Seized: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Thrice Cursed Mage Book 4) by J.A. Cipriano Read Free Book Online Page A

gesturing at the wall of expensive whiskeys behind her. “Some of these cost upwards of a hundred bucks a shot. We want to make sure our guests get exactly what they pay for.” She flashed her dentists’ wet dream of a smile at me. “No one likes to feel like they’re getting cheated.”
    “Fair enough,” I said, smirking as a sudden thought occurred to me. I wasn’t going to pay the tab. Vassago was, and he was a douchebag demon. “What’s the most expensive thing you have back there?”
    She responded, but I didn’t hear her response over the explosion that shook the room like an earthquake. I spun toward the entrance as my barstool went out from under me, landing flat on my back. As I scrambled to my feet, trying my best not to cry over spilled alcohol because it was only Knob Creek, another explosion rocked the store.
    I grabbed onto the bar for stability as thousands of dollars’ worth of alcohol fell off the glass shelves and shattered across the slate floor. Well, that’d be something to cry about. The scent of whiskey hit my nose like a fist, and while I normally liked the smell, this was way too much for me.
    Suppressing the urge to gag, I glanced around for any obvious sources of the explosion even though I was pretty sure it’d come from somewhere outside the bar. Satisfied nothing in here was going to burst into flames, I hazarded a glance at the bartender.
    She was leaning forward over the bar, unconscious. Blood dripped from a cut on her head, and as I reached forward to see if she was okay, a shotgun-toting nun walked by the entrance. She seemed surprised to see me, so I guess the feeling was mutual. As she turned to bring the gun to bear, I snagged an empty glass off the bar and hurled it at her.
    The heavy tumbler hit her square in the forehead. Her shotgun went off anyway, tearing a hole in the ceiling above me instead of through my torso. Not wanting to give her another shot at perforating me with buckshot, I dove forward, tackling her to the ground.
    The back of the nun’s head smacked against the slate floor moments before my entire weight drove the breath from her lungs. I decked her once for good measure, smashing her nose into a bloody mess before wrenching the shotgun from her stunned grip. I turned the weapon on her, and as I did, she kicked me in the knee.
    I wasn’t sure what her plan had been because her attack misdirected my blast. I’d been aiming at her chest, but the blow had wound up making my arms swing up while I’d depressed the trigger. It wound up making me shoot her in the face with the shotgun. Needless to say, as I toppled painfully to the ground beside her, she was too busy being dead to capitalize on it.
    While I was glad she was dead, I was starting to worry our little gunfight might make reinforcements show up. It was time to get out of here before that happened.
    Trying to ignore the pain radiating from my kneecap, I racked another shell before getting to my feet. I moved to the dead nun’s side and pulled the bandolier full of shotgun shells from her bloody corpse. I stared at the bandolier in annoyance mostly because it was covered in blood, and I was wearing a nice new suit. Then again, I was still wearing my old trench coat.
    Another explosion rocked the building. I wasn’t sure what they were assaulting Le Château de Tissu Extraordinaire with, but as I knew from experience, a tank wouldn’t be out of the question. Hopefully, I could get out of here before they reduced the clothing store to rubble.
    If I didn’t, I was going to have a hell of a time rescuing those kids. I wasn’t sure how the Sisters of the Black Flame had found us, but I was guessing the answer had to do with the van we’d stolen. I knew that had been a stupid play. We should have ditched it at the first opportunity, not brought it with us. Fucking Amateurs.
    “You people suck,” I said throwing the bandolier over one shoulder. I looked like a cross between Rambo and Neo, but at