Wolf Marked (Magic Side: Wolf Bound Book 1)

Savannah

A half hour before sundown, we headed west toward the Midway Plaisance. Jaxson’s contacts at the archives hadn’t gotten back to him about the circle or the tattoo, and digging on the internet hadn’t yielded any results either—not that it would. I’d considered asking Casey, but I figured we’d better hear what the seer had to say first. She might have all the answers we needed.

Jaxson parked along 62nd Street, and we walked north toward the Midway Plaisance, a long, grassy park that ran east-west through the heart of Magic Side. Police had barricaded off 60th, and it was packed with pedestrians and food trucks.

I couldn’t help staring. I hadn’t been out in public since my first visit to Eclipse. The place was packed, and everyone was…different.

A woman with horns and a tail caught my slack-jawed look and winked at me. I went deep red, then turned close to Jaxson to cover my embarrassment. “This is where we’ll meet the seer?”

Jaxson scanned the crowd, barely registering my question. “The fair’s not here yet. We have to wait until sundown.”

Huh?

Jaxson seemed lost in thought, so I didn’t bother asking for clarification. It wouldn’t be a long wait, anyway. The sun was hovering just above the trees on the western end of the park.

Jaxson looked down, as if suddenly noticing me. “You need anything to eat?”

I was starving, but I snapped, “I’m fine.” Then I noticed a truck selling deep-fried smores. “Actually, those.”

If I was going to be held hostage all day, then I might as well live it up.

My fingers were irreparably sticky by the time the sun finally reached the horizon. Someone nearby hooted, and the crowd turned to watch.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I tried to lick marshmallow off my finger.

“Follow me.” Jaxson pushed through the milling crowd to the long stretch of grass that was blocked off by a line of red ribbon. I would never have made it through the press, but people seemed to melt away as if he were death walking among them.

A few car horns honked, and a couple people began chanting as the sun reached the tops of the distant buildings and trees. Soon, the chant swelled through the crowd: “Sun—down. Sun—down. Sun—down.” Over and over.

The words thundered like drums, and car horns erupted from the side streets. It felt like the whole city was chanting, and I couldn’t help the euphoria rising in my chest.

“What’s going on?” I shouted above the din.

Jaxson seemed mildly irritated. “Watch.”

As the crown of the sun slipped below the horizon, the chant reached a fever pitch and cascaded into wild cheers as twilight took over the sky.

Then, as quickly as the din had started, a hush fell over the Midway, and the last echoes of the car horns died away. The air vibrated with magic and anticipation.

I craned my neck, trying to understand what all the fuss was about. Then I saw it—a blue spark zipping down the Midway, leaving a crackling line of energy in its wake. With a burst of electricity that I could feel dancing across the crowd, thousands of sparkling lines spread outward, tracing patterns and squares above the expanse of grass. The earth shook, and a tsunami of sensations washed over me—a cacophony of color, noise, taste, and scent that my mind was too overwhelmed to separate.

A wave of pure magic.

My heart raced. I’d never felt anything like it.

All along the Midway, glowing blue pavilions sprang from the ground like mushrooms. Bursts of crackling magic exploded in the air like fireworks, and in the center of it all, a sparkling blue wheel formed, spinning on end—a floating Ferris wheel. With a crack of thunder, the pavilions turned solid and took on color, and where there had only been grass before, a massive carnival filled the Midway.

The crowd cheered and stampeded over the tape boundaries and into the fair.

“Ho-ly shit,” I whispered as eager people shoved past me. “That was insane. This is insane.”

“Try not to get crushed,” Jaxson said. “And welcome to the Full Moon Fair.”

We pushed our way into the fairgrounds, and my mind struggled to make sense of the riotous colors, sights, and sounds.

“This is all…magic? It just appears out of nowhere?”

“Seven nights every two months, right around the time of the full moon. Hence the name.”

I shook my head, simply unable to wrap my mind around the idea of a whole fair disappearing and reappearing out of nothingness.

Food vendors, exhibits, rides, and shops packed the Midway edge to edge. Thousands of lightbulbs floated overhead independent of any wires. They bobbed gently in the breeze and bathed the fair with warm, cheery light.

I slowly turned. “What is all this?”

A column of smoke streamed up out of the ground, and a brightly dressed man popped into existence. He removed his hat and bowed. “Welcome to the Magic Side World’s Fair, held continuously since 1893! Visit merchants representing every magical city in the world! Behold monsters from deep in the South American jungle!”

Jaxson motioned for me to follow. “Don’t ask questions about the fair. It summons carnival barkers, a type of demon that thrives on attention. They’re hard to shake. Don’t make eye contact.”

I hurried after him as the barker chased behind. “Excuse me, miss, if you are looking for wonder, you can find it here! Along with bizarre magic items, foods you never imagined, and entertainment around every bend!”

Jaxson growled at the barker and pointed at a long-haired man walking in the opposite direction. “That guy over there needs to know what booths are around here.”

The barker hesitated for a second, then scuttled over to the unfortunate man and began pointing out nearby pavilions. “Hello, sir! Are you in need of assistance? Make sure you don’t miss the fine cask ales from Guild City or the world’s largest pumpkin from Magic’s Bend!”

Jaxson locked me with his eyes. “Follow me. Don’t run off, and don’t ask questions. The fortune teller has a tent beside the Egyptian village.”

Egyptian village?

A dozen questions died on my lips as I hurried in his wake past woodcarvers selling broomsticks and booths full of potions. It was so unfair—there I was, at possibly the most amazing carnival on earth, and I was stuck with the self-appointed fun police.

We cut through the crowd with little trouble. It was almost as if they could feel Jaxson’s dark aura coming and instinctually pressed out of the way.

All around, the cacophony of languages roared in my ears, too many to even begin guessing where everyone came from. But it wasn’t only the languages—it was the people. A kaleidoscope of humanity surrounded me. Somehow, I’d never felt like I fit in Belmont, where everyone looked and acted so similar, yet among the unimaginable jumble of unfamiliar faces and horns and even tails, a deep sense of belonging welled up in my chest until I felt I would burst. All these ways of being human made me realize I was no longer alone. That there was a place I could fit in, no matter how strange or awkward or prickly I was.

But Jaxson pushed me onward.

We skirted the enormous Ferris wheel, and finally, I had to stop. How tall was it? Forty stories? Fifty? I craned my neck, my mind whirling as it slowly spun.

Crap. It wasn’t resting on the ground. There were no legs or supports. It just spun there in the air, fifty feet up.

I really wasn’t sure how much more my brain could hold. I opened my mouth to ask Jaxson a question, then remembered the barker demons and tried a statement instead. “It’s gotta be hard to get on and off.”

“It floats up and down,” Jaxson said, not bothering to look at me. He was half-distracted, scanning the fair.

“Huh. This may be the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He grunted. “You haven’t seen much. This is just classic one-upmanship. When Chicago held a World’s Fair in 1893, Magic Side mirrored the event. They invented the Ferris wheel, so we built one twice the size. That flies. Mages have big egos.”

“So this really is all part of the World’s Fair, then, still going after a century,” I whispered, really trying to make it not sound like a question.

“When the Chicago Exposition closed down, ours kept going. It brought a lot of business and outsiders to Magic Side, so we couldn’t stop. But the whole thing’s changed—anymore, it’s a carnival of commerce. You can buy everything in the world you don’t need at exorbitant prices.”

Across the way, a man sat at an easel painting revelers. I pointed. “I need one of those.”

Jaxson scowled. “A caricature? We don’t have time.”

“Ugh. Absolutely not. The last thing I want is a picture of me with my sullen, half-feral taskmaster. I want one of those brushes. They’re…alive.”

Jaxson’s eyes narrowed on me, flooding a deep ochre color, but I ignored him and focused on the artist.

As the man worked, a pair of watercolor brushes helped fill in the details. When they finished a section, they jumped off the canvas and into his dirty water. They jiggled around, and once they were clean, they hopped out, shook off, and dipped themselves in the next color. “We should go,” Jaxson said gruffly.

Life was deeply unfair. There were even red velvet funnel cakes nearby.

I really hated Jaxson Laurent. Unfortunately, without him, I would have been completely lost. The floating Ferris wheel was the only landmark, and there seemed to be no form of organization to the pavilions. Ducking behind a tent where Japanese chefs served seared slivers of beef and octopus from a grill, we turned down an alley between whitewashed buildings, then emerged onto a narrow avenue where men and women in robes haggled with passersby over trinkets and golden jewelry. Overhead, wooden balconies protruded over the streets, and scents of spices and sweet tobacco hung in the air.

The Egyptian village?

We passed a tent with racks of garments woven from exquisite iridescent cloth with golden threads running through it. I impulsively reached out to touch one of them.

“Helwani cloth from Egypt. Those garments sell for tens of thousands of dollars,” Jaxson said nonchalantly.

I froze and let the luxurious material slip from my fingers.

Finally, we reached a small, dark red tent sitting at the base of an obelisk. Giant swirling letters spelled Lady Fortune on a large wooden sign. Beneath it, there was a second sign: Palm Readings $20, Tarot $40, Dire Questions Answered $3000.

Holy hell. $3000?

Jaxson had better damn well be paying.

His signature flared. The people around backed away, and we cut in line. Guilt crept along my skin, and I blushed. The whole city treated him as a king, but he was such a jerk.

Finally, a woman stepped out, an ashen expression on her face.

Jaxson held the tent flap open. “After you.”