To celebrate the upcoming release of book 3 of the Daemonicon Chapters, check out this snippet!

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Jack puts every ounce of his soul’s hate and fury into the blow. The handle of the blade gives his fist extra weight. It makes a wet, sickening sound as it hits, like a slab of meat slapping on a hard table, combined with a crunch of bones turning into nothing but shards. Even with the restraint around the tar man’s forehead, the force of it is enough to turn his head to the side. Flecks of spit and the oily substance on the tar man’s face go flying, as does part of a tooth.

It stops the tar man’s laughter. His cheek and nose have been wrecked.

Nor has Jack finished. He is still holding his knives in both fists, and he raises the one in his right with savage intent.

“Jackson Kade!” Deedee cries from beyond the clear plastic barrier. “We need him alive!”

With no hesitation whatsoever, Jack brings the knife down in a hard, fast motion, embedding it into the tar man’s flesh.

Despite the mess Jack has made of his face, the tar man manages a shriek that combines agony with outrage. His face is a bloody pulp and Jack’s knife is sticking out of his thigh. There is a vapor rising from the wound, not quite as noxious as that produced by the demon spawn, but it is more than satisfying to Jack. He knows how much misery and suffering the wound is causing. He has a similar wound of his own, complete with a piece of thrice-blessed shrapnel embedded within it.

With a vengeful grimace, Jack gives his knife a twist that makes the tar man shriek again. “Tell me your name!” Jack snarls.

But the tar man is beyond obstinate. His will is as unyielding as a mountain made of stone. Despite Jack’s efforts, despite the shattered and bloody cheek, despite the sizzling blade embedded into his thigh, the tar man still laughs.

It is a weaker sound than before, filled more with acceptance than bile, but the message is clear. His chuckling might make him appear to be no more than a jester, but it is part of who he is. In a way, it defines him. It is his signature.

And the acceptance in it has nothing to do with being willing to yield.

“You will have to kill me,” the tar man manages, his voice little more than a burble, as if he is talking through a throat filled with mud.

Jack wants to rage in frustration. He is at the point of tearing his hair out. If he could have done so, he would have picked the tar man up out of the chair and flung him bodily against the wall.

As it is, all he can do is wrench his blade free from the tar man’s thigh. He does so, not gently, and the tar man utters a sound that is halfway between a shriek and a hiss.

Then Jack hesitates for a moment. He stands there with his blade at the ready, but doesn’t move. He has accepted that there is nothing he can do to make the tar man talk. Jack can pound him with his fists, carve strips out of his flesh with his knife, or boil his skin with holy water, and still the man will refuse to speak.

With this knowledge clear in his mind, Jack has only one option. He doesn’t agree with Deedee’s assertion that they need the tar man alive. Although the Brotherhood would like to gain the information the tar man possesses, Jack knows no way to get it.

The tar man will give them nothing whether he is alive or dead. Therefore, he is of no use to them.

Jackson Kade is a dangerous man. He has spent his life dispatching as many loathsome creatures back to Hell as he can, and fully intends to continue to do so until his last breath leaves his body. He has split wights in two, has blown Hell-beasts apart, and has shot many a half-breed with silver bullets packed with garlic salts.

He has lost count of how many people he has killed. Human beings with demon blood in their veins. Like himself, Lennox, and Madame Brigette, but who have let their blood take control.

Yet Jack is not soulless. He is no robotic killer able to murder anyone he judges too loathsome to live. While he is powered by hate and fury, his own demon blood is buried deep.

He is unable to kill the tar man so casually. Especially while the man in question is bound and helpless.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t do it.

Jack grits his teeth and draws a deep breath. He is aware of Deedee shouting at him through the wall and banging on the plastic shield, but he ignores her. As the tar man continues to chuckle, Jack sets himself and raises his blades.

He means to cut the tar man’s throat. He means to sever his arteries and windpipe, and even to cut the man’s entire head off if he can. He does not know the extent of the tar man’s durability and will not take the chance of his survival, no matter how slim.

Because Jack has moved to stand in front of him, the tar man is able to look him dead in the eye. Even as Jack starts his swing, the tar man continues to laugh.