Wild Magic Book One

By Odette C. Bell

In a city of vampires, dark magic, blood, and history, Lillian is normal. Just not for long. When her powers arise and she almost dies, she’s thrust head-first into danger. And a certain vampire’s arms. The mysterious William Newstead heads the Enforcement Office, the body tasked with controlling magic in Fairbridge. He needs her power – but she’ll do anything to escape it. When a twisted murder plot lands her at the feet of a shady vamp, promising to fix all her problems, she follows him. And he drives her right into the heart of darkness. For vampires in Fairbridge have a secret, and Lillian has one choice. Drown underneath it or accept her magic and rise.
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Wild Magic follows a new witch and a powerful vampire fighting an ancient mystery. If you love your urban fantasies with action, heart, and a splash of romance, grab Wild Magic Book One today and soar free with an Odette C. Bell series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Odette C. Bell
• Release date: Jan 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224766529

Book preview

Prologue

Many years earlier

The door bent as a solid spade smashed into it, the wood splintering.

The screams of the angry crowd throbbed through the floor and into my feet.

My mother clutched me, her fingers coated in sweat, her breath sharp and hard. Yanking me back from the door, she twisted, dropped to one knee, and grabbed me by my shoulders. Head upstairs. Lock yourself in a bedroom. No, she spoke over herself, her fear ramping up, her eyes widening, the once pale-yellow irises becoming sharp blue with terror. "Head downstairs to the basement. Lock yourself in the crypt. Don’t come out for years. Not until you know they’ve gone. Not until you’re safe. Do you understand? Go."

I grabbed hold of her harder. But… they’re just people. Father always told me not to be afraid of humans. You can reason with them. You can reason with anyone—

No one is ever just anything, my love. Not when they’re armed. We’re weak since your father’s death, and the mansion can’t protect us. They aren’t here to talk – they’re here to kill.

Another spade struck the door. The wood vibrated. It didn’t matter that magical spells protected it. They shattered. It sounded like small glass baubles as someone kicked them one by one. I watched a cascade of sparks lurch over the wood, center on the handle, and finally reach the hinges.

My mother’s eyes snapped wider open like someone attached the lids to sprinting horses. She spun and squeezed herself between me and the door. One of her hands fell by my face. The fingers twisted into a tight, white-knuckled fist, and three drops of blood slithered between the crinkled skin as she cut her own palm. Run, William. Run now. Head to the crypt. Forget about me.

Those words felt like a bayonet up against my chest. I threw my slight form forward, grabbed her hand, and shook my head. No. Mother, everything will be fine—

She narrowed the world down until just the two of us stood there. Until the breaking door fell into the background and the angry screams of the mob, too. Until it was just her eyes, just her endearing smile. As she plucked up a stray strand of jet-black hair from my forehead and tucked it behind my ear, she smiled, caressing my shoulder one last time.

One last time….

The world isn’t meant to be easy, my love. You don’t get what you want just by sitting still and believing in the right thing. You must go out and get it. And as for peace, that’s the hardest thing to earn of all. Now go.

Mother, you can just open the door. I assure you, after a little reasoning, everyone will understand.

Someone has set us up. They think we killed one of their children. They are not here to reason, my dear. Now run.

Just reason with them. That’s how the world works—

No, my son, this is how the world works. She twisted her hand, opened her palm wide, and called on magic. It rose from her blood, surging into her skin and rising above it in delicate wisps of glittering gold light. With one shove of her hand, the magic shot toward me. It picked me up, forced its way into my back, and sent me racing through the hallway. It was so strong, I couldn’t stop it. In two seconds, it infected my feet and sped me up. I ran faster than I ever had in my short eight years. Twisting my head, desperate now, my jet-black shoulder-length hair flaring over my face, I watched as my mother turned from me once, her expression grim, all light gone from her eyes, all love gone from her smile.

With one bloodless fist, she stepped forward and opened the door, just like I told her to.

But unlike what I promised her, the crowd didn’t want to negotiate.

She opened the door just as something exploded through it. I saw the lethal edge of a sharpened magical spade, a tool from a wizard supply store. It didn’t match the chant that ripped into the light-filled atrium of our Gothic mansion a second later. Death to monsters. It’s all you deserve.

I watched the spade twist and aim for my mother’s neck. She stood there, as regal as our Gothic mansion, as tall as the central spire, her black hair like an ebony cloak around her elegant face. It framed her yellow eyes, just like the arched windows at the front of the house. They stared out with the resilience of something that’d withstood centuries.

But nothing lasts forever.

The magical spade cut my mother’s neck.

I watched her blood splatter the black-flecked white marble.

The sound would never leave me, the sight wending its way into my heart for good.

Mother, I screamed from the bottom of my soul, but I reached the stone steps leading to the crypt below.

I saw my mother one last time as the mob surged around her, saw her as, even though she knew it wouldn’t work, she reached one open hand out, a hand of trust, of peace.

The magic spade spun around and cut it off at the wrist.

The mob screamed. I screamed louder. And I didn’t stop screaming until my mother’s spell yanked me down to the basement, threw me in the crypt, and locked me away.

When I came out, I’d never be the same.

For reason will only get you so far.

Chapter 1

Lillian Stevenson

I sat on the bus, uncomfortable against the threadbare foam seat, the blue-striped fabric jarring against my black and white patterned blouse. It sported white birds flying through a dark black sky. I’d matched it with a beige skirt, transparent stockings, and the only level of heels I could manage – half an inch. Anything more, and I’d end up face-first in the gutter.

Unlike my friend, Sally. I swear she could wear heels that towered over the tallest buildings in town. She could pull anything off. Including a smile that’d sell a hovel for one million bucks. She was the city’s greatest up-and-coming real estate agent.

She crossed her arms. She didn’t need to take the bus. She did, though – it gave us time to hang out. With her hectic life, it was this, or waiting once a month for a catch-up.

I liked Sally. I needed her to ground me. Today more than ever.

I opened my mouth, but my phone pinged. I pulled it from my small beige and black-trimmed bag, twisting the dented toughened case around as I grimaced. I tapped the screen and let a breath out. It’s fine. It’s not my doctor. And I’m sure it’s fine, anyway. I’m overreacting, aren’t I?

Sally sat back, her designer baby-blue pant suit somehow making her look like she belonged on the bus. What did I mean by that? That she looked cheap? No. Sally looked like she belonged everywhere. If she strode into the most expensive palace in town, that gargantuan Gothic mansion, she could own it with just one wink. I wanted a little of that chutzpah.

Kid, you’re really good at two things.

I perked up. I needed a back rub right now. What are those?

Deluding yourself and ignoring danger.

My eyebrows crumpled together so fast a black hole must’ve sucked them into my nose. … Thanks.

Don’t worry – the last one was a compliment. I have never seen someone so comfortable with the Other Side. When Sally said the Other Side, her voice constricted, somehow hiding itself even though she technically spoke aloud. It felt like she erected a barrier so only I could hear her hiss the Other Side, so only I could see how her face paled and her lips trembled.

I sat up straighter. You deal with vamps all the time. I modulated my voice, making sure it couldn’t travel far. That said, who cared? There were no vamps on this bus. Vamps didn’t freaking travel on buses. They ruled the glitzy side of town. They all owned the most expensive sports cars and didn’t need public transport. As for the other magical races, they didn’t need buses either. Magic was a highly-sought-after commodity. If you had it, they funneled you into work, usually for one of the other races, often the government or the vamps if you were strong.

That’s why my fingers trembled slightly as I shoved my phone back into my pocket, relieved but not reassured. There’s nothing to fear with the Other Side. People are just people. It doesn’t matter if you’re a vamp, doesn’t matter if you’re a mage, doesn’t matter if you’re a witch.

Sally pounced. She shoved in close, her thousand-dollar suit scrunching but somehow not leaving a single wrinkle in the thin silk-cotton blend. Precisely. It doesn’t matter if you’re a witch. And kid, though you are often great at convincing yourself something isn’t real, I don’t think you can convince yourself about this. You have been changing. All the signs are there. Your doc thinks your gene has been activated. It doesn’t matter though. I swear to you – everything will be OK in the end.

I clammed up.

I shook my head and opened my mouth, a million excuses ready on my lips. I couldn’t be a witch – just couldn’t. It didn’t matter that the genes responsible for magic were latent in most of the population, that anything, any trauma, any unusual event could activate them. It was technically rare, but that didn’t matter. It happened. And statistically, it happened to one in ten people at some point. So it could happen to me. But it couldn’t be happening to me.

I crossed my arms harder. My phone pinged again. I ignored it, this time with the haughtiest expression I could manage. I tilted my head back. It’s nothing. I’m not from the Other Side. I don’t have magic. I’m fine.

Sally rolled her eyes. Baby blue, they matched her suit perfectly. She always accentuated them with just the right amount of eyeliner and professionally applied mascara. No clumps, no leaking, nothing out of line. Perfect. As for me, I tried to dress well. Occasionally. Especially when we had important days at work. My hair never sat still. I’d do it up, but it would fidget right out. Wiry and so red, it resembled a ripe apple, you could see me coming a mile off. Even if I tamed my hair for an hour in the morning, I’d have so much frizz by lunchtime balloons would pop on the static electricity.

My hair didn’t match my pale blue eyes. It didn’t make for an interesting contrast – just looked weird. Like the rest of me.

You look good today, Sally lied.

I made a face at her.

No, honestly, you look great. Why are you dressing up, anyway? Important day at work?

I shrugged. As far as any day at the Medical Certification Board can be that important. I am just a lowly administrative grunt.

If you talk about yourself like that, you’ll only fulfill your low expectations. Have a little hope, girl. You know in school they voted you the kid most likely to change the world.

I’d already crossed my arms. I now tried to cross them so hard, I could crush my ribs. That was in preschool. I can’t believe you still remember that. People moved on when they realized I had no pep, no skills, and no style. I swung my head down and patted my blouse. The cheap synthetic fabric rumpled, and I sighed.

Sally leaned in and swept her arm around my back, her lustrous, perfect shoulder-length bob sliding past my cheek. We were chalk and cheese. Sally was the perfect model-esque professional. Me, the bum who could brush her hair with Herculean effort but hardly bothered.

You know why you were voted most likely to change the world back then?

Why?

Sally stiffened, suddenly distracted, and I watched her gaze dart to the side through the dark-tinted windows to our left. We stopped at a set of lights. She didn’t care about the expensive cars below. She cared about the giant blinking billboard to the side.

I twisted around. And there, he stared back at me. Who? Fairbridge City’s new number one enforcer.

I said new. I’d heard on the street that William had lived in Fairbridge City his entire life. Don’t ask me where he’d popped up from. Maybe the Enforcement Office had dragged him out of his crypt after a 100-year sleep. It didn’t matter. The second I looked at him, I shivered on the inside. On the outside too. Hell, I shivered in every dimension.

Cold green eyes stared back at me. Vampire eyes didn’t follow the same genetic rules as human eyes. You often got deep pigmentation impossible in ordinary folk. Someone had taken that gene and dialed it all the way up with William Newstead, Fairbridge City’s new most powerful vamp. I knew little about physics, but if you believed in wormholes, I swear they filled William’s eyes. They stared out at the world like a bridge to another reality. A pretty darn unpleasant one.

Ebony-black, sleek, shoulder-length hair framed his face. Some guys with long hair let it go. But William’s sat perfectly. It made him look more masculine, not less. It brought attention to his carved jaw, his flat lips, and the rigid bridge of his nose.

He wore what he always wore. A slate gray suit, a black tie, a white shirt, and a long jacket, in winter at least. As a little snow glided onto the bus’s window, I reminded myself with a slap it was very much winter. I’d woken this morning to my radiator breaking, the rattling sound like the last dying breath of a corpse.

I shivered at the memory, grabbing my jacket off my knees and shrugging it on. Maybe I just folded myself into my coat for defense against William’s eyes. The billboard was just a picture. I still felt his gaze all over me.

Sally shook but only slightly. I saw the look in her eyes, the flare of interest, the curl at the edges of her lips. You’re comfortable with the Otherworld, Lillian, and you’ll strike up a conversation with a vamp, a witch, or a wizard with zero problems whatsoever. But everyone has their limits.

What’s that supposed to mean?

I’m just saying. One day you’ll find someone from the other world you can’t cope with, someone who reminds you that the other world is just that – totally other.

I thought you were trying to convince me that I could change the world?

She laughed, blushing slightly. Flopping a long, bony hand with a perfect French manicure at me, she shrugged. Yep. But saving the world isn’t easy. One day when you meet your match, maybe he’ll drag you out of your comfort zone. She wiggled her eyebrows at the billboard just as the bus started up and pulled away from the intersection.

I spluttered so loudly, the old lady two seats down turned and shot me a death glare. So I sank back into my jacket, holding the fluffy fake lamb’s wool liner against my skin and pouted at Sally. Can we not joke around, please? I will not encounter the otherworld. Not William, at least. He’s the head of the Enforcement Office. He controls magical creatures. And I’m not magical. I shoved a finger up and made my point in Sally’s face so hard, I could have stabbed through anything she wanted to say and killed it on the spot.

She just shrugged. Fine. Whatever. You hear about the murders? Her tone changed. If you thought for a second that she was the kind to revel in true crime, think again. She was attacked herself as a kid. I watched her skin pale, watched her shoulders shake slightly.

I made a face. I avoided the news these days. There was only so much terror one could pour into their morning without throwing up. No. Where? When? Who? My voice got steadily lower with every question. I should just avoid this conversation, considering Sally’s history. She wanted to talk about it to get it off her chest, though.

Baven University dorms. A girl went missing. I think her name’s Jenny Thatcher or something?

Missing?

Security cameras show her going into her dorm. They never show her leaving.

Maybe she jumped out of the window?

Do you really think in this day and age that universities like Baven don’t have cameras outside?

Maybe she was magical? She could have affected them?

There’s no forensic evidence that they were tampered with. No. She disappeared. The police mages confirmed it.

So why are they certain it’s a murder?

Because her blood reappeared. On the floor 24 hours later. Sally shuddered.

I didn’t have the same instinctive response, even though on paper, I should. I was the weak one with no get-up-and-go. Around magic, though… I didn’t know. You could describe any magical crime to me, and I’d face it with a steely expression.

I guess I was good at shutting my brain down, at stopping it from imagining details.

Anyhow, I’ve got a job for you later today. A creepy haunted mansion just came up on my books. Sally shook again. This time she made a face. Her bottom lip, painted in vivid red, protruded, and she looked like a sad puppy.

And what do you expect me to do with it? My voice became guarded.

What do you mean? You have a talent, even if you don’t want to admit it. You know when a place is really haunted. You can sense spirits.

I’m not magical, I said stubbornly.

OK, she smiled through my protestations, but I really need to know if this place is actually haunted. Here’s the address. She handed me one of her cards with the address on the back. When I didn’t place it in my bag, she unzipped it and put it next to my wallet. Come around five. Text me if you’re gonna be late. She stood, her stop coming up. As the bus shuddered to a halt, she flashed me a smile. Good luck.

I won’t need it, I tried.

She grinned and walked out without another word.

Just as I settled back into my threadbare seat, ignoring the hard base of the metal beneath the worn foam, my phone pinged.

Nothing. It’s nothing— I pulled it out and knew something was wrong the second my hand slid around the phone. I felt this jolt of intuition.

And I hated intuition.

As it tingled in my gut, someone started a fire they’d never put out.

I stared at the text on the screen.

Your powers have come to the attention of the Enforcement Office. Fill in an appointment for today as soon as possible. Failure to do so will be an offense.

I dropped the phone. It clattered onto the floor just as the bus started moving again. A kind old man in plaid picked it up, dusted it off, and handed it to me. I almost dropped it again. As a lump of fear rose in my throat and threatened to choke me, I shuddered, glanced at it, then realized I was an idiot.

It must be a scam.

People got scam texts claiming to be from the Enforcement Office all the time now.

I needed to calm down, breathe, and appreciate I was not magical.

I was comfortable with the Other Side because I knew one thing – I’d never join them.

Chapter 2

I got to work. Fortunately, the bus stopped right in front of it. A blast of wintry wind rocketed down the street as I jumped onto the pavement. It grabbed at my coat, but thankfully it could withstand the gusts. It played around my legs but didn’t lift my skirt beneath. It still sent cold shocks vibrating through the rest of my body and up into my jaw. Then I stepped off the pavement and down the path, turned my head back, and stared at the Medical Certification Board.

It looked like any other office block from the 70s. Seriously, that period of architecture was the ugliest in the history of buildings.

It stood ten floors high. Large, ugly, supporting dirt-brown pillars hugged every corner. Brutalist unpolished concrete sheets sat between them and menacing tinted dark-blue windows sat between those. It looked like an opera cake cast in a color pallet from a swamp. It felt like a soulless box. Appropriate, because this oppressive tower had sucked people’s souls dry for 50 years plus.

If you thought the outside was bad, brace yourself for the inside.

I walked along the short path to the automatic doors. They slid open, and a meager blast of heat met me from the heat pump above them. It couldn’t cut out the chill of the fiendish wintery wind and didn’t even try. This office block always felt a good 20° colder than the outside world.

The foyer, filled with a dirty beige-brown carpet covered in scuffs, stains, and worn-out tracts, led to a large melamine white receptionist desk, a few Perspex screens, one dilapidated palm tree, and three sets of lifts.

I walked over to them, feeling the weight of this place bearing down on my soul.

I got to the lift, opened it, then swung to see my boss hurtling toward me.

She skidded to a stop, her sensible white heels barely teetering. Glad I caught you. He’s in the building.

Alarm widened my eyes. Sorry, who?

Him. Her lips turned in and crunched together like she wanted to rip that word in half. She could do that – she’d never rip the man in half, though.

Fear struck me as I realized who she meant. Doctor Brown.

Yeah, Doctor Brown. Crap. He just won’t give up. The board struck him off, but now he’s coming in to argue his case. We didn’t invite him. I called security. But they’re freaking busy.

They’re always busy.

Yeah, they are. I called our boss, but he said we should humor Doctor Brown.

"Sorry, what, humor him? If we keep humoring him, we’ll end up as corpses."

She nudged me into the elevator. Don’t say that. She didn’t add why not. She turned slightly pale. She grabbed her phone from her pocket, swore again, and nervously tapped her heel.

She wore a plain white shirt, plain black pants, and plain white heels. Arguably I tried a little harder, right? The outfit worked on her. Nothing worked on me. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror taking up half the back wall, and realized I looked like a mess. It wasn’t even 9:30.

The door opened on the 4th floor – where we worked.

Mary shot out, making a quick announcement to the room. Then she ducked into her office, pulled the blinds, and likely swore some more. I trudged through the open-plan area to my desk. I had to thank my lucky stars it sat near a window. Sure, dark-brown louvers meant I couldn’t see through it well and that no sunlight made it in, but it didn’t matter. I could still catch a scrap of the sky if I twisted my head at just the right angle.

I sat down at my desk. The old white plastic top and black metal legs groaned. I thumbed a few scratches, grabbed a stack of paper, and pretended to look busy for all of two seconds.

Mary popped her head out her door as fast as a meerkat spying an eagle. He’s here. Reception just called. Crap. I need someone—

Everyone scattered like soldiers on the battlefield as someone yelled grenade.

I was sitting, but it didn’t matter. You could see my flame-red hair from Antarctica. It looked like someone holding up a torch and volunteering for death.

I made the mistake of putting my hands up too, intending to wave them in surrender. Mary just saw me and pointed. Do it, Lillian. You’re the only one of us who’s comfortable with the Other Side, anyway. I’ll owe you big. I’ll come through.

Dread filled me like someone grabbed my mouth, opened it up, and pumped concrete into me. I became so heavy, you couldn’t move me with a tank. I still scrambled to my feet, bit my lip, and swore.

Yeah, I was comfortable with the Other Side. I didn’t see why people had to keep volunteering me for crap just because vampires didn’t freak me out.

Doctor Brown wasn’t a vampire, anyway. Half wizard, according to his file, he had latent magical skills.

And full-blown psychopathy if you asked me, but I could hardly diagnose.

I bit my lip again, realized I didn’t need my heavy coat, took it off, and placed it over my chair. It might be as chilly as the frozen tundra in this cold building, but the stress would get my blood pumping soon enough.

By the time I walked over to the elevator, it pinged.

There he stood. Doctor Brown. He leaned against the mirror at the back, one hand shoved into his pocket. He wore beige chinos, a light shirt, expensive dark shoes, and eyes to match. Seriously, his irises were exactly the same color as his calf-skin loafers. Either he’d coordinated them, or he’d spelled them.

He snarled. I need your manager—

Today you’ll be speaking to me. Please— I turned and looked at the office. It would be more comfortable to do it here… but it wouldn’t work. I needed to pull him away from other people. Doctor Brown liked to put on a show. The more folks he could play for, the irater and angrier he’d become. I knew from unfortunate experience that to get him alone, though uncomfortable, would usually lead to a better outcome.

This way. I led him down the corridor. I’d picked up my laptop and hugged it against my chest like a shield. It would do nothing if we got into a real fight.

An unhelpful thought, brain, I chided it quickly.

Sweat beaded over my top lip and slid down between my shoulder blades.

We walked down the threadbare carpet, stopping at an orange door. I opened it and reached another corridor. This office tower had narrow, tight corridors like long coffins. The developers had clearly wanted to maximize office space. If you were claustrophobic, you’d jump out a window.

I walked until we reached the right office, opened the door, and led him inside.

All the other offices stored our files. The basement flooded a few weeks back, so we’d trudged the files up here and shoved them into whatever room we could find.

I felt his anger as I opened the right office door and led Doctor Brown in. It rose off him in waves of fury.

I tried to relate to the guy. We’d canceled his registration. Not just his human registration – his magical registration too. Theoretically, he couldn’t work for either side. He was now out of employment. He should complain… right?

No, the other half of my brain retorted as quickly as a whip. The guy had multiple complaints for botching surgeries. He did what he wanted.

Either he was in it for the money or something else.

I sat in one of the creaky black seats with a tiny foam cushion and stains on the arms. One small Kentia palm stood to the side of us, offering the only semblance of life. Had I mentioned this was an internal office? With no light and only the bare illumination of the naked globe above, it felt like an interrogation room.

Guess who’d handle the interrogation? Not me.

Doctor Brown didn’t bother to sit. He loomed over me like a cloud, yanked his phone from his pocket, and started flicking through texts. These are my patients. Not a single one of them ever complained.

Are you trying to tell me that you got in touch with every single one of your patients? You don’t have the right—

I have the right to work. I’m a doctor. What I do is important, he spat that. No, he ripped it. This didn’t sound like my boss from earlier. This sounded like a man who knew how to kill something on sight. Not just your argument – but you, too.

Suddenly uncomfortable despite my high threshold for dealing with the Other Side, I sat back in my seat. I stared at the door. I’d left it open at least. I hoped that if I screamed, my boss would hear. She wouldn’t send security, though. Not until they finished their other job.

I took a breath. I knew I could get through this. I’d survived worse. Look, Doctor Brown—

Doctor? he spat defensively, lips white whips of anger. You’ve taken away my registration. His voice climbed then climbed higher. It sounded like someone glimpsing the peak, and they wanted to make a mad dash for it.

Speaking of mad, the look in his eyes became so wild, I started to sweat visibly. Beads appeared on my brow, shuddered there, then rolled down my temples. I opened a hand. Look—

"No, you look." He shoved his phone into my face and scrolled through texts.

They