DEATH (The Justice Cycle Book 1) by J Kiefer (best classic books to read TXT) 📗

Even though he had managed to fend off the blow that surely would have removed his head from his body, the force of it sent him sprawling hard into a concrete wall. The wall cracked; cement particles rained down on the Musketeer’s head.

He rose to his feet, removed his large-brimmed hat, and brushed off the debris. “I was wondering when you would show up, mon ami.”

Nonchalantly he replaced the hat. The entire alley was bathed in a fierce glow that emanated from the blade of his assailant. The very dangerous Sanctuary stood at the mouth of the alley with his weapons at the ready, blocking his retreat.

The angel growled and raised his sword to strike again, but this time the Musketeer was ready for him. The Musketeer was lithe, and he moved with frightening supernatural speed. He was on the angel before he even had time to react. His blade was thin and quick. But despite the fact that Sanctuary’s blade was large and clumsy, he still managed to deflect each well-placed rapier strike.

Sparks of arcane energy and tongues of supernatural flames exploded with each blow, showering the small alleyway with color. The Musketeer jumped over a low swing from Sanctuary’s fiery blade and ran along the wall, his body horizontal with the ground. He leaped over another fierce cut from Sanctuary and landed behind the warrior. He thrust his rapier forward, attempting to drive it through the angel’s exposed back, but Sanctuary was already one step ahead of him, and bent backward, his back nearly reaching the ground, and batted the blade away.

The Musketeer used the energy of the parry to send himself into a full cartwheel, and with catlike reflexes, he flew into a backflip to evade yet another strike from Sanctuary. As he flew past the overextended angel, the Musketeer managed to strike a glancing blow to the warrior’s exposed head. It was not a killing blow, but it did knock him off balance.

That was all the opening the Musketeer needed. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he brought his rapier down in a wicked slash that struck Sanctuary in the back. The angel staggered from the strength of the blow and fell forward. Sanctuary, however, was a skilled and experienced warrior, and he used the momentum from the force of the blow to send him into a forward roll. The maneuver took him far enough away from the Musketeer’s second strike, that it whistled passed him, just barely missing his neck.

Sanctuary ended his roll too close to one of the building’s walls. He tried to slow his momentum but slammed into it harder than he would have liked. He grunted in pain, but none of the wounds he had suffered were life-threatening. The Musketeer did not move to press his attack but stood a few paces away, his blade at the ready.

“Are you done, monsieur?” he asked. “I will admit this little diversion was fun, but we both know it will only end in a stalemate.”

Sanctuary glowered up at him but knew what the Musketeer said was true. He might be able to hinder him, but even at his full power, Sanctuary doubted he could kill him. Likewise, the Musketeer could not completely destroy him. Even so, he needed to know what the Musketeer was doing here. If he had killed the new bearer before he had a chance to bond with the sword, then he needed to know. He himself could not wield Tzedakah, but he needed to make sure that it was not hindered or imprisoned by the Musketeer.

Sanctuary staggered to his feet and braced himself against the wall. “Why are you here, Renault?”

The Musketeer raised one eyebrow. “I always wanted to see the great city of New York, so I decided to come here on, how you say, holiday. Why, would you like to show me the sights?”

“Don’t mock me, dog! I know why you are here in the city, but what I don’t know is if you killed the man who died here last night.”

“Ah.” The Musketeer smirked. “Do you mean Tzedakah’s new bearer? No, angel, I did not. I did follow him here, but I was merely curious, that is all.”

“Don’t toy with me, faithless one,” he spat back. “I know you are here for more than just curiosity. Where is Tzedakah and his new bearer?”

At the mention of the name, the Musketeer’s sword blazed angrily, and he hissed in disgust. “I have no idea where it is, and at this current moment, I don’t care. You are worried that I came here to kill the little bastard, but what fun is there in that? I like a challenge and killing a fledgling bearer would be as much sport as, how you say, hunting fish in a barrel.”

Sanctuary drew himself up to his full height, glowing in intensity. “If you are lying to me, I will rip you apart right here and now.”

The Musketeer sighed and shook his head. “You have not changed in the hundreds of years I have known you, mon ami. You are still all intensity and fire. Let me give you a word of advice. You should try to enjoy what you do. Well, if that is possible for a being such as you. Perhaps He will not let you have fun. No joy, only duty for the ever-vigilant angel.”

Sanctuary growled at the blasphemous statement, but he managed to somehow keep his cool. “Sorry if my idea of pleasure is not murdering women and children.”

“To each his own,” the Musketeer replied, not missing a beat. “Well, this has been enjoyable, but I must bid you adieu.”

He turned away from Sanctuary and walked toward a nearby shadow cast by a large tree. As soon as he reached the darkness, he began to melt into it.

Before he had completely dissolved, he looked back at Sanctuary. “You are right to worry, mon ami. The new bearer is in danger, but not from me. Not yet, anyway.”