The assassins saint, p.1
The Assassin's Saint, page 1
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
A Feverish Heart
Chapter 2
The Blood Exchange
Chapter 3
Taking a Punch
Chapter 4
The Guild’s Bounties
Chapter 5
Clinging to Life
Chapter 6
Taking a Leap of Faith
Chapter 7
The Guiding Light
Chapter 8
Birds of a Feather
Chapter 9
Revenge
Chapter 10
A Means to Escape
Chapter 11
Never Again
Chapter 12
The Barkeep’s Request
Chapter 13
Moral Compass
Chapter 14
Confessions and Consequences
Chapter 15
Recipes Worth More than Gold
Chapter 16
Tenderness of the Heart
Chapter 17
Terahime’s Trade District
Chapter 18
What Warms the Heart
Chapter 19
A Means of Normal
Chapter 20
Sleight of Hand
Chapter 21
Walls Forgotten
Chapter 22
Secrets Revealed
Chapter 23
Fanning the Flames
Chapter 24
Another Fight, Another Moment
Chapter 25
Heritage of the Fallen Clan
Chapter 26
Under the Mask
Chapter 27
The Smallest Fire
Chapter 28
Out of the Shadows
Chapter 29
The Rattling of Chains
Chapter 30
Ghosts from the Past
Chapter 31
Regrets and Resolve
Chapter 32
A Name Abandoned
Chapter 33
Last Challenger Standing
Chapter 34
Blood Sent Boiling
About the Author
Book Club Discussion Questions
The Assassin’s Saint: Dante’s Ascension Book 3
Copyright © 2025 V.C. Willis. All rights reserved.
Published By: 4 Horsemen Publications, Inc.
4 Horsemen Publications, Inc.
PO Box 417
Sylva, NC 28779
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Cover & Typesetting by Valerie Willis
Edited by JM Paquette
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All brands, quotes, and cited work respectfully belongs to the original rights holders and bear no affiliation to the authors or publisher.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2025939639
Paperback ISBN-13: 979-8-8232-0904-5
Hardcover ISBN-13: 979-8-8232-0905-2
Audiobook ISBN-13: 979-8-8232-0907-6
Ebook ISBN-13: 979-8-8232-0906-9
Dedication
This one goes out to the readers who took a chance on Dante and John and have joined me for yet another round of these two. To the folks who bought a copy at my table events and circled back to gush with me over my imaginary friends, especially that adorable man buying books for his husband who needed more, thank you! For those heart-fluttering conversations over Instagram with @imperfetto_tesoro and how her cousin betrayed us, swapping from #TeamDante to #TeamJohn like my editor, LOL! BLASPHEMY!
Keep talking, keep reviewing, and I’ll keep writing!
#TeamDante4Eva
Chapter 1
A Feverish Heart
John’s recovery is testing my patience.
I’ve spent countless sleepless nights playing back my time spent in the library: the bliss of stolen sensual interludes interrupted by the rifle’s loud bang. Every time, my muscles tensed, the knots in my stomach unforgiving. How could I forget the way the gunpowder mingled with his blood like sour milk? The putrid scent lingered in my nostrils for months. He’d lost so much blood in the catacombs, amid the rats and filth, as we wandered aimlessly, unsure if we’d escape alive.
Had I been faster, stronger…
Again, I struggled to swallow the regrets as the old man’s advice became too real for comfort.
Remember, Dante. No man or god will ever be fast or powerful enough to counter the plan fate has in store for others and ourselves. You can play it out, rub the scars… The smell of tobacco as I watched those wrinkled fingers glide over the gruesome scar ripping across his neck sent chills through me. …but in the end, it’s the ones you can’t see that’ll kill you if you can’t learn to leave it in the past. Just promise me you won’t linger on the regrets, and make sure that boy doesn’t make that mistake either.
A cold wind shrieked past where I stood in the street. With winter pressing in, the ships were docked, and the taverns grew crowded. Despite Terahime being to the south where the weather stayed warmer for longer, they still weren’t free from the confines of winter’s peak. The ocean waves were brought to a stillness like nothing I had ever seen. Walking the town at night was haunting now that the subtle hush of waves was replaced by whistling winds. With the sea calm like a frozen lake, the sailors used this as a chance to clean hulls, repairing ships that had seen one storm too many during the summer months. Regardless, I was no longer counting the days until spring like I had done with the old man. No, my obsession now was counting the days John didn’t have to struggle to recover. What was left of him was a pale and weak husk, his lips chapped and broken. The infections wouldn’t cease nor the fevers that came and went without warning.
“Another fever,” I murmured as the steam rolled out of me. “Will this be the last? I doubt it…”
“Not right now.” Ducking into the tavern, I demanded, “One ale.”
The barmaid slid it to me before I could even pull a coin from my satchel, the benefits of having worked there as a bouncer on more than one occasion. The tavern’s off-canter orchestra was only matched by the pungent bitterness of sweat and fish. Sailors. With nowhere to go, the men and women of Terahime had their work cut out for them to entertain the hungry appetites of sailors needing to blow off steam.
How much energy does one need to man a ship on the seas to be so rowdy in this miserable cold? Granted, John normally is just as restless in winter, but right now he’s…
I choked down another long gulp of ale.
The bitterness on my tongue was nothing compared to the stinging in my chest. In the last few weeks, I had grown angry and guilt-ridden. I should have protected him. It should have been me who took that bullet, not him. He lost too much blood, and worse, the infection has been difficult to manage. Months. Of course it would be. He’s human. We crawled through the catacombs, then the sewers, and I took too long carrying him to safety through muddy shores instead of braving the main roads.
“What would you know about self-hatred?” I spat bitterly under my breath as I glared down into my drink. “My fangs itch just being in the room with him. Why do you think I’ve been distancing myself from the apothecary shop so much and doing odd-end work? It’s not just about the debt we’re stacking up. Besides, no one wants to willingly scrape barnacles in the freezing cold, even if I’m unfazed by it. It’s fitting punishment for me.”
The barkeep slid a fresh ale to me, and I whispered, “That makes two of us. I don’t care for the fact we can feel each other’s emotions so easily. Have you figured out why it happens sometimes and not any other times?”
Changing topics, I furrowed my brow. “What is the Blood Exchange?”
The barkeep caught the question and answered, though I had intended it for Ashton. “Oh, you don’t know? It’s a fighting circle the sailors host. Anyone is welcome to join. Get good enough, and they may ship you off to the Scarlett Isles to compete for the title of Blood Champion. Rumors say you get a lot of access to military power and an invitation to be part of the Queen’s harem. Ridiculous, no?”
“What kind of fighting?” Cautiously, I glanced at the sailors who came in many forms, races, and physiques. Many of them were heavily muscled, more so than any of the knights I was accustomed to training against. “Are weapons involved?”
“Fists only. Brute strength and bare-knuckle sorts.” The barkeep leaned on the table, his soft brown eyes looking me over. “I bet you might be able to stand your ground for a round or two. Rumor has it, it’s a great way to get a lot of coin quick.”
“Really? Coin, you say?” I need a lot of money if I want to make Ashton’s medicine and pay off my debts for room and board at Henry’s Apothecary Shop. Drumming my fingers on the counter, I took another glance at the sailors around me and marveled at how some were half my size while others were bigger in height and bulk. “How does one … join?”
“Go to the Sardine Warehouse at the far end of the docks. If the doors aren’t open due to the weather, just knock thrice, and someone there will be able to tell you more.” The barkeep topped off my ale and slid back the coin with a smug expression. “You going tonight to fight? If so, I’m going to need to bid on you. I’ve seen how much weight you can carry and imagine a punch from you is like getting hit by an anchor to the face.”
Smirking, I snorted before deciding. “You know. I think I will. Got some steam to blow off tonight.”
“Aye, that’s the spirit!” The barkeep walked away and grabbed a waitress, whispering something in her ear that brought her eyes to me.
I scowled as the empty mug banged on the bar top. “I’ve always used a weapon,” I confessed, muttering to Ashton.
The truth was I had fought with a weapon in hand for most of my life and even in recent battles. Most of my training is parrying until I grab an enemy’s weapon, but what do you do if none are there to grapple or use as my own? Now, I would be forced to really think of how to use my own body as the weapon. I mean, I’ll have to be careful. The one-time Red Wine pushed me to my limits, I left claw marks on the tree like some kind of animal. There’s something wilder about being a bloodeater, or perhaps a guardian daemon, as Ashton labels it. I should at least learn to fight without a weapon. If I had, I could have taken down Fallen Arbor back in the Taverns Way stables or in the library without injury. Hell, even the battlefield… yeah, I need to learn to use my fists.
As I left the tavern, the cold wintry blast slammed into me. I pulled a scarf over my nose and tugged on the heavy linen hood to keep the bite off my face. A snowstorm, though not fierce enough to deter the night life in Terahime. It had blown in from the ocean and filled the air with pattering snow. I adjusted Ashton across my back, and we marched for the docks. Lights and music poured from more of the inns, taverns, and the local Scarlett House as the last tendrils of sunlight abandoned its peachy hues, dwindling to give birth to the abyss of night. Busty women and beautiful men beckoned me from the balconies, but I had no desire to experience such a place again as bitter memories stirred.
Valiente, you scoundrel. I still refuse to forgive you for stealing a kiss from me and John.
Chapter 2
The Blood Exchange
The wind cut harsher at the docks as I worked my way to the last warehouse. A shard of golden light cut across the void of the frozen docks and ocean as shouts burst out. As I drew close, I spied an entire world I had been unaware of until now. The sweat and fish smell was more pungent than it had been at the tavern, but it faded against the sharp iron of blood.
Fists don’t mean no blood will spill, I suppose.
The sound of a hard thwack met my ears, and between the standing, shouting bodies, a man stumbled back and spat blood at his feet. A tooth bounced once as he wiped his mouth with a forearm. The other bore a swollen eye, ears thick like cauliflower from too many strikes.
These men fight like this all the time from the looks of them.
The man registering the fighters did a double take, waving me closer. “Get out of the cold, sir. Come, come! Still time to place a bet!”
I approached, the reprieve from the winds a warm welcome as the room’s heat slammed into me like a summer’s day on the farm.
They’ve been at this for hours. It’s hot as a blazing bonfire!
“You here to toss coin or fists?” asked the man before the shouting crowd called our attention back to the ring.
Swallowing, I watched as one of the men threw out a kick. His heel slammed into the cauliflower-eared man who wheezed as the air forcibly left him. Blood sputtered from between his gasping lips, but he stood his ground. The kicker twisted, an uppercut finishing what the kick had started as his opponent kept going with his assault. The roll of the fighter’s body, the ripple of muscles taut as his arm lifted upward was something I hadn’t seen before. A hard knock and snap of a jaw closing harshly echoed as the man arched back and hit the ground with a thud. Blood dribbled from a corner of his mouth where he lay before a few rushed forward to tend to him. The red-haired registrar patted my shoulder twice to catch my attention once more, and I threw back my hood, pulling my scarf down so I could speak loud and clear.
“I want to throw fists,” I demanded, my blood rushing, yearning for battle after what I had witnessed. I’ve felt empty since my last fight. This feeling of battle is … addictive and dangerous, but what am I to do to appease it? Perhaps Ashton knows that too.
“Oh? No weapons. Got to strip down to just the knickers.” The man stroked his ginger-colored beard, braided in a style I had seen many of the sailors wear before he gave me a half-cocked grin. “You still willing? That’s a rather big sword for a big guy. Can you part with it and use those fists only?”
Pulling Ashton from my back, I shoved him into the man’s arms. “Lose this and lose your life,” I growled and started to pull off layers of coats and garments. “I’ll fight. What’s the buy in?”
