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

by Craig Halloran

  They spent less than an hour at the scene before the FBI let them go. Four men who had been wounded in the battle were taken into custody. Two more died from their wounds. Sidney and Smoke were lucky. The entire battle took place just outside of private property. Cyrus Tweel, her current supervisor, was there. The conversation was unpleasant. She wanted to go back into the compound and get the children. His response was a flat-out no.

  “Are you going to take Smoke now?” she said to Cyrus.

  His brow crinkled. “No, not this time. You don’t have the mark yet. But it would be for the better. This is a mess.” And with that, Cyrus departed.

  “I wouldn’t worry about them,” Smoke said.

  “About who?”

  “Those kids. There’s something strange about them.”

  “They’re kids.”

  “Very odd ones.” He shifted in the car seat. “You know what I’m talking about.”

  She did. The children’s faces were almost identical to the ones they’d rescued months ago at Ray Cline’s place. Their complexions and hair color were different. Otherwise, they were the same. “I know.”

  Cruising down the highway, she continued to gather her thoughts about all of the details. Mason Crow was a minotaur. None of it seemed real. Not to mention the fact that there were dozens of men and women who had seen him. They had lives, family and friends, and they knew about this. How can this madness be hidden?

  “Makes you think, doesn’t it?” Smoke said.

  She downshifted and let off the gas pedal, then accelerated into the turn. “About what?”

  “About how these monsters are hiding in plain sight.” He drummed his hands on the dash. “With all of the security videos and social media, you would think the entire world would know about it. Certainly someone has posted something, somewhere, and lived to tell about it.”

  Russ Davenport, the reporter for Nightfall DC, came to mind. She needed to check and see if he had survived or not. He was just the kind of person Smoke was talking about. “I guess the powers that be pick the stories that matter.” She rubbed a knot on her head from the van’s rollover. “Sometimes I feel like I’m in an episode of The X-Files.”

  “Yeah, where are the Lone Gunmen when you need them? So, where to now?

  She hadn’t given her next move much thought. “I guess I’ll drop you off at your place.”

  “Well, the cupboards are kinda bare. I wouldn’t mind a round of pancakes. Fighting a minotaur can really work up your appetite.”

  Her tummy rumbled. “Fine. And I imagine you have a place in mind.”

  “Take the next exit and hang a left.”

  Her phone buzzed. There was a message on it. It read:

  Time to meet. Carlson.

  She showed it to Smoke.

  His brows lifted. “Huh. An address and everything. But I’m getting my pancakes first.”

  ***

  Mal Carlson’s home was a round structure full of glass windows, sitting on a massive stone, partially hidden in the trees that overlooked a place called Henson Creek. The unique circular architecture was odd to say the least, but beautiful the same. Sidney knocked on the red door. Smoke stood on the broad granite steps behind her, cleaning his teeth with a toothpick. She glared at him.

  “What?” he said.

  She plucked the piece of wood from his mouth and flicked it away. The door opened, and a pretty, oriental woman in an ivory silk gown bowed and said, “Please, come in.”

  They eased their way into the home. The woman led them down the landing into a room that appeared to be a combination of a living room, a bedroom and a kitchen. Like a massive studio apartment, it was wide open and decorated in tasteful décor from various cultures all over the world. There was only one little closed-off area, which Sid assumed was the privacy of a bathroom. The furniture was anything from colonial American to Italian Renaissance. There were small busts and statues on pedestals of figures she did not recognize. Nothing striking, but odd. She stared at one marble statue that had a bald head, an eye patch, and the grisly look of a pirate.

  “That’s Carl the Reaver,” said an unfamiliar voice that spoke with what sounded like an early American accent, “eighteenth century hero, that is.”

  Sidney turned. Alongside the oriental woman, who stood just outside of the kitchen, was an elegant man with olive skin, in a simple white cotton outfit. His eyes were ancient and inquisitive, his demeanor purpose-filled, more charming than handsome.

  “Finally, Agent Shaw, you can put a face to all of those troublesome texts.” He walked over and offered his hand. “I’m Mal Carlson, and this is my wife, Asia. Welcome to our home. Ah, and this must be Mr. John Smoke.” He looked up into Smoke’s eyes. “I think you and Carl would have gotten along quite well. He was a Navy man.”

  “Who lived in the eighteenth century,” Smoke said. “How would you know what he liked?”

  “I’m a bit of a historian and very knowledgeable about peculiar things.” He moved toward a dining room table that offered a wonderful view of the outdoors. “Come and sit. We have much to talk about. Asia is preparing some food for us. Something to drink first? Coffee, water, whiskey, wine—or Mountain Dew perhaps?”

  “This is it?” Smoke said, taking a seat. “I was expecting something a little different.”

  “Like the Bat Cave?” Mal said, chuckling. “Be patient. This is only the first floor. I have a basement. So, drinks or no drinks?”

  “Water’s fine,” Sid said, taking a closer look at Mal. He had strong features in his slender face, and high cheekbones. His nearly black hair covered his ears and rested on his neck. There was some gray in it.

  “Asia!” he blurted out. “Bring out some water!” He leaned across the table. “Don’t be alarmed. She’s a little hard of hearing. Asia!”

  “I’m coming!” She hurried into the room and rolled three bottled waters down the table. “There!” She smiled. “Anything else?”

  “I’m sure our guests are hungry. A prepared meal would be nice.”

  Asia narrowed her eyes on her husband. “You did not tell me guests were coming. How about I order pizza?”

  “I was thinking you could make one of your home dishes?” Mal said, pleading and whining a little.

  “A Philly cheesesteak?”

  “No! That thing with the rice.”

  “Rice-a-roni?”

  “No!”

  “Jambalaya?”

  “Never mind,” Mal said, shaking his head. “What do you two like on your pizza?”

  “I’m not hungry,” Sid said.

  “I love everything on mine,” added Smoke.

  “Asia, one order of supreme will do,” he said in a rich voice.

  Asia slid a phone across the table. “You order. My show’s coming on.” She smiled at Sid and Smoke. “Nice meeting you.” Then she planted herself on the sofa, turned on the television, and started laughing.

  A little embarrassed, Mal said, “I didn’t marry her because she could cook. I just married her because I love her.” He picked up the phone and called in a pizza.

  CHAPTER 19

  A polished metal staircase spiraled beneath Mal’s home. A security door waited at the bottom with a red light glowing on the pad. When he pressed his thumb to the scanner, the light turned green, and the door popped open. Inside was a large computer lab. A wall of oversized monitors was the first thing Sidney saw. The rest was cosmetic by comparison.

  “Fifty screens and over a thousand camera feeds from all over DC,” Mal said in admiration. “I know it’s overkill, but it’s quite effective.”

  There were plenty of places she recognized. Hotel lobbies. Monument buildings. High-rise apartments. Traffic lights. Bank buildings. How does he have access to all of this? “You’re an employee of the government, Mr. Carlson?”

  “No. I like to think of myself as a freelancer. ‘Contractor’ is such a rigid word, although I am under contract, so to speak.” Mal glanced at Smoke. “Somewhat similar to yo
ur arrangement.”

  “I didn’t sign any paperwork.” Smoke took a seat in an ultra-modern scoop chair beside a long oval table. “I’m done signing my life away. This way, I can cash out whenever I want to.” He rubbed the table’s polished surface. “Is this pewter?”

  “A hybrid metal.” Mal motioned for Sidney to sit. “Please. I’m sure you have many questions about what exactly is going on.”

  She took a chair alongside Smoke and crossed one leg over the other. “So can you tell us why there’s a minotaur on the loose in DC?”

  Mal’s jaw dropped as he gasped at the same time. He plopped in the seat beside Sidney with an excited look in his eye. “Mason Crow is the ancient beast?”

  “Pretty sure,” she said.

  “Horns and everything,” Smoke added, making little horns with his fingers.

  Mal covered his mouth, uncovered it, and said, “I can’t believe it. But I shouldn’t be surprised. That’s even worse than I suspected.”

  “You said ancient. What do you mean by that?” she asked.

  “Of course.” He made his way over to an alabaster bookshelf that was filled with many heavily bound tomes. He pulled a couple of books free, brought them over, and dropped them on the table. One was the Bible, and the other was a book filled with pages of Egyptian hieroglyphics. “Do you know the story in the Bible where Aaron confronts Pharaoh with his staff?”

  “Exodus seven,” Smoke said. “Aaron casts down the staff. It turns into a snake. Pharaoh’s sorcerers cast down their staffs. They also turn into snakes, but the snake from the staff of Aaron devours them.”

  Mal pointed at him and said, “Right. That’s the kind of evil powers we’re dealing with. In theory anyway.” He opened the Egyptian book of hieroglyphics and pointed at various pictures.

  Sidney leaned forward. He pointed at people with bird heads and dog heads, the Sphinx, and more. A funny feeling overcame her.

  “Seem familiar?” Mal said.

  She made a reluctant nod. “I thought these were pagan images of gods?”

  “Well, in most circles of history and archeology, they’d have you believe that. The truth of the matter doesn’t fit the agenda of the powers that be.” He flipped through the pages. “What they can’t bury, they destroy. That’s how they,” he made air quotes, “control the information. It’s the same today as it was thousands of years ago. They do their work in the dark. Behind the scenes. Pulling unseen strings.”

  “Who are they?” Sidney asked. And do I work for a good they or a bad they?

  “That’s much easier to ask than to answer. Even I don’t know for sure, but I’ll share my theories. Fallen angels, demons, evil spirits, nephilim, annunaki—those are a few of the more common names. They carry the supernatural seed that spoils humanity.” He moved over to the computer and pulled up ancient images of Greek, Roman, Hindi, and other gods. “I believe these beings really did exist. Men and women of great renown and stature. Some records report them as being over twelve feet tall. The legends of Medusa, Prometheus, mermaids, sirens, unicorns—I think they are all various accounts of the truth.”

  Sidney started to say something.

  Mal held up his hand to indicate he wasn’t finished. “Over the centuries, or even the millennia, good men and women have been fighting these dark forces that continually try to take the world of men over. Empires rise and fall. Great cities are built up and buried. The truth gets distorted into lies or fables. The both of you have seen it for yourselves, and you’ve lived to tell about it. It’s impressive.”

  Sidney’s throat became dry. She glanced at Smoke. His eyes were fixed on Mal Carlson. A single thought ran laps through her mind. This is crazy. “Shouldn’t there be a bigger team fighting against all this? A team of priests or archeologists, maybe?”

  “There have been. There have even been knights and many kinds of crusaders,” Mal said. “Not to mention our pirate friend you noted above, Carl the Reaver. They say his sabre dripped wet with giant men’s blood.”

  Smoke let out a short gusty laugh. “I like this.”

  “So you wish to continue?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “And what about you, Agent Shaw?” Mal said, eyeing her with intent. “Are you still comfortable with your assignment?”

  “I’m not sure what my assignment is anymore.” Or why they picked me.

  “Try not to overthink it. The mission is the same. You’re going after what is believed to be a band of supernatural criminals that are listed on the Black Slate.” He popped up a couple of pictures on the screen. It was Adam Vaughn the werewolf and Angi Harlow the harpy. “Ho ho. When you brought these two in, you opened some eyes. You certified this effort, and they had to acknowledge that sorcery was afoot. Still, they want discretion. And what you two are doing is working. Cutting out these two threw a big wrench into Drake’s network.”

  “So Drake is them?” she said.

  “So to speak. Yes. They are the ones behind this. AV and Night Bird were a pair of their top commanders. You sent ripples through that network when you took them down. Their cult-like henchmen scattered, and that made them angry. So now, the pressure is on in Washington.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “They’ll start digging around. Trying to figure out who’s behind these efforts. Bribe and bully the congressmen and senators they have in their pockets.”

  On the monitors, pictures of Congressman Wilhelm and several others popped up.

  Daggers of ice shot through Sidney’s veins.

  “They have their people in there,” Mal said, “but don’t fret. We have ours. So far as I know, the details of your missions are under wraps. There’s still plenty of good people in the bureau protecting you both.”

  “But Wilhelm’s already made us, and they’ve tried to kill us more than once. Not to mention they know we’re in possession of the files. So whoever is protecting us is doing a lousy job.”

  “Well, I didn’t say they were good at it.” He tapped some more keys, and dozens of pictures of kids popped up. “If these faces seem familiar, it’s because they are. We call them the Forever Children.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Sidney got up from her seat for a closer look. Young boys and girls with different-colored hair and complexions were scattered all over the screens. The faces of all the girls and boys were almost identical. Some had freckles. Others red hair. Black. White. Asian. Many different styles of hair. “Who are they?”

  Mal put on a pair of glasses and studied one of the faces on the screen. “Simply put, they’re clones.”

  “That doesn’t sound very supernatural.”

  Mal rubbed his chin. “Well, there is a supernatural element to it. That’s what makes them breathe anyway. Genetic manipulation. Experimental. Combined with other things that defy scientific explanation.” He pulled up another picture. A burly man with clammy skin was strapped to a table. “This is a deader we found wandering around the woods at AV’s hospital site. Remember that. Blood runs through him like a reanimated corpse. It’s fascinating. As long as his heart pumps, he won’t die, at least not until the spell wears off. It happens sometimes.”

  Sidney took a closer look at the children on the screens.

  “Why children?”

  “Don’t let these little minions fool you, Agent Shaw. They are faithful to their hive. Soulless slaves.” He cleared his throat. “No one has any fear of a child. They throw your instincts off. They’re the perfect workers. Remember the ones you found. Have no doubt they are back on the job again.”

  Sidney’s stomach turned. Clones or not, they were children, just as real as any. Using adults was one thing, but using children was sickening. “It’s not right.”

  “None of it is. Mother Nature is being turned inside out. Perverted. Most of these monsters volunteer for it. They want money. Power. The promise of immortality. They become roaring lions that prey on the weak humans who stand too close to the darkness.” Mal faced her. “T
here are only good and evil. There is no in-between. Few know the difference, such as you and Mr. Smoke over there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When it comes to battling these shape shifters, one has to come from a very solid foundation or else be lured in. That’s one of the reasons why the pair of you were picked.” He pecked on the keyboard and the screens went black. “You’d be surprised at the number of good people who have fallen victim to their temptations.”

  Sidney swallowed, remembering how AV had ignited a passionate fire inside her that she’d never felt before. Dark, lurid, and sensual. Her eyes drifted to Smoke. He sat back, reading the Bible in one hand and switching the pictures with the remote in the other. Pancakes and Butterflies. If Smoke hadn’t been with her, where would she be today? Was she that close to becoming one of them? An evil minion of Drake?

  “Any thoughts, Agent Shaw? Doubts? Concerns?” Mal resumed his seat at the table. “After all, these are some extraordinary items that you’ve been presented with.”

  “It’s an awfully big undertaking for a single agent and a bounty hunter.”

  “And me, naturally,” Mal responded. “That’s why I’m careful how we pick our battles. Much thought and consideration goes into it. The Black Slate is a unique list of people, or shifters. And I am convinced that one of those names is in charge of it all. Who knows, we might be lucky and capture the top dog by accident. Maybe Mason Crow is the one.”

  Sidney sat back down beside Smoke. His face was a mask of concentration. She could almost see the wheels turning inside his head. What is he thinking?

  As for herself, after taking in all that Mal had shared, something began to stir. Her inner fire was stoked. An awakening charged in her blood. She had seen the face of pure evil. Her civilly tempered senses had denied it until now. She took out the postcard that Deanne Drukker had mailed years ago and set it on the table. It read, “Ted, monsters are real. Avoid the Slate.”

  Mal leaned over and read it. His eyes widened a little.

  “You recognize it, don’t you?”