DEADLY MAGIC

(Magic Trilogy Book I)

by

Mande' Davis

It's always about blood, because there's magic in blood.

Chapter 1

Rustling leaves interrupted my peace, and my eyes snapped open. Then, the pop of a branch from the tree line in front of me kicked my heart rate up a notch. I sat up and glanced around my sanctuary—a hidden meadow where the woods touched the edge of the medical school's campus—but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. The noise was probably some small animal playing in the bushes. Nothing to worry about.

I took a deep breath and let my racing pulse return to baseline, as I stretched out on my back in the middle of my refuge.

A loud snarl ripped through the meadow. Not a small animal.

I bolted into a sitting position and scanned the edge of the woods but still didn't find the source. The tempo of my heartbeat increased again, as the growl grew louder, echoing around the meadow. It didn't matter if I could see the beast or not. The animal could see me, which made tearing for the cobblestone path to the sitting area by the road a no-go. Whatever was making the threatening rumble approached from my left, where the leaves of the bushes moved.

A wolf.

The huge animal stood just inside the wall of live oaks that bordered the field on all four sides. My hand went to my throat, and I clamped my mouth shut, choking off the gasp that had parted my lips.

This wasn't happening. Over the years, hikers had seen wolves deep in the woods, but never this close to campus. The slate-gray wolf eased forward, slowly stalking.

Running wouldn't do any good. The wolf would overtake me in a few steps, but given the opportunity, I'd still try. I eased into a crouch and locked eyes with the animal to assert my dominance. My heart beat vigorously against my chest, like it might explode right through it. The beast didn't stop advancing. It was coming toward me, teeth bared, hackles raised, and its head down.

My fingernails bit into my thighs, as I waited for the inevitable. There was no escape. The wolf was faster. I'd never been a great runner, so with rapid breaths, I counted down the seconds left in my incomplete life.

The wolf's muscles bunched as it prepared to attack. A primal light danced in its intense eyes and the animal appeared to smile. My insides constricted and popped, like a spring wound too tight.

I stared at the ground, not wanting to see the deathblow.

It never came.

I glanced up. The creature stood motionless, its head cocked to the side, peering into the brush.

A black wolf appeared at the edge of the woods behind the gray beast. A cold burn filled my chest. I'd forgotten wolves hunted in packs.

The black wolf's commanding stance, and the way the gray wolf regarded him, made his alpha status evident.

My gaze darted around the field, searching for a possible escape, as the biblical story of Jezebel played like a movie in my mind. Granted, she was eaten by dogs. But still. I didn't want to die that way. The difference? No one had thrown me from a balcony, which meant I could run.

My adrenaline surged, and I leapt to my feet, sprinting with every ounce of will I possessed.

I cleared about twenty yards, as images of wild dogs tearing Jezebel apart flashed through my mind. The wolves were closing in behind me. Their paws pounded against the ground.

My foot caught in a shallow hole, sending me flying. I landed on my hands and knees, scraping them on the cobblestone path. As I scrambled to get to my feet, I looked back. The gray wolf howled and sprang. Its sharp canines crunched down on my left forearm. A scream rushed from my lungs as crushing pain radiated up my arm. The beast would rip my arm off if I didn't free myself from its jaws.

I drew my other arm back and punched the wolf in the face, but he wouldn't release. Blood ran down my arm as I kicked the gray wolf repeatedly. The black wolf lunged toward me and I shrieked.

The alpha seized the gray wolf's neck and slammed him against a tree.

I scurried backward, and sharp pain bit into my injured arm. The black wolf let out a ferocious growl, its lips peeling off its huge teeth, as it loomed over the other wolf. The gray wolf whimpered and slunk off into the woods.

The obsidian-colored wolf swiveled its head in my direction. I held my breath. My zoology professor's voice played in my memory like a tape-recorded lecture, "The alpha will make the kill, taking his portion before he allows the pack to eat."

A broken branch lay in the underbrush beside the path. I snatched it and clutched the end, ready to swing when the black wolf attacked. Nausea knotted my stomach. The wolf and I watched each other. Its green eyes appeared to study me.

Then it turned and vanished into the woods.

I sat, staring after the animal, waiting for it to leap out at me. I held my weapon in ready position. My arm throbbed. I needed to apply pressure to the bite, but I wouldn't throw down the branch. I inhaled deeply and tried to calm my live-wired nerves. Once I got to my feet, I ran up the path as swiftly as the slippery moss covered stones would allow.

I glanced back. No wolves.

At the end of the walk, I bounded through the trees that cloaked the entrance, ignoring the branches that scraped my face. When I got to the car, I tossed the tree branch into the sitting area.

I sped away, my arm aching. Blindly, I fumbled in the console and found a wad of napkins, then laid them in my lap and pressed my bleeding arm against them. I wanted to get somewhere safe.

Home.

What had happened? Why was I alive? The obsidian-colored wolf had forced the other animal to retreat. Then it just left. Why hadn't the alpha attacked? All my biology knowledge told me it should have. Instead, the black wolf had protected me. Its behavior was peculiar, almost…human.

Thank God for its peculiarity.

I glanced at the passenger seat, and the sealed letter from the bank stared back at me, daring me to open it.

Nope. Wasn't ready to deal with that.

I pulled into my driveway, parked, and ran into the house.

In the bathroom, I assessed my injuries. I had puncture wounds and large tears in my left forearm. I gritted my teeth as I cleaned them with alcohol and applied triple antibiotic cream. I needed stitches, a tetanus shot, and antibiotics. Treating rabies was seriously expensive if it wasn't caught early. Plus, there was that unpleasant brain infection it caused.

Not wanting to spend the rest of my life with a virus eating my gray matter, I called the emergency room, where I worked part-time, and spoke with Cindy.

"What's the matter Lexi?" Cindy's voice was rushed, which meant the ER was probably busy.

"A wolf bit me." I tucked my wounded arm against my chest, as I held the portable phone. "My arm looks bad."

"Crap. You were in that meadow again, weren't you?" She let out an exasperated sigh. "I warned you about those wolf sightings, but you still didn't listen."

"Those happened over a year ago."

"Huh. Tell that to your arm."

"Do you think Dr. Anderson would mind…" I hated asking for help. "I need stitches."

"Come in the side door when you get here," she said.

There were advantages to working in a hospital, like free treatment. But I'd never used the option before.

After a quick trip to the emergency room, and three seriously painful shots, I picked up the envelope lying on the passenger seat. The inevitable couldn't be avoided forever.

I ripped the envelope open, unfolded the letter, and quickly read it. Shit. I crumpled the foreclosure notice in my fist, rolled down the car window, and threw out the note. Littering? Who cared about littering? I was about to be homeless.I put the car in drive and cruised past Evington School of Medicine, as I rubbed my throbbing head. Stress headaches blew. They never responded to pain meds, and I was having more of them.

Students filed out of the main lecture hall, smiling and laughing as they headed to their cars. I wanted to be one of those students, needed to be one of them. I wanted a better life for my brother, Aiden, and me. Becoming a medical student was the first step.

We had debts: my undergraduate loans and the mortgage on our small house. Aiden had used the house as collateral to start his own construction business, which closed after six months. If we could hang on until I graduated we'd be set, our money problems over. But four years was a long time, and I hadn't even been accepted yet. At that point, we could refinance the mortgage, based on my decreased income, which would lower our payments significantly, and we'd be able to catch up on the missed payments.

I gazed at the students' smiling faces, as my fingernails clicked against the steering wheel. A student loan, which every medical student received, would cover my tuition, and room and board. I'd use the housing money to make the monthly mortgage payment, and I'd pay off the mortgage after I graduated.

I slumped in my seat, as the last of the students disappeared into the parking garage. God. I had to get in.

On the way home, I stopped at the gas station right off campus to fill the tank. I was running on fumes, and the vacuum effect had sealed the gas cap in place. With my good arm, I wrenched the cap and cursed. My knuckles blanched from the force, but the damn thing wouldn't budge. Stupid cap.

Since I'd done this before, I had a process. If swearing at the cap didn't work, move on to step two: use the pliers. I marched my sorry ass to the back of the car and dug in the trunk for the pliers.

"Need some help, Red?" a deep voice asked from beside me.

I glanced up at a tall guy with hair the color of anthracite. He was gorgeous—eyes the color of cognac amber and a killer smile that threatened to arrest my breathing. "I don't think you can."

My wounded arm ached, as I continued searching for the pliers, ignoring the hot distraction beside me.

"Really?"

There was a little hiss. I straightened.

He placed the gas cap in my hand. "You're welcome."

I tried not to stare, but it was hard not to. Damn. He was nice to look at, and obviously strong.

"Um, thanks." I watched, mesmerized, as he strolled away, mounted a chromed out, green motorcycle, then flew out of the station.

I stared at the gas cap in my hand and smiled. It wasn't every day Prince Charming came to my rescue. Okay, maybe he wasn't Prince Charming, unless the prince wore a black leather jacket and boots.

After I regained my wits, I filled my tank and headed home. As I drove, I committed everything about Mr. Motorcycle to memory. Not that I expected to see him again, but he was one of those memories I didn't want to forget.

I'd avoided finding the mailbox empty. Look where that had gotten me.

I walked to the end of my driveway, like I'd done every day for the past month. The goal I'd been aiming for my entire scholastic career, the thing that would end our financial worries, might be a few steps away. I broke into a sprint and quickly closed the distance to the mailbox.

My shaking hands opened the door, and in the shadow, near the back of the mailbox, was a large envelope.

Was a large envelope good?

I held the letter, as if it might crumble. I wasn't certain I could even open it. What if a rejection letter was inside, telling me what an idiot I was and that I'd end up serving burgers at the local Sonic for the rest of my life?

If it was, we were going to be homeless.

The front door banged shut, but I couldn't take my eyes off the envelope. My fingers caressed my name on the address label. I couldn't open it.

Suddenly, the letter was snatched from my grasp. I whirled around to face the thief.

"This the one we've been waitin' for?" Aiden's southern accent was more pronounced than mine. He'd never been to college, but bossing around construction workers didn't require perfect elocution. His sky-blue eyes beamed at me from under his auburn hair, which was getting too long. A corner of his lip curled up, as he tauntingly waved the white envelope in my face. I tried to grab it but couldn't.

Rushing him wouldn't have worked because he would've blocked me with his enormous shoulders. Jumping on him would've been the equivalent of a house cat pouncing on a lion. Surprise was my only option.

I sprung forward and seized the letter, jerking it free from his grip. I tore open the envelope, slid out the piece of paper, and read it aloud.

Miss Brighton,

We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance to Evington School of Medicine. Your acceptance letter and tuition deposit, fourteen thousand dollars, are due by July 23rd.

Sincerely,

Dr. S. D. Hunt

Dean Evington School of Medicine

My hand flew up and covered my gapping mouth. I couldn't believe it. Just to be sure, I read the letter again, silently. Aiden wrenched me into a bear hug, lifting me off the ground, spinning us around in a circle. When he set me down, I wrapped my arms around his middle and laid my head against his chest.

"You know, I couldn't have done this without you."

"Oh yeah. I'm the man." He thrust out his chest and brushed off one shoulder.

I nearly choked on the giggle I stifled.

I put the letter back in the envelope for safekeeping. Where was I going to get fourteen thousand dollars? "In the morning, I'll take this to the bank and have the mortgage refinanced."

"Did you have to bring that up?" He ran his hands through his hair. "I told you I'd figure something out."

He looked so young when he worried. After our parents were murdered, he'd been forced to grow up fast and take on too much responsibility. He was only twenty-eight, and he'd been responsible for everything for the past ten years. He'd kept a roof over our heads and food on the table.

I patted his shoulder and smiled. "You don't have to figure anything out. We have the perfect solution."

I waved the letter at him.

He reached out and cupped my cheek in his rough palm. "Look at 'cha. Mom and dad would be proud."

Tears collected in my eyes.

"I have a present for you." He took my hand and towed me up the driveway toward our small, cream-colored brick house.

"I told you no presents." I wiped my eyes with the back of my other hand.

"Was I supposed to listen?" He smirked over his shoulder at me, one eyebrow cocked.

"That was the idea."

Our house was nicer than the other houses in our neighborhood, thanks to Aiden's handiwork. He'd leveled the foundation, repainted the window and doorframes, and patched the leaks in the roof. The house was tiny and outdated, but it was all we could afford. My part-time job at the hospital and Aiden's construction job—he'd been working for a general contractor since his self-owned venture folded—didn't generate an enormous income.

In the kitchen, he handed me a folded piece of cloth. "It was Mom's."

I unfolded the soft blue material. Our mother's silver charm bracelet was nestled inside. I couldn't remember ever seeing her without it.

"I've been looking for this for ages." My thumb gently stroked the silver links. The first few years after she was murdered, I heard its jingling sound in my head as I fell asleep each night, like a haunted lullaby.

"It was at the bottom of a box, inside a glass jar full of sand. Found it when I was cleanin' out the storage locker."

"In sand? Odd hiding place."

Aiden shrugged.

Five charms hung from the bracelet. A crystal drop, the color of blue topaz—my birthstone. Next to it, a garnet-colored stone—Aiden's birthstone. Also a silver crescent moon, a crown, and a star-shaped quartz stone, which had my undivided attention. I remembered fingering the stone when I was very young, as my mother rocked me to sleep. The memory was so vivid, and when I handled the star, a tingle crept up my arm. It was like someone touched me.

I put the bracelet on and gave my wrist a little twist, so I could hear the familiar tinkling. I was never losing it again.

"Thanks." I smacked Aiden's shoulder playfully. He ducked away, holding his arm like I'd actually inflicted some physical harm. I rolled my eyes.

I scratched at the coarse bandage on my maimed arm.

"What the hell happened to your arm?" He'd never been the most observant person. And with all the excitement, I'd nearly forgotten my injury. The numbing agents had worked wonderfully, but they were wearing off.

"I cut myself cleaning the attic." The lie was easier than the truth, which would've invoked a full-on, big brother, protective fit.

"You've got the worst luck." He shook his head, then strolled toward the bathroom.

What would our parents have thought about me going to medical school? I could see my mother crying and my father grinning wildly as he called everyone he knew. I wished they could've shared my happy news with us.

My chest ached as an emptiness slid into place inside me, a void so profound that once it established its hold, I felt hollow. My brother tried to make everything in my life line-up perfectly, his way of compensating for the absence of our parents. It'd never worked. The depression medications the psychiatrists had prescribed hadn't helped either and, eventually, I stopped taking them.

Over time, I simply accepted that something, some integral part of me, was missing, and the Fates were keeping me in the dark. Damn them.

I stroked the star crystal on my mother's bracelet and a memory tickled the wrinkles of my brain.

"The Fates see and manipulate the future, and meddle in people's lives," she'd said. Well, they had always seemed to enjoy tormenting me. Every time I thought they were done, that they'd actually leave me alone, along came another ordeal—like the wolf attack. How had I gotten the pleasure of being their punching bag? Guess I was just lucky, in a cosmic disaster kind of way.

I placed a pot of water on the stove and waited for the water to boil. Aiden was watching TV in the living room, while I cooked dinner. As I stirred the green beans, the slate-colored wolf's eyes flashed in my mind. The deep vibrating growl that had resonated from its thick throat echoed in my ears. I flinched, then massaged my sore arm as I recalled the pain of the wolf's bite. The memories were so clear and the sound from the beast so loud that the hairs on my arms rose.

A scratching sound came from somewhere behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder, then turned around, facing the gray beast that stood a few feet away.

"Oh no."

The gray wolf scraped its paw against the linoleum, its lips peeling off its teeth as it snarled, then snapped at me. I clutched the counter behind me, flattening myself against it. My body shook, and my screams caught in my throat. A knife lay next to the sink, but there was no way I could reach it. The wolf was between it and me.

How had the animal the gotten in? This wasn't possible. It was just my imagination. The wolf wasn't standing in my kitchen.

The animal snapped at me again, and I yelped. Closing my eyes tight, I counted to ten.

When I opened them, and the wolf had vanished. I slid down the counter, onto the floor, in a useless heap of quivering flesh. This was a mental breakdown, hallucinations being the first sign.

My shaky legs wouldn't support me when I tried to stand. I fell back against the counter and banged my head. "Ow."

Aiden ran into the kitchen. "What's goin' on?"

I rubbed my head. The truth was embarrassing, but it was all I had floating around in my scared witless gray matter. "My overactive imagination. That's all."

"What was it this time? Ghost out the corner of your eye or a creepy sound?" A wry grin stretched across his face.

My chin trembled. "Hellhound."

"A what?"

"Highly aggressive wolf."

"A wolf?" He extended a rough hand down to me.

I took the offer and found myself on my feet immediately. My knees felt like Jell-O, so I backed against the counter again. I'd always been a scaredy-cat, but the wolf had seemed so real.

Aiden laughed his way back into the living room as I picked at my bandage. Water hit the stove burner behind me, hissing loudly. I jumped, then snatched the pot off the burner and stirred in the macaroni noodles. My hands still trembled.

The slate-colored wolf's image was soldered to my mind's eye, so there was no hope of forgetting him. I tried picturing rabbits, squirrels, even a waterfall, but the wolf ate the rabbits, the squirrels, and lapped greedily from the waterfall.

A scratch sounded at the backdoor.

I screamed and dropped the stirring spoon. It hit the stove top with a metallic clang. Oh God.It wasn't happening again.

This time, I didn't dare look. I told myself it was a hallucination, that I was going crazy.

If only it had been something that simple. Crazy could be alleviated with medication. My ailment had no cures.