Cursed: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Thrice Cursed Mage Book 1) (3 page)

The guy snarled by way of reply and lunged at me, crossing the ten feet between us in the blink of an eye. I stepped calmly under his lunge and caught him across the throat with my right forearm. The force of the blow reverberated down my arm as I stepped around and kicked his legs out from under him while using my bodyweight to drive him into the ground.

He collapsed flat on his back, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come as I calmly got to my feet and stepped past him. I probably should have felt bad about nearly crushing his windpipe, but I didn’t. They’d beat up a woman, and while I wasn’t sure if my mama had raised me right, I still felt pretty pleased with myself for saving the girl. If a couple of dirt bags got their asses kicked in the process, I wasn’t about to shed tears over it.

I paused and took a deep breath on the way to the girl. Had I really just rationalized what I’d done in a rage-filled haze under the cover of chivalry? Hell, for all I knew this girl was a mass murderer, and I’d just saved her to kill again. Even if she was innocent, what right did I have to play judge, jury, and executioner? I pushed the thought out of my mind. If saving her turned out to be a problem, it was one I was okay with having.

I spun on my heel and dropped down next to the two downed thugs and searched through their pockets, hoping to find something nefarious on their persons that would let me ignore the guilt suddenly prickling at the back of my neck. I found exactly what I was looking for. Along with about fifty bucks in cash, brute number one had a loaded 9mm Beretta pistol with one of those nifty fifteen-round magazines that was illegal in California now.

Either these guys were holding illegal weapons or had been grandfathered in. I was pretty sure it was the former and not the latter. Either way, the weapon was mine now. Asshole tax and all. I stuffed the gun into the waistband of my khakis before making my way over to the dryer I’d pilfered earlier. I tossed the cash inside. Hopefully, whoever I’d robbed would feel a little better about it now.

The woman was sitting up, watching me with a look on her face I couldn’t quite identify. It was part relief, part excitement, and part something dark and afraid. That look told me she hadn’t ruled out the possibility of me coming after her next.

“Are you okay?” I asked, moving across the laundromat and offering her my left hand. I wasn’t sure if she was one of those “I don’t need a man’s help” girls. For all I knew, she’d be pissed at me for saving her when she’d totally had those thugs right where she wanted them. Still, I wasn’t going to stand there and wait for her to get up without offering. I wasn’t a jackass.

“Yeah, thanks,” she said, and her husky voice rolled over me like velvet and rich cream, sending little shivers down my spine. The reaction startled me so much, I nearly dropped her when she grabbed my hand.

“Don’t mention it,” I replied, straining to keep the excitement from my words as I pulled her to her feet.

She nodded once and shook the hand she gripped, mischief in her eyes. The heat of her touch melted across me like warm butter, making my knees go weak and my breath catch in my throat. What had she done to me? How was she doing it? And could she do more?

I tried to speak, tried to say anything at all as she released my hand and finger brushed her dark hair out of her face. Even with the busted lip, she was beautiful. Not in the ridiculous Hollywood way either. No, she was the perfect girl next door. Only, the way she looked at me, gave me the feeling that not only would my mom like her, but I’d like what she did when the two of us were all alone together.

She was curvy, sure, and her tanned skin would be the envy of anyone, but her face was just a touch flawed. Her nose was a little too big, and her teeth were a little too crooked. Rather than mar her though, those deficiencies served to ground her beauty and make her seem real.

“We need to get out of here before those two bozos recover.” Her full ruby red lips quirked into a smile. “Thanks for saving me.” She gave me the once over and bit her lip, letting it drag free of her white teeth. “I’m not sure how to thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” I said, shaking my head and shoving my right hand in my pocket. I’m not sure why I did it, but I didn’t want to have to go explaining why one of my arms was black as pitch.

“I normally don’t come to this laundromat,” she said by way of an explanation I hadn’t asked for. “I normally use the one in the basement of my apartment, but it’s been on the fritz and you know how it is.” She moved over and began gathering up the spilled basket of laundry a few feet away. “They say only death and taxes are absolute, but I don’t think the people who say that have to deal with laundry and dirty dishes.”

Before I could stop myself, I knelt down next to her and began helping her put the clothing into the basket. As I dumped a pair of socks with red racing stripes down one side into the blue plastic basket, she wrinkled her nose at me.

“Mister, not to be rude or anything, but I just washed these, and you smell like the inside of a dumpster.” She smirked at me, her blue eyes full of humor. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t touch any of them. I really don’t want to have to wash them all over again with people like that around.” She nodded over my shoulder toward the downed thugs.

“Fair enough,” I replied, moving back from her as heat filled my cheeks. Was I blushing? No, that was impossible. I didn’t know much about myself, but I was reasonably sure Mac Brennan didn’t blush. “I did wake up in a dumpster this morning.” I shrugged and my cheeks turned their temperature up a notch or two. The jerks.

She stood, holding the basket of clothing to her chest and stared at me very hard. “Why did you wake up in a dumpster?” The words came out of her mouth slowly, like she had weighed the question and wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know the answer.

“I’m not sure.” I looked at my shoes because they were suddenly very interesting. I’d missed a spot of blood on my right toe or gathered a new one. I kicked at it with my left shoe, trying half-heartedly to smudge it off before I stopped suddenly, not wanting to draw her eyes to it. “I have no memory. The only thing I know is my name.”

“I can’t imagine what that’s like,” she replied, and I couldn’t quite understand the tone of her voice. It almost seemed like she was questioning what I’d said. To be fair, I wasn’t exactly a reliable source and my story was ridiculous. I mean, how many people wake up in dumpsters with no memory and crazy kung fu skills?

“It sucks because I’m sure I was supposed to be doing something. I have this feeling something important is slipping through my fingers with each passing second.” I let out a slow breath.

“Have you tried going to the police?” she asked, taking a step backward away from me. At first I thought she might be afraid of me, but as I stared into her eyes, I questioned that assessment. It seemed less like she was afraid of me and more like she just wanted to go. It made sense. She likely had things to do.

“Not as of yet.” I glanced back at the thugs. Neither of them were moving. Good. The last thing I wanted was for them to get up and force me to knock them out again. “As silly as it is, I’ve been trying to clean myself up since I woke up in a dumpster.” I tugged on the waistband of my pilfered khakis trying to pull them up a little bit. It was no use, they were still dragging on the ground. They’d do for now, but eventually I was going to wear holes in them. I had half a mind to roll them up, but then I’d look like the big box store version of Huck Finn wearing loafers. No, that wasn’t happening.

“I know I’m going to regret this,” she whispered like she was talking to herself before meeting my eyes with her own, and for a second I got the feeling she was trying to read my thoughts. “But would you like to come back to my place and shower? Then I can drop you off at the police station.”

“I don’t think I can accept that,” I said as she turned and sashayed toward the exit. I felt almost guilty for bothering her. Okay, I lied, I felt really guilty. Maybe I didn’t need to go with her, maybe I shouldn’t get her involved at all? I did have a strange devil arm, after all, and she seemed too nice to involve in that weirdness. Besides, I likely just had to do a Google search on my name, and I’d find my social network profile. If not, there was always the phone book. How many Mac Brennans could there possibly be? While that might only give me a phone number and address, it likely wouldn’t take long to track them all down. Surely one would be me.

“Then don’t come,” she replied, a smirk in her voice. “Continue standing there smelling like last week’s garbage.”

“Wait,” I said, calling out to her as she shoved open the door and disappeared through it without so much as a backward glance. Without thinking, I sprinted across the room and pushed through the door. She was only a few feet away. She shot furtive glances in both directions, reminding me of a mouse searching for cats. Satisfied no one was coming, she crossed the parking lot so quickly her white running shoes were practically a blur on the asphalt.

“Lady, stop, please. I accept your offer,” I yelled, and this time her shoulders stiffened. She’d clearly heard me, but other than that small reaction, she didn’t acknowledge me as she approached a beat up red Dodge Neon. She unlocked it and put the basket on the roof of the car before turning to me.

“Okay,” she said and that scared look flashed through her eyes for a second. It made me feel like a jerk for accepting her offer, and if I’d had any other plan, I’d have turned around and walked away. The only problem was, I had nowhere to go, and her offering me a shower and a ride to the police station sounded infinitely better than wandering around a town I didn’t remember.

“Thank you,” I said, allowing my gratitude to flood into my voice. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” She nodded before opening the back door of the tiny car and tossing the basket on the backseat. “Now let’s go. I want to be back home by 2PM. That gives us four hours.”

“I don’t think it will take that long. I’ll take a quick shower,” I replied, walking up to the passenger door as she slid into the driver’s seat.

“You never know,” she said, reaching across the car and unlocking the door for me. “You might be one of those girly men who needs conditioner and body butter.”

Chapter 4

Aside from being small, her apartment was rather nice despite everything inside looking like it’d come from thrift stores and clearance bins. All of it had personality to it, suggesting she’d put thought into everything from the green table with yellow legs to the gray couch with pink zebra-striped throw pillows.

A movie poster of Alan Rickman dressed as Severus Snape hung front and center above the couch. Hanging next to it were pictures of the actor in his various roles, and my eyes immediately locked on the one of Hans Gruber falling from the top of the Nakatomi building. “Yippee ki yay!” was written on it in golden ink followed by a signature I couldn’t make out, but since a similar John Hancock was on the Galaxy Quest photo beneath it, I was inclined to think it might be the man’s autograph.

“Well, someone has an obsession,” I said, tearing my gaze from the photos to find her a few feet away, old takeout bags in her hands as she tried and mostly failed, to clear off the cluttered space. A flush filled her cheeks as she stood there red-handed.

“Call me old fashioned, but it just isn’t Christmas until I see Hans Gruber fall off Nakatomi Plaza.” She shrugged and deposited her refuse into a trashcan stylized like R2D2. “And if you disagree, you can leave.”

“You know, when I was little I watched Die Hard a bunch of times.” I shrugged, not sure how I remembered it, but the memory had sprung into my mind when she’d mentioned Nakatomi Plaza. “Every night for an entire summer, I laid in my bed and watched John McClane take out terrorists. I was never much for surfing, so that was my own personal Endless Summer.”

“Well, good then,” she said, letting out a little sigh of relief before shaking herself back to reality. “The shower’s over there.” She pointed behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder and saw a closed door that looked even cheaper than the threadbare carpet.

“Alright,” I said, turning back toward her. She had another armful of trash. Evidently, she didn’t clean very often, but judging by the look of the place, it seemed like most of it may have been from the night before.

“I’ll try to find you something to wear. My ex left some of his stuff here, and he was about your size.” Even though I didn’t know her well, a wistful sadness seemed to fill her as she said the words.

Before I could respond, the door directly behind her burst open and a boy about eight years old with dark bedraggled hair stepped out into the living room.

“Mom, you’re home!” he squeaked, rushing toward her before stopping suddenly as he caught sight of me. “Who is that?” He pointed at me, accusation and confusion filling his tiny face.

A look of panic burst across the brunette’s face before melting into an expression of horror. She spun on her heels, still clutching the takeout bags and stared at the boy in disbelief. “John, why are you home?” She looked him up and down, taking in his Spider-man T-shirt and blue jeans like they were out of place. “And why aren’t you in your uniform?”

“A water pipe broke at school so they had to send us home because there was no more running water.” The boy shrugged. “So when I got off the bus, I came up and changed. They said they called you.”

Embarrassment filled her cheeks as she dropped the bags onto the counter and snatched her battered black purse off the table. She opened it in a flurry and pulled out a small pink phone and stared at it.

“Christ,” she muttered, punching in some buttons on the phone and holding it to her ear. While I couldn’t make out the words, an automated voice droned from the device. A moment later, she pulled the phone away and stared at the boy.

“Can you go to Emily’s for a little while? Mommy has some errands to run.” She stared at him apologetically, and I felt like the worse kind of slime simply for existing. “We can go get iced cream when I get back, okay?”