Cursed: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Thrice Cursed Mage Book 1)

by J. A. Cipriano

I pushed it out of my mind and plunged my hands into the freezing water, desperate to wash off the smears of blood and the stink of hot garbage. The sensation was hard to describe because while it should have been cold enough to turn my skin blue, it felt more like lukewarm bathwater. Maybe the room was just chillier than I’d thought and the comparison was messing with my mind?

  There were no goosebumps on my naked body though, and I didn’t feel particularly cold. It was curious, but not as curious as the dark tendrils extending out from my right shoulder. They reminded me of slowly spreading rot. It was like a promise of things to come. None of them good.

  That’s when I freaked out and started scrubbing at my flesh, trying desperately to get the ink off my skin. The blood and grit came off pretty quickly, but the darkness remained behind, stubbornly clinging to my arm. Whoever had done this to me had sure made it tough to get off.

  I stood there scrubbing my flesh raw until the draining water ran clear. I let out a slow breath as cold water ran down the back of my neck and decided I needed to get myself a real shower with warm water. So far, I’d just assaulted the darkness with cold water and soap so cheap it couldn’t even get the gunk out from beneath my fingernails. That wasn’t going to do the job on this black stuff. Whoever had done this, didn’t want me getting it off easily. I wasn’t sure why that was the case, but it would probably make perfect sense once I figured out who I was and what was going on.

  “I just need to get out of here,” I mumbled to myself before I pulled on another man’s underwear. If stealing it had been a low point, this one was five feet under. I bit my lip to keep from cursing in frustration and put on the rest of my permanently-borrowed clothing. I hadn’t found a belt or shoes so I was forced to use my old ones. Thankfully, the cheap black leather loafers and matching black belt were easy enough to clean off with paper towels and soapy water. I’d still have to trade them in, but for now I was confident they’d withstand cursory inspection.

  In a fit of neighborliness, I gathered up the remnants of my bloody clothing and dumped it in the trash instead of leaving it on the floor. That done, I began moving toward the door, intent on letting myself out of the place. Something behind me grabbed ahold of the back of my neck and jerked me backward so abruptly, I nearly fell on my ass. I spun, fists raised, but the only thing I saw was my trench coat sticking out of the trashcan even though I was pretty sure I’d put it on the bottom. It was pristine which was somewhat surprising since I didn’t remember cleaning it off.

  Before I realized what I was doing, I’d pulled it free of the garbage can and slung it on. Something about wearing the heavy black coat felt like coming home. Perhaps it had sentimental value my lizard brain wouldn’t let me ignore. That must have been it.

  I probably looked ridiculous standing there in a half-tucked blue polo, a black trench coat, and khaki pants several inches too long for my thirty-two inch legs, but hey, maybe I was going to go scare children at the local Walmart after I figured out who I was. I had no memories after all, so who knew what I was supposed to be doing right now?

  With that thought still fresh in my mind, I unlocked the door and stepped out into the laundromat to see two hulking men in tank tops beating the shit out of a five-foot-nothing woman.

  Chapter 3

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I yelled at the thugs trying to stomp a mud hole in the girl’s ass.

  The two brutes glanced at me from across the laundromat with black as mud eyes. The dismissal plastered across their faces made me angry in a way I couldn’t quite explain. Clearly, they didn’t see me as much of a threat and that was unacceptable. I stepped forward with the sudden desire to show them exactly who the alpha male was in here.

  The guy closest to me was bigger than his compatriot and had skin the color of coffee spoiled by too much cream. His bulk seemed to overflow out of his sweat-stained white tank top, making me think of someone who had probably played sports in high school, but had since let an extra layer of years build up over his muscles. He turned his shaved head back toward the brunette, ignoring me. A surge of rage exploded in the back of my brain.

  Something reptilian and angry lifted itself up from the recesses of my mind as I took a step forward, my hands clenched as my eyes zeroed in on the woman’s raven-colored hair still clutched in the thug’s meaty fist. The beginning of a bruise in the shape of a handprint was evident on her left cheek and blood dribbled from her swollen lips and down her chin. Blood was spattered all across the cheap tile floor of the laundromat.

  The thug holding her raised his other hand like he was going to slap the taste out of her mouth even though I was standing right there. I guess he didn’t care about witnesses. Well, I’d make him regret that. I took another step forward as a red film of rage filled my vision.

  “What have we here?” his compatriot, a tattooed white gorilla with a face like a bulldog and a military buzz cut said. He raised one dark eyebrow as he watched me cross the room. “Some kind of hero?” He cracked his massive neck before sniffing at the air hard enough for his industrial-sized nostrils to flare. “Trust me, she’s not worth it, pal. Best hurry on your way.”

  “I’m not a hero,” I said as a glimpse into my past zipped across my mind. The girl was different, and the guy beating her had been her boyfriend, but the circumstances had been otherwise the same. I’d done something to the guy. I stopped mid-step and reached for the memory, grasping for it with mental hands, but it slipped through my ethereal fingers and disappeared into the winds, leaving me with a faded picture of me covered in the guy’s blood.

  “Good to know. If you’re smart, you won’t be here long,” said the dark one in a bored tone. Then, like I wasn’t there at all, he smacked the tiny brunette hard enough for the sound of it to reverberate through the room before tossing her across the cheap linoleum floor.

  She bounced once and slid to a stop at the booted feet of the man’s partner. Her trip left a crimson snail trail in her wake. They’d really have to have done a number on her for that to happen. That realization made me want to tear them in half, to show them what it felt like to be beaten to a bloody pulp. It was one thing to ignore me, but it was quite another to beat the crap out of a woman who probably weighed less than a hundred pounds soaking wet.

  My eyes snapped from the brunette on the laundromat’s floor to the bulldog-faced thug coming toward me. His arms were covered in tattoos of babies being skewered on spikes and other evil shit, and while something told me I should be scared, I just wasn’t. Not even a little. I wanted him to attack me, to give me an excuse to end him.

  Instinctively, my right hand tightened into a fist, and I could have sworn I smelled the faintest hint of rotten eggs and swamp gas. Not only that, the temperature seemed to creep up a couple degrees as I took my own step forward to meet the bruiser’s charge.

  “The fuck you think you’re gonna do here, pal?” The bulldog’s mouth curled into a snarl as he reached out one hand to stop me. I walked brazenly into it so his palm was pressed against my chest. The man’s eyes narrowed as he glanced from his hand to my face. “Newsflash son, you don’t want to save this girl. She’s not worth it.”

  My vision went red with rage as everything inside me screamed for me to tear him apart. A snarl tore from my lips, and without thinking, I grabbed his wrist with my right hand and twisted while stepping in closer so I could throw my entire bodyweight into the movement. His wrist snapped in my grip as he came crashing down to the floor. He slammed into the linoleum, and his forehead bounced off the ground with a wet smack. I gave him a kick in the face just to make sure he wouldn’t be getting up. It felt so good, I did it again. What can I say? If it feels good, I do it.

  “You should just go away now, unless you want to cuddle up next to your friend.” My voice was way more confident than I had expected as I smiled congenially at the other guy.

  He stared back at me in a mixture of rage and horror, and the sight of it made me get all warm and fuzzy inside. I
’m not sure why seeing his shock made me feel better, probably because he’d been beating on the girl. At least I hoped that was why. If not, I was probably not a very good person, and I was really hoping that wasn’t the case. If I wound up being some kind of dick bag, maybe I was better off forgetting my past.

  The guy snarled by way of reply and lunged at me, crossing the ten feet between us in the blink of an eye. I stepped calmly under his lunge and caught him across the throat with my right forearm. The force of the blow reverberated down my arm as I stepped around and kicked his legs out from under him while using my bodyweight to drive him into the ground.

  He collapsed flat on his back, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come as I calmly got to my feet and stepped past him. I probably should have felt bad about nearly crushing his windpipe, but I didn’t. They’d beat up a woman, and while I wasn’t sure if my mama had raised me right, I still felt pretty pleased with myself for saving the girl. If a couple of dirt bags got their asses kicked in the process, I wasn’t about to shed tears over it.

  I paused and took a deep breath on the way to the girl. Had I really just rationalized what I’d done in a rage-filled haze under the cover of chivalry? Hell, for all I knew this girl was a mass murderer, and I’d just saved her to kill again. Even if she was innocent, what right did I have to play judge, jury, and executioner? I pushed the thought out of my mind. If saving her turned out to be a problem, it was one I was okay with having.

  I spun on my heel and dropped down next to the two downed thugs and searched through their pockets, hoping to find something nefarious on their persons that would let me ignore the guilt suddenly prickling at the back of my neck. I found exactly what I was looking for. Along with about fifty bucks in cash, brute number one had a loaded 9mm Beretta pistol with one of those nifty fifteen-round magazines that was illegal in California now.

  Either these guys were holding illegal weapons or had been grandfathered in. I was pretty sure it was the former and not the latter. Either way, the weapon was mine now. Asshole tax and all. I stuffed the gun into the waistband of my khakis before making my way over to the dryer I’d pilfered earlier. I tossed the cash inside. Hopefully, whoever I’d robbed would feel a little better about it now.

  The woman was sitting up, watching me with a look on her face I couldn’t quite identify. It was part relief, part excitement, and part something dark and afraid. That look told me she hadn’t ruled out the possibility of me coming after her next.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, moving across the laundromat and offering her my left hand. I wasn’t sure if she was one of those “I don’t need a man’s help” girls. For all I knew, she’d be pissed at me for saving her when she’d totally had those thugs right where she wanted them. Still, I wasn’t going to stand there and wait for her to get up without offering. I wasn’t a jackass.

  “Yeah, thanks,” she said, and her husky voice rolled over me like velvet and rich cream, sending little shivers down my spine. The reaction startled me so much, I nearly dropped her when she grabbed my hand.

  “Don’t mention it,” I replied, straining to keep the excitement from my words as I pulled her to her feet.

  She nodded once and shook the hand she gripped, mischief in her eyes. The heat of her touch melted across me like warm butter, making my knees go weak and my breath catch in my throat. What had she done to me? How was she doing it? And could she do more?

  I tried to speak, tried to say anything at all as she released my hand and finger brushed her dark hair out of her face. Even with the busted lip, she was beautiful. Not in the ridiculous Hollywood way either. No, she was the perfect girl next door. Only, the way she looked at me, gave me the feeling that not only would my mom like her, but I’d like what she did when the two of us were all alone together.

  She was curvy, sure, and her tanned skin would be the envy of anyone, but her face was just a touch flawed. Her nose was a little too big, and her teeth were a little too crooked. Rather than mar her though, those deficiencies served to ground her beauty and make her seem real.

  “We need to get out of here before those two bozos recover.” Her full ruby red lips quirked into a smile. “Thanks for saving me.” She gave me the once over and bit her lip, letting it drag free of her white teeth. “I’m not sure how to thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” I said, shaking my head and shoving my right hand in my pocket. I’m not sure why I did it, but I didn’t want to have to go explaining why one of my arms was black as pitch.

  “I normally don’t come to this laundromat,” she said by way of an explanation I hadn’t asked for. “I normally use the one in the basement of my apartment, but it’s been on the fritz and you know how it is.” She moved over and began gathering up the spilled basket of laundry a few feet away. “They say only death and taxes are absolute, but I don’t think the people who say that have to deal with laundry and dirty dishes.”

  Before I could stop myself, I knelt down next to her and began helping her put the clothing into the basket. As I dumped a pair of socks with red racing stripes down one side into the blue plastic basket, she wrinkled her nose at me.

  “Mister, not to be rude or anything, but I just washed these, and you smell like the inside of a dumpster.” She smirked at me, her blue eyes full of humor. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t touch any of them. I really don’t want to have to wash them all over again with people like that around.” She nodded over my shoulder toward the downed thugs.

  “Fair enough,” I replied, moving back from her as heat filled my cheeks. Was I blushing? No, that was impossible. I didn’t know much about myself, but I was reasonably sure Mac Brennan didn’t blush. “I did wake up in a dumpster this morning.” I shrugged and my cheeks turned their temperature up a notch or two. The jerks.

  She stood, holding the basket of clothing to her chest and stared at me very hard. “Why did you wake up in a dumpster?” The words came out of her mouth slowly, like she had weighed the question and wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know the answer.

  “I’m not sure.” I looked at my shoes because they were suddenly very interesting. I’d missed a spot of blood on my right toe or gathered a new one. I kicked at it with my left shoe, trying half-heartedly to smudge it off before I stopped suddenly, not wanting to draw her eyes to it. “I have no memory. The only thing I know is my name.”

  “I can’t imagine what that’s like,” she replied, and I couldn’t quite understand the tone of her voice. It almost seemed like she was questioning what I’d said. To be fair, I wasn’t exactly a reliable source and my story was ridiculous. I mean, how many people wake up in dumpsters with no memory and crazy kung fu skills?

  “It sucks because I’m sure I was supposed to be doing something. I have this feeling something important is slipping through my fingers with each passing second.” I let out a slow breath.

  “Have you tried going to the police?” she asked, taking a step backward away from me. At first I thought she might be afraid of me, but as I stared into her eyes, I questioned that assessment. It seemed less like she was afraid of me and more like she just wanted to go. It made sense. She likely had things to do.

  “Not as of yet.” I glanced back at the thugs. Neither of them were moving. Good. The last thing I wanted was for them to get up and force me to knock them out again. “As silly as it is, I’ve been trying to clean myself up since I woke up in a dumpster.” I tugged on the waistband of my pilfered khakis trying to pull them up a little bit. It was no use, they were still dragging on the ground. They’d do for now, but eventually I was going to wear holes in them. I had half a mind to roll them up, but then I’d look like the big box store version of Huck Finn wearing loafers. No, that wasn’t happening.

  “I know I’m going to regret this,” she whispered like she was talking to herself before meeting my eyes with her own, and for a second I got the feeling she was trying to read my thoughts. “But would you like to come back to my place and shower? Then I can drop yo
u off at the police station.”

  “I don’t think I can accept that,” I said as she turned and sashayed toward the exit. I felt almost guilty for bothering her. Okay, I lied, I felt really guilty. Maybe I didn’t need to go with her, maybe I shouldn’t get her involved at all? I did have a strange devil arm, after all, and she seemed too nice to involve in that weirdness. Besides, I likely just had to do a Google search on my name, and I’d find my social network profile. If not, there was always the phone book. How many Mac Brennans could there possibly be? While that might only give me a phone number and address, it likely wouldn’t take long to track them all down. Surely one would be me.

  “Then don’t come,” she replied, a smirk in her voice. “Continue standing there smelling like last week’s garbage.”

  “Wait,” I said, calling out to her as she shoved open the door and disappeared through it without so much as a backward glance. Without thinking, I sprinted across the room and pushed through the door. She was only a few feet away. She shot furtive glances in both directions, reminding me of a mouse searching for cats. Satisfied no one was coming, she crossed the parking lot so quickly her white running shoes were practically a blur on the asphalt.

  “Lady, stop, please. I accept your offer,” I yelled, and this time her shoulders stiffened. She’d clearly heard me, but other than that small reaction, she didn’t acknowledge me as she approached a beat up red Dodge Neon. She unlocked it and put the basket on the roof of the car before turning to me.

  “Okay,” she said and that scared look flashed through her eyes for a second. It made me feel like a jerk for accepting her offer, and if I’d had any other plan, I’d have turned around and walked away. The only problem was, I had nowhere to go, and her offering me a shower and a ride to the police station sounded infinitely better than wandering around a town I didn’t remember.

  “Thank you,” I said, allowing my gratitude to flood into my voice. “I really appreciate it.”