Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5) Read online

  Dedication

  For all our fans, friends, and family who have supported us in this series, we thank you. Without you, we would not be doing what we love most.

  Acknowledgement

  We would like to thank Noah Stacey once again for the wonderful cover art, and our readers for suggestions on plots and characters.

  Weapon of Pain

  Weapon of Flesh Trilogy II

  Book 2

  Chris A. Jackson and Anne L. McMillen-Jackson

  Kindle edition

  7.16

  Continuing the award-winning Weapon of Flesh series.

  Assassins at war…

  A bloody guild war was the last thing Mya wanted.

  She nearly had it all: Lady T’s endorsement as Grandmaster of the Assassins Guild, the emperor’s gratitude, and finally someone who made her feel human...

  Now Lady T is dead, the emperor asks a favor that Mya dare not refuse, and Dee expects more from her than just friendship. It doesn’t help that a cabal of assassins prefers an Imperial Grandmaster over an upstart from Twailin.

  What she doesn’t know is that the rebel factions want more from her than just the Grandmaster’s ring.

  Everyone wants something from Mya, but how much can she give before it kills her?

  Copyright Notice

  Copyright 2016 Chris A. Jackson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, except for brief quotations in printed reviews—without prior permission from the author.

  Cover Image Copyright 2016 Jaxbooks

  Find more books by Chris A. Jackson at jaxbooks.com

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  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Copyright Notice

  Prelude

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  Chapter XIX

  Chapter XX

  Chapter XXI

  Chapter XXII

  Chapter XXIII

  Chapter XXIV

  Epilogue

  Thanks for reading!

  About the Authors

  Novels by Chris A. Jackson

  Prelude

  I am in so much trouble…

  Dee watched Mya slip from his bed, his hands already lonelier for the loss of her touch. His gaze lingered on the runic tattoos that danced on her sweat-slicked skin as she bent to pick up her robe.

  “Would you like to touch them?” she had asked an hour earlier.

  How could any sane man have said no?

  “I need to be touched,” she had said. “I need someone to make me feel…human.”

  Why did I ever say yes?

  After years as her assistant, owing her his life, how could he deny her? Truth be told, he had often entertained fantasies of he and Mya together, but never dreamed that it could happen.

  “I’m not in love with you, Dee.”

  Her words had been as cold and sharp as a sword’s edge. No blade could have cut him deeper, but he had smiled through the pain, lost in the dream. Then he was touching her, tasting her, pouring himself into her like wine into a glass. And when he had no more to give, Mya had coaxed him into giving more. Dee had lost himself in her…and that was the problem.

  Gods, I’m in trouble.

  Mya donned her robe, leaving only the unmarked flesh of her face, hands, and feet visible. Wadding up the enchanted wrappings that she wore to conceal her tattoos, she turned to face him. “Thank you, Dee.”

  Dee’s stomach clenched at the casual dismissal, the same tone she used when he drafted letters for her. What does she see when she looks at me? A friend, a lover…or just an underling to be thanked for a job well done?

  A smile flicked across her lips, the only part of her he hadn’t tasted. When he had tried, she’d turned away. Mya accepted his passion, but nothing as personal as a kiss.

  “Mya, you don’t have to—”

  “I do.” She jerked tight the robe tie. “I just…want you to know that this meant something to me. I needed it. Thank you.”

  His heart ached at the thought that their intimacy had meant so much more to him than it had to her. Dee smiled through the pain, and his mouth moved without thought. “It was my pleasure.” Stupid…

  Her smile widened to a full-on grin. “I thought you were enjoying yourself. Well…I better grab a bath and sleep.”

  “Do you want me to watch over you?” He forced his languid muscles into action, reaching for his trousers as he swung his legs out of the bed and stood. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

  “You’re right, but…” She shook her head. “Forget it. I’ll bathe in the morning.”

  “All right.” He dropped back onto the bed, his knees quivering, his loins aching in testimony to his efforts to fulfill her every desire. “I’ll help you with your gown for the coronation.”

  “Good.” Mya reached for the door, but looked back again. “Thank you, Dee. I mean it. You’ve made me feel…human again.”

  Dee wanted to scream, “Stop thanking me! You’re more than just human, Mya. You’re beautiful and strong and brilliant and sensual, and I could fall in love with you in a heartbeat!” Of course, he couldn’t say that, couldn’t tell her how he really felt. This was Mya, after all—his boss, the Grandmaster of the Assassins Guild.

  “Any time.” Dee cursed himself as the words fell from his lips. Like a man strapped to a rack taunting his inquisitor…

  “I may just take you up on that.” Mya smiled again before opening the door and stepping through, quiet as a ghost. The latch closed with a click.

  Dee collapsed back on the bed, closing his eyes to relive the last hour. Her scent redolent on his sheets and her taste sharp on his tongue, he imagined Mya still with him, his fingers still dancing across her smooth, tattooed skin.

  “You’re an idiot, Dee.”

  Dee knew he should sleep. Tomorrow was the coronation, and he had to help Mya with her gown and send her off. Off to fight an archmage, maybe even to die… And it had been his suggestion. It would have been easier to watch her walk into that peril tomorrow if she hadn’t come to his room tonight, but what was done was done. Who knows, maybe I just saved her life. She needed to sleep and she certainly would now.

  “Why did you do it, Dee?” He considered the question honestly, and the answer was simple. She’d needed him, truly needed him. Dee had been able to give her what no one else could—not Paxal, not her urchins, not even Lad. She was still in love with Lad, of that he had no doubt, but Dee owed Mya his life and loyalty. If all she needed from him was sex, that was fine. He could provide it unwaveringly.

  She need never know what he truly felt for her.

  Chapter I

  Mya woke reluctantly, clinging to a dream of music, laughter, and dancing.

  She smiled. Not a dream, but a memory. I saved a crown prince’s life yesterday and danced with a newly crowned emperor. Before she could dwell on her triumph, the recollection of her subseq
uent failure crushed her spirit like a bug under a boot heel. The image of Lady T’s blank, soulless eyes rose to mind, shadowed by a dark mist dissipating in the breeze.

  Hoseph—gods damn him to the pits of the lowest hell!

  The murdering priest had killed Lady T only moments after she’d acknowledged Mya as the Grandmaster of the Assassins Guild. The Tsing guildmaster had been the lynchpin she needed to secure control over the guild throughout the empire. Where Tsing led, all the outlying guilds would follow. Mya had worked for weeks to win Lady T’s recognition at the cost of time, money, and innocent lives. She sobered as she pictured Tiny’s shroud-covered body.

  This is all Hoseph’s fault! There was no doubt in Mya’s mind that he was trying to turn the rest of the guild against her, even as she lay there in bed.

  Over my dead body.

  She had to take control of the Tsing guild, and she had to do it quickly.

  So get to it!

  As Mya flung off the sheet, a knock sounded at her door and Paxal’s voice grated, “Breakfast, Miss Mya.”

  His usual preternatural timing… How often had the old innkeeper known what Mya wanted before she even asked for it?

  “Down in a minute.” Mya swung her feet to the floor and flashed a smile to her night watch.

  Twigs sat cross legged against the wall beside the bed. Stretching out one foot, he prodded Gimp, who lay asleep. The little girl’s eyes popped open and she struggled to sit up, her crooked leg sticking out at an awkward angle.

  “Morning, Miss Mya.” They grinned at her as they rose, hefting crossbows nearly as big as they were.

  “Did you two get any sleep?”

  “We took turns,” Twigs declared proudly.

  “And no whispering,” Gimp promised. Though the urchins had been watching over her every night since she had enlisted their help, they sometimes talked too much and slept too little. Since Hoseph’s first deadly attack, they had buckled down on their vigilance. “You?”

  “Yes, thanks to you two.” That wasn’t exactly true, but her insomnia wasn’t their fault.

  Mya stretched and considered what to wear. Though she would have preferred to slip into trousers, a blouse, and a pair of soft boots, the constables had told her that someone would be by this morning to question her further about Lady T’s murder.

  As if they didn’t ask enough questions last night. She sighed as she pushed aside one outfit after another. Avoiding the finery she had donned as Mrs. Addington when she and Lad had first arrived in Tsing, and the matronly clothes she had worn as Madame Bouchard the orphanage director, she settled on a simple dress, something that Moirin the bodyguard might wear. Finally ready, she motioned to the door. “Come on. I can smell the bacon from up here!”

  “Don’t have to tell us twice!” Twigs chirped with another grin.

  They ventured out, Mya twisting and bending through the maze of taut catgut that webbed the hallway. The precaution had proven effective against Hoseph’s ability to materialize out of thin air. The hallway still smelled of smoke from the priest’s last ill-fated visit, the floor stained with fire and the blood of his mercenaries.

  Another door opened, and Knock stepped out. The burly little crossbreed girl smiled, her single tusk jutting up from her crooked teeth. She smacked a hefty axe handle against the palm of her hand. "Knock!”

  Nestor followed, gripping his crossbow tight in his small hands and bobbing his head at Mya. Then Dee…

  Mya smiled as she met her assistant’s eyes, shivering as she remembered their time together the night before the coronation. With his help, she’d slept like the dead and woken refreshed. Maybe I should have waylaid him last night, too. Though it had been nearly midnight when the constables finally left, she had lain awake half the night worrying.

  “Morning, Dee.”

  “Miss Mya.” He matched her smile and followed her down the stairs. “More constables today?”

  “Yes, and I’m trying to keep all my lies straight. I’ve used four pseudonyms in the past month, and it’s getting hard to remember which name to answer to. Talk about a tangled web!” She plucked one of the taut strings and set a bell to chiming. To avoid setting off a panic in response to the tinkling alarm, she called out, “No worries, it’s just me!”

  “No doubt.” Dee stepped over the last tripwire and followed her down the hall toward the back door and the kitchen. “The question is: what happens now?”

  Mya opened her mouth to answer as she turned into the kitchen, but Paxal cut her off.

  “No, the question is: will you two shut your yaps long enough to eat?” He hefted a huge skillet mounded with fried potatoes, onion, pepper, garlic, and thick bacon—enough to feed a small army—from the stove to the table, placing it next to the stack of plates and pile of forks. The smell was euphoric. “Now eat, or I’ll hire the cook back and you’ll be eating that slop of a porridge she makes for breakfast!” He started loading plates and handing them out.

  “And I thought you couldn’t cook.” Mya accepted a plate and a thick slab of warm bread and sat down at the table, as did Dee, while the urchins took their plates and happily sat on the floor. The former inn also had a large dining room with plenty of seating, but it wasn’t as informal—or as easy to defend—as the cozy kitchen. She poured blackbrew into a cup and lightened it with milk.

  “This ain’t proper cookin’, but it’ll do.” Paxal scraped the last of the breakfast onto his own plate, then sat at the table and slathered butter onto a steaming slice of bread.

  “It’s proper enough for me,” Dee mumbled around a mouthful. Swallowing, he took a gulp of blackbrew, then looked at Mya and repeated his question. “So, what happens now? With the masters, I mean. You know Hoseph probably got to them all before your messengers did.”

  “Yes, I know.” She’d thought about that long and hard last night and come to a simple conclusion. “We wait for their answers. I’ve got to deal with the constables this morning.”

  Dee’s brow furrowed. “And if they answer with an all-out attack instead of a polite note?”

  “Then they’re dumber than I think they are.” Mya wiggled her finger in the air, the ebony and gold Grandmaster’s ring glinting in the light. “They can’t touch me.”

  “Hoseph can.”

  “Yes, but he’s got to assume we’re expecting him. He should know better than to attack again with us wary. He’s tried twice and both times nearly got himself killed. Although…” Mya cocked her head as she thought. “The attacks didn’t seem particularly well planned. A well-trained assassin would at least have had a contingency plan.”

  “Hoseph’s not a well-trained assassin…” Dee looked thoughtful. “In fact, he’s not an assassin at all, at least, not a guild assassin. He was just the Grandmaster’s messenger.”

  “The Right Hand of Death.” Mya considered Hoseph’s self-proclaimed title. The man certainly had an ego; she just had to figure out how to use it against him.

  “Well, he should be wary, but never underestimate someone’s capacity for stupidity.” Though Dee’s sarcasm was obvious, there was something to that old adage.

  “Hoseph’s not stupid, but he’s certainly desperate, and I’ve earned his enmity.” She shot Dee a sly grin. “As have you. I’m not the one who shot him in the ass.”

  Dee’s mouth twisted wryly. “A little higher with that shot, and we wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore.”

  “You did well to get a shot off at all. That magic of his…” Mya shuddered as she recalled the priest’s magic dredging up every horrible event of her life as if they were all happening again at once.

  “Knock!” Knock grinned up at Dee from beneath her heavy brow. Ever since his lucky shot had saved her life, the girl had been his most ardent admirer.

  “So, we’re back to the question: which of the masters will go with Hoseph and which will accept you as Grandmaster? We could end up with a guild war.”

  Mopping up the juices on her plate with a piece of bread, Mya po
pped it into her mouth, relishing the last smoky, greasy bite as her tension eased a trifle. If anyone knew how to conduct a guild war, it was Mya. She’d fought one against the masters of the Twailin Assassins Guild only months ago. And they’re all dead. Pushing aside her empty plate, she refilled her blackbrew cup and leaned back in her chair, feeling ready to slay any dragon foolish enough to test her mettle.

  “About the masters… I think I can depend on Clemson being on my side. Her Enforcers heard Lady T acknowledge me as Grandmaster, and she’ll believe her own people. The others…” Mya shrugged. “…I don’t know. As eager as they were to deny me until Lady T gave her approval, I don’t see them accepting me on the word of another master’s underlings.”

  “None of them have done anything directly against you yet,” Dee pointed out.

  “Because they can’t.” She waved her finger again. “But nothing prevents them from hiring more mercenaries. And Hoseph took Lady T’s ring. Dangling that prize in front of them will certainly serve as incentive to be creative.”

  “Well, you know you can depend on Sereth and the Twailin guild.”

  Mya hoped Dee was right. Sereth had sent her money and promised more, and she had always gotten along well with the Blade, now Twailin’s guildmaster. But Twailin was a thousand miles and weeks travel away. She had to rely on what she had here and now.

  “What about the caps? They’ll be here soon and we can’t have them pokin’ around here like cats after a rat.” Paxal jerked a thumb toward the upper floors. “This is supposed to be an orphanage, but that spider web of cat gut will raise some eyebrows, and maybe some questions you don’t want to answer.”

  “Good point.” Mya sighed, wishing once again that the constables had completed their questioning last night; she had more important things to do today. “I don’t want to dismantle all our defenses, so no caps go upstairs. If anyone sees them headed that way, just sing out so I can hear you and I’ll deal with it. If they insist, I’ll pull my I-just-saved-the-emperor’s-life card. What’s the use in being a hero if you can’t throw your weight around a little?”