THE HUNT

CHAPTER-SIX

Adam killed the mustangs engine. And looked across the street at the shit-Brown apartment complex. Billy Busby lived there in apartment 84, shared with four other Zuka's. A pack dweller unlike vamps, who chose to live alone, roam alone, hunt alone. And now, Adam and Clint needed Billy alone.

The little dip-shit had been keeping a low profile over the last few months and they intend to find out why. Clint pulled out his cell phone and opened up the file that PSI, sent.

They'd already knew their suspect, but reviewed the information anyway. Five-foot seven, dirty blond hair. A missing ear, the results of a werewolf attack two years ago.

Billy Busby had lived in the slums before the Zuka transformation, and he lived there still, his days spent haggling on the city's busy street corners, and his nights spent wandering the town, sucking down hard liquor at various Zuka hangouts.

He was a big mouth, sharing information he'd learned about vamps with the PSI--or with anyone else if the price was right. Unfortunately, his big mouth went hand and hand with a reputation of being a know it all. He'd started spreading rumors about a daywalker and the dead humans, and because it was Billy talking, the paranormal community believed him and more rumors had circulated.

Adam and Clint got out of the car then crossed the street as Billy emerged from the apartment's main door, for his late-night round of drinking. He turned east towards the intersection to the corner bar that catered to humans but, was still Billy's traditional first stop.

They fell in step behind him and Adam's contempt for the piece of shit surged when Billy didn't detect their scent. This Zuka was useless. A wast of fucking air.
Adam and Clint lengthened their strides and caught up to Billy outside the bar.

As Billy pulled open the door Adam stepped close behind and caught Billy's free arm with an iron grip. With his right, Adam pressed the nose of the clock 45 into the small of the Zuka's back. "Billy Busby," he growled. "Step into my office."

The bastard stiffened, but Adam pushed them both through the door. Billy might summon the change, but this wasn't a Zuka bar, and changing in front of humans was not only reckless and stupid, but it was also against the law. And Adam didn't think a weasel-like Billy had the balls to change into his reptilian form.

"Sit," Adam snapped, shoving the Zuka into a dark booth. "Start talking."

"Just stop right there, I already don't give a fuck," Billy fired back, and Adam smirked. It wasn't exactly courage, but it was gutsy.

"I want to be out of this hellhole," Clint said, sliding into the seat opposite of Billy.
"But I'm learning to live with disappointment."

Billy hawked up a wad of phlegm and spit it at Clint. It missed his face by merely an inch--which was fortunate for Billy's life span--and landing with a wet splat onto his collar. Clint wiped it away, his eyes never leaving Billy. "You're the reason the gene pool needs a lifeguard?"

"If you look close enough, that high-horse people ride in on, is actually a donkey."

"I don't have the energy tonight, to even pretend to like you. We work for PSI," Clint said and watched as his face crumpled. Then quickly shifted back into a snarling indifference.

"Good for you ass-hole," Billy said. " Now, get the fuck, out of my face.

"I believe, I'll stay a while longer."

Adam leaned back into the booth, across from the suspect. "Word on the street is you're a blabbermouth." Billy stayed silent. Adam glared. "Maybe, the word on the street was wrong."

"If I had a face like yours, I'd sue my parents."

Adam leaned forward, never leaving Billy's eyes. "You've been talking about a daywalker and the dead humans. I want to know why."