THE HUNT

CHAPTER-THIRTEEN

"Dead," Officer Golf said, his voice carrying across the parking lot as Adam crossed toward him, his long strides kicking up the loose gravel on the pavement.

"Shit." Behind him, Clint shoved his hands into his pockets. Then, as if, something inside him had popped, Clint kicked a rock and sent it flying across the lot. "Dammit, all to hell."

Adam second the emotion, but he didn't give in to it. He was too on edge; the anger that all of their damn scrambling's, too find this killer, had been all for nothing and hovered, too close to the surface. Let it go, and he couldn't guarantee, that he could pull it back.

He met Golf in front of the entrance to the luxury, five-star hotel. The art deco skyscraper sat about five miles away from PSI headquarters. It had been a place for the wealthy for decades since it had been built, in the early nineteen-twenties.

"Time of death?" Adam demanded. "Come on, officer, I need information."

Golf swallowed, the only betrayal of his youth. "Not sure, sir. Two hours, at least. But maybe longer. It could be three. We--we expected the medical examiner to arrive with you."

"We?" Clint asked.

"My partner and I. He's inside. With the body."

"Just the two of you?"

Golf nodded. We wanted to keep this call, low-key, and you both arrived so quickly. . ."

"Not quick enough, if he's been dead for two hours, Adam said.

"Maybe three." Clint reminded Adam.

"Fuck." An hour and Adam had a chance. Maybe even an hour and a half. But three? If it had been three hours, the body would be useless to them. "You told PSI's dispatch, you had a possible lead on our person, "Adam said, referring to the killer they had been hunting nonstop for the last several weeks, ever since the body of Mandy Ahearn's had been discovered in a newly listened condos attic on hummingbird lane.

*

The description of the injuries in the real estate agent's frantic call to 911 had been tagged by PSI's dispatch, and Adam and Clint had arrived even before the human police.

He'd taken one glance at the girl's bloodless skin, ripped-up neck--and knew immediately that his trip too mocking bird lane, hadn't been a waste of time.

A vampire had killed the girl, and the case pertained to the Paranormal Secret Intelligence agency. The ancient organization that investigated, prosecuted, and meted out punishment for crimes performed by supernatural creatures.

Clint had wasted no time with his vamp juju, he'd worked his mind control on the gathering crowd, and soon the local cops were on their way back to the station and the real estate agent was headed to her next showing, completely clueless, that anything disturbing had happened at the condo.

After that, the case had belonged to PSI. More specifically, to Adam and Clint and they'd immediately gone to work. Mandy was dead, but she still had a story to tell, and Adam had crouched beside her, his hand pressed to her shoulder. He saw the fear, the horror in Mandy's wide-opened eyes, and the intricate detail of the vampire's torture that he'd inflected as he caved the girl's own name across her torso.

Most vamps fought against that kind of deprivation and used their willpower to help bind and suppress the monster that was released in transition in the process from human to vampire. Fail the battle, and they became rogue, giving in to their bloodlust and losing their humanity in the process.

As a vampire, Adam had that same dark force living within him. Despite his human appearance, he had to fight the seething, blind rage inside him solely through the force of his own will.
And the effort cost him, but the constant battle made him stronger. It also ensured, he had no patience for vampires who didn't at least try to control their monsters. They were vile, lazy, and evil. They disgusted him beyond all reason and he'd made it his mission to eliminate them.