Wolf Marked (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 1)

by Veronica Douglas

  “Thanks, Samantha,” I mumbled.

  “Call me Sam.”

  We loaded up in the back of a waiting Jeep and drifted off through the moonlit city. I was too dazed to think, to ask questions, to do anything but watch the lights go by.

  For a second, I thought a black SUV was following us, but it drove past as we pulled up in front of the two-story motel. I craned my head to look up at the giant angular sign and its logo, a big yellow crescent that kept flickering.

  Definitely not the Four Seasons.

  “This is my uncle’s place,” Sam said as we got out of the car, perhaps sensing my sudden trepidation. She helped me check in and even lugged my bug-out bag to my room while I dragged Alma’s oversized suitcase up the stairs.

  Sam winked as she turned to leave. “Don’t worry, hon. Tomorrow, everything will be better, I promise.”

  I triple-locked the door with the deadbolt and chain, and then pulled off my sundress and collapsed on the bed, utterly overwhelmed by the world that had just sucked me in. Scared and exhausted though I was, I was blessed with the ability to sleep almost anywhere, and the bed was good enough.

  Tomorrow would be better.

  11

  Savannah

  The nightmare coiled around me, a python slowly crushing the breath from my lungs.

  The tattooed woman from Belmont chased me through the crowded bar. I shoved left and right, but people with horns and fangs pressed in around me. I could barely breathe, let alone move. In desperation, I dove over the bar, dodging flying cocktails and bottles. But I wasn’t fast enough. The woman lashed out with long claws and dug them into my skin. My blood poured down her fingers, and her eyes blazed with crimson light. “You won’t escape! You’ll give us what we need!”

  When I pulled away, I slipped in my own blood and crashed to the floor. She leapt through the air, face contorting and twisting into that of a wolf. Then she was on me, clawing and biting my neck like a savage animal.

  In the midst of all the chaos, he was there. With one swift move, Jaxson slammed his fist into her chest and sent her flying off my body and onto the bar—just as that tattooed werewolf had done to the driver at the Taphouse.

  I staggered to my feet. The woman lunged for me, but Jaxson finished her with a savage blow. He turned to me, muscles taut and chest heaving. His eyes glowed with golden light, drawing me in, heart and soul.

  But my breathing faltered as my gaze drifted to his hands. They were bloody claws.

  “They’re everywhere, Savannah.” He put his head back and howled, then his whole body began shifting into a wolf.

  I screamed and turned to flee, but everyone in the bar began shifting and howling. The bartender, the musicians, all the staff and patrons, one by one, until there was only one woman left alone, a woman with dark black braids and a jean jacket. I’d never seen her before, but there was something oddly familiar about her face.

  Darkness swirled around her, as if she were gazing through a whirling maelstrom. She smiled at me. “You cannot outrun your fate, Savannah. They’re coming for you. Beware the wheel of fortune. It does not stop. Time is ticking. You need to learn who you truly are so that you can stop the ones who are coming.”

  I screamed and thrashed against my covers, then sat bolt upright, lungs heaving and sweat rolling down my chest.

  A nightmare.

  I ran my fingers through my damp, tangled hair. I wasn’t in my bed. Where was I? A hotel.

  The memories of the previous day rushed back. The bartender, Sam, had sent me here. She’d said that tomorrow, everything would be better.

  Sam was a goddamned liar.

  My skull was pounding, and I regretted everything. My stomach and thoughts churned like Lake Michigan in heavy weather. Too many cocktails. Too many varieties of food. Too much weird city.

  Too much Jaxson Laurent.

  I sat up and rubbed my forehead. I remembered talking with him on the rooftop terrace of Eclipse. About magic and werewolves—which was insane. No wonder I’d had nightmares.

  How much did we have to drink?

  Hazy memories danced through my mind—the bartender flying bottles and cocktails around the room, people with horns and fangs, and an entire jazz band played by one lady.

  I put my head in my hands. God, I must have gotten absolutely plastered.

  Worse, I couldn’t really remember the details of my conversation with Jaxson. Had I really told him that I was attacked by werewolves? Or wait, had he said that?

  Either way, it was bad news. One of us was off our rocker.

  Had he really claimed that magic was real and that werewolves were after me? The logical half of my brain took control. Impossible. I’d had too much to drink and mixed a lot of things up. That sucked, because I was going to have to start weaseling information out of him all over again, and I really didn’t want to be near him.

  Lie.

  What the hell was I going to do?

  Take a freaking shower, that’s what. Because I was gross.

  As soon as I’d gotten into my room last night, I’d stripped off my sundress and face-planted into the bed. Normally, I’d shower before crawling between the sheets, but the day had just knocked me out cold.

  I staggered out of bed and retrieved my crumpled dress from the back of the chair. It smelled faintly of sweat, car exhaust, and burning coolant. Man, I’d been some date—underdressed and over-fragrant.

  I sighed. Not that it’d been a date. More like information gathering.

  I peeled off my threadbare undies and slipped into the shower, letting the warm water relax my mind and muscles.

  To be honest, I wouldn’t have minded if it had been a date, even if it had ended weirdly. The place was amazing, and Jaxson was unbelievably hot—burn-your-fingers-if-you-got-too-close hot. He’d been studying me all night, though he’d tried to hide it.

  Unfortunately, Jaxson wasn’t interested, especially not after he’d learned who my relations were. The look on his face on the bridge and in the restaurant had made my skin crawl. Pure hatred. He’d said they were into weapons trafficking.

  And dark magic.

  What did that even mean? I couldn’t be remembering things correctly.

  It was possible that they were the reason I’d been targeted. I needed to find out more about them, to figure out why. Obviously, I’d need to be careful.

  It didn’t help that I was stranded. I didn’t even want to think how much it would cost to repair the Gran Fury. Thousands, for sure, which was more than I had and probably more than the old car was worth. If my family turned out to be sociopaths, I could probably sell it for a bus ticket out of here, but otherwise, I couldn’t leave it behind. That meant I needed a job and a place to stay.

  Panic crept in, and I decided to focus on the short term as I rinsed the soap off, along with any remaining illusions I’d created about Jaxson Laurent. He was a means to an end, a way to get the information I needed. That was all.

  I recalled that I’d agreed to meet with a sketch artist, and that Jaxson was going to send a car at noon. That was something, at least, even if the rest was a blur.

  I got out, dried off, and wrapped the towel around me. Feeling a bit guilty, I texted Alma: I’m ok. Spent the night at a motel. Had a little car trouble, but I’m getting it fixed. On my way soon. Love you. I’ll call you when I get to my destination.

  I didn’t like stretching the truth with her, but it was a lot easier by text.

  The return text had probably taken her four minutes to type on her old brick phone: Love you, too. Don’t worry, no sign of feds.

  That was because they’d already found me, and I was going to meet with one in under two hours. At least it would be a good chance to talk things over, because there was no way that anything I remembered about last night could be real.

  I had no idea what to wear. What casually said, I’m hot and want answers, but I won’t be pushed around? Not like I needed or cared to look hot for Jaxson. I was pretty sure that he
all but despised me, and I wasn’t the kind of girl who tried to impress guys. Normally.

  Biting my lip, I selected some gray jeans that made my butt look great and an airy button-down short-sleeved blouse. I examined myself in the mirror and popped a few buttons to nice effect. It was summer, after all.

  I opened the door to my room and stepped out onto the concrete walkway. A cleaning lady moved her cart out of my way, and her broom scooted along after. Then it began sweeping off the walk.

  All by itself.

  I stepped back into my room, shut the door, and leaned against the wall.

  Savy, you’re not in Kansas anymore.

  I cracked the door and peeked out, making sure not to look at the possessed broom. The lady was cleaning the adjacent room, and I slunk around the corner to spy through the open door. She pointed a stick—a wand—at the bed. The sheets flew off, and a new set zipped off her cart and onto the mattress, followed by a pair of towels that folded into a swan.

  I squeaked in surprise.

  She turned and put her hand on her chest. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there. Can I help you?”

  My mouth worked for a while before I finally spoke. “How are you doing that?” I lamely made folding gestures.

  “Oh, just a little hocus-pocus. Nothing special.” She waved her wand like a conductor, and a couple of mints levitated off the cart and landed gently on the pillows. “Is there anything I can get you? How about a mint?”

  She flicked her wand, and it skipped into the air, hovering.

  I gingerly plucked it from the air and munched it.

  Minty.

  Holy crap. Magic was real.

  The rational part of my mind—which had been screaming in denial against everything I’d seen over the last twelve hours—finally packed up its bags and went on holiday, leaving the clearly insane part of my mind in the driver’s seat.

  I needed something to drink. Probably not alcohol. Espresso.

  “Where can I get some decent coffee?” I asked the cleaning lady.

  “Try Moon Bean, two blocks south.”

  I nodded as if cleaning ladies with telekinetic powers were perfectly normal. “Kay, thanks.”

  With that, I locked my room, strolled down the concrete stairs in a bewildered daze, and headed south to Moon Bean.

  All around me, the city bustled with signs of magic. A shop selling potions. People with horns. Empty dresses sashaying in store windows. It all meant one thing: what Jaxson had told me was true. Magic. My family. Werewolves.

  The hair on my neck stood on end, and I glanced around nervously. They literally could be anywhere. Anyone could be a werewolf. The backwoods couple had looked normal until their eyes turned blood-red and their hands grew claws.

  I jogged the last couple of steps to Moon Bean.

  As soon as I pushed through the door, the scent of freshly ground coffee and toasted pastries wafted over me. A short, gangly creature with wings pulled a shot of espresso from the machine and then started frothing milk.

  I immediately turned away, trying not to hyperventilate. Too much, too soon. Instead, I studied the overhead menu and discretely avoided the creature that was actually making the coffee.

  A nerdy kid in a dark yellow apron smiled from behind the counter. “Hi, welcome to Moon Bean. What can I get you today?”

  I kept my eyes locked on the menu. “Uh…a latte?”

  “Anything else?”

  What I needed was information, more than I’d needed anything in my whole life. I could risk making an ass out myself. “So, um, this city is full of magic. And werewolves?”

  He blinked. “Yeah. That’s why it’s called Magic Side.”

  Right. I met his eyes. “Have you heard of a family called the LaSalles?”

  Everyone in the coffeeshop went quiet.

  Damn it.

  The kid leaned forward and gave me a conspiratorial whisper. “Look, lady, you seem new here, but I wouldn’t go poking into their business unless you want to get cursed. They say one look from Laurel LaSalle can turn a man to stone, and I believe it.”

  Okay, dark magic. Check. Jaxson had been telling the truth.

  “What about a man named Jaxson Laurent?”

  The kid made a funny face. “Duh. He’s the Dockside Boss.”

  “What does that mean?”

  The kid looked around the room, clearly uncomfortable, as if he were dealing with a crazy woman—which was a distinct possibility at that point. Barista boy scratched his head. “Uh, it means that he’s the alpha. Leader of the local pack.”

  The sinking feeling in my gut felt like the Titanic had sprung a leak. “He’s the leader of the local pack of…?”

  The kid shot me a bewildered look. “Shifters? Werewolves? Wow, you’re really not from around here, are you?”

  I had to ask, though I knew the answer already. “And that makes Jaxson Laurent a…”

  “Werewolf. He’s, like, the king of the Chicago werewolves.”

  That asshole.

  My fists clenched as my vision blurred. He’d been playing me the whole time.

  Forgetting my coffee, I stormed out the front door but stopped dead in my tracks. A sandy-haired man was watching me from beneath the shade of a trolley stop across the street. He looked down at his phone as soon as I met his eyes, but I recognized that face. I’d seen him chatting with Jaxson last night.

  Was he a werewolf? Were there others following me?

  Panic dumped into my veins.

  There are werewolves everywhere.

  I had no idea who was friend or foe. In fact, I didn’t really know which of the two Jaxson was, either. It was time for a new plan.

  I flagged a passing cab and hopped in. The sandy-haired man looked up and started heading in my direction, and my chest constricted as my heartrate skyrocketed.

  “7546 Wildhaven Avenue,” I told the driver. “And would you please lock the doors?”

  The man on the street slowed and raised his phone to his ear as the cab pulled away.

  A minute later, my phone vibrated with a number I didn’t recognize. I had a sneaking suspicion it was Jaxson freaking Laurent, and I didn’t answer.

  I had no idea what was going on, but I knew one thing. My parents had left a note that if anyone ever came for me, if I was ever in trouble, that I should go to my Aunt Laurel. No asterisk with a note that she might turn me to stone. Just the instruction to go.

  And that’s what I was going to do.

  Ten minutes later, the driver pulled onto a tree-lined street and stopped in front of 7546 Wildhaven Avenue. It was a big red brick house with a wide porch, green trim, and white scalloped siding on the second floor. It looked like it had been built over a century ago and bordered on being a mansion. Sure, the house seemed a little shabby in places, but it was fancier than most of the closely packed apartments that I’d seen so far. It even had a yard.

  Laying eyes on the place set my nerves on end. I had no idea who my family really was. Jaxson had said they were dangerous, but then he was also playing games with information. Withholding. Manipulating.

  I recalled the words of the woman in my dreams: You need to learn who you truly are so that you can stop the ones who are coming.

  I wasn’t about to start believing in dreams, but with everything I’d seen, I wasn’t going to not believe in them either. Whether she was just some manifestation of my subconscious, or the face of fate, she was right that I needed to figure out who I was and how I fit into this world. The LaSalles’ seemed like the place to start looking for answers.

  Maybe they were into bad business, but my aunt might know why I was being targeted. Jaxson certainly didn’t—at least not answers he was going to share.

  I paid the driver. “Can you stay for a few minutes? I’m not sure if anyone is home.”

  “Uh…” The cabbie looked around nervously, and then started counting the cash in his hand.

  I gave him another ten.

  “Sure. I can stay a second.”<
br />
  I got out of the cab, headed up the walk to the front steps, and triple-checked the address on the envelope.

  This was it. No going back.

  12

  Savannah

  Straightening my shoulders, I took a deep breath and climbed the stairs. I didn’t see a doorbell, so I slammed the iron knocker three times. The metallic clang reverberated unnaturally through the air.

  Tires squealed as the cabbie peeled away, which didn’t do wonders for my confidence.

  No one responded, but the cab was out of sight, so I was stuck.

  I slammed the knocker twice more before the door suddenly jerked open. An attractive dark-haired man in his mid-twenties opened the door. “Hey, what are you doing?”

  He had broad shoulders and a Van Dyke, and bore just the slightest resemblance to my father. Not that my father would have been caught dead with facial hair. The similarity was possibly a coincidence.

  My voice hitched when I tried to speak. “I’m looking for a Laurel LaSalle.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “And who are you?”

  I sure as hell wasn’t giving that information away for free. “None of your business. I’m here to see Mrs. LaSalle. I have a note for her.”

  He scrunched his nose and held out his hand. “I can give it to her.”

  “No,” I said, stepping back and using the same tone I’d used when I had to tell guys no for the last time.

  His pupils dilated a bit, and he stepped back. “Hey, no need to use your hocus-pocus on me. One minute.” He turned back. “Mom! Some chick is here to see you! She says she’s got a note, and she’s a little sassy.”

  My stomach swam. Holy shit. My aunt was in there. That made the irritating obstruction my cousin—a thought that was a little too much to take.

  Footsteps echoed on wooden floors inside. The man—my cousin—moved out of the way, replaced by a silver-haired woman with a penetrating stare and rings on most of her fingers. “You have something for me?” She held out a bejeweled hand.