My stomach roiled when she looked at me, the grin going all the way up to her eyes. “It’s the most amazing feeling in the world, man.”
“The killing?” I could barely get the words past my teeth, knowing the hunted, the “it” she could be looking for was within seven square miles of Feng’s rage, and someone who was so close to me.
“No,” Feng shrugged. “That’s just a fringe benefit. The real good feeling comes from knowing that you’re keeping San Francisco safe from another one of those salivating tree-pee-ers.”
“Really?”
“No.” Feng wagged her head, her grin not faltering at all. “I really like the killing.”
I tried to mirror Feng’s overjoyed grin, but I’m pretty sure mine came out as wildly uncomfortable as I felt. I shifted in my chair, trying to take the immense weight off my suddenly full bladder. “At least you enjoy your work,” I managed.
Feng frowned, looking off in the distance again. “Yeah, but, a lot of it is just busy work now. At least that’s the way it feels. Don’t get me wrong; I like making the bullets.”
“They’re like art,” I mumbled absently, repeating what I had heard her say, had heard Dixon say, had heard Will say.
Feng pumped her head, her lips rolling up into an agreeable half smile. “Yeah, they are. I like doing it—and not just because I know what their final destination is.” She mimed shooting a gun once more, and once more my stomach threatened to escape through my mouth.
“It’s just that there’s not a lot to do lately. Not a lot of active duty. We’re pretty clear. Except . . .”
I leaned forward, the angst and sickness in my stomach flip-flopping to heart-palpitating anxiety. “Except?”
Feng leaned back, all the spunk and joy going out of her face as a suspicious expression masked it. “What did you say you wanted again?”
“Um,” I stuttered, digging in my pocket for the silver bullet. “This. This bullet. It’s yours.”
“Uh-huh.”
I sucked in a shaky breath. “I found it at a crime scene.”
Feng looked at me blankly, her expression giving nothing away.
“At Sutro Point.”
Finally, she nodded. Whether it was in agreement or understanding I couldn’t be sure. “You were there.” We locked eyes and I straightened, feeling slightly bolstered. “Why were you there?”
Feng crossed her arms in front of her chest looking relaxed, but guarded. “Same reason you were there, I suspect.”
“I came with a police detective. We were processing the crime scene.”
She raked a hand through her hair, looking away. “Same here.”
“It was a homicide. Two humans were murdered by another human being.”
Another cocked eyebrow, another hint of that wry smile. “I disagree. Actually, my sister Xian disagrees.” She leaned over and plucked the bullet from my hand. “And I don’t shoot just to shoot.”
“So you saw—you saw the perpetrator?”
Feng didn’t answer, didn’t even look at me. She dropped the bullet on the desk and spun it with a finger. I watched the glistening silver blur as it spun.
“So, you were at the crime scene . . . because Xian sensed something?” Xian was the tracker, and Feng was the shooter. That much was pretty clear.
Feng looked at me as if alarmed. “How did you know that?”
I felt my mouth drop open, felt the words sticking in my throat. “Uh . . . uh . . . I just assumed.”
Her eyes flashed as if she was considering my answer. “A werewolf was responsible for those deaths.”
I swallowed hard. “You think?”
“I know. Xian sensed a new wolf in town and twenty-four hours later, two people are torn apart. It’s not rocket science, Pippi Longstocking.”
I bristled.
Feng sighed and crossed her arms. “Why exactly did you come here?”
“I know you’re hunting werewolves. I know you know there is a new wolf in the city.”
Feng’s face remained hard, but I could see her fa?ade crack, just a tiny bit. “And?”
My breath felt short and shallow, and I could feel the damp heat on my palms. “And I need a favor. I need you to call off the hunt.”
Feng’s lips cracked into an amused smile and she waved her hand around her. “You know what we do here, right?”
I slowly snaked my arms in front of me, crossing them at my chest while I kept my eyes firm on Feng’s. “I know exactly what it is you do here, Feng. You’re werewolf hunters. That’s not in question. Now I’m asking you for a favor. I need you to lay off this particular wolf, this particular hunt.”
“Why?” She looked me up and down, her expression making it obvious that she wasn’t all that impressed by what she was seeing. “Does Pippi Werewolf Hunter wanna take a shot?”
I cocked my head, a lock of my red hair tumbling over my shoulder as if on cue. “I’m not screwing with you, Feng. You need to stop hunting this wolf. He’s not one of them.”
Feng’s brows went up. “He’s not a wolf?”
“He is a wolf. . . .”
She shrugged. “Then he’s one of them.”