Isekai Assassin: Volume 1 Read online

  I knelt and struck the pommel of my sword against his temple, silencing him.

  With him knocked out, and the man with my knife stuck in him gone, I'd cleared the warehouse. All that was left was the offices.

  Dorset travels with three guards, so that leaves four men and Dorset. Close quarters means knife work. The guards inside may have pistols, but I shouldn't worry about them in such a small room.

  I walked past the dead men's gambling table. Stacks of coins were scattered in disarray on the barrel.

  The hallway I entered was narrow, with only one wooden door at the very end. It was solid oak reinforced with metal, but there were gaps in its construction, namely the half-inch tall crack between the door and the threshold.

  Loud voices carried a conversation to my ears.

  "It's fucking McKinley, I'm not getting paid enough for this!" one man shouted.

  "What the hell else do I pay you for?" came an older, robust voice. Dorset. "I don’t care if the devil himself is outside. Get out there and kill the sonuvabitch, goddammit!"

  There was the scuffling of feet, and the door burst open. Three men rushed me.

  Fools.

  In the cramped, narrow corridor, they were nearly tripping over themselves to get to me. They crowded each other as they approached.

  It made killing them so much simpler.

  I drew another throwing knife and aimed at the man on the far right. The blade buried itself in a scruffy, blond-haired man's trachea. He toppled over, clutching at his dripping throat, and, in the process, knocked over another man, taking him to the floor.

  The last man standing swung at me with his sword. I parried the downward swing and whipped my blade across his neck and continued forward.

  As the final man tried to stand, I kicked him across the jaw. The thug went sprawling. While he was stunned, I picked up the knife I'd left in the other man’s neck and brought the hilt sharply against the back of his head.

  He gave a soft groan and then was still.

  I cleaned the knife on his coat and walked into Dorset's office.

  Like most of the affluent wealthy, Dorset prided himself on status and luxury, and his office reflected that.

  Rich hues of cherry wood dominated the floor and walls while a golden chandelier hung overhead, its hundred candles banished all but the most stubborn patches of darkness in the room.

  Dorset himself sat behind a large wooden desk with intricate carvings rising from the legs and crawling over the front until they reached the top.

  He was a pudgy little man in an extravagant black suit. Age and abundance had worn him down to a shadow of his former self. Thin, balding, gray hair and a weak chin were his most respectable features.

  His watery blue eyes bulged as I strolled through the door. Dorset hastily looked over at the last remaining guard. The one with my knife still entrenched in his shoulder.

  "I'll be having my knife back," I said, turning to him.

  He nodded and, with a grimace, pulled it free. The man bit his lips hard enough to bleed while trying not to cry out from the pain. Blood ran through his fingers as he walked over and handed it to me, hilt first.

  "Thank you," I said and slammed it against his head.

  He stumbled, leaning against the wall as he slipped unconscious. His head left a smear of blood on the wall as he slid to the ground.

  I held the bloody knife in my hand and stepped over the body toward Dorset.

  Dorset's eyes followed the crimson steel like a man hypnotized. Sweat beaded on his wrinkled forehead. He threw a hand up, showcasing thick, jeweled rings on each finger.

  "Elias, be reasonable here. Surely we can come to an arrangement. I'll pay ten times whatever you're making for the contract. You know I'm good for it."

  "Oh, I know." I nodded, pointing my knife at him. "And you know my rules, having hired me yourself.” I turned to his right arm, the one he'd kept under the table. "So why don't you quit stalling already and take out the pistol you have hidden."

  Dorset blinked, dumbstruck. He growled and cursed me, pulling his hand up quickly.

  Clutched in his meaty grip was an ornate flintlock. It was crafted from polished ivory with gold filigree—a work of art rather than a weapon.

  He grinned. "You cocky little shit. That arrogance of yours is going to be the death of you. You remember when I told you that?" He cocked the pistol. "Looks like I was right. Shame."

  Dorset squeezed the trigger.

  There was a small flash of sparks as the flint struck, and then the room went still.

  He looked to the pistol and then to me, panic dawning on his face. His terror was so intense it was palpable.

  "While I was casing the place last night, I took the opportunity to replace the gunpowder with sand." I smiled, leaning closer. "Now, which one of us is arrogant again?”

  "You son of a bitch!" he shouted and stood from his expensive leather chair.

  My knife took him in the chest before he could take a single step. It slid through his tailored black suit with ease.

  Dorset froze. He looked down at the knife sticking out of him.

  “Elias?”

  Then he stumbled, taking the chair and himself to the ground.

  I crossed the room and knelt beside Dorset. I'd nicked his heart. He'd bleed out in minutes.

  Death was inevitable, but I didn't deal in half measures.

  “It’s nothing personal.” I pulled the knife free from his chest, slit his throat, and then plunged it into his body twice more to be sure.

  Blood splashed across the walls and floor, gushing out of his body and inching toward my boot. Dorset heaved a gurgled sigh. His death rattle choked off by the blood.

  I plucked Dorset's signet ring from his corpse and stood. My word was good enough these days, but I still liked having proof.

  The Dorset job is complete.

  I looked down at my knives and debated on if it'd be worth retrieving them. They'd served me well, but I'd used them a lot tonight, and it was probably better to just replace them.

  Not like I can’t afford it.

  As soon as I returned to my employer, I'd get the rest of my payment, and I could leave London. I've lingered long enough. Should’ve left a year ago. It's time to move on.

  When I reached the door, there was a low whistle from behind me.

  I turned on instinct and threw my last knife. It sailed through the air in a perfect spin toward the sound. As I turned, I found a man leaning on the desk. My knife clutched in his hand, an inch away from his face.

  "Oh! That was a close one. Nearly got me there," he said.

  He was very plain looking. Brown hair and green eyes. Neither handsome nor ugly, just there, like I could walk right past him on the street and never remember his face.

  The man wore a brown shirt and black pants, simple but refined and expertly tailored to his thin frame.

  He smiled at me, his eyes flashing with delight. "Hello, Elias. It's nice to meet you. I'm a big fan of your work." His smile deepened. "We need to talk."

  Chapter 2- A Request I Can't Refuse

  My surprise guest unnerved the hell out of me.

  "Who are you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm and steady.

  Which was a stark contrast to my rampant mental state. He wasn't there a second ago, and he would've made a sound if he'd entered through the door. There isn't another entrance or exit, I checked.

  The only other option was he'd been hiding under the desk, but I'd have seen him when I killed Dorset.

  No. He hadn't been in the room until just a second ago. I was sure of that.

  Which left me with absolutely nothing to go off of.

  I don't have a clue. But that won't help me now.

  Focus.

  My thoughts went from turbulent to straightforward in less than a second. I assessed the situation and filed away the details. I'd deal with them in due time, or I'd be dead, in which case they wouldn't matter anymore.

  The plain-loo
king man smiled at my question. His brown eyes twinkling. "An interesting question, to be sure. Though my name wouldn't mean anything to you, even if you could hear it without it melting your brain…you can call me Zaphkiel. It works as well as any other for now.

  "Think of me as a friend…or an ally at the very least."

  His posture was relaxed, nonthreatening. Zaphkiel crossed his arms and leaned heavily on the wooden desk.

  Everything about him told me that he wasn't a threat. Still, from one predator to another, I knew instinctively, on some dark, primal level, that he could inflict a level of violence upon my person that I couldn't even comprehend.

  I'd be dead if he wished me dead.

  It was a rather humbling experience for an assassin of my caliber.

  "What can I do for you, Zaphkiel? You certainly don't need me to kill anyone for you."

  He cocked his head to the side, a wide smile blossoming across his face. "And here I thought I'd done a good job hiding my presence." He paused, and the overwhelming pressure flowing from him stopped completely. "My apologies, but the fact that you could tell is a good sign. Means I was right about you."

  Zaphkiel stood and walked around the desk and grabbed Dorset's ivory flintlock.

  From seemingly out of nowhere, he pulled gunpowder, shot, cloth, and a ramrod. He placed all the materials in front of me.

  "Could you load this for me?" he asked, sliding the gun toward me. "Pardon the rudeness, but I promise you'll understand in a second."

  This entire situation was strange, but I couldn’t deny that my curiosity was piqued. I took the pistol, unloaded it, and then cleaned, replaced the powder, and loaded another shot.

  “You can learn a lot about a man from how he treats his weapon,” Zaphkiel said, watching me work.

  I shrugged. “Dorset was a rich fool who could barely operate his firearm, let alone clean and care for it properly.”

  He smirked as I finished and set it back on the desk.

  “You take pride in the weapons you wield, and it shows.”

  “Not my gun, but I’ll take the compliment.” I frowned, fighting the urge to cross my arms. “Was that all you wanted?”

  “Not quite.” Zaphkiel grinned, shaking his head. “Pick it back up.”

  “Fine.” When the pistol was back in hand, I looked up at Zaphkiel. “What now?”

  He leaned up from the desk and turned to face me. He motioned to the flintlock. “Now, I want you to shoot me.”

  “What?”

  “Shoot me.” He grinned wide. “I’ll be fine, promise.”

  I shook my head. “No.” I put the gun back on the desk and took a step back.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Because I don’t kill without reason. It’s a rule of mine.”

  “Oh?” He marched toward me. “Fine.”

  Before I could react, he backhanded me. My head snapped to the side as the impact echoed around us.

  “You’re a piss-poor killer who’s only in it for cheap thrills─”

  The pistol was in my hand in the blink of an eye, and I pressed it under Zaphkiel’s chin and pulled the trigger.

  The gunshot in the small room was deafening, and my ears rang as I stared blankly at him.

  Zaphkiel stood in the same spot, smoke rising from the barrel, smiling at me. There was a hole in the ceiling from the shot, but he was very much not a corpse on the ground.

  "You're not human."

  He nodded. "Got it in one."

  It was the only logical conclusion, well, either that or I'd gone insane. And personally, I'd rather err on the side that wouldn't have me locked up in an asylum.

  I paused and looked at Zaphkiel in a new light. Nothing about him, save for his previous aura, screamed inhuman.

  "If you're not human, what are you?" I asked.

  Zaphkiel grinned, his brown eyes flashed red for a split second before turning back to their original color.

  "I’m a god, or as close to one as you’re ever likely to see.”

  I rubbed at my chin, staring him down. “And what does a god need from an assassin, I wonder?”

  He chuckled and hopped up on the desk, grabbing the silver letter opener next to him. “It’s actually the opposite. I’m here to do something for you.” Zaphkiel twirled the letter opener around his fingers, balancing it on the tip of his index finger. “You’ve kicked over a very large, very nasty hornet's nest by killing Dorset.”

  “I’m aware,” I said with a shrug. “But the underworld will bounce back. A new lord will step up and assume control.”

  “That’s very true.” He flicked the knife up in the air. It spun end over end as it rose and then fell, sticking deep into the mahogany desk. “But it’s the power vacuum in the short term that should worry you.”

  “I’ll be long gone by then.”

  I wasn’t worried. I knew exactly what I was doing. My employer had been making moves for weeks, getting everything in position to take over Dorset’s enterprises. All he needed was Dorset out of the way.

  He’d promised me a small fortune, and paid half upfront. All I had to do was collect the rest, and I was a ghost.

  Even if he tried to double-cross me, I had that covered as well.

  I’d actually planned for it.

  Zaphkiel shook his head. “If you walk out that door, you’ll be dead in fourteen hours. Lord Graham put a contract on you.”

  “And?” I raised my hands. “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve had a price on my head—spouses, family members…former clients. I’ve made a lot of enemies over the years, and I’ve handled them all. Why is this any different?”

  “Because Graham has already dispatched Black Elizabeth and Marcel. He’s worried about loose ends and knows you’re a threat. He aims to see you dead.”

  His words hit me hard enough for my breath to catch in my throat and a twinge of fear to run down my spine.

  Marcel and Liz? They wouldn’t be on the same contract unless they were working together.

  “Damn,” I muttered, pacing in a circle.

  I can take either of them alone…but both of them together? I don’t know. And it wouldn’t just be them. Marcel runs with a gang of killers.

  Zaphkiel is right. I probably won’t survive if they both go up against me.

  “You wouldn’t tell me this unless you’re also offering me a way out.”

  “Of course,” he replied. “Though not in the way you’re probably thinking.”

  I held my hand up and nodded. “What’s your price?”

  “So direct. It’s refreshing.” He chuckled, and his smile grew dark and devious—a shark's smile. “You actually had it right at the beginning. I need you to kill someone for me.” He paused. “Several someones, actually. Think of it as a very long-term contract. You’re going to be very busy soon.”

  I nodded along, taking in his words and dismissing them. He seems to be telling the truth, but not the whole truth. There’s too much he isn’t saying—a lot of missing information. No way in hell am I just going to take his word for everything.

  Even if he wasn’t outright lying to me, I didn’t trust him. I was going to verify what he’d said before I did anything.

  If I have a contract on me. That won’t just vanish if I leave the city. I’ll need to dispatch Graham if he’s the one who’s behind it.

  Can’t complete a contract if the holder is dead after all.

  “Okay, Zaphkiel.” I leaned back against the wall and crossed my arms. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He smirked and stood from the desk. “A lot, to be honest, but we don’t have the time to go over everything right now.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not good enough. Give me something, or I walk.”

  Zaphkiel shook his head, sighing into his palm. When he looked back up, he let out a short bark of laughter.

  “Fine. Guess I can’t fault you for it. The location I need you to travel to is a bit far away.”

  “And?” I ra
ised an eyebrow, tapping my fingers on the wood behind me.

  He sighed once more. “It’s not on Earth.”

  “What?” His words gave me pause, and I had to stop and make sure I’d heard him right, but of course, I had. I threw my hands up. “Okay, that’s new.”

  If he is a god, then I guess it’s in the realm of possibility. But that’s a bit too much for me to process right now.

  I held up my hand and stopped him. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, but…well, you heard yourself. Our conversation in the last five minutes should have me questioning my sanity right now. Not to mention we’re standing in the room of the man I just killed with more than a few dead and unconscious bodies in the warehouse. I should already be far away from here.

  “I’m going to check out what you said about Lord Graham. See if you’re telling the truth.”

  “That’s a foolish move.” Zaphkiel shook his head and rubbed at his chin. You’ll be dead in─”

  “Fourteen hours. I remember. It won’t take me three to gear back up at my safehouse and meet Lord Graham.

  “If you’re telling the truth, then I’ll go with you. But god or human. I’m not going to accept everything you’ve told me on blind faith.”

  I was about to leave when a thought struck me.

  Something I desperately needed to know.

  “What happens in fourteen hours? How do I die?”

  “Bloody. Alone and exhausted. Marcel leads you into an ambush. He hired a second group to blindside you after you wear yourself down killing Black Elizabeth. He surrounds you in bodies, and they tear you apart.”

  Zaphkiel sighed and with a subtle shake of his head, walked towards me and held his hand out. “I disagree with your decision, but I understand it. I can’t make you take the deal, but if you do choose to take me up on my offer, call my name, and I’ll come to you.”

  There was only the barest second of hesitation before I took his hand and shook it. I let go and was out of the room before his arm could drop by his side.

  There were four exits to Dorset’s warehouse, and I took the one that led to the back near the water. There would be no one to see me at this time of night.