Page 12 of Quest of the Wolf

“Here you go.” I unlocked the door of the Roadtrek and opened it for her. A magical ceiling lamp turned on, emitting a warm glow. “Sample away.”

Rue curled her lip again, but she did climb into the van and open cabinets.

“The toilet is in that one.” I pointed, though I suspected she was looking for alternatives to collectingthatkind of sample. Maybe she could find a used tissue or hairbrush or something else that would work for her recipe.

“How can you tell? All these doors are tiny.” Rue did locate the one that opened to the little lavatory, though the closet door beside it was of similar size.

“This van should make you appreciate the square footage of your apartment and give you a desire to pay more.”

“I thought you weren’t the owner and didn’t make any more money if I paid a higher rent.”

“That’s true, but I like to manage the property to the best of my abilities and ensure my employers make what they need to cover all the expenses of maintaining the complex.” A statement that was especially true now, though I doubted a two-hundred-dollar increase from one tenant would keep the Sylvans from selling.

“I guess I cannot fault you for that.” Rue took a bracing breath as she looked at the composting toilet and drew out her kit.

I thought about asking if she needed help, but the rumble of loud engines turning onto our street stopped me. As I faced the parking lot entrance, four big men on motorcycles sped into view. They headed straight for the complex’s driveway, and I groaned with the certainty that trouble had arrived.

5

Half-wishing I had the sword,though a single lesson had barely taught me how to hold it, I left the van and walked onto the pavement where the motorcycle riders wouldn’t miss seeing me. The first time thugs like this had rolled into the lot, it might have been chance—a little vandalism partaken in for fun—but this time… I had little doubt these guys were here for me. Or at leastbecauseof me.

Engines roaring, all four men rode around the lot, circling the cars, going up and down the lanes.

I didn’t sense anything magical about them, nor did I recognize them. These weren’t Radomir’s thugs, amped up on Tiger Blood potions. That didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous. Each of the big men wore black leather pants and a studded jacket and carried cudgels or tire irons as they eyed the windows of parked cars. They hadn’t come here to tour one of the vacant units.

“On second thought,” I murmured, “that one looks a little familiar.”

Had he been one of the thugs present when Duncan jumpedinto the fray to help? On the day he’d first arrived to metal-detect in the woods next to the apartments?

Back then, the intruders’ eyes had been bloodshot and glazed, as if the men were on drugs. Today, they looked more alert as their gazes fixed on me. Two kept riding up and down the lanes, waving their cudgels in the air, though they hadn’t yet struck anything. The other pair slowed to a stop a few paces from me.

My phone was in my pocket, and I thought about calling 9-1-1, but I remembered thelasttime the police had shown up. It had been in the aftermath of Duncan and me changing into werewolves and tearing out throats. The authorities had found mauled bodies and heard reports of wild dogs—or wolves. If another incident like that happened, with me in the middle of it, someone might figure out that the property manager for Sylvan Serenity Housing was a werewolf.

At least none of the tenants were in the parking lot at the moment. That was a small blessing, but it wasn’t that late at night, so people might come and go. Bracing myself, I groped for a way to deal with these guys quickly.

“Luna Valens,” one of the stopped men said. He had a faint accent, a wispy black mustache, and dark eyes that bored into me.

“Congratulations on your ability to read my name off the mailbox,” I said, though I doubted these thugs had read anything. “How can I help you?”

He gave me a long once over, like he was checking me out, though he was probably trying to tell if I had weapons. I bared my teeth, letting him see my canines—mylupines, one might call them. Too bad my five-foot-three-inches of height and one-hundred-and-ten pounds didn’t lend any extra menace to my sharp teeth.

“You’ve been making trouble,” his partner said, a bald guy with a similar look. Maybe a brother.

“I’mthe one making trouble?” I touched my chest, then pointed to his cudgel.

It rested across one of his handlebars, but he still gripped it.

“This town doesn’t belong to you. Mind your own business, or we’ll tear up your place.” He looked toward the van where Rue’s nose was pressed against one of the windows as she watched. “Andthe people who live here.”

My skin warmed, my blood tingling as indignation at the threat filled me. Indignation and anger.

This was my territory, protecting the people who lived here my responsibility. The rational part of me knew I should avoid changing, but emotions rode higher, and, in case I couldn’t control the magic, I tugged off my jacket and pulled my phone out of my pocket, tossing both to the sidewalk. But I didn’t want to change in front of witnesses. I had totalkthese guys into leaving. Somehow.

The other two men revved their engines and continued to ride around. Rue probably wasn’t the only one nearby with a nose pressed to a window, watching.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, though I had an inkling. The thugs who’d tried to rob the convenience-store owners had also ridden motorcycles, and they’d had a similar vibe as these guys.

“The police know better than to mess with the Fellowship,” he said.

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