The Edge of Temptation: Gods of the Undead 2 A Post-Apocalyptic Epic by Peter Meredith
Authors: Peter Meredith
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thin, he was also wiry and strong in a slippery sort of way. He twisted and squirmed like a bag of snakes.
“Stop!” Jack hissed. “Or I’ll...” The wrist Jack had thought pinned and useless shot to the right and suddenly the man’s hand was free. Jack didn’t freak or panic. He had everything but the wrist under control and he knew that in order to cast a spell, the man would have to cut himself. It was the only way to open a new port to his soul…and somehow he did cut himself.
He jerked his arm and suddenly his wrist was bleeding. Desperately, Jack grabbed the wrist in an iron grip but it was too late. “Shishin Ighn!” his enemy cried as a single drop of blood hit the floor of the shop. It formed one tiny glyph, intricate and beautiful. Up close, Jack saw that the character wasn’t Chinese; it was a proto-hieroglyph, only it had been rendered into something that resembled art by the man’s skill or power.
The glyph was altogether fascinating to Jack and its lines and swirls etched themselves into his memory, though why, he didn’t know. With the Chinese man’s fist glowing, and sparks arcing between his knuckle and Jack’s chest, he was never going to be able to use it.
All it would take for the man to kill Jack was a single touch.
Chapter 4
Akron, Ohio
Jack Dreyden
The tiny arcs of electricity stung the flesh and dazzled the eyes. They also glinted off metal and Jack saw how the man had cut himself. There was a razor blade woven into the fabric of his pants right at hip level. His clothing was what Jack would have described as “oriental.” They were loose, black, and soft. They were more like stylized pajamas than real street clothes.
And they shouldn’t have razor blades in them...unless the man had so thoroughly prepared himself for battle that he had considered every possibility, including being straddled by a much larger man. The implications were frightening.
“Who are you?” Jack asked in amazement as well as to buy time. His grip on the man’s wrist was becoming slick with sweat and the arcs of electricity were causing his muscles to twitch.
“I am man who send you on and for you it is no peace. Your soul is marked.”
There was no time to wonder about what that meant. Jack had been concentrating so much on the man’s wrist and the flashing power in his fist that he hadn’t kept control of himself. He was over balanced. Before he knew it, the smaller man had used Jack’s weight against him and he found himself under the Asian who pressed down with all his strength.
More arcs, more pain, another glint. The man didn’t have one razor blade sown into his clothes; he had many and in odd places. And he had one perilously close to the back of Jack’s right hand—it wasn’t perilous for Jack, however.
Grunting with the effort, Jack forced their locked hands to the side and felt the razor slide across and into his skin. It was a cold feeling, followed by a rush of warmth and the knowledge of his soul. It was right there bubbling up from the laceration.
Jack felt it with his mind; he took it and directed it. The blood/soul mixture trickled down his wrist to drop onto the floor where Jack formed it into a curious and beautiful glyph. The Chinese man saw it and his eyes were suddenly big and round. Jack had the advantage now—his hands were clamped on his enemy’s wrists. When the lightning came, it would course directly into those wrists and up those arms and even if it didn’t kill his enemy, it would likely turn him into a mewling, drooling shell.
“Shishin Ighn!” Jack cried, but just as he did, the man literally flew off of him. It was more magic and though Jack had lost his chance to end the fight, he couldn’t help but to marvel at the strength of the man. He had used the lightning spell three times already and he had been doing some spell that added to his agility, and yet his hand still glowed and his eyes weren’t dim.
The two men faced each other with
“Stop!” Jack hissed. “Or I’ll...” The wrist Jack had thought pinned and useless shot to the right and suddenly the man’s hand was free. Jack didn’t freak or panic. He had everything but the wrist under control and he knew that in order to cast a spell, the man would have to cut himself. It was the only way to open a new port to his soul…and somehow he did cut himself.
He jerked his arm and suddenly his wrist was bleeding. Desperately, Jack grabbed the wrist in an iron grip but it was too late. “Shishin Ighn!” his enemy cried as a single drop of blood hit the floor of the shop. It formed one tiny glyph, intricate and beautiful. Up close, Jack saw that the character wasn’t Chinese; it was a proto-hieroglyph, only it had been rendered into something that resembled art by the man’s skill or power.
The glyph was altogether fascinating to Jack and its lines and swirls etched themselves into his memory, though why, he didn’t know. With the Chinese man’s fist glowing, and sparks arcing between his knuckle and Jack’s chest, he was never going to be able to use it.
All it would take for the man to kill Jack was a single touch.
Chapter 4
Akron, Ohio
Jack Dreyden
The tiny arcs of electricity stung the flesh and dazzled the eyes. They also glinted off metal and Jack saw how the man had cut himself. There was a razor blade woven into the fabric of his pants right at hip level. His clothing was what Jack would have described as “oriental.” They were loose, black, and soft. They were more like stylized pajamas than real street clothes.
And they shouldn’t have razor blades in them...unless the man had so thoroughly prepared himself for battle that he had considered every possibility, including being straddled by a much larger man. The implications were frightening.
“Who are you?” Jack asked in amazement as well as to buy time. His grip on the man’s wrist was becoming slick with sweat and the arcs of electricity were causing his muscles to twitch.
“I am man who send you on and for you it is no peace. Your soul is marked.”
There was no time to wonder about what that meant. Jack had been concentrating so much on the man’s wrist and the flashing power in his fist that he hadn’t kept control of himself. He was over balanced. Before he knew it, the smaller man had used Jack’s weight against him and he found himself under the Asian who pressed down with all his strength.
More arcs, more pain, another glint. The man didn’t have one razor blade sown into his clothes; he had many and in odd places. And he had one perilously close to the back of Jack’s right hand—it wasn’t perilous for Jack, however.
Grunting with the effort, Jack forced their locked hands to the side and felt the razor slide across and into his skin. It was a cold feeling, followed by a rush of warmth and the knowledge of his soul. It was right there bubbling up from the laceration.
Jack felt it with his mind; he took it and directed it. The blood/soul mixture trickled down his wrist to drop onto the floor where Jack formed it into a curious and beautiful glyph. The Chinese man saw it and his eyes were suddenly big and round. Jack had the advantage now—his hands were clamped on his enemy’s wrists. When the lightning came, it would course directly into those wrists and up those arms and even if it didn’t kill his enemy, it would likely turn him into a mewling, drooling shell.
“Shishin Ighn!” Jack cried, but just as he did, the man literally flew off of him. It was more magic and though Jack had lost his chance to end the fight, he couldn’t help but to marvel at the strength of the man. He had used the lightning spell three times already and he had been doing some spell that added to his agility, and yet his hand still glowed and his eyes weren’t dim.
The two men faced each other with
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