Who Hunts the Hunter by Nyx Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

that is very aggravating. It’s what she gets for trying to get subtle. She’s seen this kind of thing work in practically every actionvid she’s ever watched: the female offers her body, the male gives the female whatever she wants. Yet this stupid fragging two-leg male sees her nude and thinks only of sex—right here, right now. She smells it in his scent. And she’s too short of time to try and take the tease any further.
    She hurls herself at him, using her hands like bludgeons, slamming into his face and head, only her hands are massive paws and her arms are covered with fur, and she’s driving him down, down, into the snow.
    The male’s struggles grow frantic. Words of fear burst from his mouth. Tikki straddles his chest and pins his arms and leans down till her face is just a breath away from his. As she speaks, fangs gleam from among her teeth. She feels a sudden urge to seize his neck in her jaws and squeeze the life out of him, but she resists."The elves are where?”
    The male stammers, straining to squirm away. His eyes are huge with terror."Don’t know! Headed south ..
    That is no news. Two-legs on the Road to Nowhere head in only two directions and she already knows the elves did not go north."Their names.”
    “T-Tang ... called one Tang !”
    Streetname. Assumed name. Runner? corporate? criminal? what? “There were three.”
    “Don’t know the slitches’ names!”
    Then Tang is the name of the male."They paid you how?”
    “Cred. Credstick.”
    “Give it.”
    “My pocket!”
    Tikki tugs and tears. A credstick falls into the snow. She snatches it up, then lowers her face to the male’s face, breath rumbling in her throat. She can feel the fur coming out on her face, her fangs lengthening, her arms and shoulders swelling with power."The elves used your truck,” she growls in a voice inhumanly deep."What did they tell you?"
    "Hunting ... going hunting!”
    “Hunting what?”
    “Moose! I don’t know!”
    That is a lie, but it does not smell like a lie. The male is too scared to lie, so the elves must have told him lies. No animal would wait while a hunter stalked near in a noisy ACV. Except a cub too young and too weak to run. Or a cub who thought to hide.
    Tikki drives one paw across the male’s face, hitting hard enough to hurt. That is the payment the male deserves for helping the elves. He slumps, unconscious. Lucky to be alive. Tikki stands.
    The credstick in her hand gleams softly. It looks like a certified credstick. Such sticks may be used by anyone. Unlike normal credsticks, they carry no electronic codes to identify the bearer. They do, however, carry codes that identify the bank or corp that issued them, and that may lead her to the elf called Tang and the two females.
    Tikki considers the male at her feet, and the Mostrans ACV, dismisses both and walks to the door of the tavern. A cloud smelling of two-leg sweat, stale beer, and cigarettes meets her nose long before she puts out a hand and pushes inside.
    The main room is small and rustic and, like the outside, seems made of wood. The music keening quietly from the neon-stroked box in the corner is nearly a decade behind the mode. The two-legged humans seated on stools at the bar and at tables scattered around are dressed in ragged natural fibers and cheap plastiwear. One or two wear feathers and other ornaments suggestive of Amerinds.
    Beside the door is a payfone. Tikki turns to that, slots the credstick from her friend outside, and keys a telecom code. The other end rings once. The voice that answers is like two voices, one male, one female, speaking in synch.
    “Your number?”
    Tikki keys in a number. This is a previously established code that ID’s her as the owner of an account possessing much nuyen. As the next several moments pass, Tikki watches the payfone’s small viewscreen. The normal calling screen is gradually replaced by a stylized face, a sort of cartoon animation, far too large to fit on the screen. Only the