Page 4

4

After work, I endured my first sword-fighting lesson at a dojo a mile from home. Had I not had so much on my mind, I might have enjoyed learning new skills, but, during rest breaks, I’d kept glancing at my phone, hoping Jasmine’s dad had a lead on where Duncan might be. The only message that came in was a note from Austin saying he’d headed up north for his holiday snowboarding vacation. By the end of the lesson, with blisters forming on my palms, I’d vowed to do some more research into Duncan’s captors on my own.

Back at the complex, I walked up to the threshold of an apartment recently rented by Rue, the alchemist who’d formerly resided in downtown Seattle.

I issued the special knock I’d used with my previous alchemist, a retired nurse who’d been scared off by Jasmine in werewolf form. Rue hadn’t mentioned such things as being standard in the field, but who knew?

The door opened, a grayish-blue cloud of incense smoke wafting out over the shoulders of the white-haired, wizened-faced Rue. Before long, the ceiling would be dingy with the stuff. In a saner moment, I wouldn’t have leased an apartment to someone who dangled desiccated chicken feet, dried twists of herbs, and odd tufts of fur from the walls. But my life had gotten strange—and dangerous—suggesting I might repeatedly need the services of an alchemist.

“Yes, good.” Rue nodded firmly at me. “Knocking is less obtrusive than the doorbell, which agitates my familiar when she is on the premises. Why do the delivery persons insist on ringing the bell even when you’ve left instructions for them to place the items on the threshold, and the app alerts you to their arrival?” She lifted her smartphone.

I scratched my jaw, somehow finding the thought of sending out for groceries incongruous with a grandmother alchemist. “It’s a busy neighborhood. They want to make sure nobody steals your ingredients.”

Rue blinked. “It is not safe?”

“Sometimes, there are werewolves in the woods.”

“Oh, they do not concern me.” Rue flicked her fingers as if such powerful creatures were of little consequence. Given all the potions—and doubtless poisons —she had on shelves and what looked like medicine cabinets mounted all around the living room, she probably believed she could handle them. “Though the rabbit spleens I ordered earlier might have been tempting morsels to roaming werewolves.”

“You got those through Instacart?” I eyed her phone.

“There are other services those of us in the paranormal community find handy.” Rue stepped back, waving me into the smoky living room. “What do you require? Something I can make for you?”

“Maybe. That’s what I came to find out.”

“You are aware of my fees.”

“And that you don’t lower them, despite me giving you two months of free rent and both senior and veteran discounts.” The senior discount was her legitimate right; I had been looser when entering her status as a veteran. Why I’d negotiated at all, I wasn’t sure, except that her concoctions had been useful. With luck, they could be again.

“I allow you to enter and request my services without an appointment. Were you not the property manager who was presuming to tread upon my threshold near my bedtime hour, you might have found yourself doused with my skunk-thistle spray.”

“Bedtime? It’s 7:30 at night.”

“I go to sleep early. It’s good for the skin and one’s overall health.” Rue squinted at me. “Have you been applying my wrinkle cream?”

“No, but I will. It’s been a trying month. I need help finding something.”

Someone .

“You seek your missing werewolf mate. I observed that his vehicle is in the parking lot, but I have not sensed his presence in several days.”

“He’s not my mate, but yes.”

“Is he not itinerant in nature? Perhaps he departed to seek fine treasures elsewhere.”

Fine wasn’t an apt word to describe most of the rusty junk Duncan pulled out of lakes, ponds, and seawater, but I didn’t dispute the description, saying only, “Not without his van. It’s full of all his magical equipment for locating things. And also his sardine stash.”

“A tasty treat. I can see why one would not leave such behind.”

I crinkled my nose at that descriptor for the canned fish. “I think bad guys have Duncan—the same bad guys who employ the thugs who tried to get you to supply that Tiger Blood potion.”

“Their willingness to imbibe substances that require illegally acquired ingredients did disturb me. ”

“Yeah, that’s why I hate them too. Do you have anything that could help me find Duncan? He’s…”

Rue arched her eyebrows.

“I owe him,” I said to stave off further suggestions that we were mates. “I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“I see.” Rue headed for a shelf lined with books and tiny jars of colorful liquids. “I do have numerous recipes for location potions.”

I rubbed my eyes, the pungent haze making them water, and thought about stepping outside, but if she could truly help…

“I believe all of them require cells from the body of the being one wishes to locate.”

“Cells?”

“Yes, a physical manifestation of the person’s essence.” Rue pulled down a thick tome with yellowed pages, the binding loose. Very slight magic emanated from it. An enchantment to keep it from falling apart with time, perhaps.

“So, more than their scent, such as would be used for tracking?”

“Correct. I would need something from the body.”

“A hound could sniff a T-shirt he’d worn.”

“Should the services of a four-legged animal be what you required, you would not have come to my door.” Rue sniffed and opened the tome, the binding creaking.

“True.” Besides, I could have turned into my wolf form to track someone if I’d thought that would work. But days had passed since Duncan’s disappearance outside my cousin’s burned-down home, and it had rained since then. There wouldn’t be much of a trail. Even if there had been, tracking someone twenty miles through the suburbs wasn’t easy, and if he’d gotten into a car at any point…

“Here is a tried-and-true formula.” Rue rested a finger midway down a page near the front. The text had been handwritten who knew how many years—centuries?—ago. “I have many of these ingredients and could acquire most of the others.”

“Is rabbit spleen one of them?”

“It is not, but the same supplier could get most of these.” Rue looked at me. “If I were properly compensated.”

I sighed and checked my phone to see if Jasmine had called or texted yet. Thus far, her father hadn’t asked for compensation when researching things. But no new messages had popped up.

“I’m willing to pay a fair price,” I said.

“I would also, as I said, need some of his cells. Not very many. If you’ve had intercourse recently, I might be able to take a sample of his essence from your vagina.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “His essence isn’t in there. Even if it were, I bathe frequently to clean my body of sweat, grime, and other people’s cell samples.”

“Unfortunate.” Rue lifted the page to show me the recipe, though it wasn’t written in English. “This mentions that blood, saliva, semen, or excrement would do.”

Excrement? Ew.

“I can let you into Duncan’s van,” I said. “Maybe something in there would work. If you want, you can swab the inside of his composting toilet.”

Her lip curled. “That… could be sufficient. However unglamorous. I do charge extra for travel.”

“The van is in the parking lot.” I pointed in its direction, the lot only fifty yards away.

“I charge extra for travel,” Rue said firmly.

Since swabbing a toilet might be involved, I decided not to object. “Okay.”

Rue set the book aside, plucked a small leather kit out of a drawer, and gestured for me to lead.

Outside, rain pattered on the concrete-aggregate walkways and the asphalt parking lot. One of the landscaping lights along the way was burned out, and I made a mental note to change the bulb in the morning. I’d finished my maintenance to-do list before my sword-fighting lesson, but new duties came up every day here.

“Here you go.” I unlocked the door of the Roadtrek and opened it for her. A magical ceiling lamp turned on, emitting a warm glow. “Sample away.”

Rue curled her lip again, but she did climb into the van and open cabinets.

“The toilet is in that one.” I pointed, though I suspected she was looking for alternatives to collecting that kind of sample. Maybe she could find a used tissue or hairbrush or something else that would work for her recipe.

“How can you tell? All these doors are tiny.” Rue did locate the one that opened to the little lavatory, though the closet door beside it was of similar size.

“This van should make you appreciate the square footage of your apartment and give you a desire to pay more.”

“I thought you weren’t the owner and didn’t make any more money if I paid a higher rent.”

“That’s true, but I like to manage the property to the best of my abilities and ensure my employers make what they need to cover all the expenses of maintaining the complex.” A statement that was especially true now, though I doubted a two-hundred-dollar increase from one tenant would keep the Sylvans from selling.

“I guess I cannot fault you for that.” Rue took a bracing breath as she looked at the composting toilet and drew out her kit.

I thought about asking if she needed help, but the rumble of loud engines turning onto our street stopped me. As I faced the parking lot entrance, four big men on motorcycles sped into view. They headed straight for the complex’s driveway, and I groaned with the certainty that trouble had arrived.