Page 7 of Way of the Wolf

“You must study… Ah, yes. Of course.” Duncan snapped his fingers. “You come from a family of druids.”

Bolin opened his mouth but didn’t speak, only shaking his head in denial.

“I came across your kind often in the Old World. They’re much rarer here, though I suppose if druids would be found anywhere, it would be in these wooded wetlands.” Duncan waved toward the cloudy sky, though there hadn’t been any rain in two days.

A single police vehicle rolled into the parking lot, the driver sipping from a coffee mug as he maneuvered around broken glass and pieces that had flown off the damaged motorcycles. There was only one other officer in the car with him.

“I’m glad we handled the biker gang on our own,” I said, feeling the pair might have been outmatched.

“Indeed. Since I’ve misplaced my papers, I believe I’ll take myleave.” Duncan eyed one of the apartment security cameras mounted on a lamppost.

I made a note to download the footage later. Duncan hadn’t turned into a wolf—I wouldn’t have missed noticingthat—but it was hard for me to imagine even someone with supernatural strength ripping apart motorcycles. One of the original werewolves of old might have—those great beasts had been tremendously powerful as they’d stalked about on two legs with thick muscles flexing underneath their short fur—but our kind had never been that much stronger than typical while in human form.

“Thanks for helping,” I called after Duncan, trying not to sound grudging. Even if I didn’t trust him and suspected he was up to no good, hehadassisted us. Throwing rocks—and vials—alone wouldn’t have driven off six drugged-up bikers.

Duncan lifted a hand in acknowledgment as he walked away. Instead of heading for his van, he veered toward the woods again. Still looking for lockboxes of gold under the ferns?

“He’s magical,” Bolin whispered, watching Duncan disappear as the police car parked.

“Apparently, you are too.” I raised frank eyebrows.

Encountering people with magic in their blood wasn’t that uncommon, though mundane humans couldn’t usually tellunless they saw someone do something obvious, but I hadn’t had an inkling the Sylvans had paranormal blood. It was possible, however, that my brief meetings with them had occurred during times when I’d recently dosed myself with my potion, when its sublimating effects were strongest. I couldn’t remember.

“I’m just the intern.” Bolin’s smile was nervous.

I looked at the man purse.

“Thanks for helping with my car,” he said, then headed over to address the police.

“You’re welcome.”

I debated if it would be cowardly to let Bolin handle theirquestions. He was just a kid, but hehadbeen the one to call them, and his family owned the complex. Dealing with the authorities always made me nervous, as their response to unearthing paranormal beings was usually to shoot first and ask questions… never.

“Luna?” came an uncertain call from a doorway.

Numerousdoors and windows were open, the heads of tenants sticking warily out. It was the middle of a weekday, but so many people worked from home that one couldn’t count on the place being empty.

I sighed, realizing I wouldhaveto let Bolin handle the police. I needed to attend to the residents and take photos of the vandalized cars for insurance claims. I looked wistfully toward where Duncan had disappeared into the woods, envious of someone with no apparent responsibilities who could treasure hunt in the middle of the day.

My phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket, expecting it to be a tenant with a problem, though most of them only had my work number. The contact that popped up made me stop and stare. Augustus. One of my cousins. One of the pack.

It had been so long since any of them had called me that it surprised me that the number was in my phone contacts. Augustus and I had been close when we’d been kids, and I’d done the werewolf equivalent of babysitting him and his brothers and sisters, but he’d turned into a surly adult, vying for leadership of the pack.

Without answering, I tucked my phone back into my pocket. Given the way the pack had spurned me for my choices, I would prefer to continue not speaking to them.

Something told me I wouldn’t get what I preferred.

4

It was wellinto the night by the time I finished addressing tenant concerns, cleaning up the parking lot, and, finally, installing the toilet, relieved that renter had returned home late so she hadn’t needed her bathroom.

I always laughed at my supposed eight-to-five office hours. Since I lived in a two-bedroom bottom-floor unit in one of the buildings, it wasn’t like I ever truly left work. The tenants knew where I lived, and now a weirdo werewolf with a metal detector did too.

Oh, Duncan hadn’t come by the leasing office or my apartment, but his van remained in the parking lot, so he hadn’t gone far. Whatever he was here for, it had to be more than searching those woods for trinkets.

Every time I walked past his van, I was tempted to call a tow truck and have it removed from the premises, but hehadhelped with the thugs. “I’ll give him until tomorrow to vacate.”

In the meantime, I hoped Bolin would return with a completed police report. I would need that for the insurance claims. His meeting with the authorities had taken longer than Iexpected, and his G-Wagon wasn’t in the lot anymore. I wondered if he’d gone home to talk to his parents about the attack. Or about getting an internship at a less eventful complex.

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