Sharpest Edge: Mercenaries and Magic

by Alessa Thorn

  “I just knew you would agree to be my mom!” Athena said triumphantly, throwing bloody arms around Izabella and making her squeal in disgust. Kon was giving them all a bemused look.

  “Yes, this is the family you’re marrying into,” Silas told him, deadpan.

  Kon grinned. “I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

  Silas looked at the women still with their arms around each other. “Yeah, me neither.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I believe that all monsters and villains deserve their happy endings. I prefer my clothes black, eyeliner winged, and books full of hot romance.

  Come say hi to me on Instagram, or keep track of all of the gossip early by subscribing to my blog newsletter at:

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  Thank you for reading ‘SHARPEST EDGE’ if you loved it please consider leaving me a short review or a rating on Amazon as it helps other readers find my books.

  Need something more to read? Keep reading for a sample of ASTERION.

  ASTERION

  PROLOGUE

  The New Greece

  Sing, O’ Muse, of the seasons of the world and how all that was lost was found again.

  Sing, of how gods and mythical creatures once roamed the lands of Greece, and of how Man became powerful, and the gods were forced into hiding.

  Sing, of when Greece’s economy collapsed and the land was on fire with the turmoil man’s governance had wrought.

  Sing, of how the gods returned to build a new world from the ashes.

  Sing, O’ Muse, of the new city of Styx, and the monsters that govern its underworld.

  Sing to me a new song, of a Minotaur, a Labyrinth, and a Woman…

  1.

  Ariadne’s hands were aching by the time the man’s final breath came out in a wheeze of feta, onions, and sour wine.

  “Gross,” she muttered, as she unwound the braid of golden threads from around his fat, sweaty neck. She snapped off one of the threads from the braid before she twisted it back around her wrist, turning it into a harmless bracelet once more.

  Using the broken golden thread, she tied the dead man’s hands together in an elaborate cat’s cradle. It was her modus operandi, a special way of letting his associates know just who was responsible for this kill. The cradle formed the symbol for ‘abuser’ in a language only Ariadne and her dead sister knew, her way of honoring Lia’s restless shade in the afterlife.

  Even gentle Lia would have approved of this death.

  Ariadne scattered photos of Botsaris’s beaten and raped wife around his body. Botsaris had been a pig of a man, and he’d squealed like one as he died. He’d given names, deals, offered her money, but she had held on until he stopped thrashing.

  Ariadne shoved the little black dress she’d been wearing into her oversized designer tote, before pulling out a bundle containing her tights and a singlet top and putting them on. Without looking at the bloated Botsaris, Ariadne slipped out the back door of the house overlooking Korinthos beach.

  Botsaris had been a cheating, abusive bastard, so no one would look twice at the blonde as she walked off the property and into the still busy nighttime streets.

  Ariadne dumped the tote bag, and the blonde wig into a bin at the train station and cursed under breath when she saw the red lines across her calloused palms. Botsaris had fought harder than she expected, and even with her callouses, she would end up with some bruising. She had no time to worry about it as she ran to catch her train.

  Wedged between a group of teens and two arguing old women, Ariadne settled back into her comfortable anonymity and watched the lights of the city of Styx grow closer.

  Almost twenty years beforehand, the ancient city of Corinth had been burned to the ground in the civil war. The collapse of Greece’s economy, and the riots and military action that followed, had left many of the major cities in ruined war zones.

  Corinth had been one of the worst affected. That was when Hades, the Lord of the Underworld, arrived and claimed the rubble that had been left. In less than twenty years, the city had been rebuilt and was turning a profit again.

  Hades wasn’t the only Old God that had come out of hiding, but the new city of Styx recovered the fastest, and Greece’s new currency, the Nea Drachmae, had come pouring in.

  Ariadne had her doubts as to whether the god of the dead thing was true, but she did know they had to be something other. Hades had been prominent in the news since the Great Collapse, and whenever the cameras managed the rare shot of him, he still looked like a sleek forty-something businessman.

  Whatever Hades was, his media queen Medusa was made of the same stuff. CEO of Serpentine Industries, her skyscraper sat only a few floors lower than Hades’s own pillar of black stone and steel. She ran a constant PR campaign worldwide to encourage trade and tourism to Styx, and it worked. Her blood-red hair and green eyes were famous the world over.

  As for the rumor that she had snakes in her hair, Ariadne had never seen them in any of Medusa’s news programs. She was a recluse, but with the internet at her feet, Medusa didn’t ever have to leave Serpentine Tower again.

  Like most kids in the Hellas District, Ariadne had grown up in the shadow of those two monstrous towers and with the rumors about the members of the Court of Styx.

  There was a running joke internationally that Hades had come back to make the New York City of Greece and had ended up with Gotham instead. The people who lived in Styx didn’t find this joke amusing because they knew that Hades Acheron would eat the toughest of Gotham for breakfast before picking his teeth with Batman’s bones.

  Only the tough survived on the streets of Styx, but despite its dark underbelly, Ariadne still loved the chaotic, violent, and often beautiful sprawl of it.

  Ariadne made it back to her apartment just as the sun was rising. It was a tiny one-bedroom in a slightly less dodgy neighborhood than the one she was born in.

  It was the one place in the world that felt like home. She had filled it with pieces of furniture and art from thrift shops and even managed to keep a house plant alive. It wasn’t much. It certainly wasn’t the opulent luxury she’d be living in if she had stayed at the Temple, but at least she didn’t feel like every moment she was there, her debt was rising.

  Ariadne had a long shower and climbed into bed, knowing she had precious few hours before Minos decided to summon her to the Temple for a full debriefing of the Botsaris job.

  “One day soon, you’ll never have to answer that bastard’s call again,” she said to herself like she did every day.

  I’ll kill him, Lia, I promise.

  Curling into a ball under the blanket, Ariadne closed her eyes and let the nightmares take her.

  Ariadne managed to get five hours of sleep before she was in a taxi, heading into the city center. The Diogenes District consisted of six blocks in the very heart of Styx, and it had more money than the rest of the city combined. It housed not only the Acheron and Serpentine towers but also five banks, two courthouses, and more overpriced jewelry and luxury item stores than one city needed.

  It never ceased to surprise Ariadne that the city she knew disappeared as soon as the taxi entered the ‘Dio Bubble’ and everything was clean, shiny, and expensive looking.

  The taxi stopped in front of the Temple, and she paid the man a handful of drachmae before climbing out of the car.

  The Temple had earned its name thanks to the row of shining marble columns that stretched out along the façade of the mansion. Minos had grasped firmly to the nickname, even going as far as to have bronze lettering bolted into the marble to announce it to the world. What he didn’t want the world to know was that the Temple was the training ground for Greece’s deadliest assassins.

  Those that were rich enough or connected enough knew what the Temple really was behind its pretty architecture. Everyone else thought it was a finishing school for underprivileged girls, run by the philanthropist Minos Karros.

  Minos had his grubby hands in a
lot of Greece’s pies, from the stock market and real estate to oil refinery and shipping, not to mention that all the little priestesses that were raised at the Temple owed Minos a hefty debt. Ariadne felt like she would be a hundred by the time she paid him off.

  Schooling her face to pleasant neutrality, Ariadne walked through the polished black and silver doors and into the cold darkness of the mansion.

  Girls walked together in huddled groups, all wearing the pleated white chitons with thick black belts that were the Temple uniform. Lynx, one of the teachers in weaponry, gave Ariadne a nod in greeting.

  “The master is in the training rooms, Spindle,” she said in greeting.

  “Thank you, Lynx,” Ariadne replied politely, ignoring the watching students’ wide eyes.

  Once they graduated, they would be able to refer to the other assassins by their chosen names, but until then, they were restricted to titles only. Minos said it was a sign of respect to be referred to by their titles, but Ariadne saw it as just another way to prevent the girls in his charge from developing any personal attachments. If he could’ve found a viable excuse to give them all a number, Ariadne was sure he would have.

  The training room was a rectangle pit of sand in a sunken floor. Minos was still physically fit enough to take on even his best students and liked to oversee certain aspects of their training himself.

  Ariadne paused by a wooden pillar to watch him hold a girl’s arm in a lock behind her back. She was about ten years old, and her small face was red with anger and embarrassment.

  “Think, girl, how do you get out of this without a broken arm?” Minos demanded, sidestepping the kick the girl aimed at his knee.

  Ariadne’s right arm ached, and she fought the urge to rub the place where he’d broken hers around the same age. Minos still hadn’t seen her, but the girl’s pain-filled eyes rested on hers, and Ariadne made a small movement with her left hand.

  The girl’s left hand tightened into a fist and swung it back in a powerful strike aimed between Minos’s legs. The strike cracked hard against the cup he was wearing, and he let her go with a jerk of surprise.

  The girl rolled and was up on her feet in seconds, the folds of her training chiton smeared with dirt and sweat. Ariadne clapped her hands loudly, and Minos’s furious attention turned to her.

  “Well done, girl. I’ve found nothing slows down a handsy man like a good strike in the balls,” said Ariadne.

  “That’s a compliment coming from the High Priestess herself,” Minos replied as he straightened out of his fighting stance.

  The girl turned to Ariadne and rapped her small chest twice with her fist. “Spindle.”

  “Go on, you have javelin training with Lynx,” Minos said to the girl, and she bowed before hurrying away. Minos watched her go before turning back to his visitor. “If she can keep her temper, she will be good priestess one day.”

  “A bit of fire is a good thing.”

  “Only if I can control it,” Minos said as he joined her at the top step. “How did the Botsaris contract go?”

  “Easy. The man’s wandering eye made him a gullible target.”

  “It was in the news this morning. Your cat’s cradle has all of Botsaris’s associates shitting their pants and thinking they are next. I can’t say I ever approved of you doing it, but it’s become a symbol to fear, and that I can appreciate.”

  Ariadne laughed, just as he expected her to. Laugh at his jokes, make him think she loved and respected him, and keep pretending that she didn’t want to crush his eyes between her fingers.

  “His associates should’ve taken the photos as evidence that he was killed because he was an abusive fuck, not for his illegal business dealings.”

  “They are thinking about their own fat hides. I’ll let them squirm a bit before I make them pay me for the evidence I have against them.”

  That was the price Botsaris’s own wife had to pay for the Temple’s services. Enough evidence for Minos to blackmail his partners and take a nice cut of their future earnings. The man was diabolical sometimes, but Ariadne couldn’t deny he knew how to squeeze out every drachmae he was owed. She followed him to his plush office and waited patiently until he told her to sit down.

  “I do wish you’d come back to the safety of the Temple, little Spindle,” Minos said as he sat down behind an oak desk.

  “You know me. I like my privacy and the quiet after living in the dorms with argumentative girls for so long.”

  “You know I wouldn’t expect you to sleep in the dorms! You’d have a lovely space, bigger and much safer than that rat’s nest you currently live in.”

  Ariadne bit her tongue. At least the rat’s nest was honest, and no one would try sneaking into her room in the middle of the night.

  Minos opened his laptop and put in his password. Ariadne and half of Greece would’ve loved to get their hands on Minos’s laptop. Botsaris’s associates weren’t the only people he had dirt on, and if they all weren’t scared of it getting leaked, or having a visit from one of his priestesses, Minos would’ve been a dead man years ago.

  “The Botsaris contract should prove to be the most lucrative one of the year. Your cut will make a nice little dent in what you owe me, and as always, a little bit extra in my Spindle’s account so she can keep her freedoms,” Minos mocked.

  “Thank you, Minos. You know your Spindle will always come when you call her.” She gave him a sugary smile that made him sigh and nod.

  “I know, my darling, but a father worries when his favorite daughter is living unprotected in this dangerous city.”

  Ariadne held out her hand to pat his gently, and he lifted it to inspect the braided gold bracelet looped around her wrist.

  “You are going to have to replenish the threads soon.”

  “Well, someone has been keeping me busy the last few months,” Ariadne replied. She slowly removed her hand from his and fought the urge to wipe it down her black pants.

  “That’s because you are my best, Spindle. Styx is changing, and I’m old enough to feel when the city is restless. I tolerate your freedoms for the time being, but if I start to get worried, I will recall you back to the Temple permanently. Understand?”

  Ariadne felt the warning in his words settle like a cold weight in her gut. Was letting her have the apartment just another of his fucking tests? She wouldn’t put it past the prick.

  “Of course, pater. I will always do what you think is best,” Ariadne said, ever the dutiful, devoted daughter.

  He smiled at her indulgently, and she imagined the day when she’d have her debt paid off, and she wouldn’t have to suffer through any more of his bullshit.

  It was a favorite fantasy of hers, and it was right up there with the moment she’d wrap her golden braid around his neck and watch him squirm. She would get the revenge that she had spent the last fifteen years cultivating and enjoy every minute it took for him to die.

  “I have been working you hard. How about a week off? No summons, just regain your strength.”

  “That sounds wonderful. Thank you. Is there anything else you need before I head out again?” Ariadne asked.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. I’ve got a gift for you,” Minos said, opening the bottom drawer of his desk and pulling out a small black urn. Every thought in Ariadne’s head shut down as he offered it to her.

  “Lia. I should’ve given you these a long time ago. I was waiting for the right moment when I knew that I could trust you explicitly.”

  “I thought you would’ve disposed of these,” Ariadne said, trying to keep the tremble from her voice.

  There was a long wall in the Temple gardens that his best assassins got put to rest. Like the majority of the acolytes, Lia hadn’t even made it to graduation.

  “I was going to, but I knew how much she meant to you. Take them and honor her shade as you see fit.”

  Ariadne took the cold jar and gripped it tightly. “Thank you, pater. Is there anything else you require of me?”

  Mi
nos looked her over in a non-fatherly manner. “Maybe stop by the kitchens and eat something. I worry about what you’re putting into your body out there.”

  “That sounds like a great idea. I haven’t eaten breakfast this morning.”

  Ariadne had reached for the door when he cleared his throat. “One other thing, Spindle. If you interfere with my training again, like you did today, I’ll break more than the girl’s arm. Understand?”

  “Yes, pater. I’m sorry,” Ariadne said and left his office before she climbed over the desk and shoved her fist down his throat.

  Ariadne was still fuming by the time she made it back to her apartment in the Hellas District.

  With the anger came the inevitable hopelessness that no matter how much money she saved or how hard she fought, Minos was never going to let her go.

  Giving her Lia’s ashes was just another move in their silent game of wills.

  “Don’t forget your mail, Aria,” the ancient landlady demanded from her desk in the foyer.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Contos,” Ariadne said politely. It was so rare for her to get any mail apart from the marketing flyers of the local shops that she had a habit of not looking in her box for weeks. She made a show of unlocking the box to appease the still watching Mrs. Contos, and she was surprised to find a yellow package inside of it.

  Ariadne stilled when she noticed it was addressed in her full birth name, knowledge she thought only she and Minos had.

  It would be impossible for anyone to identify her from fingerprints or DNA left at crime scenes. Minos paid good money to ensure that his priestesses didn’t exist in any police or medical databases.

  Ariadne had burned her fingerprints off years ago, back when she believed all of Minos’s bullshit and wanted to impress him with her devotion.

  Ariadne placed Lia’s ashes on the mantel of the broken fireplace, turned on her coffee pot, and stared at the package on her kitchen counter. If someone knew who she was and what she had done, then the envelope could contain anthrax or any other number of nasties sent for revenge.