “Tank’s about empty!” He slid the flamethrower tank off of his brawny shoulders and yelled at the redcoat deaders, “Hey!”

  The remaining trio of deaders turned on Guppy.

  Guppy tossed the flamethrower tank to one in front. It caught it full in the chest. “I don’t know what your name is, soldier, but Bonfire has a nice ring to it. Cover up, Cort! The thunder’s coming!” With the quick hand of a gunslinger, Guppy drew and fire
d. The tank exploded. Deader bodies splattered from the floor to the ceiling. A deader head bounced off the floor and rolled. Guppy kicked it away. “Cort?”

  There was a pause, followed by, “Please tell me they’re all dead.”

  Guppy scanned the room. “They were all dead before we started, but now they don’t move.” Guppy’s legs turned into noodles. He broke out in a cold sweat and fell on his backside. “Whoa.”

  Cort’s head popped up over the side of the generator. “I know what that means. You’re out of gas. Those pills have a nasty side effect, but at least it saved my ass.”

  “Ditto. Do you need any help off of there?”

  “My arm’s still broken, but I think I can manage.” Cort’s face soured. “Whew! The dead stink. If we ever get out of here, the first round is on me.”

  “I don’t drink.”

  “Then I’ll drink for you.” Cort managed to slide his body over the edge. He swung his big frame over with one arm. He landed heavily on his feet and fell to the floor. He started laughing. “I feel like I just ran a dozen gassers.”

  “Me too.”

  Both men were staring up at the ceiling. Guppy’s ribs felt worse than they had before.

  “Say,” Cort said, tapping Guppy with the back of his hand. “You got any more ammo?”

  “Yup.” Guppy fished a cartridge out of his belt. “Here.”

  “Are these forty-four magnums?”

  “Nope.” Guppy handed over a second gun he had in his belt. “This will have to do you.”

  Cort took the gun. He popped out the empty cartridge and loaded the new clip. He reached down into one of his belt pouches. He fished out the small vial of pills. “Do you think it’s too dangerous to take these too close together without having a meal? I wonder if it’s addictive.”