Cursed: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Thrice Cursed Mage Book 1) (20 page)

The cement outside broke my fall, pushing the breath violently from my lungs as dark spots swam across my vision. I lay there, trying to make my body tear away the curtain blanketing me in darkness, but I couldn’t even remember how to inhale. Something grabbed me, wrapping around my torso like a boa constrictor. It hauled me to my feet before lifting me into the air, causing the curtain to fall away in a shimmering, sparkling rain of glass and debris.

I hung there, suspended a few inches above a balcony a floor below the shattered window. The ground looked to be at least ten stories away. It was more than enough distance to have killed me if I hadn’t landed on this balcony. As that thought hammered into me, Van stuck his head out of the window above and waved.

“This is where you think I’m going to drop you, huh?” he asked as the tentacles wrapped around me began to slowly retract, pulling me toward him. “Well, that’s not going to happen, at least not yet. I haven’t lived for so long by being silly. Maybe you’d die from such a fall, maybe not, but I’m not willing to take that chance.”

I jerked to a stop about two feet away from him, and he met my eyes. Fear and anger clouded his vision, making him seem insane. It reminded me of a drug lord storming around his safe room threatening his bodyguards while the hero picked off the men outside one by one. It was a little weird because I should have felt terrified. There I was, completely at this madman’s mercy, but I just didn’t feel scared. I felt, strangely enough, calm. Something told me I had been in this situation before. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but it meant one thing. I’d survived before. I could survive again.

“This is where you find out I am not above just shooting my enemies in the head.” Van’s black arm whipped out in front of him, pointing a chrome Desert Eagle at my skull. The tattoos along his flesh glimmered in the light of the moon above. “It’s easy, and it’s sensible.” His finger began to depress the two stage trigger through the travel distance. It would only be another moment before he encountered the resistance of the final stage, and I had no doubt he’d continue blindly through to obliterate my skull with a fifty caliber round.

“You know what I’ve always hated about Green lantern?” I asked as I struggled to get free, and that’s when I realized my arms weren’t bound, just my torso.

His finger stopped on the second stage of the trigger, and he paused, thinking over something. It was less than a nanosecond, but it felt like forever, and forever was exactly what I needed.

“What?” he asked, and the tentacles tightened around me. My ribs gave way in a shriek of bone that tore a scream from my lips. He pulled me closer so the barrel of the gun rested against my forehead. It was an amateur mistake. It would be way easier to dodge from here.

“It’s the whole magic ring thing. Every time I read the damned comics, and he fights someone, he does well, until inevitably, he loses his ring. Why I remember this one time…” My right hand came up gripping the ritual dagger I’d stolen from the cultist what felt like years ago. The blade caught him in the armpit, slicing his demonic arm off his body like his flesh and bone were composed of little more than warm butter.

The emerald tentacles gripping me vanished, and I plummeted backward in a rain of scarlet. Van shrieked in pain, his left hand gripping at the missing stump of his arm as blood gushed through his fingers.

For the second time in as many minutes, the concrete balcony broke my fall. Van’s arm hit the cement beside me with a wet slap as I lay there struggling to breathe. My body was covered in blood as it cascaded down from above. I shut my eyes and called upon my cat demon, hoping to beg her for one last ounce of strength to finish this.

Only this time, I saw her watching me from my mind’s eye. Her whiskers twitched as she walked around me in a slow circle, her green and yellow cat eyes filled with amusement.

“That was clever,” she said in a sing song voice that rippled along my mind like icy spider’s webs.

“I thought so. I wasn’t sure if it’d work, to be honest.” I fought the urge to shrug. “Could you help me out?”

“Oh, I’ve already done that. Open your eyes.”

Chapter 25

I was still on the balcony with the cultist’s knife in my hand. Van was still above me screaming. I’d been out less than a second. There was just one trifling difference. I didn’t feel pain anymore. Oh, and my body was wrapped in a fading cocoon of crimson light. Sitting up was one of the easiest things I’d ever done. Whatever the cat in my head had done to help me was better than a shot of morphine followed by a Vicodin chaser. It was a little weird.

My eyes surveyed the moonlit surroundings as I sheathed the knife before pulling Van’s Deagle from the still warm fingers of his severed arm. As I hefted the weapon, I found the weight surprisingly familiar. A thin smile flashed across my lips as I checked it over. It was sticky with blood, but seemed otherwise undamaged by the fall. Thank God it was made out of metal. If it’d been made of cheap polymer and plastic, the drop might have cracked something important. It was still possible, but I was willing to give myself pretty good odds on it still working. Either way, I’d know in a minute.

I dropped into a weaver shooting stance, placing my right foot back and turning slightly because I wasn’t exactly worried about Van putting a bullet through my left armpit and into my heart since he was disarmed. I craned my weapon upward, sighting the chrome pistol on his chest and let loose three quick shots. They echoed across the landscape like thunder, and Van’s body jerked backward out of sight in a spray of blood and thicker bits.

The gun fell to my side, and I stood there, chest heaving in the cold night air. I needed to get back up there, but the wall in front of me was covered in slick plaster. Without the proper equipment, I wouldn’t be climbing it very easily. Besides, while I felt pain free, I could feel my ribs jostling in a way that wasn’t exactly pleasant. I was reasonably sure one hadn’t punctured my heart or my lungs, but for all I knew, whatever the cat had me hopped up on was masking those symptoms too. If I risked trying to climb it, I could wind up puncturing something I’d rather like to keep puncture-free. No, I needed a new plan.

I raised my right hand toward the broken window and concentrated, picturing Van’s armada of tentacles. Red light began to seep from my tattoos like blood from an old wound. My fingers extended slowly as I tried to copy what Van had done. Sweat broke across my body, chilling me in an instant. My teeth chattered together and pain stabbed at me from my ruined ribs. Sparks leapt across my flesh, and millions of spots danced across my eyes like a swarm of fireflies.

My skin began to writhe as viscous, red slime pulled itself from my tattoos, reminding me of that scene from Freddy Krueger where the screaming faces of the damned pressed out of his flesh. My legs gave out on me, and I collapsed forward, barely catching myself with my left arm. Pain shot through me and with it, came the roaring agony that had been suppressed by the cat’s power. My vision went dark around the edges as I called up every bit of willpower I had and reached out one last time toward the window above.

Thick red fluid exploded from my palm like a gunshot, bursting through the open window and smacking into the ceiling within with a wet thwip. Elation filled me as the tentacle snapped taut. Then it jerked me violently upward with enough force to nearly wrench my shoulder from its socket. I cried out as I was pulled up into the room like the goddamned Batman.

The moment my feet touched the cobblestone floor inside, the tentacle detached from the ceiling, retracting into my tattoos with a glistening, wet glow. My ribs felt like someone had smashed me with a sledgehammer which, of course, had actually happened, but as I stood there panting, the pain started to recede, not as much as before, but enough to let me function without curling into a ball on the floor.

Van lay on his back in an ever-widening pool of blood. I wasn’t sure if he was dead because the only light in the room was coming from the moon behind me. I took a step toward him, my hand clenching the Desert Eagle so tightly the knuckles on my white hand were white with effort. This was my chance to end this.

“Mac, help me!” John cried from the darkness. My head snapped toward the sound of his voice. I could barely make out the vague outline of the boy struggling with a form on the wall. He was trying to rescue Sera, but from the looks of it, had thus far been unsuccessful.

“Coming,” I called back, and as I changed my trajectory to meet him, I glanced one last time at Van’s unmoving body. A bad feeling settled over me as I stared at him so I did the sensible thing and chased it away by putting three more shots into the man’s chest. The sound boomed inside the room, reducing my hearing to a sharp whining sound. I couldn’t see how well they connected, but if his jerking body was any indication, I hadn’t missed. Hopefully, it would be enough to keep him down.

With that happy thought, I shoved the weapon into the front of my pants and jogged toward John and his mother. Each step jerked at my nerves with rusty fishhooks, but that didn’t bother me. I had won, had defeated Van, had stormed a cult, and had fought off werewolves. I had done all this to save my princess, and now, all I had to do was walk over to her with broken ribs stabbing into my body.

I was Mac Brennan, and I could manage that.

Despite John’s best effort, he’d done little more than pull the tubes from her body, probably because she was bound with chains and manacles. She was still breathing despite the blood loss, but one thing was certain. She needed a doctor, fast. We both did. That’s when the sound of sirens filled my ears. My head turned toward the open window, and I saw the strobe of the blue and red gumballs in the distance. They’d be here in minutes. I did not want to be here when that happened.

“Resero,” I said, touching the manacles on her left wrist with my right index finger. A small spark of power that made stars flash across my eyes leapt from my fingertip. The manacle unlocked, and I could have sworn I heard feline laughter in the distance. So that little trick was her doing. Well played, head-cat. Well played.

I made short work of the rest of the bindings, and Sera slumped forward into my arms. John wrapped his own arms around her. We stood like that for several moments while I tried to ignore the sound of the sirens coming closer and closer.

“We need to go,” I said not sure how to make good on my words.

“Maybe I can help with that,” Jack said, his winged form casting an ominous shadow across the floor in front of the broken window. He began striding toward us, and while I couldn’t see the expression on his face as his bat wings folded up behind him like a cape, I got the distinct impression he was smiling at me.

“How are you here?” I wheezed and realized I could taste blood in my mouth. That wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all. It spoke of internal injuries.

“When you did whatever it was you did to Van, the flames died away, and the alarms went berserk.” The vampire jogged toward me, and much to my surprise, John seemed happy to see the Indian. It made me wonder what kind of mother Sera actually was if the boy was relieved to see a vampire. Then again, I was also relieved to see him.

“So what’s the plan?” I asked as the vampire took Sera into his arms, hefting her easily over one shoulder.

“First you drink this,” Jack said before tearing open the flesh on his wrist with his teeth to reveal thick viscous fluid that reminded me of raspberry jam. He held it out to me, but before I could do anything, John reached out and tugged on his arm.

“Mac lost his finger,” John said before pointing at my pocket. “He still has it in there.”

“Well, go on and get it out and hold the pieces together before you drink then.” Jack grinned widely at me, and I got the distinct impression he was enjoying the squeamishness on my face. “Vampire blood has all sorts of healing properties, assuming you don’t die with it in your system. If you do, well, I’ll be seeing you in three days with a stake. Comprende?”

“Yeah, don’t die with vampire blood in my system or you will wax me like a gym floor,” I said, and strangely enough, I was okay with him killing me if I came back as an undead bloodsucker. Something told me that Jack might be the exception rather than the rule when it came to his kind.

“Pretty much. It’s nice to see we’re on the same page,” Jack replied, nodding at me as I fished the plastic baggie out of my pocket and pulling out my shriveled pinkie.

“Well, here goes nothing.” I pushed my severed finger against the wounded stub on my left hand, and even though every part of me revolted at the thought, I put my lips to his wrist and sucked.

“That’s a boy, drink up,” Jack slurred as his eyes rolled back in his head.

My throat convulsed as I swallowed, and for a second, I thought Jack’s blood was going to come rocketing up out of me, but then the strangest thing happened. Heat began to build up in the pit of my stomach. Warmth spread out inside me, filling me up from within and taking all my pain along with it. My bones snapped back into place, knitting themselves together in an instant, and somehow, my finger reattached itself without so much as a nasty scar.

“Holy shit,” I exclaimed as the vampire jerked his wrist away from my greedy lips.

“No, vampire blood. Now let’s get out of here before we have to explain to the cops why we’re here.” He squatted down to gather up John like the boy was a toddler before making his way toward the window. His wings unfurled behind him like he was a giant bat, and before I could protest, he’d leapt from the edge.

Even though I knew he was probably fine, I cried out in surprise, racing over to make sure he landed okay. I needn’t have bothered. Jack the vampire landed lightly on the grass below. I saw a strange fog roll over the top of him, and then he, along with Sera and John were gone.

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but something told me Jack would make sure Sera and John were okay. Whatever their relationship with the vampire was, I got the feeling he was on their side. At least, I sure hoped so. I’d hate to have to visit a twenty-four-hour home improvement store and be forced to explain why I was buying wooden stakes in the dead of night.