Why was this even a discussion? The jalopy barely ran.
I glared, temper rising. “So far, you haven’t cooperated much, even when it’s in your best interest. Think of it as payment for you, insurance for me.”
Savannah jutted out a hip and crossed her arms. “Why are you investigating if you’re the werewolf king? To cover things up? Also, why am I talking to you instead of the magic cops, or whatever it is they have around here?”
Werewolf king? I wanted to ram my claws into the wall. Why did she have to make everything so difficult?
Our pack’s position was perilous. Just because a few exiled dockside wolves might be involved, the Order was tightening the screws. If I couldn’t stop these abductions, they were going to invalidate our extra-legal status. We’d lose the right to practice pack law and prosecute crimes on our lands. The shame would be too much to bear.
But I sure as hell wasn’t going to share any of that information with a LaSalle.
I steadied my breathing and fixed her with an impassive stare. “It’s not a cover-up. Werewolves were involved. I have jurisdiction to pursue and punish them under the laws of our pack. Who better to hunt wolves than other wolves?”
“But why you? Shouldn’t you be sitting on some kind of throne, getting your claws manicured?”
I snarled. “Because I’m the best. Because I’ll see it done right. Or would you prefer your highly competent sheriff to handle the investigation going forward?”
She glared, clearly untrusting, but at least she seemed partially mollified. “Fine. So you’re a natural bloodhound. What more do you want from me, Jaxson? I did your sketch.”
I shrugged. “The sketch is just a start. Even if someone recognizes her, that doesn’t mean we’ll be able to track her down. At this point, we need to consider other ways of moving forward.”
“Like?” she snapped. The fire in her eyes matched her hair.
I glanced through the window into the garage bays to make sure no wolves were eavesdropping. “I’d like you to drink a scrying potion to help us locate her.”
Savannah gave me a You’ve got to be shitting me stare. “What the hell is a scrying potion? I’m not drinking any crazy concoction from a damned werewolf, that’s for sure.”
“Hear me out. Magica drink potions all the time to boost their abilities, heal, or give themselves temporary powers. If we don’t get a match for the sketch, it may be our best shot.” I nonchalantly leafed through the illustrations, trying to act unconcerned, as if this were an everyday request. I hoped no one was listening.
Curiosity got the better of her. “What does it do?”
I gestured to the security cameras. “Drinking a scrying potion gives you clairvoyance for a short time—remote seeing. You take a sip of the potion, close your eyes, and concentrate on the person you need to find. Then you see a hazy picture of them, like you’re an old video camera, floating in the air.”
She looked into the lens of the security cam. “It’s like spying on them with a drone?”
I leaned back against the office desk. “Pretty much. Scrying can give you details of their location or clues to what they’re doing.”
Savannah pointed to her illustration. “Can’t you just do it, then, using the sketch? Why me?”
“Because I’m a wolf. The power to scry isn’t in my blood, but it might be in yours. Plus, scrying only works if you’ve met the person and had a really strong impression of them. That’s key. The stronger your impression, the clearer the picture, and the further the reach of the spell. You would have gotten a very strong impression of your abductors, even if you only saw them briefly.”
She bit her lip as she considered. Every time she did that, it lit an inexplicable heat within me.
The woman was wavering, so I pushed. “Think about it. Just one sip of a potion, and you could help us locate that she-wolf. She’d never know we were watching, and we’d be able to ambush her before she got to anyone else. You could have justice. For yourself, and for all the others.”
Savannah studied my face with a piercing gaze that was beyond her years. It made the hair on my neck stand on end. Those eyes, what was it about her eyes?
“What’s the catch?” she snapped.
She was shrewd. And smart.
“No catch.” I kept my expression steady. “Scrying potions are complicated to make, and each potion has to be attuned to its user. Therefore, it requires a little of your blood as a component.”
She grabbed her purse from the table. “Nuh-uh, mister. Are you insane? I’m not giving you my blood for crazy magic. Do you know what someone could do with that if it fell into the wrong hands?”
“Do you?” I retorted.
She blustered. She didn’t know what she was talking about, but it was clear that the LaSalles had gotten to her already.
I spoke calmly, trying to diffuse the situation and undo the damage, but my temper simmered. “Look, you don’t have to be afraid. We’ll use a potion maker with a stellar reputation—Alia, up in the Midway Dens. You can be there for the whole process. When she takes your blood and when she makes the potion.”
She bared her teeth. “No deal. It’s totally off the table. We’re done here.”
I grabbed her arm. “Where do you think you’re going? This conversation isn’t over.”
“Yes, it is. I’m going back to the LaSalles, you’re going to call me when my car is ready, and on no account am I giving you any of my blood.”
Her signature surged, and I could feel the heat of her anger like the rays of the sun, burning my skin. But my wolf liked her spirit.
“You shouldn’t go back there. It’s not safe.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, her dislike for me palpable. “Well, I feel safe there. Something tells me they have ways of keeping werewolves out.”
I growled. “I can put guards at the Magic Moon Motel. You’ll be safe. I’ll give you an escort.”
“Why are you so desperate to keep me in your territory?” she asked, regarding me closely.
The seer’s prophecy echoed in my mind: Without her at your side, you will not discover the answers you need. But be warned—your adversaries hunt her, too. If you do not stop them, she will be dead before the full moon rises, and with her, the future of your pack.
If I wanted answers, if I wanted to protect her, I had to keep her close and under control. They were coming for her. If I wasn’t there to stop them, we’d lose everything. I was tempted to tell Savannah what the seer had told me, the details of the cards she had turned. But the prophecy was for my ears only—that was the way of the magic. The fates gave you a glimpse of the future, then made you face it alone—and I wasn’t going to cross the fates.
“You’re an asset,” I said. “I’m going to protect you, but I can’t do that when you’re with them. I want you close.”
Her eyes dilated. Arousal? Definitely fury. An interesting cocktail.
Savannah stepped so close that I could feel her breath on my chest, then looked up to meet my eyes. “You want to put me in a box, Jaxson. To lock me in a hotel and strand me here without my car. You want control, but you’re not going to get it. I’m not going to be in some creepy werewolf witness protection program, sitting in a motel room with guards outside. I’m not going to be beholden to you.”
I could practically feel my wolf pacing back and forth in my soul. It liked the challenge. Wanted to fight. I, however, was tired of Savannah’s obstinance, her constant resistance to logical requests. She’d steer off a bridge just to prove to everyone that she didn’t have to drive straight.
I’d had it.
“Here’s the truth, Savannah: you are beholden to me. You want your car back? Then you’re working with me. You want any information about why those werewolves attacked you or what these tattoos mean? Then you’re working with me—and working with me means going back to your motel and staying on pack land so that I can keep these rogue wolves from ripping your entrails out, like they’ve already done to
three others.”
I left her there, shaking in rage and fear, but turned back before I stepped out the door. “Tomorrow afternoon. One p.m. We go to meet the potion maker, and you’re going to figure out what these people are up to. Until then, motel.”
I slammed the door on the way out.
15
Savannah
A cab dropped me off at the LaSalles’ and sped away. I sure as hell wasn’t going straight back to the motel. I was too pissed, too confused, and I didn’t know what else to do.
Casey answered the door. “Where’s your wolf pelt?”
“What?”
He grinned. “You said you were going to go skin yourself a werewolf king. I don’t see a car, either, so things apparently didn’t go according to plan.”
How much should I tell him?
I grimaced. “Jaxson’s holding my car hostage, just like you said. He’s not going to give it back unless I agree to work with him.”
Casey ushered me in. “That’s some serious bullshit. No way can you let a wolf leverage you like that. We should steal your car tonight.”
“Are you kidding? Like, break into the auto body shop and just take the car?”
He closed the door and fastened four locks, one of which started to glow. “Yeah. You gotta stand up to wolves—otherwise, they’ll walk all over you. It’s a dominance game. You can’t let him win. Trust me, we’ve been dealing with this kind of shit for years.”
I had the distinct feeling that Casey and Jaxson were drawing me into a feud that I wanted nothing to do with, and I shook my head. “Look, breaking in is crazy. I’m just pissed. I’ve got an unknown number of bloodthirsty werewolves after me, and I want to bring them down. Clearly, Jaxson does, too. I just—I just hate him using my car against me. It’s the only thing I’ve got left from my folks.”
Casey rolled his eyes. “They’re wolves, Savannah. If you submit, they’ll expect you to submit every time. And if you try to negotiate, it’ll turn into a game of keep away. He’s toying with you to see if you have a backbone. It’s their way.”
I’d pulled off a similar car heist when I’d grabbed the Gran Fury from Randy’s shop. That had gone okay. But then again, I hadn’t had to break in that time, and the car was paid for. It would be a lot different smashing our way into a shop owned by werewolves in the middle of pack land.
Nope. It would feel good, but it was reckless. I sighed and leaned against the hallway wall with my arms crossed.
Aunt Laurel came home an hour later with bags of groceries. She wanted to get the extended family together for a big welcome dinner, but I talked her down. I’d had too many new things today, and I didn’t have room for anything more.
I was tempted to ask her about a scrying potion, but the moment I mentioned Jaxson, she grew cold. “You shouldn’t have gone to meet him. I’m not telling you what to do, but hear this—no sane woman would risk working with that man.”
My Uncle Pete—Laurel’s husband—came home soon after. His signature had the scent of fresh tobacco and tasted like bread cooked in a wood-fired oven. I joined him for a whiskey in the living room. While Laurel and Casey were chatterboxes, he was quiet and reserved, for which I was deeply thankful.
We ended up with Chinese takeout for dinner. I’d braced myself for greasy noodles, but it was actually pretty good, though I didn’t have much chance to eat. Laurel bombarded me with questions, mainly about my dad. I hadn’t really considered that when I’d lost my parents, she’d lost a brother. They’d obviously been close, but after I’d been born, he’d left Magic Side and dropped out of her life. Then he’d died. I was probably her last chance to connect to him and those lost years.
She was forthcoming with information about my father—an older sister who adored her younger brother. He was the best painter. A wonderful potion maker. His runes were precise—whatever that meant—and he could grill a good piece of meat.
Laurel was much less forthcoming about my mother.
“You never knew her at all?” I pried.
“Your father fell in love when he was at college in Georgia, and we never visited. When they moved back here, she was already pregnant with you. We were ecstatic. I thought Casey was going to have another cousin to play with, but then they moved up to Wisconsin soon after. She wasn’t happy here, and they decided that this wasn’t the life they wanted for you.”
“Why? Because of the magic? The werewolves? Something else?”
My aunt looked to her husband. The unspoken answers between them hung in the air. Finally, she turned back to me. “It was all of it, really. It broke our hearts to have them leave, but I would have given up a little of my soul to keep them and you safe and happy.”
Truth.
I bit my lip as sorrow washed over me. I tried to muster the strength to ask her more, but my cell rang. Alma. She wouldn’t call unless it was important.
“Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” I said, then rose and ducked into the other room. “Hey, Alma. Everything okay?”
“Absolutely, honey. Are you all right? Someone put posters all over town that say, Missing: Savannah Caine, last seen on her way to Chicago.”
“What? Is the sheriff an idiot? I’m not missing.” I pushed my palm to my head. Could he be more incompetent?
“He said he didn’t put them up. I asked him to take them down, but he hasn’t yet. I just don’t understand how he knew where you were headed. I didn’t tell anyone you’d left.”
“Okay, thanks for letting me know.” I rubbed my forehead. Just what I needed: a bunch of road signs pointing the werewolves right to me, if they hadn’t already figured out where I’d gone. Since my attackers had been hunting Magica, they’d probably assumed that I’d flee to the biggest magical city around. This didn’t help the situation.
I would have chatted longer, but Alma hung up quickly in case someone was tracking our phone call.
“Everything okay?” Laurel asked when I slipped back to the table.
“Just my godmother checking in on me.”
“She must be worried. You haven’t told her the truth, I assume. Magic Side is a secret, and it is forbidden to tell outsiders who aren’t Magica.”
“She thinks I’m being chased by the men in black. Honestly, I’m probably more worried about her. If those werewolves go after her to get to me…”
My breath stilled, and my heartbeat picked up. I hadn’t really considered the risk Alma might be in.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” my aunt said unconvincingly.
Concern wormed into me, but the problem sparked an idea. An opening.
It was time for a gambit.
I set down my chopsticks and muttered, “I wish there were a way I could check in on her. She doesn’t always answer her phone, and I get worried. Is there any form of magic that, oh, I don’t know, lets you look in on someone?”
I tried to keep my breathing steady.
Laurel raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” said Casey, chewing noodles. “It’s called scrying. Like peeping without permission. It’s totally illegal, probably immoral, and you can get in big trouble.”
“It’s also dangerous,” Laurel noted.
Damn it all, Jaxson.
“Oh,” I said, and dejectedly turned back to my dinner.
“Hey, don’t give up so easily,” Casey leaned forward, whispering, though everyone could still hear him. “Our family happens to be really good at scrying. Kind of one of the things we do.”
I bit my lip, trying to restrain my excitement. “Is it something you could teach me?”
I looked to Laurel, who raised both eyebrows this time and gave me a satisfied smile. “You know, that sounds like an excellent idea. Pete could help you make a scrying potion so you could look in on your godmother. It would be an excellent way to begin practicing your magic.”
I looked to my uncle. “You make potions?”
He didn’t even bother opening his mouth—Aunt Laurel just butted in. “He’s quite talen
ted with potions. That’s how he ensorcelled me. A love potion.” She gave her husband an absolutely licentious look.
“Mom!” Casey blanched and slammed down his chopsticks.
I turned to my uncle, excitement dancing across my skin. “Would you help me?”
Uncle Pete grinned. “How about tomorrow morning?”
I matched his broad smile. “I can’t wait.”
Things were finally coming together. I’d found my family, and while they were clearly into shady shit, my parents had been, too. It almost felt natural to have someone claim to be really good at illegal stuff.
Moreover, I’d learned that I had magic. I’d learned that despite years of being beaten down by work and school and a backwoods upbringing, there might be something special about me after all. I still had no idea why I’d been attacked, but with a scrying potion, I might be able to get some answers without having to rely on Jaxson Laurent.
16
Savannah
After dinner, we cleared the table, and then my uncle came into the room with a tray of beautiful purple flowers with roots, leaves, and all. “If I’m going to help you make a potion, you’ll need to work. Time to prep some potion components.”
Casey snickered. “Welcome to my childhood. And adulthood.”
Uncle Pete set the tray down and tossed me some plastic gloves.
My eyes widened. “Is this for the scrying potion?”
“No, this is just for the family business. This place is a sweatshop. Get used to it,” Casey said.
I pointed to the flowers. “What are these? They’re beautiful.”
“Aconitum,” my uncle said. “We mostly import it, but this is locally grown. It’s a good component for potions, but toxic. Be careful while you’re handling it.”
He showed me how to delicately remove the beautiful, hood-shaped blossoms without damaging them, and then how to clip the leaves and roots. We separated them into little jars. He wasn’t kidding when he’d said they were toxic. My eyes were itchy and began to water.
Laurel joined us, pulling apart the flowers. She regarded me closely, then handed me a box of tissues. “I assume you were unable to get your car back today?”
Wolf Marked (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 1) Page 11