Page 6 of Relics of the Wolf (Magnetic Magic #2)

6

When I joined Duncan in the bar’s short hall, he was studying a cork board with mostly normal and innocuous things on it, though there were a few atypical items. A voodoo doll pinned to one corner, a tuft of fur with a phone number stuck to another, and paper promising free samples of Tooth and Tongue Tonic. A couple of business cards also glowed slightly.

“Did you know that other magical beings get a weird vibe from you?” I asked.

Duncan, who gripped his chin as he read the cards and notes, merely raised an eyebrow. “ I’m not the one the bartender thought was going to beat him up if he didn’t pay taxes . Your cousin is a real gem of a werewolf.”

“Werewolves in general don’t have a history of being gems . As I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, we’re driven by animal instincts and savage magic even when we’re in human form.” That was one of the reasons I’d taken that potion for so long. Not only had I deeply regretted losing myself to the savagery of the wolf and killing my first love in a fight, but I hadn’t wanted to lose my temper—my humanity —with my children. Chad’s normal human genes had ensured they didn’t have any magic themselves, no great strength or power to heal from wounds quickly, so they had only average human means of defending themselves and recovering from injuries.

“They don’t? Huh.” Duncan had avoided answering my question.

I didn’t miss it, but I didn’t press him. He was here helping me; it wasn’t as if he owed me any answers.

“Looking to hire strong men for seasonal work.” Duncan pointed at a card in the middle with those words and a number, then shrugged and pulled out his phone.

“Seasonal work, as in mugging people for their invaluable magical artifacts?”

“A druidic wolf case could make someone a lovely Christmas present.” Duncan dialed the number.

“Now that you mention it, I see things like that on the end caps at Walmart every winter.”

I perused the board further as Duncan spoke to someone who answered. He promised that he was vigorous, strong, and had a hobby of howling at the moon. Between the people speaking in the bar, laughter and cheers over pool shots, and thuds of axes landing, I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he did a lot of, “Uh-huh,” and, “I see,” finishing with, “Saturday? Okay.”

“I’m guessing that wasn’t the person who hired thugs to steal the case,” I said when he hung up.

“No, but if I want to unload a special cargo of cauldrons and other witch paraphernalia at the Port of Tacoma this weekend, the pay is $20 an hour. Having a hearty constitution is a plus. I’m guessing some of that paraphernalia might zap people handling the crates.”

“$20 an hour? You could get more than that moving boxes around in an Amazon warehouse. Zap-free boxes.”

“I’m not sure the cauldron-import business is that lucrative.” Duncan returned to reading the board. Presumably the guy on the other end of his call hadn’t sounded like he also stole and exported magical artifacts.

“This may have been a waste of time,” I reluctantly admitted after not seeing any more promising cards.

“Spending time with you, my lady, is never a waste of time.”

“I’d be flattered, but I think you are, even now, fantasizing about getting your fishing magnets and dropping them over the pier.”

“Naturally, but you’re with me in the fishing fantasies. Holding my pole.”

“You don’t use a pole.” Numerous times, I’d seen him toss his heavy cylindrical mega magnets into the water. They were attached by a rope that he used to drag them along, then haul them up with whatever the magnets attracted.

“Not for the fishing part, no.” He smiled.

“I should have known there would be flirting tonight.”

“Of course . You fed me chocolate. It’s an aphrodisiac.” Duncan opened his mouth to continue but looked past me, and his eyes widened.

A big blond man ambled into the hallway, a hand on his belt, already unfastening the clasp on the way to the bathroom. I gaped. It was the guy from the video.

He glanced indifferently at Duncan but spotted me, and his eyes widened with recognition. Other than in the video footage, I’d never seen him before, but he sure knew me.

Duncan sprang past me and toward him.

The guy cursed and ran around the corner toward the pool tables. Duncan would have caught him, but two servers with empty trays were heading toward the kitchen, and he crashed into them. I squeezed past and lunged into the main room first. Recovering, Duncan leaped out right behind me.

“Wolves!” the blond guy barked as he ran past the pool tables and toward a back door.

Instead of getting out of the way at the warning, burly men with cue sticks and throwing axes stepped into the way. They faced us, and when Duncan passed me, charging after the blond man, they deliberately blocked him. One lifted a pool stick like a baseball bat and swung.

“Look out,” I warned.

A faint tingle ran through my veins. The full moon was past, but, as I knew from the old days, danger and fury could rouse the wolf almost as well as its magical silvery beams. This wasn’t the place to change, to turn into a wild animal and possibly hurt—or kill —innocent people.

Not slowing, Duncan ducked the blow of the man swinging the pool stick. It smashed into the wall where his head had been and broke. Another guy surged into his way, blocking him like a football fullback.

Duncan roared and rammed a shoulder into the man, sending him flying. So powerful was the blow that the guy’s feet left the floor and he landed on his back on the pool table. Its stout legs shuddered under the weight.

These were big guys, and, as I crept closer, not sure how to help but wanting to, I sensed that some of them had magic about them. They weren’t werewolves, but could these be more imbibers of the Tiger Blood potion?

With one man out of the way, Duncan tried to get by again, to chase the blond guy, but the big brutes continued to block him. One did more than that; he hurled an axe at Duncan’s chest.

I cried an alarmed warning and raced in, grabbing a pool stick off a rack on the wall.

Duncan blurred as he dodged, moving so quickly that the axe didn’t even brush him. It struck the wall instead, bounced off, and landed on the floor. Another man with a pool stick in hand lifted it, aiming for Duncan’s back. With my new weapon, I surged forward and cracked him on the head.

The man staggered as the wood snapped. They did not make pool cues stout enough to handle paranormal strength.

Unfortunately, my target didn’t drop. He snarled and turned toward me, swinging his own stick. I managed to duck but felt the wind of its passing over my head.

“You dare attack a lady!” Duncan snarled and sprang onto the man’s back, his arm snaking around the guy’s neck.

“Don’t kill him!” I blurted in fear, glimpsing the utter savagery in Duncan’s brown eyes.

He had to be close to changing, but this wasn’t the wilderness where the authorities would shrug off a death caused by a wolf attack as a force of nature. That was especially true in this bar where at least half the people knew exactly what we were.

I expected Duncan, his instincts ruling him, to ignore me—or not even hear my cry—but he glanced at me. Instead of choking the man or breaking his neck, he drove a knee into the back of the guy’s thigh and hurled him sideways. Our foe smashed into the wall, then pitched to the floor, dazed.

“You okay?” Duncan asked me.

“Yes, but— Look out!” I warned again.

A man who could have tried out for the role of the Incredible Hulk shoved the pool table across the floor, demonstrating much greater than human strength as the thick legs skidded across the floorboards. That table had to weigh hundreds of pounds.

The hulk caught Duncan off-guard and managed to pin him between the table and the wall as his buddy crawled away, barely avoiding being crushed himself.

Duncan grunted as the table rammed him in the waist. The guy kept pushing at it, as if he could smash a werewolf like a bug.

Grabbing another pool cue, I moved toward him, but a couple more men crouched in the way, eyeing me with axes or fists raised. They glanced toward the back of the bar. The blond man had disappeared through the door. They seemed to be checking to make sure he’d gotten away. Damn it, he might have had the case with him. We had to finish this so we could try to catch up with him.

His back against the wall, Duncan gripped the edge of the pool table and pushed back. The tendons in his neck stood out as he growled and shoved it away, overriding the strength of the hulk. When he had space, he sprang atop the table, landing in a crouch and dodging dangling light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. Not hesitating, Duncan kicked his adversary in the face. The man spun away, not able to maintain his footing, and tumbled to the floor.

I growled, the noise far more lupine than human, and advanced with the pool cue. The two men who’d been blocking me considered me anew and decided to back away. Duncan jumped down, ready to attack further, but the hulk was crawling away on hands and knees. The rest of the men backed farther, dropping their weapons and raising their hands.

Crouched with his fingers curled, Duncan looked like he wanted to keep fighting—like the savage wolf in him wanted to keep fighting.

“The blond guy,” I reminded him.

I jogged toward the back door, keeping the pool stick in case one of the men changed his mind about letting us go. But they’d accomplished their goal of buying time for their buddy to get away. They didn’t impede us as we ran out the back door.

On the walkway, the foot traffic had dwindled, the fog thickening and muting the city lights. The mist had turned to drizzle, and the blond man wasn’t anywhere in sight.

Duncan thrust his nose upward, inhaled deeply, then ran toward the waterfront street. I couldn’t smell our enemy but would have guessed he’d gone that way, regardless. It was either that or hiding out on the pier—or jumping into the water.

I jogged after Duncan, glancing left and right, half-expecting the guy to leap out of an alcove or doorway and attack us. But all we saw were shoppers and diners meandering along the walkway. Duncan paused when we reached the street, again testing the air.

“Can you smell his trail?” I wouldn’t have doubted he had that power as a wolf—I would have also—but, even though our senses were keener than typical in human form, we lost the anatomy necessary to rival bloodhounds.

“He smelled of crushed lavender. It was noticeable.” Duncan took off along the sidewalk of the waterfront street.

I hadn’t caught a floral whiff from the guy, but Duncan had gotten closer to him than I had.

“Maybe the soap in the men’s room has that scent,” I said before remembering the man hadn’t gotten to go in. Still, I couldn’t imagine that thug carrying lavender sachets around for kicks.

“That’s possible.” Duncan slowed when he reached his parking spot.

His van had a puzzling slump to it, but it wasn’t until he cursed and crouched by a front tire that I realized why. It was flat. They were all flat.

“He let the air out?” I asked.

“The tire is slashed.” Duncan hurried around the van to check the others and groaned. “They all are.”

Alarm flashed in his eyes, and he lunged for the side door. Had he locked it when we left? I couldn’t remember and grimaced, imagining all of his fancy—and probably expensive—treasure-hunting equipment stolen or maimed.

The door was locked, and he jammed his hand into his pocket for his keys. The van was old enough to have manual locks, and it took him a moment to get in and look around.

“Nobody has been inside. That’s a relief anyway.” Duncan hopped back out and slumped against the side of the van. “What a bastard. You don’t attack someone’s woman, and you certainly don’t attack their automobile.”

“Or beat up their intern to steal their case.” I rubbed my face. “How did he even know about your van? I’m the one he recognized, and he was surprised to see me. I’m sure of it. It’s not like he was lying in wait for us.”

“No,” Duncan agreed, then returned to the sidewalk, sniffing again. But he shook his head. “I’ve lost the scent. The rain, I think. Unless…” He slipped between his van and the next car, sniffing toward the street. “Ah. I think he got a ride.”

“For a surly thug, he has a lot of buddies.”

“Indeed. Maybe we should ask them where he went.”

“You kicked one in the face and hurled another across the room. I don’t think they’ll be eager to share secrets with us.”

“ You cracked one on the head too.” Duncan still looked aggrieved about his van but managed an approving smile for me. The acknowledgment probably shouldn’t have warmed me, but it did. And I was more kindly inclined toward Duncan, as he’d put it, after he’d driven me down here and helped out. Too bad he’d ended up with his tires flattened.

“They won’t share secrets with either of us,” I said.

Eyes narrowed, Duncan looked down the pier in the direction of the bar. “Let’s try asking one of them anyway.”

“With your hand around his throat?”

“Unless you want to bribe them with chocolate bars.”

“They didn’t look like connoisseurs of fine foods.”

“So I shouldn’t bring the brisket, then?”

I shook my head. “They weren’t werewolves, right?” Even though I’d sensed people with power in the bar, mostly witch and warlock power, the bartender had been the only one with a lupine vibe. Those men might have been similar to the blond guy and taking a potion. Maybe they all took that potion.

“No.”

“They were abnormally strong though. Like our mugger.”

“I noticed when one shoved a pool table into my balls.”

“Oh, is that what he pinned? I noticed it took you a moment to recover and push the pool table back.” I eyed Duncan as we walked, again thinking about the strength that had required. I would have to consult the internet to know how many hundreds of pounds a pool table weighed, but I knew they weren’t light.

“Yes, it took me a moment to bite back an unmanly squeal of pain and gird myself sufficiently.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” The comment came out more flippantly than I meant, and in a softer tone, I repeated, “I really am sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, but thank you. My mangled balls especially thank you.”

“I hope your equipment wasn’t permanently damaged.” I smiled for his sake, thinking he might appreciate the joke. After all, he’d brought up his fishing pole earlier.

“Don’t worry. My equipment and I heal quickly.”

“That’s a relief.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“For you, I mean. I don’t have any plans involving your equipment.”

“That’s disappointing. It likes to be used.”

We reached the back door of the bar, found it locked and without a handle on that side, and had to go around to the front again. The music still played, but fewer of the tables were occupied, and the back area with the pool tables and axe- throwing alley had cleared out completely. All of the brutes were gone.

Francisco eyed us warily as we approached and waved at the broken pool sticks littering the floor. “It would have cost me less if you had come to collect taxes.”

“Sorry,” I said and reached for my purse, feeling compelled to offer to pay. But which of my budgeting envelopes would I extract the money from? It was hard to classify that experience as entertainment .

Duncan noticed me opening my purse and stopped me with a hand on my wrist. He held up a finger, withdrew a billfold, and laid a couple of hundreds on the bar top. I glimpsed more bills with large denominations inside and decided that he might make more than I’d thought selling his rusty finds.

“Who were those guys, Francisco?” Duncan asked casually. “We weren’t expecting to get jumped when we were examining the community board.”

The bartender shrugged. “They come here a lot, from up north , I hear them say sometimes. But they’re surly dicks, so I don’t talk to them. I only serve them the drink they like.” He waved to a glass at the end of the bar that hadn’t been picked up. The pink liquid inside bubbled and smoked.

“That looks like Pepto Bismol simmering on a Bunsen burner.” I couldn’t imagine wanting to drink it.

“That’s one of the ingredients.” Francisco lifted a bottle of the pink medicine off a shelf under the bar. “Then a number of powders I get from my druid supplier, and of course the tequila is what makes the medicine go down.”

“That sounds loathsome.” After hearing the rest of the ingredients, I could imagine drinking the concoction even less.

“Rue mentioned one of the side effects of that potion was stomach upset, didn’t she?” Duncan asked me quietly.

“It fixes that right up,” Francisco said. “And, if you have too much cactus juice—” he waved toward a row of tequila bottles on the shelf behind the bar, several labels not in English, “—I’ve got some hangover drinks for the morning. Stuff to help you concentrate on your spells too.” He nodded toward the Dungeons and Dragons table, though half the cloaked drinkers had disappeared during the fight. “There’s a reason this place is popular with the paranormal.”

“With Pepto Bismol mixed with tequila, how could it not be?” I muttered.

Missing or ignoring the sarcasm, Francisco nodded firmly.

Duncan and I moved away from the bar.

“I need to find somewhere to buy new tires,” he said, “in case you want to call someone for a ride home. I don’t think up north is enough to go on, as far as locating those men, or whoever hired them, so we’ll have to do more research.”

“Well, Tacoma is south, so we at least know they’re not selling their stolen magical artifacts to the person hiring cauldron unloaders.”

“Likely not, but if my van keeps getting ravaged while I’m in the area, I might have to take that gig.”

If he could move a pool table with a hulk shoving against it, lifting crates of cauldrons wouldn’t be a problem. I almost asked again about his unusual strength, but he’d already dodged that question, and he would probably continue to do so.

“It might be healthier for you and your tires if you didn’t stay in town,” I said as we walked back out into the night. “If you told Chad to F off and aren’t looking for the case anymore, what’s keeping you here?”

“A gentleman doesn’t use vulgarities or curse words when resigning from a job.”

“You should have. It’s the only language he understands. That and a punch to the nose.”

“Physical maiming is hard to deliver over the phone. I did tell him that he has a woefully inadequate tallywacker if he couldn’t come to you and bargain for access to his artifact himself.”

“Tallywacker?”

Duncan lifted his eyebrows. “You haven’t heard that term? Perhaps you’re more familiar with trouser snake. Meat puppet. Or pork sword.”

“ Pork sword ,” I mouthed, then shook my head. “Next time you talk to him, at least tell him I told him to F off. And to stuff his tallywacker up his ass.”

“Women are blunt in this country.”

“Yeah, we like our vulgarities. Especially we middled-aged, jilted women who’ve learned to fend for ourselves.”

Duncan gave me a sympathetic look. I waved my words away. I hadn’t intended to fish for sympathy.

When we returned to his van, Duncan pulled out his phone to try to find a tire place open at night. I doubted he would be able to get the problem fixed until the morning. He must have drawn the same conclusion because he opened a ride-sharing app to summon someone to pick us up.

“What’s keeping you here?” I asked again, noting how often he side-stepped answering questions.

What if his supposed conversation with Chad had never happened, and he remained on the clock for my ex? I didn’t want that to be true, but Duncan had already deceived me once.

“Aside from needing to thoroughly magic detect and magnet fish in the copious waters here, I feel I owe you. If I hadn’t accepted your ex-husband’s gig, the wolf case would remain under your floor, with no one the wiser about its existence. People wouldn’t be routinely attacking you.”

I thought about pointing out that my intern was the one who’d been attacked over the case. The rest of the trouble had been because of my cousin.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I said. “You don’t need to stick around on my behalf.”

“Wouldn’t you miss me if I were gone? Who would take you to bars where you could learn about the secret favorite drinks of potion-imbibers? If your potion ever upsets your stomach, you’ll now know where to go.”

“My stomach would have to be tying itself around my throat before I’d drink something pink and bubbling.”

“Maybe that happens to those who consume the Tiger Blood potion.”

“With its list of side effects, one wonders why they drink it,” I said. “Those men were already big and strong.”

“They were, but someone is always stronger.”

“Maybe their tiny tallywackers lead them to feel insecure.”

Duncan smiled faintly as our ride pulled up. “I knew you knew what that meant.”

“I read between the lines.”

Duncan opened a backseat door for me but didn’t step into the car himself. He waved to the driver. “He’ll take you back to your truck at the Ballard Locks.”

“You’re not coming?” I asked.

“Not unless you’re inviting me to your home for the night.” His smile widened, though he didn’t look like he expected that. “My home is, of course, here.” He looked toward the foggy water.

I snorted, sure he would do a little fishing before going to sleep in his van. “You’re too vague and irrepressible to invite home.”

“As I feared.” Still holding the door open, Duncan bowed to me. “It was a pleasure spending the evening with you, Luna. As always.”

“You must like getting into fights.”

“I do crave adventure.”

I paused, having the urge to kiss him on the cheek before leaving, but I slid into the car without taking that action. I had too many questions about him, too many reasons not to trust him. Not to let myself trust him.