Page 68 of Relics of the Wolf

All that exited the door were powerful floral scents. I could also hear something gurgling and thought of a witch stirring a cauldron over a fire.

“You’re rather strong,” I remarked as Duncan slipped inside, “even for a werewolf.”

“You’re strong too. I’ve seen you carrying toilets around.”

“Carrying a ninety-pound toilet isn’t on the same order of magnitude as ripping a stainless-steel door off its hinges.” I joined him inside, putting my back to the wall.

“I think the hinges were made from cold-rolled steel so not quite as strong.”

“Oh, in that case, I’m sure a toddler could have popped that door open.”

Duncan held a finger to his lips. Eyes probing the shadows, he murmured, “We’re not alone.”

Inside, the building was dark save for LEDs glowing from machinery and computer equipment. In the shadows above, a metal catwalk followed the wall, possibly running all the way around the interior. It allowed access to vats taller than we were.

This had to be the laboratory where the perfumes and potions and who knew what else were made. If the hired help wandered through here regularly on the way to the garage, it could account for the scents Duncan had picked up so often.

He pointed toward the catwalk about halfway back along one wall. With the shadows deep there, I might not have picked anything out, but whatever it was—no,whoeverit was—must have turned his or her head slightly. For a second, the reflection of green LEDs appeared in a pair of eyes.

I still had the gun and raised it, but I hesitated to fire at a human being who wasn’t immediately threatening our lives. For all I knew, that was some minimum-wage security guard who knew nothing of his boss’s nefarious doings and was simply paid to monitor the laboratory. Duncan hadn’t brought along the rifle he’d liberated from our attackers, but, since he could rip doors from hinges, maybe he didn’t feel the need.

The person, perhaps noticing us looking, vaulted the railing and jumped down from the catwalk. I gaped. That was fifteen feet above the concrete floor. The figure landed in a deep crouch, disappeared behind a couple of vats, and then reappeared, running down a center aisle toward a door on the far side of the building.

It was lit better than the catwalk, and when the person glanced back, I glimpsed brown hair flopping in the eyes of a boyish face. It was boyish, I realized, becausehewas a boy. Maybe eight years old.

I lowered the gun.

Not moving, Duncan stared after the kid. I thought I caught a hint of the lupine about the boy before he darted through the far door. If so, that could have explained the easy jump from a height that could have broken a leg, though it wasn’t a featIwould have tried.

“Is he the werewolf we heard outside?” I wondered.

Duncan stirred, as if pulling himself from a daze. He must not have expected a child spy either. “I think so.”

He led the way down the center aisle, advancing slowly and glancing into the alcoves and aisles along the way. More than once, he peered up at the catwalks.

The place had my gooseflesh stirred up. As we passed vats, the intensely floral smells almost enough to give me a headache, I sensed magic within more than one. Whatever was sold at the gift shop wasn’tallthis company produced. I wondered if the alchemist Rue had heard of this place.

Surprisingly, we reached the door the boy had disappeared through without trouble. I kept expecting boobytraps or for guards to leap out.

This door wasn’t even locked. Duncan eased it open, revealing a wide, well-lit hallway with a couple of windows looking toward the fields. Timber posts and ceiling beams supported the plaster walls, and the floor was made from rustic Saltillo tile. The hallway had to lead into the adobe mansion.

A closed door between the windows led outside, but Duncan passed it by with only a glance. He, too, believed that what we sought wasn’t hanging out in the lavender fields.

We passed under another camera with a glowing red LED.

Nervous, I wiped my hands on my trousers. The wait for something to jump out at us was as stressful as if tanks with shell guns had rolled into the hallway and opened fire.

A door at the far end was made from wide-plank wood, and I trusted Duncan could force it open if he needed to, but when he tested it, it wasn’t locked.

“Other than the two garage attendants,” he murmured, listening at the door and not yet opening it, “it’s like we’re being invited in.”

I almost snorted at the termgarage attendants, as if those guys had been positioned there to park cars and wipe windshields.

“The thugs at the apartment complexdidwant me to come with them,” I said.

“They didn’t have similar feelings about me.”

“True. Maybe you should be walking behind me.”

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