Read Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy) Online
Authors: Chris A. Jackson
Weapon of Vengeance (Weapon of Flesh Trilogy)
This
book is dedicated to all the people who have written a review, sent me a
message, posted a response, or walked up to me at a convention just to say
thank you.
You motivate
me…
Thanks
again to Noah Stacey for excellent cover art, and to my ever-tolerant wife Anne
for her editorial input, and for not bonking me on the head and rolling me into
the ocean for perfectly valid reasons.
Weapon
of Vengeance
Weapon
of Flesh Trilogy
Book 3
Chris A.
Jackson
Kindle
edition
7.26.14
Book 3 of
the Weapon of Flesh Trilogy,
Weapon
of Vengeance
continues the story of Lad, a man crafted of magic and flesh to
be the most lethal assassin the world has ever known.
A weapon bereft…
Guilt wracked and vengeful, Lad
scours Twailin for the killer who destroyed his life. With the Assassins Guild
at his beck and call, the search should be straightforward. However, cryptic
clues lead to one dead end after another, thwarting his obsession.
Forced to trust a traitor and
keep secrets from those closest to him, Lad’s only hope is to find Kiesha, a
woman caught between worlds. Is she a thief, an assassin, or a pawn of the
very powers that control the Empire? Unfortunately, Lad’s not the only one
hunting her.
When summoned by the Grandmaster,
Lad must face hard questions. Dare he continue his investigation and risk the enmity
of the man who can spend his life on a whim? Can he trust Mya’s offer of help,
or will she betray him to ensure her own safety? And the most difficult question:
Will vengeance truly bring solace?
Copyright 2014 Chris A. Jackson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any
means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, except for
brief quotations in printed reviews—without prior permission from the author.
Cover Image Copyright 2014
Jaxbooks
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H
oseph
waited in darkness, as patient as death itself.
Death
. Though most feared
it, Hoseph did not. He knew death, and even embraced it as a tenet of his
faith. Death was his constant companion.
The Right Hand of Death
.
He smiled at his little conceit, but there was no
denying its aptness in describing his dual roles. In his devotion to Demia,
Keeper of the Slain, Hoseph ushered troubled souls from life to their duly
earned hereafter. In return, Demia conferred upon him her divine gifts. She
had given him much, and he reveled in her cold grace. His fingers caressed the
smooth curves of the small silver skull—her talisman—hidden within the sleeve
of his robe, and felt the cool energy awaiting his command.
Hoseph liked to think that his goddess was pleased
with his second calling as well. As the right hand of the Grandmaster of the Assassins
Guild, he ushered many souls into Demia’s keeping. Not personally, as a general
rule, but in the performance of his duties: advising, strategizing, and passing
on the Grandmaster’s orders. His role also maintained the guild’s most
carefully coveted secret. Few knew that the Grandmaster of the Assassins Guild
and Emperor Tynean Tsing II were the same man.
A latch clicked, and lamplight scythed through the
room as the door swung open. An elegantly dressed man bearing a lamp entered and
closed the door behind him.
Hoseph’s wait was over.
“Good evening Baron.”
Baron Eusteus Patino started only slightly, not
because he didn’t fear death, but because he was ignorant that he stood in its
presence. Patino knew nothing of the Assassins Guild. He thought his visitor merely
the emperor’s messenger, and was used to Hoseph’s unannounced arrivals. The
baron turned toward the shadowed corner where the priest sat, and inclined his
head in greeting.
“Good evening, Hoseph.” Patino placed the lamp on the
sideboard. The golden light gleamed off the highly polished wood and scattered
though the crystal decanters. “I was about to pour myself a brandy. I’d offer
you one, but I recall that you don’t partake.”
“Your memory is accurate, Baron.” Hoseph stood, the
hem of his robes brushing the priceless silk rug beneath his feet. Baron
Patino loved his luxuries and had the means to support his penchant. But what
he loved more was prestige, the honor and esteem that came from a noble title.
And though being a baron was good, being a count would be better. That
yearning for advancement had made it simple for Hoseph to recruit him.
That,
and his misguided sense of intrigue.
“I received your summons. Please
tell me that the news is good.”
“The news is excellent.” The lip of the decanter
struck a musical note on the edge of the snifter as the baron poured. He
swirled the liquor in the glass, poised his nose above the rim, and inhaled
deeply. Sighing with pleasure, he sipped before continuing. “I received an
interim report from Master Hensen.” He withdrew a folded letter from the
inside pocket of his smoking jacket and handed it over. “The two people he was
contracted to protect are alive and well, and he believes that the most
prominent threat to their lives is ended.”
“That
is
excellent news. The emperor will be
pleased.” Hoseph scanned the letter.
Though relieved that Mya and her bodyguard were still
alive—he had worried that the unanticipated contact meant bad news—he wondered
what had precipitated the early report. Unfortunately, the letter did not
elaborate. Hoseph longed for details. What had happened to end the threat? Patino
knew nothing, of course. The baron was nothing but a go-between. Hoseph
needed to go to the source.
He tucked the letter away and bowed to the baron.
“You’ve performed admirably, Baron. Your service to the empire is noted.”
“Just doing my duty. Please give His Majesty my
warmest regards.” Patino smiled and raised his glass in toast.
“Of course.” Hoseph nodded politely; he would
certainly give the emperor Patino’s regards. The baron was a perfect
operative: loyal, competent, ignorant, and easy to manipulate with a few words
of gratitude from on high.
Retrieving the silver skull from his sleeve, he
murmured the invocation that called on Demia’s power. Tendrils of her divine
essence flowed from the talisman, as dark and cold as death itself, to embraced
and consumed him. The baron, the study, the very world faded around him.
Hoseph blinked and opened his eyes onto an ethereal realm
of lost souls, banished demons, and vanquished godlings. This was not a world,
plane of existence, or even a place, really. Wizards, priests, and metaphysicists
had hypothesized that it might be the fabric that bound the universe together,
and had coined the name “sphere of shadows,” which Hoseph though a misnomer.
There were no shadows, for there was no light. Hoseph perceived his immediate
surroundings as veils of vaporous essence, black and gray wisps swirling as if
blown by unfelt winds. There were no sounds, no odors, or even air to
breathe. Only Demia’s grace allowed him to survive here, and to use the sphere
as a conduit between points on his own world.
Picturing in his mind the destination he desired, the
priest once again invoked his goddess’ power. The sphere of shadow faded, and Hoseph
materialized in a bedroom. Small and stark, only a few signs of femininity indicated
that it was a lady’s room, though nothing hinted at the owner’s true nature.
He quirked a thin smile; this was exactly where he wished to be.
Unfortunately, Kiesha wasn’t there.
Patience
…
Hoseph moved the only available chair to the corner
out of view of the door, sat, and let his mind sort through the details he
needed from her.
In time he heard voices outside bidding one another
good night. The door opened and Kiesha walked in with a rustle of silk
brocade, lace, and ruffles. Unaware of him, she closed the door and leaned back
against it, her knuckles white on the latch. With a quick, sharp breath and a shake
of her head, she took three quick steps to the clothespress, wrenching at the
laces of her dress.
“Before you disrobe, I would like to speak with
you.”
Kiesha froze at the sound of his voice, but didn’t
turn. Unlike the baron, she knew he was the emissary of the Grandmaster of
Assassins. She had no idea that Hoseph’s master was also the Emperor of Tsing,
of course, and never would.
After a brief hesitation, she resumed working on the
laces, her tone impatient. “Speak quickly then. I’ve been in a corset for
twelve hours, and I intend to remove it.”
Hoseph regarded Kiesha as she loosened the laces, shrugged
the gown off her shoulders, and pushed the voluminous garment down over her
hips. The dress landed in a frothy pile. She stepped out of it and started on
the laces of her corset. Long ago, Hoseph might have been moved by such a
brazen display, but years of devotion to Demia had stripped away such
distracting desires.
“You can’t embarrass me, child. I came here for information
on the report sent to Baron Patino, and I will have it.”
“The report?” She turned to face him, her eyes wide
with surprise. “Hensen only sent it this morning. Patino contacted you
already?”
“Obviously. I know that Mya and her bodyguard are
alive, but I need details. Exactly
how
was the threat to their lives
ended?”
“You want details?” Kiesha squirmed out of her
corset and heaved a breath as if it was the first she’d taken that day. A
disdainful kick sent the garment skittering across the floor in the general
direction of the dresser. Grabbing a robe from the clothespress, she pulled it
on and turned toward him, her blue eyes blazing. “Fine. The four other
masters are dead. How’s
that
for a detail?”
Hoseph frowned.
Defiance
? Kiesha’s reports
were usually calm, succinct, and to the point, so her vitriolic response came
as a shock. She was an invaluable operative, perfectly positioned to glean
information from the Assassins Guild’s principal rivals. It would be a pity if
she developed a dangerous attitude.
“Explain how that occurred, please,” he ordered.
“From the beginning.”
She sighed and sat on the corner of the bed, undoing
her coif as she spoke. “I convinced Hensen to assign me to watch over Mya and her
bodyguard, as you suggested, and learned that the masters had banded together
against her.”
“Did they discover that she was having a new
guildmaster ring crafted?”
“No.” Kiesha looked annoyed at the interruption.
“They
discovered
that she never destroyed the previous ring.”
“She what?”
“The masters thought she wore it. That it was
protecting her against their assassination attempts. So they took another
route and tried to kill her bodyguard. I thwarted that attempt.”
“How?”
“I killed the assassin they sent after him.” She
said it matter-of-factly. “It was close, but he didn’t see me.”
“Good.”
She glared at him. “I thought so too, until the
masters decided to turn him against Mya.”
“And how did they do that? He’s under her control.”
“If you let me
explain
…” Kiesha pursed her
lips and tossed her hairpins onto her night table.
“Please do.”
So acerbic
. She was definitely
in a mood. What had provoked her?
“The masters learned that he can disobey her. They
wanted him to kill Mya, since he’s signed no blood contract and the ring wouldn’t
stop him, but apparently his inherent magic prevented him from killing her
outright.”
Hoseph huffed a wry laugh. “Yes, Saliez had a
restraint worked into the weapon’s magic to prevent it from turning against its
master.”
Kiesha’s eyes narrowed. “The weapon’s
name
is Lad. The masters kidnapped his daughter and offered to exchange her for Mya.
Unfortunately for them, the plan blew up in their faces.”
Hoseph gaped at her. “His
daughter
?
Saliez’s weapon has a daughter?”
“A family.” Her piercing blue eyes smoldered. “If
I had a way to
contact
you, I’d have been able to tell you.”
Hoseph ignored her snide comment. He was having
enough difficulty accepting the notion of a weapon of magic and flesh having a
family. The animal instinct to procreate, perhaps?
“How can that be?”
“Lad’s apparently…more than we believed him to be.”
She looked away, her voice faltering.
Ahhh, Kiesha, is that the crux of
your anxiety
?
Have
you developed empathy for this…Lad
? “So, did he deliver Mya to them?”
“Yes.” Kiesha shrugged and met his eyes again. “But
it was a ruse. Her bonds were false. When the masters tried to double cross him,
Lad and Mya attacked. The fight was…” Kiesha swallowed. “I’ve never seen
anyone move like that. I did what I could to protect them. When it was over,
the four masters were dead and their surviving guards had fled.”
Hoseph considered the ramifications. Not entirely
bad, actually. It meant that Mya could start with a clean slate, appointing
her own faction masters, and not have to deal with hostile subordinates who would
fight her every initiative.
Hoseph chuckled. “So, Mya wore the guildmaster’s
ring and couldn’t be harmed.”
“She
didn’t
wear it.”
“What? How did she survive?”
“She survived because you told me to keep her
alive.” Kiesha’s eyes blazed with indignation for a moment. “I killed anyone
who got close to her. Lad’s
wife
wore the ring. She came to the
exchange with Lad. It was part of the ruse. She used its protection to get
their child away from the fighting.”
Hoseph frowned again. “So, the wife wears the
guildmaster’s ring?”
“She
wore
it, I said.” Kiesha’s lips pressed
into a line. “You made it clear that the Grandmaster wanted Mya to be
guildmaster, so I…killed Lad’s wife.”