Page 4 of Relics of the Wolf

He charged up so quickly that Bolin didn’t recognize the danger in time. The thug gripped him by the arms and, shoulder muscles bunching under the jacket, threw Bolin ten feet into a lamppost.

I winced in sympathy when he hit it hard, crumpling to the ground. He’d dropped the case, and the thug bent to grab it. Despite the blow, Bolin reached into his pocket and threw something at the guy—another of his vials? It bounced off his attacker’s chest, landed on the cement walkway, and shattered. Vapors wafted up, and the man jerked back, waving at the air in front of his face.

On hands and knees, Bolin scrambled in and tried to grab the case. But the man recovered, grabbed him, hoisted him up, and punched him in the face. That accounted for the black eye and stitches.

After that, the man threw Bolin aside again. Stunned and probably groaning in pain, Bolin hadn’t continued to fight. I was surprised he’d had the gumption to do as much as he had.

When the thug picked up the case, he glanced toward the parking lot, giving the camera a good view of his face.

Bolin leaned in, pressed pause, and used his phone to take a photo before letting the footage finish playing. After that, the thief jogged through the parking lot. He didn’t get into a car but headed into the street, then disappeared from the camera’s range of vision. We didn’t know if he’d gotten into a vehicle out there, been picked up by someone, or had gone for an evening stroll to bask in his victory. I did know that there’d been no sign of Duncan in the video.

“You’ve got some gumption, kid,” I said, though Bolin was fiddling with his phone.

“What I’ve got is a date for you.” He smiled brightly and held it up. “He already replied.”

“Duncan?”

“Presumably. Whoever mans his channel and answers messages.”

“I doubt he has staff. He lives out of avan,after all.”

Bolin glanced out the window at the complex, but he didn’t point out that I lived in the same modest apartment I’d had for twenty years, so I wasn’t the epitome of financial success. It was, however, a valid point, so I shouldn’t have insulted Duncan for his lifestyle choices. In truth, I was more upset that his lifestyle had led him to be a nomadic treasure hunter who’d taken a gig from my ex-husband.

“Well, whoever replied said he would love to help you, and you can find him at the Ballard Locks this afternoon.”

“Okay. Which tool should I take to pound him with if it turns out he hired that guy?”

Bolin opened his mouth but paused, his brow creasing.

I hadn’t told him about Duncan’s betrayal, so it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t suspect a link.

Finally, he replied with, “Interns aren’t versed on that kind of thing. Do you want me to ask him?”

I snorted. “Yeah.”

Bolin typed in the message. It only took a few seconds for a reply.

“He says he’d prefer to be pounded by a bar of chocolate but, if you must, the big wrench is flattering in your hand.Flattering?” Bolin lifted his upper lip. “Are yousureyou two aren’t, uhm?”

“Positive.”

2

The twenty-year-old clerkwatched in bemusement, or possibly condescension, as I counted bills out of my GAS envelope and laid them on the counter. I was used to it. It wasn’t that I didn’t knowhowto use plastic or the various online payment processors, but sticking with cash had helped me get my budget locked in and pay off my debt. Given all the extra driving I’d been doing this month, not to mention buying gift boxes of salami and smoked salmon for werewolf bribes, my budget needed all the help it could get.

“Sixty on nine.” I waved toward the pump where my beat-up truck waited.

“Anything else?” The kid flicked a finger at an assortment of cheap candies, gum, and bottled vitamin boosters that promised to give me the energy of a puppy on amphetamines.

My gaze trailed over a chocolate bar, and I sneered almost as much as Bolin did every time he talked about theneighborhoodof the apartment complex. It wasn’t my fault gas stations sold inferior chocolate.

“No, thanks.” I had already picked up a couple of quality almond-and-sea-salt dark-chocolate bars.

Depending on how this meeting with Duncan went, and what I was able to sus out about his involvement with the missing case, I would either bribe him with the sweets or torment him by enthusiastically eating them in front of him.

I never minded having to nosh on fine chocolate and practiced doing so regularly. Such treats were non-negotiable in my budget. More than once, I’d put back cauliflower or broccoli to pay for desserts. It wasn’t as if werewolves needed that many veggies anyway, right? I’d mostly purchased such things for my boys when they’d lived at home. Given all the other crap they’d eaten, I’d figured cruciferous vegetables played an important role in scouring out their innards. Like a Brillo pad.

After filling up, I drove to the Ballard Locks and cruised through the nearby parking lots until I spotted Duncan’s blue-and-white Roadtrek, the vehicle modified for off-roading. At the least, it had atypically large tires. They’d been helpful when I’d needed to ram into a belligerent werewolf.

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