Page 5 of Way of the Wolf (Magnetic Magic #1)

5

When I turned into the unassuming teriyaki restaurant, the Roadtrek wasn’t in the parking lot. I poked into the envelope in my purse labeled ENTERTAINMENT to make sure I had sufficient funds. Duncan had offered to pay, but I had no intention of putting out, or whatever he expected, and would make that clear by covering my own meal. Assuming he showed up.

After waiting a few more minutes, I wondered if Duncan had gotten lost or decided I wasn’t worth the effort. The latter seemed unlikely since he’d been so persistent about asking me to dinner. For reasons known only to him. I was attractive enough that persistent men weren’t puzzling, but such attention wasn’t as frequent as it had been twenty years earlier.

Minutes passed, and the van didn’t show. I watched a couple enter the front door and debated if I wanted to pay for takeout if Duncan didn’t arrive. Back home, I had leftovers that I could eat.

The door opened again, and the smells of grilled chicken and beef wafted out. My stomach rumbled, answering the debate for me.

When I got out of my truck, I spotted Duncan’s van. It was parked across the street and halfway down a side road leading to the lake. And was that Duncan out on a dock by those condos? Half-shrouded by the fog creeping in from the water?

I rolled my eyes, wishing I’d asked for his number so I could text him to get his ass over here. Maybe he’d thought I would spend an hour putting on makeup. As if I was going to dress to the nines for dinner with a strange werewolf at a teriyaki joint.

During a lull in traffic, I jogged across busy Bothell Way. His back to me, Duncan heaved something on a rope out into the lake. The giant magnet he’d spoken of? Maybe that hadn’t been a euphemism. Or not only a euphemism.

Whistling cheerfully, he reeled the rope in hand-over-hand.

I walked out on the dock, and he grinned over his shoulder at me, as if he’d known where I was all along.

“I’ve got a big one,” he called.

That prompted me to roll my eyes again. “Is this how you’re planning to pay for dinner?”

“You never know.” Duncan leaned over the railing, whatever he’d caught right below him now. Something heavy made his muscles flex under his jacket as he pulled it up.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to fish coins out of a fountain?”

“Oh, it’s rarely coins you find, especially in this country, where none of the currency is magnetic.” Duncan tugged a large metal frame covered in seaweed, rust, and slime out of the water. It was attached to a cylindrical magnet several inches thick.

“Is that a bicycle?”

“Looks like it is. Not much value there, alas. I’ve found lockboxes before with jewelry and silver coins inside.”

“I imagine it’s exceedingly common for people to hurl their valuables into lakes.”

“Well, it happens. Sometimes, there are wrecked ships full of goodies. This lake connects with Puget Sound and eventually the Pacific Ocean, doesn’t it? ”

“Through the ship canal, yeah, but I’m not aware of a lot of sea battles that took place in Lake Washington during the various wars.”

“More than battles can wreck a ship.” Duncan laid the bike frame on the dock and pulled with both hands to detach it from his magnet—that thing had a seriously strong pull. Other smaller items clung to it as well. He tugged off a fork and held it aloft, as if it were a great prize.

“That’s not going to pay for dinner.”

“You don’t think this missing cutlery may have belonged to your restaurant? They could be eager to have it returned.”

“The cutlery there is plastic.”

“So it’s a fine-dining establishment.”

“Yup, just as my fancy tastes require.”

Duncan pulled off a couple of rusty nails and tossed them into a garbage can ten feet away. He had good aim.

“Ah!” He slipped what might have been a coin into his pocket. It was so covered in grime that it was hard to tell.

“That one was metallic?”

“A Dutch guilder. Pre-euro era. They are metallic, yes. Your lake must have had a European visitor.” Duncan hefted the magnet out into the lake again, the splash muffled by the fog.

“Seattle is a world-class city that attracts tourists.” I was less certain about the suburb of Kenmore.

“I call this the drag-and-drop method.” Duncan walked along the dock railing back toward shore, pulling the rope attached to his magnet behind him. “People drop stuff from boardwalks and piers all the time.”

“Is this how you make a living?” I had no idea how much a guilder was worth, but I doubted it was more than the quarter he’d found earlier, and those were the only two things of value, at least that he’d shown me, that his day’s work had gotten him.

“It is. ”

I eyed the slimy, rusty bike frame. “I’m beginning to see why you live in a van.”

Since I’d lived in the same apartment for twenty years, I supposed I couldn’t knock anyone for not aspiring to great wealth, but at least my home didn’t have wheels.

Not visibly offended, Duncan offered a friendly nod as he reached the start of the dock and pulled his magnet up. “People pay me to find things sometimes too. I’ve a lot of experience and a knack for locating lost objects.” This time, a short pole—or was that a tire iron?—and a blackened rectangle came up on the magnet. He pulled the tire iron away, tossed it to the dock, then plucked off the rectangular object. It wasn’t rusted, but grime covered it. “iPhone.”

“Given its pristine condition, I’m sure you can get a lot for it. Look, speaking of locating things, those contacts you mentioned who might know local alchemists…”

“I left messages on the way over. Email for my European contact since it’s early in the morning over there. I’ll let you know what they say, assuming you’re still willing to dine with me.”

“I do enjoy a good meal bribe. I’m ready as soon as you fetch enough to pay for your half.”

“I—” Duncan had been about to toss his magnet out again, but he lowered it and frowned toward the street.

In the few minutes we’d been talking, the fog had grown thicker. Traffic rumbled past on Bothell Way, headlights muted but the drivers slowed little by the haze.

The howl I’d heard at the apartment complex before leaving sounded again, audible over the traffic. I closed my mouth, the hair rising on the back of my neck. I’d driven almost five miles to get here.

“Anyone you know?” Duncan slanted me a sidelong look.

“No. ”

At least, I didn’t think so. Cousin Augustus’s phone call came to mind.

In the days before I’d started taking the potion, when all of my senses had been keener, even when I’d been in my human form, I’d been able to pick out the differences in howls. It was similar to how a person could tell someone by their voice. But now… As far as I could tell, that howl could have belonged to a werewolf or a timber wolf escaped from the zoo. The fog also affected the clarity of the sound.

“Is there a pack that claims this territory?” Duncan asked.

“The Snohomish Savagers claim all of Snohomish County and a few miles into King, yes. They spend most of their time in northern Snohomish County though. There are a lot more farms and forests there, fewer urban areas.”

The howl sounded again, closer now.

“I assume they patrol all the territory they claim and object to lone wolves.” Duncan drew in his magnet and coiled his rope, done fishing for the night.

It hadn’t occurred to me that the howler might have something to do with him rather than me. Maybe it should have. The pack had ignored me since I left. My mother had never even met her grandkids.

“I’m guessing I wouldn’t be able to talk the woman who wants to have my van towed into vouching for me,” Duncan added.

“You’re suspicious, so, no. Besides, I’m not…” I didn’t want to explain my past or the choices I’d made in my life to a stranger, so I groped for a way to finish that sentence. “My word wouldn’t be sufficient to vouch for anyone, not with the pack.”

“Are you an outcast?” Duncan eyed me contemplatively.

“I left by choice.” I wondered if he could sense that the potion dulled the werewolf in me, making me closer to a normal human with no ability—no irresistible drive—to change. Or it usually did. When its effects weren’t wearing off. When I didn’t need the next dose.

The fog thickened and curled around our legs, so dense that I could barely see my shoes. There was a taint to it, something unnatural that kept the hair on my neck raised and sent a chill through me. The cool, damp air smelled faintly of spent magic, a distinct odor that reminded me of the sizzle of lightning striking mixed with the scent of mushrooms dug straight from the night soil.

Twenty or thirty feet inland from the dock, two red almond-shaped dots appeared, like glowing eyes staring malevolently at us. I gaped. Those were eyes.

The fog shrouded the body of whatever they belonged to, but their height made me think of a big dog. Or… a big wolf ? I almost thought werewolf , but my kind didn’t have glowing eyes. Of course, neither did regular dogs or wolves. Was this some apparition? Or an illusion or projection created to scare us?

To scare me ?

Duncan stood calmly, though he crouched, his rope and magnet in hand, as if he might use them as a weapon. The magnet was heavy enough to do damage if it clubbed someone, but it was hard to imagine being able to sling it fast enough and accurately enough to strike a wild animal.

The fog stirred, and two more sets of eyes appeared to either side of the first. Up the hill, traffic continued to pass, the drivers unaware of wild animals—wild somethings —nearby.

“Those aren’t werewolves,” Duncan said.

“Just normal glowy-eyed pups, huh?”

“They’re being magically controlled.”

“Are you hypothesizing that because of logic? Or can you tell with your senses?”

Two more sets of eyes appeared. The odds of us surviving if the animals attacked were looking poorer and poorer. I glanced at Duncan’s van, wondering if we could sprint to it and get inside for protection. Unfortunately, to reach it, we would have to run through the growing pack.

Duncan slanted another sidelong look at me. “You can’t tell?”

I opened my mouth but didn’t know what to say. The last thing I wanted was to explain that I voluntarily dulled my werewolf senses.

The lead animal snarled. That sounded lupine, not canine.

The fog stirred, and the wolf charged toward the dock. No, toward me. Not glancing at Duncan, its focus—its target—was unmistakable.

“Shit.” I lunged and grabbed the tire iron, the heavy rod wet and slick with grime.

Duncan stepped away from me so he could twirl the heavy magnet on the rope. Claws clattered on the wooden dock as the wolf ran onto it. As I hefted the tire iron over my shoulder, Duncan sent the magnet flying. It sailed toward the wolf, straight at its glowing red eyes.

Despite its focus on me, the animal saw the attack coming and sprang to the side. But Duncan’s throw had been fast and hard, and the magnet clipped the possessed wolf in the shoulder. It faltered and stumbled toward the railing.

Unfortunately, the rest of the pack was on the move now, charging up the dock toward me. A whisper of the supernatural crept up my spine again. I could feel the magical influence in the air, some tendril of power compelling the creatures to attack.

As they drew closer, big furry bodies emerging from the fog, I could tell they weren’t all wolves. Some were large mutts, maybe stray dogs gathered from the area. That didn’t keep them from snarling and slavering like rabid animals, ready to tear me apart.

Heart hammering in my chest, I braced myself with the tire iron.

Duncan roared and sprang in front of me, sounding more like a wolf than a man. He blurred as he moved, kicking one animal in the jaw as he spun to grab another.

One wolf darted around him to reach me. I swung the tire iron, those glowing eyes promising me this creature wouldn’t be deterred by anything less than a stunning blow.

The heavy rod connected with a thud, opening a gash under the wolf’s ear, but the animal’s momentum carried it toward me.

I sprang back, the slick metal rod almost escaping my grip, but I clenched down. Another animal made it past Duncan, so I dared not lose my only weapon. When I’d had the power to turn into a wolf, I’d been a weapon, but I couldn’t do that anymore. Or so I assumed. As the scent of blood reached my nose, a flood of memories and magic flowed through me. Dormant instincts flared, and I could feel the wolf inside, scattered and hesitant after so long, but present.

As the new threat rushed me, I almost called to the magic, tempted by it. As a powerful wolf, I could quash these meager enemies. I could?—

Duncan snarled and hurled one of the mutts over the railing, its snapping jaws nearly catching his ear as he heaved it away. It splashed into the water, and cold spray spattered my cheek, startling me. The wolf magic within me retreated.

More snapping jaws angled toward me, one of the red-eyed creatures that had made it past Duncan. It had hesitated—sensing that I might change?—but now it sprang.

I had only the tire iron with which to defend myself, but it worked. I caught the animal in the jaw, knocking its head aside. Glad I retained some of my heritage’s strength and speed, I swung again. The tire iron took my attacker in the top of the skull.

The powerful blows should have felled the mongrel, but, driven by magic, it leaped at me again. I scurried back, adrenaline giving me speed. I should have escaped its sharp fangs, but my hip bumped into the railing, and one of the animal’s canine teeth gouged my arm. I yelped in fury and pain and swung the tire iron again, knocking my assailant back.

Meanwhile, the pack leader that Duncan had hit returned to the fray, charging straight at me. I clubbed the closer animal again, trying to knock it into the water. The leader sprang toward me before I could turn to defend against it. Duncan whirled and lunged, catching the big wolf by the torso. As if it were a shih tzu instead of a hundred-and-fifty-pound deadly animal, he hefted it and hurled it over the railing.

With that enemy gone, I focused on the mongrel attacking me. Again swinging the tire iron, I managed to knock it off the dock. The canine landed with a splash shortly after the leader tumbled in.

Arm burning in pain, I gritted my teeth and hefted the tire iron in anticipation of another attack.

But we had—mostly Duncan had—cleared the dock. He spun toward me, his eyes savage, and his fingers curled, like claws ready to rake.

I tensed, recognizing the animalistic gleam in his eyes, the promise that he was close to turning into a werewolf. Even when the moon wasn’t full, passion, fury, or the heat of battle could bring out the wolf. I knew all about that.

But Duncan seemed to recognize that I wasn’t a threat. After a tense moment, he lowered his arms. He shook his head, his wavy hair flopping about his jaw, and tamped down the wolf within. The next time he met my eyes, he was smiling, the savageness gone.

“I knew dinner with you would be interesting.” Only a hint of an animalistic rasp to his voice suggested how close he had come to changing.

If he had, would he have attacked me? Or would he have recognized me as an ally?

The pack always knew its own, but he’d implied he was a lone wolf. He might be one of those werewolves who couldn’t tell friend from foe when he changed, who was overcome by savage instincts and attacked any that those instincts deemed a threat, not coming back to his rational mind until the magic wore off and he reverted back. I knew all about that too.

“We haven’t even gone into the restaurant yet,” I said, not voicing any of my concerns. After all, we hadn’t yet admitted, either of us, to being what we both knew the other was.

“Of course not.” Duncan glanced at the wolves and dogs in the water, but they were all swimming away, and no more red glowing eyes were turned in our direction. He plucked up the fork he’d found earlier. “We’re still collecting the cutlery.”

I couldn’t manage a return smile for his stab at humor. Instead, I eyed the bleeding gash on my arm and thought of his earlier words. Reluctantly, I admitted those animals hadn’t attacked us because Duncan was a lone wolf. For some reason, someone was after me.

“Do you need to see a doctor?” Duncan asked, noticing the wound. “I assume you’re impervious to rabies, but…”

Yes, as far as I knew, the regenerative power of the wolf protected our kind from such maladies. Besides, that pack of strays hadn’t been driven by madness but by magic.

“I’m fine. I heal quickly.”

“I imagine so.”

Another howl sounded in the distance, this time with an edge of irritation to it. I had heard of werewolves capable of controlling lesser dogs and wolves, but this was my first time seeing it. Of course, I hadn’t spent any time around my own kind these past twenty-five years. Whoever the howler was, he sounded irked that his minions hadn’t been successful.

“ That’s a werewolf.” Duncan lowered the fork.

“I know. ”

What I didn’t know was whether or not, if Duncan hadn’t been with me, the werewolf would have come in person to attack me. To… kill me.