The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 1 thru 5 (Smoke Special Edition)

by Craig Halloran

  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 ready 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.

  “FBI,” Sidney said, shining the light on the man’s back. He was big-framed. Arms bulged. A nasty scar was carved deep in his bare skull. He should be freezing. “Drop the shovel and let me see your hands.”

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

  Dirt landed on Sidney’s boots. “Drop the shovel and get out of the grave, sir.”

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

  Sidney growled in her throat. Men never listen. She stepped around the side of the grave to get a better look at him. He kept his head down. He might be deaf, but he can certainly see the light. She shined the light in his face.

  The foreboding man stopped and looked up. His marred face had dead eyes. He snarled. The shovel swung.

  Shit! A deader!

  Sidney jumped. The shovel clipped her heel, and she pitched backward hard onto the ground. Her gun fell from her grasp. The man grabbed the hem of her pants and hauled her into the grave. She drove her heel into his mouth. Clocked him in the head with the flashlight. The deader’s grip was iron, his power unnatural.

  “Screw you, Frankenstein!”

  She let loose a flurry of kicks in his face, rocking his thick neck back. Using a jujitsu move, she twisted her leg free of his grasp and scrambled out of the hole. In the darkness, she clutched through the tall grasses for her gun.

  “Murrr!” the deader moaned, climbing out of the hole wielding the shovel. He raised it over his head and brought it down hard.

  Sidney rolled left.

  The shovel bit into the ground beside her head. The deader ripped it from the ground and swung another decimating blow.

  She ducked under the swipe. Spying her gun, she snatched it up and blasted away.

  “Eat Glock, you ugly undead sonofabitch!”

  Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!

  The deader staggered backward, shovel slipping through its grasp, teetering on the lip of the grave.

  Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!

  Goo oozed from the hole in its chest as it toppled into the grave.

  Thud!

  Chest heaving, Sidney leaned over the grave.

  The deader’s arms shot up.

  Blam! Blam! Blam!

  The deader’s arms fell down.

  Morning Glory. She took out another fifteen-round magazine and reloaded. What was that goon made of?

  A man rushed toward her. She aimed for his head. He raised his arms. It was Smoke. “Where in the hell have you been?”

  “Sorry,” he said, peering into the grave. “Another deader?”

  “I guess,” she said, glaring at him. “Now, if you don’t mind, where were you?”

  “While you were fumbling through the trunk, I saw somebody running and went after them.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell me.”

  “When a wolf chases a rabbit, he doesn’t think about it.”

  “So you think like a dog?”

  “I said I was sorry. You’re a big girl, Agent Shaw. Get over it.” Then he said with a little guilt in his voice. “I really didn’t anticipate any danger. I should have known better. Sorry.”


  She could see the heavy look in his eye. He meant it. And he was right. She didn’t need to get into the habit of relying on someone else. “Just give me a heads-up next time.”

  Smoke sauntered over to the grave marker and ran his fingers over the engraving. “You need to see this,” he said.

  She took out her phone, turned its light on, and shined in on the marker. Sidney read it out loud: “Edwin Lee. 1865-1945. A humble servant of the Drake Foundation.” There was a black sun rising at the top. She looked at the body on the ground, covered only with the burlap sack. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Smoke cut away at the cords with a knife and peeled the burlap away from the face.

  Just as her mother had described lay the cold dead face of Edwin Lee.

  CHAPTER 14

  “Weird,” Smoke said, looking at the dead body. “Really weird. He doesn’t look like a deader. Practically a fresh corpse.” He glanced at Sidney. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I don’t have time to bleed,” she said.

  Smoke started laughing. “I can’t believe you just said that. Is there something you’re not telling me? Did you used to be part of the secret SEALS or something?”

  The willies that had been creeping through her bones started to subside. She needed some humor, something real and tangible in what was become a bizarre world. “My father and brothers were big fans of the movie.”

  “And you weren’t?”

  “Well, I liked it too—the first twenty times.”

  “It was a pretty popular phrase among the seals,” he said, “I’ve just never heard a woman use it. I like it.”

  “So, assuming we haven’t woken the dead, did you find what you were chasing?”

  “Disappeared into a mausoleum.” He pointed over a ridge of tombstones. “That’s when I heard your shots.” He nudged the body of Edwin Lee with his boot. “What do you want to do with him?”