Page 75 of Curse of the Wolf
With our backsto the plugged hole in the wall, we shone our phones’ flashlights around a room smaller than the laboratory we’d left. Built-in shelves and cabinets held all manner of items from jars and vials to decorations from around the world, everything from shrunken heads to glowing geodes to strange fossils. It was only luck that we hadn’t been blocked from entering by some of those cabinets.
Books filled a few cases in the back, old tomes with yellowed pages. Maps and diagrams, many framed and some with notes scribbled on them, lined the walls. A few desks, chairs, and a table occupied the floor space.
I stared at the table. Numerous magical artifacts rested on it, a leather-bound journal open next to them, fresh ink on the pages. I recognized a platter and a pistol. Radomir had made me touch them when I’d been in his office at the lavender farm. And was that… Ivan’s bracelet? Like the other artifacts, it emanated magic. Since I knew who that belonged to, I tucked it into my bag so I could return it later.
“This is Abrams’s workspace,” Duncan said, though I would have guessed that on my own. “I recognize some of this stuff.He had it when I was a kid.” Duncan waved toward some of the knickknacks on the shelves. “I’m surprised he salvaged it after…”
“After you burned his castle down?”
“Yeah.”
I walked to the journal, wondering if we would be able to read the language it was written in. It looked like English, but the cursive script was tiny and jammed together.
“It wasn’t a malevolent burning,” Duncan said.
“I know you were trying to escape. And still lament the loss of the library.”
“That’s the truth. There were so many wondrous tales in there.” He joined me at the table, resting his hands on it and leaning his weight on them.
“I hope your collapse isn’t imminent,” I told him.
“You won’t carry me out if it is?”
“Oh, I will, but it’ll be hard with guardian bugs nipping at my heels.”
Scrapes andtinkscame not only from the room we’d left but the door leading back out to the main area. I tried not to think about how we might be trapped.
“I have no doubt.” Duncan pointed at the journal. “That’s Abrams’s writing.”
“Can you read it?” I asked.
“It’s in English.”
“That looks like the chicken-scratch font. Except a lot less legible.”
“It’s not the finest penmanship.”
“No kidding.”
Maybe Duncan had grown up reading the stuff because he perused it without apparent trouble. Taking pity on me, he read aloud.
“Most of the werewolf artifacts we’ve discovered have yielded few clues about the magic inherent in their kind. Many werecrafted by druids rather than those with lycanthropic blood. One exception is the Medallion of Memory and Power, two of which we’ve recently discovered, having belonged to a werewolf pack originally from the Mediterranean region where the magic of their kind was known to be strong. The werewolves themselves, many generations removed from their more potent ancestors, lack substantial magical power, but, as our silver bullets have proven, they do retain the regenerative magic that we seek to capture. It is not presently known if they possess atypical longevity, but my work on that has progressed well even without lupine influence. Based on our ingredients and my research, and touched by the magic of the medallion, my potions may achieve all that we’ve desired, an elixir that not only causes rapid healing and mitochondrial repair but that extends the life of the imbiber, perhaps indefinitely. Radomir may get his wish, to cash in on being able to sell eternal life to those who can afford it. I only seek to leave behind a suitable legacy and to ensure that those worthy of great longevity have a way to possess it. I’m very close now to locking in that goal. The magic of that medallion is all that I need. I am certain of it. Though the intriguing druidic case may also hold clues. As soon as I have these items, I should be able to successfully complete my life’s work.”
Duncan leaned back. “I figured it was something like that.”
“That he’s trying to create longevity potions?”
“I knew he was intrigued by the regenerative abilities of our kind and trying to bottle that power for humans, as it were. Back when I was a boy, he asked me to bite him. He wanted to be turned into a werewolf so he could easily take blood samples of one to study. In those days, he never mentionedwhathe wanted to achieve or study, so I could only guess. But a few words I’ve overheard since he’s come back into my life… Well, this makes sense.” Duncan waved at the journal. “I know that he once believed our blood was key in figuring things out. Maybehe studied it for a long time before shifting to this, trying to find secrets in magical artifacts.”
“You didn’t bite him, did you?” I would have sensed it if Abrams were a werewolf.
“I refused. I always thought it was a trap or a test, that he wanted me to try and would use it as an excuse to punish me.” Voice low, Duncan added, “He was always quickto punish me.” He flexed one of his hands, the scar tissue around his wrist visible below the edge of his sleeve. “In fact, it was shortly after we argued about that that I made my escape.”
“Do you think hestillwants to be turned into a werewolf?” I almost pointed out that there were plenty of our kind around that he could have asked to bite him, but only those who could turn into a bipedfuris had the power to pass along lycanthropy that way.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t, as he pointed out, convey longevity. That may be why, however, that he had Lykos made. I don’t think the kid is yet old enough to pass along lycanthropy, as that ability, I believe, comes with puberty.” Duncan shrugged, looking toward the door and the wall, the sounds of the guard bugs still audible. “If he’s moved from wanting werewolf blood for his experiments to wanting artifacts, he may be past desiring to turn into one himself.”
“If we could find some samples of what he’s been working on, do you think they could cure you of your problem?” I waved toward the scar on his forehead.
