The Society Series Box Set 2
Page 1
The Society Series Box Set
Books 8 - 14
Mason Sabre
The Society Series Box Set
Mason Sabre
This book is a work of fiction. All characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Mason Sabre. All rights reserved, including the right to publish this book or portions thereof (except for reviews, news media reports, brief quotes with attribution, and purposes of promotion of this book or other novels by Mason Sabre in any form whatsoever.
Written permission may be obtained from the author.
Contents
Free Books
Also by Mason Sabre
Team Sabre
Places to find me
Seraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Bleed
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Fractured 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Fractured 2
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
Martial Magic
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
The Forgotten
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Epilogue
Mortal Wings
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Did you enjoy that?
Places to find me
Team Sabre
Also by Mason Sabre
Dedications
Free Books
Free Book
A love not even death can break
Henry’s Beginning
Free Book
Loss. Friendship. Hope
It’s time to rise out of the ashes
Phoenix’s Beginning
Also by Mason Sabre
Society Books
Book 1 Cade
Book 2 Dark Veil
Book 3 Hidden
Book 4 Exile
Book 5 Fractured Part One
Book 6 Fractured Part Two
Book 7 Broken
Book 8 The Forgotten
Society Companion Books
Henry
The Rise of the Phoenix
Death Awakening
Broken Snow
Seraph
Bleed
Chaos
Martial Magic
Enigma
Mortal Wings
Other Books by Mason Sabre
Death Dealers (With Rachel Morton)
Dead on Time
Dead on Arrival
Others
Watch Over you
Cuts Like an Angel
Cuts like an Angel 2
Cuts Like an Angel 3
Lucy
She Promised
Skin Trade
Non-Fiction
10,000 Words per Day
Write Better Scenes
Patreon for Writers
Team Sabre
Wolf Club
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Seraph
To those who know me truly and still don’t disappear.
To Nina Stevenson, whom this book is about. Thank you for joining my cast of characters.
Book Eight
Chapter 1
Eastbourne had always been a quiet town—small, with a population of three thousand people. That was small on many scales. Small meant quiet. Except today. The sound of the first shot ricocheted through the village—the short, sharp burst of the bullet leaving the chamber. No one paid any mind to it, though, dismissing it as nothing more than a car backfiring. It was the second shot that made people turn their heads. Or maybe it was the screaming.
The shop sat on the corner. Everyone went there. It was the kind of store where single mothers could take their children, dressed in their pyjamas, at night, because they had forgotten to purchase the milk for the morning. No one chased away the urine-stenched tramp sitting outside leaning against the door. He'd sit and wait patiently for someone to feel sorry for him enough that they would refill his cheap special brew.
The priest stood at the back of the store. In his hand, he had a half-filled basket containing enough alcohol to rival any gentleman’s club. The drink had been in the basket before he arrived. He had found it. Not the basket. Shit no, that was the priest’s. What he had found was the right vessel. The perfect meat suit ... another one of the many fallen; another one not fit to wear the collar. He placed the basket on the ground beside his feet, gently, so as not to clang the bottles together and scare the would-be pant pissers around him. He pulled up his collar, straightening it, the whiteness of it under his chin.
The people around him walked in odd ways, their spines bent and misshapen. Not through sickness or defects, but through the weight of their souls. He saw them ... the real them. Not the veneer that everyone else saw. Every single fucking one of them. It was rare to find a Human who could walk with a straight back. The priest waved his hand toward the door, a quick flick of his wrist, silently fixing the lock into place. No one would know until they tried to open it. When they would scream and run for it ... Only, they couldn’t.
The priest started at the back—there was a man standing there, looking at the magazines. Not the normal ones, but the ones on the top shelf with the cover hidden inside a bag so as not to offend those holier-than-thou sort. He'd pulled one magazine down and was checking the adverts at the back. ‘Girls in twenty minutes to your house’. He twisted the gold band around his finger, absently, his vows in his subconscious, but not enough he might honour them. He took out his phone and took a photograph—cheap ass bastard wouldn’t even buy the magazine. At least taking himself to the bathroom and whacking himself off to the contents was a little better than what he would do.
The priest raised his empty hand and curled his fingers in a half fist, the bottom two fingers curled in, his index and middle finger out straight. He stuck his thumb into the air, making a gun with his hand.
"What the hell are you looking at?" the man asked, scowling when he noticed him. His mouth twisted in a disgusted snarl.
The priest angled his head to the side. "Vengeance, my friend. Vengeance. One’s vows are made in front of the house of God."
"Fuck you."
"Fuck me?" The priest let out a bellowing laugh, rich, deep, thick, enough that the man stepped back from him, feeling the edge of the malice it held. "Oh yes, fuck me. No, fuck you." He lowered his thumb in a clicking motion and made a popping sound with his mouth. The man's forehead cracked open, blood trickling down his face. He stared at the priest, not knowing just yet what had happened. He touched his fingers to his forehead, coming away with blood. He staggered forward, his eyes rolling back in his head as he fell to his knees and then slumped to the floor.
The priest winked as the man slumped, leaning into the shelves as he slid to the ground. His eyes stayed open as he landed on the floor—dead eyes staring up unseeingly at the priest.
"You’re welcome."
Next was a woman. She was pretty to look at, young, the kind of girl that one would take home to Mum and Dad ... the kind of girl to steal from your ailing grandmother who was too generous for her own good. The priest shook his finger slowly at her, tutting.
"How will you ever pay all that money back?" he asked her.
She turned to him, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"
"From your Nana too."
"What? Who are you?" She didn’t notice the man on the floor at first, her eyes on this stranger that had her number, but when she did, the priest smiled.
He raised his hand again, clicking his thumb. The girl fell, faster than the man had. She took it straight in the head.
It was when he aimed his unarmed hand at another woman and pulled the invisible trigger, blowing out the best side of her face and splattering the assistant with blood, bone and brain, that the screams began for real. The place erupted in echoes, fear-filled cries and delicious chaotic shouts that fed the priest. Fuck, this was glorious. One screaming orgasm. He could hardly breathe as the pack of rats scurried, all of them heading for the door ... the locked door.
They threw themselves on the floor, lying down With their hands over their heads. One man stood at the door, hands raised up. Innocent ...
Innocent? The priest laughed. Innocent—the biggest fucking joke of them all. The priest fired. Smashing the invisible bullet into the man’s head and sending him toppling onto an already screaming woman. If he thought she was screaming loudly before, it was nothing compared to when the man's brains slipped from the hole in his head and landed on her.
There was a teenager at the sweet stand, a little skinny kid with pimples that would one day be pock marks. He ignored the priest behind him. He ignored everything. Another one of those grotesque Humans who thought themselves above it all.
"Hey, kid," the priest said.
The boy sighed, shaking his head, slumping as if it was just too much effort for him to bother.
"Hey, I’m talking to you, kid."
"I heard you." But still he didn’t turn.
"You're quite a vulgar specimen, aren't you?"
"Yeah?" He turned to face him, the piercing through his lip glinting as he put his head back and eyed the priest up. "Well, fuck you. How is that?"
The priest stepped closer. Oh, this little shit. One day he would have a house, not his own, but one of those given to him, a wife, and three children. More drains off the state.
"Do you think you scare me? Bible bashing kiddie-fiddler. Go back to bashing your dick in the pews."
He reached out to the boy, going for his arm, head angled with curiosity as he observed this creature.
"Don't you fucking touch me." The boy snatched his arm away.
"I'll fucking touch you if I want to." The priest grabbed the boy by the shoulders, digging in bony fingers, pushing between the bones. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes, delving into the mind of one so young. Vicious.