Page 16 of Relics of the Wolf

“I don’t know,” Duncan said, “but I think this is the right place.”

“Probably so.”

The scents of grilled onions, hamburgers, and beer wafted out the open door—all normal bar-and-grill odors. But I also caught a few whiffs of essential oils and dried flowers that reminded me of the alchemist’s apartment. As we walked in, I glanced toward the rafters for dangling bunches of herbs.

More caped and cloaked people sat at tables in the front, playing board games as they nursed mugs of ale, glasses of wine, and cocktails in glasses, more than a few of the beverages throwing colorful vapors into the air. I didn’t sense actual magic in the drinks, so maybe the owner employed molecular gastronomy to give his visitors what they expected from the establishment.

In the back, past a bar along the side wall, people stood, waiting their turns at pool tables. Beyond them, a couple of big men threw axes at targets. The occasionalthunksof the projectiles landing mingled with the music.

Here and there, a few men and women danced, but the board-game playing was most popular. A Dungeons and Dragons box caught my eye. Even more grown Harry Potters sat at that table.

Based on sight alone, I might have dismissed the place as catering to those into fantasy novels and games, but my nerves tingled as we took a few steps inside, a hint of magic floating in the air. The drinks might not be enchanted, but some of these people had power.

“This might be a more promising place to magnet fish,” I said to Duncan over the music, an axethunkpunctuating my sentence. “Ormagicfish.”

He had that detector, after all.

“Yes, but people get upset when your magnets attach themselves to their pockets. Also when your magic detector beeps at them.” Duncan lowered his voice and added in a warning tone, “Watch the bartender.”

The bartender was watchingus.

A brown-skinned man of average height and build, he had short gray hair and wouldn’t have looked intimidating, but he had a feral aspect, and my senses pricked further as our eyes met. He was a werewolf. Or something similar? My brow furrowed as I considered what my senses told me about him. After so many years dulling them with my potions, I was out of practice at reading signs.

“Lobisomem,” Duncan said. “Our South American kin. I met one in Brazil during my travels. They’re even scarcer than we are.”

The bartender might have had sharp ears, or maybe he didn’t like the way we looked at him, because he finished making a couple of drinks and walked around his patrons and toward us.

Duncan lowered into a crouch with his arms loose. Expecting a fight? Maybe his meeting with the Brazilianlobisomemhadn’t gone well.

But the bartender raised his arms in a conciliatory gesture as he approached, glancing between us before stopping a couple of paces away. He gave Duncan a long look, but his gaze settled on me.

“I already paid my taxes to the Savagers this month,” he said, naming my pack. “I don’t want any trouble, and I set up my bar outside of what I wastoldwastheir territory so they would leave me alone. I run a respectable business and don’t bother anyone. I’ll have the fee again next month, but I won’t beextortedfor more.” He glared at Duncan.

I glanced at Duncan, to see if he’d heard about this, but it didn’t sound like something that had anything to do with him. I was surprised the guy had recognized me as one of the Snohomish Savagers. Other than the recent hunt, I hadn’t interacted with my family in decades, but I supposed he, being lupine himself, could smell or sense that I shared their blood.

“That’s not why we came,” I said. “We’re here for?—”

“Beer and camaraderie.” Maybe Duncan didn’t think it was a good idea to announce what we were really after. “And to hire people.Strongpeople. Do you get any regulars like that who might need work?”

He looked toward big guys at one of the pool tables and also a man caressing his axe between throws.

“Yeah, maybe. You can put a card on the community board. Job listings get posted there.” The bartender waved toward a short hallway that looked more like it led to bathrooms than employment opportunities. “I’m Francisco. You’resureyou didn’t come to extort me?” He squinted suspiciously at me.

“Nope. I don’t even think…” I paused, not knowing much about the pack dynamics and where they extended their influence these days. When I’d been a girl, it had only been Snohomish County and a few miles across the border into King County. Raoul’s pack, the Cascade Crushers, had ruled the rural and suburban parts of east King County. Everyone had mostly ignored Seattle itself, the urban density making it unappealing for werewolves. But maybe all that had changed when the Crushers had departed. Even if my pack didn’t claim two full counties as their territory, that didn’t mean they would let lone wolves linger in close proximity to what theydidclaim. That was probably what this guy was. “Who’s extorting you?”

“A bighombrewho’s always in a black leather jacket with slicked-back black hair. Last time he came by, some of my clients tried to help me get out of paying his supposed taxes, but he had buddies with him, and it didn’t go well for meormy establishment.” Francisco glanced toward three deep claw marks in the surface of the polished wooden bar.

“Sounds like your cousin,” Duncan said, “unless that’s a style favored by lots of males in your family. Lots of males stuck in the 1960s. I wonder if they had white T-shirts with packs of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve too.”

“Werewolves set their own styles,” I said.

“True enough.”

“We’re not here looking for trouble,” I told Francisco. “Or taxes.”

I was tempted to apologize for Augustus’s behavior, but I didn’t know anything about the agreement this guy had with the pack.

“No? Then please enjoy the offerings here. The cook is happy to make all-meat meals, and we have some potent drinks. I can make a delicious margarita that allows you to see into the spiritual realm. It’s popular with my ghost-hunter clientele.” Francisco pointed toward a table of young men and women who hunched around a machine and a backpack instead of a board game. Maybe they were heading out to a graveyard later.

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