Page 7 of Kin of the Wolf (Magnetic Magic #3)

7

I not only dragged my personal Christmas tree out of storage but put up the big outdoor one for the complex. The decorating included draping strings of lights all over it and the lampposts. While I worked near the parking lot, I eyed the entrance every time a car drove in, dreading the arrival of the police. Surely, the store owners had shared the video footage of me—in both incarnations of myself—with the authorities by now.

Instead, Duncan’s Roadtrek turned in and presumptuously parked in one of the staff spots next to my truck. Since he stepped out with a box of groceries containing more than cartons of eggs and packages of bacon, I didn’t berate him.

“We were interrupted earlier,” he said as he walked up with the load, “so I didn’t get to acquire your supplies.”

“I still have your hundred.” I dug into my pocket and held it out, glad it had been in the jacket that I’d removed before changing. One of my favorite pairs of jeans and a super soft hoodie had disappeared into the ether. Fortunately, I’d made a Goodwill trip earlier in the week and had picked up a few things .

Duncan eyed the bill. “I’d tell you to keep it, but I suspect I’d later find it on my dash with your gas money.”

“That’s right. This was your money to start with.” I waved it toward the box. “What’s all that? More than bacon and eggs.”

“Yup. I heard you’re going to have another mouth to feed. And we all know how big my mouth is.”

“I’m not sure that’s a bragging point, buddy.”

“Perhaps not.”

“You were listening to my phone call?”

“Not intentionally, but my hearing is excellent, and you didn’t wander far before answering it. Will you allow me to meet your son or hide me away like an embarrassing foot wart?” Duncan smiled as he asked, but there was an intentness in his brown eyes, as if my answer might matter.

Did he want to meet my son? When he’d met the rest of my family—the werewolf side of my family—they’d tried to kill him. All except my niece Jasmine, who thought he had a sexy accent. Admittedly, Mom hadn’t attacked him, but she was old and had cancer. I needed to visit her this holiday season too, even if she’d informed me on numerous occasions that werewolves weren’t Christian and didn’t celebrate Christmas. She hadn’t been amused when I, as a rebellious teenager, had draped tinsel over her tail.

“I’m not sure how I’ll explain you,” I said, “but Austin will probably love you. You live in a van full of geeky tech equipment.”

“It is a posh setup.”

“So posh that I had to sit on your gear shift this morning because there was so much crap in the seat well that it overflowed.”

“Next time, you can sit in my lap. You know, for your comfort.”

“I’d still get pronged by something.”

He grinned wickedly as he took the hundred and nodded in the direction of my apartment. “May I put these items in your fridge? ”

“Yes, thank you. Oh, and there’s a stack of clothing on the table for you.”

“Clothing?”

“We’ve both had a few unexpected changes of late. I used some of my clothing budget to pick up a few things for you.”

“That’s very thoughtful.” Duncan looked a little bemused—maybe women didn’t buy him clothing that often—but bowed and said, “Thank you.” After taking a couple of steps, he paused. “After you’re finished there, do you want to use some of the geeky equipment in my van to examine your case?”

I glanced at the time on my phone. Darkness had fallen, and it was after five. The calls from tenants and prospective tenants had dwindled, and I was technically off for the day.

“Okay.”

“I have a special treat waiting for you in there,” he called as he carried the groceries up the walkway.

“I’m not sitting in your lap,” I called after him.

He grinned back over his shoulder at me. It was a handsome grin, and I couldn’t help but return it. I tried to rub the expression off my face and tamp down my feelings. There was too much to do—too many problems to solve—and now, with Austin coming soon, I had a deadline.

I didn’t truly know if I would introduce Duncan to him since my sons might see it as a betrayal if I dated someone besides their father. But, after all the help Duncan had given me, I also didn’t want to shoo him away and tell him not to park here until after the holidays. Since he was a visitor to the Seattle area, he probably didn’t have any other friends or family here that he could celebrate with. Of course, if he followed my mom’s beliefs, he would be indifferent to Christmas—unless I draped tinsel over his tail.

My phone rang, a number I didn’t recognize, and I answered it warily. “Hello? ”

“Hello, is this the werewolf?” a woman with a stern voice asked.

It sounded familiar, but I struggled to place it. It couldn’t be the female owner of the convenience store, could it? I hadn’t heard her speak.

“Uhm, this is Luna.”

“The werewolf,” came the confident reply. “Unless you’ve changed your mind and have imbibed one of my potions?”

Oh, it was the alchemist. Rue.

“I haven’t yet but not because there’s anything wrong with them. I’m sure they’re of high quality.”

“Of course they are. I only use organic, free-range snake skins and slug slime.”

“I do hate factory-farmed slug slime.”

“Everyone does. It affects the efficacy of the potions. Do you still have an apartment for rent?”

I blinked at the abrupt topic shift, and it took me a moment to remember I’d mentioned that when Duncan and I had visited her graffiti-laden home downtown.

“I… think we have one vacating soon. I can check the date.”

The news stories on the complex had been a mixed blessing. After the parking-lot crimes, we’d lost some tenants, but we’d also gained new ones, those drawn by notoriety, such as the ladies who would probably be out setting up their ghost-hunting equipment soon.

“Very good. Do let me know if one is available and of decent size for storing equipment, books, and ingredients.”

“The one coming up is a two-bedroom.”

“ Perfect . The tenants in my current complex have grown tedious, and, as I informed you, the landlord blames me for the graffiti that ill-educated and bigoted neighbors leave on and around my door. The kindly but pushy grandmother who hands me bibles is no more welcome. I do not live in sin. I help the paranormal community with their problems.”

“I believe you. It’s common for the paranormal to be misunderstood by their mundane neighbors.”

“Yes, this is a certainty. I crave an outdoor entrance and a facility that allows pets such as dogs. Large dogs.”

“Up to sixty pounds with some breed restrictions,” I murmured the line from our lease paperwork automatically.

Rue hadn’t had a dog when we’d visited before, had she? Maybe she wanted them around the premises for protection purposes.

“Are the werewolves not more than sixty pounds?” she asked.

“Yeah, but they’re not pets.”

“They would, being territorial and quite powerful, effectively protect the residents from crimes, though, yes?”

“They would, but I’m also trying to cut down on the amount of crime.”

If she’d heard about all the craziness here, it was surprising she wanted to move up. Though maybe not. She could probably handle herself against criminals; graffiti-leaving grandmothers might be more difficult to deal with since propriety demanded a gentler hand when dealing with one’s elderly neighbors.

“Excellent. Do inform me when you learn the date that the unit will be available. My granddaughter has already promised to help me pack. She agrees that this domicile is not wholesome for me.”

And ours was wholesome?

“Okay,” was all I said and hung up.

Duncan had returned, carrying the stack of clothing I’d offered him, and caught the tail end of the call.

“I predict a change in the demographics of your tenants,” he said .

“If you mean we’re attracting more weirdos these days, I’m afraid you’re right.”

Duncan touched his chest, eyes innocent.

“Yes, you.”

“Huh. A question about these garments, if you don’t mind.” He held up a sweater. “They don’t have tags. I assume it’s not because they were handwoven, like my fine cashmere sweater from the Alps.”

“No, they’re not handwoven.”

As if. He’d seen my budgeting envelopes. There wasn’t money in any of them for clothes spun by artisans in exotic mountain homes.

Duncan held up the sweater, turning it left and right. “Were any of these items not to fit, where would I take them to exchange them?”

“Goodwill.”

“That is a store?”

“Yeah. They sell quality stuff at a bargain because it’s been worn before.”

“Worn before?” he mouthed, as if the concept were foreign to him.

“Yup. I call it experienced clothing. It’s been places and seen things.”

His mouth dangled open. For a guy who scrounged rusty bike frames off lake bottoms, he seemed shocked by the idea of thrifting.

“For obvious reasons, werewolves shouldn’t have expensive clothing. You won’t cry if this stuff disappears. Besides, my kids grew up wearing secondhand stuff, and they’re fine. Neither of them is in therapy.” I paused, less certain that was true now that they didn’t live with me. “Not for that anyway,” I amended.

“I see. Yes, quite practical.” Duncan lowered the sweater.

“More so than a blanket.” I’d finished with the decorations and pointed to his van. “I’ll get the case and meet you there. Unless you already snagged it when you were in my apartment?”

Even if I’d decided to trust him around the artifact, the question might have been a test. How much did he want to investigate it further?

“I didn’t presume to snag it, no. Especially given its last known storage location.”

Yeah, he’d balked at touching my tube of hormone cream. I’d actually moved the case from that dresser drawer back to the heat duct. The fewer people who knew its location the better.

“Good.” I patted his shoulder, then strode to my apartment.

Inside, I used my trusty oven mitt to retrieve the case. As usual, the magic tingled unpleasantly against my hand, even with the insulation.

To fortify myself, and tide my empty stomach over until dinner, I grabbed a couple of squares of chocolate. Before leaving, I peeked in the fridge to see what Duncan had left.

“Wow.”

There were six cartons of eggs, a stack of packages of bacon, sliced salami, traditional link sausages, five pounds of ground beef, and two ready-bake pizzas laden with pepperoni, sausage, and Canadian bacon. There wasn’t a sign of a vegetable, save for a tub of sauerkraut that had been there for weeks, maybe months, hunkering in the back behind my Greek yogurt.

“Austin really is going to love him,” I muttered.

My boys weren’t werewolves, but they did share the largely carnivorous traits of my kind.

When I returned to the van, the sliding door was open, a light on in the back. The Roadtrek had solar panels that I’d noticed tilted southward on Seattle’s rare sunny winter days, but my senses tingled a bit as I approached. The source of illumination was a glowing pendant dangling from the ceiling, not a light fixture.

“Are you ready for me?” I asked, leaning in .

At first I didn’t see Duncan, but he was in the front, knees on the passenger seat and butt toward me as he dug into the boxes under the dashboard.

“I’m always ready for you, my lady,” he said, his voice muffled.

“I should have assumed that.”

“Given my healthy stamina and vigor, most assuredly.”

I squeezed past the tiny sink and under-counter refrigerator and opened a narrow door, wondering if it revealed a closet. No, I’d found the bathroom, a bathroom smaller than a closet. There was a tiny corner sink and a showerhead, but was that a composting toilet? I wondered about the plumbing arrangement. Maybe he only had use of the shower and sink when he was at a campground with water hookups. Or… a parking lot with a hose? Since I’d never had an RV or even been camping in one, the workings were nebulous to me.

I closed the door and moved to the table immediately adjacent to the bathroom. In the van, everything was immediately adjacent to everything else.

The built-in padded bench seats were buried under boxes of gear and rusty treasures, with the area underneath the table equally packed. Cabinets and racks filled the wall space, blocking more than one window, and a bicycle was mounted flat to the ceiling, a pedal dangling low enough that I had to duck. Entering the van felt like climbing into a hoarder’s closet. The twin bed was the only place to sit. I perched on the edge of the mattress, stuff piled underneath bumping the backs of my legs, and set the case on the table.

To my lupine vision it had glowed, but to my human eyes it was merely aged ivory, the sides carved with decorative vines, leaves, and flowers, and the wolf head prominent on the lid. The hinges and clasp were small, even delicate, and looked like they wouldn’t keep a determined person from getting inside, but its unpleasant tingle grew into a more jolting electric zap if one tried .

“I’m delighted to have you join me in my abode, my lady.” Duncan bowed, as much as he could in the tight space, and almost clunked a pair of goggles he was wearing on the door to the bathroom. “I see you brought your sexiest attire.” He pointed to the oven mitt.

I removed it and rested it on the table. “I know how much kitchenware turns you on.”

“Quite. I hope you approved of the groceries I brought to replace what I ate.” He peered through the goggles at the case.

“You more than replaced what you ate.”

“As one should do if one hopes to be invited back. With these on, the case glows silver with a blue nimbus.” Duncan tapped the goggles, then pushed them onto his forehead and opened an upper cabinet. He withdrew the magic detector I’d seen before, a boxy device with antennae that reminded me of old-fashioned divining rods.

“It sounds similar to the view I had with my wolf eyes.” I didn’t remember a blue nimbus though.

If that had significance, he didn’t explain it. “I can’t see through the sides to get a gist as to the contents.”

“Are those X-ray goggles?”

“Not exactly, but sometimes you can see magical items, at least their blurry outlines, through walls and floors and such. I almost wore these when I visited your apartment with my magic detector, but you were already suspicious of me.”

“Yeah, guys who wander into my bedroom with X-ray goggles are extra sus.”

“Indeed.”

“Even as we speak, I’m wondering if I should be wearing a lead apron.” I squinted at him and crossed my arms over my chest. My boobs probably weren’t magical enough to glow through walls or whatever, but who knew. My blood was paranormal.

“I’ve already seen you naked. ”

“And imprinted it in your memory. Yes, I remember.”

“Since the case itself is magical, I didn’t expect to be able to see through the sides, but it was worth checking.” After removing the goggles, he turned on the magic detector.

It beeped happily, the antennae drawn toward the case.

Since we’d already determined it was magical, I merely raised my eyebrows. Duncan pushed up a hinged lid on the back of the device, something I hadn’t noticed before, and showed me a small window where information was displayed. A header claimed an 87 percent certainty that the case had been made with druidic magic but also gave a 10 percent possibility to shamanic origins. A bullet list included silver, nacre, and Siberian mammoth ivory, as well as a number of metals, including gold, iron, and cobalt.

“ Mammoth ivory?” I asked, assuming those were items present in the artifact.

“Oh yes. It’s quite rare, naturally, but there are preserved specimens available, and people do carve with it.”

“I guess we at least know an endangered species wasn’t illegally poached to make this.”

“I don’t imagine poaching was illegal when mammoths roamed the Earth, no. Getting one meant the village wouldn’t starve that winter.”

“Yeah.” I leaned back. The information was interesting but didn’t tell me much that I hadn’t known. The nacre—that was mother-of-pearl, wasn’t it?—probably lined the inside of the case. And the metals… “The hinges are silver, right? Do you think those other metals are mixed with it?”

“I… think this may be a list of the contents that make up the case but may also be giving us a clue about what’s inside.”

“Metal stuff?”

“Apparently.”

Duncan turned off the detector and grabbed a small tin I’d seen before. He dug a finger into its contents—some kind of glowing violet gunk the viscosity of lip balm—and rubbed the stuff over his hands. It would allow him to touch the case without being zapped. A better solution than an oven mitt.

Once he’d coated his hands, he tried unfastening the clasp. As before, it didn’t move, and neither did the lid.

“I’ve seen you rip open a steel door,” I said.

“Yes, and I could apply more force here, but…” Duncan turned the case over, eyeing it from all angles as whatever was inside clunked about. “I would prefer not to damage it, both because it’s a valuable magical artifact in its own right and because there might be a backlash.”

“Backlash like the magic knocking you through the windshield?”

“That’s a distinct possibility.” Duncan set the case down and delved into one of his storage containers. “I am undeniably curious about the contents though. What’s inside that can heal venom, poison, and werewolf bites?”

“What kinds of things are usually made using cobalt?” I had no idea, but a guy who fished for metal and magic for a living ought to know.

“Lots of items have cobalt in them. Batteries, pigments, drying agents, tooth implants…” Duncan poked in the storage container as he spoke. “It’s also used in superalloys for gas turbine and aircraft engines.”

“Oh yes. An aircraft engine. That’s what must be in the case.”

He lifted out one of his magnets with a flourish. “Cobalt is also used in these.”

“Magnets?”

“Yes.” Duncan held it over the case without touching it. A thunk sounded as the item inside hit the bottom of the lid.

“That’s kind of interesting,” I said, though I wasn’t sure it clued us in that much about the contents. “Did druids usually make artifacts out of metal? ”

“I don’t think they made armor and weapons out of metal, but they did use bronze, copper, and lead for some of their artifacts. And possibly cobalt, though I don’t know if I’ve heard of that specifically.”

“I can ask Bolin.”

After causing the item within to thunk against the lining of the case a few more times, Duncan sighed and put away his magnet.

“Do you think Radomir and Abrams know what’s inside?” I asked.

For that matter, had Chad known? When I’d eavesdropped, he’d sounded like he knew more about the case than he’d told Duncan.

“I don’t know.”

“If they knew everything about it and the other artifacts they were collecting, they wouldn’t have needed me to come up and touch things.”

“They only cared about you touching your mother’s medallion, though, right?”

“True. I was the one who was poking everything else to buy time. Still, it seemed like they might be in the studying process. Maybe they’re collecting everything they can related to werewolves, because…” I shrugged and looked at Duncan. He was more likely to know at least Abrams’ motivations than I.

“It could be a key.” Duncan made a turning motion in the air.

“A magical key?”

“Sure. To open a magical vault somewhere, perhaps. A big one buried in a mountain and guarded by a dragon. It could be full of ancient and exotic treasures.” His eyes gleamed at the notion.

“I would accuse you of avarice, but you consider rusty bike locks to be treasures. I think you just like the search.”

“I do enjoy the challenge, and I’m willing to sift through lesser items, sometimes referred to as junk, to find more interesting prizes. ”

“Since you gave me a sword you presumably found, I won’t suggest that your efforts are futile.”

“Certainly not. How do you think I afford my opulent lifestyle?” Duncan spread his arms, his knuckles bumping both sides of the van.

“You have a composting toilet.”

“An opulent one.”

“Oh, is it gilded?”

“No, but it’s self-incinerating.” He waggled his eyebrows, as if that might get me excited.

“So it’s as likely to hurl you through the windshield as the artifact.”

“Not quite. For your edification, not because I feel the need to prove the value of my chosen career to you, I have found vaults before. Safes, at least. There was one that I swam down to pull out of a barnacle-covered sunken ship on the bottom of the ocean. In the dark and dangerous depths, I had to twist and turn through tight passageways, almost getting stuck more than once.”

“Was the ship guarded by a dragon?”

“A killer whale, actually.”

“Did it kick your ass?”

“No. Despite the name, killer whales are pretty mellow. This one showed off by swimming around with a dead salmon on its head like a hat. Apparently, that’s an orca trend that comes in and out of fashion.”

“I know a dead fish is something I’d enjoy wearing.”

“No sillier than high-heeled shoes, I’d think.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

“Anyway, when I pulled up the safe and drilled into it, it contained a pile of gold and silver coins from the 1600s. It was quite the lucrative adventure and funded all my expenses for some time. I was so chuffed that I used some of the proceeds to buy buckets of salmon for the whale. It ate them instead of wearing them, though.”

“You’re an interesting werewolf.”

“A fascinating one, I should think.”

Movement outside one of the windows drew my eye. A car I didn’t recognize rolled into one of the guest spots. I groaned because I did recognize the driver and his passenger. The owners of the convenience store.

I peered behind their car, anticipating a number of police vehicles trailing them into the parking lot. I didn’t see them, but the way the couple gazed intently through the windows at me promised they hadn’t come to ask about apartment vacancies.