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

by J. A. Cipriano

  Ricky stared at me for a long time. “You make a good point,” she said finally and there was a note of sadness in her voice. “But you do not know Pierce Ambrose like I do. He won’t make deals. It is not our way. He will take what he wants because if he doesn’t, he is not fit to be Alpha.”

  “Then why is your brother not already dead?” I asked, taking my chance to drive my point home even though the only thing I wanted to do was kiss her again.

  “That is the same question I’ve been asking myself since the day of the summit.” Ricky shook her head and took a step away from me. “All our seconds went in and none came out. I know my brother isn’t dead because I can still feel him through the bond of our pack, but he’s in trouble, and I must get him out.” She met my eyes. “At any cost.”

  “My point exactly.” I smiled at her as best I could. “So, how about you tell me how to find Mr. Ambrose, and I go rearrange his face with my fist?” I held up my bandaged right arm. “It’s what I’m good at.”

  “I can’t tell you where he is exactly since he never stays in one place very long, but I know where we can find someone who knows, but I’m warning you now, they won’t like you.” She stepped away from me and began rummaging in a black duffel bag on the bed.

  “If I had a nickel for every time I met someone who didn’t like me, I’d be sitting on a beach collecting twenty percent while drinking Mai Tais.” I made my way over to her as she stood up and offered me two jet black Glock .45s with what looked like fifteen round magazines.

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” She shoved the guns into my hands. “Those have silver ammunition, so they’ll work on any shifters you find. Aim for the head.” She slung the bag over her shoulder.

  “Are we likely to encounter a lot of shifters?” I asked, tucking the guns into the waistband of my slacks and wishing I had a holster or two.

  “Well, yeah. Pierce Ambrose is the alpha werewolf of this state. So you’ll probably run into some werewolves sooner or later. It’s best to be prepared.” Ricky shot me a look and realization settled over me. We were going after a werewolf powerful enough to control a whole state. If Ricky was this strong, how strong was Pierce? How strong were the people around him?

  “That’s why your pack isn’t here. You’re acting on your own, aren’t you?” I sighed. This just kept getting better and better.

  “Guess all our secrets are out in the open now. Feel better?” She gave me an annoyed look.

  “Actually, yeah. I’m not a huge fan of surprises,” I replied. “Now let’s go kill us a werewolf.”

  Chapter 10

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. We were in the middle of Little Tokyo standing outside a bar named, I shit you not, “The Devil’s Bargain.” It looked like the type of place where Yakuza hung out drinking sake and shooting people stupid enough to walk inside unawares. The parking lot was filled with expensive black luxury cars and motorcycles way more expensive than the Yamaha we’d stolen earlier. There was even a doorman who looked like he’d been on the winning end of several fights and from the look of the bulge under his jacket, was clearly packing something dangerous and semi-automatic.

  “Hey, I didn’t build the place. I just took you to it.” Ricky shrugged at me like that was supposed to make everything better. She’d changed out of her workout clothing and was wearing a black leather jacket over a white dress shirt and khaki pants.

  “So what’s the plan exactly? Walk in, demand Pierce’s location, and start beating up thugs until we find someone who tells us?” I asked while surveying the surroundings for any surprises. I had no way of knowing what we’d find inside, but even from here I could see a distinct lack of security cameras. That told me one thing. They did things here they didn’t want others to see. Wonderful.

  “No, we’re after the owner. She’ll be here. She always is since she lives upstairs with her cadre of men.” Ricky shot me a nervous glance. “She isn’t super friendly, but she’ll tell us what we want to know if we ask the right way. Just follow my lead, okay?”

  “Okay,” I replied because what else could I do?

  Ricky began walking forward uncomfortably while her left hand nervously twirled a stray lock of red hair before tucking it behind her ear. I wasn’t sure who we were going to meet inside, but I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. I’d seen Ricky less worried for our survival when driving straight at a helicopter shooting at us with a machinegun.

  Thankfully, the doorman didn’t bother to frisk us, but that was probably because he seemed to recognize Ricky which was good since it let us bypass the line of patrons waiting outside the door. I wasn’t sure what would have happened otherwise. It was already after five in the evening, and I was running out of time. I hadn’t been keen on the idea of shooting my way inside, but I would be lying if I didn’t say the possibility had crossed my mind.

  The inside of the Devil’s Bargain was exactly like what I’d have seen in one of those Japanese Samurai movies. You know, the ones with a big glass floor over a koi pond and a waterfall in the corner. It was the kind of setup that demanded a guy would get killed and fall in the water below so the pond could turn crimson.

  A line of teppanyaki tables stood across the left wall while a sushi bar took up the center wall. The right was fitted with secluding looking alcoves with curtains. Those were the kind of booths where you could go inside to have privacy for all sorts of things, but since the majority of the silk curtains were open, I was betting the people who patronized them weren’t here yet.

  Glass-topped tables filled the floor directly over the pond, and as I studied them, I realized the fish in the water weren’t koi. No, the pond below the glass floor was filled with sharks and looked to be at least fifteen feet deep. A shudder ran through me. What the hell kind of place was this?

  “Your usual table, Alpha?” asked a short Asian woman dressed in a bright red kimono with a samurai sword strapped to her back. She had her dark hair done up in a bun and punctuated with steel chopsticks. She’d come up around the normal hostess station when we’d walked in and stood in front of Ricky with her head bowed in deference.

  “No, we won’t be here for dinner,” Ricky replied, her voice crisp and empty. “I need to speak to Jinn.” The hostess visibly stiffened at the mention of the name. “It’s important.”

  “I’m very sorry, but Jinn isn’t seeing anyone tonight.” The Asian lady bowed lower. “She was very clear about not speaking with you, specifically. If you’d like, I’d be happy to arrange something for early next week?”

  “She’ll see me now,” Ricky replied, taking a step closer and pointedly invading the girl’s space. To her credit, the hostess didn’t move, merely kept her head down. It was almost like she was staring at the sharks swimming beneath our feet like they were the most interesting thing in the world, which, I mean, yeah, sharks.

  “She will not,” the hostess replied, not backing down even slightly. The muscles in her neck tensed a touch, and I realized she was a lot less submissive than she was letting on. There was no way this was going to end well. I wasn’t sure if she was a human or a werewolf, but either way, something about her gave me the impression the samurai sword might not be just for looks.

  A quick look around pretty much guaranteed the point. Several other women were dressed similarly, and every single one of them wore a katana. It could have been for show, but I was almost positive it wasn’t. Dressing up your staff like this would be an easy way to arm them in the event of an incursion while making it seem like part of the ambiance. If you operated a restaurant with supernatural patrons, you wouldn’t want just anyone working here. No, you’d want people who could take down preternatural goons who caused a disturbance with the utmost haste.

  Ricky opened her mouth to respond, but as she did, the hostess pointedly turned from her and looked right at me. Her dark eyes were filled with barely contained rage, and I could just make out an edge of amber around the irises. So she was a werewolf. Interesting. No wonder
Ricky had armed me with silver bullets.

  “If you would like to wait at the bar, I’ll be happy to have them make you whatever you like on the house. I fear your Alpha is insisting on something that cannot be. She has the tendency to forget where she is when she gets antsy. I’d prefer if we do not have a scene in public. Still, I can tell she requires more personal attention, and thusly, I will need to discuss this matter with her in private.” The hostess smiled brightly. “I trust this arrangement is okay with you?”

  I shot a glance at Ricky, and she nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “Okay,” I said as a bad feeling settled around my neck like a shawl. They were separating us which was exactly what predators did, and the idea of it made my gut tighten. There was no telling how many werewolves worked here, but I didn’t exactly relish the idea of having to kill them all. Not because I particularly cared about killing them in cold blood, which was a whole other thing in and of itself. No, it was because it’d be difficult and time consuming. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. Yeah, and maybe monkeys would fly out of my butt.

  “Excellent. I trust you will find your experience enjoyable,” the hostess said in a very good imitation of actual pleasure. “Our sashimi is of particularly high quality.”

  With one fluid movement, she spun on her heel and marched across the room toward the sushi bar. This was also when I realized part of the bar was roped off with velvet ropes and shielded by curtains similar to the ones around the booths on the wall. She parted the fine pink silk and gestured for me to follow her inside. I did so even though I didn’t like the idea of leaving Ricky alone in this place.

  Then again, she was a werewolf capable of throwing a car. She wasn’t some damsel in a tower in need of saving. No, Ricky was more than capable of taking care of herself. At least I hoped she was. For all I knew, she’d walk into the private meeting and be greeted by an AK47 filled with silver ammunition.

  Still, Ricky had been very clear about letting her handle things. If I couldn’t trust her to do that, I was going to be in trouble. Besides, it wasn’t like I knew what Jinn looked like or how to make her help us find Pierce Ambrose so I could make him sleep with the fishes.

  There was only one other person inside the curtained area. He sat at the very far end of the bar nursing a half empty beer with a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He had frumpy white-blond hair that shot out from his skull in a way that suggested he both didn’t care much about it and had just woken up. His cheeks were marred by three or four days of patchy growth and his clothes weren’t much better. He looked like he’d slept in his white button up and jeans for at least a week.

  The hostess glanced at him and made a clucking exasperated noise, before turning and smiling at me with the fakest smile I’d ever seen on a person, supernatural or otherwise. “Please sit anywhere you like.” She gestured at the four remaining seats. I nodded, and she exited without another word.

  “Don’t be afraid, Mac. I don’t bite,” the scruffy guy said, angling toward me and kicking at the stool next to him with a brown leather steel-toed boot. “It’s kind of lonely in here anyway.” He sucked on his cigarette, and the end glowed. He tossed his head back and exhaled a stream of smoke directly into a fan overhead. It was gone in an instant. “I haven’t been around here for a few years and didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms, so I’m sort of hiding out and biding my time. I’ll be honest, I haven’t had a chance to chat with anyone since I arrived. It’s sort of lonely.”

  “How did you know my name?” I asked, not moving from my spot beside the curtain. My hand was already moving under my trench coat, inching toward one of my Glocks. The man watched my movement, not missing it and not caring much about it. Bad sign. It meant my gun didn’t worry him. It was a little weird because I didn’t get the same sense of pent-up aggression and cunning I got from the werewolves. No, this guy wasn’t a shifter. I couldn’t say why, but I knew it in my bones.

  “I didn’t know your name. I called you Mac, you know, like buddy or pal.” He shrugged and put one elbow on the gold inlaid granite bar. “Who actually names their kid Mac?” He shook his head. “Your parents must be really creative.”

  “Yeah, well…” I said, crossing the tiny space. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember them.”

  “Is this the part where you regale me with your sad story so I feel guilty?” He put out the stub of his cigarette in an ashtray filled with butts and pulled a new one from his half-empty pack. There was an empty pack next to it. He shoved the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a flourish from an expensive looking zippo lighter. “Because I’ll let you in on a little secret, Mac. We all have sad stories. You don’t even have to dig too deep to find them.”

  “You know cancer is a thing,” I said, and he laughed so hard I thought he might fall off his stool. He slapped the bar hard with his hand, and the sound of it seemed to hang in the air between us.

  “Cancer can’t kill me.” He wiped his familiar-looking crystal blue eyes with the back of his hand. “I already saw my death. It’s been foretold for a long while now. Even if it hadn’t been, I’ve had so many threats against my life, cancer would have to get in line behind Godzilla and Lucifer himself.”

  “Good to know. If any radioactive lizards charged in here, I’ll make sure I run faster than you.” I sat down, leaving a stool between us. I wasn’t sure who he was, but there was definitely something off about him. I held out my left hand to him. “I’m Mac, please to meet you.”

  He shook my hand and his grip was surprisingly strong. “Danton.”

  “Like the yogurt?” I asked, pulling my hand back. He watched me do it.

  “No, like the French Revolutionary who was guillotined for not being revolutionary enough.” His eyes looked toward my right hand and lingered there like he was trying to figure something out. Fortunately, my blackened hand was hidden in my lap so he couldn’t see my demon marked flesh. I’d already gotten into the habit of unconsciously hiding it, but I really needed to start wearing a glove. The only problem was, I wasn’t cool enough to pull off wearing only one glove. Michael Jackson, I was not.

  “Do you always shake left handed? You know that’s a sign of the Devil,” Danton asked, leaning a bit closer to me, eyes gleaming. “Or are you horribly disfigured or something? Got a gross hairy wart you don’t want me to see? I know a guy that could get you some cream. It clears warts right up.”

  “Being left handed is not a sign of the Devil,” I remarked, turning away from him in annoyance.

  “It is, but not because of the reason you think. See when demons make deals with humans, they mark the right arms of the poor, stupid fools dumb enough to do it. Naturally, those people are ashamed of what they did so they start doing things with their left hands so as to not call attention to their mottled flesh. Sad, huh?” He let out a stream of smoke and pushed himself to his feet. “Well, time to hit the loo.”

  “I guess. People do things for all sorts of reasons.” I glanced around, looking for a bartender, but they were all far away. There was, however, a tiny silver bell sitting in front of me on the bar. Was I supposed to ring it to summon them? I didn’t actually want anything, but then again, I wasn’t keen to keep talking to the crazy disheveled guy who knew all about my kind. Something told me letting him see my demonic tattoos would probably bring all sorts of trouble I didn’t have time to deal with right about now.

  “No, they don’t. They do it because they are broken and pathetic.” Danton reached out like a viper and grabbed my right hand. Before I knew what happened, he had my arm slammed down on the bar, palm up. The look of disgust on his face was only rivaled by the rage rising up inside me. Had he seriously just done that in the time it took me to blink? “Who claimed you? I’m not familiar with your markings, and that is saying something.”

  “Unhand me,” I said, somewhat surprised I’d actually said “unhand me” and more surprised he actually did as I asked. He took a couple steps back and leaned against the white
and black checkered wall.

  “Look, Mac. I can tell you’re still new to the whole slave to the legions of Hell thing, so I’ll let you in on a few pieces of knowledge.” He smiled at me and took another drag on his cigarette. “First thing. I, or someone like me, will find you and kill you. Don’t get too excited. Nothing is going to happen right now. I’m not going to do it in here. I sort of like this place because people like you come in here. Usually the hostess is smart enough not to seat your kind next to me though.” He winked at me. “You must have made quite the impression on her. Still, I don’t fancy getting kicked out for causing a fight in a restaurant teeming with werewolves.” He snatched up his beer and drained it. “No, I’ll show up behind you in an alley right before you sacrifice a bag of kittens for your new dark god.” He smiled at me, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “See, for every one of you, there’s one of me. We’re like yin and yang and all that. Balance as it were.”

  “So you’re not going to kill me right now. Good to know. I have things to do.” I kept my face neutral even though I felt like I should shoot him just on principle. “Should I check the bushes outside when I leave to make sure you aren’t following me?”

  “Make jokes. It’s cool. You’re probably still getting used to your powers.” He gestured at me with his cigarette. “It won’t work on me. Your hellfire will slide off me like water off a duck’s back, but it’s still a neat trick, I’ll give you that.” He turned toward the bar and rang his bell. “I want a drink, you want a drink? Something light with bubbles to settle the stomach.” As he finished talking to me, a blonde woman straight out of the centerfold of Playboy wearing a tight-fitting navy blue blazer materialized on the other side of the bar.