Wolf Marked (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 1)

by Veronica Douglas

  She was wearing so much perfume, I could feel it with all my senses. Her scent was of nutmeg and hot wax, and the sweet taste of honey. My skin prickled from a sensation that felt like smoke curling over my skin, and as I focused my mind, I could hear a faint buzzing like bees. It felt like happy bees, for some reason.

  It was overwhelming.

  She raised an expectant eyebrow.

  “Uh…” My voice broke.

  “Yes?”

  It was now or never. “My name is Savannah Caine. I grew up in Wisconsin—I think you might be my aunt.”

  The overwhelming sensation in the air intensified, and I felt it wrapping around me like an invisible serpent. The woman’s voice was hard. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  I fought to keep my breathing steady. Something about her terrified me to my core.

  Practitioners of the dark arts. Black magic. Could turn a man to stone with her stare.

  But it wasn’t the things people had said. Instead, it was that feeling of raw, barely restrained power all around me. I’d never felt anything like it, except maybe near Jaxson.

  I pulled out the note my father had left and thrust it forward with a trembling hand, barely able to speak. She snatched it and opened it.

  Brushing my hair back, I steadied my breath. “No, it’s not a joke. I didn’t know about you until yesterday. I’m sorry to bother you, but my father passed away five years ago, and I never knew I had an aunt. I don’t think I’m supposed to know, and I’m not trying to cause trouble.”

  The woman looked at me with hard, penetrating eyes, and then glanced back at the letter. “How do I know you’re my niece and this isn’t some sort of trick?”

  “Uh…” I hadn’t really expected the third degree.

  “Hold out your hand,” she commanded, fury simmering in her voice.

  “What, why?”

  “I will test your blood.” She gestured to my hand.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  She gritted her teeth. “Silas and his family all died. You are either a charlatan trying to make use of your looks and hair to worm your way into some sort of scam, or you are telling the truth, and the fates have been very cruel to me indeed. Either way, I will test your blood for the truth.”

  These people were nutcases. “Sorry, I think I’ve made a mistake,” I said, and turned to leave.

  “Please.”

  The tone of her voice stopped me in my tracks—no longer imperious but pleading. I looked over my shoulder. Her jaw was set hard, as if she were on the verge of tears. “I need to know. Please. A drop of blood for the truth.”

  Apparently, she needed answers just as much as I did. But a blood test? What the hell kind of world had I gotten myself into?

  I sighed and stuck out my hand. When in Oz...

  She grasped it and swiftly pricked my palm with a pin she’d drawn from somewhere. I tried to pull away, but she held my hand in a vice grip. “Who was your father?”

  “Silas LaSalle,” I hissed.

  Another strange, overwhelming sensation surged around me, like a violent storm in the still summer air. A current of electricity rippled through my hand. Then the tiny bead of blood in my palm burst into blue flame, and just as quickly turned into a trail of smoke.

  I jumped back. “Holy crap!”

  Laurel LaSalle met my accusatory gaze with wide eyes. “You’re telling the truth.”

  Before I could react, my aunt threw her arms around me and started weeping into my hair. “Oh, my fates, my fates.”

  She nearly crushed the breath out of me. I’d never had anyone hug me like that.

  I stood there, absolutely petrified, until crazy Aunt Laurel finally disentangled herself. She wiped her eyes and hollered at the top of her lungs, “Casey!”

  The man—my cousin—poked his head out. “What now?”

  Aunt Laurel wrung her hands. “Meet your cousin. Silas’s girl.”

  His eye went wide. “Ho-ly shit. Seriously? We thought you were dead.”

  I arched my eyebrows. “Uh, no. I’m here.”

  Before I could protest, Laurel grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into the house. “Come, come, come.”

  Within seconds, she’d shoved me down on a big, red, overstuffed couch with carved wooden ornamentation. The room was large, with dark wooden floors and molding and lots of big oil paintings hanging on the walls. Laurel sat down beside me, and Casey leaned in the doorway. “I can’t believe you found your way to us, thank fates,” she said. “You must have a million questions.”

  I did. Too many to sort out, but I knew I needed to get the elephant out of the room first. “My parents kept you a secret from me. Why? Why didn’t you come for me when they died? You said you knew about it.”

  She nodded eagerly. “We thought that you’d died in the accident along with your parents. It was hard to resist looking you up, but they said in the event of an emergency, you’d be taken care of. I should have done some digging, even though I wasn’t supposed to…”

  “Why?” That was the biggest question of it all.

  She hesitated for a second. “Your folks wanted to give you a normal life away from Magic Side. Our family is entangled in many things, and when you were born, we didn’t think you would be safe here. Or happy. We didn’t want to jeopardize the world they’d built for you by making contact after their death. But none of that matters now because the die is cast. You’re back with us.”

  I had an uncanny knack for sniffing out the truth, and this was it—but not all of it. I crossed my arms. “What else aren’t you telling me.”

  She paused, contemplating how to proceed. “How much do you know about our family? And about Magic Side?”

  I bit my lip. “Um, that it’s magic?”

  She nodded, waiting for more. At least that suggested I wasn’t entirely delusional.

  I shrugged. “I’m not even sure what that really means. I’ve seen…well, a lot of stuff floating around. To be honest, it’s a little hard to believe. I didn’t know that you or magic or this city existed until yesterday.”

  “Yes, it’s clear that you are unfamiliar with the arcane arts. No one in their right mind would have willingly given their blood to me. Just putting your hand out practically proved you weren’t a charlatan.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Practitioners of the dark arts. What could she have done?

  Aunt Laurel took my wrist. “First lesson you need to learn: never give your blood to anyone. On any account. Ever.”

  My gaze darted between her and Casey. “So…are you both like witches or wizards or something?”

  “Wizards? Are you crazy?” Casey laughed and flopped down onto the other couch. “Wizards are lame. We’re fucking sorcerers. It’s awesome, pew, pew,” he said, making gun hands at the ceiling.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Pew, pew?”

  He lifted his hands, and a billowing ball of flame rocketed upward and dissipated just before it hit the ceiling.

  I screamed and then slapped my hands over my mouth.

  “Casey!” Aunt Laurel shouted. “Not in the house!”

  Cousin Casey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Remember the fire of 1871 and all that. But she needed to see something cool. Like, proof of awesomeness.” Turning back to me, he summed everything up like I was braindead, which didn’t feel far from the truth at the moment. “Mom’s a sorceress. I’m a sorcerer. We do magic. Maybe you can, too.”

  My brain was still trying to catch up with the whole fireball thing, but slowly my thoughts forced their way through the shock and confusion.

  “And my father, was he…?” I swallowed, my mouth parched.

  Aunt Laurel laughed softly, as if suddenly touched by a long-forgotten memory. “Yes. Silas was a sorcerer. A very talented one too—though he was prone to mischief.” She glared at Casey. “That also runs in the family.”

  My mind reeled like a child who’d spent too much time on a merry-go-round. My father was a sorcerer. He could do magic.


  It was a preposterous thought on every level, but I’d just seen my cousin lob a fireball into the ceiling. Proof of awesomeness. That left a glaring question. “What about my mother?”

  My aunt’s expression darkened, just for a moment, and then she gave me warm smile. “No. She wasn’t a sorceress—she didn’t have it in her blood. I’m sure you’re curious, but I’m afraid we only met her a few times.”

  A little shadow passed over my heart, but I shook it off.

  Aunt Laurel adjusted her dress and leaned forward. “Let’s not bury the lead though my dear. You can do magic. I can feel it in my bones.”

  My breath caught as my stomach tumbled. The woman in the dream had told me to find out what I was. Was this the answer? That I was a sorceress? It was definitely a step up from waiting tables.

  I looked at my hand’s wondering where the fireballs would come out. “How can you be certain?”

  “It’s obvious.” Casey snarked. “You’d have to be blind not to see it.”

  “What do you mean, obvious?”

  He waved his hand to encompass all the room. “Everybody who can do magic has a unique signature. It’s something that tickles your senses. The more powerful you are, the more other people can feel. For instance, Mom always smells like nutmeg and sounds like bees. And a lot more when she shows off.”

  I blinked. That checked out, bizarrely. “And do I have a signature?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. It smells a little like sushi, tastes like garlic, and feels a bit like swimsuit rash.”

  My jaw dropped in horror.

  A heavy tome flew off the shelf and smacked Casey in the face hard enough to slam him into the back of the couch. “Ah, shit! My nose!” he cried, then held his head forward as blood trickled over his lip.

  My aunt stared at him impassively. “That was rude.”

  He stood, keeping his head forward, and protested, “I was joking. She’s my cousin, and I just met her. I can’t say she smells nice. That’s creepy.”

  Aunt Laurel flicked her hand, and the leather-bound book flew into the air and reshelved itself. “Sometimes, Casey, the best thing is to say nothing at all.”

  Casey left to stop the bleeding, and Aunt Laurel took my hand and closed her eyes as I tensed. “Your magical signature feels like sunlight and tastes like cold spring water,” she said. “It’s quite strong for someone who has never practiced magic. I suspect you’ve inherited the gift of sorcery. You might be a natural.”

  “What does that mean?”

  My aunt smiled. She twisted her hands, and a rainbow of light drifted through the room. The upholstery changed from red to a pale lime, the dark wooden floors turned to bright pine, and the walls became a cheery shade of white. The curtains brightened and rearranged themselves, and the clutter around the room tidied itself up.

  Her signature of nutmeg and happy bees whirled around me.

  My aunt leaned back. “It means endless possibility, Savannah. For you. Whatever your life was before, it will never be the same. Whatever you had dreamed of doing, so much more is possible.”

  13

  Savannah

  My aunt waved her hand, and the room changed again. “Magic is very strong in our family. It rarely comes naturally—though sorcery can be an exception to that rule. Still, it requires practice. And struggle.”

  She leaned forward and took my hands. “Would you like to learn?”

  My breath caught. What could I say to that? No? Of course not. A day and a half ago, I’d nearly been killed by werewolves.

  “Can I learn to throw fireballs?”

  She smiled. “Let’s find out.”

  My aunt turned to Casey, who’d just returned from washing his face. “Casey! Bring the Sphere of Devouring!”

  I jumped from my seat. “The what?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s well contained.”

  None of those words made me feel any more confident. Quite the opposite. I wrung my hands. “Whatever happens next, I think I’m going to need an explanation first.”

  “Magic takes a long time to emerge in children and cultivate. I’m assuming you don’t want to spend years. In adults, it often manifests in response to a traumatic event.”

  I started shaking my head. Time to run.

  She laughed. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re not going to do anything traumatic to you. But we’re going to speed up the process of you getting acquainted with your magic by sucking it out of you. As I always say, why take the long way, when you can get there faster?”

  Maybe because the shortcut involves a thing called a Sphere of Devouring?

  I didn’t have the strength to make a quip. My fight or flight response was, at this point, just a petrified flight response.

  “Got it!” Casey chirped. Aunt Laurel used her magic to rapidly clear the coffee table, and he set down a heavy wooden platter inscribed with a nine-pointed star and a ring of runes. Some sort of object sat in the middle under a velvet cloth—the Sphere of Devouring, I presumed.

  This wasn’t ominous at all.

  She pulled the velvet cloth away, revealing a floating black sphere. “This little monster,” my aunt said affectionately, “sucks in magical energy and devours it.”

  Casey crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall—notably, on the far opposite side of the room, practically out the door. “We use it mainly when spells go haywire.”

  Aunt Laurel waved her hand at him dismissively. “We’re going to use it to draw your magic out. I’ll turn it on real low, though this little beastie could eat a pretty big hole in this part of Magic Side if I cranked it all the way up.”

  I shook my head.

  She gave me a warm smile that did nothing to ease my nerves. “I know this seems scary, but you can do it.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  My aunt straightened her back and raised her hand in front of the orb. “Put your hand out. Let the sphere draw your magic from you. Memorize every sensation. Learn how your magic feels when it’s flowing from you.”

  Casey leaned in. “Also, don’t touch the ball. It’s like a portable black hole and will drain you dry.”

  Laurel nodded calmly.

  This was insanity. I didn’t trust these people. I sure as hell didn’t trust the werewolves. But I trusted my instincts, and they said I wasn’t going to survive long in this world unless I mastered my magic—whatever that meant—and learned who I really was.

  I stuck my hand out and prepared to die.

  Only I didn’t. “Nothing’s happening.”

  “It’s not on yet.” Laurel traced her fingers along the runes, and a few started to glow blue.

  Suddenly, a vortex of power surrounded me, a whirlpool drawing me toward the sphere. I felt vertigo, like I was falling through the limitless sky.

  “What’s going on?” I stammered.

  “The Sphere wants your magic. Let it have it. Relax. Concentrate on what you’re feeling.”

  Pain.

  No, not pain, cold. Like ice water trickling over my skin and through my veins. Cold that burned. I gritted my teeth as they began to chatter, and the skin of my arm turned pale. I tried to focus on the other sensations around me, but I could only think about the pain, because that’s what everything had become.

  Beads of sweat stung my eye, but I blinked back the tears that pooled in the corners and stared down at the black orb, willing my magic to come.

  Then like a dam breaking somewhere deep inside, cold water poured though my body. Tendrils of bluish-black smoke streamed off my arm, spiraling down into the orb. I gasped with fear and relief. Was that my magic?

  It wasn’t fiery like Casey’s, but shadowy and sinister. Black magic. The dark arts. Maybe I didn’t want to find out what I was. Everything about this felt wrong. Dangerous.

  Fear took root in my chest, and I tried to pull my hand back, but it wouldn’t budge. “That’s enough!”

  The swirling sensations of cold and burning only intensified as my magic spiraled down int
o the ravenous orb. Panic gripped me, and my eyes flew to Aunt Laurel and Casey. What I saw on their faces chilled me to my core—disbelief and terror. Laurel started messing with the device, and Casey was shouting something I couldn’t hear.

  A heart-crushing tightness grew in my chest, and I pressed my eyelids together, feeling tears wetting my cheeks. “Stop!”

  Suddenly, a stinging pain exploded through my palm, and my body jerked backward. The couch I was sitting on screeched across the floor, colliding with the bookshelf behind us.

  My body trembled from shock, and I heaved in a lungful of air. Apart from my gasps and the sound of a book dropping to the floor, the space was eerily silent. “What the hell was that?”

  “Yeah. What the fuck, mom?” Casey snapped.

  Laurel covered the orb. “That wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I’m sorry. You’re new to this and haven’t used your magic before. It was foolish of me to think this might work.”

  She darted out of the room with the floating black orb and its platform, leaving Casey and me staring blankly at each other.

  “It didn’t work? What would have happened if it had?” I shivered at the thought.

  “No, it worked, all right.” Casey grinned. “You’ve just got a shit ton of crazy magic.”

  “Is that supposed to be reassuring? Because it isn’t, you ass.” I shot to my feet and hugged my chest. “Did I just use my magic?”

  Casey drew a hand through his hair. “Technically, you had it vacuumed out of you. But yeah.”

  “What did it feel like?” Laurel asked. I hadn’t seen her return.

  “Unpleasant. Like ice water flowing over my body.”

  “Hmm.” Her brows knit, and she seemed lost in thought. I couldn’t decide if it was worry or perplexity on her face. “When you call your magic, you’re going to focus on that sensation.”

  I choked back a laugh. “On the pain? Great. Is it like that for everyone?”

  “No. Everyone is different, and the sensation would depend on their magic.”

  “And what is my magic? Because it sure felt dark and freaky.”