Page 12 of Relics of the Wolf (Magnetic Magic #2)

12

I didn’t know how long it took to 3D print something, and I had plenty of work to keep me busy, but I kept glancing out windows as I waited impatiently for Bolin’s return. When my phone rang, I had my head and shoulders under the sink in B-14, the water turned off so I could replace a leaking faucet.

“Hey, Jasmine,” I answered, not bothering to crawl out of the cabinet. The fifty-something tenant worked from home doing computer stuff, so he was nearby, tapping away at his keyboard. It was probably better if my voice was a little muffled.

“Hey, Luna. Thanks for coming out yesterday. My dad is still looking stuff up, but I wanted to apologize for getting you and, uhm, your boyfriend jumped by the family. Your cousins think they run things, even though we all pay way more attention to Lorenzo and your mom.”

“It’s okay, and he’s not my boyfriend. He’s…”

“Really hot. I love that accent.”

“He’s too old for you,” I said dryly.

“I’m twenty-four. Lots of people my age date older guys. Especially older guys with sexy accents. And when he was naked, he looked really… not old.”

“Yeah, he’s fit.”

“Absolutely.” Jasmine giggled, sounding more like thirteen than twenty-four.

I pulled the new faucet out of the box on the floor.

“He’s into you though. That’s really cool. Like I told you before, we’ve only kept tabs on you from a distance, but I know your husband has been gone a while. You should totes hook up with Duncan.”

“I’ll keep that suggestion in mind.”

“Don’t pay attention to what the family thinks. You know the males get surly and territorial about anyone from another pack intruding on their territory. But that’s so dumb. The females know we need werewolves from other bloodlines to breed healthy young.”

“I’m not breeding with him.” I glared at the phone, then clamped my mouth shut as footsteps sounded.

“Sorry, just getting a pop,” the tenant said, opening the fridge.

From under the sink, I couldn’t see his face, but the way he hurried away made me think he’d caught the breeding comment. I sighed. It had been easier to keep my secret identity as a werewolf from getting out before my family had started talking to me again.

“If you did, you would have amazing young, I bet. But, anyway, that’s not why I called.”

“Thank the moon.”

Jasmine laughed. “Like I said, I wanted to apologize. I knew your mom wanted to see you, but I should have realized things weren’t over between you and Augustus, and that he wouldn’t listen to Lorenzo. He respects Lorenzo, but he’s almost challenged him for the pack a few times. You can tell. I think it’s mostly because he doesn’t want to rile up your mom that he hasn’t. Not out of any wisdom or prudence on his part.”

“He seems to lack those traits.”

“Oh, for sure.”

I suspected the only reason Augustus didn’t want to rile up my mom was that he still hoped I would die—or be killed—and he could claim that medallion for his wife. I should have asked Mom more about what it did. Something told me Augustus knew more about its powers than I did. There was little doubt that it had value, perhaps value to more than werewolves, since outsiders had risked a fight with the pack to steal it.

At least I assumed those men were working for outsiders. For the first time, as I stared up at the bottom of a sink, it occurred to me that another pack might be behind things.

I hoped Bolin showed up with my faux artifact today. I ached to bait my trap.

“I didn’t want you to think I set you up,” Jasmine said in an apologetic tone.

“I don’t. I appreciate you calling me.”

“Emilio woke up and appreciates that you brought him a salami. If you ever need a favor, I think he’ll do anything you wish.”

“And Mom didn’t think my bribe would work.”

“Oh, hang on. Dad is calling. Maybe he’s got some information.”

Jasmine switched lines for a conversation that took a while. While I waited, I finished installing the new faucet, turned the water back on, and crawled out from under the sink.

Key tapping noises from the bedroom the tenant used as an office floated to me, promising he hadn’t lurked to listen to the rest of the weird call. Good. I should have taken it outside. As I put away my tools and considered doing just that, Jasmine returned to the line.

“Are you still there, Luna?”

“Yes.”

“Have you heard of a Discord server called The Elder Kinwalkers?”

“Oddly enough, that’s come up recently, yes.”

“Dad dug into the logs and found someone named Celtic Salves and Tonics saying they were in the market for moon-touched artifacts. That’s code for werewolf artifacts. I’m sure of it. Dad thinks so too. He reached out to the poster but hasn’t heard anything back yet. He’s going to keep poking around though.”

“Okay, good. Keep me updated, will you?”

“Sure. Say hi to Duncan for me.” She giggled again. Maybe she was still imagining him naked.

The tenant leaned out of his office.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay, Jasmine?”

“Yup. Bye.”

“Sorry about that,” I told the tenant as I tucked the phone into my pocket, “but everything should be working now.”

“No problem,” he said as I turned on the new faucet to demonstrate the water flow. “Want a Mountain Dew?”

He lifted his own can of soda and gestured to the fridge.

“No, thanks.”

“Coffee?”

“I’m good.” I grabbed my tool kit, afraid he was thinking of asking me out. Considering how long I’d been a shrub to most males of the species, the last week had brought more interest in that area than I’d had in a long time. Of course, Chad’s possessive claim on me hardly counted.

“Okay. Here.” He stuffed a hand into his pocket and pulled out two crinkled twenty-dollar bills.

“Repairs are included in the rent.”

“It’s a tip.”

I lifted a hand to stave off the offering.

His forehead creased. “I usually give people tips if they come do work for me. And I buy Girl Scout cookies and Campfire chocolates. You know, for karma.”

And because he had a sweet tooth, if that Mountain Dew was any indication.

He held the twenties out. I waffled, but there didn’t seem to be any strings attached. I vaguely remembered from his lease application that he was divorced and paying child support and alimony, so he’d had to sell his house and move into the apartment. He was probably lonely. I knew the feeling.

“Okay.” I accepted the generous tip, vowing to replenish my GAS envelope. Maybe the ENTERTAINMENT envelope, too, since buying gift boxes of salami had emptied it. “Thank you.”

“Come by any time,” he said as he walked me to the door. “For coffee or pop or Pop-Tarts.”

“Pop-Tarts?”

He definitely had a sweet tooth.

“I’m not much of a chef, but I have a Darth Vader toaster.” He pointed to the black-helmeted appliance on the kitchen counter, then shrugged sheepishly. “It was a gift from my kid. We watched all the movies together when he was growing up.”

“That’s sweet.” Since I had an espresso machine with a penis drawn on the side, I couldn’t scoff at other people’s appliances, but I did not commit myself to coming by for Pop-Tarts.

Bolin knocked and stuck his head through the door when I was about to step out. “Ah ha, there you are, Luna.”

“Here I am.” I’d left a sticky note in the office with my location, so it couldn’t have been that hard to find me.

“I have something for you.” Bolin lifted a hand toward the tenant, as if to apologize for stealing me away, but his gaze snagged on the kitchen counter. “Is that a Darth Vader toaster? I almost bought the Deathstar when I got my own apartment.”

The tenant nodded. “It’s awesome, isn’t it? Do you want a Pop-Tart?”

“Yes.” Bolin bounced by me, pressing something into my hand on the way by.

“What is this?” I whispered after him.

He’d already made it to the kitchen where the tenant had opened a cupboard to pull out a Costco-size box of Pop-Tarts. Boxes of sugary cereal lined the shelf next to it. Duncan, with his smoker for making brisket, was starting to look like more of a catch. Maybe Jasmine was right.

“The item we discussed,” Bolin said.

I turned it over, not sure what to think of it. It was a little brown wood-like stump with a wolf head sticking out of the top. A hook on top implied it was an amulet or pendant to be hung on a chain, but its bulk and heft ensured it would clunk on one’s chest with every step.

“It’s made from PLA and wood dust and cork, one of the material mixes we have at home,” Bolin added in a distracted tone as he examined Darth Vader. He grinned widely when the tenant waved for him to do the honors and push the lever down.

“What’s PLA?” I asked.

“Polylactic acid, a biodegradable thermoplastic polyester plastic material.”

That was a mouthful.

“It looks like a kid’s toy.”

“Press the Celtic rune on the bottom.” Bolin waved for me to do it outside, giving a significant nod toward the tenant.

I stepped out onto the covered walkway and found the rune in the bottom of the stump. Since Bolin had made this, it probably genuinely meant something.

“The only authentic thing here,” I muttered, then rubbed the bottom. The rune wasn’t a button, only an indention in the stump. At my touch, it glowed green. “Well, I guess that’s something.”

Would it fool anyone and prompt whoever had acquired the other artifacts to send their thugs out to get it?

“We’ll find out.”