Wolf Marked (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 1)
: Chapter 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.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

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.

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.”

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