Page 2 of Kin of the Wolf (Magnetic Magic #3)

2

The next morning, when I wandered out of my bedroom in my robe, I had coffee on my mind, but I spotted a very naked Duncan Calderwood sprawled on my couch and stopped to stare. The night before, I hadn’t exactly invited him in, but when I’d opened the door, he’d padded inside and lain on the floor, as if to say he would guard the threshold while I slept. With my cousins lurking in the area, possibly plotting ways to attack me and steal the case, I hadn’t objected, but he’d been a wolf when I went to bed.

Now, he lay on his back with his arm flung over his eyes and his entire nude body on display.

Though he was a few years older than me—fifty, he’d admitted once—he was as fit as a twenty-year-old pro athlete. The appeal of his muscled form made my gaze linger, despite a notion that I ought to respect his modesty—not that I’d noticed he had any—and drape a blanket over him. Instead, I eyed his powerful frame and the scars the years had left on him, including shackle-like bands around his wrists, and wondered how the night might have ended if we had gone off to hunt together. When our lupine magic waned, we might have ended up in a bed of ferns, enjoying each other’s company.

Duncan must have woken and sensed me near because he lowered his arm and looked at me.

The heat of embarrassment flushed my cheeks as I jerked my gaze from his chest—and possibly lower parts.

A smug smile stretched his face. Yes, he’d caught me looking.

“You got fur all over my couch,” I blurted, the first thing that came to mind, born out of a silly need to deny that I’d been admiring him. And wanting him. He was already full of himself. He didn’t need to know those things.

“Did I?” Duncan rolled onto his shoulder, giving me the view of the butt side, and perused the cushions. He plucked a gray strand of wolf fur out of a crack. It wasn’t the only one. “Maybe I should have strewn paper towels over the cushions.” He’d done that before when I’d warned him not to get blood on the couch. “That would have been hard to do with only paws and teeth though.”

I propped a fist on my hip. “I thought you were going to sleep on the floor.”

“There was a draft.”

“A draft? Wolves in the wild curl up in balls and sleep under mounds of snow.”

“Snow is insulating. Those fake wood planks shoot icicles straight through your pelt and into your flanks.”

“You must be insufficiently furred if your flanks feel the chill from the floor.”

Duncan flopped onto his back again and gazed at me with a lot of fondness considering I was insulting him. And was he checking me out?

My robe reached to my knees and was far too fluffy to be sexy, but I hadn’t cinched it that tightly… I lifted a hand, thinking of covering more of my chest, but a part of me was chuffed to have hi m interested. At forty-five, with two grown sons, it wasn’t as if I was the ravishing beauty of my youth. Instead, I tossed him a blanket.

“My fur is sufficient,” Duncan said. “ All of me is sufficient.”

“Uh-huh. Why don’t you cover some of that all of you ? Where are your clothes?”

“In my van.”

“Haven’t I had that towed yet?”

He grinned. “You’re at your snarky crabbiest first thing in the morning, aren’t you?”

As if I couldn’t be snarky and crabby at any hour of the day. But I took a breath and attempted to lower my hackles. I wasn’t mad at him, just flustered that he’d caught me staring at his brazen nudity.

“I didn’t get to hunt last night due to my turds of relatives showing up,” I said. “That makes a werewolf crabby.”

“Quite true. Though I did spot you with a mouse tail dangling from your lips. You hunted something .” A twitch of his nostrils was the only indication that he believed it had been substandard prey.

“It was a frustration mouse.” I pointed toward the kitchen, specifically at the espresso maker on the counter. “Do you want coffee?”

“Yes, but allow me to make it for you.” Ignoring the blanket I’d tossed him, Duncan rose and swept past to beat me to the kitchen. “It’s the least I can do after leaving fur on your couch.”

Afraid he would mess up my settings or break something, I grabbed his blanket and hurried to bump him to the side. “You can heat up leftovers if you want to be helpful. Or go get clothes and dress before tenants are all over the walkways with their dogs and able to witness and complain about a naked man roaming the premises.”

I looked at the windows. The days were short enough this time of year that it wasn’t light yet at seven, but it wouldn’t be long before the dedicated dog walkers took to the paths.

Duncan touched his chest. “You think they’d complain ?”

“Yes. There’s a no-nudity policy here.” I wrapped the blanket around his waist and tied it, giving him a makeshift skirt.

“America is repressed.”

“We know. That’s how we like it.” I poured coffee beans into the hopper.

“I’m pleased to see that you haven’t thrown away the gift I gave you.” Duncan pointed to a corner of the living room where I’d leaned the antique sword he’d delivered. He’d also given me two months’ worth of chocolates after the incident when the scientist, Lord Abrams, had used a magical device to control him and make him attack me.

“Who would throw away a valuable antique sword?”

One that, at least according to him, had silver mixed into the alloy so that it was extra effective against werewolves.

“A woman peeved with a man over a betrayal.”

“The betrayal wasn’t your fault. This time.” I gave him a pointed look. By now, I’d forgiven him for taking the thieving gig from my ex-husband, but there was no reason to let him know that.

“I fought the control as hard as I could,” Duncan said, his face serious now.

“I know.”

He’d sent me flying a couple of times, but I remembered his hesitation, his tormented eyes as he’d fought the magical compulsion. He could have killed me that night, and he hadn’t. He’d let me escape. Which was probably why he’d ended up half-dead in a literal ditch.

Duncan looked away, his expression troubled, then took a breath and changed the subject. “Do you know why your cousins are after that case? I thought they only wanted the medallion your mother is set on leaving to you in her will.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t think they knew about it, honestly. As far as I know, that business guy, Radomir, and your Lord Abrams were the ones behind stealing it.”

“He’s not my lord. Trust me.” Duncan peeked into cupboards and removed coffee mugs and plates as we spoke. “I thought he was long dead.”

“Rude of him to randomly show up thirty years later with the means to control you.”

“ I thought so.”

“I still don’t know why he dumped you in a ditch. You’re valuable, aren’t you?”

“I think his minions were responsible for the dumping,” Duncan said without answering the question.

When he’d first reappeared, it had crossed my mind that Abrams had let Duncan go so that he would return to me and, when Abrams activated that magical device again, be close enough to get the artifacts back from me. The case, at least. I’d returned my mom’s medallion to her.

“Technically, they may have been Radomir’s minions,” he said. “I didn’t figure out which one of them was in charge.”

“They seemed like a team.”

“An odd team, yes.” Duncan looked in the fridge.

“To answer your question, I don’t know why Augustus would want the case. He might have come to kick my ass, and I happened to be studying it when he arrived.”

Except that he’d looked at it very intently. And with avarice in his eyes. An odd emotion for a wolf, even a werewolf. I couldn’t deny that our human halves were integrated into our being and made us different from non-magical animals, but we weren’t our normal selves when in wolf form.

“Did you mean to do that?” Duncan asked. “Study it as a wolf? ”

“Yes. I had a hunch doing so might reveal something.”

I hadn’t told him about the vision I’d had weeks earlier, that I would be able to see and sense more about the case if I looked at it while in my wolf form. It hadn’t been until last night, with the full moon creeping closer, that I’d been able to change in a quiet moment when I wasn’t threatened or angry or protective. Usually, it took strong animalistic emotions or the moon’s power to allow the wolf to come out.

I’d hoped to see much more—to understand more—about the case. Seeing it glow had been vaguely interesting, but it hadn’t enlightened me.

I would have to return the artifact to Bolin, my intern and a fledgling druid, to study. To study and to protect from thieving cousins. His father had a safe, and I doubted anyone in my pack knew where his parents lived.

“Did you learn anything from your scrutiny?” Duncan asked, peering into the fridge. “And when you said leftovers , did you mean this tub of Greek yogurt? Or these three slices of cheese?”

“I guess I haven’t shopped for a while. There’s bacon we can cook though. I know your carnivorous werewolf genes won’t mind that.”

“Ah, yes. I do love American bacon. Even when it isn’t smothered in chocolate. There aren’t, by chance, any of your bars in here, are there?” He looked into the dairy bin.

“No. You store chocolate at room temperature, not the fridge.” I opened the cupboard to show him my stash. “As to the rest… I saw the case glow, but that’s it.”

“I also noticed it glow and felt its power. A lot of power. What did you say the inscription translates to?”

Having read the words enough times to have them memorized, I recited, “ Straight from the source lies within protection from venom, poison, and the bite of the werewolf . ”

“It sounds like it’s something to thwart our kind, not help them.”

“I thought learning about it might reveal something about the lost bite magic.”

Duncan looked at me.

“The mostly lost bite magic.” I arched my eyebrows.

When he’d first told me his story about magically being created in a lab by Abrams, who’d used DNA gathered from a long-dead werewolf found frozen and preserved under a glacier, I hadn’t entirely believed it. Since then, I’d witnessed him change into the bipedfuris, the powerful two-legged form that had been lost to werewolves for generations. It was as the bipedfuris that one could bite a human and transmit the magic of our kind.

When Duncan didn’t respond, I shrugged. “My mom has lamented that our people have lost that power, that there’s not as much magic in the world or in werewolves as there used to be. Since the bite can’t create new werewolves, we are, like other magical beings from times past, dying as a species.”

“I don’t know if that can be changed. It sounds like the case, or whatever is in it, protects people by undoing a werewolf bite.”

“I know. I just… have a hunch.” I took a frying pan out of a cabinet and set it on the stovetop for him. “Do you want black coffee—an Americano?—or a latte?”

“Un café allongé.”

“Black, it is.”

As I pulled shots, inhaling the scintillating coffee aroma, I debated my hunch and if I had any evidence for it. Other than the wolf on the lid and the mention of bites in the inscription, nothing indicated the case should have significant meaning for our kind. And Duncan was right. The words implied that the artifact would be for staving off werewolves rather than returning their magic to them. Was I grasping at straws? And, if so, why ?

“I think I need a mission, Duncan,” I admitted as I set his Americano on the counter next to him.

He was peeling off strips of bacon and laying them in the pan. “A mission? I have just the thing.”

“Does it involve magnets or magic detectors?”

“Of course .” Duncan looked at me as if I would be foolish to believe otherwise. “I’ve been eyeing a fascinating little oasis by a convenience store a few blocks away. There’s a boardwalk halfway around a pond with a dock that sticks out into it. Further, there’s a cement post thrusting up out of the water on one side, the top sheared off, an ode to a mysterious past era.”

“Are you talking about that scummy pond where kids feed the ducks? I think that post had a bat house on it at one point.”

“There could be all manner of treasures sunken into the muddy depths under the murky surface.” Duncan spread his arms with enthusiasm for this idea.

“Judging by all the loaves of bread that go down duck gullets, there’s a lot of poop in the muddy depths.”

“The pond calls to me.”

“You’re a weirdo, Duncan.”

“As we’ve established. But if you don’t find fulfillment in replacing faucets and toting toilets around this hive of humanity, perhaps you are correct in seeking a quest.”

“The toilets aren’t un fulfilling. I like taking care of the people here. But the maintenance problems here aren’t that challenging to me.”

Not mentally stimulating. Maybe that was the right term.

“It’s likely a boon for your dwellers if the toilets are unchallenging,” Duncan said.

“I think they prefer them that way, yes.”

“Is this all you have?” He held up the last strip of the pound of bacon he’d already crammed into the pan. It wasn’t going to cook evenly. “I assume you’ll want some. A werewolf can’t subsist on dairy products alone. That’s not even enterically wise for our kind.”

“Uh-huh. Bacon is expensive. You’re only supposed to eat a few slices at a time.” I waved to the fridge. “There are some eggs in the bottom drawer. And what I meant about needing a mission is that… Oh, I don’t know. Now that my boys have moved out and are more or less self-sufficient, I feel… I don’t know. I used to have to take care of them, and I was on a mission to mold them into decent human beings without the awful tendencies of their father. Now… I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, other than keeping bad guys from vandalizing cars in the parking lot and shooting up the complex.”

“Those seem like quite noble goals.”

“And more stimulating than poking through duck droppings for treasures, I suppose.” I emptied the portafilter basket and ground more beans.

“Oh, I beg to differ. With as much foot traffic as that pond sees, we’re bound to find something good. It’s the weekend, is it not? You don’t need to work here today, do you? You could come with me.”

“I… always have work here that I can do, and I have to be on-call for emergencies, but the leasing office will be closed.”

Duncan gazed at me. “I don’t know if you answered my question or not.”

“I know.” I pressed the button to make another Americano.

“Since I don’t have any children—probably—” His brow furrowed as he seemed to reconsider that statement before shrugging and continuing. “I can’t say that I’ve exactly experienced what you’re going through, but it makes sense that enjoying motherhood and its duties fulfilled you.”

“Enjoying isn’t quite the word I would use.”

He definitely hadn’t experienced parenthood.

Duncan waved away the comment and continued. “It’s natural that you would seek fulfillment in another vein. And the puzzle of this wolf case has been placed in your lap. Why wouldn’t you want to solve that mystery? Maybe you were meant to solve it.” He pushed the bacon around to make room for a ridiculous number of eggs, emptying the cartoon that should have lasted another week. It was like having teenagers in the apartment all over again. “Perhaps it isn’t that you found the case but that the case found you.”

“ You’re the one who found it. By waving your magic detector all over my apartment without asking permission.”

“That is true, but you should feel vastly grateful for my intervention. Now you’ve a fascinating artifact to research.” Duncan found tongs in a drawer, extracted a lopsidedly cooked piece of bacon from the pan, and offered it to me. “You’re welcome.”

“That’s half raw. You’re a better pitmaster than short-order cook.”

“A touch of rawness can’t bother you. It’s not like that mouse you chomped down last night was fricasséed.”

“Touché.” I accepted the bacon.

“You were cute with the tail dangling out of your mouth.”

“An observation that nobody in the world but a werewolf would make.”

“The constant struggle, conflict, and risk inherent in our lives teaches us to appreciate what others can’t.”

“Like mouse tails.”

“Cutely dangling mouse tails.”

Duncan smiled again, the easy handsome smile that always drew me, whether I should let myself be attracted to him or not. With Abrams and his Duncan-control device out there somewhere, keeping my distance seemed wise.

“I was hoping you’d invite me into your bedroom last night,” he murmured, unaware of my thoughts.

“So you could get fur on my sheets too? ”

“I could have changed first.” Duncan patted his flat stomach and waggled his eyebrows. “And then… I could have given you the adventure of a lifetime.”

I sipped coffee from my mug. “Given what you consider an adventure, I’m not sure how enticed I should be.”

“I promise you there’s something good in that pond.”

Someone knocked at my front door. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Whether I should be drawn to him or not, Duncan was good company and easy to spend time with.

“I guess that answers my question about whether you need to work today,” he said as I tightened my robe and went to answer the door.

It had grown light out, meaning the hour when Duncan could travel naked to the parking lot without garnering notice had passed. Oh well. I’d knotted the blanket well.

Bolin stood on the threshold, a newspaper tucked under his arm, a whipped-cream-covered mocha in his hand, and bags under his eyes.

“I haven’t given you the case back,” I said, surprised to see him on a Saturday, “so I know you weren’t up late researching it.”

“No, I was playing DWS — Destiny Wields a Sword. It’s a new MMORPG.”

“An Em-what?”

“A computer game. You slay vampires.”

“Hang around here at night, and you can slay werewolves.”

Bolin opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “A month ago, I would have thought that was a joke.”

“Sorry.” We hadn’t yet discussed that I was a werewolf, less because I worried about him sharing the secret and more because he’d started his internship here not believing in werewolves. It wasn’t my duty to disavow a youth of his childhood fancies. “If it helps, a month ago, I didn’t know druids still existed in the world.”

“Really? ”

“Well, no. I was aware of the witches, warlocks, and clairvoyants in the area, and assumed some druids might be spattered in, but I didn’t know any of the ones that existed were allowed to swill coffee, carry man purses, and drive monstrous, gas-guzzling SUVs.”

He mouthed the term man purses , reminding me that I’d only thought that about his expensive leather bag, not voiced the words aloud. But it was the SUV comment that he took offense to. “There’s nothing in any druid tenets anywhere that forbids driving a nice car.”

“Uh-huh. Are the birds still pooping on it?”

He squinted at me.

“I know the plastic scarecrow owls didn’t deter them. I saw them abandoned in the maintenance shed with droppings all over them.” What did it say about my life that droppings had come up more than once already that morning? That I was close to nature? Or that I was even weirder than Duncan?

“The plastic bubble is working when I take the time to put it up.” Bolin shook his head. “I can’t believe I came here at the crack of dawn to bring you a newspaper.”

“I can’t either.” I kept myself from adding I was surprised he knew where to buy a physical newspaper—to think, he’d called me a Boomer, even though I was barely Gen-X. I’d teased him enough for the morning though. One had to keep up the morale of one’s interns, not torment them needlessly. “I assume there’s something pertinent in it?”

He held a section from the Seattle Times out to me, a photo of the apartment complex, Sylvan Serenity Housing, on the front of the NW section. I slumped against the door frame, certain this didn’t herald anything good.