Chapter 4

4

It was well into the night by the time I finished addressing tenant concerns, cleaning up the parking lot, and, finally, installing the toilet, relieved that renter had returned home late so she hadn’t needed her bathroom.

I always laughed at my supposed eight-to-five office hours. Since I lived in a two-bedroom bottom-floor unit in one of the buildings, it wasn’t like I ever truly left work. The tenants knew where I lived, and now a weirdo werewolf with a metal detector did too.

Oh, Duncan hadn’t come by the leasing office or my apartment, but his van remained in the parking lot, so he hadn’t gone far. Whatever he was here for, it had to be more than searching those woods for trinkets.

Every time I walked past his van, I was tempted to call a tow truck and have it removed from the premises, but he had helped with the thugs. “I’ll give him until tomorrow to vacate.”

In the meantime, I hoped Bolin would return with a completed police report. I would need that for the insurance claims. His meeting with the authorities had taken longer than I expected, and his G-Wagon wasn’t in the lot anymore. I wondered if he’d gone home to talk to his parents about the attack. Or about getting an internship at a less eventful complex.

When I returned to my apartment, I went to the medicine cabinet in my bathroom and pulled out a vial without a label. It was almost empty of the red liquid that I consumed monthly. Not a full dose.

I fished in the drawers by the sink, believing I had another full vial. But I didn’t find it. A jolt of apprehension jarred me. As today’s events had driven home, I needed to take the potion soon. A full dose.

My heritage had almost risen up in the parking lot. Battle always tempted the wolf to come, and it didn’t help that the full moon was only a few days away.

At least, with both of my boys gone from home now, changing and losing my humanity to my wolf half might not turn disastrous. But there were plenty of other people around that I could hurt. I always worried about that. Long ago, that had happened— more than hurting someone had happened—and that devastating night had never stopped haunting me.

“Good thing my dealer lives in the complex.” I put the almost-empty vial back into the medicine cabinet and headed for the door, trying not to beat myself up for letting my supply run low.

Life had been busy that summer with renovations to a lot of the units, along with numerous turns and placements of new tenants. In my personal life, there had been Austin’s graduation and seeing him off to the Air Force.

Cameron had visited for a while too, but he hadn’t stayed long. He’d curled his lip at the idea of sleeping in his old room, the one he’d shared with his brother all through school. As I’d learned, he still hadn’t forgiven me for not having the money to send him to college two years earlier, so he’d mostly come to see Austin .

What was that old saying? That it was easy to love one’s children but not always easy to like them?

I didn’t blame Cameron that much for his attitude though. My ex had always promised the boys that there would be a college fund for them. And, for a long time, there had been. But Chad had emptied it before leaving the country—and abandoning me to figure out how to pay off a car loan and credit card debt on my modest income.

On the one hand, I’d always had free rent at the complex, so that was a plus. But, on the other, I didn’t earn much, and the Seattle area was an expensive place to live, especially with teenage boys with enormous appetites. It had taken selling the car and two years of scrimping to scrape my way out of debt. I’d then proudly paid for my twenty-year-old pickup—an ugly hooptie, as a friend called it—with cash.

Even though I was doing better now, it was hard not to loathe my ex. He’d left without signing the divorce paperwork—fortunately, Washington didn’t require that from both parties—or showing up for the legal stuff that had gone along with our parting. When he’d briefly returned a year ago, I’d lost my temper and thrown him—and all his belongings—out of the apartment and changed the locks. That had been because, among other things, I’d caught him posting photos on an account he didn’t think I knew about, showing him in tropical places with drinks in hand and bikini-clad women balanced in his lap. That account and those photos had dated back to well before our divorce.

“Asshole,” I grumbled as I padded along the familiar lit walkways of the complex, nodding at tenants strolling the grounds with their dogs.

Though I was happy to curse Chad’s memory and hope that he had developed debilitating crotch rot, I blamed myself for not twigging to what a jerk he was sooner. For all I knew, his supposed traveling software sales job had been a farce from the beginning. I wasn’t that sure where he’d gotten the money that he had contributed, however sporadically, to our household finances over the years.

I should have dug deeper into his fishy stories earlier, but I’d been reluctant to rock the boat. The boys had loved him. They probably still did.

When I reached the last apartment in a building in the back of the complex, I pulled out an envelope labeled DRUGSTORE that I’d grabbed from my purse. The monthly allotment of cash inside was for buying things like shampoo, toothpaste, hair dye, and… werewolf-sublimation potions.

Ready to pay, I knocked three times and then two times. Beatrice, a retired nurse and hobbyist alchemist with ties to the Seattle witch community, paid her rent in lump sums six months in advance and didn’t care to be disturbed. But she was usually home and always answered the door for clients who knew how to knock properly.

Or so I thought. The windows were dark, and I didn’t get an answer.

Where might my retired witch have gone after dark? It was hard to imagine quirky Beatrice playing bridge or pickleball at the senior center.

I knocked again, my earlier anxiety returning, the fear I’d felt in the bathroom after realizing I didn’t have more doses. The night sky drew my eye, the cloud cover thin enough to make out the silvery glow of the moon through it. A moon that would be, as I’d noted earlier, full soon. If I didn’t have another dose before then, would I change? For the first time in decades?

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I tried to tell myself.

Before I’d turned twenty, I’d changed frequently, going hunting with the pack, reveling in the chase, enjoying the flesh of a fresh kill. I’d loved being a wolf and welcomed the magic that sang in my blood .

Heat flushed me at the memories that washed over me, not only of those hunts but of how glorious it had been to be what I’d been born to be. Magical. Strong. Proud. Fearsome. It had been joyous.

Until the werewolf that I’d loved had died. Until I’d killed him.

My hand shook as I raised it to knock again, desperation making the thumps hard. But Beatrice wasn’t home. There wasn’t any point in continuing to knock.

My hand lowered to the knob, and temptation arose. I could check to see if she’d left the door open. Even if she hadn’t, I had the master key for all the apartments. I could go in, find her stash of potions, and leave the cash payment, the same amount I’d been paying her these past ten years.

It wasn’t breaking and entering when you were the property manager and had a key, right?

I snorted, knowing better. And yet…

I tried the knob. It wasn’t locked.

As I hesitated, torn between needing that potion and not wanting to abuse the trust my tenants and employers put in me, I sensed something. Was someone watching me?

I glanced around, my eyes probing the shadows between the lamps that brightened the walkways. Nobody was in sight, neither near the building nor on the manicured grounds surrounding it, but I eyed the woods that edged the property. Might Duncan be out there? Watching me like a stalker?

No movement in the woods drew my eye, but the trees grew close together, the evergreens blocking the meager light that the cloud-hazed moon offered. In the distance, cars roared on the freeway, but their headlamps didn’t penetrate the greenbelt. There could have been an army skulking in there, and I wouldn’t have known, not now.

Had my senses not been dulled, I would have heard and smelled much more .

That familiar mixture of longing for the past and fear for it held me in thrall.

“The hell with it.” I pushed open the door. “It’s not my fault that you didn’t put a personal phone number on the application, Beatrice.”

Grumbling to myself, I found the light switch by the door and flipped it on. I halted before I’d gone more than a step.

The living room was empty, save for a few tufts of lint, scraps of paper, vial caps, and a pen in a corner. The bedroom carpets held the indentions where furniture had been.

“She moved ?”

Without telling me? I would have to check, but I believed her rent had been paid through the end of the year. She should have come by to let me know she was leaving and drop off the keys. Unless…

I frowned. She was an older woman. What if she’d passed, and some family member had collected her stuff and not gotten around to turning in the keys yet?

I pushed my ponytail aside to rub the back of my neck. Since I lived in the complex, it was hard to believe I’d missed movers coming to collect everything. She’d not only had tons of furniture but all manner of jars and bottles and containers of alchemical components. The scents of some of her quirky ingredients lingered in the air: dried leaves, exotic spices, pungent concoctions, and whatever had left that odd orange stain on the wall over there…

Still, people moved in and out of the large complex every month. It was possible a U-Haul for this apartment had been here at the same time as for someone else’s, and I hadn’t thought anything of another van.

“I hope she’s okay.”

I tried not to feel selfish about immediately wondering who else could make my potion. Beatrice had been doing it for more than ten years, since my last alchemist had moved to New Mexico for the sun, dry air, and desert juju, or whatever she’d called it. I hadn’t heard from her in years.

My senses twanged, and I spun toward the front door. I’d left it open, and I didn’t hear anything nearby, but my instincts warned me…

Duncan leaned into view and waved. “Hullo, oh nameless overseer of this great hive of humanity.”

“We call it an apartment complex, and my new… intern gave you my name.” I hesitated to admit the kid held that position. Shouldn’t there have been a memo?

“Yes, but you didn’t invite me to use it, despite my charm and the fact that you surely appreciated my assistance with your parking-lot problem.” Duncan waggled his eyebrows, then noticed the envelope I clutched and quirked his brows.

I stuck it in my pocket, never caring to explain that I had to carefully budget to keep myself out of financial trouble. “You’ve crossed the line onto private property again. And your van is still in the guest parking, even though you’re a nomadic scavenger, not someone a tenant invited.”

“The warmth of your appreciation keeps away the chill on this autumn night.”

I sighed at him. “What do you want?”

Duncan looked around the empty apartment, gaze lingering on a cork in the corner of the living room.

“We don’t have any vacancies,” I told him, “in case that’s what you’re thinking.”

That wasn’t entirely true, as we had a couple of tenants moving out that week, but I didn’t want him sticking around.

“It’s not. I am quite comfortable in my mobile domicile.” Duncan pointed toward the parking lot.

“You live out of your van? Imagine my surprise. ”

He grinned at me. “I came to see if you or any of your residents were missing keys.”

“We have a lost-and-found. Did you stumble across a set of keys in the parking lot while you were tearing bits off those motorcycles?” I eyed him, still wondering how he’d managed that, then walked outside and held out my hand.

“I found some on my excursion.” Duncan nodded toward the woods, then fished numerous sets of key rings out of his pocket, most rusty, all covered with dirt.

That didn’t keep him from laying them in my hands, as if certain I would want them. He deposited key ring after key ring, two padlocks, and, finally, an old bike lock reminiscent of a rope of sausage. He draped that over my arm.

“That looks like it was lost in 1973,” I said.

Most of the stuff did. Whoever had dropped the keys must have long since replaced them.

“Possibly. There’s not a lot of really old metallic stuff in this part of the country, though I do occasionally find some gems among the detritus.” Duncan switched to an inside pocket in his leather jacket to withdraw a grimy quarter. “Look at this lovely. It was with some other coins in an old change purse I dug up. It’s from 1959. Any US dimes or quarters from before 1965 are ninety percent silver.”

“Does that mean it’s worth a lot?”

“It’s worth… something.” Duncan smiled lopsidedly and placed it in my now-dirty hands with the rest of the junk. “If memory serves, there’s a little under point-two troy ounces of silver in your old quarters.”

“Meaning I might be able to buy a soda at McDonald’s with this?”

“Maybe a soda and fries.”

“You sure you don’t want to keep it?” I asked. “It’ll cost you a couple hundred to get your van out of impound after I have it towed.”

His eyebrows twitched, and he glanced toward my left hand. Noting the lack of a wedding ring?

I scowled at him. “My snark is not the reason I’m divorced, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Duncan lifted his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Uh-huh. Why are you lurking around here, and what do you really want?” I pushed the junk in my hands toward him, signaling that he could return it, and the uber valuable quarter, to his pockets.

“I’ve mostly achieved my goal for the day.” He nodded toward the greenbelt. “It wasn’t as lucrative as I’d hoped. Sometimes, the areas like that by the freeway can have all manner of valuable scrap and even personal goods that flew off into the woods after wrecks or because someone chucked something out the window during a police chase.”

Why didn’t I believe him?

Because he was a shifty werewolf who smiled too much. Who’d ever heard of a lupine treasure hunter?

He took back the keys and bike lock, not appearing offended by my rejection. “I’d love to tell you all about it over dinner. May I take you out somewhere?”

“No.”

“Many women have found it fascinating to hear me regale them over a meal. Did I mention that I also magnet-fish?”

“No.”

“I’m an expert in locating all manner of things, mundane and even magical.”

I opened my mouth to deliver the third and, I hoped, final no but halted as a thought struck me.

If he could find magical things, might he be dialed into the paranormal world? More so than I was? Aside from taking my potions faithfully, I’d spent my entire adult life trying to pretend such things didn’t exist. Trying to pass as a normal human woman. Might he know about other alchemists in the area?

“Where do you sell the magical items that you find?” I asked.

I doubted an alchemist would want rusty gewgaws, but if Duncan knew the paranormal equivalent of a pawn-shop owner, maybe that person would know where potions could be bought and sold.

“Oh, all manner of places. The underground markets, direct to a handful of dealers I know around this and other countries, and even on eBay, though the fees and hecklers make online auction sites tedious to deal with. And the reviews . By the heavens, if you don’t properly insulate and promptly ship your imbued charms and talismans, buyers will pounce on you like WWF wrestlers springing from the ropes.”

I scratched my cheek, half-wondering if I could find a potion dealer on eBay. Or might there be some reputable online alchemist I could locate on my own? Maybe, but the idea of ingesting something magical made by a stranger from halfway across the country was unappealing. It wasn’t as if the FDA tested and vetted potions.

“Are you in the market for something? I know now that keys and bike locks don’t interest you.” Duncan smirked. “Strange lady.”

“Yeah, I’m the strange one here.”

“Exceedingly. But I’m still willing to take you to dinner. After all, I crave high-stakes adventure.”

“Like dating women who think you’re a toad?”

“And who repeatedly threaten to have my vehicle towed, yes. I didn’t say it was a healthy craving.”

“Few are. Do you know anyone who makes potions?” I decided to be blunt.

I didn’t need to reveal what kind of potion I needed or what I would use it for. That was a secret I held dear. My kids didn’t even know. Only my ex-husband did, and I would have gladly kept it from him, but he’d met me before I’d found a substance to help my… condition. He hadn’t been supportive of me taking it— he assumed that being a werewolf was amazing and had been into me because of my lupine attributes. Maybe that should have told me long ago that he wasn’t a great catch.

“ Real potions?” I added, since there were all manner of fake witches and mystics in the greater Seattle area who cheerfully sold crap.

“Ah.” Duncan tapped his chin thoughtfully and gazed around the grounds.

A fog was rolling in from the woods, and dew droplets had formed on the grass. “I’ve met numerous alchemists in my journeys. I’ve not been in this particular area long enough to have made such contacts, but perhaps I could reach out to Stanislaw in the bayous of Louisiana. Oh, or Betsy in Pitlochry. She has a huge database of contacts in the field, and she owes me a favor for finding ingredients for her. Plus, she thinks I’m a sexy beast, so she’s always eager to assist me.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Come to dinner with me, and I’ll make some calls.” Duncan smiled easily, but there was an intensity in his eyes that didn’t match his affable manner.

Yeah, he wanted something.

“What’s your favorite food? Salmon? A rare steak? Some appealingly roasted haunch of meat?”

If I’d had any doubts that he knew about my heritage, the questions would have set them aside.

“I like teriyaki. It’s affordable.” To some extent. I usually cooked at home, which was even more affordable, but I hadn’t broken into my entertainment budget yet for the month. I’d been too busy to be entertained .

“Ah, a flavored haunch of meat. Cubed up and threaded on skewers before grilling. I would not object to such fare.”

“That’s good since you offered to pay.” I closed the door to the empty apartment, making a mental note to dig into the records and see what contact information I had for Beatrice. I’d made sure she put some phone number in the field and believed she’d said it had belonged to a relative.

“Indeed I did. Allow me to escort you to my van.”

“Pass.” I brushed past him to lead the way to the front of the complex. There was no way I would get in that van with him. For all I knew, it was filled with iron shackles, torture devices, and guns loaded with silver bullets. “I’m not carpooling with a stranger. I’ll meet you there.”

“Are you sure? I’d love to show you my giant magnet.”

“Save it for Betsy. I’ll meet you at the teriyaki place on Bothell Way.” I didn’t intend to invite him into my car any more than I was willing to get into his. Besides, if he had to drive his own van, it would leave our parking lot. Hopefully permanently. “I’ve done a few repairs for them, so they always give me big portions.”

“Excellent. I like a hearty meal. I have a feeling you do too.”

Yes, unfortunately. The potion dulled many of my werewolf attributes, but I paid for being stronger than normal by having a fast metabolism.

When we reached the parking lot, I realized I didn’t have my purse and keys. “I need to grab a couple of things.” I waved toward my apartment. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

“Yes, my lady.” Duncan bowed before opening the door to his van.

When he slid it open, I glanced inside before leaving. I didn’t see guns or shackles, but there was a wall of racks that held SCUBA gear and other equipment I couldn’t name. The Roadtrek had definitely been modified from its original camper-van layout and duty .

“Bothell Way,” he called. “That runs along Lake Washington, doesn’t it?”

“Through part of Kenmore, it’s close to the water, yeah.”

“I’ve never magnet fished in Lake Washington. Are there lots of docks? It could prove fruitful.”

“I don’t know, man. Just don’t forget to reach out to your alchemist contacts.” I shook my head, afraid I was, at best, wasting my time. At worst, this guy could turn into a kidnapper or murderer and kill me.

As I unlocked the door to my apartment, a howl sounded, rising above the distant roar of freeway traffic. A wolf.

I looked back toward the van, but Duncan was driving out of the parking lot in human form. That hadn’t been him.