Marked: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Thrice Cursed Mage Book 2) Read Free Page A

elves took turns smashing numbers into my brain.
    “I did write it down. I just did it on your brain so you wouldn’t have some excuse later like you forgot it,” he replied before flipping me the bird and straight up vanishing from sight. The only trace he’d ever been there was a pair of molten footprints in the cement. I swallowed hard. Had he been a demon like Vassago? Or another Cursed? I’d seen both of them pull off a similar trick. Something about him made me think he might actually be a demon, and that wasn’t just because I sort of remembered a Cursed kicking my teeth in when my sister had been kidnapped. It was more because the guy had given me the creeps in that same icy water down the neck way Vassago had. Well, this was just great. Apparently, I had caught the attention of another demon. Today was fixing to go swimmingly.
    I had half a second to let that thought roll around in my head as I climbed to my feet. The moment I was standing, time seemed to explode forward all around me. The Chevy Tahoe broke free of the tent in a squeal of burning rubber as the assailants let loose a flurry of bullets in my general direction.
     

Chapter 3
    My arm went up instinctively to shield my body as the word, “Tueri,” burst from my lips. Red light spilled down around my body, forming a translucent shield over my delicate flesh just before a horde of angry bullets slammed into me. Thankfully, the bullets broke apart with little flares of star fire instead of reducing me to Swiss cheese. A guttural cry of anguish exploded from my throat. Each and every one felt like I’d been hit by a Roger Clemens’ fastball.
    As I stepped off the curb, a spray of bullets caught me in the back of the left knee. My leg shot out from under me. My arms windmilled as I tried to regain my balance. Unfortunately, my right heel took this wonderful opportunity to slip off the sidewalk. I fell backward onto the cement, and my skull rebounded off the sidewalk like a basketball. Everything went dark and spotty around the edges. Well, screw this. Getting shot was no fun, even with a magical shield.
    As bullets ricocheted off the cement around me, I rolled off the sidewalk and into the street. Already I could see several men running toward me, firing their MP5s in quick bursts as they went. Definitely professionals. It made me wonder why they’d driven into the swap meet instead of perforating me from outside. It didn’t make sense unless they were trying to drive me back outside before unleashing their weapons.
    Before I could answer that question, my spider sense went absolutely berserk. I tore my gaze from the machinegun-toting assassins and found myself staring into the grill of a black Humvee as it barreled toward me going well past the speed limit. It was so close, I could see the bald driver smiling at me over the wheel as a little hula dancer bobbed and weaved on the dashboard. They’d tricked me, chasing me into the path of the vehicle. Dicks.
    I cried out in rage and frustration as I threw my arm out in a pathetic attempt to block the oncoming Humvee. The vehicle slammed into me an eye blink later and crumpled around my outstretched arm in slow motion like I was Superman. Time seemed to slow down as my feet skidded backward across the asphalt. Then everything went sideways. The light clinging to me flickered and went out, and I was flung backward under the force of the impact. I landed some thirty feet away, flat on my back. The horrible smell of gasoline and smoke filled my nose as the glow surrounding me faded completely. That wasn’t good.
    No one was shooting at me, which was awesome because I was suddenly so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. The taste of blood filled my mouth as I tried to get to my feet, but it felt like my legs were made from Jell-O. The ground swam underneath me as I stumbled away from the ruined vehicle. Some of my attackers had broken off, rushing toward the vehicle, probably to try to pull their