Untamed Fate (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 2)

Savannah

Two hours later, I stepped up to the front door of Aunt Laurel’s house, completely and utterly drained. I had the Soul Knife but couldn’t shake the deep sense of failure. Kahanov had gotten away, and Amal was comatose, trapped in her dreams like the other sleepers.

Everywhere I went, I brought disaster.

Jaxson had called in the Order to secure the tower, and they’d transported the sleeping mage, his lover, and his staff back to Magic Side. Hopefully, the archmages could find a cure for the curse.

I couldn’t bear much more guilt. Amal and the Italians had raised the number of sleepers to eleven. How many more would there be before this was over?

With a weary sigh, I shoved through the door.

“Savy? Is that you?” Aunt Laurel called from the kitchen.

While it was almost five in the morning in Italy, it was only ten p.m. in Chicago, and my family was apparently still kicking it.

I wandered into the kitchen like a zombie.

Laurel and Casey sat at their usual spots around the kitchen table, having dessert. She smiled and motioned to the freezer with her spoon. “You’re just in time for ice cream.”

It was like I’d strolled into a bizarre alternate reality, where everything was sane and homey.

Moving in a daze, I grabbed a bowl of country-style vanilla, topped it with a pile of Fruity Pebbles, and plopped down on a stool.

“You’re so much like your father,” Laurel said, eyeing my ice cream.

Casey stood up halfway, eyes wide. “Gods, Savy, what are you wearing?”

Oh, right. That.

“Uh.” I looked down with no idea how to explain my current appearance. “An Italian man’s clothes. I think they’re really expensive.”

My clothes had been incinerated by magic flames and shredded by a combination of demon claws, flying shrapnel, and plummeting into a bush. There hadn’t been much left. And while the mage had a palatial closet, there’d been nothing for a woman. I’d grabbed a pair of slightly too-tight in-the-hips wool trousers and a not-busty-enough shirt that was currently ready to pop at the seams.

I was pretty sure Jaxson had appreciated that.

I’d also borrowed a scarf and a purse. Technically, a murse. It was real Italian leather, and no one would know the difference.

Casey leaned over to inspect the cuffs of my shirt. “Okay, I’ve got to hear this one.”

Laurel raised her eyebrows. “Seems like you had an interesting night.”

I leaned back. What should I even tell them? Nothing? Everything? I was too drained to care. “I went to Italy and sneaked into a mage’s tower. I fought a basilisk, a blood demon, another one of those noctith demon things, and the blood sorcerer. I managed to live but didn’t catch him.”

My aunt dug into her bowl of ice cream. “My. That’s a lot for one evening. No wonder you seem exhausted.”

Casey waggled his spoon at me. “You haven’t explained how you got the clothes, though.”

I stared at them in disbelief. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

My aunt leaned forward. “Well, give us some details. Sounds exciting. What were you after?”

“Whose clothes?” Casey added. “That’s what I’m most curious about.”

I pushed back from the table. “You two are mad.”

My aunt was taken aback. “What?”

“What I just told you was literally insane. Like, out-of-this-world ridiculous. I don’t know how many times I nearly died tonight. And you act like it was the most normal thing in the world! I know I’m in Magic Side, but this isn’t normal, is it? Please tell me it’s not normal.”

My aunt gave me a knowing smile. “Normal? Of course not. But then again, you’re not normal. You’re a LaSalle. And clearly, you were up to the task, to your credit.”

I ran my hand through my hair in disbelief. “How are you not yelling at me for running around and diving headfirst into dangers I know absolutely nothing about?”

My aunt narrowed her eyes and rested her elbows on the high table. “First, because it’s not my place. I’m here to help, not run your life. Second, it’s been clear from the start that the three ladies have their eye on you, and there’s nothing anyone can do about that.”

“Who?”

“The fates, of course. They have their favorites. From time to time, they pick a mortal and push as much on their plate as they can, just to see if they’ve got what it takes. Thankfully, I think you do.”

My heartbeat rose as my temper twisted like a knife. “You mean this is all happening because some heartless cosmic entity is just fucking with me?”

“It’s happening because you have the capacity to be great. To be special. And that draws danger like a light draws moths from the night. Trust me, my life at your age was an utter nightmare, too. But it made me like iron.”

I gritted my teeth and glared at the table because I didn’t want to glare at her. This was messed up. I despised the way Jaxson could compel me with his alpha presence. The way Kahanov had forced me to sleepwalk into the arms of a demon. The way the wolf inside me could take control of my body. I was tired of being pushed and pulled and thrown around. I wasn’t going to give up control, even to the fates.

“I make my own destiny. I refuse to believe in fate,” I hissed.

“Well, clearly, they believe in you,” she said.

I shoved my bowl of ice cream back as frustration and resentment strangled me to choking. I did my best to broadcast this is not acceptable into the universe.

My aunt studied me silently for a while, then traced her spoon absently around her empty bowl. “What were you after in Italy, anyway?”

I didn’t respond at first. Finally, with a sigh, I popped open my new, expensive-looking Italian leather handbag and pulled out the Soul Knife. Just touching the cool metal made my fingers sting. It felt evil.

I set it down carefully on the table. “This was what Kahanov was after, and we got it. Jaxson Laurent said that the Order should take it, but seeing as I don’t know them from Adam, and since Kahanov is bent on using it to cut out my soul, I thought I would ask you where the safest place to keep it would be.”

My family might be mild lunatics and weapons manufacturers, but they had been fiercely loyal to me. My aunt would know what to do.

She leaned forward and inspected the knife. “May I?”

I nodded in assent.

She picked up the blade and turned it over slowly in her hands. “Very interesting. And dangerous.”

I bit my lip. “To be clear, I’m not asking you to hide it in the house. I’m certain Kahanov will come looking for it, and I don’t want you two or Uncle Pete to be in danger. I’m just looking for advice.”

She put the blade back on the table. “I have a place, but the Order’s vault is more secure. Rumor has it that it’s absolutely impregnable.”

I stared down at the wicked blade. I could feel the wrongness of it with every nerve in my body. It wasn’t just that Kahanov was probably going to use it to sever my soul—the blade itself was evil, I was certain of it.

I reached out but stopped my hand. “Actually, is there any way we could destroy it…maybe feed it to the Sphere of Devouring?”

My aunt smiled sadly. “That’s a very good idea, but I’m afraid it’s extremely hard to destroy an artifact like this. It’s not ephemeral like a spell—it’s magic made manifest. But I think I have a better idea of where to put it.”

“Where?”

She picked up the knife by the blade and handed it hilt-first to me. “Right in your hands. I imagine, considering what you’ve accomplished already, that this is the safest place.”

I kept my hands on the table and didn’t move a muscle to take it. “No offense, Aunt Laurel, but that’s a terrible plan. He’ll just take it from me. It’s like bringing your own carving knife to the Bates Motel.”

“Nonsense. You won’t carry it around in a belt sheath.” She set down the knife and snapped her fingers. With a spark of magic and a twist of mist, an object appeared in her hand.

“Your car keys?” I asked.

“I store them in the ether. Along with my favorite wand, the Demonic Tutelary Texts of Degobraxis the Infernal, a purse, and a few other important or handy items.”

My jaw dropped for a number of reasons.

Seeing as I didn’t immediately protest, my aunt clapped her hands. “Casey, get my ethereal inscription kit.”

“Uh…ethereal?” I stammered.

“The ether is a place between places. What’s important is—” She snapped her fingers, and her keys disappeared. “It will be very hard for Kahanov to find the knife, and if, for some reason, he ever gets his hands on it, you’ll be able to dismiss it at will. It’s not foolproof, but I’m guessing he’ll never suspect you have it.”

Casey returned with a red leather satchel and handed it to Laurel. She opened it and pulled out a tiny vial of ink and a brush. “Give me your hand.”

I did as she ordered, and she began painting little magical symbols on my palm. Her nutmeg signature rose into the air, and electricity flowed through my skin until my hand was vibrating with power.

I sat perfectly still, almost breathless, afraid that if I wiggled, she might mess up a symbol and blow off my fingers or something. Finally, she sat back. “Okay, the next step is to memorize the knife in every detail. You’ll need those details to call it back to you. Tell me when you’re certain you can imagine it exactly.”

I traced my eyes over every inch of the Soul Knife. The bronze dagger was so patinaed that it was nearly pure green. The lancelet blade had a raised ridge down the center and was inscribed with fine runes, though none of the designs meant anything to me.

I turned my concentration to the signature of its magic, which tasted like wine and had the sound of ripe wheat blowing in the summer wind.

“Okay,” I said at last.

My aunt placed her fingers on the back of my hand. “Now, imagine your hand completely empty. Unburdened.”

I focused my mind on envisioning an empty palm, and my aunt began to chant. Her magic flowed along the symbols she had drawn and down into the knife. The scent of nutmeg and the sound of bees filled the air, and then the lines of black runes she had inscribed on my palm began to glow with purple light.

Suddenly, with a swirl of mist, the dagger and symbols disappeared.

I gasped. “It’s gone!”

I turned my hand over, looking for any trace of her magical runes. Nothing.

“Now, the trick is to bring it back. Remember exactly how it was, how it felt in your grasp.”

I closed my eyes and brought to mind the image of the knife. Every detail. Not just how it looked, but its weight and the way it fit in the palm of my hand. I imagined I could feel the signature of its magic, wine and rustling wheat.

With a puff, the knife appeared, and my hand sank with the weight. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

I looked from Casey to my aunt. “I mean, this is crazy powerful. I imagine airport security is impossible.”

My aunt laughed. “Well, yes, but show me the terrorist who wants to pull a knife on a plane full of werewolves, vampires, and sorcerers.”

Fair point.

She pushed away from the table. “And with that bit of hocus pocus, I’m headed to bed. I want to hear more, though, in the morning.”

Casey crossed his arms and leaned back on his stool. “I’m not leaving until you explain why you’re dressed like a man.”

I turned my spoon on him. “Casey, I was considering spilling the beans, but you pestered me one too many times. I will never, ever tell you, and now you’ll go to your grave haunted by the question.”

I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell either of them that I kept turning into a werewolf and was now at risk of ripping through every outfit I owned.

He glared at me with venom in his eyes. “I thought maybe you had a new Italian boyfriend. That’s all.”

“No.”

“I hear you and Jaxson are a thing,” my aunt said, far, far too casually at kitchen door.

The room spun, and the blood drained from my face. She knew. Shit. My eyes flicked to Casey, who looked away with suspicious speed.

I gave the side of his head a death stare. “Casey, you big-mouthed asshole. No, Aunt Laurel. We are not a thing.”

She put her hands on the table and leaned forward. “Savannah, we all like the taste of forbidden fruit. I certainly did at your age.”

“I don’t want Jaxson’s fruits,” I blurted, sending the off-the-rails conversation over a bridge and into the chasm below.

She glanced at her son and frowned. “Keep in mind, I had to rear Casey through his teenage years. The women he brought into this house…there’s a room I can never enter again.”

“Too much. I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me.”

“It’s the room across from yours,” Casey added.

I covered my face with my hands. This was too awkward.

“Do not trust Jaxson, Savannah,” said Aunt Laurel. “The pack care only for their own. When you discover the truth of that, it’ll break your heart.”

My aunt left me sitting at the table in shock, with a half-eaten bowl of ice cream in front of me and an ancient, corroded blade in my hand. I pointed the blade at Casey and wordlessly let him wither beneath my glare.

He slowly got up and backed away. “Sorry?”

With that, he fled. I dismissed the knife and headed to bed, ready to sleep and hopefully wake without the persistent feeling that I was a fraud wearing someone else’s clothes.