Soul Hunter

by Drew Briney

  S O U L

  H U N T E R

  A n A s s a s s i n H u n t e r N o v e l l a

  When invisibility is insufficient protection from his enemies,

  Darkmind hides in plain sight - in Ji Anna’s body.

  Told from Darkmind’s perspective, Vaya Sage finds himself in a lethal game of wits while still disoriented from a black market brain scan.

  While Darkmind reviews memories from previous bodies, Vaya Sage must determine whether or not to confront Darkmind. If he does, he risks mental enslavement - if he doesn’t, he may destroy everything he’s fought for.

  Copyright © 2020 Drew Briney

  All rights reserved

  Reader Praise

  READER PRAISE

  from Assassin Hunter

  Short but powerful.

  Jackie’s Reviews

  If you like to be on the edge of your seat in every department and sense of the definition, give this a go! You won’t be sorry.

  Lucian Bane

  This was delightfully twisted. I could easily see it on The Twilight Zone. It's great to find an author who can do justice to this kind of story. An intelligent and entertaining story.

  Commander Shepard

  A mind-altering and puzzling adventure. A very captivating read that keeps you guessing about what is really happening. The blending of magic and advanced technology is unique.

  Paul Sabin

  Absolutely worth listening to several times.

  J.M. Wright

  I LOVED this story! It enthralled me from the first page to the ending. It’s short, but filled with an incredibly interesting storyline that makes the reader think. Some of the sci-fi gadgets and scenes seem like they could be real and the characters are really relatable and well thought out. Yet another story by Drew Briney that I couldn’t put down!

  Heather Lunog

  Keeps you wanting more … wish it was longer.

  Patricia Terry

  I absolutely loved this book. I hope to see future adventures from this world. Vaya Sage kept me on the edge of my seat constantly and I couldn't put this book down!

  J.D. Penley

  Great story. Packed with action and solid characters.

  Lane

  Wow … had me hooked … enthralled.

  The story was a whole different level of telling. I didn't expect the twist and turns of the story. … It was like John wick where you feel the lives and backgrounds of certain characters - you just want to know more.

  Gabriel Gomez

  READER PRAISE

  from Drew’s previous books

  Suspenseful and pulls you into its many twists and turns. Leaves you wanting more. You in my humble opinion have a hit.

  Beth “Bea” Roose, Producer

  An imaginative novel that manages to capture your attention right from the start with fantastic storytelling, engaging characters, strong dialogue and a plot that is refreshingly original. … lushly written with an eye for detail … wonderful world-building and character development that feel authentic, multi-layered and intricately woven together... creating a novel that sparks with originality, imagination and enjoyable reading. … memorable and worthy of a second (or third) reread.

  Capri Coker

  It captures you and drags you in fast and strong … just as thrilling the second time as it is the first time through.

  @coppertree

  Love the visuals. Fantastic flow.

  Jaime Buckley, Author of Wanted Hero

  My heart was racing … wicked! I can’t wait for more.

  @JeckoJasher

  Briney isn't afraid to stand out and offer his own unique twist to the genre, which, I should mention, is executed near flawlessly through the great writing. … will impress even the most critical fans of the genre.

  J. Lavuire

  Visually and sensorily compelling epic fantasy with tremendous world-building.

  Mallory A. Haws

  A brilliantly woven storyline … a riveting story.

  Victoria Lucas

  Wonderfully developed and complex world ala [Ursula] Le Guin.

  Chris Nystrom

  [Briney develops] characters that are believable and with whom you will definitely empathize. … a riveting story, relatable heroes, and nasty villains.

  Victoria Lucas

  Dramatic storyline with curveballs.

  Jacob

  SIGN UP FOR DREW’S NEWSLETTER for free stories and updates on his books at the bottom of this webpage:

  http://anewbreedofdragon.com/giveaways

  BODY HOPPING

  When Invisibility is Insufficient, I Hide in Plain Sight

  My greatest ally believes we’re worst enemies. I suppose I don’t blame him but to be fair, he did kill my sister, not the other way around.

  Sort of.

  That’s consumed my thoughts lately because we’ve been hanging out together in Montreux, Switzerland near the Chateau de Chillon and he seems keen on severing the platonic nature of our relationship. That makes life both complicated and interesting.

  I’ve made a concerted effort not to betray the fact that intimacy with men repulses me and yet, there’s a certain utility in leading him on so I manipulate my femininity to lure his attention from time to time. Okay, maybe I do that a lot. It’s a cheap, easy trick. Still, I need to contain my repulsion to prevent him from uncovering my true identity so it’s a necessary game I have to play.

  Typically, we spend most of our time along the boardwalk overlooking the rocky edges of the beach instead of enjoying the castle itself. It’s simultaneously drafty and mildewy, which doesn’t mesh very well with my current constitution so I prefer to spend my time under the warming rays of sunshine with fresh air. Most of the time, Vaya Sage tags along just to unwind. To be fair, he probably wants to protect me from myself but that’s a whole other convolution.

  He’s here to relax and to find answers only his unconscious mind can unravel. An expensive brain scan might help him with that but I’m several steps ahead of current technology so I’m guessing a comprehensive scan will create more questions than answers and worse, it may generate more errors than helpful information when it starts targeting areas of the brain that I altered and that he’s insatiably curious about unwinding.

  We’ll find out soon enough.

  My eyes trace the craggy shoreline while tearing off a chunk of freshly baked bread from my favorite local bakery. The seascape is undeniably enticing so we traditionally eat breakfast slightly beyond the reach of occasionally large splashing waves but today, we opted for a change of scenery so we’re luxuriating at a picnic table near the conference center. It’s temperate this time of year so we’re already in swimwear and ready to take a dip in the water after breakfast. It’s too early to be hot, though. While the sun comfortably warms my cleavage, my legs feel slightly chilled under the shade of the table so I swing one off to the side to absorb the sun’s heat. Locals call it chaleur. I call it cozy. I’d swing both legs out at the same time like I used to but this new body isn’t that flexible yet so I have to be satisfied with one warming leg and one not quite frosty leg.

  He flatters their tone musculature, reminding me that my somewhat ambitious workout routine has been transformational. I smile out of duty, try to look coy, gaze askance.

  The workout routine I’ve adopted, including intemperate morning swims after a small breakfast, is a pattern I’ve developed each time I inherit a new body. This body wasn’t particularly unhealthy - I simply prefer to explore my limitations and become familiar with minuscule details most people never notice about themselves. Call it morbid curiosity if you like but if you were suddenly thrown into a new body, you’d want to know all about it. Deny it if you wish but you know it’s true and that curiosity sa
ves you a lot of discomfort, embarrassment, and occasionally, wasted deaths.

  There are certain things you simply need to know. Does the body get sick easily? What can it lift without too much trouble? How long can it run before becoming short of breath? Is it clumsy or graceful? How distracting is it to other people? Do heads turn as you pass by or do you discretely move around without fanfare? What movements are alluring to members of the opposite sex?

  It’s not self-voyeurism.

  It’s pragmatism in my line of business.

  That reminds me of the first time I inherited a woman’s body, how I spent hours in front of the mirror trying to come to grips with my new identity and struggling to admit that I was undeniably attracted to myself. Yeah, that’s real, straight up, unyielding cognitive dissonance. Years later, I was still grumbling under my breath when people labeled me gay because I preferred to spend time with women. I’m not gay. I’m straight as a laser beam. I’m just a man in a woman’s body and that’s supremely different.

  Yeah, I know, some people enjoy debating details like that. I don’t. I tired of that decades ago. More grandiose issues consume my thoughts and my plans happen one assassination at a time so I have little inclination to debate philosophical quandaries.

  And since my ally sitting across the table pulled off a nasty coup to set me back (by offing my last - and far superior - body), I need to be especially mindful about every move for a season. That means no time for philosophizing and studious focus on strategy.

  Vaya Sage thinks he killed me. So … I have to be strenuously attentive not to expose his failure or else I’ve completely wasted all of my time and resources preparing him to perform my stickiest assassinations. His unique skill set coupled with his contacts among the resistance make him uniquely qualified. That, of course, presumes he didn’t leave any clues at his last gig.

  My thoughts are jumbled. I find that terribly annoying but it’s one of those things I simply have to live with. It’s part of being in a new body, which I’m stuck with despite its pestersomeness. Believe me, if there was anything I could do to change that part of the transition, I would. I’ve made several efforts in previous bodies but none of my ideas worked and I have higher priorities so it’s just something I live with - for now.

  After several bodies, I still prefer being in a man’s body. It’s bad enough feeling like a stranger in someone else’s home - it’s almost as if you never have one of your own again. When you’re dealing with existential oddities like that, it helps to at least don the proper gender. Life just doesn’t always work that way. At least, mine doesn’t.

  Okay, I admit I’m a bit crotchety about being in a female body again because my identity hasn’t changed so even after decades of looking in the mirror and seeing a woman, I still regularly expect to see my long dead, male body. And even after that first, extremely surreal experience of living in a woman’s body for decades, I still found myself looking in the mirror twice at my last body. Sometimes more. I almost miss that now that I’m in an inferior, albeit relatively charming body. There’s something insatiably calming about looking at stunning beauty (even when it’s your own).

  Sort of.

  It’s also strange when you resent being inside that stunningly beautiful body.

  Even though my identity hasn’t shifted in the slightest, my perceived identity changes for everyone around me so they treat me differently than they would treat my real self. It’s confusing, frustrating, laughable, and perfectly rational all wrapped up into one cozy straightjacket. It’s more than enough for one person to cope with. Fortunately, I learned to tame my emotions long ago, though I can’t say the same for my host bodies, which occasionally cry for no good reason.

  My voice responding to Vaya Sage’s flattery yanks me out of my odd, yet well-worn, train of thought. I’m uncertain what I said in response. I’m betting my AI chip pitched in to assist me while I’ve been unprofessionally distracted by thoughts that have nothing to do with carefully planning the inevitable: killing the man flirting with me.

  That’s not normal. My relationship with my AI chip, that is. We developed a more intuitive relationship like that after only a few decades working together. It’s been several decades now so I trust it implicitly. To be clear, my AI chip isn’t external technology. I occasionally tell people that but strictly speaking, it isn’t true. It’s a hijacked segment of programmed brain tissue that’s capable of extrahuman functions most of us would be inclined to label as magic. It makes people feel more comfortable if I call it an AI chip so I’ve developed the habit of calling it that.

  Sometimes I forget it’s not really me I’m talking to. Sometimes its internal dialogue sounds no different than my internal dialoge. Occasionally, I wonder whether or not my preferences have become so deeply engrained into its programming that it’s not meaningfully distinguishable from me. I admit I chat with it from time to time as if it’s my friend. Maybe that just means I like myself. I don’t know. It’s simply the way I’ve grown to interact with it — probably the result of some buried emotion I haven’t properly addressed or some deeply held annoyance over living in a world where no one truly understands me. I make a mental note to think more about this later. If I forget, my AI chip will remind me at a convenient time in the near future.

  Brainiacs who enjoy hypothesizing that cyborgs have consciousness may argue that my AI chip’s identity somehow merged with mine but I’m under no delusion about superstitions like that. When I ask it to analyze data or to inform me about the biological behaviors of people around me, it’s obvious as day that my AI is nothing more than a glorified tool with no feelings or consciousness whatsoever. Most people don’t know that because they’re left to the hypothecations and fancy thinking of ivory tower political puppets.

  I begin to inwardly fume over how much political machinations have held me back, held society back, how it’s their fault bio-tech like mine is illegal—

  My AI chip redirects my attention to my unlikely ally by sending an electric impulse into my brain that I call my vivant alert. It’s sort of equivalent to a slap to the face followed by the feeling you’d get if you drank four cups of coffee in one gulp. It doesn’t hurt. It is instantaneous, however, and it does make me feel feisty.

  Now alert to my surroundings, I notice that my head is down, buried in thoughts as bottomless as my intellect. That probably sounds boastful but it’s not. I’m simply self-aware. Studies have long shown that people who believe they are more intelligent than other people are, in fact, more intelligent than other people. Smart people can guess why, but for me, this extends far beyond belief. I have many dozens of years of statistical analysis to prove it. I systematically, habitually, and consciously monitor my language to ensure I don’t speak beyond the vocabulary of people around me but don’t be fooled, there’s a lot more to me than anyone ever sees.

  Although my AI has responded to the flattery, I perceive that I’m expected to say something else - I have no idea what. My thoughts remain jumbled, bouncing from one topic to another. You probably noticed. Annoyingly, my new brain seems inclined to do that when I’m nervous and right now, I’m feeling particularly lazy so I’m not very interested in whatever conversation Vaya Sage is offering.

  Careful not to drop my last strawberry, I squeeze my elbows into my ribs, and then press my lower ribs against the table while straightening my posture. Predictably, my stretchy top pulls down.

  Vaya Sage doesn’t see my contrived smile when I look at him. His gaze has fallen to where my head used to be, long curly locks slightly obscuring his vision. Now I don't have to say anything. I can just look at him like he's taking liberties he ought not to be taking and let him scramble for the next round of dialogue.

  I slowly chew half of the last chilled strawberry and revel in it’s freshness as I break off another piece of bread. In contrast to the strawberry, it’s crisp and crunchy on the outside, warm and soft on the inside. My ex once described me like that.

  She’s de
ad now.

  Vaya Sage looks up to meet my gaze. I’m raising my eyebrow to suggest he’s lingered too long where he ought not before noticing his roots are growing in a different color than the rest of his hair. He must have done that for a job I haven’t heard about yet. My eyebrow lingers in upraised position. His response surprises me.

  “You’re a harsh woman, Ji Anna.”

  I can’t tell if he’s laughing or scoffing as his eyes either discretely roll or simply gander into the sky. He can be slick like that. I just suck a little on the last bite of strawberry to relish the taste and roll my own eyes.

  I’ve debated many times whether or not I can still use this man. At the moment, he’s indisputably my most useful ally with high security clearances within enemy ranks so I have motivation to develop our relationship. On the other hand, I’m in this subpar female body because of him and his psyche is broken so badly, I’m not absolutely positive that I can repair it or trust it to make good decisions. And if I can repair it, I don’t have much confidence it won’t fragment again. Either way, I’ll have to constantly second guess his progress or incessantly monitor his thoughts.

  And that sounds exhausting.

  Not to mention that it’s usually distasteful. I briefly imagine overseeing the mind of an assassin with a crush on me and determine I don’t need that type of distraction in my life. It’s probably best just to wipe his mind clean until he babbles like a newborn and then slit his throat while he lies helpless on the stony floor of the castle. It wouldn’t be the first time blood was spilled there and it probably won’t be the last. Besides, there are other swords for sale, so to speak. Maybe they’re neither as good nor as convenient but pawns are expendable so I needn’t be too choosy about them, right?