Page 72 of Quest of the Wolf

To give him privacy, I turned to look out the window past Mom’s headboard. She didn’t. She openly scrutinized Duncan as he undressed. She was probably assessing his power and fitness tofather offspring rather than ogling him out of sexual interest, and I was positive she didn’t care if he trimmed himself.

She didn’t say anything aloud, but, after finishing her perusal, she did give me a significant look, as if to say,This one will do.

I sighed and shook my head.

After kicking off loafers and draping his clothes over a chair, Duncan walked naked to a corner and stared at the floor. He’d made it sound like summoning the bipedfuris was easy, whether the moon or a threat bestirred the magic or not, but he probably had to concentrate, perhaps imagine himself running through the forest in his furry form, hunting enticing prey.

I unwrapped the case from the towel and placed it on the bedside table near Mom. If I’d known any words I could use to entreat the magic to come forth, I would have chanted them.

“It can be difficult to call upon the beast without an inciting event causing strong emotions,” Mom said, watching Duncan, his muscled back toward us.

“I could get Rocco in here to threaten him,” I offered.

“That pup is no threat,” Duncan murmured, not looking back at us.

“Maybe Emilio could beat you with a salami. Thathasto be threatening.”

“Do not distract him,” Mom murmured to me. “I am most curious.”

“About the case or Duncan?”

Since she’d barely looked at the artifact, I didn’t need to ask. She smiled at me.

The power that always emanated from Duncan increased, fluctuating like an energy field rippling over his skin. His muscles thickened, his torso broadened, salt-and-pepper fur sprouted from his skin, and he grew taller, his head almost brushing the ceiling as his face also changed, teeth sharpening and a snout half as long as a wolf’s forming.

The bipedfuris turned toward us, fingers flexing, showing off sharp claws, and his brown eyes were no longer entirely human. Though they remained sharp with intelligence, their ancient depths spoke of power and the savagery of the wilderness.

Even though I’d expected this—I’drequestedthis—uncertainty swept through me. What if he attacked instead of helping? Neither Mom nor I had the power to stop him.

22

In his powerful bipedfuris form,Duncan took a step toward us. Tense muscles flexed under his short salt-and-pepper fur, and his jaws parted, revealing racks of sharp teeth.

I tensed, shifting to stand in front of my mother’s bed, afraid this had been a mistake. That feeling intensified when an orange glow grew visible through the fur on Duncan’s forehead. Had Radomir and Abrams already somehow sensed that he’d changed? Duncan had said they wouldn’t be able to manipulate him into attacking, not from afar, but was that the truth? Did he know for certain?

Even if they couldn’t make him attack, they could call him away from us. I’d wanted that so I could track him to their hideout, but I’d hoped we could help Mom first.

Power throbbed in the air beside me, and I jumped, startled. It was the case. The lid tilted open, and brilliant silver light flowed out.

Duncan paused to peer at it before squinting and looking away. The mushroom-shaped artifact lay within the case, but the light made it too bright to more than glance at.

“It looks like you do activate it in that form.” Keeping my gaze on Duncan, I lifted the artifact out of the case, the mushroom shape warm, smooth, and with heft. The silver glow from the case lessened. “Probably better than a rattlesnake.”

Mom stirred in her bed but didn’t move to rise. She was watching Duncan. While I’d been worrying about being in a confined space with a bipedfuris under someone else’s control, she’d been studying him without fear.

“A rattlesnake?” she murmured.

“That’s what I could have pulled into the bedroom with you.” I placed the artifact next to her on the bed, hoping it would sense her disease and know what to do.

“Less appealing than a werewolf.” Her gaze shifted from Duncan to the artifact. In the face of a bipedfuris, she might have been fearless, but her expression held unease as she eyed it.

“You think so?”

“Snakes are cold and scaly. He’s strong and lush.”

“Oh, he knows it.” I didn’t think Duncan would react much to the words he heard while he was in that form, but his short snout came up, as if with pride. I snorted. Maybe he recognized an acknowledgment of his appealinglushnessin any form.

I debated what to do—how to call upon the artifact’s magic. Before, it had reacted automatically, sensing the poison in Duncan’s wound, and it had known how to heal him. Now, it emanated power, but it wasn’t growing intensely bright as it had before. It didn’t seem to be doing anything. My hope started to fade.

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