DEATH (The Justice Cycle Book 1) by J Kiefer (best novels in english TXT) 📕

His foot struck the wayward spear of one of the dead guards; he stumbled and fell. He hit the ground hard, knocking the breath from his chest. He could not breathe, but choked on the blood flowing up from his damaged lungs. He struggled to rise but found that his arms no longer held strength. He was dying. So close! He was almost to the room of his youngest son. Please, just a few more feet!

He could hold back the tears no longer, and he wept, coughing and spitting up blood.

It was too late now. Death would take him. He had failed them, failed them all. So close yet not close enough. He closed his eyes in resignation and relinquished himself to death’s icy grip.

As he slowly slipped into unconsciousness, he was sure he could hear death’s mocking laughter. It came to him softly as if he was hearing it in a dream. Then a scream snapped him back from the paths of death. He surged back into awareness as another scream split the air around him. He knew that scream as any father would. It was the cry of his sixteen-year-old daughter, Jade.

He bellowed and, with a strength born of desperation, lifted himself off the ground. The laughter he’d heard had come from the intruder who’d slain his men. It stopped when he’d shouted, and his daughter cried out instead.

“Otōsan!”

He pushed past the door. Light flooded into the dark room, revealing a man cloaked all in black and hooded standing over the still body of his youngest son, Yashimi. He held a blood-streaked katana in his hand. Jade cradled her brother, her arms hacked to ribbons and one hand severed at the wrist. She had thrown herself over her younger brother in a desperate attempt to protect him.

The Ninja glared at the wounded man. “Are you still alive? Shogun, you surprise me with your resilience. You are as hard to kill as a cockroach. No matter. You are mortally wounded and no match for me.” He turned back to look at Jade. “When I am through with your pathetic excuse of a father, I will return to finish with—”

The Shogun leapt, swinging his sword downward in a vicious chop. The Ninja put up his own sword to parry the strike, but to his surprise, the Shogun’s blade went completely through his own and cut deeply into his chest. Metal clanged as his sword broke at the hilt and clattered to the floor.

Confused, the Ninja managed to gurgle, “How?”

The Shogun growled and thrust his sword forward until half of it was sticking through the assassin’s back. The Ninja coughed and spat blood as he tried to scream. The Shogun yanked the blade out and then, with a heart-wrenching scream, hacked the injured assassin to death. That did not slake the Shogun’s wrath, however, and he continued striking the lifeless body until all of his rage had been spent.

When he was finished, he painfully stood and faced his children. Gasping for breath, the Shogun could barely stand. Blood and gore covered his armor from head to toe, making him look more like a demon than a man.

His daughter hunched over her brother, bleeding, pale, unmoving. His rage now spent, he fell to his knees. He crawled over to her and held her in his lap. She still breathed, just barely, so he brushed the damp hair from her face and kissed her brow. Her warm brown eyes opened.

When he looked into her eyes, he did not see the young woman she had become but the little girl she had been. “It’s okay now, Jade. Daddy is here,” he said through his tears.

“Daddy?” she asked weakly. “I tried to save Yashimi, but I could not.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, and it broke his heart.

“No. No. My little bear, you did well. Your brother only sleeps. It was all just a bad dream. All is well now, my little one. Go to sleep, and everything will be fine when you wake. You will see. Tomorrow you will run together in the mountains you two love so much.”

His daughter went limp in his arms, and he wept hard, painful tears. He pulled her close to his chest and buried his head in her hair, rocking her still form.

“I love you, my little bear.”

Dana awoke, tears streaming down her cheeks. This was the third time tonight she had had the same dream, and on every occasion, she awoke weeping violently. Each time the dream became more and more vivid. What did it all mean? Nothing like this had ever happened to her before.

She was covered in sweat, her covers kicked off the bed. She sat up with her head in her hands. What was happening to her? Was she losing her mind? The dreams were so vivid, it was as if she was reliving lost memories. But whose memories were they? They certainly weren’t hers. If she believed in reincarnation, she would attribute them to past lives, but she was a Christian and Christians did not believe in such New Age philosophies.

“Get yourself together, girl.” She ran her hands down her face. “There has to be a logical explanation for this.”

She was exhausted, almost as if she had just run a marathon. She hoped that this would be the last time tonight she would have the dream. She needed to get at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep before work in the morning. Which was… She looked over at the clock and groaned. Five twenty-nine a.m., almost time to get ready for work. Five thirty. The alarm clicked on and chirped. She groaned again and slammed her hand down hard on the alarm clock, hitting the snooze button.

But, no. If she fell back to sleep again, it would do her more harm than good. So she got up and started the day. At least she’d have time to make coffee before she had to take