Page 13 of Relics of the Wolf (Magnetic Magic #2)

13

Twilight found me in the leasing office with my finger poised over the computer’s enter key. I’d uploaded pictures of my fake artifact, showing the wolf head and the glowing rune, and used my limited photo-manipulation skills in an attempt to make the 3D-printed toy look more realistic. Usually , those skills went toward making the units for rent appear as appealing as possible.

“I feel like I’m using my talents for evil instead of good,” I muttered, twitching when someone peered in the window.

Duncan waved and held up a glass storage container with something in it. Meat?

Remembering his brisket made my mouth water. Maybe he had leftovers.

I waved for him to come in and was about to hit enter and tab to another screen so he wouldn’t see evidence of my scheme, but I paused. After hearing him speak with Chad again, did I truly think he was still working for my ex? I didn’t, but… did I want to trust him with this? I’d hoped to find and recover the artifact on my own, in case Duncan was still angling for it. It was hard to believe he was hanging around and putting this much effort into helping me all because he felt guilty over his involvement with Chad and felt he owed me.

It was possible that romantic interest, and a lack of a career that meant he had other places to be, might have him lingering, but I wasn’t arrogant enough to think I was so amazingly hot that I could motivate men to risk their lives—and deal with my belligerent family—on my behalf.

When Duncan opened the door, I hit enter on the ad I’d created. It said I would sell the supposed artifact for a hundred dollars and shared a story of how I’d inherited it from a grandparent. Once the post went live, I tabbed to another window before Duncan could see the screen.

“What’s that?” He walked in with the container and nodded toward the desk.

I snorted with the realization that even though I’d hidden the window on the monitor, the faux artifact rested next to the keyboard.

“An invaluable druidic werewolf artifact imbued with powerful magic,” I said, though the bottom of the stump only glowed for a few seconds after being touched, so it looked like a plastic toy at the moment. A polylactic-whatever toy.

Duncan picked it up. “Did it come out of a cereal box?”

My nostrils caught whiffs of meat. Not only brisket but… “Are there smoked sausages in there?”

“Andouille and chorizo. Take your pick.” Duncan put down the toy and peeled back the plastic lid.

My mouth started watering in earnest. “Those are way better than Pop-Tarts.”

“I’m going to say yes, though I don’t know what a Pop-Tart is.”

“They don’t have frosted toaster pastries in Europe?”

“They may. My werewolf genes don’t prompt me to seek out such things.”

“They crave brisket and sausages instead.”

“Certainly, my lady. Don’t yours?”

“Yeah.”

When he offered the container, the hot meats wafting their delicious scents into the air, I plucked out an entire sausage, hardly caring that I didn’t have plates or silverware in the office. There were napkins leftover from a tenant bringing a birthday cake by that summer. I grabbed some of those for each of us and waved Duncan to a seat. He perched on the edge of the other office chair while eyeing the toy.

I took a bite of the andouille, and juices ran down my chin. Delicious.

“I have a plan,” I admitted, my taste buds moving me to honesty. It was possible I was far too easily swayed by delicious meat. A werewolf failing. There was a reason salami bribes worked to win over young relatives.

“Is it better than the plan I had to run my smoker all afternoon to entice you with its scintillating smells to visit me? Because that didn’t work.”

“I don’t know if anything will come of my plan either. It’s possibly more of a scheme.”

“I was visited by three homeless people and a bunch of your tenants.”

“Did you share with them?”

“I felt obligated. There used to be a lot more sausages. What’s your plan? I assume that factors in?” Duncan waved to the toy. “I can actually sense that there’s very slight druid magic about it.”

I rubbed the rune on the bottom and showed him its glow.

“What does that do?”

“I think that’s it. Glowing. I thought that would look enticing— magical —in the photographs.” I hesitated but then tabbed back to the screen to show him the post. “I suppose the same could be done with photo-manipulation software, but if someone reaches out and wants to see it in person…”

I trailed off, feeling foolish. Seeing it in person wouldn’t convince anyone that it was real. Up close, it looked like the toy it was. The wolf head was similar in profile to the one on the case, with rows of sharp teeth on display, but I didn’t know if that was what had drawn the thief to the case in the first place. Mom’s medallion had a howling wolf on it. No teeth.

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” Duncan offered after looking at the photos and post I’d uploaded on the server that Chad had mentioned, as well as in other spots I’d heard of before or found through research.

“You sound like you’re being politely supportive but don’t think this has a shot of working.”

“I am politely supportive. That’s why I brought you sausages.”

“I’m not sure what else I can try if this doesn’t work.”

“Touring lavender farms in northern Snohomish County?” Duncan raised his eyebrows.

“They don’t offer tours in November. Or have flowering lavender.” I shook my head, still skeptical that the thug traipsed through flower fields daily and that was where the scent had come from.

The phone in the leasing office rang, an avocado-green rotary model that was older than I was. The owners of the complex kept saying they would replace it with something modern when it stopped working, but it had proven resilient.

“You didn’t put your name and number in the posting, did you?” Duncan asked as I reached for the phone.

I hesitated. “Not my name , but I did need a phone number someone could call. And the phone needed to be close by so I’d hear it ring.” I answered, worried I’d done the wrong thing, since whoever had researched me enough to know where my family lived probably knew the number for the complex too. Maybe I’d made a mistake. “Sylvan Serenity Housing.”

Duncan waited with his eyebrows raised.

“We do have some availability, yes,” It was a perfectly mundane call that had nothing to do with magical artifacts. “A couple of two-bedrooms and one three. Yes, dogs from most breeds are allowed.”

“And wolves,” Duncan whispered with a smirk.

I held my finger to my lips, gave the rest of the requested information, and made an appointment for the person to come see the units.

“We do require at least a 650 credit score,” I said. That was on the website and in all the ads, but people tended to think it didn’t apply to them.

The prospective tenant didn’t cancel the appointment, so I put her in the calendar for the following day.

“Ah, the credit score,” Duncan said, “a rather unique American invention that rewards a person for going deeper and deeper in debt.”

“While making the payments in a timely manner each month.” That was what my employers cared about.

“You’d think a more ideal tenant would be one who pays in cash for items and doesn’t have any debt.”

“We’re okay with those people too.” Given my own bruised history with debt, I enjoyed leasing to those who’d also clawed their way out. “You just can’t be in debt and behind on payments. Are you debt-free, Duncan Calderwood?”

“Of course.”

“You should have mentioned that when you first asked me out. After being married to a deadbeat who took out loans I didn’t know about and stole the kids’ college money, I’m particularly attracted to men who can make ends meet without credit cards.”

“I guessed that from the envelopes.” Duncan grinned. “But I didn’t think you would be wooed by the finances of someone who lives in his van. You were somewhat snide about the idea of me making a living as a treasure hunter.”

“I was snide about the rusty forks and forty-year-old bike locks. Had you pulled golden chalices out of Lake Washington, I might have believed your career had more financial stability.”

“Gold isn’t magnetic.”

“Ah, so the chalices are down there, and you just don’t have the right tools?”

“I have all the right tools. Trust me.” His eyelid shivered in what I took as a wink, though it was subtle, and I wasn’t positive that was a sexual innuendo. It probably was.

I was debating on an appropriately snarky response when the phone rang.

“Sylvan Serenity Housing.” Again, I kept myself from including my name, as I usually would. Just in case.

“Is this the owner of the wolf artifact?” a man with a raspy voice asked.

The hair on the back of my neck rose.

“This is Janette, yes,” I said, using the name I’d put in the ad.

“I’m an interested buyer, but I need to see it in person.”

“Of course.”

With his keen ears, Duncan probably heard both sides of the conversation. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his hip against the desk.

“Are the batteries included?” the caller asked.

I blinked. What?

“Uh, I don’t think there are batteries. Oh, are you asking because of the glow? I’m not quite sure what that is but probably some phosphorescent paint.” I imagined Bolin being aggrieved at the suggestion that his druid enchantment was something so pedestrian.

“I see.” Did the speaker sound more interested? “I see,” he repeated. Yes, he sounded eager, almost triumphant. “Where may I view it?”

Duncan shook his head. Warning me not to invite the guy here? No, I couldn’t even if I’d wanted to fight on my home turf. If this was the man who employed the blond thug, the blond thug who’d already been here, he would know it was a set-up.

“The convenience store on Bothell Way by the teriyaki restaurant,” I said.

That was close to where Duncan and I had gone for our first date, a date of fine dining and battling my cousin’s wolf and mongrel-dog minions. If we had to fight again, we were both familiar with the area. I assumed that he would come with me.

“I get off work at eight,” I added into the silence.

“Let me see what I can arrange.”

“If you like what you see, it’s a hundred dollars.”

“That item isn’t worth more than fifty.”

“It’s worth a hundred alone for the glow,” I countered, figuring I should haggle. It would be suspicious if I was willing to give away such a fine find.

“The phosphorescent paint,” the man said dryly.

“It’s nice paint. And I’m willing to drive over there to show it to you.”

“I could come to you,” the man said. His raspy voice already made him sound creepy, but that added to it.

“The store is good. And my boyfriend will be with me, just FYI. He’s a karate blackbelt and a body builder.”

Duncan raised his eyebrows.

The caller chuckled, not sounding concerned.

“Eight o’clock tonight.” He hung up.

“Do you think that worked?” I worried it had been too easy. That guy had to have been monitoring those sites if he’d pounced so quickly.

“I’m not certain.” Duncan looked at the time on his phone. “I am concerned that I only have three hours to learn the skills of a karate blackbelt.”

“What makes you think you’re filling the role of my boyfriend?”

“Of course I am. You’ve been aching for me since I told you I don’t have any debt.”

“So almost ten minutes.”

“Yup.” He smiled, but it faded as he considered the toy. “That did seem easy and… unlikely.”

“Do you think we should bring more backup?” If the thugs were lying in wait and had rifles loaded with silver bullets, having another werewolf along might not be enough. Worse, I could get Duncan shot.

“Do you have more backup?”

“Uhm, I could call Bolin. Or the ladies in my book club. One of them has knitting needles like fencing rapiers.”

“You could call your family.” Maybe that was who he’d had in mind in the first place.

“Oh.” I grimaced at the thought of asking my sick mom for help. And the males of the pack… Other than Lorenzo and the injured Emilio, there weren’t many prospects who might assist me. “If someone with silver bullets shows up, I don’t want to get more werewolves into trouble. Besides, I’m not sure who among them I could trust to help.”

“I guess it’s the two of us then.” Duncan picked up the toy with a bemused smile and examined it.

“And the knitting lady if I call her.”

“I think we can handle it. What shall we do to kill time until eight?”

“I have another leaky faucet to replace.” I waved to a box sitting on the desk. “The tenant works the evening shift so I was waiting for him to head out before going over.”

His eyes crinkled. “Can I help?”

“I’m still waiting for you to rake the leaves out there,” I said, though I’d done that myself when the forecast for winter weather had come. It was much easier to rake leaves when they weren’t covered with snow.

“Ah, yes, I remember you assigning me that duty.”

He hadn’t done it, though, since that had been right before I’d overheard him speaking to Chad on the phone the first time—the time I’d believed it a great betrayal. After that, I’d driven him off.

“As I recall,” he added, “you were enticed by the idea of me doing it shirtless.”

“As I recall, it was Grammy Tootie I promised would be enticed by that.”

I grabbed the faucet and headed for the door. There was time to complete the task, and I felt obligated to finish everything on my workday to-do list before taking off to attempt to hunt artifact thieves. That was, after all, the kind of thing one did after hours.

Duncan followed me out of the office, but I paused before taking more than two steps. Three matte-black Teslas were rolling into the parking lot, the license plate lights dark so they weren’t legible. I sensed magic about the vehicles—or maybe in those riding inside—and my instincts reared up, warning of danger.

“It’s those men again,” Duncan said, though he couldn’t have seen through the tinted windows. He pulled me into bushes to the side of the walkway. “The man on the phone might have seen through your ruse and been calling to verify that you were here.”

“Then that saves us the trip of having to drive to Bothell,” I said with determination.

If the blond thug was one of the people in those cars… This time, I would catch him and question him.

The Teslas stopped, and two windows rolled down enough for the muzzles of rifles to stick out.

“Silver bullets,” Duncan warned, his grip tightening on my shoulder. “Get down.”

How he could be certain, I didn’t know, but I didn’t want to be shot with any type of bullet, so I let him push me lower and behind a garbage can that would offer more cover than the bushes. Two more muzzles appeared, bringing the total number of rifles to four.

One of the car doors opened, but the interior was dark, and we couldn’t identify who was inside. Not by sight, at least. Duncan, crouched close beside me, inhaled sharply. Maybe he could smell the occupants.

“Get inside, girl,” someone called through the open door. “Come with us, or we’ll shoot up this place and kill your tenants.”

Duncan stirred. “They didn’t come for an artifact. They came for you.”