Page 5

As Abrams and Radomir drove away in their tank-SUV, and the Sylvans stepped into their own car, I bent forward on the walkway, gripping my knees. I wanted to throw up.

“He may have been lying,” came Duncan’s voice as he walked up, appearing from behind whatever bush or lamppost had hidden him while he listened.

I couldn’t blame him for eavesdropping. It had been his fate Abrams had been talking about.

“Did your spying reveal something that would suggest that?” I asked hopefully, straightening and facing him.

“No. They were in your employer’s presence most of the time that I was listening.

” Duncan pointed to the rooftop where he’d perched.

“Only once did they speak of anything besides their fictitious plans to acquire this compound. Abrams asked Radomir if he could detect it here. I assume he referred to the wolf case—specifically, the artifact within it. They likely know I have the male version of the Medallion of Memory and Power and that you returned the female version to your mother, so they wouldn’t be seeking those here. ”

“Yeah.” Not worried about the artifacts at the moment, I studied Duncan’s face, trying to decide if he appeared concerned about his life force withering. Did he believe what Abrams had said?

I couldn’t tell. He didn’t seem to be masking his features. His expression was calm, as if we were discussing the weather. Or, I supposed, artifacts.

“How’s your life force?” I asked.

My voice almost cracked on the term. That worry and guilt hadn’t left. If anything, having Duncan in front of me made the feelings stronger, and my throat grew tight.

He turned his palm toward the sky. “I feel hale.”

“You seemed hale in the dojo when you were flattening me to the wall.”

“You say that as if you didn’t enjoy the flattening.”

My cheeks heated. I had enjoyed it. And he knew it.

“It was a good way to assess your health,” I said. “Your life force.”

“Is that what you were doing when you slid your tongue into my mouth?”

“Yeah, it’s called probing. Medical professionals do it all the time.”

“Usually with less evocative instruments.”

“ Duncan ,” I said, my emotions bubbling over. “I’m sorry I destroyed that thing. All I ever wanted to do was steal it so they couldn’t use it to control you anymore.”

“That was your plan from the beginning? When you wanted to follow me up there?”

I hadn’t mentioned that goal to him, worried he would stop me because he believed it too dangerous.

Now, I wished I had asked him about the control device.

He might have known he was linked to it, that destroying it could kill him.

At least according to Abrams. Thus far, Duncan seemed skeptical about that.

“It was,” I said. “I should have told you.”

“I thought it might be something like that. You wanted to help me. I can’t be upset about that.”

“Yes, you can. I didn’t intend this. It was a mistake. Like I said, I only wanted to take that device—there’s nothing wrong with thieving from thieves, right?”

“It does seem fair.” Duncan smiled and stepped forward to hug me.

It was a gentle embrace, almost as if he needed support as much as I did. This time, there was no probing on either of our parts. I leaned my face against his shoulder, and he stroked the back of my head.

For a while, we stood like that, the birds chirping cheerfully, the freeway traffic audible but muted through the trees. In the street, the police car left as another arrived to take its spot.

“Change of shift,” I murmured.

A parcel-delivery van rolled into the lot. Assuming it was bringing something for a tenant, I didn’t think anything of it until the driver stepped out with a cardboard overnight-delivery envelope and headed toward the Roadtrek.

Duncan sighed as the guy tucked it under a windshield wiper and marked the task as complete on his electronic device. It wasn’t the first time something had been delivered to Duncan’s van. Last time, it had been poisoned chocolate.

“Do you want to see what that is?” I asked.

“No.” Duncan also had to be thinking about the poisoned chocolate.

But my cousin who’d masterminded that plot was dead. This had to be something else.

Despite his no , Duncan released me and headed to the van. I went with him, afraid this had to do with Radomir and Abrams.

As the delivery vehicle drove away, Duncan opened the envelope and withdrew a single piece of paper with a letter typed on it. He let me read it over his arm.

Mr. Calderwood,

Your lady acquaintance has done us no favors by destroying the device that was linked to you.

Lord Abrams has informed me that it is—that it was —bound to your life and that you’ll soon die.

Since you’ve proven useful, though you were recalcitrant at times and failed to bring the correct medallion to me, I do not wish that fate for you.

We might yet work together for the betterment not only of the werewolf species but of mankind as a whole.

As my own mortality makes itself known, my so-called golden years drawing nearer, I seek to leave a legacy, to help people.

“Bullshit.” I hadn’t finished reading the letter, but I’d glanced down at the signature. It was Radomir. “That guy’s trying to make money, more money, or something else. He doesn’t care about mankind. And his thugs shot up my mom’s home—and my mom. No way does he care about werewolves.”

Duncan grunted in agreement and tilted the page so that I could more easily read the rest.

I’ve asked Lord Abrams if, with all the knowledge he’s accumulated over the years, he’s aware of something that might prevent a deadly fate for you. You deserve better. I’m most perturbed with your lady acquaintance.

“Like I give a shit,” I muttered but kept reading.

Abrams is not certain there is a solution but believes that, given enough powerful artifacts to work with, a crafter might be found who could make something capable of healing the broken link and saving your life.

I’ll use my connections to seek out such a person.

In the meantime, I need you to bring to me the two wolf-head medallions and the wolf-lidded case with its special tool inside.

These artifacts, we believe, may have the power we need, power that could be siphoned into a new artifact, one capable of saving your life.

Do not take too long to bring them to me.

I understand that once your life force is sufficiently withered, the effects are more difficult to reverse, that we will not be able to halt your demise

Sincerely,

~ Ivan Radomir

“What a liar. Both of them.” I shook my head and leaned back. “Like those three specific artifacts that they’ve been trying to find or steal would happen to be the ones that could help you.”

Duncan, jaw set as he continued to gaze down at the letter, didn’t answer. His eyes weren’t moving, so he’d stopped reading.

“There’s no way that’s anything but bullshit.” I watched his face. “Right?”

He folded the letter and returned it to the envelope. “I agree that it’s unlikely.”

“If I thought they would do what he said…”

I swallowed. What? I would hand them over to Radomir?

I could give up the wolf case—that wasn’t mine, nor did I know who the true owner was.

Someone long dead, probably. But the medallions?

Those belonged to the pack, not me. I supposed if Duncan’s life truly depended on it, I would ask for Mom’s medallion—or take it—but I didn’t trust Radomir.

“If you’re really dying, I’d do anything to help you,” I said, “but this has to be a set-up, don’t you think? We can’t trust these guys.”

“No.” Duncan managed a smile for me. “You’d do anything to save my life? I’m touched.”

“Of course. You’re…”

He raised his eyebrows. “Appealingly charismatic and desirable?”

“You know that. You’re also… I like you.” Not exactly a confession of love, but my emotions were all tangled up. After being betrayed by my ex, my natural inclination was to be private, not to voice words that could be turned against me.

“I like you as well.” Once more, Duncan drew me into a hug, resting his cheek against my hair. “We should cruise around town and try to find the thugs who stole your sword. Now that you’re a master, you should be wielding it instead of dented wood.”

“I’m a master after six lessons?”

“You’re doing well.”

“I do want to find it, but that can’t be the most important thing on your mind right now.”

I recalled my vow to quaff that awful-tasting potion, the Elixir of Locus that Rue had made.

I had only asked her for one attuned to Duncan, but she’d taken a blood sample from one of the thugs who’d attacked us in the parking lot and made a second one.

We’d thought he might be from the same gang as those who’d robbed my apartment to steal the sword.

If I could stomach chugging the loathsome potion, and I was within ten miles of him, it ought to lead me to him.

It was the ten-mile radius as well as the horrible taste that had made me hesitate to take it right away.

“I would like to see it back in your hand,” Duncan said, “before… before long.”

That hesitation made me lean back and look into his eyes. “Before you die ? You said you thought Abrams might be lying about all that and that your life force feels fine.”

“Oh, yes. It’s quite lovely. And I believe it is quite possible that they’re lying to manipulate us.” Duncan smiled easily, and I couldn’t tell if he was prevaricating or not.

What if he simply didn’t want me to worry? Might he believe that Abrams had been telling the truth?

“My life, however, has been somewhat dangerous of late,” Duncan said. “In truth, I’ve always been known to take a risk or two in my pursuit of adventure and treasure.”

“You did mention swimming with killer whales that wear salmon hats.”

“I did, though that wasn’t the riskiest thing I’ve done, not by far. The whale was quite amiable.”

“As sea life showing off the latest fashions so often are.”

“Indeed. Since, however, I do take those risks… Well, just in case, I’d like to see the sword back in your hands before my passing.”

Glum, I continued to gaze at him. The barbells of certainty thumped down on my shoulders. He did believe he would die. And not in some vague years-off future but soon. Because of the device I’d destroyed.

Tears welled in my eyes. I looked away so he wouldn’t see them. “Duncan…”

The door to the police car thumped shut, and he didn’t respond.

Officer Dubois had been in the replacement vehicle, and she jogged toward us, a partner I hadn’t met before remaining in the passenger seat.

She’d lost her last partner in the parking lot the night Duncan and I had turned into wolves to defend the property from thugs.

Dubois had seen me shift, but she hadn’t brought it up, other than to say she owed me.

I wouldn’t assume there were no stipulations on her secrecy, but seeing her didn’t make me wince and want to run in the other direction anymore.

Her pace remaining brisk, she headed straight toward us. “We’ve had a report of a robbery and need to leave to offer backup over at Rocket Coffee.”

“Uh-oh. That’s my intern’s favorite spot.”

“Big guys on motorcycles is what I heard.” Dubois looked grimly at me. “Your place won’t be covered until we return. I wanted to warn you.”

“Let me know if you see any familiar brutish faces over there.” I lifted a hand since she was already turning to jog back to her car. I hadn’t expected the police to provide 24-7 coverage of Sylvan Serenity anyway.

“You miss them?” Dubois called over her shoulder.

“Like a rash on my ass, yeah.”

She waved an acknowledgment, then slid back into her car and took off.

“If it is the same guys,” I told Duncan, who was watching me curiously, “including the one Rue’s potion is linked to, I could take it, and we could follow them to their hideout.”

I had no idea if they had a hideout. Maybe the thugs all had their own apartments. Even if that was the case, the one we’d gotten the blood sample from might know where his buddies had stashed the sword.

“We could go to the coffee shop, turn into wolves, and trail them to their hideout the old-fashioned way.” Duncan tapped his nose.

“As I recall, you tried that before and were stymied when they got into a getaway car and drove away.”

“I wasn’t stymied. I lost the scent.”

“Thus stymying you.” I didn’t blame him. I would have had even more trouble following their trail through the city.

“It’s impossible to track an automobile far.”

“Unless a potion that burns your esophagus like a hell-born inferno magically guides you in the right direction.”

“I’ve not had that experience, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“You can drink the next potion if you want to endure it yourself.”

“To retrieve the sword, I would.”

I waved away his offer. As awful as the potion was, I wouldn’t wish the side effects on anyone else. “I’ll do it.”

And I would. I owed it to him to find the sword he’d given me. But I was a lot more worried about Duncan’s life force and what Radomir and Abrams were up to with their offer on Sylvan Serenity.