Assassin's Magic Read online

  Assassin’s Magic 1

  Everly Frost

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Assassin’s Magic 2: Assassin’s Mask

  Assassin’s Menace

  Also by Everly Frost

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018 by Everly Frost

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead are purely coincidental.

  Frost, Everly

  Assassin’s Magic

  Cover Design: Atelier Droeven

  For information on reproducing sections of this book or sales of this book, go to

  www.EverlyFrost.com

  [email protected]

  For everyone who brings light into the world.

  Chapter One

  Rain drips down my face and back as I brace beneath the weight of the wooden log that rests across my shoulders. The muscles in my arms and legs scream. I’ve stood like this for nearly two hours, unmoving, feet planted and legs straight.

  Three paces to my right, the only candidate left standing with me is Slade Baines, the strain on his body beginning to show, raindrops mingling with the sweat on his bare chest.

  We’re located in the middle of a courtyard inside the home of the Assassin’s Legion. It’s a place that shouldn’t exist—that doesn’t exist on any map except to those who know its location. Outside these walls, a city of people go about their everyday lives in Boston, sipping lattes, worrying about paying bills, and rushing to work or school.

  That life isn’t for me.

  Death is in my blood. It isn’t a choice. I have to finish my mother’s work. I have to become an assassin. The first step in my plan is to be trained as a Novice. The second step is to become a fully qualified assassin—what they call a Superior.

  So far, I’ve made it inside these walls, but for the Master Assassin to agree to train me, I have to pass this test of endurance.

  Master Gareth pauses in front of me, his eyes cold and gray. He whispers into the rain, “You will never amount to anything, Hunter Cassidy.”

  I blink rapidly as water drips into my eyes and plasters my hair to my back. I’m nearly naked, ordered to strip down to my sports bra and underpants. Slade, too, is wearing barely anything. It’s intended to make us feel powerless, to get inside our heads and make the test of endurance harder. Tremors rack my body while my temperature runs hot and cold in turns. No matter how much I want to give up, I remind myself: I have to do this. I have to finish what Mom started.

  The other candidates are all male. Their mocking expressions tell me they thought they would outlast me—that I wouldn’t be strong enough to hold out this long—but over the course of the afternoon, all of them except Slade fell before me.

  The plank of wood is square and four inches thick. Sharp iron nails protrude from its lower side, positioned to impale our shoulders if we don’t hold it high enough.

  It grows heavier and heavier. I know I can’t hold on much longer. But if I fall before Slade, I’ll be out. It won’t matter that I held on longer than most of the males. I’m female. A different standard applies to me. Master Gareth will never agree to train me unless I beat all of them.

  I grit my teeth and hold on.

  I can’t break before Slade does.

  As if he senses my self-doubt, Master Gareth leans closer, a gleam in his eyes. All Superiors can use magic but the energy I sense around him is something else: layered and deep, with levels of darkness I’ve never felt before.

  He says, “No woman has ever been allowed to train in my Legion. You will not be the first.”

  I meet his eyes, allowing the slightest challenge to enter mine. What he won’t admit is that I’m not the first woman to step foot inside these walls. Mom was the first. He didn’t train her though; he’s not lying about that. The Master before him trained her. But Master Gareth trained with my mother and it must worry him that I have suddenly appeared on his doorstep and asked to become an assassin like her.

  There are three Factions of assassins in the United States—the Legion here in Boston, the Horde in Austin, Texas, and the Dominion in Portland, Oregon. Each Faction has one intake of Novices each year and you have to be twenty years old to be considered. This is my one and only shot.

  He straightens and his robes drag, sodden with rain, across the stone courtyard as he paces around me. I sense him pause at my back, no doubt studying the tattoo that decorates my shoulder. It is an intricate design—one my mother created for me. I had it inked into my skin the day after she died. The day all her plans failed.

  I draw on her memory to keep me standing, the memory of her last words: Just because you are born into darkness, doesn’t mean you can’t overcome it.

  Words I’ve lived by since the day she died.

  Half of the trainees gloat at the way Gareth is speaking to me. The other half... look me up and down in a way that makes me shudder. Many of them have an air of entitlement about them.

  I never met any of them before today but I’ve already memorized their faces and names: the big guy in the middle is Lutz Logan, the smaller guy beside him is Brandon Baker, and the blond guy is Rowan Robertson. They all seem to have figured out that if they want to survive, they’re going to have to do what Lutz says.

  I’ll need to watch my back at all times.

  Gareth shouts from behind me. “You are nothing, woman! You will be nothing!” He leans right in behind me and rants into my ear. “You are worth… nothing.”

  Movement to my right makes me glance in that direction. Slade glares at the ground, his teeth gritted, his palms still pressing upward, but his fingers curl slightly as if he wants to form fists.

  He shifts a little so his gaze can meet mine. His eyes are slightly wide-set, a pale blue color, but rimmed in a darker gray that looks almost black, making them appear crisp and piercing. Dark brown hair with a wave in it frames his face while his strong chin is indented with a slight cleft. There is nothing soft about his face, not even his lips, which are perfectly formed and pursed in an unforgiving line.

  Anger swirls in his face and I’m surprised when he casts his rage in the Master’s direction.

  I don’t allow myself to imagine that Gareth’s taunts have made Slade angry—that he could be furious on my behalf. I block it all out, focusing on a point on the muddy courtyard, on a single mossy stone embedded with all the others. The court is cobbled stone, but the rain has kicked up dust and debris. The Master may be powerful and strong—the strongest assassin in the eastern United States—but nature is always stronger. He can’t control the rain. Even here in what we call an Assassin’s Realm, na ture breaks through.

  Each Realm is a place that sits right on top of a manmade landmark. In the Legion’s case, its Realm rests on top of the Boston Common. Ancient magic allows the buildings inside the Realm to coexist in the same space as the park. There could be a person walking through the exact location where I’m standing right now and I wouldn’t know it—and neither would they.

  Another half an hour passes and my shoulders sag. My head droops. My legs wobble. My arms shake.

  Slade isn’t fairing any better. If only we weren’t trying to beat each other. Doesn’t he know that he doesn’t have to prove himself anymore? He’s in. He’ll be trained. He doesn’t have to beat me.

  He seems to have the same thought at that moment, his gaze flashing to me. His forearms are shaking just as hard as mine. He takes a deep breath, exhales out through his mouth, and steps forward, tipping his hands backward to allow the plank to drop safely to the ground behind him. It thuds to the stone, an impact that is met with silence.

  He’s a step in front of me so I can’t see his expression, but his arms lower in agonizingly slow increments. It’s the flow of blood to his fingers that will hurt. I don’t want to think about it. All I know is that I have to hold on long enough that it’s clear I held on the longest.

  Master Gareth takes up position two paces in front of me, staring at me, waiting. His expression tells me that he wants me to fail no matter what I do. No matter how long I hold up this damn piece of wood.

  Mom warned me about him many times. Don’t believe anything he says. Don’t accept any favors from him. And above all, never contradict him.

  I hold on for another five minutes, counting out each second inside my mind. Seconds closer to relief. Then I step out from under the plank the same way Slade did, trying not to scream as it slides from my numb fingers and the weight lifts. I don’t take it easy. I drop my hands to my sides, letting the blood rush to my fingertips in an excruciating wave.

  Slade raises his eyebrows at me, a look of amazement on his face about the fact that I would welcome the pain so readily.

  I squeeze my eyes closed. There is no pain that compares to watching my mother die.

  There is no pain like standing in front of her killer and not being able to avenge her.

  The burning sensation in my arms will be over soon and in the meantime, I refuse to make a sound.

  When I open my eyes, I find Master Gareth pacing between Slade and me, tracing a figure eight around and between us.

  He stops in front of me and says, “It was a tie.”

  I blink at him. It clearly wasn’t, but I can’t say anything.

  He repeats, louder, as if he thinks I didn’t hear him. “It was a tie.”

  I grit my teeth. He wants me to contradict him, but I won’t say a word. If I want to stay, I have to accept everything he says and everything he does, no matter what.

  He can’t see Slade’s face, but I can. Slade remains with his back to me, but his head and shoulders are turned in the Master’s direction. A deep frown falls over Slade’s expression, making the contours of his face even harsher than before. He opens his mouth but his eyes meet mine—just in time.

  I give him the smallest shake of my head. I don’t want him to say anything.

  My gesture causes Slade to frown more deeply but he doesn’t voice whatever he was about to say.

  Master Gareth remains staring at me as he says, “The ranking order is as follows: Slade Baines, Lutz Logan, Brandon Baker, Rowan Robertson…” He continues listing out names until he gets to the end and then he hisses with disgust, “And Hunter Cassidy.”

  Despite the fact that Gareth is trying to demean me in the eyes of the other trainees by putting me last, he’s done me a favor. My low ranking means I’m not a threat to their egos.

  Unlike Slade. Lutz has been sizing him up for the last forty minutes, no doubt trying to figure out when he might be able to slide a knife between Slade’s ribs.

  I might be ranked last, but I’m in.

  Now the real challenge begins: doing what Mom couldn’t. And maybe… I’ll avenge her at the same time.

  Chapter Two

  One of the nearby Superiors steps up and shouts, “Gather into line, Novices!”

  Three Superiors have been standing at the edge of the courtyard, guarding the endurance test. In the early part of the test, several candidates dropped out and one of the Superiors took them away.

  Like Master Gareth, the Superiors are all large, imposing men, although not all of them are brutish in appearance. It takes all kinds to make a good assassin. Some of the best appear completely harmless.

  I stay where I am, since the Superior is pretty much pointing to my current position. I take the chance while the other trainees join me to wring out my ponytail, slicking any loose strands behind my ears. Twelve of us have made it through.

  As the other candidates form a rough line out to either side of me, Slade takes a quick step back to stand on my right while Lutz angles in to stand at my left, his gaze dragging over my body. The rain is only a drizzle now but his gaze follows the water droplets that travel all the way from my shoulders down my thighs. He’s also stripped down to his underwear and his near-nakedness leaves nothing to the imagination.

  I’ve met plenty of Lutz’s type in my life. Mom used to make deals with dangerous men for various reasons, although more frequently… she killed them. I hide a smile at the knowledge that she already taught me everything she knew. The trick for me will be pretending that I don’t know any of it yet.

  Lutz Logan doesn’t take his eyes off my breasts as he towers next to me, raising his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Looks like we have a new plaything, boys.”

  I respond immediately by turning and stepping right into him, forcing him to look higher than my chest. I tip my head back to maintain eye contact and show him that I’m not afraid.

  I keep my tone even and low. “Try anything and I will rip your balls off with my fingernails.”

  The barest surprise flickers across his face, but he hides it. I guess he expected me to cower in fear of his brutishness.

  He shrugs me off. “If you say so, sweetheart.”

  I adjust my focus to the Superior who ordered us into line. His next order is aimed at me. “Step back in line, Novice.”

  As I obey, I sense Slade watching me from my other side, but I also catch the slight lift of his head as he looks over the top of me at Lutz. Slade’s expression is deadpan, no hint of anything that could be construed as a challenge or dislike, only a calm assessment.

  He and Lutz are the same height and build, the only difference being that the trial proved Lutz’s muscles are all for show whereas Slade’s are… I quickly fixate on the pebbles again. Functional doesn’t seem quite adequate to describe Slade’s powerful physique.

  Master Gareth takes up position beside the Superior who ordered me back into line, but the Master remains silent, allowing the Superior to take charge.

  “I am Superior Ridley. I will teach you combat, weaponry, and survival skills.” He indicates the other two Superiors as he speaks, confirming my suspicion that they will be teaching us. “This is Superior Fallon who will teach you how to use assassin’s magic, and that is Superior Lincoln who will teach you about poisons.”

  Ridley hands off to Lincoln, who assesses each of us before he speaks. Lincoln is as tall and imposing as Ridley but is more leanly built. As the poisons teacher, his talent will be for killing by deception rather than brute strength.

  Lincoln says, “Your survival starts now. From this moment on, you will follow the Assassin’s Code.”

  He pauses to make sure he has our attention. “The first rule: assassins don’t kill each other. Any Superior or Novice who breaks this rule forfeits their life. Every assassin in this Legion will come after you if you break this rule. The only time you lay hands on each other will be in training. Is that understood?”

  Lutz lets out a laugh beside me. “What if we want to have a little fun, sir?”

  Lincoln steps up to Lutz, a dangerous air settling around him. He speaks quietly, but threat hangs on every word. “Do you think you’re here to have fun, Novice?”

  Lutz’s grin quickly disappears. “No, sir.”

  “Correct, Novice. You’re here because pain is going to be your friend. Fatigue will be your friend. Insecurity will be your friend. Some of you will embrace it…”

  Lincoln glances at me as if he thinks I’m one of the few who will embrace pain wearing a smile on my face.

  He quickly adjusts his focus, saying, “Others… will be sent home.”

  He steps back and Ridley takes over again. “For the remainder of the day you will get settled into your dorm and supplied with new clothing. After that, dinner. Tomorrow morning, you will arrive back in this courtyard at five a.m. without exception.” He eyes each of us as if he expects us to disobey him already. “Now follow me to your dorm.”

  Master Gareth interrupts for the first time, holding up his hand. “I will take them today, Ridley.”

  Ridley appears surprised, but gives a quick nod, stepping aside for the Master. “Of course, Master Gareth.”

  Gareth strides away across the courtyard and the Superiors quickly hustle us after him. I follow on Slade’s heels, sticking close to him for the only reason that he’s the only Novice who hasn’t ogled my breasts yet. And because of the look on his face when Master Gareth was taunting me. I can’t trust Slade, but of all the men in this group, he is my safest bet.