Seized: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Thrice Cursed Mage Book 4) (2 page)

“I know,” I whispered, surprised I could speak coherently.

“Good.” Something about the way he looked at me let me know refusing to help him would end very badly for me. I mean, I was going to do the job anyway, because of the kids, but I hadn’t wanted him to know that. Apparently, I’d been coming at this the wrong way. I couldn’t refuse. I was a slave. Well, fuck him then.

“Okay, I’m in. tell me what’s going on,” I said before throwing back twenty K worth of whiskey in a single gulp. I slammed the glass down on the bar and reached for his glass. I picked it up, eyeing the whiskey and trying to decide whether or not too much ice had melted. “Please.”

“Well, since you asked me so nicely, I’ll have you know that one of the children is the daughter of Douglas A. Prescott,” he paused and looked at me like I was supposed to know who that was, but I didn’t because I had lost all my memories. In fact, I couldn’t remember anything that’d happened more than a couple days ago, not even how I’d gotten my very own demonic arm. Unfortunately, Mr. Prescott hadn’t come up during that time period. “You don’t know who that is, do you?”

“No.” I shook my head and sipped his whiskey. The faintest hint of char touched the liquid. Was that because the demon had sipped it? I stared down at the drink, wondering if it was still safe to drink. It was so expensive I’d hate to waste it, but who knew what kind of diseases could be living inside Vassago’s mouth.

“I guess it doesn’t matter.” Vassago waved his hand like it was an unimportant point. “What does matter is Mr. Prescott and his wife will trade their souls to me in exchange for rescuing their daughter. It’s a very human thing if you think about it. Risking your
eternal
soul to save someone in this fleeting blip of an existence, but what can I say, getting souls from chumps pays the mortgage.” He grinned, showing his teeth, and as he did, the parallels to my own life were not lost on me. “I plan to collect both of them. You’re going to help me do it.”

“By saving the kids?” I asked, and he nodded very slightly. “Well, that makes sense.” Danton had told me who Vassago liked to prey upon. Parents with no hope left. Well, I’d make sure these parents hadn’t sacrificed their souls in vain, and with any luck, maybe I’d get them out of it too. “I hadn’t pegged you for the altruistic type.”

“You know what happened to the last guy who came to help humanity?” Vassago asked, getting up and snatching his drink from my hand. “You guys nailed him onto a wooden cross. If that isn’t a lesson in how undeserving humanity is, I don’t know what is.” He tossed the nearly full glass in the sink, and I watched in horror as the whiskey circled the drain. “I resolved on that day to never ever do anything for free.”

“Good to know,” I said as he put his arm around my shoulder and led me to toward the only door in the room. Apparently, there was no more whiskey in my immediate future. It was almost enough to break my heart. Still, the sooner this job was done, the sooner I could go home.

“By the way, Mac.” The demon gestured at the bottle of Dalmore 64 Trinitas. “If you ever touch one of my bottles without asking, you’ll spend the next decade cleaning the floor of a truck stop bathroom with your tongue.”

Chapter 2

Vassago marched me straight through the door. We emerged inside a fifties-style diner to the sound of a jingling door chime. It was one of those places that was all red, glittering vinyl booths, and black-and-white checkered tile. A series of Salvador Dali paintings covered one of the walls while another was filled with a white Formica bar better suited to pancakes than beer and whiskey. The smell of greasy burgers on a grill filled my nostrils as I sucked in a breath. My mouth started to water. How long had it been since I’d eaten?

“Welcome to the Angel’s Fall,” the teenaged hostess said, looking us up and down with a professional smile plastered on her teenage cheeks. “I’m very sorry, but we’re actually going to be closing in a minute for a private party.”

“I have a reservation under Vassago,” the demon prince said, his lips curling into a smile as he put one arm on the podium and leaned over it. “That’s me right there.” He tapped a small white book with his name scribbled next to it in flowing script.

The hostess tucked one lock of long brown Jersey shore hair behind her ear nervously and tried to maintain her smile.

“Um, right this way, sir,” she said, scrunching her nose and looking around the nearly empty diner. Besides us and the hostess, there were only four other people here. They sat in a huge booth in back, and while I couldn’t tell what they were saying, I got the impression most of their banter was nervous chit chat. If I had to guess, that was who we were going to meet and not just because it seemed like the perfect setup to an introduction.

“I didn’t know places like these required reservations,” I said, glancing at the demon.

“You need to make a reservation when you rent the entire place out,” Vassago whispered to me before stepping around the podium and holding his elbow out to the hostess. “Shall we?”

The hostess looked at him dubiously before carefully taking Vassago’s arm. I wasn’t quite sure why she was going along with it since her eyes were a mass of confusion, but then again, if Vassago had rented out the entire diner, maybe she was expecting a big tip? Then again, it could have just been because the manager had told her not to piss off the guy who had rented out the entire place during lunch hour.

I followed along behind them until we were nearly to the table, at which point Vassago disengaged himself from the girl and smacked her on the butt. “That will be all dear.” He waved her away, and without a word, she spun on her heel and walked back toward the front door like nothing had happened. She flipped the “open” sign to “closed” before moving back to her podium and staring at the door like she still expected more customers.

“Okay, that was weird,” said a strangely familiar female voice from the table. While I couldn’t recall ever having met her before, everything from her chocolate skin to her blonde dreadlocks and pixie nose made me think I had. “You promised you weren’t going to be weird.”

“I did no such thing. I never make promises I can’t keep,” Vassago said, flashing his car salesman smile. I glanced from him to her, and as our eyes made contact, recognition flashed across her dark features. Did she know me? Had we met before I’d lost my memories? I’d have to find out.

“You really found him,” she said, leaping to her feet so quickly her chair screeched on the tile. The next thing I knew, she had her lithe arms wrapped around me in a tight embrace. “I never thought I’d see you again after Afghanistan, and from the look of surprise on your face, I’m guessing the feeling is mutual.” Something dark and ominous swam through her eyes as she pulled back a half-step and looked me over.

A bad feeling seeped into my bones. She did know me, or at least, she had known me, and the me she had known had definitely done something to her. I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but knowing what I did about my former self, I was betting it had been bad. Very, very bad.

“I see you’ve met Jenna before,” Vassago said, his lips curling into a cruel smile. “Care to tell us how you two met?” He raised an eyebrow as if to say “I know so much more about you than you could ever dream.”

“We met in Afghanistan,” Jenna said, her eyes filling with warmth until her darkness was completely hidden under a mask of cheerfulness. “I doubt he’d have forgotten our last night together either.” A smile crossed her lips. “But then again, Mac’s never been the type to kiss and tell, have you?”

She wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me close to her body. It worked because she was about as tall as I was. It was so familiar it threw me off, and not just because I didn’t remember her. No, it was because for all I knew, Afghanistan had been last week. I mean I could only remember the last few days. The thought was scary because if that was true, she and I were going to have to have a very uncomfortable talk about my new girlfriend. That seemed like a fucking blast.

“You know how it is,” I said, letting a cheesy smile melt across my face. I didn’t remember anything about Afghanistan, but I was suddenly curious to find out. Something about her tone suggested we’d been very close, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but think I was getting played. There was definitely something off about the way she was acting. It was like forced closeness, making me think she wasn’t sure how to act around me anymore. If that was the case, something had definitely happened during our relationship. I just wished I knew what it was.

Either way, it was probably best to play it cool. Who knew what she’d let slip if she thought we were reminiscing together. Maybe it’d be something that would help me put pieces of my fractured past back together. Then again, it seemed like I’d been a pretty horrible person in my past. Maybe I didn’t want to know. Maybe, just maybe, ignorance would be bliss.

“So is it just me and her?” I stepped away from Jenna, creating some much needed space between us and turned toward Vitaly.

It wasn’t that I was uncomfortable being so close to her, which was strange in and of itself, it was more that I had a girlfriend, or whatever it was you called being imprinted on by an alpha werewolf. Even if our feelings for each other had more to do with magic than anything else, I was reasonably sure if she found me in such close proximity to Jenna, she would probably rip my head off after beating the crap out of me.

“No, there are two more. Well, two and a half,” Vassago said, glancing at his watch. “They’ll be here shortly. I, unfortunately, won’t be joining you. I have another appointment. Appearances and all that. Play nice, kids.”

Before I, or Jenna, could protest, Vassago vanished in a plume of emerald smoke that left the smell of rotten eggs hanging in the air like low-hanging fruit.

“Okay,” I said as Jenna slid into the booth and patted the seat next to her. “Do you have any idea what we’re supposed to be doing?”

“Rescuing a kid,” Jenna said, grabbing a plastic menu off the table and looking it over. “I’m not the team lead. It’s some Russian guy. He’ll explain it to you when he gets here.” She shrugged. “For now, let’s eat. I’m starved.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, sitting down next to her in the booth. I wasn’t sure what to make of this. Sure, I was new to the team, but Jenna obviously wasn’t. Still, something told me she knew a lot more than she was letting on. Then again, if the team lead was supposed to explain things, I supposed I could wait. After all, it seemed like she’d be going after the kids too, although she hadn’t used the plural. Odd.

“So, Mac,” Jenna said, setting down the menu. “Where the fuck have you been for the last week or so?”

I stopped, my hand still reaching out toward the menu with my left hand. “Oh, you know. Doing things.”

Jenna stared at me for a moment, and as she opened her mouth to say something, the brunette hostess came over with a small pad in one well-manicured hand. “Are you ready to order?”

“Yeah,” Jenna said, her eyes shifting seamlessly from me to the girl, and for a moment there was a trace of that darkness. “I’ll have a peach pie. The whole thing. Bring a big mound of ice cream with it, and some French fries.” She glanced at me. “You want the usual?”

“Huh?” I asked, taken aback. I had a usual and she knew what it was? That seemed a little strange. Still, if this was a thing we normally did, it seemed like I should let her do it. “Yeah, sure.”

“He’ll have a strawberry milkshake, extra whipped cream. A Bacon cheeseburger rare. And I mean that. You need to be able to chase it around the plate with a fork.” She glanced at the menu for a second, thinking. “Onion rings too. And bring two extra combo number ones. We’re expecting company.”

“Okay,” the girl said, nodding at the pad before repeating our order back. Evidently, ordering a whole pie wasn’t concerning, but then again, Vassago had rented out the whole place.

“I’m surprised you let me order for you, Mac,” Jenna said, smirking at me. “Normally you insist on doing it yourself.”

“I hadn’t had a chance to look at the menu, and since you know what I like…” I trailed off and finished with a shrug. Wow, we’d been alone together for all of two minutes and she was already testing me. This was going to go really well.

Jenna eyed me carefully. “Makes sense.” The way she said it made me think it didn’t make a lick of sense, but I wasn’t about to push the issue. Her hand moved across the distance between us and settled on my thigh. For a second I wondered if she was testing me, but the way her hand felt on my thigh was so familiar I could conjure a million flashes of partial fantasy where it felt real. “I missed you.”

I opened my mouth, unsure of what I was going to say, but thankfully I was saved by the bell. The chime at the front of the door rang, and as I turned to look at the people coming in, I nearly laughed.

“Glad we’re finally here. You drive like an old lady,” said the ventriloquist doll perched in front of a teeny, tiny Asian girl who didn’t seem old enough to be out of high school. Then again, she was wearing a blue and white West High cheerleader uniform, so that could have been why. I glanced from the doll to the girl and back again. As I did so, the girl smacked her doll upside his wooden skull.

“Ignore Marvin. Sometimes he talks when he’s not supposed to talk,” she said, glancing at the big Russian guy in an absurdly expensive suit holding the door open for her.

“No matter,” said the Russian with a voice so slurred, I was pretty sure his blood had been replaced with pure vodka. If he was supposed to be our leader, we were going to be in a lot of trouble because I was pretty sure he was totally drunk.

“Do you think they’re here?” the girl asked, stepping into the room as the hostess came out of the back room, spied them, and walked over.

“Are you with Mister Vassago’s party?” she asked, her voice filled with cheery strain.

“Yes,” the Russian said, looking past her and spying us. “Is that them?”

The hostess nodded before turning and leading them toward us.

I stood up as they approached and reached out one calloused hand to the Russian. “Hi, I’m Mac Brennan.” I gestured to Jenna who hadn’t bothered to stand up. “This is Jenna.”