Marked: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Thrice Cursed Mage Book 2) (16 page)

“Ricky, I don’t think you have to worry about that—”

“How would you know, Mac?” She shouted, opening the door and leaping from the car. She was already walking away. “You don’t even have a memory. Jesus Christ, how could I have been so stupid?”

I scrambled out of the car after her, suddenly frantic with the need to comfort her, to assure her it wasn’t true. Except… except what if it was? I stopped before I reached her, trying to puzzle out how I felt about that? What if it was all fake, except, except I didn’t think it was. I wasn’t sure when Ricky had imprinted on me, for all I knew it could have been in the moment where she let me go, but I didn’t think it was. No, I was sure it had happened after Sera had left us alone in the hotel room.

“Ricky, stop!” I called as she made her way through the parking lot in front of the big box store. “I don’t want you to go.”

She stopped and turned to look at me. “Mac, I
can’t
have imprinted on you. It takes away free will. It’s… it’s not a good thing.”

“Danton didn’t seem to think so,” I walked slowly toward her, hoping she wouldn’t bolt. “And hear me when I say this. You wouldn’t need mind control to make me like you.” As I got close to her, I realized she was trembling. Tears streaked down her cheeks. “I’d like you anyway.”

“You don’t know that, Mac,” she said, and her voice was quiet. She wouldn’t even look at me. No, she just kept staring at my bare, muck-covered feet.

“You’re going to have to trust me,” I said, pulling her close to me, and surprisingly, she let me do it. Holding her against me felt like finding a missing puzzle piece. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, burying her face into my chest. “But after this is done, I’m going to talk with Duane. He can mix up a potion to see if your feelings are real.” She looked up at me, and even though I wanted to tell her it wasn’t necessary, I knew it would make her feel better if I agreed.

“Fair enough,” I said, and even though I wasn’t sure why the universe would thrust something so potentially destructive onto the two of us, I kissed her like it might be the last time I ever got to do it.

Chapter 18

When we pulled up outside Pierce’s hideout, I was suddenly glad it was nighttime. Otherwise the prospect of sneaking into an amusement park remarkably similar to Sea World with guns would be dicey. Fortunately, it was dark, so beyond a few security lights, and the obvious rent-a-cop at the entrance to the parking lot, there wasn’t much standing between us and the chain-link fence around said parking lot.

I’d reloaded both my Glocks with more silver ammunition and was super thankful I hadn’t thrown them at Jinn because Ricky hadn’t gotten new pistols. No, she’d just snagged a couple boxes of .45 caliber silver bullets which were now nestled safely in my trench coat pocket. In addition to that, I had a pair of silver-bladed hunting knives strapped to my thighs, and another smaller blade slid into the work boots I was now wearing. I even had a grenade. It was pretty awesome, and would be more awesome when I used it to explode some bad guys, which I guess said something about my state of mind. Man, I really needed some therapy.

Ricky had kindly gotten me a change of clothing in addition to the weapons, food, and car. I was now clad in blue jeans, Timberland work boots, which while not Red Wings, were still pretty comfortable, and a Rage Against the Machine T-shirt.

“What’s with the shirt?” I asked, hoping the whole alternative metal band and trench coat thing wasn’t a recipe for getting my shot by the first upstanding
and
gun-toting citizen who saw me.

“It’s so you can go all bulls on parade with your pocket full of shells.” She patted the pocket on my trench coat where my bullets were stored.

“You’re just jealous of my guns,” I said, barely resisting the urge to flex in her general direction.

Unlike me, who was loaded for werebear, Ricky didn’t have so much as a butter knife on her person. Then again, she was a werewolf who had successfully eaten something like sixteen pounds of food in the last twenty minutes and still seemed ravenous. If she’d really eaten a werebear like she’d claimed, I certainly wouldn’t want to be standing in front of her in a threatening way.

We stood just on the other side of the fence leading to the parking lot. I had half a mind to scale it, but there was razor wire at the top, and that would probably be hell for my complexion. Besides, while I was ready to go all guns blazing, I was happy taking a moment to not have people shoot at me or try to eat my liver, call me old fashioned. Once we entered the park, it was anything goes.

“So what’s the plan?” I asked, glancing at Ricky. She’d switched out her bloody rags for jeans and an overly large black T-shirt that said, “Ask me about my Ninja Costume” in navy blue block letters. “You get in your ninja costume and take them out Snake Eyes style?”

With one quick movement, Ricky had the hem of her over-sized T-shirt pulled up over her face, revealing the caricature of a growling ninja. “Yes,” she said before breaking into giggles and dropping the shirt.

I snickered and shook my head. “Stop being cool and answer the question. I’m not sure how to go about invading Sea World.”

She touched her chest with one stubby finger. “Why, Mac Brennan, you think I’m cool? Really?” She batted her eyes at me, and something about it made me want to kiss her. I didn’t, but I wanted to really badly. Instead, I shoved the feeling down beneath a layer of professional badassery. Kissing her right now would be stupid. I needed to focus. After this was over and Pierce was spending the rest of his days in Hell, I could entertain those kinds of thoughts. Right now, they were a distraction that could get both of us killed.

“Well, not in the ‘cool kids downtown no one has actually ever met’ sort of way. More in the guy who buys you beer in high school sort of way.” I shot a wry grin in her direction.

“Thanks. You just compared me to the twenty-one-year-old stoner who tries to get with high school chicks.” She let out a slow breath, grabbed hold of the chain link, and tore it apart like it was made of tissue paper and not metal. She held the rent fence open for me and gestured for me to go inside. “After you, Princess.”

“I don’t think you’re like a twenty-one-year-old stoner,” I said, ducking into the parking lot and waiting for her in the totally walking off kind of way. “He’s way cooler than you. He always gave me weed for inviting him to parties. Not that I’d ever admit to inhaling.”

She slugged me in the shoulder. It hurt. A lot. I didn’t show it. Much.

“Like you’d remember. You have no memory,” she said, walking up beside me and scanning the horizon while her nostrils flared. It made me wonder how good her sense of smell really was. Actually, I didn’t want to know since I’d recently been in a sewer and covered in rabbit slime. I probably needed like six showers just to get back to how I’d smelled when I’d crawled out of the dumpster the other day.

“It’s actually better this way because I can just make up stuff, and as far as I know, it’s true.” I pulled one of my Glocks free, not because I saw anyone but because holding the gun made me feel better. When in doubt, grab a gun. I could be a spokesperson for the NRA.

“Is that so?” she asked, glancing at me sidelong.

“Yup. For instance, this one time when I made out with the Prom Queen under the bleachers.” Even with the weapon in hand, every step we took toward the entrance made unease creep over my skin. There was no way this was going to end well.

“That probably did happen,” she said with a shrug. “You know, after she got overweight and wound up working at Home Depot.”

“That is a stereotype I will not condone,” I replied, glaring at her. “I’m quite fond of the Home Depot girl. She’s very nice, very helpful, and knows a ton about baseboards.”

“Do you even know any true things?” Ricky asked and I could have sworn there was a hint of jealousy in her voice.

“I know you’re the cutest girl I’ve ever met.” I flashed a cheesy grin at her as we reached the sidewalk leading to the entrance. She stared at me for a long time before looking away.

“I’m going to allow that one,” she said before grabbing me around the waist like I was a damsel in distress and leaping over the wall. We landed on the other side of the wall, and she put me down like jumping over a twenty-foot-tall wall in a single bound was no big deal. “Now, let’s get serious. I can smell at least three guards up here slinking around. They’re not werewolves, but I don’t want to chance heading down wind. If we do, and there is one up here with them, the whole place will know we’re here. I’d like to avoid that since I don’t know how many guards are in his hidden base below the whale tank.”

“Whale tank. Guards. Got it,” I said, reaching out and grabbing her hand with my own before she could walk away. “Hey, Ricky, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?” she asked, turning to look at me with one eyebrow raised.

“If I don’t make it, I need you to call and tell them Pierce is dead, okay?” I said, letting go of her and pulling a frayed post it note from my pocket. I held it out toward her. “I wrote the number down for you.”

“Mac, you’re going to be fine,” she said, glancing at the note like it was a live snake coated in dung.

“I know, but I also believe in contingency plans. Pierce is going down, but I’m a lot less,” I waved my hand in her general direction, “than you are. You’re
more likely
to survive, in which case I need you to call and get them to let my sister and her son go. As long as Pierce is dead, they should honor the deal.”

Ricky stared at me for a long time before snatching the note and shoving it into the pocket of her jeans. “I’m taking this because I think it will make you feel better, but when this is all over you can call yourself.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Ricky.”

“Don’t thank me,” she said, turning away and moving forward in a half-crouch. “Just don’t die.”

I pulled my second Glock free and smiled. “Don’t worry. I have no plans to meet Death astride his pale horse anytime soon.”

“You know that’s just alliteration right?” she scoffed, glancing around the corner of a game booth. She held out one hand so I’d stop. I did.

“Yeah, what with the vampires, werewolves, and demon hunters, it’d be silly if that was real too,” I agreed, a smirk crossing my lips.

Chapter 19

A hand burst out from the booth, grabbed Ricky by her hair, and yanked her into the depths of the game. The sound of a steak getting slapped against a meat counter filled my ears as I rushed forward. Before I reached her, two dudes in Army-style buzz cuts stepped out from their hiding places behind the booths a few meters away and pointed their M16s at me.

Thankfully, I was already firing my Glocks, which I’ll admit, had me feeling a little outgunned. I threw myself to the side as they unloaded their weapons at me. Bullets tore up the asphalt where I’d been as I put one silver bullet in the forehead of the left one. His faceplate shattered and his head jerked violently backward in a spray of brain and bone. As he slumped to the ground, his finger must have seized upon the trigger because his gun went wild, spraying bullets every which way.

His partner ducked back behind the booth nearest him as the jerking of the gun spun the dead man’s body around, creating a vortex of cover fire. I took the opportunity to sprint forward, and as the M16’s STANAG magazine emptied, I lined up my shot and put three bullets into the booth at chest, abdomen, and knee height, hoping I’d catch him even if he was ducking behind the cheap particle board.

A muffled thump filled my ears as I crept sideways, guns at the ready. What I saw when I stepped past the edge made my heart sing with joy, which only proves I am really messed up in the head. The guy had been crouching there, but now there was no way he’d ever have an open casket funeral unless he knew a guy who could fix a missing face. It was a little strange because I felt absolutely nothing for the guy, nor for his partner. Actually, that wasn’t true. I felt really happy they were dead, and I wasn’t. It was weird because I knew I should have felt bad, I just didn’t.

“Thanks,” I told the dead man as I shoved one of my Glocks into the waistband of my jeans and snagged his assault rifle. I had half a mind to shoot it off into the air and yell something like “Ho Ho Ho, now I have a machinegun!” but I didn’t because I was pretty sure more guards were on their way, and for all I knew, Ricky was bleeding out in the booth behind me while her assailant snuck up on me with a bazooka.

I sprinted back toward the booth, careful to make sure no one shot me in the back, but as I leapt over the counter designed to keep kids from getting too close to the fishes in the bowls while they threw balls, Ricky popped her head up. She had blood dripping from her mouth and had been crouching over a body of a guy who was missing his throat. I was thinking it was probably connected.

Ricky wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand and stood. “What took you so long?” she asked, and as she said the words, her fangs visibly shrank back to normal-sized incisors. “I’ve been back here for thirty whole seconds.”

As I opened my mouth to reply, a spray of bullets smacked into the wood next to my head. I dropped, hitting the asphalt floor hard enough for pain to shoot up my forearms. Ricky was less lucky since she took three rounds to the back. They burst through her chest, leaving massive exit wounds that only seemed to anger her.

She turned, a snarl of rage exploding from her lips, and leapt in a way that made me wonder why she wasn’t in the goddamned Olympics. I didn’t see what happened, but the sounds I heard reminded me of those videos of lion attacks.

By the time I got to my feet, Ricky was standing over the body of a man who appeared to have been beaten to death with his own arms. Her ninja T-shirt was sporting three gaping, gore-drenched holes, but the flesh beneath was pristine. With one quick movement, she tore off the guy’s blood-stained flak jacket and threw it on, probably so she wouldn’t flash me every time she moved. The prude.

“Well, this is going well,” she said, kneeling down and swiping the guy’s radio off his belt as it chirped something about an Alpha team. Ricky keyed the mic. “Alpha team can’t hear you because I ate them.” She burped into the radio. “But I’m up for dessert. You game to be my huckleberry?”