Page 11 of Relics of the Wolf

“Indeed not.” Duncan paused outside the glass doors and looked up.

The smell of incense had grown stronger, and I followed his gaze toward a slight figure standing on a second-floor balcony and looking down at us. A woman? It was hard to tell, except by the size. She had a hood up, and I couldn’t make out her face, but the incense scent seemed to waft out of her open door. Further, twists of dried herbs and strings of roots and bulbs dangled from the railing.

Duncan lifted a hand but didn’t call up to the woman, only opening the door. “She might have sensed us coming. She has power of her own.”

“Alchemists usually do, I think. It’s not just the ingredients but the addition of a person’s magic that makes their potions potent, right?”

“I believe that’s correct.” Duncan led me inside and to carpeted stairs instead of an elevator. “Wolves don’t mix up concoctions, so I wouldn’t know.”

“I don’t mix more than cake and brownie batters, so I’m not an expert either.”

“What is a brownie?”

“Kind of like a big chewy chocolate cookie but thicker. You make them in a pan and cut them into squares. You haven’t encountered them on your world travels?”

“It’s possible they’re called something else in other countries, but chocolate, you say?” Duncan glanced over his shoulder at me as we climbed.

“Yup. I have a recipe for bacon-caramel brownies that are amazing.”

“I’m salivating again. I didn’t know I was such a fan of chocolate until I met you.”

“You must not have had the right kind.”

“The kind with salted meat cubed up in it is new to me.”

“You were missing out before.”

“Clearly.”

The second-floor hallway was empty, but something raised my hackles as we headed toward a door near the end. I thought of the wolf howl we’d heard, but it wasn’t an approaching enemy that had my instincts bristling. This was an unease prompted by the proximity of magic.

I stopped before reaching the door Duncan waved to. It was covered in graffiti, and notes and signs stuck around the frame held messages such aswitches aren’t allowed, demon worshipper,anddevil-spawn be gone.

I eyed them, wondering what the alchemist did besides burning incense. Maybe her magic stirred up other people’s hackles as well. When it came to detecting paranormal influence, humans didn’t have senses nearly as strong as werewolves, but many did havesomesensitivity.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” I asked.

“I am.” Unfazed by the graffiti, Duncan knocked on the door.

He’d been here before to get my potions, so the alchemist presumably didn’t greet visitors with guns—or wands. That reassured me slightly until I remembered, with a jolt, that I hadn’ttakenher potions. Would she be offended? If she had power, she would sense that my werewolfness wasn’t being subdued.

“Is she going to be—” The door opened, and I didn’t finish withupset I haven’t used her potions.Instead, I turned the sentence into, “—okay about seeing us without an appointment?”

“We’ll find out.”

4

Duncan bowedto the woman who’d opened the door, her hood back, revealing white hair, a wizened face, and almond-shaped eyes. Almost a head shorter than Duncan, she squinted up at him, the light from the hallway bright compared to her dim apartment lit by oil lamps and candles. What was the woman’s name? Rue. That had been it.

“Greetings, my lady alchemist. Your radiant beauty and superb skills in your profession have brought me to seek advice from you again.”

Her suspicious squint changed into a shy smile, though she grew wary when she glanced at me. “I sell potions, not advice, but you are welcome inside.” She didn’t look anything like Beatrice, the retired nurse alchemist who’d lived in my apartment complex, but she had a familiar vibe, and I could sense the paranormal about her. I didn’t doubt that she could imbue her potions with magic. “And you…” She pointed her finger at me. “Who are you?” Her eyes widened with enlightenment before I could answer. “Oh, you are his mate. The confused werewolf. Yes, you may also enter.”

“Mate?” I mouthed, but Rue had already turned to go inside.

“I didn’t tell her that,” Duncan whispered. “I told her you were a female friend who I was doing a favor for. That’s it.”

“Men who are onlyfriendswith women don’t go to great lengths and collect ingredients from dangerous locales to buy them potions to further their identity delusions,” Rue said without looking back. Her age didn’t make her hard of hearing.

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