Page 1 of Triumph of the Wolf (Magnetic Magic #6)

“I have three interviews next week and a job offer I don’t know if I want to take.

” My niece’s voice came through tinny over the speaker of my phone, which balanced precariously on a landscaping boulder while I raked up sodden needles and broken branches.

“It doesn’t sound meaningful, fulfilling, or like it’ll enhance my skills for my résumé. ”

“Doesn’t pay enough for you to move out of your parents’ backyard, huh?” I tossed pine boughs into the cart I’d driven onto the lawn.

Sun beamed from the morning sky, but a wicked windstorm the night before had left debris all over the grounds of Sylvan Serenity Housing.

Most of the time, I appreciated how much verdant acreage the apartment complex sprawled across, especially given its suburban Shoreline location near the busy freeway. This was not one of those times.

“Not even close,” Jasmine said. “I’d make more pouring coffee drinks at the bikini-barista espresso stand.”

“Those girls earn a lot for standing in the damp Seattle climate while so scantily clad. You can’t expect a job that competes with that.”

“I’m halfway to a master’s degree and have been working in the field with my mom for almost ten years.”

“I’ve heard they can make six figures in tips alone.”

“Oh, please.” After hesitating, Jasmine asked, “That’s not true, is it? Because if it is, I may need to rethink my job hunt. I’m trying to prove myself to the world through my great work ethic and the power of my brain, but… I’m super hot in a bikini.”

“I have no doubt.” Lower back sore, I stood straight to massage it. “But I’m not actually sure what they make. Oddly, I’m not compelled to visit their establishments that often. I’m more drawn to…” Movement in the woods bordering the property caught my eye. Leaves stirring. In the wind?

“Scantily clad penises?”

“If they’re attached to charming, intelligent men who make me feel good about myself, yes.”

“How is Duncan? There’s a rumor going around the pack that he might put himself forward as a candidate to be our next alpha.

Lorenzo is pretty old, and the young upstarts are always talking about challenging him.

But I doubt they’d challenge someone who can turn into an old-school, two-legged werewolf with superpowers.

And did your mother give him that magical medallion that the male alphas in the pack historically wore? ”

Focused on the woods, I only half heard my niece. Though I was more than a hundred yards from the trees, I thought I sensed someone out there. Someone with magical blood.

Had the pack sent a relative to spy on me? Or on Duncan? Or, more likely, had Lord Abrams—pissed off that we’d killed his scheming business partner, Radomir—sent spies? Or potion-enhanced thugs with rifles loaded with magical silver bullets that could kill werewolves such as me?

“Aunt Luna?” Jasmine prompted.

I picked up the phone and leaned my rake against the boulder.

“Yes, I’m still here. Duncan hasn’t said anything to indicate he craves leadership of the pack—I’m not sure he even likes anyone he’s met in the pack besides me.

As for the medallion, he’s borrowing it while we deal with our mutual challenges. ”

As I focused on the woods, I grew more and more certain that the being out there had a lupine aura. Another werewolf.

“I have a visitor,” I said. “Let me call you back.”

Gardening tools set aside, I grabbed the magical sword sheathed in the cart next to the branches.

It had been a gift from Duncan, one I’d recently recovered from Radomir’s lair.

Technically, it had been in his armored SUV with him, a vehicle that my truck and I had a lot of reasons to hate.

Fortunately, the SUV was as mangled as Radomir’s body, last seen at the bottom of a ravine along a remote mountain road.

Now armed, I strode across the lawn toward the woods. Nothing moved among the trees, aside from a few bare branches and fir needles stirred by a breeze, but I continued to sense a werewolf. Someone watching me.

Halfway to the woods, I halted, now close enough to recognize the aura.

“Lykos?” I asked, the face of the eight-year-old boy who happened to be Duncan’s clone brother popping into my mind.

Maybe his presence shouldn’t have surprised me.

He’d been here once before, just a few days earlier.

Duncan had gone out to attempt to befriend him, but that hadn’t been fruitful.

From what I’d heard, the kid had hidden in the woods while Duncan tried to lure him out and explain his hobbies of metal detecting and magnet fishing.

Duncan had mentioned wanting to practice being paternal in case he was ever inspired to partake in parenthood, but a half-feral werewolf kid wasn’t the easiest subject to father.

My senses told me Lykos was backing away. Maybe he’d wanted to spy without being noticed.

Well, that was too bad. I didn’t want to be spied on, not by some vengeful scientist’s pawn.

Since Abrams was the one who’d created the kid, and who’d presumably been housing and feeding him, Lykos might have come because his master had ordered it.

I looked toward the parking lot, thinking Duncan would be the logical one to deal with our visitor, but his modified Roadtrek camper van wasn’t there.

“I’ll have to confront him myself.”

I contemplated finding an evergreen bush to undress behind, turning into a wolf, and going out to challenge Lykos, but Duncan hadn’t given up on befriending the kid.

And I had no reason to hold a grudge against him either.

The last time we’d faced off, Lykos had realized I was bigger and stronger than he, at least for now, and he’d fled.

Though I kept the sword, I detoured to my apartment for another type of weapon.

Since I hadn’t purchased any salami logs lately—it had been a while since I’d felt the need to bribe the young werewolves in my family—there weren’t any in the fridge, but I did have some sandwich meat.

As a semi-carnivorous type myself, I was rarely without such staples.

I peeled a number of slices of salami from a package and walked back out to the woods.

A mossy stump just past the property line—where my landscaping obligations ended—was flat enough to serve as a table.

Aware of the kid watching—I couldn’t see him, but I continued to sense him since he had an aura as powerful as Duncan’s—I laid out the pieces.

The pungent scent of cured meat wafted up to my nose, making me aware that the lunch hour approached. Nobly, I resisted the urge to eat the salami myself.

About forty feet away, a head leaned out from behind a tree. With tousled brown hair, curious brown eyes, and a lean face with less baby fat than one would expect in a kid that age, Lykos looked exactly like what he was: a young version of Duncan.

I waved at the salami, trying to indicate that he could have it without any strings attached, and backed up. Realizing the sword had to make me look threatening—more like I was baiting a trap than providing a friendly offering—I leaned it against a tree.

“I’m expecting Duncan before long,” I called over the rumble of nearby freeway traffic. “He’d like to see you. He’s curious about you. Are you curious about him?”

The kid blinked a couple of times. Thus far, I hadn’t heard him speak and wondered if he was verbal at all. Might being raised by Abrams have traumatized him? Kept him from learning to speak?

“It didn’t traumatize Duncan ,” I muttered.

Well, that wasn’t fair. It probably had , but by fifty years old, he’d had time to get over his childhood—and learn to be exceedingly garrulous. Still, the shackle scars on his wrists were a reminder of his past.

“He’s pretty fun to hang out with too,” I called, groping for ways to entice the kid to establish a relationship with Duncan.

And to come over to our side. Abrams wasn’t worth working for, damn it.

“Did you ask him to show you all his magnets and what they can do? He’s got a huge collection for a guy who lives in a van. ”

“Uhm,” came a man’s voice from behind me. “Are you the property manager?”

I spun, grabbing the sword. Because of the traffic noise, I hadn’t heard anyone approaching.

A man with a large digital camera around his neck and a drone in his arms skittered back, almost tripping over his heels in the damp grass. He fumbled the drone but didn’t drop it.

“Sorry,” he blurted. “But the kid in the leasing office said I should talk to you about… er.” He eyed the sword. “ Are you the property manager?”

“Yeah.” Behind me, I sensed Lykos slinking away. “I’m head of security too.”

As if that would explain me waving around a sword in a twenty-first-century Seattle suburb.

I lowered it to appear non-threatening, though my hackles wanted to rise up when I realized who this was.

He’d been here once before to take photos of the property for the real estate listing.

As I was reminded every day, my employers were trying to sell Sylvan Serenity, my home and place of employment for more than twenty years.

“What can I do for you?” I kept my tone level, not bleak and full of distress at the reminder that I needed to join Jasmine in seeking a new job.

Going to one networking event that had resulted in me turning into a werewolf to battle the host’s werewolf sister in his bedroom closet... probably didn’t count as job hunting.

“The Sylvans want some new photos of the grounds and of a unit I guess you just cleaned but that is still vacant. I didn’t realize the storm yesterday had brought down so many branches though.

Is there any chance someone will be by to tidy up in the next hour or so?

” He looked toward the cart I’d already filled with branches.

If he thought it was a mess now, he should have been here at dawn when I’d started.

Given how many boughs had come down near the parking lot, the tenants were lucky none of their cars had been taken out.

We had a lot of tall old trees in the Seattle area, and I’d seen them snap in windstorms and flatten cars, gazebos, and even houses.

“ I’m cleaning the grounds,” I said, “and I’ll get it done as soon as possible. Why don’t you take a lunch break and come back?”

Or take a lunch break and don’t come back, I thought.

Unfortunately, there were already a number of great-looking photos of the place, and the listing had prompted a lot of interest. Since an apartment complex of this size had a limited buyer pool—not many people could scrounge up millions and millions of dollars to pay what it was worth—it wouldn’t sell overnight, but I had little doubt that it would sell.

“How long do you think it will take?” He looked at my sword as if to imply I’d been screwing around instead of working.

I bared my teeth at him, not hiding my extra pointy canine— lupine —teeth, and contemplated using the blade to give him a buzz cut.

Eyes widening, he skittered back and fumbled his drone again. “Never mind. Take your time. I’ve got another property I can do first. I’ll come back this afternoon.” He eyed my teeth. “ Late afternoon.”

I kept myself from telling him not to come back at all.

Barely. As a dutiful employee, I would do my best, as I always did.

Though I sometimes wondered what it would be like to work for myself and be my own boss.

I looked forward to the day when I had enough money saved for the down payment on a four-plex and could live in one unit, rent the others, and have the tenants to pay off the mortgage…

until the debt was gone and I could retire on the income.

As I traded the sword for the rake, my phone rang.

The name that popped up on the screen made me groan. Chad Schneider. My ex-husband.