Chapter 14

14

Rain fell the next morning, puddles forming in the parking lot of the apartment complex. I stood under the overhang of the balcony above the leasing office and sipped my coffee, attempting to get myself in the mindset for work. Earlier, after helping a tenant who’d locked herself out, I’d taken a walk around the grounds. Duncan’s van wasn’t in the lot.

For days, I’d been trying to get rid of him, and I especially hadn’t wanted him lurking around, finding a way to snoop in my apartment while I’d been gone. But now… Now, a strange loneliness filled me. No, it was more than that. Since the boys had left, I’d grown used to loneliness. I read and turned on the television for company at night, and that was usually enough. Uncertainty and unease were what I felt now. I was being stalked by mortality. My mother’s, for certain, and it was also possible that Augustus would show up again and finish what he’d started. If Duncan wasn’t here to help fend him off, could I survive my cousin’s assault?

Maybe if I allowed the wolf to return. In my youth, I’d been a match for anyone in the pack, even the strong males. But what would it be like now that I’d grown older? If I turned, would my knee ache, as it often did in my human form? Would I be feeble and weak? Would I have forgotten everything my instincts had once known? How to hunt and kill my prey? How to fight off dangerous rivals?

It occurred to me that I’d now spent more years of my life sublimating the wolf and being a full human than I had in my normal state. What if those tingles of magic were only teasing me and it turned out that I couldn’t turn anymore?

I wished I had someone to talk to about all this. If Duncan returned, maybe I would share some of these feelings with him. He wasn’t anyone I could trust, but I wished he were. Until this week, I hadn’t realized that I missed having a partner and a confidant. It had been so long since my husband had been that. And my sons… They knew nothing of my heritage, my magic. I’d always sheltered them, trying so hard to be a normal human being for them and their teachers and friends. Anyone who might judge them for having a weird mom.

Bolin’s gleaming G-wagon entered the parking lot, sending up spray as the tires rolled through puddles.

I was in enough of a funk that talking to my unwanted intern actually sounded appealing. But I couldn’t help but look wistfully toward the street, hoping Duncan would show up, whether I should want that or not.

“I did offer to let him metal detect the grounds,” I murmured.

Would that draw him? Maybe not. It was possible something interesting was buried in the greenbelt over there, but I had a feeling his metal detecting had been a pretext for something. A way to spy on me?

It was hard to imagine being someone interesting enough for anyone to want to spy on, but all I had to do was think of the hidden cameras to be reminded that someone had been keeping an eye on me. And Duncan was definitely interested in the magical case.

“Hey, Luna.” Bolin half-grunted the greeting.

With bags under his eyes, he approached, carrying two large coffee cups. Judging by the caramel drizzled over the whipped cream of one, he meant to drink his daily quota of calories. Possibly before nine.

“Hi. Is one of those for me?” I had my own coffee, thanks to my home espresso maker, so I didn’t need a drink, but I rarely saw someone carrying two for himself. Maybe he’d talked one of those girls who’d been touring an apartment into a morning coffee date.

“Uhm. No.” Bolin stopped a few steps away and curled the cups protectively—or maybe that was possessively —to his chest. “Since the workday here starts at an ungodly hour, I knew I’d need extra fortification to make it through the morning.”

“It’s 7:57.”

He looked blankly at me.

“Didn’t you have to take any morning classes in college? Get up early for spelling-bee practice?”

“Not my senior year. I picked late-start stuff. And you always want to study for bees when your brain is sharpest.”

“Which is not at eight a.m. for you?”

“I get in my groove around one.”

“P.M.?”

“No.”

“Ah.”

Bolin squinted assessingly at me but must have decided I was unlikely to jump him for his coffee. Either of them. He stepped under the overhang with me, then lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I have news.”

“If it’s that Jonas in A-4 splices cable from his neighbor and doesn’t pay, I’ve already given him a warning. I told him he’s not getting a new garbage disposal until he starts giving Linda next-door money for what he’s been sneakily sharing with her.”

“Er, I haven’t examined the cable lines of the tenants.” Bolin yawned and wiped his tired eyes with the back of one hand, not spilling a drop of the coffee. “Do I need to do that?”

“It’s good to know what’s going on.”

“I think I’d have to live here to learn as much about the goings-on as you.” His nose wrinkled with distaste as he looked around the grounds. The well-manicured and assiduously tended grounds. Only someone who lived a luxury lifestyle could have sneered at them.

“There are some vacant units if you want to move in. On a clear day, E-33 has a view of the dumpsters.”

His nose wrinkled even more. “I can’t believe I came in extra early to help you.”

“It’s three minutes before eight.” I glanced at the time on my phone and waved at the office hours posted outside the door. “Now, two minutes before eight.”

“I can’t believe I came in slightly early to help you.”

“Tell me what help you’re offering so I know how appreciative to be of your sacrifice.”

Bolin lowered his voice again—further. “It’s about the case.”

I perked up at that. I hadn’t forgotten about it, but the previous night’s events, especially Mom’s revelation that she was dying, had distracted me. “Did you research it?”

“Yeah, and I asked my father about it. He was really into it, like it was a piece of fine art or something. He got a magnifying glass out and could tell it was druid craftsmanship and magic. Old World kind. He said artifacts like that are really rare, especially in our country. They hardly ever make it out of Europe.”

I thought of the medallion Mom had shown me and wondered what a druid would think of it.

“Even over there,” Bolin continued, “real druids are scarce these days. Magic has been bleeding out of the world for generations, at least according to my dad. But your case is probably really old and was made when there were more crafters around, more people with the gift. He figured it’s centuries old, at least.”

“Interesting.”

And puzzling. It wouldn’t have been entirely mystifying if one of my family members had hidden something to do with werewolves at my place—maybe trying to hide it from the rest of the pack?—but I hadn’t crossed paths with many druids. If the case had been made with their magic, it might not have anything to do with my mom’s medallion after all. Werewolves had their own magic, their own crafters, though they were also scarce these days.

“There’s some writing on the bottom too,” Bolin added. “It’s faded and hard to read, so I didn’t notice it at first. I left Dad painstakingly copying it. He said he’ll get out some books and see if he can translate it.”

“Did he figure out how to open the case and see what’s inside?”

“I don’t think so. He said it would be wise to research it thoroughly before attempting to do so because it’s ensorcelled.”

“Yeah.” I rubbed the hand that had been zapped, glad I hadn’t tried to force the lid open.

“ I might have tried to open it,” Bolin admitted.

“How’d that go?”

“This is an iced mocha because my father suggested a cold pack for my hand.” Bolin held up the drink with the caramel sauce drizzled over the whipped cream, and I glimpsed a bandage on his palm.

“Is it numbing you suitably?”

“Yup.” He slurped from the straw. “We took some pictures and made notes. When do you need me to bring the case back?”

I considered Duncan’s interest. As far as I knew, that hadn’t changed. I didn’t know him well enough to guess whether he would break into a locked apartment to steal something. From what I’d seen of his career, thus far, the magic- and metal-detector adventures weren’t illegal, but… who knew how far his endeavors for finding lost things went? What if those lost things were stashed in someone’s sock drawer? And was it strange that I missed Duncan’s company and was debating if he was a thief?

“Why don’t you keep it for a couple of days?” I suggested. “While you guys study it.”

“Are you sure? My father said it’s really valuable, at least to those who know what it is.” Bolin sipped from one of his cups. “He’s got a safe he can keep it in, I guess. You wouldn’t want it just lying around. If someone who doesn’t know anything about magic and artifacts gets their hands on it, it could end up at a flea market.”

“I’d think the good-looking wolf carved into the front would make someone think it has more value than a five-dollar tchotchke.”

“Okay, it might end up on Etsy. Do you know the origins of that word?”

“Tchotchke? It’s Yiddish, isn’t it?”

“Originally, it comes from the Polish word for trinket. It was adopted into Yiddish slang as tshatshke and popular with Jewish Americans last century.” A nose wrinkle suggested Bolin might not think it was still popular and that I was an old fart for using it.

“Did you ever have to spell either at a bee?” I asked.

“No, but they’d be easy.”

“If you say so.” I’d only typed the word a few times, and AutoCorrect had had a heyday with my attempts.

After another contemplative sip, Bolin said, “The wolf element on the case is what’s most interesting to me. It’s not an atypical druid symbol, but it’s not that common of one either.”

“Do you think there’s any tie to werewolves ? Did they ever interact much with druids?” It was hard for me to dismiss the idea that Mom’s medallion and that box were somehow linked .

“Werewolves?” Bolin mouthed.

“Yeah, from the Old English werwulf, which means wer, the old-school word for man, and wolf.” I gave him an arch look, wondering if he would be surprised that I knew that. Werewolves, of course, were more pertinent to me than tchotchkes, so I’d had occasion to read about them.

“I know about the word origins—including the French loup-garou , the Greek lycanthrope , and the Russian vulkodlak , among others—but werewolves don’t exist. They’re fictional beings from fairy tales. Not like druids.”

“You don’t think so, huh?” I was surprised that he couldn’t sense the magic in me, or at least in Duncan, whom he’d been close to now. After all, I could sense that Bolin had a smidgen of the paranormal about him. “There are words for them in a lot of languages.”

“Many classic fairy tales were retold in numerous languages.” Bolin shrugged and looked toward the parking lot as a familiar van pulled in.

I shouldn’t have felt a zing of excitement at Duncan’s appearance, especially when I’d been debating his likelihood of thieving thirty seconds earlier, but I caught myself smiling.

A plumbing truck rolled into the parking lot after him—the guys we’d called to fix the pipe leak in our tenant’s moldy apartment—and I headed out to meet them. I would have to deal with work first.

“Man the phones and answer emails, will you?” I called over my shoulder to Bolin.

“Like a dutiful secretary instead of an accountant with a college degree and numerous extracurricular activities?”

“Yup.”

“Okay.”

“Your parents will be pleased.”

Bolin grumbled something under his breath but stepped into the office. What an odd intern. How could the kid believe in druids but not werewolves?

As I led the plumbers to the appropriate apartment, a whistling Duncan hopped out of the sliding door in his van with his metal detector in hand. He didn’t have bags under his eyes. If he depended on coffee to wake up on a gray Seattle morning, he’d already had it, because he cheerfully waved the metal detector at me before brazenly going over the lawn right in front of the leasing office. Well, I had given my permission for that.

After I got the plumbers started, I joined him, standing on the walkway and watching him wander through the dewy grass, shoes growing wet as he swung the metal detector back and forth.

“I chatted with the local alchemist last night,” he offered.

“Oh?” An unexpected mixture of anticipation and dread made my gut squirm.

I wanted a new stash of my potions. At least I was fairly certain I did. At the same time, Mom’s invitation floated through my mind. If you come hunt with the pack, perhaps you will find what you seek.

If only I dared. If Augustus and Marco were indicators of how most of the family felt about me, hunting with them would be dangerous. Hell, even turning into a werewolf after twenty-five years of sublimating the magic could be dangerous. What if my temper and ability to control those powerful animal emotions was as bad as it had been back then? Or worse?

“She’s going to search for a formula and get back to me soon,” Duncan said. “She didn’t think it would take long. She has a lot of grimoires and cookbooks—whatever potions recipe books are called—on her shelves. Along with shrunken skulls, bundles of dried herbs, and decorations made with desiccated chicken feet. Her home is a quirky place.”

“Says the werewolf who lives in a van decorated with giant magnets and magic detectors. I’m surprised you sleep in there with that stuff. Don’t you worry about all that equipment unraveling your DNA or something?”

“Magnets aren’t radioactive . And the van isn’t decorated with them. It stores them for everyday use.”

“Which isn’t quirky.”

“Nope. It’s useful, and so am I. As you’ll see when I deliver your potion to you at cost plus ten percent.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“As I strive to be, my lady.” Duncan swept the metal detector out wide so he could bow to me.

One of the plumbers leaned out of the apartment to call, “I turned off the water to replace pipes, but there’s a leak in the sewer line too. You need to let me in to the upstairs place to cut their water off too, or you could have shit flooding this place.”

“There’s a reason I’m bemused when you call me my lady ,” I told Duncan before heading off to help the plumbers.

When I returned, Duncan was waiting for me, the metal detector stationary as he leaned on it, hands folded on top. “There’s something else the alchemist wanted to know.”

“What?” I asked warily, afraid I would have to further explain why I wanted such a potion.

“Apparently, she knows—or knew—the alchemist who lived and worked here. An old retired nurse and witch, right? This lady wanted to know what happened to her.”

“I haven’t figured that out yet. Beatrice disappeared from her apartment. So did her furnishings and whatever desiccated doodads she had. I left a message for the only number I have on file—her daughter’s, I think—but I haven’t been able to get in touch with her or any other relatives.”

“Oh. Hmm. This alchemist—Rue is her name—was concerned that there might have been foul play. Or that you or someone else threatened or harmed the other lady. She had some reservations about getting involved with you. ”

“I don’t harm tenants.” I didn’t try to hide the indignation in my voice. “I work hard and at all hours of the day and night to make sure they’re well cared for.”

“Oh, I assumed so.” Duncan looked toward the apartment where the plumbers worked. “I just didn’t know anything about the missing alchemist or what to tell this one.”

“I don’t know either. Having Beatrice disappear from under my nose is odd. People usually give notice if they’re moving out. They want their damage deposits back and for me to stop billing them.”

“Naturally.” Duncan scratched his jaw. “I’ll assure Ms. Rue that you didn’t do anything, but… is it possible foul play was at work?”

“Beatrice was seventy-five and quilted when she wasn’t brewing potions. I can ask some of the local witches, but I doubt she had a lot of enemies left alive.”

“ You seem to have enemies.”

“No kidding,” I replied automatically before twigging to what he meant. “Wait, you think someone got rid of Beatrice because she was my potion supplier?”

Could Augustus have known about her?

“Maybe someone wanted you to run out,” Duncan said.

“I don’t think that makes sense. If anything, my enemies—as far as I know, it’s really only some family members who are peeved with me—would prefer to keep me in this weaker form.” I waved to my human body. “I’d be able to better fend them off if I lost my ability to sublimate the wolf.” I wasn’t sure when I’d started to speak with Duncan openly about this, but, after turning wolf himself and battling my family, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t learned quite a bit already.

“I suppose that’s true. It was just a thought.”

“My ex-husband…” I trailed off, less interested in sharing about Chad.

Duncan raised his eyebrows.

“Never mind,” I said .

“Would he have plotted with someone to make you turn into a wolf? You implied his behavior is, ah, sketchy.”

“He’s an ass. And there’s nothing wrong with your memory, is there?”

“Nope.”

“I guess the magnets aren’t deleterious to your health, after all.”

“No, I snuggle right up to them in bed when I’m bereft of female companionship.”

“Charming. As to the rest, Chad didn’t know about Beatrice. And he’s long gone anyway.”

“Of course.”

“Let me know when I can get the potion, please. I’ll be happy to pay your ten percent surcharge.” A thought occurred to me, and I leaned into the office, delving into one of the drawers where I stashed chocolate. “Here. A bonus for your hard work.” I broke off a number of squares from one of my treasured dark-chocolate bars.

“Oh.” Duncan brightened and stepped closer. “Does that one have bits of pork in it too? I wasn’t expecting to find meat in chocolate.”

“We Americans like to put bacon in everything. We’re a health-conscious nation.”

“Yes, quite. I believe that’s what the rest of the world knows this country for.”

“I have no doubt.”

Duncan snorted, but he accepted the squares.

“Those are orange dark chocolate. They’re meatless but good. Bring me that potion at only five percent above cost, and I’ll make you one of my famous desserts. My boys love it. Chocolate-covered beef jerky rolled in honey-toasted pecans. It’s also popular with…”

A tenant walked out the door and headed toward the parking lot, glancing our way .

I finished with, “carnivores,” instead of werewolves .

When I turned to head into the office, Duncan stopped me with a questioning, “Luna?”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow’s the full moon.”

“I’m aware.” I didn’t and wouldn’t mention the increasingly strong urges I’d been experiencing these last few nights.

Duncan glanced back to make sure the tenant was out of earshot. “Would you like to go for a hunt with me tonight?”

My belly fluttered with nerves. He was asking me on a date. Werewolf-style. This was how our kind did it.

“I mean, if you can,” Duncan added. “Er, can you? If you haven’t gotten that potion yet, you could be… you, right?”

You could be you . As if I’d been an inauthentic person my entire adult life. I knew he hadn’t meant it as an insult, but I couldn’t help but wince.

“Not that we couldn’t hunt if you were human,” he added, maybe noticing my reaction. “I don’t have anything vested in seeing you change. It’s just that I didn’t notice any guns in your apartment. I’d guess you would have trouble bringing down a ten-point buck as a human.”

“I do have that reciprocating saw.”

“If you bring that along on a hunt and try to stab a deer with it… I would feel fully justified in recording the confrontation to upload to my social-media sites.” Duncan tapped the phone in his pocket.

“Aren’t you and your silvering pelt a little old for social media?”

“My pelt is merely highlighted by silver right now, and of course not. I have to document my magnet-fishing and metal-detecting adventures.”

“People get excited seeing you pluck rusty forks out of lakes? ”

“Oh yes. It’s the accent, you see. Bacon isn’t the only thing you Americans love.” He winked at me.

“Uh-huh.” I turned, intending to get to work, but he stopped me with another prompt.

“A hunt?”

I started to shake my head, but hadn’t I been worrying about visiting my family and joining the entire pack for a hunt? And how dangerous that could turn out to be for me? Assuming I could successfully change at all, after all this time, and I didn’t yet know if I could.

Going with Duncan the night before the full moon might be a low-key way to test things. To see if I could still change, to see if I had the power and stamina I’d once claimed, enough to take down a buck—or another predator turning on me. I could go on my own, but if something went wrong… maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have someone friendly around to help. Oh, I still didn’t trust that Duncan wasn’t here on a personal agenda, but I didn’t get the vibe that he intended me any harm. Not like my awful cousin. Duncan had protected me from Augustus. From all of them. Maybe Duncan wanted something from me, and it would be easier to get if I was alive, but maybe he actually liked me.

“Okay,” I said, the nerves once more teasing my gut.

“Excellent.” Duncan bowed to me again, popped some chocolate into his mouth, and fired up his metal detector. “I’ll see you tonight.”

I hoped I wouldn’t regret my decision.