Red Hood: The Hunt by Erik Schubach

the smell of coffee, always have, but it took a long time for me to appreciate the flavor.”
    She pulled her hood back to reveal her head, stopped breathing and took a sip and didn't start breathing again until the cup was at arm's length.  She looked pleased with herself, and I couldn't help smiling at the eccentric woman.  And damn, I just mean, damn she was attractive.  She tilted her head at my prolonged silence and said, “Ask your questions detective,” She held her breath and took another sip of coffee.
    I had a million questions about her, about all of the coincidences going on, about her apparent knowledge of the huge wolf that killed my family.  But I'm embarrassed to say that my mouth worked without permission from my brain and the first question I blurted out was, “Why do you do that?  Stop breathing before you drink?”
    I think that caught her off guard as she barked out a surprised burst of laughter.  “You could ask me anything, and you choose that?”  She gave me a toothy smile, her eyes glittering in humor.  I noted that her canines were perhaps a little too long.  It gave her a dangerous and animalistic vibe that was somehow exciting.
    She shrugged. “My sense of smell is many times more sensitive than yours detective.  If I don't then the smell would overpower the taste and I wouldn't be able to enjoy my drink as thoroughly.”  I caught myself almost subconsciously moving my cup to my left hand away from her.  This made her smile again and I felt good knowing I prompted that smile.
    My next question was just as inane.  “Why do you keep calling me detective?  You can call me McQueen, Red.”
    She smiled into her cup as she took a sip.  “Why do you keep calling me Red instead of Mari?”  Fair enough.
    For some reason, I was stubborn with this woman, very aware of her close proximity.  I shrugged, and she squinted an eye. “Stubborn.  Have it your way, Detective.”  Why I oughta...   We exchanged dares with our eyes then simultaneously smiled as I looked away to the far side of the little bridge.
    I chose my next question a little better, though I was torn between wanting information about the wolf with the green eyes and finding out what she really was.  She looked like a woman, and pleasingly so, but the things she could do said otherwise.  As far as we knew, there weren't any other science defying creatures stalking the Earth other than werewolves.
    I winced at me thinking creature when applied to this woman who had saved my life without hesitation.  The woman who remained outside the wall at sunset on a full moon just to save one last child from being slaughtered at the gates by officers like me, protecting the city gates from being overrun.  The woman who was studying me with such intensity as I sat there like a fucking idiot just staring at her while I was lost in my own head.
    I blushed then looked at my cup and took a sip.  Then I asked, “Are you human?”  I shocked myself that I found the answer to that more important than the wolf who took my family from me.
    She set her cup down in front of her carefully and took a moment to think with her lips in a thin crease.  She looked at me then down at her hands and then reached up and removed her cloak, setting it beside her.  I heard the clanking and clacking of weapons and gear that must have been hidden inside of it.  I have to admit I took her in, now that I could see more than her hands and face, and I really liked what I saw.  A shapely woman with smallish breasts, who obviously kept herself in shape.  Damn she was pretty.
    She seemed almost bashful when she asked, “Do I look human?”  I blinked and nodded once, then she shrugged and said, “I think so, I mean mostly.  At least I started out that way.  Before...”  One of her hands drifted down to her cloak.
    She turned fully toward me and said quietly, “I'm not sure where to start.  I have never really shared my story with anyone before,