Page 13 of Way of the Wolf

“Is this how you make a living?” I had no idea how much a guilder was worth, but I doubted it was more than the quarter he’d found earlier, and those were the only two things of value, at least that he’d shown me, that his day’s work had gotten him.

“It is.”

I eyed the slimy, rusty bike frame. “I’m beginning to see why you live in a van.”

Since I’d lived in the same apartment for twenty years, I supposed I couldn’t knock anyone for not aspiring to great wealth, but at least my home didn’t have wheels.

Not visibly offended, Duncan offered a friendly nod as he reached the start of the dock and pulled his magnet up. “People pay me to find things sometimes too. I’ve a lot of experience and a knack for locating lost objects.” This time, a short pole—or was that a tire iron?—and a blackened rectangle came up on the magnet. He pulled the tire iron away, tossed it to the dock, then plucked off the rectangular object. It wasn’t rusted, but grime covered it. “iPhone.”

“Given its pristine condition, I’m sure you can get a lot for it. Look, speaking of locating things, those contacts you mentioned who might know local alchemists…”

“I left messages on the way over. Email for my European contact since it’s early in the morning over there. I’ll let you know what they say, assuming you’re still willing to dine with me.”

“I do enjoy a good meal bribe. I’m ready as soon as you fetch enough to pay for your half.”

“I—” Duncan had been about to toss his magnet out again, but he lowered it and frowned toward the street.

In the few minutes we’d been talking, the fog had grown thicker. Traffic rumbled past on Bothell Way, headlights muted but the drivers slowed little by the haze.

The howl I’d heard at the apartment complex before leaving sounded again, audible over the traffic. I closed my mouth, the hair rising on the back of my neck. I’d driven almost five miles to get here.

“Anyone you know?” Duncan slanted me a sidelong look.

“No.”

At least, I didn’t think so. Cousin Augustus’s phone call came to mind.

In the days before I’d started taking the potion, when all of my senses had been keener, even when I’d been in my human form, I’d been able to pick out the differences in howls. It was similar to how a person could tell someone by their voice. But now… As far as I could tell, that howl could have belonged to a werewolf or a timber wolf escaped from the zoo. The fog also affected the clarity of the sound.

“Is there a pack that claims this territory?” Duncan asked.

“The Snohomish Savagers claim all of Snohomish County and a few miles into King, yes. They spend most of their time in northern Snohomish County though. There are a lot more farms and forests there, fewer urban areas.”

The howl sounded again, closer now.

“I assume they patrol all the territory they claim and object to lone wolves.” Duncan drew in his magnet and coiled his rope, done fishing for the night.

It hadn’t occurred to me that the howler might have something to do with him rather than me. Maybe it should have. The pack had ignored me since I left. My mother had never even met her grandkids.

“I’m guessing I wouldn’t be able to talk the woman who wants to have my van towed into vouching for me,” Duncan added.

“You’re suspicious, so, no. Besides, I’m not…” I didn’t want to explain my past or the choices I’d made in my life to a stranger, so I groped for a way to finish that sentence. “My word wouldn’t be sufficient to vouch for anyone, not with the pack.”

“Are you an outcast?” Duncan eyed me contemplatively.

“I left by choice.” I wondered if he could sense that the potion dulled the werewolf in me, making me closer to a normal human with no ability—no irresistible drive—to change. Or it usually did.When its effects weren’t wearing off. When I didn’t need the next dose.

The fog thickened and curled around our legs, so dense that I could barely see my shoes. There was a taint to it, something unnatural that kept the hair on my neck raised and sent a chill through me. The cool, damp air smelled faintly of spent magic, a distinct odor that reminded me of the sizzle of lightning striking mixed with the scent of mushrooms dug straight from the night soil.

Twenty or thirty feet inland from the dock, two red almond-shaped dots appeared, like glowing eyes staring malevolently at us. I gaped. Thosewereeyes.

The fog shrouded the body of whatever they belonged to, but their height made me think of a big dog. Or… a bigwolf? I almost thoughtwerewolf, but my kind didn’t have glowing eyes. Of course, neither did regular dogs or wolves. Was this some apparition? Or an illusion or projection created to scare us?

To scareme?

Duncan stood calmly, though he crouched, his rope and magnet in hand, as if he might use them as a weapon. The magnet was heavy enough to do damage if it clubbed someone, but it was hard to imagine being able to sling it fast enough and accurately enough to strike a wild animal.

The fog stirred, and two more sets of eyes appeared to either side of the first. Up the hill, traffic continued to pass, the drivers unaware of wild animals—wildsomethings—nearby.

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