Wolf Marked (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 1)

by Veronica Douglas

  “Here.” He pulled a knife out of a beaker with blue liquid. “Cut your palm a bit and fill up this vial.”

  I looked up with my trepidation suddenly in overdrive.

  He smiled. “You’re smart to be cautious. Always be careful with your blood. It’s one of the most powerful components in spellcasting. Never give it out, or at least, never give it to someone you don’t trust with your life.”

  “Why?”

  “Blood is bonded to you. You can use it to make a potion that only you can use, like we are today. Alternately, you can use it to store a little of your power. And that means you can also use it maliciously to cast a spell on someone whose blood you have, though that’s very difficult.”

  My stomach churned. Someone with my blood could cast a spell on me. Thank God I hadn’t given any of it to Jaxson.

  My uncle patiently waited, neither rushing nor coddling me.

  Screw it. I was there for the potion and to learn. I pulled off my heavy glove and drew the knife along my palm, wincing at the bite of the blade. Tilting my hand over the vial, I flexed my palm, careful not to spill any blood on my clothes.

  “That’s enough.” My uncle patted my hand and then grabbed a red potion from the shelf. He dabbed a bit on my cut, and my skin knit back together—though it stung quite a lot.

  “Wow.”

  He chuckled again. “It’s magic.”

  Still in wonder, I put my heavy glove back on.

  He poured the blood into the flames until he had just the right amount left in the vial. “Now you know I’m not going to use your blood for any sinister hocus-pocus.” With that, he handed me the vial. “All yours.”

  I grinned and tipped it into the cauldron.

  A cloud of noxious gas exploded up out of the vat, and I started hacking. “Oh, Lord, I didn’t think the smell could get worse!”

  “It can always get worse.” My uncle coughed. “Okay, time for the spell.”

  He stood over the little black cauldron and began to chant strange words in a language I didn’t understand. Light swirled around the room, and I gasped. Suddenly, I was in whirlpool of vivid green flame, darkness, and my uncle’s words. The workshop shook, and I grabbed the counter. Then there was a tiny puff from the cauldron, and the shadows of the world went back to their normal positions.

  “Holy. Crap.”

  “Oh, right, I should have warned you it gets a little spooky.”

  An hour later, we’d distilled the potion and cooled it. My uncle set the flask on the table. Red droplets floated in the shiny, silvery solution, and I wondered if that was actually my blood. The thought creeped me out. “Are you sure this is safe to drink?”

  “Safe? Perfectly. Appetizing? Absolutely not.” My uncle dug around in the fridge marked Beer, pulled out a plastic bottle full of dark orange liquid, and shook it. “You’re going to want a chaser.”

  “Great.”

  “I’ve found that carrot juice works best.” He poured some in a beaker and set it on the workbench.

  “Do I drink the whole thing?”

  My uncle shook his head. “Not unless you want to be watching your godmother for hours at a time. Just a sip. It will last you a minute.”

  “How does it work? Do I have to do anything?”

  “As soon as you’ve taken a sip, close your eyes and concentrate on your godmother. You’ll see her in your mind, like a movie camera floating in air.”

  I held the flask up to the light. This really didn’t feel safe.

  I took the tiniest sip possible and instantly regretted all my life choices. The potion burned my tongue like acid, and my body jerked in protest. My uncle grabbed the flask before I dropped it and shoved the carrot juice into my hand.

  I chugged it down and swished the last of it around in my mouth, trying to get rid of the residual taste. “Oh, my God! That tasted like electrocuted sardines! What the hell?”

  “Forget the taste! Close your eyes. Think of your godmother.”

  I tried, but nothing came to mind. “I don’t think it’s working.”

  My uncle’s tobacco-scented magic washed over me. “Focus on her face, the way she talks.”

  I felt the power of his magic guiding me. Suddenly the world started to spin, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to combat the lurching vertigo. Then, out of the blackness, I saw my godmother. It was like I was looking through an unsteady handheld camera, but I could see her.

  She shuffled about in her garden, tending to flowers. One of the lawn gnomes had fallen in the path, so she knocked it out of the way. Her lips moved, but I couldn’t hear what she said.

  I ignored my churning stomach and watched her go about her garden chores. I’d always taken it for granted before, but now, the care with which she tended the flowers brought tears to my eyes. A glimpse of what normal had once been.

  Then it was gone.

  I jolted as the vision turned dark and I returned to my uncle’s workshop. “Holy crap, I did it!” I cried.

  He beamed and stuck a cork in the top of the potion, then he handed it to me. “First time’s the charm! Now you can check in, but I’ll warn you, I was able to give you a little nudge with my magic since I brewed the stuff. If you tried on your own, it would be a lot harder. So don’t go trying without me. This stuff can be dangerous.”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  A lie.

  22

  Savannah

  I showed up at the back door of Eclipse at one p.m. and texted Jaxson. Part of me knew that coming to this den of wolves was insane, but I needed answers, and this was the road forward.

  Clearly, I didn’t belong here. Jaxson had asked me to use the back door like a girlfriend he was ashamed of. He probably was. I was a dirty LaSalle, and after last night, I was willing to bet everyone in Dockside knew—and was pissed.

  Before he let me out of the house, Casey had insisted on me taking more of his crazy, military-grade mace. Don’t spray yourself in the face, and don’t let the wolves know you have it, or they’ll kick your ass. I checked my purse. Still there.

  The door opened. Jaxson was wearing jeans and a button-down that stretched across his chest. There was no trace of the monster I’d seen last night. No claws. No honey eyes.

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You came. To say I’m shocked would be an understatement.” His jaw was set as he stepped aside.

  I pulled my sunglasses off and pushed through the door. “Here I am, ready to do your bidding.”

  He stiffened, and his eyes flashed, just for a second.

  “Don’t get any ideas. We’re just scrying. I’ve got the stuff, so let’s do this.”

  I marched through the kitchen, not quite sure where I was supposed to go but not wanting to give up the lead.

  “Left,” Jaxson prompted, as if he could read my mind.

  I turned into the vacant bar, Jaxson following close behind. I could feel his eyes on me, unwavering. And I could almost smell the heat of his desire. Had I missed something?

  Jaxson Laurent hated my guts, and after last night, probably even more so. I snapped him a look that put an end to his wandering eyes.

  His signature filled the room. I knew, very clearly, that I had just walked into his lair—a place that was intimately a part of him. Everywhere I stepped, I felt his warmth around me, even though the bar was cool.

  Then I remembered where I was, and my skin chilled. The wolf den.

  The last time I’d been here, it had been with hundreds of werewolves, all staring at me for parading around with the alpha. At least they hadn’t known who I was, or they would have torn me apart.

  “You cleared the place?” I asked.

  “Just for you, just for an hour.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “We don’t do lunch, so it was just the staff.”

  “But I thought you didn’t think I’d show up.”

  He gave me a wry smile. “Well, I wouldn’t have put money on it.”

  I plopped
down at a raised cocktail table and pulled out a silver flask. Jaxson examined the potion and gave an appreciative grunt. “I’m impressed.”

  “I’m easy to underestimate. It’s my compliant demeanor.”

  He actually chuckled at that. A little sunlight, peeking through.

  “I’m guessing your people didn’t catch those werewolves last night,” I said.

  The sunlight vanished. “No. They outran Sam and Regina in their wolf form. That shouldn’t be possible.”

  “I told you they could go fast. They ran down my car on the open road. It was insane. I was assuming you all could do that.”

  He gave a low growl. “I might be able to catch your car, but they were even faster. They must be using some form of magic to boost their abilities. Or drugs. It might explain those red eyes—they’re not typical, either.”

  I glanced at Jaxson’s hands—hands I’d seen erupt into claws the night before.

  “So how does it work?” I ventured.

  “How does what work?”

  I awkwardly twirled my hair, not quite sure what to say. “Shifting. I hadn’t really seen it happen before last night. Sam—her body twisted and contorted, and her clothes just ripped to shreds like she had just Hulked out. It was crazy. Then she was a wolf and running. Is that what happens? I thought I could hear bones…”

  Jaxson fixed me with a steady glare. “For some of us, yes. We change physically. Our bones shrink and snap, our claws and fangs erupt, and our bodies transform.”

  I shuddered, and his expression darkened. “Seems painful.”

  “Yes,” he growled. “But it’s also a release. Pain that’s close to pleasure.”

  My breath hitched, and I flushed. “But not for all of you?”

  He sighed. “No. Some shifters transform into their animal forms through magic, clothes and all. The rest of us transform physically. We’re called wolfborn. It’s what I am.”

  I imagined Jaxson’s clothes ripping away, revealing a snarling, savage monster. My pulse quickened as fear trickled through me—fear and the faintest hint of…lust?

  Was I insane?

  In my defense, it was rather easy to imagine what lay beneath Jaxson’s shirt. The buttons were practically ripping off already. Did he have to wear rip-away stripper pants? That would be a view.

  Jaxson’s nostrils flared.

  Suddenly embarrassed, I bit my lip and flushed. It wasn’t like he could read my mind, but still, I pushed the conversation forward. “Sam and that other woman, they were wolfborn then?”

  “Regina. Yes.”

  My brain spun and memories of the Taphouse flooded into my mind, killing whatever erotic thoughts had been lurking in the corners of my clearly disturbed head. “As was the man I ran over?”

  Jaxson crossed his arms. “Yes. He was wolfborn, too. We turn back into wolves when we die. That’s why it was so important you could draw his tattoos. We couldn’t see them on the body.”

  I nodded slowly. Things were beginning to make a little more sense.

  Jaxson placed a photo on the table and tapped it. “Lucky for us, the Oldsmobile driver from last night was a shifter. That means he stayed in human form at death. Note the two-headed wolf tattoo on his neck.”

  I briefly glanced at the bloody, burnt body in the photo and looked away, stomach churning. “Just like the others. What does it mean?”

  “I’m working on that. Potentially, it has to do with the myth of a dark wolf god, so we could be dealing with some kind of cult. I’ve got people looking into it.”

  “That’s all? What’s the myth?”

  Jaxson paused and gave me a stern look. “Some stories are for wolves only.”

  I bristled. For a minute, I’d had him on a roll, but now he was locked down again. Really, getting information out of Jaxson was like squeezing blood from a stone. “Fine. What do we know, then?”

  He shrugged. “This suggests to me that they’re part of a larger group—a gang, cult, or rogue pack—and not lone operators. They’re coordinated, and they probably have a leader and a specific agenda. Somehow, you’re part of that plan.”

  I fiddled with the potion. “Well, that’s a start.” At least he was sharing some information with me.

  He put his hands on the table. “Time to see what you can do.”

  I glanced down apprehensively at the vile concoction. “Do you have carrot juice?”

  He dug around behind the bar and produced a milky white plastic bottle full of orange liquid. “OJ okay?”

  “I hope so.” I wasn’t looking forward to this.

  He poured me a glass. I took it, but I didn’t move toward the potion.

  “You’re nervous,” he said.

  I rolled my glass on the tabletop, willing the butterflies in my stomach to settle. “My uncle told me not to do this without him. My aunt said it was dangerous.”

  Jaxson regarded me closely. “I’m here.”

  That should have scared the heebie-jeebies out of me, but it didn’t.

  I took a sip.

  The horrible brew burned my tongue, and I grabbed the orange juice and took a big gulp. “Oh, my God, that’s worse!”

  My stomach churned. Apparently, being orange wasn’t enough.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to focus like my uncle had taught me. I thought about the she-wolf, her tattoo, the drawing I’d made, all of it.

  “What do you see?” Jaxson inquired.

  “My eyelids. Be quiet. I’m concentrating.”

  “Are you sure it works?”

  “Shut up! I used it this morning to scry on my godmother!”

  I gritted my teeth and tried to bring the she-wolf to mind. When I thought of her face, I could only remember the way she’d screamed and clawed at her eyes when I’d maced her. When I thought of how she was dressed, I only remembered the sound of her hitting my bumper, and then the image of her body rolling into the ditch. All I saw was darkness. “It’s not working.”

  Suddenly, Jaxson was behind me. I felt his power vibrating inches away. I gasped as he touched me, and a shock jolted between us, just like the first time we’d touched. His aroma was a drug, and I felt myself melting beneath his fingers.

  He could have anything he wanted.

  “Focus on the woman,” he grunted. “Describe her to me the way you saw her that night.”

  His voice vibrated with power, and as I wanted to do nothing more than please him, I concentrated as hard as I could. “She had long tangled hair, and an angular face. She was wiry, with sinewy muscles and a barbed-wire tattoo around her bicep.”

  I felt his presence around me, pushing me, guiding my mind. It calmed my emotions. Focused my thoughts on that woman who had sent my life tumbling into chaos.

  “What was she wearing?” His breath was warm on my neck.

  “A worn-out tank top. Ripped jeans. A belt with a shiny brass buckle.”

  “What about her eyes?” His hands rested on my shoulder, and I shivered.

  “Crimson. Almost red, like blood.”

  Suddenly, the world swirled around me, and my stomach lurched with vertigo. I was hurtling through darkness, though I could feel myself in the chair and Jaxson’s body pressed close behind mine. My vision blurred, but there she was, looking as vicious as I had ever seen her. Ripped jeans. Tank top. Barbed wire tattoo, and that two-headed wolf on her neck.

  “It’s working!” I gasped.

  My gaze followed her as she moved around the room, as if I were tethered to her like a balloon.

  “What do you see? Describe everything,” Jaxson prompted. The sensations of his signature still wrapped around me.

  “She’s walking through a building with wooden walls. I can’t clearly see what she’s doing. Wait…there’s someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “It’s a man. One of the abductees—I recognize him from the television. I think he’s still alive. He’s on a cot.”

  Jaxson squeezed my shoulder. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Do you see a
ny indication of where she is? Something out a window? A sign?”

  “Nothing.”

  The woman swept around the cot where the man lay, and just for a second, I glimpsed a crimson circle on the floor. “There’s a red ring with symbols all around it.”

  They reminded me of the ring of symbols that had helped contain my aunt’s Sphere of Devouring.

  “Can you look closer?”

  “No, they’re blurry, and she’s moving away.”

  Then my stomach dropped, and I felt like I was being sucked backward through the air. Everything went dark. “Shit,” I muttered, opening my eyes. “I lost it.”

  “Tell me about the ring,” Jaxson growled. “Can you describe it any better?”

  “No, it was just part of a ring with weird symbols. I don’t know magic. Get me a pencil and paper.”

  He retrieved them, and I set about sketching furiously. I’d just glimpsed it out of the corner of my eye, and only part of the ring, but I reproduced it as best I could. Finally, I shoved the sketch toward him. It wasn’t great, but it was all I could get. “What is this?”

  He scrutinized the drawing. “I don’t know, exactly, but it’s some form of ring of containment.”

  I took the paper and traced it with my eyes, wishing I’d seen it more clearly or been able to make out the symbols. “What are they used for?”

  Jaxson hesitated in a way that sent shivers down my spine. “They’re used for summoning demons from the underworld. Not the ones you see here, working around town. Dangerous ones that have to be controlled.”

  Demons. I barely knew what that meant. Zara was a half-demon. I’d seen people with horns. But I could feel the tension in his body, so close to mine, and the thin line of his mouth told me that these were real demons. The things of nightmares.

  My stomach knotted, and I looked up from my drawing. “Why would my attackers be summoning demons? What are they trying to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Truth.

  “Another mystery, then. Did we learn anything?” I leaned back in my chair and slapped my hands on the table.

  “Absolutely. We know at least one of the victims is still alive. That’s something. Second, we know these wackos are part of cult associated with the myth of a twin-headed wolf and that they’re summoning demons. That’s a lot farther along than we were at this time yesterday. You did good work.”