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

get back in time for work. Smiling politely at Steve, she headed back the way she’d come.

Before the woman had even made it a meter, Steve struck like a viper. His shadow blade lashed out and sliced the back of her hamstring. Unsure of what had happened, the woman stumbled forward and dropped to one knee. The cut had been so precise that it had sliced cleanly through her skintight pants, leaving only the slightest incision.

The woman gritted her teeth from the sudden intense pain, tears welling in her eyes. She groped at the back of her leg and cradled it to her body protectively. She was in shock as the blood dripped down her leg and pooled at her feet.

When she noticed the dark red stain on the ground next to her, her face went paper-white. She tried to stand but stumbled and fell backward, hitting her tailbone hard on the pavement. She was still in shock and could only whimper as she looked around for help.

Her eyes met Steve’s. He smiled warmly and ambled toward her, and she exhaled thankfully through gritted teeth when she realized she’d managed to get his attention. But the searing pain in her leg made it impossible for her to explain the seriousness of her injury. The woman was in so much pain that all she managed to say to him as he kneeled down next to her was a barely intelligible, “Please call 911.”

“Just calm down, getting all worked up only makes it worse,” he said, pretending to assess the situation. “Now, tell me what happened.”

“I—I—” she started.

The world swam, and woman blinked to regain focus. She wanted to stand, but the searing pain told her the leg would not work. All she could do was grasp it as her blood leaked out.

Steve pulled her hand away and probed the wound. “Okay, I can feel where it’s bleeding from. Looks like you got a nasty cut here. Any idea how that happened?”

The woman shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I’ve got it,” Steve said, clamping his hand on the wound.

The jogger closed her eyes and exhaled releasing some of the built-up tension. Her face was tear stained and she was deathly pale, but thanks to her unknown rescuer, she felt a little better.

“Thank you,” she started to say before her words were strangled by a rush of excruciating pain.

She thrashed and screamed out in agony as Steve cruelly dug his fingers into her open wound. Even though it was early morning, this was upstate New York. No one was around to hear her cries.

He was in ecstasy right up to the point where the woman passed out from pain and went limp. Furious that his fun was interrupted, he kicked the prostrate woman. Seriously, he had seen more fight in a puppy. He had just decided to put the poor girl out of her misery when he felt a surge of immense power materialize behind him.

Remembering the Musketeer’s words, he allowed the dark energy that resided in him to build up in his fingertips. Now the demonic force flowed out of him instinctively as if it had always been a part of him. Energy coursed through his entire body, electrifying him with unimaginable power.

Steve’s newfound demonic senses bristled at the spiritual pressure of the man who slowly walked toward him. The authority emanating from him was similar to the Musketeer’s, yet decidedly different. It was as if both men were different sides of the same coin. He was dressed all in black like the Musketeer and brandishing a glowing sword, though he was wearing a long-tattered trench coat instead of the Musketeer’s traditional tabard.

Even with his dark powers, Steve knew he should be afraid of the man, but the intoxicating effect he felt from the demonic energy he’d unleashed flooded him with confidence. It was not until the man had moved close enough for Steve to see his face that his nerve faltered. The face he beheld was the face of his dead brother.

“No,” he hissed in disbelief. “This is not possible.”

Jared advanced toward his younger brother. His nightmare black eyes churned angrily and Tzedakah’s glow increased with every step. In truth, Jared did not see his brother when he looked at Steve. All he saw was the monstrous atrocities he had committed. All he saw was murder.

Jared pointed Tzedakah at his petrified younger brother. Power swelled in the blade of the sentient sword, arcing and convulsing in anticipation. Jared’s face was hard; Steve knew that the person who stood before him now was no longer his older brother.

The thought came too late to him, however, as Jared unleashed the pent-up energy. The power exploded from the blade with the sound of a thunderclap and surged toward him like a lightning bolt. He knew that he would not be quick enough to evade the blast. He had resigned himself to his fate when a voice inside said, “Let me take control.”

Thirty-Nine

Jeremy ran to the edge of the roof and searched in vain for any trace of Jared. He knew it was futile, but he had to make sure, anyway. The Holy Spirit was screaming in his mind that danger was nearby, but he ignored the warnings.

“This is not good,” he said frantically. “I know that this kind of thing is not my usual forte, but he’s kind of grown on me and I don’t want to see him dead. Well, at least re-dead or whatever it is that happens to him.”

Sanctuary paced behind him, scanning the horizon as if he was searching for something. “His link with the sword is tenuous at best and that puts him in real danger. Tzedakah will do his utmost to protect him, but sword bearers are at their most vulnerable shortly after they are first called.”

“Called, that’s a very diplomatic way to put zombified,” Jeremy retorted. “Where do you think he went? Honestly, he could theoretically be anywhere in