Page 17 of Way of the Wolf

With secrets of my own, I wasn’t inclined to blab about anyone else’s.

“I know a thing or two about the paranormal,” I offered. “I’m not bothered by people who practice the various arts.”

“Oh.” Bolin’s wariness turned to relief and then curiosity as he looked me up and down. “When we first met, I thought… You seem a little… I’m not sure.”

“I get that a lot.” I smirked at him.

He didn’t appear amused. “In college, I got into some… stuff. My mom doesn’t know. My dad… might, but he doesn’t talk about magic when she’s around, and he changes the subject ifItry to talk about it. I don’t know why. My grandpa—my dad’s dad—was from Ireland. I’m not supposed to know, but Dad studied magic with Grandpa before he passed. Dad can read Gaelic and has books on druid stuff in his office—he tells Mom that they’re history books, butIknow better.” Bolin lowered his voice. “My grandpa was a druid, and, when I was a kid, he said I had the knack. But Mom shooed him away when he said that, and Grandpa didn’t come around the house after that. Mom wanted me to grow up to benormal.”

“Yeah? Was she the one who thought violins and spelling bees were good ideas?”

“Extracurricular activities help with college applications and scholarships. And normal people play musical instruments.” Bolin scowled at me in defiance. “I do admit that the summer I tinkered with the theremin may have gotten me picked on by the neighbor kids.”

“Kids are mean,” I said to be sympathetic—and because I wanted to know if he had a potion supplier. “Where do you get your chemical concoctions?”

“My dad has a stash that my mom doesn’t know about.”

I slumped with disappointment. He didn’t have a supplier, just whatever his father kept in a desk drawer. It was highly unlikely a real-estate investor and businessman—even one with druid tendencies—would have werewolf-sublimation potions in his office.

“I’m not supposed to know about his stash either,” Bolin added, “but I’ve always been a curious sort.”

“Is that a way of saying you’re a huge snoop?”

“I’m barely five-foot-six and weigh in at one-twenty. I’m not a huge anything.”

“So a small-to-medium snoop.”

That earned me another scowl.

Bolin had probably been beaten up in school, especially if he’d regularly informed his peers about the roots of words. Maybe that was what had prompted him to get into the druid stuff. I imagined him slinging potions—chemical concoctions—at bullies.

“Well, if your dad has anything that can eradicate mold, I would pay for that.” I eyed the leak and pulled out my phone to call one of the contractors we worked with.

“Druid magic usually enhances and stimulates plant growth, not the other way around.”

“Mold isn’t aplant. It’s an infestation.”

“It’s technically a fungus, so it would be more of a colonization than an infestation. Also, it’s a natural part of the environment.”

“Not when it grows in walls and turns my tenants asthmatic.” The call dropped to voicemail, and I left a message.

“Itmightbe possible to convince it to grow elsewhere.” Bolin scratched his jaw thoughtfully. “I’d have to do some research, and you’d have to remove the water source.”

“That’s the plan. I—” My instincts warned me of someone magical approaching.

Phone tucked back into my pocket, I stepped out the front door.

Duncan was ambling up, his affable smile on his face. That didn’t keep me from remembering how he’d fought the night before or how he’dalmostchanged into a much more dangerous version of himself.

A weird sensation teased my gut. It might have been dread, foreboding, or the nervous anticipation of… something.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Duncan said, “but I parked in the staff spot next to that gleaming Mercedes SUV. The guest parking was full.”

“You’re not a guest. That parking was never for you.”

“After all we’ve been through together, I’m not a guest?” Duncan planted his palm on his chest as he raised his eyebrows. “I’m aggrieved.”

“You’redefinitelynot staff.” I resisted the urge to threaten to have his van towed. Wehadbeen through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. I didn’t trust him, not in the least, but it was hard to deny that he’d helped me out. Twice.

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