Pieces of Hate (The Assassins Series)
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During the Dark Ages, a thing named Temple slaughtered Gabriel's family. A man with snake eyes charged him to pursue the assassin wherever he may strike next, and destroy him. Gabriel never believed he’d still be following Temple almost a thousand years later.
Because Temple may be a demon, the man with snake eyes cursed Gabriel with a life long enough to hunt him down. Now he has picked up Temple's scent again. The Caribbean sea is awash with pirate blood, and in such turmoil the outcome of any fight is far from certain.
Free bonus novelette:
Dead Man’s Hand
In the wilderness of the American West, the assassin is set to strike again. Despite his centuries-long curse, Gabriel is still but a man, scarred and bitter. The town of Deadwood has seen many such men... though it’s never seen anything quite like the half-demon known as Temple.
"The action is cutlass-sharp and the encounters between Gabriel and Temple are both brutal and chilling." -- Publishers Weekly
I went around shouting about other people’s business, maybe your man would be forewarned,” the captain said. “There’s such a thing as privacy, and I’ll honour that. But I still don’t like you, stranger. You have a smell I don’t know, and a look in your eye . . . like a snake. You’re a worrying son of a bitch, and you carry a cloud of doom with you.” “Then throw me overboard,” Gabriel said. The captain laughed, the loud false roar once again. “A brave cur, too! No, I’ll keep you on board, if you
out to sea. “Those pistols primed, stranger?” the captain asked through the inevitable smile. “Only for one man,” Gabriel said. “Well if this is a Spanish ship, or something else worth taking, there’ll be fighting before sundown.” “But not my fighting.” The captain bared his teeth, hand moving to his cutlass. “If there’s fighting on this ship, it belongs to everyone, passenger or crew alike.” “I can look after myself,” Gabriel said. “Is that good enough?” The quartermaster nudged Parker
renewed to its former black-magic glory, and the feeling when he had reached out and touched that sigil carved into the tree. Everything had changed, then, and he had ceased being the old Gabriel. He had become someone and something else. Six centuries ago, and still he barely understood what had happened to him. He had met Temple a dozen times since, and failed to kill him every time. Perhaps beyond vengeance, beyond death, there was even more to consider. He only hoped that when the time came
in while the meal was still cooking, eating with an appetite I had hardly ever seen before. He did not look my way, did not keep a hand close to either gun. Either he perceived no threat in me whatsoever, or he had never intended me harm in the first place. “Those wounds,” I said. He nodded and muttered, “Temple,” showering me with crumbs of bread. “So you want revenge? That’s the main reason guys like you come to Deadwood, I guess. Revenge.” “Guys like me?” He had raised the eyebrow above
dusk. His face was black with blood but his one good eye sparkled, as if catching the sunset all for itself. “You!” he said. I was in no state to run, and I knew it would do no good. So I leaned against the wall of the livery stable and let him come to me. He moved through the shadows as if they were his own. “I need you to relay a message,” he said. “What message? For who?” But I already knew where I would be going that night. “Go to Temple. Tell him I’m here. He knows already, but I need to