Free Give the Devil His Due (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book Three) by Rob Blackwell Page A

The test was simple; all he had to do was punch and break a thin, wooden board. But try as he might, he couldn’t do it, jabbing uselessly at the board and bruising his knuckles in the process.
    The instructor had finally sent for Master Chuang, the karate studio’s owner. He was an intimidating presence, a broad shouldered man in a green uniform who never – so far as Quinn had seen – cracked a smile.
    Master Chuang wordlessly took the place of Quinn’s instructor and stared straight into Quinn’s eyes.
    “You do not believe you can do this,” Master Chuang said.
    “No, sir,” Quinn said.
    “You cannot do something you know is impossible,” Master Chuang said. “You have to choose what to believe. You either believe you can break this board or that you cannot break this board. Which do you choose?”
    Quinn didn’t know what the right answer was. It didn’t matter what he chose, he knew he couldn’t break the board. Believing something else wouldn’t change that.
    “You are wrong,” Master Chuang responded, as if reading his thoughts. “What you believe is everything.”
    Master Chuang pointed at Quinn’s heart.
    “You must believe it here,” he said. “You must choose what you believe and believe it with all your soul.”
    Quinn hadn’t fully understood what he was told; however, he had absorbed enough of the lesson. When Master Chuang presented the board to him again, Quinn quieted his doubts. Something clicked into place for him, a strange certainty that erased his remaining fears. Master Chuang counted off and when he punched the board, the wood didn’t just break — it shattered.
    The memory flashed through his mind in the fraction of a second that he watched the scarecrow raise his arm. Quinn stopped wondering if he could get there in time and instead simply looked for a way to stop the scarecrow.
    He saw the rock out of the corner of his eye. It was large and round, shaped more like a baseball than an actual stone. He didn’t question how it got there precisely when he needed it. Nor did he worry about the fact that he had never been particularly adept at throwing. Instead, a voice whispered in his head, “You must choose what you believe and believe it with all your soul.”
    Without slowing his sprint, he scooped up the rock on the ground and threw it squarely at the scarecrow’s pumpkin head. Quinn had moved so fast that the figure was still fully extending his arm. The scarecrow was lining up his shot with a practiced ease that signaled he had previously missed Elyssa on purpose, just waiting for Quinn and Janus to arrive.
    But while the scarecrow moved with cocky indifference, Quinn’s rock seemed to move at triple speed, sailing through the air with rapid grace. Just as the scarecrow was about to pull the trigger, the stone hit him in the back of his head.
    Quinn wasn’t sure what he expected and had given no thought to it. Instead of hitting the scarecrow’s pumpkin head and bouncing off, the rock went straight through it, triggering a geyser of pumpkin juice and seeds. The back of his head caved in.
    The scarecrow immediately dropped the crossbow and turned toward Quinn and Janus, his carved face contorted in agony. He lifted his hands to the back of his head as if to hold it together. Instead, he let out a strangled cry and fell to the ground. The rest of his head smashed against the pavement, leaving a headless scarecrow on the ground. Janus prodded the creature with his foot, and straw fell from his clothes. The scarecrow was dead.
    Quinn ran straight to Elyssa, who was tied up against the back wall and still seemed in shock, staring at the mangled scarecrow. Quinn loosened the ropes restraining her and caught her as she fell forward. Grabbing her around the waist, he helped move her out of the booth as she kept muttering. Janus came forward on the other side and helped.
    “You’re okay,” Janus said. “You’re safe now.”
    Elyssa stopped talking and looked at Janus.