Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Jonathan Michael (red novels .txt) 📖

myself into a squatting position, sulking in the misery of what’s become my life. Then, I hear a man’s voice. Not any man, that’s Stone.

I rise and peer through the corner of a window, keeping low. Astor and Stone banter back and forth. He’s flirting with the enemy. Having a grand time. She has a text in her hand, but she giggles and smiles and holds an awfully close space between them. And he inches closer, enjoying every moment of it. Has he forgotten all about me? He already has a new life. A life with Astor. A life at the Academy. He has no concerns of me whatsoever.

I move to break the glass out of anger. But my training has begun to establish its roots, and I pull back. Ellia would cringe at allowing such emotions to run rampant. Ellia cares how I behave. She tries to make me a better person. Stone… Stone only tries to sweep me away and make me nonexistent. Ellia attempts to put me on a pedestal but knows standing up there will be my doom if she doesn’t prep me for it. Ellia cares about me.

She’s in the city now. I may still have time to catch up with her. Assist her in whatever mission she’s to carry out tonight.

I take to the shadows once more.

The Taoiseach is all too predictable. He betrays the faith, claiming to be all powerful. Invincible even. Impossible. The faith must rise against, but first, the knowledge must be lost. With reluctance, I will let his lust for death take its course until it is no longer useful.

35 Ellia

M y skin is damp from the soft serein falling from the twilit sky. Cerise has not yet welcomed the evening goers with her ambience, allowing the first stars to appear earlier than usual. It will be a dark night. A perfect night.

An evening with the gentlemen of The Jack Rose calls for a revealing outfit. I step through the ungreased door of the less-than-credible lounge, donning a midnight-red, silk-ribbon gown, accompanied by black-lace, knee-high boots and my most charming eye patch, a tuft of bangs. These are the only arms I’ll require to satisfy my lust tonight.

The Jack Rose is boisterous, and the night is still young. The fruits are ripe for the picking. It will be like choosing which prime cut to take from the butcher block. Except I rarely take only one. The choice will be in which bite to take first.

I let the door slam behind me. It’s comical how easy it is to manipulate men. Every eye in the pub gazes in my direction. The men have made their choice. Some of the women too. Those not ogling eye me with distaste. The barkeep winks at me. I would wink in return, but it wouldn’t do much good. I nod.

I mustn’t leave any eyewitnesses, or Jack and his venue will gain a reputation. Our agreement is that I leave him out of it. He doesn’t want to see it, and nothing is left behind. He knows his venue attracts some of the lowest scum, and he has accepted that I’m going to clean up what I feel necessary. New scum always seems to replace the old, so it hasn’t affected business. Beyond that, I may gain a reputation. And I don’t know of any Shadows that have a reputation. No. I must stick to the cracks and crevasses of the world, unseen by most and shrouding the rest until their eyes go blind. I mustn’t leave any witnesses.

The alcoholics go back to their ales, the wenches back to their customers, and the cocks continue to gaze. Even more so, the ones that have already been warmed by one of the nasty wenches.

I strut toward the bar and take a seat on the closest empty wooden stool. Jack approaches. “What will it be?” He’s not interested in my company, but he won’t leave me dry.

“Whiskey. Dirty.”

“Now that’s my kind a gal,” exclaims the inebriated man sitting at my side.

Low-hanging fruit. He goes by Philemon Mossback at the market during the day. In the cracks and crevasses where I prey, he is a slave trader by the name Vise. Might as well start here.

“I’m nobody’s gal.” I turn a heavy shoulder to him.

“M-my apologies, young lady. I-I meant no disrespect. I was merely complimenting your choice of beverage. That’s all.”

How could a man lacking anything reminiscent of a man put himself in such a formidable position of power?

“Apology accepted.” I take his mug from him then open my throat and let it flow.

“Like I said the first time. You’re my kind a gal… uh… I mean, lady.”

He continues to chatter. Not really interested in what he has to say, I nod my head and smile from time to time. A man drowning in his own sorrows has much to say he wouldn’t otherwise, so there is no need to engage myself in the conversation to keep him on the hook.

Jack returns shortly thereafter with my whiskey. And so, the evening iniquities begin.

“I like you.” I caress Vise’s thigh. A simple comment and a simple gesture are all it takes to lead this naïve, frail man to his death. I force my hand onto his groin and squeeze. Petite, naïve, and frail. I lean in and whisper into his ear. “Follow me. Wait a few clicks after I’m out of sight, then follow. I have a reputation to uphold.” I snap to my feet and exit out the back door into the alley. I make no eye contact or give any notion I’m about to violently seduce this man. I don’t even bother making sure he will follow. He’s a man. He’ll follow.

I walk a short distance down the dark alley. The only light reaching into the shadows is the