The god eaters jesse hajicek pdf

  1. The God Eaters by Jesse Hajicek - Levi's Random Magazine
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  3. The God Eaters
  4. Jesse Hajicek - The God Eaters

The God Eaters Contents: Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter Jesse Hajicek - The God Eaters - Ebook download as PDF File .pdf), Text File . txt) or read book online. Get Free Read & Download Files The God Eaters Jesse Hajicek PDF. THE GOD EATERS JESSE HAJICEK. Download: The God Eaters Jesse Hajicek.

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The God Eaters Jesse Hajicek Pdf

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Are you? When his cronies failed to join in, however, he grew embarassed and stopped. He spit on the native boy's bruised and dirty back. It's our country now. You better learn that. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and whirled away. Let's go back of Maley's and see if we can kype some oranges.

They were new to the South, and not yet accustomed to casual cruelty. They would learn soon enough, though.

The God Eaters by Jesse Hajicek - Levi's Random Magazine

You couldn't be too easy on these natives. Had to pound 'em down when they got too proud. Even the Church said so. They were devil-worshipers and savages, and it was a righteous man's duty to civilize them.

He'd been doing that boy a favor, really. His friends would understand that before too long. Meanwhile, the blond boy showed them that there was plenty of fun to be had here, if you were Eskaran.

He showed them that you could do just about anything you wanted. Flip up darkie girls' skirts, and their mothers would just catch up the girls and look around with wide eyes, they wouldn't even yell. Steal from farmers' stalls right in front of them -- what were they going to do?

The whole province was a free lunch for a white boy with some time to kill. They strutted and crowed, and the day passed in a fevered spin of power. The new boys had to go home at suppertime. Their folks were still trying to keep to Northern customs.

The blond boy sneered at them for obeying these rules, and then wandered on alone. He had no fixed idea of what to do -- there was no need.

He'd find something. Maybe one of those native girls, those brown girls in white dresses whose mothers had learned better than to object to what a white man wanted from them. Lately he'd been having new ideas about what he could do to those girls, to make their eyes go big, make them whimper like puppies.

He strolled through the emptying streets, meandering toward the native quarter. What if he went in one of their houses? What could they do to him? He could take anything, or smash everything. He wandered along the riverfront, roads pounded stone-hard by ore wagons, thick with the smell of the smelteries, empty now after the end of the work day.

Not quite empty. A small, dark form darted into the road in front of him, appearing from a loading alley -- the boy he'd beaten before. He chuckled. He'd wanted to scare a girl, but this would work too. You looking for another beating?

But the kid didn't run. He grinned. He shifted from one foot to the other as if excited. Any second. But he didn't, and the northerner stopped when he loomed over the smaller child. The native was still grinning.

His thin, sharp-chinned face was decorated with old bruises, bruises far deeper than any he'd gotten today.

His eyes were huge, and mad, and green, though all natives had black eyes this boy's were green like river mud. There was no fear in them. Apparently more threats were needed. Didn't your mama teach you not to sass your betters? You got any money? He was showing every one of his sharp, crooked teeth, all the way to the gums. He looked down in dawning horror to see blood running off the native boy's knuckles in a thin stream.

He whimpered. You can't. His fist flashed again, and everything stopped. Kieran Trevarde looked down at the body in the road, and felt nothing. Not even satisfaction. Not even relief. He hadn't planned anything like this. He hadn't planned anything else either. He knew he ought to be sorry, but couldn't remember what it felt like. It would be only fair to cry for the dead boy, but he couldn't.

Used to be, he cried over stupid things, like a stomachache, or a toy his mama wouldn't download him. Then his mama's pimp Barton had said Kieran had to earn his keep, and Kieran had cried at the look on Mama's face, and again for fear and pain during the rape, and with shame after, as he'd given Mama the money.

He'd been crying the whole time Mama and Barton fought; and after Barton kicked her, while her stomach swelled up and turned shiny and bruised, they'd wept together until she fell into silence, away from him, alone. After Mama had stopped crying, he'd stopped being able to. He threw his head back, swallowed a breath, choking back a swell of nausea.

Then he bent to empty his victim's pockets. He had just turned nine years old. I hear you've done a fair bit of the permanent, considering your age. That true? Nearly sixteen now, tall for his age but twig-thin, Kieran Trevarde didn't relax. He didn't know how.

He stood straight with his hands at his sides, and looked at the leader of the White Rose gang with eyes like a coyote's. Don't you know you can make better money with me? It was a pleased laugh. Takes a while, sometimes. Another time it was the next day. I can use a knife, though.

You're hired. I'll pay you twenty a week, and you can stay at the Tall House. Don't bother the girls. His leaving was an insectile sort of operation, maneuvering arms and legs too long and thin for grace in a strangely graceful manner.

Shrike had told Kinter that the boy had grown at least six inches during his year in Tiyamo, despite scanty prison food and constant abuse; durable.

And he was pretty, would be gorgeous if given a chance to fill out. Watching him go, Shrike echoed Kinter's thought, loud enough for the boy to hear: Kinter noticed the strange smile on the new hand's face, and ordered the boy's pay raised. He sent old man Beatty to instruct the boy in various types of combat.

He also let fall the word that he'd like the boy introduced to the pleasures of the poppy. It looked like the kid was a real thing. Kinter was the. He wasn't about to let Kieran get away. Just when it couldn't hurt any more, the pain got worse. It was amazing, really amazing, and funny in a stupid way.

Black things crawled around the edges of the room, everything smelled of shit, the ceiling was getting lower, and still it kept hurting even more.

Kieran could see his abdomen rippling with the cramps. Just cramps, he told himself, I am not host to giant parasites But as soon as he'd thought it, he knew there really were worms in there. Great toothy worms, eating his guts, and only one medicine would drive them out. Just a little, just to tide me over, be logical -- God!

Why are you doing this to me? Do you hate me so much? You said not to give you any no matter what you said. I ain't got none, anyway. The blue-eyed boy gave him a smile full of sad humor, which transformed his ordinary face into something remarkable.

But Kieran was past taking comfort from that. It hurts --" "You don't care why right now. Let's talk about sumpin else, okay? Wondering if he'd chosen right, this first time in years he'd made a choice. He'd defied Kinter because of that smile. Kicking his tar habit was imperative, because until he did he would be Kinter's slave, and if he remained Kinter's slave he would eventually do as Kinter ordered, and kill this boy.

You're doing it for you. But I'm glad if it'll keep you from drawing down on me again. For a minute there I thought it was all up. I'll never hurt you. I swear, Shan. Then the cramps started again.

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Will you lookit all that money! They'd just knocked over the payroll shipment to the Dogtooth Mine. Did you?

I sure didn't. Should be exactly four hundred eighty thrones there.

Count it if you want, but the math's not hard. He grinned again the next moment. You're so damn smart, Kai. I done made more money with you --" "That's not why you took me on, though," said Kieran wickedly. He tossed the revolver aside and siezed Shan's wrist. There was a brief tug-of-war to determine whether they'd end up on the bed or the floor.

Grinning, Kieran gave in and let himself be pulled up. Smothered Shan's laughter with his mouth, surrendered to the defiant purity of plain desire. For someone who'd spent half his childhood as a whore, he'd been remarkably ignorant about sex when Shan had taken him in. He'd thought all he had to do was show up.

He'd certainly never made love, never mulitiplied pleasure by trading it back and forth, until Shan had taught him. Even after months of Shan's tutelage, he was rarely the one to start anything. This time, he thought maybe he was finally starting to trust his lover. He hoped so; Shan deserved that. Later, when they lay sweaty and content together, Shan asked, "What are you gonna do with your half?

What're you? Gotta get another one. And then Maybe I'll download you a diamond earring. I've got my own cut. Remember how when we were at Dindy's that one time, he had this engraving behind the counter? That new gun, that you could order custom? You gonna get one of those? Ten if you carry one in the chamber. Self-cocking, and it has separate magazines like a Lockeart. I could do some real wrecking with that.

So he'd die before he turned twenty. This was it. Kieran knew exactly what would happen in the fraction of a second before it did. One of these days. Kieran saw his own understanding mirrored in the sky-blue of Shan's stare. If it wasn't the cops.

Then he raised his eyes to meet Kieran's. It all seemed to have been planned in advance -. When Shan siezed him by his shirt front and kissed him hard. He snapped the cylinder into place and looked ruefully at the handful of bullets he had left. A bullet whined overhead as he pulled quickly back.

More than you. Into the silence came the sound of wind. Shan sprang to his feet in a movement meant to propel him in a long. I'm a rogue Talent.. His look was bleak. Shan raised himself on one elbow to look down into Kieran's face.. Kieran jumped up too. They gotta be running low too. He knew his teeth were red. He was going to die now. He deserves --" "We have a use for his kind. Running down the side of Kieran's face. And then there came up inside him someone who did.

Shan's blood coming down more slowly than his body. At last. Kieran didn't care. Let it win. For the rest of his life. He began to smile. And then came the wet smack of a bullet hitting flesh. It was intolerable. Now it's out of your hands. It was followed in the next bubbling breath by a screech of rage. He'd thought that the world was harsh because it was indifferent.

Someone said. He didn't want to play this stupid game anymore. Someone in a sand-colored police uniform clouted him on the ear. Kieran would remember how the blood glittered in the sun. That's all you need to know. His screams of pain and outrage likewise. Kieran felt himself begin to stand. It hypnotized him as he shouted.

Most important -.

The God Eaters

Iaka'anta's best qualification for being made into a prison. It stood more than twice as tall as any other land form in the area. The only other individual in the world who posessed these senses. It was riddled with tunnels. He only rarely visited it. He had carved this stair into the stone with his own magic. Though far from water sources.

Staffed and maintained by the elite government mages of the White Watch. He had left standing orders that he was to be notified if the facility recieved a threnodist.

Even more rarely -. Now Thelyan put his hand to the latch and watched with satisfaction as the shape of the locking spell rearranged itself to accomodate him. Thelyan did not. The Eskarans called it Churchrock. He opened it and slipped through. Its natural properties made it easy to set up and maintain a ward to keep the prisoners from using their magic.

Thelyan didn't need one. There was no source of light. Its distinctive form and size had earned it a place in the mythology of the natives. They called it Iaka'anta. Hardly anyone could even see it. They believed it had once been the castle of a god. He could see the stone around him with senses far finer than sight.

In the bowels of the mountain was a door that looked as if it might lead to a storeroom. As he inspected it for signs of wear or damage. This one had greater protections on it. A lacy cradle of brittle iron clasped what looked like a giant drop of mercury. His voice was dull. Thelyan believed that not even the one beyond the door could have set a spell in grounded metal. Thelyan had never been able to induce him to part with the secret of how it was done. Once he'd satisfied himself that the device was in good working order.

This revealed an ovoid room. The null sphere was an invention he hadn't shared with anyone. A naked human form. He built his structure of thought and fitted it into the pattern. It was not mercury. Now a shape was visible. Any magic directed against the door itself would simply ground in the copper. It was the only structure strong enough to contain one of his own kind. Thelyan had stopped him from aging. I don't like you.

It was in hope of obtaining such secrets that Thelyan kept him embodied and imprisoned. I wish to speak with you. Climbing the long spiral high into the mountain. Only this particular password would trigger the lock.

He could not simply slip through. Seals were fixed at each intersection of the iron straps. He made a light. In appearance. After many more repetitions of his name. The boy's fingernails were ten-inch corkscrews. Even though he was never fed or given water. The lesser Talents put faces on this change. When Chaiel had calmed somewhat.

He watched their fall with an expression of anguished longing. You may not be able to see the future. He knew he could not. But you are in the sphere. Thelyan waited patiently for him to finish. I wonder if you can figure out what they're seeing. Clawing at his face with his helical fingernails. Several have gone catatonic. Chaiel drew bleeding scratches down his cheeks and brow as the nails broke off. There's no force on earth that could kill me. Thelyan rephrased his question.

They say that changes emanate from a blank place. They see your death and they're afraid to tell you. If you weren't in the null sphere. Some of us you lost. Once they were no longer part of him. It sent the boy into a convulsion of babbling and weeping that lasted nearly half an hour.

Those I rely on. I suspect you're bored. Thrashing like an overturned insect. I have a puzzle for you to play with.

She was never a threat. The weakest of his enemies. In any case. He was just wasting time. Maybe he fell into his Burn and sucked it up. And he's going to come for you and twist you around until you're inside out and you have to look at yourself and see that there's nothing in there! If she could have been controlled. You could keep yourself company. I can tell you something else important! I promise I'll be good! You're a menagerie. I'll leave.

Thelyan touched the seal that controlled the passage of light. Medur was no threat to him. The only possible threat was Ka'an. I doubt a personality as fractured as his has survived repeated incarnation. She would lack the strength of personality to emerge as herself. It wasn't important. Chaiel curled up again. You should be in here. Maybe he's getting his power back. You'd never be lonely. We all start incarnated. Even so. Go to hell. He'd had his chance to swallow her.

If they were going take my glasses they would have done it already. It had to be some kind of stupid dream. He could take a joke. Any minute now one of those Watchmen in the white coats would come in and announce that it had all been very funny and now he could go home. He'd been wearing them for months now. His clothes. But now they were just about all that remained of the world he belonged in.

He was going to be eaten alive in prison. Thelyan would meet the threat and deal with it when it occurred. Ashleigh leaned against the swaying wall of the prison car.

It made it easier to pretend he wasn't here. It was. Not gradually as he'd imagined. A very long stupid dream. He was a good sport. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

Jesse Hajicek - The God Eaters

Thinking about this made him increasingly fond of the yellow shirt and brown corduroy bags he'd been arrested in. He'd been allowed to use the station lavatory. There was desert outside. He locked the door behind him. Or bootlaces. It had been interesting to see how the slushy end-of-winter snow of Eskard had given up on the way west. For instance. It dulled his mind and made his limbs feel heavy. He'd realized that shortly after the shock of not being executed had worn off. He could only try to distract himself from worrying.

Like a dangerous criminal. It must be something else. He was pale. Chapter 1 The sound of the train was hypnotic. Ashleigh Trine. They'd taken his chains off at a whistle stop somewhere in West Mauraine. Not that he had any money. He sincerely hoped this wasn't his destination. When the train stopped at a roofless platform surrounded by grayish adobe shacks. He'd heard that most of the iron and coal and so forth for the Commonwealth's military machine was produced out here.

He had to be threatened before he'd take his seat against the opposite wall. Then a big. A sort of shack thing flashed by. We're taking on a couple of real baddies. Something chemical. The man came in with his gun trained. The Watchmen just slammed the door. The desert. The 'real baddies' coming aboard. As he stepped away. They won't be nice to you like we are.

A clang of footsteps on the metal connector-thing outside his moveable cell made his heart jump with apprehension. Then one of his white-uniformed guards came and banged on the compartment's iron door to get his attention. The warmth of the day was instantly gone. Some kind of demented dog started howling somewhere nearby. He told himself they were just taking on fuel and water. His watch was another of those things he didn't have. A Watchman stepped in first.

He scrubbed ar his glasses with a filthy shirttail and peered hard at the plume of pollution as it grew closer. He was followed by another. A city. He wondered whether. A plume of smoke rose from an intermediately distant valley beyond the farm. The engine sat on the tracks. Ashleigh could discern a sharp new smell under the reek of the engine and the desert's alien scent. Then an amazing voice spoke -.

Ashleigh was watching pig-man as carefully as someone allergic to wasps watches a buzzing blot on the windowpane. As a sour-faced Watchman fastened the back of that belt to a ring behind the bench. What shredded clothing was left on him was so caked with mud and dust and what looked like dried blood that it was impossible to tell what color it had been. His hair was matted into waist-length ropes. His long legs made the low bench awkward for him. The Iavaian stared back patiently while Ashleigh gawked at his face.

I been sitting by him for fuckin' weeks. Pale scars streaked his face: I wanna sit over there. The inevitable grunt followed. He had the angular features typical of his race.

Beneath the dirt. Ashleigh tried to nod back like a normal person. Even the movement of the train only registered peripherally. The car gave a lurch.. The Iavaian could not have been much older than Ashleigh's eighteen years. He was lean and menacing as a wild dog. His skinned-knuckled hands were huge. Ashleigh ripped his gaze from the evil stare of the man across from him.

The guards had left long ago. This was the tallest human being Ashleigh had ever seen. His hands were chained at his belt. Just saved your ass. The scarred boy grinned at pig-man. He never made it past the first half-syllable of his retort. You saying I lied? The Iavaian kicked him under the chin. I'm back in grammar school. Ashleigh looked to him in horror. I would. I don't gotta take shit from you no more. I ain't gonna hurt you. Burdock began to get up. The Iavaian reeled in a mile-long leg and smiled.

A small bubble of blood appeared at the corner of Burdock's mouth and commenced growing and popping with every rattling breath. He was wondering. Ashleigh tried hard not to cringe back against the wall. Ashleigh edged away from the man's still bulk. They had arrived. Across the car. Come on out. They had stopped at a platform of bare concrete. He was raw. The sounds of strange insects hurt him. They'd shut the engine off.

There were no walls. Step on his neck. Two white-uniformed sentries watched the distance. It isn't real. Man asked you a question. Sleeping with his head against the compartment's vibrating wall had given him a headache. Carefully training his eyes on the small square of window that glowed above the other's head. It was lit with a painful profusion of lamps.

This isn't happening. Wake up. The chill breeze with its freight of unfamiliar smells overwhelmed him. I'm scared. The wall wasn't vibrating now. What the hell did you do? Watch the step there. It felt like a dream. Ashleigh opened his mouth to explain.

Ashleigh was marched down a set of steps and. Ashleigh climbed out into the desert night. I'm not here. All at once. Make sure you work it thoroughly into your scalp and all body hair. Maybe the guns were behind them. He didn't sound as if he believed it. It was a mountain. His startled squawk made the guards laugh.

Besides the men. One of them turned at the door. At first he thought it was a building. There his escort left him. It was built into the base of the mountain. It had no windows at all. Suddenly he was deluged with freezing water.

Ashleigh took a last look at the stars. In the room beyond was a man with a clipboard. He also guessed that there was no point explaining that he'd never had lice in his life. He supposed it killed lice.

There were too many of them. Step into the shower. Probably the high point of their day. He felt as if he might fall into them.

You can get them later. A flat-topped mountain that could have swallowed his home town of Ladygate with room to spare for a couple of suburbs if you stacked them. A few steps later. Ashleigh offered them. Between the stars and the lamps there was a huge square blackness where something blotted out the sky. There were. Stopped at a gate in a wire fence. There was a series of checkpoints with metal gates. They were let through the gate. He wasn't waiting long before the second door opened.

This room couldn't be his cell. He was far more thorough than Ashleigh thought necessary. Excuse me. Arms and legs apart. Ashleigh was weighed. He'd had them off so long that resuming them made his head hurt. While Ashleigh dripped and shivered. At last he got his wish. Clipboard man pulled a little handle -. The series of humiliations came to an end and he was allowed to dress -drawstring pants and a sort of peasant blouse which.

Now make sure you rinse off all of it. He was hungry and cold. A long series of rooms ensued. He wanted to put his ugly new clothes on and go to sleep in a nice. Yellowish lamps provided just enough illumination for Ashleigh to see a broad central corridor lined with metal gates. It was as if he actually were being fitted for a suit.

They even measured his neck and wrists. A final clipboard man checked the spelling of his name. He was tired. Bizarre though it all was.

Each gate on the ground floor revealed a cell with two sleeping occupants. Ashleigh found his specs and rammed them onto his face. The Iavaian bounced on the edge of his bunk a few times. Too tired to even pace out the size of his cell. All right if I sleep now? Ashleigh picked the left-hand bunk. You just give me an excuse to shoot you. Up the stairs. His feet hung off the end. The Iavaian's hand engulfed his. You smart? He rolled his head toward Ashleigh to show him a glint of teeth.

We're alphabet buddies. The guard was talking to someone right outside Ashleigh's cell.

Morning already? It was still dark. Kieran Trevarde. He fumbled for his glasses. You're a firestarter. Burrowing back into his blanket. He'd clearly been awake for some time already.

There were wet handprints on the front of his shirt. Flailing free of his blanket. Head down. What did a mouse like you do to get the Watch's attention? Just keep repeating: Or the catch of the day. He put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. It was still nice to have a layer of glass between himself and the world. Trevarde was apparently extremely dangerous. The land is described wonderfully and I could actually visualise it; the magic was more a science than a flimsy shiny toy and it was clever, plausible, evolving; the government was oppressive and violent and realistic in its cruelty; the people were prejudiced, singular, essentially kind and humane.

The action is non-stop and edge-of-your-seat - and it doesn't need to be fighting to get you all strung up and gnawing on your nails like it did for me.

It's Ash and Kieran's story and it's all about them, despite following a much larger thread than just a romance, and this gives the reader enough time to get attached to them that I, personally, was hyperventilating for half the book in fear of what would happen next. And what happened next surprised me. Several times. I'm not the kind of person who always guesses what's going to happen next in a book or a movie and I wouldn't want to be one , but it's pretty hard to really surprise me - and I don't know if this book actually had some shocking twists though I'd bet on a yes or if I was just astonishingly emotionally involved, but it succeeded.

And do not get me started on the romance. How such a flawless, pure love managed to be born and grow in the rubble, hatred and destruction of this land is beyond me - yet at the same time I believe it, and it warms me, because I desperately want to believe we are capable of that kind of love. There's a shameless romantic here, buried under a half ton of cynicism and sarcasm.

Or on the characters. Their personality, their development, their originality, their relationships, their individuality, their perfect compatibility and the huge differences between them - I should probably just stop now, because this isn't going anywhere good. It's just making less and less sense. Let me just mention the writing - gorgeous, flawless, descriptive to just the right degree, intensely atmospheric and at times surprisingly humorous - and I'm done.

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