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

letting out the knowledge of the ages. Or you can keep your secrets and let thousands of innocents die. We will be marching into your realm and at your city gates before winter. You have your warning.”

“And so, history repeats itself,” he mutters to himself before responding to Carib more defiantly. “Ultimatums don’t suit me,” the Taoiseach stresses. His chair screeches on the hardwood.

I raise myself just high enough to peer through the window, and the Taoiseach casually walks around his desk toward the dark figure. This Carib fellow is dead. The Taoiseach is more powerful than any man. I’ve felt his talent and his strength. It’s inhuman.

Facing him, the Taoiseach places his left hand on the side of Carib’s right shoulder, casually, as a good friend would do. Then his right wraps around Carib’s neck. Carib doesn’t flinch.

“I’m immune to your talents, Harris. I’ve uncovered some of your secrets by dabbling in what you’ve deemed ‘taboo.’ You may be able to prevent all the citizens of your realm from doing so, but thankfully, I was banished from your realm and your rules. In a way, I should thank you for banishing me because I discovered so much without the hand of your guard watching my every move. And I must admit, it’s a rather intelligent way to maintain your rule of the realm, by preventing all others from discovering their true potential. But it won’t be that way for long. Your time has come to an end.”

Carib grabs the Taoiseach’s wrist and pulls it away from his neck with ease. It’s difficult to see in the dimly lit room, but it doesn’t look like it even left a mark. The Taoiseach’s touch of death didn’t faze this man. No pain, no scars, and not a hint of intimidation. I lower myself beneath the window and press tightly against it, my knees to my chest. I take a deep, yet silent breath. An equal in strength and talent? To the Taoiseach? A chill sweeps through the warm evening air.

Harris must be hiding extremely valuable information if this man has already figured out how to make himself invincible to the Taoiseach’s touch. And he believes the Taoiseach has more to offer?

“I see you have brought your talents a long way,” Harris continues. I hold still to listen. “You know, what you have done is irreversible. You are even less of a man now than when Ellia removed your manhood. It is no way to live.”

“That may be, but I am invincible.”

“Invincible?” the Taoiseach repeats. “Nobody is invincible. You may have discovered you’re an Immortal, but nobody is invincible. There is so much you don’t understand.”

Irreversible? Invincible? Immortal? They’re real?

“Exactly, and that is why I plan on marching my army to your front door. We all have the right to know.”

“You’re too arrogant to deserve what you’re asking for, Carib. However, come to my front door if you must. Sacrifices are nothing new to me. But you must know, you will be destroyed if you do. We have nothing more to discuss. Now, please excuse yourself.”

“You have your warning, Harris. Make the right choice,” the man says over his shoulder as he struts in my direction.

Dammit. I thought he would leave like a normal man, out the chamber door. Why is he retreating toward the sundeck?

I crouch low and hold tight to the wall as I have been. There’s hardly a shadow to conceal me with Cerise claiming the sky. He may still walk past me.

An unexpected scream sounds out. Something from a dreadful beast. A mixture between a growl and the piercing screech of a large raptor. Then, I see it. A raptor flying toward the manor, diving straight toward the sundeck.

The sun’s light swathes the dawning sky with drowsy blue hues. The silhouette of the bird soars toward me. But this is no normal raptor. This bird has four legs outstretched as it comes in for a landing. And instead of talons, paws of a wolf. The beast lands on the deck with the elegance of any raptor. Its wings stretch nearly the entire length of the deck before folding in. Its paws are as large as my head, and it doesn’t have a beak, feathers, or a bird’s skull. This beast was a wolf. Now a wolf with the wings of a raptor. I’ve never seen such a thing. I freeze, crouched low underneath the window on the deck. The winged beast seems to have no interest in me. It sits like a dog and patiently waits.

In my terror, I neglect the man called Carib.

He opens the door, walks by me, glances down, and mounts the beast as it crouches low. He adjusts himself in the saddle and grabs the reigns before calling out to Harris one more time. “Harris, you have a visitor.” He points a deathly pale finger at me and smiles.

As he does so, I see something impossible. All his features change. His red tattoos fade. His brow raises high into his forehead. His cheekbones lift, and his complexion goes dark. Then, just as quick as it changed, it morphs back into the original pale man. He heels the beast, and its wings unfurl, sending a gust of wind my way, and it leaps from the sundeck.

I have seen this before. I thought I remembered everything from that night four seasons ago, but seeing his face change before my eyes, it floods me with buried memories. Carib is the one who stormed our home. He saw me peeking through the baluster and his face…it was Harris Martelli’s face, then it flashed into a pale, distorted figure and back again. Just as it did now. I remember. Harris wasn’t there the night of our parents’ deaths. It was Carib. Carib is a shapeshifter. A Mimic. The worst of characters played out on the silver screen. And