Read Online Cursed: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Thrice Cursed Mage Book 1) by J. A. Cipriano - Free Book Online Page B

assuming was named Sera, puckered her lips like she’d just sucked on a lemon. “Can it, vampire. When I want your opinion, I’ll pull out your tongue and smack it against the bar.” She slapped the oak with one hand for emphasis. “Whatever sound it makes will doubtless be smarter than the shit you’re spewing now.”
    Laughter filled the back of the room, and I suddenly got the feeling I was standing in the middle of a family squabble. That was a little crazy because she’d called the Indian a vampire. The sad thing was, I didn’t know if she was joking or not. I mean, I’d just fought werewolves, why couldn’t vampires be real?
    “So what do you want me to do? Make a tea? That might help him with his memories,” the old guy, Duane said, turning his back to me and moving toward Sera with quick, purposeful steps. Without warning, he reached across the bar and snatched up her hand. “I could go talk to Ricky. We go back a ways. Could have a talk about how the pups are acting. They might back off.”
    “We both know they wouldn’t be bugging me without their alpha’s express permission.” Sera let out another sigh, and I was starting to think she might be able to medal in sighing if it were an Olympic sport. “No, Ricky is definitely putting them up to this. I just don’t understand why the wolves are working with the Stars and Moons. Ricky’s never been one to involve the pack in human business before.”
    “Whoa, let’s all hold up a second and tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help. As it stands, I’m barely following your conversation, and that’s no good for me,” I said, sliding onto a red stool with the name Biff written on it. To be honest, I wasn’t sure why I’d offered to help. Everything inside of me was screaming at me to get them back on track with the whole magic memory tea thing. That was the selfish part of me though, and something told me if I started listening to that part of myself, I wouldn’t last long in a world I was woefully unprepared to face.
    I snatched my whiskey off the bar as their eyes turned to me. I ignored the heat of their stares and tossed back the liquor in one quick swallow. The liquid burned the back of my throat in a way that was both familiar and comfortable despite the drink being three parts paint thinner and one part horse piss. Whatever this stuff was, it had been set here as a test. I wasn’t sure if I passed or not, but since I didn’t wind up spitting it across the bar, I was giving myself seventy-thirty odds.
    “You don’t even have a memory,” Sera replied, giving me a long, appraising look. “You might think you’re tough because you beat up some wolves, but Ricky, the alpha, is another story. Werewolves aren’t the sort of things you piss off unless you’re packing serious heat and have a death wish.”
    She had a valid point, but I never let little things like being sensible stop me. At least, I didn’t think I did. The werewolf I’d fought before had been scary, so much so, that I wasn’t sure how I’d won. That said, I had the distinct feeling I could beat them. I wasn’t sure why, but I knew, just knew, if I put my mind to it, I could stop the werewolves from attacking her.
    I tilted the bottle to my glass and refilled it, making sure I doubled what Duane had poured for me. Then, like I was a badass who didn’t actually like to taste things, I swallowed the contents in one gulp. It made me a little sad because I would have liked to sip the whiskey, but this stuff was probably used to fuel jets. It didn’t want to be tasted, and besides, that was hardly the point. It must have worked because Duane nodded approvingly.
    “You see these marks?” I pulled up my right sleeve, revealing my black, tattooed arm. “They mean I’m a bad ass. So why don’t you let me in on why the wolves are really after you.”
    “You don’t know that for sure. For all you know, the demon you talked to is some low level imp. Besides, we’re