twice cursed mage 05 - claimed Read online

  I crawled forward on my hands and knees, careful to keep low to the ground. My abdomen screamed with every movement, and as I stopped to give myself a breather, another bullet tore up the space a foot or so in front of me, plunging into the dirt I’d been about to move onto. Jesus, that had been close.

  A horrible thought filled my brain. Could they see me? I wasn’t sure, but either way I had to get out of here, especially since I had no idea where they were. My spidey sense started going crazy, and I threw myself to the side. A bullet smacked into the wall where my head had been, tearing a hole in the plaster and pelting me with debris.

  I rolled into the bushes, ignoring the branches as they snagged at my scrubs. The second I was free, I sprang forward into a roll toward the police cruiser parked by the sidewalk. It hurt like all of Hell had decided to throw a party in my gut, but I pushed it down. Hey, it wasn’t like I was particularly tough or anything, but adrenaline and fear of death are wonderful things.

  Blood seeped through the torso of my scrubs as I reached up and jerked open the cop car’s passenger door. A quick glance told me the keys were in the ignition. Good.

  A smirk crossed my lips. The owner probably hadn’t expected his cop car to get boosted, but then again, I hadn’t expected to wake up naked and sliced open inside a morgue. Besides, sometimes it’s all about making that GTA.

  As I threw myself inside, another bullet shattered the driver’s side window before lodging itself in the center console. I ignored it, pressed the heel of my palm down on the brake and turned the key. The police car roared to life as I shifted into gear and pressed my hand down on the gas while tucking myself beneath the passenger side dashboard.

  The car took off, immediately biting into the curb as I reached up to swerve into the street. Another round hit the car, tearing through the rear driver’s side window and punching a hole in the backseat. As I pulled the passenger door shut, I took three breaths and poked my head up enough to see what’s what. I was rewarded by not getting my skull blown apart. Satisfied, I was out of the sniper’s range, I slid into the driver’s seat and maneuvered into the street. The bottom of the car scraped along on the curb as I gunned it. The jolt made my teeth snap together, but when another bullet didn’t give me another hole in my head, I counted myself lucky.

  The car was too hot to keep for long, especially because the gunshots would likely have the owner sprinting back outside, but I probably had at least a couple minutes. I turned a hard right down a side street, and as I did, I realized I’d turned down a blind alley. Damn.

  As I slammed on the brakes, and the car shuddered to a stop, I collided with the dashboard. My breath whooshed from my lungs. I wasn’t sure how long I lay there slumped over the steering wheel, but it was far too long for it to be safe. I got my battered, bloodied body up and took a look in the rearview as I shifted into reverse, only to see a black paneled van with tinted windows that looked absolutely nothing like a police vehicle swing into the alley and block me in. Fuck. I didn’t know who it was inside that van, but something told me it probably belonged to the people trying to kill me.

  “Fuck!” I cried, slamming my foot down on the accelerator while wishing I’d actually been stopped by law enforcement. I know, sad right?

  My cop car rocketed backward in a screech of burning rubber and opened the driver’s door. It caught on a dumpster and was sheared off the vehicle in a spray of sparks.

  Just as we were about to collide in a horrible game of chicken, I sucked in a deep breath and threw myself from the driver’s side door. As the police car’s rear bumper kissed the steel front end of the black van, I was too busy slamming into the brick wall with my shoulder and turning myself into a bloody mess to see what happened, but I heard it. Breaking glass, shrieking brakes, and crumpling metal.

  The smell of gasoline hit my nose as I pulled myself to my feet and hazarded a glance at the van. It was a mistake because even though the police car had been ground under the van like a badly designed ramp and flames were sprouting from beneath the van’s hood, an MP5 was pointed in my general direction. The staccato crack of a full auto burst hit my ears as I dropped to my knees in the alley.

  Bits of shrapnel bounced off the wall over my head and hit me as I scrambled forward out of their range. I threw myself around the dumpster, hoping the thick steel would protect me. There was just one problem, I had nowhere to go. Fuck. Double fuck.

  Well, if I was going down, I was taking these bastards with me. I called upon my power, causing my vision to go hazy. Crimson flame danced across my arm as I summoned a ball of pure Hellfire to my hand.

  The sound of boots hitting the gravel filled my ears as I counted silently in my head. When I got to three, I spun and threw my flaming right hand toward them.

  “Ignis!” A blast of concentrated flaming death leapt from my outstretched fingers and slammed into the lead gunman, throwing him backward into his three buddies. Fire washed over his blackened SWAT-style body armor before falling away, and I realized whatever they were wearing would deflect Hellfire. That wasn’t good.

  Undaunted, I sprinted toward the guys with the guns because if I couldn’t fight them with fire, I had two fists just itching for some facetime.

  My bare foot smacked into the gunman on the left as he started to get to his feet, snapping his head backward and throwing him to the ground. I didn’t stop moving, stepping past him and his buddies and bursting out of the alley.

  My lungs screamed with the effort, and my legs were so shaky, I nearly collapsed as I took a few steps onto the sidewalk and whirled.

  “Ignis,” I muttered. More Hellfire sprang from my hand as the light from my tattoos winked out and exhaustion overtook me. I staggered backward, trying my best to hurry as the fireball hit the police car about where the leaking gas tank was.

  The resulting explosion threw me from my feet. I landed hard on my back, stars shooting past my eyes as I tried to orient myself to my situation. The world felt cloudy and opaque as I rolled myself onto my hands and knees and tried to breathe. I succeeded, but barely. My breaths were so shallow, they barely constituted as such.

  My abdomen was completely soaked with blood, and even though I tried to ignore it, I knew I didn’t have long before I passed out, died, or both. Already, the sounds of sirens were filling my ears, and I wondered if these were people who had been diverted from the morgue, or if someone had just decided to send the whole goddamned force.

  Still, I was surprised at the level of resistance I’d faced already from the people out to get me, and if I’d heard Jenna right before, I was betting these guys belonged to the Council of Seven who had come to claim the city because these guys had come prepared, that was for damned sure. And that was when they thought I was dead. How would they come after me now? I almost didn’t want to know.

  As I got to my feet and took a shaky step, that thought was suddenly replaced by another one. Were my sister and nephew safe? If these people knew about me, had they kidnapped them? I hoped not. That’d be stupid. Then again, I was nuzzling up against death’s door.

  I tried to take a deep breath, and as I did, I saw the glint of something on a building far off. I collapsed to my knees just as a bullet split the air where my head had been. Only there was nowhere to go. I was in the middle of the street with no cover. Cover. There was a manhole cover right beside me.

  I leapt for it, calling everything I had left as I did so.

  “Ignis!” I cried right as my hand touched the metal. Crimson flame sprang from my fingertips, enveloping the manhole cover and turning it into superheated steam as I crashed through into the darkness below.

  Chapter 4

  I hit the ground below hard, slamming into the sludge on my shoulders and tumbled for a couple feet before landing face first in the muck. Luckily, I managed to keep from braining myself or breaking something. Have I mentioned what a nice gal, Lady Luck is?

  The smell of week old garbage was nearly overpowering, and let me just say, dry heavin
g with a torn open gut is not even slightly fun. Agony ripped through the core of my being, twisting up like a white-hot chain of fire around my torso as my abdomen struggled to push everything in my empty stomach out.

  I wasn’t sure how long I lay there, alternating between vomiting and crying out in pain at having done so when I realized I could feel the gunk seeping through my scrubs and into my torn open abdomen. Fuck. If I survived this, I was going to need a hell of an antibiotic.

  As I got slowly to my feet and tried to ignore the fact I was covered in sewage, I began plodding forward, mostly because it was the same as going backward as far as I was concerned. I had no doubt the assholes after me were going to be down here within minutes and I wanted to be gone when that happened. With any luck, I could find a nice dark alcove to hide and kill them from the shadows.

  Still, I knew I wasn’t going to make it far. My Hellfire patch job might have held up until now, but it wouldn’t work much longer, especially since I could feel myself running low on magic. I needed to find a real doctor, get this bastard stitched up, and go lie in a hole with ten bags of Doritos for a few weeks. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure I had that kind of time.

  As I stumbled along, I came to a fork and turned left, then right a little ways later. I kept my ears open but heard nothing save for my own labored breathing. The murky water grew deeper with each step, but I pressed on anyway, my chest heaving with effort.

  After a few minutes that felt like hours, I’d seen a couple manholes above, but I still didn’t think I was far enough away to climb out and chance my way on the street. Even if I wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb in my muck-covered scrubs, I had no way of knowing what was topside. Assuming I could even get a manhole cover open from beneath, I might pop my head up in front of a semi-truck, and while I was hardheaded, I was pretty sure the truck would win that one.

  I just needed someone to help me, but I wasn’t sure who could help me. If I went to Sera’s place, I risked bringing down the full force of these bastards on her son, John. I couldn’t do that, especially not knowing how bad the council of seven Jenna had talked about was. I mean, I was just guessing the Texan and everyone else was part of that. It might not have been, but you know, the simplest answer is probably the correct one. I was going to assume it was correct until proven otherwise. Besides, if I had two groups of killers after me, things were going to get all sorts of dicey.

  Fortunately, there was one person who could help me, and he was more than capable of punching a few tickets if someone came after him. I wasn’t sure if he’d help me, but I had no reason to think otherwise. Of course, the last time I’d shown up at his place, someone had thrown a tanker truck through his front door, so I didn’t know if he’d be around. It wasn’t like I knew where the old vampire lived. Still, it was a plan, and right now I was wandering around in a sewer bleeding to death. Man, any port in a storm was right.

  The sound of boots splashing in the water behind me made me freeze in place. I held my breath, squeezing up against the concrete walls, and listened like I’d never listened before. Something was definitely moving closer. Fuck.

  A shadow barely discernable from the darkness fell across the space in front of me and stopped. I couldn’t make out the figure, it was too dark for details, but as I watched him from my perch in the darkness, he turned his head toward me.

  “Mac Brennan?” he asked, looking right at me. I caught the briefest flash of pink from his eyes as he took a step closer, palms up like he meant no harm.

  Well, he clearly knew where I was, so my element of surprise was gone. I wasn’t sure who he was, but he hadn’t started our conversation by pointing a Colt in my face. Hey, and people say I have trouble trusting people.

  “I’m Mac Brennan,” I wheezed, and my voice sounded like I’d smoked one too many cheap cigars.

  “Sounds like you got rode hard and put away wet,” he chuckled, moving closer to me. “Names Ramon, and I’m here to help.”

  “Are you with the government?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

  “Not in the way you think,” he said, shaking his head as he stepped toward me and a small teacup toy yorkie was sticking its head out from the pocket of his overcoat. “Come, I can explain everything, but it’s not safe here.” He sniffed. “And your gut is infected. Let me help you. What have you got to lose?”

  “My life? Why should I trust you?” I asked even though I had no better options, which pissed me off to no end. It would only be a matter of time before the thugs found me, and I was in no place to wax more asses. Still, the idea of relying on the kindness of strangers after what had just happened, didn’t exactly sit well with me.

  “You know that saying about how you should always trust a man who is nice to his dog?” he asked, gesturing at the yorkie while reaching into another pocket and producing a small Chihuahua. “Well, I have two dogs.” He waved the Chihuahua’s paw at me. “Say hello, Cisco.”

  I smirked. I couldn’t help it. “You know what. I’m going to trust you this one time, Ramon.”

  “Very good.” He pocketed the dog and moved past me, clomping through the slime in a way that made me think he was used to doing so. “Hurry. Your pursuers are already in the sewer. They will be here in minutes. Fortunately, no one knows the sewers like I do.”

  “Thanks,” I said, clutching my wounded stomach with one hand and following behind him. I could feel blood trickling between my fingers as I moved, and I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t bled to death yet. Whatever the Hellfire had done, it’d helped me.

  “Don’t thank me. Thank Ricky. She is the one who asked me to help you.” Ramon shrugged. “She thought you’d be more difficult about it though, but then again, I have a pretty trusting face.”

  “Wait, Ricky’s okay?” I asked, my heart nearly bursting with relief. She hadn’t come herself, but she’d sent someone. Still, why hadn’t she come? I couldn’t think of what might be more important, but I was willing to bet the reason wasn’t thousand dollar scotch and huckleberry pie. Yeah, I liked that analogy too.

  “Define okay,” he said, and the tone of his voice made my blood run cold with sudden fear. Something was definitely wrong in Ricky-town. “Because if by okay, you mean alive, then sure, she’s barely okay.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” I asked, double-timing it to catch up with the guy as a surge of fear rippled through me. Ricky was in trouble. I wasn’t sure how or why, but I knew I had to save her. I couldn’t let anyone hurt her, not for any reason.

  “She’s trapped in a gauntlet fighting until she dies.” He shrugged. “It’s a thing.”

  “A thing?” I asked, trying to ignore the urge to grab the guy and force him to take me to her post haste. I didn’t because I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I mean, I could practically see my intestines, what was I going to do? Bleed on our enemies? Still, there had to be something. I couldn’t just let her face off against whatever was in that gauntlet alone.

  He waved off my question. “The time for questions is not now.”

  “Oh?” I asked because it damned well was time for questions.

  “Yes. Now is time for silence.” He shrugged for the millionth time. “Unless you want our pursuers to find you. Personally, it doesn’t bother me. They’re not after me.”

  Chapter 5

  By the time we reached Ramon’s hideaway within the sewer, I was pretty sure I was dead. Only, being dead would have hurt less. Each step I took was like jamming a railroad spike into my gut, and I don’t think I’d have made it if Ramon hadn’t thrown one of my arms over his shoulder and dragged me along. He was surprisingly strong.

  Thankfully, we hadn’t run into any pursuers, which was good. I wasn’t sure how good Ramon would have been in a fight and I was running on fumes.

  “Welcome to my humble home,” Ramon said, shuffling us over to a threadbare red couch covered in a sheet of industrial plastic. He dropped me unceremoniously on top of it, and it made a sort of scratchy noise as I set
tled onto the well-flattened cushions. Still, I was glad to get off my feet and beggars can’t be choosers. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”

  He shot me an apologetic look, his eyes lingering on my cursed arm for a moment before crossing the ten-foot room and ducking under a large sewer pipe. Well, that was certainly strange.

  Part of me wondered how the hell he’d gotten a couch, loveseat, and a fridge down into this tiny sewer but most of me didn’t care. It didn’t smell and was pretty lacking in the dampness department which was good. A string of Christmas lights blinked on overhead, followed by a couple of those Home Depot shop lights, filling the room with a nearly obscene amount of light.

  I lay there under the glare, shielding my eyes so I wouldn’t go blind as the sound of footsteps clomping through slime filled my ears.

  “Hey, Mac,” Maya said, gesturing at me with a cheap bottle of Popov vodka as she stepped into the room wearing pink rain boots, a vinyl skirt, and a Beetlejuice T-shirt two sizes too small for her particularly busty frame. “Long time no see.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, hoping she wasn’t here to chop me up and sell me for parts. That was the absolute last thing I needed.

  “Someone called a doctor,” she said, sauntering over to me, fake breasts bouncing as she moved. “Good thing too, you’re in a bad way.” She leaned down over me and pulled up my shirt to reveal my torn abdomen. Then she cringed.

  “You’re the doctor?” I asked, wondering if I should just chance it without her. The last time I’d met Maya, she’d helped me take out Baal, but I still hadn’t forgotten how she’d tried to carve me up like a Thanksgiving turkey. The idea of letting her operate on me seemed a tad bit insane.

  “Yup. I completed med school a couple years ago,” she said before unceremoniously dumping the bottle of vodka over my abdomen. I screamed as everything inside me distilled down into sheer, unadulterated agony. “Residency wasn’t for me and let’s just say stitching up car accident survivors in the ER isn’t my idea of a fun weekend.”