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

Sox cap jumped out and headed over to Dana and Lee. He crouched down and shared a few words with the officer before signaling to the chopper. Two more men wearing EMS uniforms and carrying a stretcher exited the side door and ran to retrieve Dana.

Jared watched helplessly as the men returned to the aircraft with Dana in tow and lifted her up into the open door. The big man and the medic followed suit closing the door just as the aircraft lifted off the ground. The helicopter rose into the air hovering for a few seconds before moving forward and passing over the horizon and out of sight.

As soon as the aircraft was gone, a squad of police officers arrived. They moved slowly and methodically, canvassing the area for any signs of the two perpetrators who had been reported to still be in the area. Not wanting to be discovered, Jared disappeared in a flash of blue light.

He reappeared down by the river where his brother had fallen. There was no sign of Steve’s body, but the current was moving swiftly, so it most likely had been swept downstream. Even after all he had done, Jared found it impossible to hate him. Steve was his younger brother and he would always love him unconditionally in spite of what he had chosen to become. He hoped that in death his brother had found some measure of peace. Sadly, however, the blood of the people he had murdered still cried out for justice. Even in death, he could not escape judgment.

He felt the presence of someone watching him from behind but did not turn around. “Late again, I see.”

The angel walked up and stood next to him and stared down at the river, as well. “So it seems.”

“Where is Jeremy?”

The angel looked up into the heavens. “At the hospital, but don’t worry, he will live. We were attacked shortly after you left, and he was injured severely. Thankfully, he will recover with no lasting complications. I have known him for a long time, and he has seen worse.”

Jared nodded but said nothing. Neither of them spoke as the river carried on its never-ending course. Was life like this river, Jared wondered, a continuously flowing stream always rushing toward a predetermined end? Did his brother truly choose his path, or, like Jared, was his path chosen for him?

He raised Tzedakah up and examined the softly glowing blade. He wanted to hate the sentient sword but found that he could not. In truth, it was only doing what it was designed to do. To hate it was the same as hating a lion for hunting or a storm for blowing. Still, he could not help but feel that he had been trapped by it somehow.

“I did not choose this,” he said softly.

“I know,” Sanctuary replied. “The ways of God are mysterious. Even we angels do not always understand them. Sometimes the road He asks us to walk is a hard one.”

Jared nodded and glanced over at the rushing water. “And sometimes,” he said, finishing Sanctuary’s thoughts, “someone has to be the one who sacrifices so others can live.”

Sanctuary looked at Jared with sad eyes. “It is the way of things,” he said. “But I am sorry that this burden has fallen on you.”

“It didn’t,” Jared said. “It fell on her.”

Neither of them spoke again as they stood on the riverbank and continued to watch the water flow by.

Epilogue

The Musketeer materialized somewhere in the woods at the top of a steep ravine. He hated the forest and much preferred the hustle and bustle of the big city to the dull quiet of nature. Cities were filled with people and people brought chaos; he loved chaos. What he was seeking, however, had come to rest somewhere deep at the bottom of this ravine.

With a sigh, he leapt from the edge into thin air. Wind rushed past as he dropped, nearly snatching away his precious hat. He grabbed it just before a particularly strong gust stole it from him.

The rapier on his hip flashed violet, and his momentum slowed to a crawl. He landed on his feet, as soft as a feather, patted his trusty weapon, and scanned the area. It did not take him long to spot what he was looking for. About two meters away, next to two large rocks, lay the broken body of a man.

With a slight skip in his step, he sauntered over to the mossy boulders. He had to watch his footing because the stones were covered in algae and extremely slippery. He hated getting his boots wet.

He grabbed a large stick to shove the body onto its back, so he could examine it better. Steve’s battered and bloodied face looked up at the Musketeer who tsked thoughtfully. Was the boy dead? Alas, no; there was the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

Steve’s eyes flicked open.

“Well done,” the Musketeer said. “You are still alive. That is a truly fortunate thing, mon ami, because there is still much that needs doing. I am not finished with you just yet.”

Acknowledgement

So now that you have read this book of mine, (at least I hope you did and did not simply jump to the back in order to read my overlong, “please get of the stage, Oscar winning” speech) I would like to take the time to acknowledge a few people. Well, a few people is most likely a gross understatement, as the folks who know me will attest.

First off, I want to thank you the readers for deciding to pick up my book. I know you have a gazillion other options to choose from, and from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for taking a chance on my little novel. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.

No good author worth his salt could write his first acknowledgment page without mentioning the two people