Page 26

Hell, he might sense them here if he walked past my truck. That thought sent me trotting up to the inspector, hoping to keep him from nearing my vehicle. Now I wished there hadn’t been an open parking spot so close to the reserved staff area.

“Hi,” I said when he paused, his eyebrows raised.

With the ladder under his arm, he looked like he wanted to hurry straight to his van.

“I’m Luna Valens, the property manager. The owners said I should see if you need help with anything.”

The owners hadn’t said anything of the sort, but when I glanced at Bolin, he didn’t object. As the son of the owners, he had to count as their proxy, right?

“Move the case out of my truck,” I tried to mouth to him.

Bolin squinted, not catching the words. Did he not sense that this guy had magical blood?

“I’ve about finished my inspection,” our visitor said. “Unless you’d like to tell me about any unusual aspects to the property that weren’t readily apparent.”

“There’s nothing unusual here.” I smiled at him.

“That’s not what the newspapers have suggested.” He shifted his weight, adjusting the ladder, and tried to step past me.

Though I couldn’t blame him for wanting to put away the awkward load, I blocked him and lifted a hand.

“What kind of unusual aspects did you expect to find? Anything I should keep an eye out for? Anything we’ll need to address before the sale?

” I slid my phone out to text Duncan as I tilted my chin toward the closest building.

“It hasn’t been long since I cleaned the roofs and the gutters, but the water from the downspouts does tend to pool around the foundations during a heavy rain.

I was thinking of getting some extenders. ”

The inspector followed my gaze, but he seemed to be looking at the bushes and hedges along the walkways and near the walls of the buildings. Wondering if I’d buried the artifacts out here?

Will you move the case out of the truck when this guy isn’t looking? I sent the text to Duncan and wished he’d stayed in the truck, napping.

“I was going to mention that in my report,” the inspector said absently, then eyed me.

Could he tell I was a werewolf? And did he look a little nervous? Maybe. He didn’t try to pass me again, but he shifted his grip on the ladder, like he might club me with it.

Instead, he looked toward the woods, and relief spilled out of him. “There’s my assistant.”

A shaggy man with a metal detector walked out of the woods, shaking his head. He was lean, almost gangly, but also had a paranormal vibe, a stronger one that I could sense from a greater distance.

I almost gaped, realizing it was a feral paranormal vibe. He was a werewolf. Not one I recognized, but there were lone wolves in the city, men and women who avoided the Savagers and the other packs to the south of Seattle.

“Your assistant was… inspecting the woods?” I scratched my jaw, looking around for Duncan. Had he gotten my text? Now that I needed him, I didn’t see him anywhere. By the moon, I hoped he hadn’t passed out behind a bush somewhere. “The property ends with the lawn there.”

“Those woods have been interesting to a lot of parties,” Bolin said quietly.

“Only duplicitous parties with nefarious intent,” I muttered.

“Didn’t we originally meet Duncan sniffing around back there?”

“I stand by my statement.”

The inspector straightened, appearing bolstered by the approach of his ally. He took a step around me, and I shifted, wanting to block him again. I groped for something to ask to distract him.

His head snapped up, his eyes focusing not on me but on my truck. Damn it. He’d sensed the artifact.

“Do you—” I started.

He swung the ladder at me.

I saw it coming and caught it, my strength a match for his, but his buddy charged across the lawn toward us.

My skin flushed, nerves sending pricks of magic through my body, the change attempting to take me.

But cars were driving by in the street, and a tenant might pull into the parking lot at any moment.

I fought down the magic, not wanting any more witnesses to see me change.

Too many people already knew what I could become.

“Look out, Luna.” Bolin stepped back and delved into his man purse for who knew what.

His warning was about the approaching werewolf, but the inspector lowered the ladder and threw a punch at me.

Ducking it, I yanked the ladder away from him.

I backed up and swung, trying to hit him with it at the same time as I chucked it onto the lawn.

It clipped his arm, and he stumbled back, then scrambled farther away.

Bolin threw something into the grass at the werewolf’s feet. Green smoke wafted up. The guy, eyes savage even though he hadn’t shifted forms yet, leaped through it and rushed at me.

The inspector was circling behind the bushes, trying to reach the parking lot from another direction. He wanted to get around me, not fight me.

“Keep him away from my truck,” I barked at Bolin, crouching to deal with the werewolf. He sprang over the ladder and reached for me.

As I dodged his grasp, I again struggled to keep my wolf from rising. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a powerful weapon to use in my human form.

“Really need to find that sword.” After avoiding the man’s grasping hands, I sprang upon the ladder and hefted it.

I spun with it in my grip. The werewolf turned to rush me again.

I slammed the ladder into his side with more than typical human strength, but it didn’t faze him.

He dove, trying to tackle me to the ground.

I dodged to the side and kicked. He was fast and might have caught me, but my foot dove into his stomach.

He grunted and pitched forward. I kicked him again, heel slamming into his hip.

It unbalanced him enough that he dropped to his knees.

I leaped onto his back, hoping to pin him.

A grunt came from the parking lot, then the thump of something hitting the side of my truck.

“Get out of the way, you stupid kid. I— What the hell is that?”

The man under my knees heaved upright, letting out a snarl that was more animal than human. He had to be on the verge of changing himself.

Unbalanced, I pitched to the side, but I kicked out as I hit the grass, hoping to keep him from springing upon me. He spun toward me, grasping, but my heel clipped him in the jaw. His head snapped back. Thrusting up from the ground, I kicked again and connected solidly. He tumbled to the side.

I rolled over and leaped after him, punching him twice before he could recover. The blows made my knuckles smart, but magic and irritation gave me the strength to ignore the pain. Again, I pinned the guy, this time wrapping my hands around his throat to convince him to stay down.

“Get off my property, or I’ll break your neck.” I squeezed while voicing the threat, hoping he recognized what I was and understood that I could kill him.

When he stilled, taking me seriously, I risked glancing toward the parking lot.

Bolin’s man purse swung through the air on its strap, the bag clubbing the inspector in the head. The man was backed up against my truck, a green vine wrapped around his ankle. It extended out of the pavement between the tires.

“There’s a feature I didn’t know my truck had,” I muttered.

“Quit hitting me, kid.” The inspector managed to snatch the bag and stop it from landing again.

He yanked a multitool from a belt holder and flicked open a knife, then used the blade to cut the strap on Bolin’s bag. He crouched down to hack at the vine, trying to get it to release his ankle.

“That’s a Stefano Ricci,” Bolin yelled, then clubbed the guy several more times, both with his fist and the bag. “You don’t cut the leather.”

Enduring the blows, the inspector focused on the vine until he sawed through it and could jump upright again. He grabbed Bolin and lifted the knife. Shit.

I released the werewolf and ran over to help my intern.

A surge of power came from Bolin, flaring like a sun to my senses, and he leaped back quickly enough to avoid the knife swipe.

At the same time, another vine snaked out from under the truck.

It rose into the air and swatted the inspector’s hand with a hard smack.

He dropped the multitool and saw me coming.

Cursing, he ran around the back of the truck and sprinted to his van.

The werewolf, red marks around his neck, glanced at me, then also rushed to the van.

“Did they get into my truck?” I crouched, planning to charge after them if they had, but the doors were shut, the locks engaged.

“My bag!” Bolin held it up, waving it to emphasize the severed strap.

A familiar hatchback rolled down our lane of the parking lot, and he jerked it down, not complaining further. That was Jasmine’s car.

Even as she headed toward us, the van drove straight toward her.

I sprinted after it, but what could I do to stop a van? Even as a werewolf, I didn’t have the strength to halt a two-ton automobile.

Jasmine saw the threat and swerved to the side, but there wasn’t enough room for her car to squeeze past the van. It would hit her before I reached it.

Scant feet ahead of me, a vine sprouted from the pavement. As thick as my wrist, it shot out and wrapped around the van’s back fender. The vehicle halted, tires squealing as it tried and failed to continue forward. The engine revved, the driver glancing in a side mirror.

Behind me, Bolin had stepped into the lane and stood, fists clenched, his face full of concentration. The vine stretched but didn’t snap, didn’t give in the least.

Jasmine had time to back her hatchback out of the lane and into another, one well out of the van’s path. Sweat rolled down the side of Bolin’s face.

I started toward the driver’s side of the van, intending to yank the inspector out, but the vine released abruptly. It disappeared into the pavement as fast as it had appeared.

Released from its druidic imprisonment, the van rolled over a curb, thunked down, then zipped away. It peeled out of the parking lot with impressive speed, leaving the scent of burning rubber in the air.

Window rolling down, the inspector stuck his arm out the window as he drove away, aiming a middle finger back in my direction. As if the situation were all my fault. I wasn’t the thief here.

“I can’t believe I told that ass about the downspout overflow problem,” I muttered.