Page 12 of Curse of the Wolf
“I have online alerts set up for a few keyword searches. When this popped up, I went out to find a physical paper to bring to you. I know Boomers struggle with opening links and reading things on their phones.” His tone was teasing, a smirk finding his lips.
“YouknowI’m not a Boomer. I’m barely Gen X.”
His gaze drifted to my hairline. Damn it, Ididneed to make time for a dye session.
“I hope you have keyword searches set up for Radomir, Abrams, and their corporation that has absolutely nothing to do with multifamily properties, so they don’t bamboozle your parents.” I scowled at Bolin before lifting the paper, not holding it as close to my eyes as I would if I didn’t have a young and irreverent witness—how come my vision was perfect as a wolf, but letters were fuzzy when I was in my human form?
“I’m looking into them further.” Bolin sounded serious.
“Good.” I skimmed an article about a robbery in Bellevue, expecting it to tie in to the motorcycle thugs andmyrobbery. But all it mentioned was that the penthouse condominium of a well-to-do real estate mogul had been broken into and a precious antique stolen from a vault. “Oh,” I said when I reached the end.
According to the victim, the antique had been a golden bracelet that featured a wolf head on the top. It had been an heirloom purchased from a collector in Europe decades earlier.
“It looks like Radomir and Abrams are still pilfering priceless artifacts related to werewolves,” I said.
“I wondered if it might be the same people who’ve been sending thugs after you.” Bolin touched his scar. “And anyone in your orbit.”
“Anyone in my orbit carrying a wolf-lidded case, yeah. Andof courseit’s those two. I’m sure it hasn’t suddenly gotten trendy for criminals throughout the Puget Sound area to steal magical werewolf jewelry.”
“The article doesn’t mention if this was magical but…”
“Reporters are notorious for leaving out those details,” I said.
Outside of the paranormal community, few acknowledged that magic existed. Since normal humans couldn’t usually sense it, that wasn’t surprising.
“Thanks for sharing.” I couldn’t imagine how I could use the information, so I handed the newspaper back to Bolin. Maybe it might prove fruitful to talk to the victim and ask for details about the artifact—and if a security camera had caught footage of the thieves—but I doubted it would do more than confirm that Radomir and Abrams were still collecting.
“You’re welcome. I also took a picture of this when our prospective buyers were parked here.” Bolin tapped his phone to pull up a photo.
“You think my ancient geriatric eyes will be able to see it?” I asked dryly.
“I can use the zoom,” he said, deadpan, then held up the phone to show a license plate.
I wouldn’t have guessed the significance except that the fender looked familiar. Ah, yes. It had rammed my truck.
“Since you’re friends with the police now,” Bolin said, “I thought they might look up the address of the owner of the car for you.”
“Dubois and I aren’tthatclose. And I doubt it’s Radomir’s home address anyway. It sounds like he’s been hopping hideouts lately. The bastardknowsI’d like to hunt him down.” Despite my words, I held up a finger and pulled out my own phone for a call.
Bolin raised his eyebrows.
My niece, Jasmine, answered.
“Hey, girl. Any progress with the job hunt?” I felt I should ask about her life before requesting more favors. She’d helped me a lot of late, and all I’d been able to do in return was agree to be a reference for her résumé.
“I’ve had a couple of interviews but no offers yet. Apparently, the real estate business is slow everywhere. Nobody’s buying since prices are high, and interest rates are up.”
“That’s probably why lots of people are applying for apartments at Sylvan Serenity instead of buying condos. Despiteall the reports of odd things happening here, this is a lot more affordable than a mortgage right now.”
“Odd as in murders and werewolves? Or as in a druidic guy who blows up an inflatable garage to protect his hoity-toity SUV from bird poop?”
I didn’t think her tone conveyed that she was falling in love with the druidic guy, despite his attempt to serenade her with rap beats. Poor Bolin.
Aware of him watching—hopefully he couldn’thearthe conversation—I held up a finger and took a few steps away.
“Bolin is more quirky than odd,” I told Jasmine, “and only the werewolves and murders have made it into the papers.”
“Well, they’re not as much of a deterrent as you’d think.” Jasmine didn’t comment on adjectives appropriate for Bolin. “An affordable price is an affordable price. You guys are actually a little below-market on rents. Did you know? Besides, it’s not like the werewolves bother anyone except hoodlums, vandals, and the occasional plump and delectable rabbit.”
