Page 24 of Relics of the Wolf (Magnetic Magic #2)

EPILOGUE

The pressure washer rumbled on a low setting as I perched on the two-story roof of one of the buildings in Sylvan Serenity and sprayed moss off the shingles. In the Pacific Northwest, moss was as ubiquitous as mold. Early that summer, I’d applied a chemical that was supposed to retard its growth, but the stuff here thumbed its fuzzy green nose—inasmuch as moss had a nose—at the various solutions I tried every year.

“Maybe Bolin has a potion that could address this.” Alas, it would take gallons and gallons of a potion to handle the roofs on all the buildings. I imagined him standing over a cauldron with a mixing paddle the size of an oar and decided he was unlikely to do that in his apartment. “Or a spell.”

Letting the moss guide me, I climbed to the apex of the roof. It was not , I told myself, so I could check on the parking lot again but only because I needed to clean both sides.

Duncan’s van remained in the same spot it had been before we’d driven up to Arlington. It had been three days since our battle there—since I’d had to battle him there. Even though I believed he belonged to Abrams now, I couldn’t help but hope he would find a way to escape.

The thought of not seeing him again—or of having him arrive as a mind-controlled enemy—was distressing. I’d just started to like him. No, that wasn’t true. I’d liked him more than I should have from the beginning. But I’d started to trust him. That meant everything, but now…

“Luna?” came a query from the walkway below. It sounded like Bolin.

I turned off the noisy pressure washer and picked my way to the edge, glad the weather had warmed and the roof wasn’t slick. We’d had a couple of clear days, with more sun predicted, so I’d taken the opportunity to get this task out of the way.

Bolin stood at the corner of the building, eyeing one of the downspouts spurting out water and bits of removed moss.

“It’s the weekend,” I said. “You don’t have to be here, do you?”

Usually, he showed up from eight to five on weekdays, as if this were a normal job. For an intern, it was. For me… Well, it kept me busy most of the time. Especially when my personal life added to the maintenance load. I’d spent the last two days cleaning up the crashed in, died in, and otherwise maligned parking lot. I’d been appalled by the price of a new cluster mailbox. The post office had told me to get stuffed when I’d gone down there and implied it was USPS property and that they should replace it. Of course, I didn’t have to pay for the expenses out of my pocket, but I tried to keep the business’s bills down—and make as few insurance claims as possible.

I looked toward the parking lot, twitching in surprise at the blue Mercedes SUV that had arrived since the last time I checked. Bolin’s auto was ensconced in… I wasn’t sure what to call it. Some kind of transparent protective bubble.

“Guess that’s one way to fend off bird poop,” I muttered.

Bolin followed my gaze, looking a little smug, but answered my question instead of commenting on his new solution. “Some potential tenants made appointments with me yesterday. When you were battling the post office.”

“I could have handled the weekend showings.”

Bolin hesitated. “The redhead was really cute.”

“Ah.” I debated if using one’s job as a property manager was an appropriate way to meet girls, but I didn’t think any business ethics books mentioned it. It wasn’t as if he was a psychiatrist—or psychiatrist’s intern—trying to hook up with vulnerable women coming in for therapy. “This place was in the news, I understand. We’re lucky potential tenants haven’t been scared away.”

“They’re actually coming because of the news story. Well, more the social-media speculation about werewolves being involved. There were some videos that made it onto the internet…”

I winced, imagining my furry black ass all over one of those sites of video clips. Since nobody had confronted me about it, I assumed—at least hoped —there wasn’t any footage of Duncan and me changing. Someone might have witnessed it, however, if tales of werewolves had arisen.

Bolin was gazing up at me, his eyes too knowing for my tastes. I’d liked it better when he hadn’t believed in werewolves.

“That’s a draw?” I asked.

“Apparently so. Some people are big fans of werewolves.”

I thought of my ex and grimaced.

“Some people believe that they can find one, ask to be bitten, and become werewolves themselves, and that they’d then be much more badass than they are as humans.”

“Huh.” I didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“If werewolves existed,” Bolin said slowly, watching me, “they wouldn’t really be able to do that, right?”

“Not anymore.”

Judging by his disturbed expression, that might not have been the answer he wanted. It was good that I hadn’t added on that at least one werewolf in existence in this century might be able to do that.

A sporty red Mustang pulled into the lot, heading for one of the guest spots.

“I think that’s her.” Bolin straightened his shirt and scraped his fingers through his hair. “ Them , I mean.”

Two twenty-something women got out of the car, and he hustled over to give them a tour of the available units and perform whatever awkward flirting he could manage. I didn’t worry about my collegiate spelling-bee champion being inappropriate in any way.

I was about to start the pressure washer again when movement near Duncan’s van caught my eye. No, in his van.

Either someone had broken into it, or he’d returned.

Nerves battered my gut. Abandoning my task, I hurried to the ladder and descended. As I reached the ground, the side door in the van slid open, and someone with wavy salt-and-pepper hair hopped out. It was Duncan.

Wary, I paused. Was he here under Abrams’s control?

With his back to me, Duncan rummaged under the bed in his van. Werewolves under bad-guy control didn’t rummage , did they? He started whistling cheerfully.

My wariness faded, and a relieved goofy grin may have sprawled across my face as I headed in his direction.

Bolin was leading the women toward the nearest building—okay, the redhead was cute—as I passed them. His eyes widened at my expression, and he paused to look toward Duncan’s van.

“Are you sure you two aren’t dating?” he called after me.

I only lifted a hand in a vague wave of acknowledgment because Duncan had turned at the words, and my relief grew stronger. Relief and pleasure , though that was probably the last thing I should have felt after he’d tried to kill me.

No, he’d been magically commanded to kill me. Or so I assumed.

He was in his handsome human form now and smiled at my approach. The scar on his forehead no longer glowed.

“You’re here,” I blurted, coming to a stop in front of him.

A few faint bruises darkened his jaw, and he looked stiff when he withdrew something long and narrow and wrapped in cloth—was that velvet ?—from his van. But, otherwise, he appeared to have healed in the last couple of days. Of course, his clothing could have hidden much. I distinctly remembered biting him in his thigh.

“I’m here.” Duncan looked me up and down. “Are you okay? I worried when I was…”

“Captured? Imprisoned? Suborned?” I rolled my shoulders. The wounds I’d received were healing, but I was stiffer than normal too.

“It’s kind of a blur, but I collapsed in that courtyard and was out for a while.” He didn’t mention Abrams standing in front of him with that device. “I woke up naked in a ditch outside of Smokey Point.”

I blinked. “They dumped you? Are you certain?”

“I’m certain about the ditch. That’s about it.”

“But I thought.” My gaze drifted to his scar again. “After the scientist, uhm, took you over…”

Duncan winced.

I held up an apologetic hand. “Nothing that happened was your fault.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, but I… I wasn’t expecting what we got that night. That’s for certain.”

“Even grenades and lock picks can’t prepare you for being taken over by a mad scientist.”

“A mad scientist I had assumed dead these past thirty years, yes. After I woke up in the ditch, it took me a couple of days to recover enough to walk back here. I didn’t have my phone or clothes or anything. I still don’t have my phone.”

“You may need to spend my gas money on one of those instead of micro diamonds.”

“What’s on the dash wouldn’t buy the power button, but I’m fine financially.” Duncan waved dismissively, his expression saying that money wasn’t his problem.

I might have been envious, but he was a man who’d just learned he had a more profound issue to deal with. Why hadn’t Radomir and Abrams kept him? To use like the rest of their minions?

Reluctantly, I admitted that just because Duncan was free didn’t mean he wasn’t, or couldn’t become, one of their minions again. They might have released him into the wild, knowing he would return to me, on purpose.

A grim thought. I was glad I’d warned Mom that there might be more trouble.

“I’ll get a new phone soon,” Duncan said, “but I needed to come here first. To make sure you’re okay and to apologize profusely to you. And also…” He glanced at the Roadtrek. “To thank you for not having my van towed.”

“I was thinking of selling it.”

He leaned back and clutched a hand to his chest.

“Only if you didn’t come back,” I hurried to say. “All that stuff inside looks valuable. It might be able to help me along with my goal of buying a four-plex.” I considered the expensive-looking SCUBA gear and other equipment and electronics. “Maybe even two fourplexes.”

“So you’re saying you would have grieved vastly and longly over my passing.”

“Longly? Is that a legitimate form of that word?” I looked to see if Bolin was nearby, but he’d accompanied the ladies into one of the units.

“Of course . I’ve read many a book, remember? It’s from Old English. There’s also a similar word, longlice . It means at length or for a long time.”

“Goodness. You may need to chat up my intern.”

“He doesn’t interest me as much as you. And he’s not who I came to apologize to. And offer gifts to.”

“You didn’t bring lavender perfume, did you?”

Before we’d had our adventure, I hadn’t minded the scent, but I didn’t want anything to do with it now, especially not anything from that company.

“Ah, no. Those who cast me into that ditch didn’t toss any in with me.”

“That’s rude. What if you’d woken up smelling foul and needed a little perfume?”

“There was rainwater in the ditch that kept me washed. It was, however, chilly.” His grimace and the brief haunted expression in his eyes were the only indications that he’d been miserable.

I wished I’d known where he’d been dumped so I could have retrieved him. Had he walked all the way back here while cold, naked, and injured? Thirty miles or more?

“I’m encouraged that you’re not shooting at me,” Duncan said quietly, watching my face.

“I don’t have a gun.”

“That being the only reason for your restraint? However inadvertently, I betrayed you again.”

“I gathered your big furry body was used against your wishes.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it’ll happen again?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know what Abrams is doing or why he let me go, but I’m afraid that, now that he knows I still live, he may want to use me again. And you did take back the artifacts that they stole from you.”

“Thus ensuring they’ll continue to think of me as an enemy?”

“Or a tool. That is what I was to Abrams.”

I lapsed into silence, not sure how to continue the conversation. Since Duncan had admitted he might be forced to attack me again, I should have asked him to walk out of my life and not return. If he were off treasure hunting in the Southern Hemisphere somewhere, he wouldn’t be a threat, especially if his lord scientist remained here. Why that guy had set up camp in the Pacific Northwest with Radomir, I couldn’t guess, but they clearly had plans involving werewolves.

“You mentioned gifts?” I asked instead of requesting that Duncan drive off in his van and never return.

His face brightened. “I did. After a man wrongs a woman, gifts are required. In many cultures.”

“In all, I should think. It’s just right.”

“Quite. Hold out your hands, please.” Duncan had set down the velvet-wrapped item while we’d spoken, but he plucked it up now. He rested it across my arms, then held up a finger to indicate there would be more. He drew out a gift-wrapped box of truffles, then a stack of dark-chocolate bars wrapped with a ribbon. The one on top said…

“ Lavender- raspberry dark chocolate?”

“Yes. To make you laugh. There are other flavors that might be of more interest. One on the bottom is dusted with ground espresso.”

“That sounds promising.”

“The ideal way to start the morning.” Duncan plucked another box out of the van, the gold ribbon and wrapping as fancy as the contents. “Dark-chocolate-covered bacon strips.”

“Yum.”

“And one more.” He withdrew another box, this one clear, allowing a view of the item inside. A caramel apple dipped in dark chocolate and nuts and drizzled with white-chocolate sauce.

I might have started salivating a bit at that one. Apples weren’t traditional wolf treats, but my human taste buds had always enjoyed a crisp, tart Granny Smith.

Duncan placed it on top of the pile. “I would eat the apple first while it’s fresh.”

“Where did you get all this stuff if you had to walk naked back from Smokey Point?”

“There’s a factory outlet mall on the way. I’m not sure why candy would be considered something from a factory, especially when the shops appeared to make it fresh there, but several occupied the mall. For the female proprietor at one, my nudity wasn’t a problem. She even took pity on me and gave me a canvas tarp to wear.”

“Sexy. Do you still have it?”

“I do.” He waved into the van. “And now that I’ve been reconnected with my funds, I’ll send her money to pay for her wares. I try not to accept charity when there are others who need it more.”

I eyed his bruises and thought of the scientist who could control him against his will. “You may need at least a little charity.”

“Possibly.” Duncan waved to the velvet-wrapped item. “That’s the most important gift. I found it years ago and could never bring myself to sell it. A part of me may have one day foreseen the need for it.”

Curious, I handed him the sweets and unwrapped the larger gift.

“A sword? A magical sword?” I could sense power within it and held it out, considering the bejeweled hilt and engraved blade. Were those Celtic runes? I would have to ask Bolin. For all I knew, it was Swahili.

“It came out of a lake in Ireland.”

Probably not Swahili then.

“It isn’t rusty at all,” I said.

Not even begrimed. Duncan must have painstakingly cleaned it if it had been in the lake since a time when swords had been carried regularly in the world.

“It was in surprisingly good condition when I found it. Freshwater, in general, isn’t as corrosive as seawater, and I think the magic in it is protective. I had a specialist look at it, and he said the alloy was also atypical.” Duncan held my gaze and said with significance, “It has silver in it.”

I met his eyes. “Are you giving me the means to…”

“Kill me if I’m forced to come after you again. Yes.”

Even in my wolf form, I hadn’t been strong enough to defeat him, not when he’d been the bipedfuris.

“I’d prefer not to do that,” I said.

Duncan offered a lopsided smile that took the seriousness from his eyes. “I’d prefer you not need to do that.”

“Yet you’re giving me a silver sword.”

“Just in case.”

“Okay.” I set the gifts aside and hugged him.

“Ah.” He returned the embrace and rested his chin on my shoulder. “This is nice. Also the fact that my van hasn’t been towed or salvaged for saleable items.”

“I’ve been too busy to call a pawn broker in to appraise its contents.”

“Too busy… cleaning the roofs?”

“My work is demanding, yes.”

“Do you want some help?” Duncan looked toward the pressure washer on the roof. “I could hold your hose.”

“That sounds kinky. And I think I’m supposed to offer to hold your hose.”

“True. Maybe I should simply sit up there, look pretty, and hand you chocolates while you work.”

“Now that sounds appealing.”

THE END

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to continue on with the series, the next adventure is Kin of the Wolf (Magnetic Magic, Book 3).