Page 36 of Curse of the Wolf
I’d obliquely asked that already but not directly. Of course, he could avoid answering questions, either way. And, as the silence stretched, I assumed he would do exactly that.
After a few minutes, Duncan took a slow breath. “I’ve had a few… twinges.”
“Twinges? Like from the injuries we got when that house blew up?” I touched my bandaged ribs.
“I’ve mostly healed from those, but I’ve been getting some headaches—stabbing pains, you might call them. Back behind here.” Duncan touched the scar on his forehead.
My earlier anxiety returned, a heavy pit in my stomach.
“And I’ve felt less hale than usual. I woke up nauseated and threw up this morning.”
“I don’t suppose it was just a hangover?”
“I haven’t been drinking the questionable concoctions at El Gato Mágico.”
“Have you been back there?” I didn’t care about the paranormal bar, but I was afraid to ask for more details about his illness.
“A couple of times. After Francisco got less skittish around me, he learned to mix up one of my favorite drinks. But I wasn’t there last night. I haven’t been there this week at all.” Duncan shrugged. “Maybe it’s nothing. A wee bug.” He pinched two fingers together, almost touching the tips. “But I don’t get sick often.”
“Werewolves have hardy constitutions.”
“Quite.” Duncan lowered his hand and repeated, “Maybe it’s nothing.”
I gripped the cool, splintered railing of the dock, certain that it wasn’tnothing.
“Or maybe it’s what Abrams suggested?” I whispered.
Duncan shrugged. “He’s told me that tale before, that I am—waslinked to that device. Supposedly, he made the magical connection in my youth, earlier than I can remember. Abrams wanted to ensure my good behavior, to make sure I wouldn’t steal or destroy the control device and run away. I never knew if he was telling the truth or not, and when I escaped… Well, I got away, so I assumed he’d been lying. Of course, I believed at the time that he’d died in the burning of his castle. Even though he didn’t, he must have been injured, too injured to call me back with the device until I was out of its influence. So, you see, I never got a chance to find out if its destruction would affect me the way he promised.”
“Until now. I’m sorry, Duncan. I didn’t mean— Like I said, my plan was originally totakeit, not destroy it.”
He waved away my words. “I don’t blame you for anything.”
Maybe not, but I blamed myself.
“They made enemies of you, threatening you and your family. It made sense for you to strike at them—and to deny them a powerful magically manipulated ally.” Face rueful, his wave shifted to encompass himself. “I’m only now accepting that maybe it’s not all bollocks, that Abrams was right, and I could, as they say in this country, end up pushing up daisies.”
I thought about sharing that nobody said that anymore—he’d probably read the phrase in a book. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he might die. Not nobly in battle or on a hunt but to a magical curse.
“Do you think handing over the artifacts that they want could be a solution to your problem?” I asked, thinking of the special-delivery letter he’d received.
“Oh, moon shadows, no. They’re trying to take advantage of the situation and manipulate us. I can’t see how anyone but a powerful crafter, the kind the world no longer knows, could alter existing artifacts and use their magic to some ends other thanwhich they were made for.” Duncan squinted at me. “Don’t you consider giving the case or anything else to them.”
“I do love it when men give me orders,” I said, though my heart wasn’t in the snark.
“I’d say it was a strong suggestion, but that’s not true. I must absolutely forbid you from making that sacrifice. The medallions belong to your pack, and they may even be able to protect them and our kind in general more than we’ve yet discovered. This definitely has thepower to protect its wearer.” Duncan touched the medallion on his chest. “Maybe not from fire, but it overrode the manipulative magic of the other control device, and I don’t doubt that it can do more. And that case and the artifact within? I felt firsthand its power.”
“Yeah.”
Too bad it hadn’t been enough to heal my mother of her cancer.
“For all we know,” Duncan continued, “the continuing existence of werewolves is tied to those artifacts and others like them. To the medallions certainly. There’s little magic left within the earth, and we need magic to exist. To live.” He fell silent, his gaze toward the pond again.
Since I didn’t know what to say, I leaned against him, my shoulder to his. He pulled up his magnet, rested it on the railing, and wrapped an arm around me.
“Do you want more kids, Luna?”
I blinked at the abrupt topic shift and surprised myself with the answer that came to mind. It wasn’t a firmno. Instead, I said, “I… didn’t think I did.”
