Wolf Marked (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 1)

by Veronica Douglas

  “What the hell is going on?” I demanded. With a million questions whirling in my head, that was the only one with the strength to break free.

  My vision swam, and I staggered back, but the man in black steadied me with his electric touch and raised my chin. His eyes went honey gold, and his voice turned gravelly. “Monsters are real, Ms. Caine. You can’t outrun them, and wherever you go, they’ll find you.”

  My adrenaline surged as inexplicable sensations washed over me. Cold. The scent of pine. And the taste of bitter chocolate.

  Jaxson Laurent loomed over me, and I couldn’t help but gaze into his glowing eyes. “You’re in danger. I am the only one who can protect you, but only if you do as you’re told. Stay in your house unless you’re at work. Don’t leave town. I will take care of everything else.”

  My mind whirled, and my stomach lurched. Monsters are real, and they’re hunting me.

  Somehow, part of me had known that all along. At least I finally had the answer I needed. I was in danger, and Jaxson Laurent was the only one who could protect me.

  Truth.

  Verging on tears, I backed away. “I’ve gotta get home.”

  He nodded.

  I turned, pushed off with my skates, and raced toward the house. Everything will be okay if I do as I’m told. Go home. Don’t leave town.

  Jaxson would take care of the rest.

  Each thrust of my legs took me one step closer to safety, one step further from the nightmare that had become my life. The wheels of my blades whirred, and I was one with the road.

  That was, until I hit a pothole and spiraled head over heels.

  The asphalt ripped into my knees and elbows, and fire coursed through my nerves. Tears formed in the corner of my eyes, and I rolled over to stare at the sun, now tilting far past noon.

  What the hell are you doing, Savy?

  Head throbbing, I staggered to my feet and glanced back at Randy’s Auto Body in the distance. I’d gone to reclaim my car so I could skip town, and suddenly, I was running home like a frightened girl.

  Who the hell was Jaxson Laurent, and what spell did he have over me? When he was near, I couldn’t think or shake the overwhelming urge to please him.

  He must have some pretty damn freaky pheromones.

  I started skating again, slower now as lucidity returned to my thoughts.

  Monsters were hunting me, and the spooks were hunting them. All I had to do was go home, close my eyes, and wait in ignorant bliss for the nightmare to be over. I just needed to obey the man with the honey eyes. But if I chose that path, I’d never get any straight answers. Jaxson wouldn’t even tell me who he worked for.

  What choice do I have?

  My original plan? I could grab my piece of shit car, blow out of town, and hope that I could make it all the way to Chicago in order to…what? Get answers by hunting down a family that was so dangerous, my parents never told me about them?

  Option two was utterly preposterous. No guarantees. High risk of failure.

  But it was a chance for answers. Real answers.

  I bit my lip and slammed on my heel brakes.

  Screw it. I’d never been any good at doing what I was told.

  I rounded the corner and raced down the alley until I reached the rear of Randy’s shop. The back door was open to let the breeze through, so I sneaked in—well, as best I could on skates. Jaxson and his evil vixen were gone, so I stepped over the clutter of hoses and car parts, and smacked Randy on the shoulder.

  He spun. “Hell, Savannah! You nearly gave me a heart attack! What are you doing?”

  I grabbed his shirt. “Will my car run?”

  His eyes went wide. “Y–y–yes.”

  “I’m taking it.”

  “Savannah,” he said, finally getting a full word out, “these people are going to pay for all the fixes to your car. I can do anything, it’s a blank check! It’ll be better than before. I could make a lot of money. You could have a new ride.”

  My car was the most important thing I owned. The last thing my parents had given me. It was filled with promises and broken dreams. But I wasn’t a rube, and I stuck my hip out. “Doesn’t that sound sketchy to you? Nothing in life is free.”

  “But it’s a lot of mon—”

  I tightened my grip and gave him the look.

  I didn’t use it much, just on special occasions. In high school, people had called me “Crazy Eyes.” That was fine by me because I loved Orange is the New Black and Uzo Aduba, and I didn’t really care what people said—as long as I got what I wanted.

  It wasn’t like I’d had any friends to lose.

  Randy, the hapless ass, was now on the receiving end of the look.

  “Let me explain things to you, Rand-dee. I’m taking my car. You’re not going to tell Jaxson or that mean-looking woman, and you’re not going to fess up when they come asking. You don’t know them. You know me. I designed your stupid auto body logo, for what it’s worth. Help me now. I need to get out of town.”

  It was like I was a different person when I was angry. Like I had a snarling, raging force inside me that demanded to be free.

  I guess that’s what happened when your parents blew themselves to bits, and you had to spend the rest of your life walking with your head down.

  Randy looked around nervously. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way I’m going to help you. Those people seem like they leave bodies in places where they’re never found. But I’ve really got to piss, and I’m going to go use the restroom. If you happened to go by the office and take your keys and leave while I’m gone, there’d be nothing I could do about that.”

  I let him go. He looked about ready to wet himself, so it was a pretty good call either way.

  Randy hurried off to the restroom, and I staggered awkwardly to the office on my rollerblades. I was really glad there weren’t cameras because I probably looked like an utter idiot.

  My keys were hanging on a hook inside the door…right next to Jaxson Laurent’s.

  Sometimes, life gave you lemonade, and you didn’t even need to squeeze the lemons.

  A minute later, I was safe in the heavenly confines of my Gran Fury, desperately struggling to yank my rollerblades off. They’d been hell to get on, but this was worse. I didn’t even bother putting on my tennies—I just chucked them on the passenger side along with the blades.

  I fired up the engine, took one second to savor the low rumble of freedom, and rolled out of the garage as quietly as possible. Once I was a couple blocks away, I hit the gas and raced home.

  Soon, doubt crept into my mind. The spooks might be watching me. But I was already committed, and I’d have to risk it.

  I called Alma and explained the situation. As soon as I as screeched to a halt in front of our house, she dragged my bags down the front steps, and we threw them in the car. I kissed her and my familiar life goodbye in under a minute. Then I hit the open road.

  I didn’t bother throwing Jaxson’s truck keys out the window until an hour later when I was in Illinois, roaring down US-20 on my way to Chicago.

  7

  Savannah

  The trip to Chicago sucked.

  My old Gran Fury struggled to stay over fifty, so I had to take side routes. With the summer heat and the passenger window broken, it was like I had a hair dryer blasting in my face the whole way. Heading to Chicago was probably a terrible plan, verging on horrendous. I shuddered as I recalled Jaxson’s warning. Monsters are real, Ms. Caine. You can’t outrun them, and wherever you go, they’ll find you.

  I dialed the old radio to 101.5 FM for a little rock. The speakers had a tendency to crackle and pop and sounded pretty hollow compared to my headphones, but I loved the hazy sound. “Werewolves of London” by Warren Zevon came on, and I started to sing along. The ridiculousness of it lifted my soul.

  Monsters. Ha! What a bunch of bullshit. But something dangerous was definitely going on. I just had to figure out what it was.

  Why had people attacked me? Did it hav
e something to do with my parents? Or who I was? The questions kept looping through my mind like a broken record. I needed answers…but I also needed protection, and I hoped Laurel LaSalle could offer both.

  My parents had kept my relatives a secret for a reason. If they were so dangerous, then maybe they were dangerous enough to keep the monsters at bay.

  Of course, all of that hinged on whether Laurel LaSalle would be happy to see me, which was a pretty substantial assumption.

  Hi. I’m your estranged batshit-crazy niece who thinks she’s being hunted by people with scarlet eyes and clawed hands.

  Maybe I wouldn’t lead with the monsters bit.

  I fingered the note in my pocket. It had to count for something.

  There was just one tiny hitch in my plan to find my aunt: I couldn’t pull her address up in Google Maps, which didn’t seem to recognize a 7546 Wildhaven Avenue in a neighborhood called Magic Side. That wasn’t entirely surprising. My phone was an old Walmart POS. But at least Chicago was on a grid, so I had a backup plan. I decided that I’d come into the city on 75th Street and drive west until I found Wildhaven Avenue.

  Three hours later, the Gran Fury was dangerously close to overheating, and I’d nearly run out of 75th Street. I’d gone slowly, asked for directions twice, and checked the well-hidden signs at every cross-street, but there’d been no sign of Wildhaven or Magic Side.

  Apparently, I’d made several flawed assumptions about how the Chicago grid system worked.

  Pangs of hunger clawed at my stomach, and the stupidity of it all drove tears of frustration into my eyes. I rumbled over some train tracks and just kept driving because I didn’t know what else to do. Businesses with gated windows gave way to apartment buildings, and just as I was about to cross South Shore Drive, I finally saw the sign: Magic Side Exit.

  The arrow pointed straight ahead.

  Goddamned Google Maps.

  I wiped my runny eyes with the back of my wrist and drove along the tree-lined street with my pulse racing. The buildings stopped, replaced by Lake Michigan, a dark expanse of water that glistened in the setting sun. I took the exit onto a long bridge that stretched over the lake toward Magic Side. A wide channel separated the suburb from the rest of Chicago, and I spotted the faint outline of another long bridge to the north. Apparently, Magic Side was an island, like Manhattan.

  Parks full of dark trees lined the lakefront, and the skyscrapers rising from the north end of the island mirrored those of downtown Chicago. The air over the whole city seemed to shimmer in the twilight.

  I glanced at my phone. Google Maps showed me driving over a barren stretch of lake. I reached over and zoomed out. Still no island. I released a deep, exasperated sigh that felt like it contained all the frustration of the day. No wonder I couldn’t find my aunt’s address—the damn phone wasn’t loading that part of the map.

  The stress of the drive flooded out of me. Now that I’d found Magic Side, it should be easy to find my aunt’s house, even in the dark—with or without stupid Google Maps. I flexed my hands on the wheel, feeling confident about my choices for the first time all day.

  Then my car died.

  The headlights went out, and I lost power completely. The car rolled to a halt smack dab in the middle of the bridge, probably half a mile from either end.

  My stomach knotted. The Gran Fury was dead quiet.

  I broke the silence by screaming at the top of my lungs and pounding on the steering wheel.

  Headlights swept through the car, and a horn blared as a Jeep swerved around me, bringing me back to my senses. I was sitting in a dark-brown car with no lights on a dark bridge in the middle of a lake. I tried turning the ignition but didn’t have any power at all, so I couldn’t turn on the emergency flashers. I should have packed road flares, but who actually had road flares?

  Should I get out and flag someone down? My imagination conjured up visions of me standing on the bridge and getting smashed against the guard rail when some idiot driver rammed into the rear end of my nearly invisible vehicle.

  A truck raced by, honking furiously.

  Hands trembling, I called roadside assistance and explained the situation.

  “Where are you, ma’am?”

  “I’m on the bridge between South Side Chicago and Magic Side.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Ma’am, right now your cell phone location is showing you in the middle of Lake Michigan. Can you help us pinpoint your actual location? Do you see any road signs?”

  “I am in the middle of Lake Michigan. There’s a bridge right off 75th Street that connects to the giant island.”

  The dispatcher paused again. “I’m not finding the island you’re talking about.”

  “The one right off Chicago! With two bridges! I’m on the south bridge!”

  “Ma’am, have you been drinking tonight?”

  I hung up and squeezed my phone in rage, which accidently prompted Google Assistant to pop up with a message: “Hi, how can I help?”

  My eyes clouded with tears, but I was desperate. Maybe it would have an answer. “Where am I?” I muttered weakly.

  “Your current location is Lake Michigan, Illinois,” Google Assistant said in a cheerful voice.

  Mid-curse, rolling blue and white lights flashed in my rearview mirror. The cops. Every muscle in my body relaxed. Apparently, the dispatcher had figured things out.

  The white police cruiser rolled past and pulled to a stop in front of me. It had Magic Side Police written in big red letters beneath a blue stripe.

  At least I was in the right place. I eagerly cranked down my window.

  A female cop got out of the car, flicked on a flashlight, and sauntered over. She pointed it in my face, rather unnecessarily. “You’re sitting in the dark with your lights off in the middle of a busy bridge. Are you in need of assistance?”

  Pretty obvious, yeah.

  I kept my hands on the steering wheel, not knowing what these city cops were like. Probably not like old Sheriff Kepler. “Yes, please. My car stalled, and I can’t turn on the emergency flashers.”

  The cop nodded, returned to her car, and dug some flares out of the trunk. She made a perimeter around my car and came back to the window. “License and registration.”

  I had them ready and handed them over.

  The cop looked at them and then handed them back. “I’ll need to see your other ID.”

  “What other ID?”

  She sighed. “I’m guessing this is your first time coming to Magic Side?”

  I nodded.

  She typed something into a tablet. “Reason for visit?”

  God, it was like going to another country. Magic Side wasn’t part of Canada, was it? Did I need a passport? I shrugged, searching for a response. “I have family here. I’m visiting my aunt.”

  The cop looked at her tablet. “Any weapons or dangerous concoctions in the vehicle?”

  “What? No!”

  “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stay in your car and hand over your keys. I’ve got an alert on your license plate, and I need to hold you here until the proper authorities arrive.”

  I handed my keys over in a daze. The Grand Fury wasn’t even running. It didn’t matter.

  She walked back to her car, calling in something on her radio. I couldn’t hear the words over the pounding of my heart.

  What was happening?

  Then the hard truth hit me like a brick.

  Somehow, I’d just stumbled onto a government black site. It all added up. The city wasn’t on the map. I needed another kind of ID, probably military. The cop was acting weird and asking strange questions. And they already had an alert on my license plate.

  That meant one thing. They knew I was coming. The man in the black truck—Jaxson, if that was his real name—had tipped them off.

  Holy shit. Alma’s crazy tin-hat conspiracy theories had been right all along.

  I had definitely seen something I shouldn’t have. Who attacked
me? Some kind of super soldier on the loose?

  I was so in over my head.

  My pulse raced. I’ve got to run.

  But then again, if I did that, they would probably shoot me. I gripped the wheel in desperation and indecision.

  Then a pair of high beam headlights rolled to a stop behind me, and a car door slammed.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror as a well-built shadow stepped into the headlights. I’d know that silhouette anywhere.

  Jaxson Laurent.

  8

  Savannah

  I clenched the wheel with both hands and watched the black silhouette slowly approach in the rearview mirror.

  I’m a goner.

  He paused beside my window, placed both hands against the car, and bent low. I slowly turned my head to meet his gaze.

  Gold flickered in his dark-brown eyes. “Ms. Caine, I thought I told you to stay in Belmont.”

  I was so scared that my hands trembled on the wheel, but his silvery voice still sent shivers down my spine. There were times for pride and there were times for figuring out how not to end up at the bottom of a lake. This was the latter, so I begged. “I’m sorry. I know that maybe I saw something I shouldn’t have, and that I shouldn’t be here. Just please let me go. I won’t say anything. Please don’t kill me.”

  A long pause hung in the air as the man stared, dumbfounded. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  I turned away and kept my gaze locked straight forward. “I know this definitely isn’t some kind of secret facility, but if it was, I sure as hell wouldn’t be dumb enough to mention it to anyone. Ever. Swear to God. I just really want to live.”

  “What?”

  I flicked my eyes toward the city at the far end of the bridge.

  He leaned closer. “If you’re implying that this is some kind of government black site, it’s not. It’s a city like any other. The police are here. You’re safe.”

  His voice was calm and soothing, and a compulsion to meet his eyes again came over me. They were now a deep honey gold, and an inexplicable wave of relief relaxed my muscles.