Total pages in book: 222
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
“A perfect place to torture people. Nobody would hear them scream. Did the Shears find my fingers?”
Everard gave me an odd look.
“He cut them off,” I explained. “Both hands. Did they find them?”
“No,” Everard said slowly.
“So my body parts disappear after I die. Good to know.”
He looked slightly ill. Ramond vi Everard, a human being. That would be the day.
“You treat Death so lightly, Maggie. As if it were just a thing that happens to you instead of the fiend it is. Every time you die, I wonder if this time it will take.”
“Cheer up, Your Grace. The evening is lovely, we’re alive, and we still have three delicious pastries left. Matheo is still stuck in the Redeemer Tower, but the Butcher will not end his life.” I curled my hand into a fist and made a hammering motion with it. “Because he doesn’t have a face anymore.”
“Once you recover, I will teach you how to defend yourself with a dagger. You can’t keep bashing people to death in a blind panic.”
“It’s worked well for me so far.”
“True, but you might not always have a bludgeon handy.”
“I’ve never used a dagger before.”
He smiled. “Then you won’t have any bad habits I’ll have to correct.”
“Do you still have my lucky coin?”
He reached into his jacket and slid a den over the surface of the table. I took it. It felt familiar and comforting in my fingers.
“We won,” I said softly. It had cost me so much, but we had won. “I don’t care how resistant the future is, the Butcher is dead. Hreban will never be the Sun Margrave. It’s over.”
Solentine Dagarra swung himself over our parapet and landed on the wall, six feet away. His eyes were slightly sunken in, and the lines of his handsome face were sharper and more prominent. His usually perfectly combed hair stuck out from his head in a disheveled mess. He looked rough, as if he’d spent a couple of weeks fighting with a nasty flu and today was his first day upright.
How the hell did he get here so fast? The Demarr domain was all the way in the Trihorn. It should’ve taken him weeks to get back and forth.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he said. “But they just found another butterflied body hanging off the Estret Bridge.”
PART IV
IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER
CHAPTER 29
Fucking shit! Of all the fucked-up, shitty, damn fucking assholes . . . Why?”
I stomped around my study.
“Was that not enough? Was the Butcher not enough?! Fuck you. Fuck you, Latour! I hope you die and rot in some ditch, you filthy motherfucker! Fuck Kair Toren, fuck Rellas, this whole damn world can go and jump in the fire for all I care!”
Solentine blinked and looked at Everard. “Who is Latour?”
“No clue,” the Sleepless Duke said.
I finally ran out of steam and collapsed into my chair.
The two men waited.
“Rough journey?” Everard asked.
Solentine nodded. “Thunderstorms over the Glades. Added three hours.”
I met Everard’s eyes. “He’s dead, right? He didn’t regrow a face and resurrect?”
“I swear to you, he is dead,” Everard said.
“Magic has a limit, and its name is Death,” Solentine said. “Last I checked people didn’t come back to life. That would be utterly ridiculous.”
“Ha!” I put my hand over my face.
“Maggie, the Butcher is no more,” Everard said. “I will prove it to you tonight.”
“It has to be an impostor,” Solentine said. “I got a good look at the body before the guards pulled it off the bridge. It lacked the Butcher’s artistry. Cutting humans open to display your handiwork requires a skill set most people do not possess. The cut on Velpor was a single smooth slice. It took the new killer four cuts to open up the body, and his edges are ragged.”
“So he imitates without understanding the purpose behind the kill,” Everard said.
“In essence, yes,” Solentine said. “Also, the Butcher dueled his victims. He was looking for that moment when the tide turned, and his target saw their death approach. The man sought to prove his superiority. The new murderer put an amulor through the target’s eye.”
“What’s an amulor?” I asked.
“A narrow-bladed dagger. About this long.” Solentine indicated about fourteen inches with his fingers. “Triple-edged, convex grind. Very stiff. Basically, a sharp, rigid spike designed to crack links in chain armor. The killer stabbed our dead man in the eye with enough force to scramble the brain behind it. Instant kill. The victim didn’t even know he died.”
“Hreban hired a replacement,” Everard said. “It’s the simplest explanation.”
“Probably Cai of Sunder,” I told them. “That’s his go-to assassin.”
Solentine frowned. “That complicates things.”
“Is he good?” Everard asked.
“Yes. Fast, precise, professional. The man doesn’t get emotionally involved,” Solentine said.
“Can you find him before the opening of the judicial session?” Everard asked.
The head of the Shears shrugged. “Doubtful. I will try, but only saints can work miracles.”