Page 11 of Relics of the Wolf (Magnetic Magic #2)

11

I shoveled snow from the walkways leading to the parking lot with more vigor than the activity required. It was not, I assured myself, sexual frustration. I was way too old to have hormones that had hissy fits over denied passions.

“Tell that to last night’s dreams,” I muttered with a big shove.

Sweat dampened my clothes under my jacket. Two inches had fallen during the night, a rare occurrence in Seattle, especially before the official start of winter. The forecast promised temperatures would melt it by midday, but I always hurried to shovel the snow when it came, not wanting any of the tenants to slip and be hurt. I’d risen before dawn to sand the parking lot.

At least the work had given me time to think, to think and scheme. An idea was percolating in my mind. I was tempted to run it past Duncan. I looked over at his van parked in the corner of the lot, snow covering the roof and obscuring the windows. But his ongoing evasiveness made me reluctant to confide in him. As I’d been thinking the day before, it would be a good idea to find the artifacts without him at my side.

Bolin’s G-Wagon rolled into the lot, its lack of snow and frost promising it had spent the night in a cozy garage. There was a splotch of bird poop on the windshield, something left behind from work the day before presumably. I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or puzzled that the feathered locals had it out for that vehicle.

I had about finished with the walkways, so I headed over to greet him. He might have ideas about my percolating scheme and whether or not it could work. At the least, he could tell me the origins of the words I might choose if I placed an ad on that community board—that was part of what I had in mind.

When Bolin climbed out of his SUV, he didn’t look in my direction. Instead, he rummaged in the back and pulled out several gray and brown objects, each about a foot high. I couldn’t tell what they were until he planted one on the hood.

“Are those… plastic owls?” I asked.

“To scare away the birds, yes.” Bolin put another on the hood, then four on the roof. “They’re like scarecrows. The birds will see them, think they’re fearsome beaked predators, and stay away.”

I leaned against my snow shovel and eyed the faux raptors with skepticism but didn’t suggest his scheme wouldn’t work. After all, I had a scheme of my own in mind, and I hoped for support.

“Need any help placing them? It’s a bit stormy today. The wind may blow them off.”

“Nope. I filled them with rocks.” Bolin tilted the last one to show me a plastic plug in the bottom. “If they work, I might ask if I can store them here in one of the maintenance sheds, so I don’t have to carry them in the car. Once they’ve been out in the elements, they’ll get wet.” He curled a lip, probably imagining dour dampness touching his expensive leather seats.

I nobly refrained from suggesting the owls would probably also get pooped on. So far, the birds chattering in the nearby trees weren’t subdued by the arrival of the supposed predators.

“That’s no problem,” I said.

“Excellent.” His owls placed, Bolin drew out two to-go coffee cups. After taking a breath and visibly bracing himself, he faced me and the apartment complex.

It bemused me that he needed such bracing for an office job that started at eight, but I held my snark back so I could ask his advice. “I need a favor.”

His gaze fell to the handle of the snow shovel I was leaning against. “Don’t you pay someone to do that? This place has a ton of walkways, plus the parking lot.”

“I do have a service that swings through to plow around the cars if we get more than four inches.”

“And the walkways?”

“They’re not wide enough for a plow.” I waved the shovel.

His lip curled again, and he took a deep swig from one of the cups.

“I’ve got them handled though. What I was wondering…” I glanced at Duncan’s van to make sure he hadn’t ambled out, then lowered my voice to finish. “If I was able to cobble together something that looked like an ancient magical artifact, do you have any druid potions that we could sprinkle on it to make it glow?”

“Sprinkle,” he mouthed.

“Yeah. Douse, pour over, drench. Whatever.”

“Did you know the word drench comes from the Old English drencan , which means to give drink to or make drunk? Also from the Proto-Germanic drankijan .”

“I assumed it did, yeah.”

Bolin squinted at me. “Sprinkling a potion on something won’t make it glow, but if you give me the object, I might be able to cast an illusion on it that could do the job. You’re looking to fool someone?” He looked toward the van. “That won’t work on him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not planning to involve him in any way. My doohickey only needs to have a wolf head and fool whoever’s hiring thugs to steal wolf artifacts from innocent people.” I extended a hand toward him.

“You could probably use a crayon to draw a wolf on a flattened beer can and fool the troglodyte who attacked me.”

“I doubt he’s that dumb. And he’s alchemically enhanced, so he might be able to sense whether an object, a faux artifact, if you will, has any magic about it.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Bolin grimaced and touched his forehead.

“My idea is to use my fake artifact to bait a trap for him and his cronies—there are a bunch more of those overpowered guys who lurk, at least now and then, at El Gato Mágico downtown.”

“I’ll cross that place off my to-visit list.”

“Other than the bar fight in the back, it wasn’t that bad. There were some geeky wizard types playing Dungeons and Dragons.” I nodded toward him.

“Are you implying those are the types I might fit in with?”

“I can envision you at their table.”

“My ancestors were druids, not wizards.” Bolin sniffed disdainfully before taking another drink.

“They looked like they would be interested in word origins. One had a wand. If you made friends, maybe he would use it to zap the rogue birds turning your luxury car into a port-a-potty.”

“Funny. Have you started construction on this faux artifact?”

“Not yet. Is there any material that would be better to use than others? For glow? I’ve got carpentry tools and some experience there, but artifacts aren’t usually made out of wood. My metallurgy skills are much more limited, and ivory-carving isn’t something I’ve tried.” I didn’t even know if one could legally buy ivory anymore. “I’m not a practiced craftswoman, so I’m a little concerned about my ability to create something that includes a realistic wolf head. I might have to hire someone who can carve or sculpt.” I winced, having few envelopes left with money in them for the month. Nothing had been budgeted for hiring artists.

Bolin listened to my meandering musings with a bland expression on his face. After another sip, he asked, “Do you want me to go home and 3D-print something for you?”

“Uhm, would that be… realistic?”

I’d heard of the technology, of course, but it wasn’t anything the apartment complex needed, so I hadn’t looked into it.

“More realistic than you chiseling a wolf head out of wood scraps, I’m sure.” Bolin rolled his eyes.

Once more, I nobly held back my snark, though I did envision myself skipping around his SUV later and sprinkling birdseed on it. “If you could make something realistic, I would appreciate it.”

“Sure. I can go get it started now. I’ve got a row of dragons and spaceships lined up in my room that I made and painted.”

I smirked at him. “I knew you would fit in at the D&D table.”

“Funny,” he said again.

“Yup. I’m thinking of starting a side-hustle at a comedy club.”

Shaking his head, Bolin removed the carefully placed owls and drove off.

Maybe I should have asked him how long it would take to 3D-print a wolf head. I worried that Mom’s illness limited the amount of time we had. Further, if whoever had requested the wolf artifacts wasn’t a local, the ones that had been gathered might be shipped off to who knew where.

An image of Chad on a dock in Costa Rica, having a package delivered into his hands, floated through my mind. I didn’t know if he was behind this—I doubted he would be able to hire alchemically enhanced thugs from halfway around the world—but it was possible he was. If Duncan had told him off, as he’d implied, then Chad might have searched for someone else to get the case for him. I didn’t know, however, how he would have known about Mom’s artifact. When we’d been together, I’d told him very little about the pack—all he’d known was that I’d lost the first love of my life and the pain was why I’d left my family. There was no reason I could think of that he would have guessed the pack had valuables, other than that they were werewolves. I hadn’t known about the medallion myself until Mom had shown it to me the week before.

I looked toward the Roadtrek, tempted to ask if Duncan would call Chad and try to get information from him. To my surprise, Duncan was sitting in the front seat, visible through the frosted windows. Was he talking on the phone?

He noticed me across the parking lot and lifted a finger when our eyes met. Yes, he was talking to someone.

I headed to a patch of snow that needed removing and worked on it, but I glanced often at the van, curious who he was speaking with that had prompted him to tell me to wait. It wasn’t as if we had a breakfast date and had agreed to meet, but the gesture seemed to imply…

He moved into the back of the van and out of sight.

My curiosity prompted me to walk over there. I hadn’t left his window cracked this time, but I stood in the same spot as when I’d eavesdropped before and tried to hear him.

As more days had passed, the remnants of the previous dose of my potion had completely worn off, and my werewolf-gifted senses had grown stronger. They were keen enough that I could hear Duncan speaking, even without an open window.

“No, I didn’t reconsider,” he was saying. “I just thought you should know that someone else got your case.”

My mouth dropped open. Was he speaking with Chad again? Even though I’d just been thinking about asking him to contact my ex-husband, it was hard not to seethe. The thought of them chatting—chatting and colluding —made me crazy.

“Unless you’re the one responsible for that theft,” Duncan added. In a leading tone? “When I wasn’t able to get it, did you put the word out, offering money up here to anyone who found werewolf artifacts?”

I willed myself to calm down. It sounded like Duncan might have called on my behalf to try to learn if Chad was behind things.

“I’m in Brazil now. How am I going to put word out in Seattle?” came Chad’s voice, surprisingly clearly.

Had Duncan put him on speakerphone? Maybe he knew I was lurking and wanted me to hear this.

“I hear they have the internet all over the world these days,” Duncan said dryly.

After a pause, Chad said, “There is that Discord server where dealers for the paranormal hang out.”

He sounded thoughtful, like he hadn’t considered it before but was doing so now. Or was he simply playing dumb? Maybe he’d figured out that Duncan was more on my side than his. I hoped Duncan was more on my side.

“There are several,” Duncan said. “Which one are you thinking of?”

“The Elder Kinwalkers. I’ve gotten information there before.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve heard of that one. You might even find leads there.”

“Not if someone already stole my case,” Chad grumbled. “Are you sure about that? You’re not still up there, sleeping with her, are you?” The jealousy in his tone was more irritating than flattering. He couldn’t possibly care about who I had sex with, could he? Not when he’d left me numerous times over the years. He’d been sleeping with girls all over the world long before I filed for a divorce, threw his belongings into the parking lot, and changed the locks.

“I’m still up here. The treasure hunting is good. Who I sleep with isn’t any of your business.”

“Stay away from her,” Chad said.

“You’ve got an interesting way of apologizing.”

Apologizing? Had Chad been the one to call?

“I thought you might still be able to get the case,” Chad said. “Now that I know someone else has it… Shit. Can you find it and get it back? I’m still willing to pay. I think that’s going to be worth even more than I thought. To the right people. If you can find it, I’ll cut you in big time.”

Duncan hesitated.

“ No ,” I mouthed but didn’t say loudly enough for him to hear.

“Who are the right people? Do you have any idea who else might have wanted it? Maybe they’ve already got it. I described that thug to you. Does he sound familiar? I can do some research, but it would help if I knew who else is in the running. You know, willing to pay for the acquisition of werewolf artifacts.”

The van side door slid slowly open. Startled, I backed up a step. Duncan wasn’t surprised to see me, and the phone was indeed on the speaker setting. He’d known I was there. And thought I might want to hear?

He watched my face warily, probably not sure how I would react.

I clenched my jaw but didn’t do anything to interfere with the end of the call.

“I have no idea who that guy is,” Chad said. “He sounds like someone’s heavy. And, no, I’m not the only one looking for werewolf artifacts right now.”

“Oh? Do you plan to resell it? No offense, chap, but if I find it, I could sell it to the highest bidder myself.”

“You don’t know who the highest bidder is.”

“I can find out.”

“You’re not stealing my artifact and selling it to my contact, you bastard. I hired you to fetch it, not screw me and my wife.”

“She’s your ex-wife.”

“She’s still mine .”

“That’s not what she says.”

I nodded firmly, my face hot, my hands clenched around the snow shovel. I wished Chad were physically present so I could club him in the head.

“Stay away from her,” Chad warned, “and if I find out you sold that case, I’ll come up and kill you myself.”

“I’m trembling with fear.” Duncan hit the button to hang up and lowered the phone. Face still wary, he met my eyes. “He called me. Not for the first time since the conversation you overheard, but I didn’t answer before. I thought if I did so this time, I might be able to get some useful information.”

Trying to sublimate my anger—it was directed far more at Chad than Duncan—I struggled to answer. I needed a minute to stand there with snowflakes landing on my head as I fumed.

“I knew you were there,” Duncan added. “Your aura of werewolfness is stronger now that your potion has fully worn off.”

“My aura of werewolfness is stronger when I’m pissed ,” I finally got out.

“Ah. I looked something up for you. Do you want to see it?” Duncan tapped his phone and held up a map.

“I want…”

What did I want? Duncan hadn’t done anything wrong, other than answer the phone when my nemesis had called, and he’d had a reason.

“Me to get naked so you can ravage my firm, taut body?”

I gave him the exasperated look the question deserved, but his silliness did cause some of the tension in my shoulders to release. “No.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“Also, firm and taut mean the same thing.”

“If that were true, two different words wouldn’t exist.”

“Do you want me to get Bolin? He’s my word expert.”

“To discuss my firm tautness? No.”

Just as well. He’d taken off in his SUV. To 3D print my wolf artifact, I hoped.

I waved at the phone. “What have you got?”

“I’ve marked all the lavender farms within fifty miles of Seattle.” He held up a map with numerous dots on the northeastern part of the Olympic Peninsula and a few more scattered in northern Snohomish County.

“Are you planning to buy me a bouquet of flowers?” I asked before remembering the lavender scent he’d caught whenever we’d been close to the blond guy. Since I hadn’t picked it up myself, it was easy to forget.

“No, I’m saving for a micro diamond, remember?” Duncan waved toward the bills pinned on his dash. “Lavender is fleeting. Diamonds are forever. The ultimate memento to remember someone by.”

“You think I want to remember you forever?”

“I’d be aghast if any woman wanted to forget me.”

I shook my head and rubbed my face, smiling slightly despite myself. He was goofy, but maybe I needed some goofy in my life.

“You think the lavender scent you caught was from our guy traipsing through actual flowers?” I was skeptical, especially since it was late November. Lavender season had long since passed. “Isn’t it more likely he uses lavender-scented deodorant or something?”

“Did he seem like the kind of man to buy floral deodorant?” It was Duncan’s turn to sound skeptical. “I don’t believe there’s any kind of man who would rub flower smells under his armpits.”

“Oh, they exist, but I agree he didn’t seem like one.”

“If it’s unlikely he’s rubbing his armpits with floral scents, he may be spending time somewhere that they linger in the air.” Duncan waved his phone, the map still on the display.

“He could have a lavender car freshener he picked up at a gas station.”

“I suppose, though I maintain that’s not a manly scent that a professional mugger would be likely to purchase.”

“No? Mugging people is a tough job, and lavender is supposed to be de-stressing.”

Duncan shrugged. “I’ll send you the map and list of places in case anything strikes you as worth checking out. Some of these farms are in your pack’s territory.”

“Okay. But what was that online server Chad mentioned? You teased that out of him, right? It wasn’t something you knew about?”

“I did try to get it out of him, but the name is familiar. The Elder Kinwalkers. I’ll look it up, but I think it’s an underground marketplace where people trade items relevant to alchemists, witches, druids, shamans, etc. A paranormal eBay of sorts.”

I made a note of the name. It sounded like a good place to list a faux werewolf artifact for sale.

“Luna?” came a call from one of the walkways, one of the tenants taking her miniature pinscher around the grounds.

“Poop bags?” I guessed.

“Yes, the dispenser by the path is empty again.” She waved toward the greenbelt.

“I’ll fill it.” Lowering my voice, I muttered, “Either people besides my tenants are using those, or the werewolves cruising through the area are taking them.”

Duncan snorted. “Your cousins didn’t seem the solicitous types to bag their droppings after a hunt.”

“Probably not. They’re on the rude and presumptuous side.” I lifted a hand in a wave, intending to get back to work, but I paused to make myself say, “Thanks for researching this on my behalf.”

“You’re welcome. Do you forgive me for talking to He Who Shall Not Be Named?”

This time, I snorted. “He’s not Voldemort. I’d feel better about you if you didn’t chat him up regularly?—”

“I don’t. I just thought I might be able to get useful information from him.”

“I know. I get it. It’s fine.” I waved again and headed away.

Judging by the expression Duncan wore as he watched me leave, he wasn’t sure if it truly was fine. I wasn’t either.