Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) by Jonathan Michael (best ebook for manga txt) 📕

leaning against the opposite wall.  They don’t even take notice of Philemon lying dead in a pool of blood.

Natan grabs the back of my neck and aggressively forces himself on me. He lifts me and slams me against the wall. I enjoy every moment of it, stealing his pleasure for my own selfish desires.

When he loses stimulation, he calls on his next companion. Natan bends over to pull up his trousers, and I sweep my kukri from my boot and emancipate him from his manhood from behind. He falls to the ground, motionless, bleeding profusely. Not dead, just in shock.

“Why?” the approaching man exclaims.

He tries to disarm me, and I fend off his attack easily, piercing his gut with my small blade. A crashing noise sounds off in the dark alley. Jaymes is rushing out of the darkness in her hooded cloak. This startles the remaining onlooker. Two men against one murderous woman is a challenge he can handle. Two men against a murderous woman and an unknown dark figure lurking in the alley is something different. He runs for the back entrance, swings open the door, and calls for help. Jaymes slices his throat in the open entrance to The Jack Rose.

She has forced my hand and created a massacre. It is no sweat for me, but she will not swallow this one well. It’s too soon.

Jaymes staggers back from the door, still propped open from the lifeless body. Several men recklessly come sprawling out, each a hero in their own mind—a flesh-bag of waste in mine. I’m wishing I were equipped with my claymore, Bright Shadow, about now. But I will take care of it all the same. The mob sprints toward me in a rage. One by one, I slash throats, puncture ribs, and pierce skulls as they heedlessly bombard me. More than a half-dozen men lie on the ground when I’m finished, and I look up to see Jaymes wisp away into The Jack Rose. She’s attempting to redeem herself by removing the witnesses.

I chase after her and find she has already killed an entire table of onlookers. I whip out my fukiya from my boot and start firing tipped darts throughout the room. Bystanders drop rapidly, some so drunk they are clueless about what is happening around them. Together, we murder everyone in the bar within moments. Jaymes hurdles the bar and is about to take out Jack. I sling my kukri in her direction, and it pierces her shoulder. She halts in her tracks, grabbing her arm, and glares at me.

“Not him.”

Jack, whether out of fear or anger, disappears into the back room without a word. I presume both. He’s not going to agree to my return after this. He may never have another customer for me to return to.

“Your stealth must improve if you are to assassinate the Taoiseach!” I demand of Jaymes.

Jaymes’s lips move, and an ungodly sound comes from her mouth, but not words. Her two-tipped snake-like nub of a tongue won’t allow such.

“Enough! Why do you even try? When you prove yourself worthy, we’ll get that tongue to grow back. With your performance tonight, I don’t believe that time will ever come.” Her eyes hang low, but she stands attentively. Obediently waiting to be disciplined. “Why did you even come here? It’s not the spying that bothers me. It’s your reckless behavior. Unless the Taoiseach himself has directed this, you have no business here. You have made a disaster out of an evening of pleasure.” Jaymes winces at the last few words. She doesn’t understand my dark heart. There is only one who ever will. I attempt to dissolve her confusion, regardless.

“I’m not a murderer, you know. I’m a vigilante. These men are scum, and it is a means to subdue my lust for blood. I’ve told you before, my heart is beyond repair, and death is a part of me. It is my calling. Whether you make it your calling is up to you, but I don’t recommend it. Not this.” I raise a leg onto the nearest stool to sheath my kukri and slip my fukiya back into my boot. “You’ve done well tonight in terms of killing. It is coming easier to you. As a Shadow, you must be able to do it. But you need not lust for it as I do.” I pause, wondering whether I lecture further. I do. “And if the Taoiseach is your ultimate goal, you are failing. This is not good enough.” I wave an arm about the room. Blood has replaced lust throughout the lounge.

Her head tilts upward, and I see the white of her eyes from beneath her hooded cloak. They are fearful. Distressed. Ambitious.

“I presume you wonder why I tolerate the idea of assassinating the Taoiseach. I have no desire to share my motives with you, but to be blunt—because that is the best way to speak—I don’t think you can do it. You will never succeed. Anything short of decapitation in his sleep will not work. And even that may not kill him. You’ll have to figure it out on your own. But first, you must improve your skills. Your talent is unmistakably great, but it is nothing if your skills can’t take you the rest of the way. You’d be dead tonight if I were the Taoiseach. Dead!” I belittle her with my eyes, but she doesn’t dare make direct eye contact. “You will clean this mess up, since you were so eager to participate in this evening’s extracurricular activities. You will leave no evidence.”

This new leader cares nothing for knowledge. He is young. His instincts are lacking, and he doesn’t listen. He has torn us apart. And it is a blessing. Now, we start anew.

36 Goose

A score of sunrises passes, and each morning is not much different than the preceding one. I awake