Page 18 of Relics of the Wolf

“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’mnot the one the bartender thought was going to beat him up if he didn’t paytaxes. Your cousin is a real gem of a werewolf.”

“Werewolves in general don’t have a history of beinggems. 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—myhumanity—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 hirestrongmen 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’rewithme 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.”

“Ofcourse. 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 steppedintothe 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—orkill—innocent people.

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