“Well, that makes sense,” she said like it totally made sense even though I was pretty sure it made no sense at all. Something about the way she looked at me next made me think she knew a lot more than she was letting on. That made me instantly wary of her. I resolved to be more careful in the near future and glanced at my Beretta. Maybe I would be shooting her after all though that would make saving her a little pointless. Besides, I had promised to leave, and she still had her revolver pointed at me.
“Care to explain why it makes sense?” I said, unable to keep the peevishness out of my voice. “It’s been a rough morning.”
“Because otherwise you’d remember you made a deal with a devil to get that arm.” She gestured at me with one copper-nailed hand. “That’s what the black skin means. The red tattoo on your arm is where the demon signed its name on your flesh. It was branding you so everyone else would know who you made your deal with. You’re a modern day Faust. Congratulations. Hope it was worth it.”
I suddenly couldn’t breathe. Had I seriously made a deal with a demon to have my arm turned black as pitch? On purpose? Why the hell would I have done something like that? Whatever it was, I was sure it was important. Too bad I couldn’t remember why. Frustration crept up the back of my neck as I stared down at my black hand. No one would get something like this unless they really needed it. “What if I don’t believe you?”
“Yeah, because an arm like that is normal? I mean, day-glow tattoos? All the rage.” She shook her head in annoyance. “Look, I bet when you used your power, you smelled sulfur.”
“Power? Sulfur?” I replied feeling like a dumbass as I looked down at my arm and tried to make sense of her words. “What’s sulfur even smell like?”
“You know, rotten eggs, swamp gas. That sort of thing? That’s the smell of demons, of your cursed magic.” Her lips compressed into a thin smile. “I’ve never seen tats like yours though. They speak of ancient power. I’m guessing it was a pretty powerful demon who gave them to you. I’ll bet he wanted something pretty important to give you power like that. Something like, oh I don’t know, all your memories. I mean Jesus H. Christ, I’m not an expert. This kind of shit doesn’t happen every day.”
Her words made a bead of cold sweat drip down my back. I had smelled rotten eggs when I’d clung to the inside of that dumpster and again when I’d fought the thugs in the laundromat. Either she was super observant and pushing my buttons in just the right way, or I really had bargained away my memories to a demon in exchange for power. No, not just a run of the mill demon, but a super-powerful demon. Awesome. The day was starting to look up. You know, in the whole baring its teeth and getting ready to leap at my throat sort of way.
Chapter 6
True to my word, I left without accosting her further. It was the gentlemanly thing to do after all. Especially since I’d promised her. What good was a man’s word if he then went and broke it? Not much.
It didn’t help that I was starting to get the feeling I hadn’t exactly been the world’s nicest guy in my former life because “hello, demonic tattoos.” If what she’d told me was true, I was essentially tainted by evil and had to start making up for it now.
Still, I’d sold my soul for a reason, and I was just dying to figure out why I’d gone and done it. Surely, there had to be a good reason because just the idea of doing it filled me with abject terror, and somehow, I’d actually followed through with it. Maybe it had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it stunk of desperation. It was the kind of thing someone would only do as a last recourse. It made it even more important for me to find out why I’d become a modern day Faust because in most versions of that story, things didn’t end well for him.
The reason itched at the edge of my consciousness like a cut inside my mouth I couldn’t stop tonguing. So first thing was first. I was going to find a library or a computer and Google myself. If that didn’t work, I was going to strongly consider hitting up a police station to see if I’d been reported missing. I’ll admit, I was hesitant to approach the police, especially because of my whole demonic arm thing. Everything told me such a move would prove unwise. What if I had warrants or something? No, it’d be better to go the easy way before going the potentially impossible to escape from way.
“Mac, wait,” the brunette called from the doorway to the apartment building. I turned on the sidewalk outside her building and stared at her in disbelief. Why had she come down here after forcing me out at gunpoint?
She stood there, breathing hard. Most of her body was hidden behind a door that looked like it had gotten kicked in one to many times by the police. That and the building’s peeling paint made me wonder what part of the city we were in. Definitely not the better part, that was for sure. Still, it was definitely not my problem.
“Yeah?” I said, noting her distinct lack of a gun when she emerged and how she had changed into a gray knit sweater with a kitten on it and jeans. Well, those were positive developments.
“I just wanted you to know a couple more things.” She stepped out from the doorway and moved onto the sidewalk, but didn’t approach further. It reminded me of the way people acted around feral kittens. “I Googled that name you gave me on my phone. The most notable Mac Brennan is a bicyclist who looks nothing like you. The other Mac Brennans don’t look anything like you either. It could just be that you have stayed off the grid, but I think Mac Brennan might be a fake name.” She bit her lip and looked away from me as her words sank in. The one clue I had might be worthless. Why then would the name be stenciled into my brain? It made no sense.
Then again, just because the almighty Google didn’t know anything about Mac Brennan didn’t mean it wasn’t my name, it just meant the internet gods had neglected to keep tabs on me. That still left the police. With any luck, someone had called looking for me. Sure, it was a long shot, but I had nothing else.
“Thanks for letting me know,” I replied, trying my best to smile at her. I wasn’t sure if I succeeded. “You didn’t have to do that, it was exceedingly nice of you.”
“That’s not the only reason why I stopped you.” I held up my hand to stop her from talking, allowing the sunlight to play off my blackened flesh. My skin seemed to absorb the light itself which was a little weird. I tried to put it out of my mind, but I couldn’t. I was cursed, someone who made a deal with a demon in exchange for power. If she helped me more, she would be putting herself, and her son, in danger. Even if I ignored the possibility that I’d hurt them myself, who knew what was coming out of the woodwork to find me? No, I couldn’t let her help me. It was too much of a risk.
“You don’t have to do this. You don’t owe me anything.” I turned to walk away. She had a kid after all. My Faustian situation was no place for a single mother with a young child. The best thing I could do for all of us was leave.
She shot me a grin that made me stop in my tracks. “I know someone who might be able to help you.”
“You know someone who can help me?” I asked, taking a step toward her. The amount of hope in my voice scared me a little. “Who? How?”
“Someones. They know a lot about magical stuff.” She gestured at my arm. “They can probably help you out, but if you ask me any more questions about it, the deal is off the table, capiche?”
“It isn’t like I have a lot of options, and I really appreciate the offer,” I replied, letting out a small breath. “But I’m not sure I want you involved. You’ve got a son, and you’ve already done more than enough.”
“I’m a grown woman. I make my own decisions.” She leveled a steely glare at me. “I’m willing to help you this one time, and admittedly, it’s mostly to get you far away from me. The sooner your stink is across the city, the better.”
“Well, that’s something I can live with,” I said cocking a wry grin at her. “Self-preservation and all.”
“I’m glad you’re okay with me basically wanting you as far away from my son as possible.” Her face was set in resignation even though I was pretty su
re a smile was threatening to break across her lips.
“Who me?” I put my right hand to my chin in mock horror and stared at her. “Surely you don’t mean me. I’m a great influence on small, impressionable children. Why I think I can even make balloon animals.”
She probably said something in response, but that was when someone smacked me upside the back of the head with a baseball bat, so I missed it, opting instead to collapse to the ground in a flurry of splintered wood as my vision went dark and hazy.
I lay there trying to orient myself to my new horizontal reality on the sidewalk as a pair of size fifteen work boots stepped over me and stopped a few inches away. The scent of wet dog filled my nostrils as I pulled in a ragged breath that tasted of blood. The world wouldn’t top spinning. The world’s a bitch sometimes. I settled for letting bloody saliva trickle out of my mouth. Sometimes compromise is necessary, be the willow and all that.
“Get the fuck over here! Now!” the guy I’d clotheslined in the laundromat snarled at the brunette. That didn’t make a lot of sense. I’d hit him hard enough to practically crush his windpipe. He ought to be in a hospital, if not unconscious. He shouldn’t be standing here outside her apartment after braining me with a Louisville Slugger. Well, screw him then. Next time I was going to do something a lot more permanent.
I tried to look up at the brute, but he moved out of my frame of vision. Even though I wanted to do it, I couldn’t make my gaze follow him. Just trying caused nausea to swirl in my belly, leap up my throat, and smack into the back of my teeth before slipping from my lips in a pathetic, bloody dribble. I guess there wasn’t much inside me to come out. Good, I’d hate to have to get yet another pair of clothes.
“You curse way too much. A simple please would go a long way,” the brunette said before her words were interrupted by the smack of his hand on her face. The sound made me shudder in commiseration as she fell into my view, one hand gripping her cheek. Her copper-colored nails a sharp contrast to her white skin.
“Bitch, you breathe too much. Shut the fuck up before I fuck your shit up. It’d be easier if you just came along all quiet like.” The guy grabbed her by the hair and hauled her to her feet. “Causin’ all this trouble, makin’ me hit you.” He shook his head and pushed her past me, unconcerned by my sidewalk-strewn form. Well, that was a big mistake. “You should know the deal by now. What Ricky wants, Ricky gets.”
Ricky? Who the hell was Ricky and what did the brunette have to do with him? Did she know these two guys? It was starting to seem like it based on how quickly they’d found us. I had no idea how that was even possible unless they already knew where she lived. Maybe she was into more than she was letting on. After all, she did know about my arm and what it meant. It didn’t seem like the type of knowledge someone learned by accident, and hadn’t she just said she had friends who could help me? No, there was more to her than met the eye.
Unfortunately, that meant I needed her to help me, especially since I had no idea how to get in touch with her friends if I let this guy take her. Besides, hadn’t they learned their lesson already? She was under my protection. I’d have to make that fact crystal clear.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world, my fingers wrapped around the pistol I’d stolen from him earlier. As he marched the girl away from me, I fired three quick rounds into his back. They hit him center mass, pitching him forward in a spray of blood and thicker bits. I half-worried one of the bullets might have gone all the way through and struck the brunette, but I’d tried to angle my shots to keep that from happening.
The woman pulled herself from his spasming grip and sprinted toward me, her white shoes slapping the concrete loudly as the thug collapsed to the ground. Only, he didn’t fall in the way he should. He had one hand on the sidewalk in front of him. His face was twisted into a snarl, and a low guttural howl exploded from his lips. I watched in amazement as the blood gushing from his back slowed to a trickle and stopped. Well, that sucked. No wonder my clothesline of doom had done little to stop him.
“Get up!” the woman cried, grabbing me by my arm and pulling me to my feet before I could figure out how I was facing some guy with Wolverine’s healing factor in real life. My entire world spun on its axis, and the gun slipped from my hand and hit the ground with a clang. Thankfully, it didn’t go off.
The bullets pushed out from the thug’s puckered skin and hit the cement with a dull clang before wounds in his flesh closed up like he’d never been hurt at all. He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt and turned to glare at us, but mostly at me. His muscles corded and strained against his flesh as he took one jerky step toward us, giving me the distinct impression things were writhing beneath his flesh. What the hell was he?
Fear wrapped around me, rendering me practically immobile. I’d never seen anything like this before, hadn’t even thought it was possible. What the hell kind of thing gets shot and not only shrugs it off, but magically heals? I was screwed. There was no way for me to fight something like this.
His fingers opened and closed like he was fixing to wrap them around my throat and choke the life out of me, which while disconcerting, was nothing compared to the look in his wolfish, amber eyes. I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed them before, but as the brunette tried to drag me away, those eyes made everything very clear. If we ran, he would chase us, and he would enjoy it. No, running was death. The only way to win would be to face him head on and grab the bull by the horns.
I shoved my panic down deep, and even though I knew it might be the last thing I ever did, I shoved the brunette away. His eyes met mine and a horrific snarl spread across his face. I tried to step into a fighting stance, but given the sidewalk’s sudden propensity to rock back and forth beneath my feet wound up being able to do little more than stand there. Somehow, I managed to hold out my right hand and curl my black as pitch fingers toward my body.
“Bring it.” The words had barely left my lips when the thug charged. My shoes lifted off the ground as he drove one ham-sized fist into my stomach. My right hand lashed out anyway, seizing his wrist as red light flared from my skin and spilled out the cuff of my trench coat.
“Sorbeo!” I cried, and the word exploded from my lips like a gunshot. Energy surged through me, rippling up out of his flesh and flowing up my right arm like I’d gripped a live electrical wire. The man’s face twisted in agony before melting like running candle wax. He lashed out with his other hand, seizing my wrist and trying to pull my hand away from his arm. I barely felt him.
The musky scent of wolf filled my nostrils as I inhaled a breath that somehow steadied me on my feet. Another surge of adrenaline burst through my veins, bringing with it visions of the full moon. My knee shot out, catching him in the crotch and doubling him over as I released my hold on his wrist. Instantly, his melting face froze in place, reminding me of oozing metal being doused with liquid nitrogen.
He slumped forward onto the ground as I grabbed him by the ear with my right hand. His skin blackened beneath my grip, and the smell of burned flesh filled my nostrils. With about as much effort as it would have taken to pick up a used Kleenex, I lifted him into the air by his ear. Admittedly, I was half-surprised his own bodyweight didn’t tear it straight off his body. Then again, I’d just seen him shrug off some gunshots so there was that. Well, I had something a little more permanent in mind this time.
Power I didn’t know I had roiled up inside me, filling me with strength as I stepped forward and flung the huge man directly into the path of an oncoming work truck. The white, three-quarter-ton pickup smashed into the guy with so much force, it hurt me to watch. The truck slammed on its brakes, sending its tires skidding on the street in a burst of smoke that carried the scent of burnt rubber, but it was way too late for it to matter.
Guilt and fear swept up over me as I caught sight of the panicked workers inside. I’d just thrown a guy into his truck with my demon enhanced arm, and I had no idea how I’d managed to do it. As much as I’d hoped she’d been
wrong about the whole deal with the devil thing, I was starting to think maybe she was right after all. Maybe I really had traded my soul to a demon for power. How else could I explain what I’d just done?
“We should go before Tall, Dark, and Heals-gunshot-wounds gets up and tries to kick your rather nice ass once again,” I said, feeling more energized than I had since I’d woken up in the morning. My arm had faded back to its non-radioactive mode, but whatever it had done when I’d grabbed the brute left me feeling pumped. I needed to run a marathon or lift some weights. Hell, I needed to get into another fight.
I was pretty sure I’d gotten a concussion when the thug had used my skull for batting practice but somehow, grabbing him had healed me. I wasn’t sure how that’d happened, but I wasn’t keen to try it out again if I could help it. Gift horses and all that.
The girl shot a glance at the still skidding truck and smirked even though that didn’t seem like the proper reaction. Shouldn’t she have been horrified by what I’d done? The thug was underneath the huge vehicle somewhere, no doubt twisted into a mangled mishmash of flesh, and while I had no way of knowing if he’d be getting back up, maybe she did? Judging by her lack of concern, he would be. That worried me, but not nearly as much as I was about his friend. If the two were anything alike, I did not want to be here if he decided to make an appearance.
“I agree,” she said, glancing past me toward the parking lot of the building as the sound of sirens filled my ears. I watched her shoulders sag a little as she took one last look at the pickup. “Come on.” Her words seemed to come out of her like they were made of razor blades and shrapnel.
“Thanks,” I said as I scooped up the Beretta and followed behind her. Part of me hoped her friends would be able to fill me in on why cherry light spilled off the tattoos on my blackened arm like a fourth of July firework when I’d grabbed the brute accosting her. The other part of me hoped I hadn’t just deposited a boat load of trouble on her doorstep. If I had, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make up for it.
Cursed: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Thrice Cursed Mage Book 1) Page 4