Page 16 of Kin of the Wolf (Magnetic Magic #3)

16

I didn’t wear the gas mask to clean, but I did leave all the doors and windows open as I scrubbed and sprayed. Smells of pets—and pet scat—were almost as difficult to get rid of as cigarette smoke, but at least the apartment didn’t have any carpet. In most of the units, I’d long ago replaced that with durable vinyl floor planks. Despite Duncan’s complaint about how they chilled his wolf flanks, they resisted stains and didn’t trap odors. In my world, that made them practical.

Jasmine had watched me work for ten minutes before noting that my job wasn’t that glamorous for a werewolf and losing interest. Before leaving, she’d polished off Bolin’s coffee, proving they had similar tastes, preferring a dreadful amount of sugar in their espresso drinks. Maybe, if he plied her with mochas, she would look twice at him. Thus far, I hadn’t seen any of the prospective tenants he’d attempted to flirt with return his interest. I wasn’t sure they’d known he was flirting, especially when he’d started talking about spelling bees and word origins.

During a break, I wiped sweat from my brow and dialed the number that Rue had left when she’d sent in an application for an apartment.

“Greetings, wayward werewolf,” she answered on the second ring. “I’ve been hoping you would call. I grow weary of dealing with the—” she raised her voice, “—miscreant shits-for-brains that keep defiling my door.”

“Are they… there now?” I imagined her leaning into the hallway for that last.

“There is fresh graffiti, and the grandma who waves her holy book at me just walked past. She is not holy.”

“Those who leave menacing messages on people’s doors rarely are.” I grabbed a soapy rag to rub at suspicious marks on the trim but had already accepted that I would have to paint. The marks were barely noticeable next to all the nail holes, gouges, dents, and scrapes.

“ Exactly. I told the landlord, and he blames me.”

“Strange.”

“Quite.”

“Well, I called to let you know we have a vacated unit. I’m cleaning it now.”

“That will be acceptable. I mind my own business and do not bother anyone. Unless one counts the misty vapors that filled the hallway recently and made those who passed through it itchy. They should be thankful. The vapor formula has a much more potent version.”

I paused in my cleaning to eye the phone, starting to have second thoughts about offering Rue an apartment. Originally, I’d been thinking it would be handy to have a potion supplier nearby again, but I hadn’t been taking the sublimation concoction lately. Did I actually need an alchemist? Maybe I should have talked to her landlord before offering her a unit.

“We don’t have hallways here,” was all I said. “The units have exterior doors. ”

“That is fine. In fact, that is preferable. When can I move in? I have four grandsons and two granddaughters that I can put to work packing.”

“Lucky them.”

“In my culture, it is an honor to serve your elders.”

I had a feeling her neighbors would all chip in to see her leave too, but I didn’t voice the thought. Silently, I told myself that having her nearby would be handy. Besides, she couldn’t be any worse than the switch-plate thieves with their poorly trained cats.

“The apartment will be ready in four days.” Normally, I would have said two, but painting took some time, and I had to allow for relatives interrupting my work with their efforts to kill me.

“I will be ready to move before the weekend. Goodbye.”

After lowering the phone, I rotated stiff joints and thought longingly of my bed. That morning, by the time things had settled, I’d been too awake to go to sleep. I had dozed in the chair in the leasing office during the lunch hour until a tenant had come by to report a leaky showerhead. She’d caught me with my shoes on the desk, my head dangling over the arm rest, and drool at the corner of my mouth. But I’d had extra cartridges for the showers in the office and had done the repair on the spot, so she shouldn’t have had a reason to complain. With the threat of the Sylvans selling the place looming, I didn’t want to do anything that would give them an extra reason to want to bail on the property.

Beeping sounds floated in from the parking lot. That was probably the truck I’d ordered to pick up the furniture the Donovans had left behind. When I stepped outside, I found darkness creeping over the city once again, the encroaching night almost hiding a naked man jogging through the parking lot.

“Duncan,” I blurted, sensing him before my eyes could identify him with certainty. Not that anyone else was likely to run naked through the parking lot while a big junk-hauling truck backed into a spot up front .

I wanted to run over and check on him—had he walked all the way back to Shoreline? I wished I’d known where he’d ended up. I could have picked him up.

But the junk guys were climbing out of their truck, so I first stopped to direct them. By the time I reached Duncan’s van, he’d put on clothes, so I couldn’t tell if he’d been injured.

“Are you okay?” I leaned through the open sliding door. “I have your other clothes in my truck.”

“Are you keeping them hostage or is that a suggestion that I should retrieve them?” He was sitting on the bed, tying his shoes.

“The latter. I don’t want them, unless you think I should keep them to use as dust rags.”

“There was a Brioni sweater in the mix. Using it to dust would be egregious.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s cashmere.”

“I bet that picks up fine particles well.”

Duncan gave me an aggrieved look. “More appropriate would be if you kept everything tucked away in a drawer. Then, in the event of my death, you would have my clothing as mementos to cherish and look at any time you were pining for me.”

He scraped his fingers through his wavy hair to comb it, as if removing any reminder of the great wild creature he’d been the night before. No, not that wild. He’d been scarier than he was in his wolf form, but he’d changed to help me, and he’d known he was doing it in the midst of all that roaring and raking with claws.

“They’d be more useful as dust rags,” I said.

“You’re a sentimental sort, aren’t you?”

“As all werewolves are.”

When Duncan stood, ducking to keep his head from hitting the bicycle mounted horizontally from the ceiling, he didn’t appear to be favoring anything.

“You didn’t answer if you’re okay. My cousins sent you flying a few times, and then…” I held a hand out. Then I didn’t know what had happened. Since his disappearance, I’d been assuming his creator’s call had worked, summoning him back to the north.

“Their meager blows did little to affect me.”

“What happened after that?” By now, I was used to him being evasive with me, but I wanted to know if he’d been horribly mentally tortured. Or… My gaze drifted to the scar on his forehead. Or if they’d done something to increase their ability to control him and he was, even now, serving their wishes. I decided to move the case out of the glove box in my truck later.

“It’s a bit of a blur.” Duncan sat on the bed again and patted it to offer me a spot. “A call even stronger than that of the moon drew me away from you. It started during the fight, but I was able to tamp down its pull while you were in danger. But once it was clear we’d gotten the upper hand… I couldn’t resist anymore. I did try, but my body betrayed me. In that form, I seem particularly susceptible to magical compulsion. I kept trying to change to my wolf or human form, in case it would be easier to resist, but it wasn’t until I reached those lavender fields that I was able to pause. I heard howling—the boy. My younger self.”

I joined him in the van, but he looked out a window toward the north instead of at me.

“There was a warning in that howl,” he continued, “and then… I’m not sure what happened, but a number of armored cars left the compound. I think those with the magical device were in one of them. For a moment, its hold on me faltered. I was able to change into a wolf, and then the pull of other magic affected me, the call of the moon. I took off to hunt, that instinct overriding the control magic.” Duncan shrugged. “I’m not certain why the men departed at that moment, but I managed to leave the farm, satisfy the need to hunt, and return here. My paws—feet—are tired from all the miles I put on them though.”

When he looked at me, I tried to appear supportive, not worried or suspicious, but I couldn’t help but think it had been awfully easy for him to escape. Why, after he’d been compelled to travel twenty miles or more had the compulsion lessened? It was hard to believe a howling eight-year-old could have been responsible for anything. Duncan had said it had been a blur. Was it possible he hadn’t been able to stop when he reached the field? That he’d gone to his would-be masters, and Lord Abrams had done something to him? As I’d just been thinking? Even now, he could be theirs again.

“That was my day.” Duncan slapped his palms on his thighs. “How was yours? Less eventful? I trust you got away from your cousins without more trouble?”

“For now. The rest of the night and day was fine.” I yawned, reminded that I’d yet to sleep. “I cleaned out an apartment. Rue might be moving in this weekend.”

“She may be an interesting tenant.”

Movement outside a window drew my eye. The two young ghost hunters had come out and were setting up equipment between the parking lot and the greenbelt.

“They’re all interesting tenants these days.” I pointed out the window.

Duncan followed my gaze. “That looks like equipment for seeking out the paranormal. I wonder what they’re looking for.”

“Naked werewolves.”

“If that’s true, that meter should point toward this van.”

“Undoubtedly. Do you want me to tell them?”

Duncan started to answer but shifted to look at something else, a delivery car pulling into the lot. Leaving it running, the driver got out with a package in her arms. She started toward the walkway heading to the buildings but paused to consider something on the label. Then she looked around the parking lot until she spotted the Roadtrek and headed toward it.

“You’re getting mail here now?” I asked dryly, wondering if he’d ordered more clothing. We’d both had a number of accidental changes lately.

“I didn’t order anything. I didn’t know it was possible to have packages delivered to a van.”

The woman came closer, read Full Moon Fortune Hunter on the side of the Roadtrek, then knocked on the frame. She also noticed the open sliding door, her gaze drifting to the ceiling lamp that illuminated the interior, its yellowish-orange glow not quite the same as what one would get from a regular LED light.

“Greetings, my lady.” Duncan hopped out and bowed to her.

She took a step back, looking more alarmed by his old-fashioned greeting than pleased by it. “I think I have something for you. What’s your name?”

“Duncan Calderwood.”

“Here you go.” The delivery woman handed the package to him and headed back to her vehicle.

A piece of equipment in Duncan’s van beeped a few times. She glanced back, then shifted from a walk to a jog.

“The apartment complex may be getting a reputation,” I said sadly. “For quirk.”

Or was it possible the delivery lady was on edge for another reason?

“That happens when you have atypical tenants.” Box in one hand, Duncan waved toward the ghost hunters setting up their equipment.

“Yeah, they’re the atypical ones.”

He nodded and turned the box over, inspecting it from all sides.

“I don’t suppose this is a gift of dark chocolate from you?” he said.

“I don’t make enough money to afford a box of chocolate that large. Not of the superior quality brands that I like.”

“I trust you wouldn’t send me inferior quality. ”

“I wouldn’t, no. If I wanted to insult you, I’d find other ways.”

“Like using my sweaters for cleaning.”

“That’s just being practical. Dead werewolves don’t need cashmere.”

“Hm.” Duncan pulled off the tape and opened the box. “Are you sure you didn’t send this?”

I peered inside where a list of the contents rested among packing material nestled around a clear container of…

“Are those chocolates?” My nose caught the scent even before my eyes. Chocolates with… bacon ?

Duncan picked up the handwritten list, a chocolatier’s header on top, and read the listed contents aloud. “Chocolate-dipped bacon dusted with chopped pecans and flakes of sea salt.”

I stared in surprise. I had a similar recipe, and we’d discussed such treats before.

“I didn’t send them.” I looked in the direction the delivery lady had gone, but she’d already driven out of the parking lot.

“I believe you, of course, but I can’t imagine who else would have done so.”

“I know. We were alone in my apartment when we talked about chocolate-dipped bacon, weren’t we? It’s not like someone would have overheard us. Even if they had, who else would have wanted to send you a gift?”

“I do have some sex appeal and have received unsolicited gifts from women in the past.”

“Yeah, but you’re fifty now. That can’t happen that often.”

“Really.”

“Besides, who besides me would send you bacon and chocolate? That’s…”

“Quirky?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Delicious. But specific.” I took the paper from him and turned it over to read the ingredients.

Duncan lowered his nose to the box. “They smell fantastic. Very fresh. After running through the night and day, I admit to being hungry.”

“I wouldn’t eat them.”

“Because you’re not ravenous.”

“I’ve got your groceries in my fridge if you’re hungry.” I pointed to the label. “These were made with milk chocolate, not dark.”

“I doubt that would affect my appreciation of them.” He opened the lid.

“Yeah, but you know I didn’t send it. I prefer dark chocolate.” I held up a finger as he dug out a strip. “Someone who knows me and wanted you to think I sent these might not have been enough of a chocolate aficionado to know about or care about the difference.”

“What are you saying?”

I took the strip from his fingers. “That we should have our new alchemist friend test it for substances not listed in the ingredients.” I tossed it back into the box.

“You think it’s poisoned ?”

“I don’t know, but there are people who want you dead.” I told him about Jasmine’s visit and the warning she’d given.

Duncan looked mournfully into the box.

“It would be particularly loathsome to poison chocolate.” I typed the name of the chocolatier into my phone to look up the business. “Who would do something so vile?”

“I’d say the same kind of person who fantasizes about using an expensive cashmere sweater for dusting, but I know you didn’t do it.”

I didn’t get any results back from the search. Someone had made up the company name.

“You’re that certain I want to keep you alive, huh?” I showed Duncan the search results in case he and his empty stomach needed further convincing that the contents should be left alone .

“I trust that, one, you wouldn’t defile chocolate so, and, two, you adore me and would never wish me harm.”

“But especially one, right?”

“Quite.”

With palpable reluctance, Duncan closed the box. After considering it thoughtfully, he placed it on the passenger seat in the van.

“I believe I will visit Rue,” he said.

“She may press you into helping her pack.”

“It would be worth it to find out if these are poisoned.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “And who in the Seattle area might have purchased such a poison and from where.”

“I hope she has answers for you.”

“Do you want to come with me?”

“I’m tired. I need to go to sleep early tonight. And I definitely don’t want to help someone pack.”

“All right. I’ll keep you updated.”

As he drove off, I made a call.

“Hi, Luna,” Jasmine answered.

“Hey. Is there anyone in the family, anyone who’s on Augustus’s side about things, who likes to bake? Or specifically make candies and other desserts?”

It wasn’t a field that werewolves typically went into—butchery and meat smoking were more aligned with our natural talents—but that didn’t mean that such things couldn’t happen. Our kind weren’t completely immune to the allure of sugar.

“Aunt Martina,” Jasmine offered after a moment. “I wouldn’t say she’s on Augustus’s side, but she makes things for the kids for birthdays and holidays.”

“Like chocolates?”

“I think she’s done some, yeah. Oh right. I remember. She does for sure. She has wolf molds that she uses. ”

“Is she friendly enough toward Augustus that if he asked her to make something, she would?”

“Probably. Especially if he brought her a haunch of meat along with the request.”

“How about a side of bacon?”

“Uh, that might work. Why do you ask?”

I explained the mysterious box of chocolates.

“Aunt Martina wouldn’t poison anyone,” Jasmine said. “She’s ethical. She doesn’t even like it when her sons prey on ill or infirm animals on their hunts.”

“Well, she might have wandered out of the kitchen while Augustus dumped poison in the chocolate.”

“I can try to find out if she made anything for him.”

“Okay, good. I appreciate it.”

“Putting poison in chocolate would be a heinous act,” Jasmine said.

“Tell me about it.”