Page 46 of Way of the Wolf

“There we go,” I murmured as social-media sites popped up, with YouTube at the top.

I opened videos for a channel that showed Duncan, with his beard stubble and wavy, jaw-length gray-shot hair, fishing items out of lakes, canals, ponds, and rivers. A highlighted video showed him in front of a castle, holding a sword aloft.

“Well, better than a fork.”

After watching a couple of videos and surfing back far enough to verify that he’d been doing this for years, I poked through links,searching for a usefulabout mesection. But what I could find didn’t offer much, merely saying he’d been raised in the United Kingdom and traveled the world, seeking adventure—and people’s lost belongings. There was nothing about his rates, about how to hire him, or about what kinds of things he found for his clients.

Most of the videos showed him locating mundane objects, some with historical significance, but I did find a couple of older ones where he was roaming dark forests—and more than a few cemeteries—with hismagic detector. A few blurry apparitions, or something of that ilk, appeared and disappeared in the background. Not surprisingly, those videos had the most views. People did love the paranormal.

“But don’t believe in werewolves.” I remembered Bolin’s statement with bemusement.

Of all the people I would expect to be a believer…

A knock on the door startled me. Feeling guilty for my research, I closed the browser window before answering.

“There you are,” Duncan said.

“Here I am.”

“You look…” He eyed the attire I’d chosen for the night. “Comfortable.”

Did that mean I looked homely?

Crossing my arms over my chest, I said, “Sweatpants and hoodies are easy to remove in a pinch. I’m not so wealthy that I can afford to buy new clothes every time I change too abruptly to remove them in time.”

“That’s what I do. Takes the stress out of jeans fasteners that are hard to unbutton quickly.”

“You must be raking in the YouTube ad revenue.”

His eyes gleamed. “You checked out my channel? I’m touched by your interest.”

“I like to research weirdos before I get in a van with them.” Ilooked toward the parking lot, assuming he meant to drive us out somewhere to hunt, not hope to get lucky with opossums and raccoons in the wetlands between houses in Shoreline.

“That does seem wise.” Duncan extended a hand toward his vehicle. “In preparation for our evening, I cleaned off the passenger seat and ensured no large and powerful magnets are close enough to scramble your DNA.”

I pointed at him. “Iknewthat was a possibility.”

“Only if you eat a lot of iron.” He smirked and turned toward the parking lot.

I grabbed a bag with my purse, keys, phone, and a change of clothes—just in case. I was not riding homenakedin a van with him. I’d also packed my reciprocating saw and a huge pipe wrench. Mostly to amuse him, but one never knew. If I couldn’t change, and we ran into my family, I didn’t want to be defenseless.

The inside of the van smelled like cleaning solution and machine oil. I peeked back at a tiny bed and kitchen area amid racks of equipment, including the SCUBA gear I’d glimpsed before. Coils of rope, insulated boxes, and a sturdy safe occupied all the space under the bed. If there was a closet or anyplace for all the clothes he supposedly purchased for unplanned changes, I couldn’t see it from the front.

I eased onto the passenger seat, hoping I wasn’t being a fool for going off with a strange man. Though we’d had a lot of conversations in the last few days, it wasn’t as if I’d known him long.

“Please enjoy the refreshing beverage I brought for you.” Before sliding into the driver’s seat, he fished into a cooler and withdrew two chilled cans of soda. “It’s an American staple, I understand.”

“Diet Coke?” I accepted a can and tucked it into the holder. “Beer might be better for taking the edge off.”

“I’ve found it isn’t a good idea to change while inebriated.”

“The authorities frown on that while driving too.”

“Indeed.”

He’d cleared the seat but not the seat well, so I had to prop my feet on toolboxes, heavy bags, and who knew what else that was piled under the glovebox.

“Can you recommend a good place to hunt?” Duncan closed his door and started the van. It was old enough to take a key in the ignition.

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