Page 65 of Relics of the Wolf

I winced. That hadn’t gone well before. But since I didn’t have a reason to feel protective of my territory or tenants under my watch here, maybe I could refrain from turning into a wolf. If Iwasn’ta wolf, however, I wouldn’t have a way to fight armed men amped up on potions.

“Come out from behind the car, you two.” The rifleman stood behind the post but leaned out enough to point his firearm in our direction.

I didn’t see the knifeman but sensed that he was on the move. The garage was filled with crates, rolling drawer-cabinets, machinery, a tractor, and a big auto that looked like a mix of a tank and an SUV. The man followed the wall, staying behind those items to try to circle behind us.

“If you lower your gun, we’ll be happy to come out for a chat,” Duncan said.

“That’s not how it works, buddy.”

“That’s the girl Radomir wants,” the man circling to get behind us called.

Who was Radomir? The boss? Mr. Raspy from the phone call?

“I don’t think they’re armed,” he added.

“That’s what you think,” Duncan muttered, then stepped out and threw something at the gunman.

Assuming it was the grenade, I ducked lower and wrapped my arms around my head.

The rifle fired three times as Duncan leaped back behind the car. Leaving silvery trails in the air, the bullets zipped across the warehouse and clangedoff whatever they hit.

The rifleman cursed as a clunk sounded. I lowered my arms enough to eye Duncan. He crouched with his back to the car and was pulling in twine. Was that attached to the lemon-sized magnet we’d discussed?

Footsteps thudded on the other side of the car. Duncan pulled faster. Whatever he’d snagged on the magnet caught on the rear tire. He lunged to grab it and bring it back behind cover. The man’s rifle was stuck to his magnet.

By the time its owner sprang around the car, a dagger in his hand, Duncan rose to one knee and aimed the rifle at him.

“Drop the knife,” he said.

The guy froze and raised his hands above his head, but he didn’t drop the blade.

“To your right,” I whispered, glimpsing the second man near the tractor.

He leaned out, gripping a handgun and aiming at us.

Duncan whipped the rifle toward him and fired. So did his target, but Duncan ducked in time. I flattened myself to the cement floor.

The bullet pierced the rear car window that Duncan had been crouching in front of, and a spiderweb of cracks appeared. The closer man took advantage of the distraction and leaped toward Duncan.

Using the butt of the rifle, Duncan struck him in the chin. I ran toward the man who’d fired at us, not sure if Duncan’s bullet had caught him. He’d disappeared behind the tractor.

I spotted the handgun on the floor, along with spatters of blood, and plucked it up. I lacked experience with firearms, but I gripped it in both hands as I stepped around the tractor.

Face scrunched in pain, the man leaned against one of the giant wheels and held his bloody hand to his chest. He cursed when he saw me and kicked toward my wrist, trying to knock the gun away. His speed startled me, but I managed to leap back and avoid his boot.

“Stop.” I pointed the gun at his chest and reminded myself that these men had more speed and strength than typical.

A loudthud-crunchcame from Duncan’s fight. Someone being slammed into the car? Hard enough to dent it?

My foe didn’t obey my order to stop. He inched forward in a crouch, his arms spread as if he would tackle me, and I could see the calculation in his eyes as he debated whether he could spring upon me before I could shoot him. Or maybe he was debating if Iwouldshoot him.

“Where are the artifacts you stole being held?” I didn’t know if he’d had anything to do with the thefts, but, by now, I believed they were on this property. Or at least that they had been at one point.

He lunged in, slapping toward my gun hand. Again, I avoided his attempt to knock the weapon away, but frustration simmered inside of me, and my skin tingled with a hint of magic. Duncan might be right. I might have the power to change again tonight.

Trying to sound as calm and cold as possible, I said, “If you won’t tell me, I’ve no reason to keep you alive.”

“You barely know which end to point at me,” he said.

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