Sharpest Sting by Jennifer Estep – Review, Excerpt & Giveaway
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Description:
As Gin Blanco, aka the assassin the Spider, I’m used to having a target on my back. But ever since I started investigating the secret society known as the Circle, that target seems bigger than ever.
Still, I’m trying to relax and enjoy the events leading up to my friends’ wedding when I learn that an old enemy has returned to Ashland. And that’s the just beginning of my latest nightmare. Soon, I have Circle goons watching my every move, but I have no choice but to continue searching for a key piece of evidence against the evil group.
The deeper I dig, the more horrifying secrets I uncover, and the more dangerous things become for me and my friends. Just when I think I finally have a handle on things, a shocking revelation shatters my heart and leaves me with an ugly realization—that betrayal is the sharpest sting of all …
•••••••••••••••
Barb’s Review:
Sharpest Sting by Jennifer Estep is the 18th book in her fantastic Elemental Assassin series. I can’t say enough about how Estep keeps the flow going so smoothly in each and every book in this terrific series, as well as the exciting action throughout. Needless to say, Gin Blanco, the Spider, is one of the best literary kick-ass female heroines, as well as one of my favorites.
In Sharpest Sting, Gin continues to find out more information about the secret powerful Circle Society that was also responsible for killing her mother, father and sister. In the last book, Gin made a discovery who the leader was, and now she is more determined find a way to stop him and the Circle. With help from her awesome friends, Gin searches every where for clues, and during one such trip to the cemetery, she and Owen are attacked by Giants; which they manage to survive by killing the two Giants. Gin realizes she made a mistake in leaving clues that would identify her as the killer.
In between her investigation, she and all our recurring favorites, are preparing for the wedding of Mallory and Mosley. While the ladies are trying on dresses, an enemy of the past will kidnap Gin, Bria and Lorelei, bringing them to the Circle leader, Mason Mitchell, who is actually Gin’s uncle, whom she never knew. Mason threatens Gin will killing all those she loves, unless she finds and brings him a ledger that has been missing for some time; time is of essence, as Gin is desperate to protect her family/friends.
What follows is an exciting, action filled, pulse pounding mystery that will bring Gin into death defying situations. This is always an edge of your seat suspense when following Gin Blanco, as she is always in the middle of a wild violent adventure. There were some major revelations and betrayals, some of which devastates Gin.
I love spending time with Gin, but I also love all the recurring secondary characters that are Gin’s friends and family that she is loyal to, and they are always there for each other. Finn, Owen, Bria, Silvio, Sophie, Jo Jo, Lorelei are all great members of Gin’s group. I also loved spending time with them at the wedding of Mallory and Mosely, only to be rudely disturbed by Mason’s people and Gin is once again kidnapped. To tell too much more would be spoilers, as a lot is revealed and we once again are subject to the terrible suffering Gin must endure, as we pray for her survival.
Tucker, who has been one of the villains for some time, continues to be cold, but every time Gin is in danger, he seems to be there to help her, which has us wondering ‘what is it that we do not know?’ The ending gives us more reasons to suspect there is more secrets in the books ahead.
Jennifer Estep is a master at creating exciting, mind-boggling adventures in each story, and making Gin into such a great heroine. Sharpest Sting was another wonderful action filled addition to this series, which also gives us answers to some questions, as well as surprises that will have us waiting impatiently for the next book. I cannot wait for more adventures of Gin Blanco. If you have not read the Elemental Assassin series, it is time for you to start now.
Sandy’s Review:
SHARPEST STING is the eighteenth full-length instalment in Jennifer Estep’s ELEMENTAL ASSASSIN adult, paranormal, urban fantasy series focusing on Gin Blanco aka The Spider aka The Assassin –the reigning Queen of the paranormal Underworld of Ashland. SHARPEST STING can be read as a stand alone without any difficulty although I recommend reading the series in order for cohesion and backstory. SHARPEST STING begins the latest arc in the series.
SOME BACKGROUND: Years earlier, Gin lost her father to a car accident, then her mother and older sister to a deliberate fire started by a fire elemental, a fire ordered by the notorious group known only as The Circle. Fostered and mentored by Fletcher Lane, Gin would become the fiercest elemental assassin the Underworld would ever know.
NOTE: There are some scenes of graphic violence that may not be suitable for more sensitive readers.
Told from first person perspective (Gin Blanco) using present day and memories from the past, SHARPEST STING begins the latest arc of the Elemental Assassin series focusing on Gin Blanco as the Circle continues to reign supreme in the world of the supernatural. When her friends and family are threatened, Gin is forced to retrieve an item, her mentor and former assassin Fletcher Lane, had stolen and hidden from the man in charge. As Gin and her lover Owen Grayson begin a search of places known to Fletcher Lane, Gin will discover that her connections to the Circle go much deeper than the hated disdain of the Queen of the Underworld, connections that threaten everyone she loves. An ultimatum forces Gin to give into demands as she continues to search for the missing item, demands made by an elemental whose powers overshadow those of all others.
The secondary characters are numerous, colorful and energetic with the return of Gin’s sister Bria, and her step-brother Finn Lane (Bria’s lover); Gin’s assistant /vampire Silvio Sanchez, vampire Roslyn Phillips, police officer and giant Xavier dwarves Jo Jo and Sophia Deveraux, Mallory and Lorelei Parker, as well as Underworld boss and security specialist Liam Carter, vampire Hugh Tucker, elemental and giant Emery Slater, and leader of the Circle Mason Mitchell. Here’s hoping the author has future plans for Silvio and Liam, together.
SHARPEST STING is a story of family, friendships, betrayal and love; hatred, vengeance, power and control. The reader is pulled into the past through Gin’s memories, memories that reveal more about Fletcher Lane, and his connection to the group known as the Circle. The premise is haunting and engaging; the characters are energetic and strong.
I shut the trunk, while Owen hefted the two shovels up onto his shoulder. Together, we left the car and headed into the trees.
I took the lead, slipping through the shadows and scanning the surrounding woods, with Owen creeping along behind me. It was just after nine o’clock on this clear February night, and the luminous full moon and pinprick stars brightened the landscape, as did the crusty patches of snow and ice that still dappled the ground from the most recent winter storm. The woods were utterly still and quiet, and not so much as a breeze rattled the tree branches.
The silence should have reassured me, but a frosty finger of unease slid down my spine, even colder than the night air, and I palmed one of the knives hidden up my sleeves. The mark stamped in the silverstone hilt pressed into the larger, matching scar embedded in my palm—each of them a small circle surrounded by eight thin rays. A spider rune, the symbol for patience.
A pendant shaped like a spider rune hung from a chain around my neck, and the symbol was also stamped into the ring on my right index finger. My Ice magic rippled through both pieces of silverstone jewelry.
Normally, the cool touch of the jewelry on my skin and the solid strength of my knife in my hand would have comforted me but not right now. Or perhaps my continued unease was caused by our destination, along with our mission. I scanned the landscape again, but I only saw the same trees, ice, and shadows as before. The woods seemed to be completely empty, and even the owls, squirrels, and other animals had vanished for the night.
A few minutes later, we reached the edge of the woods. Owen stopped beside me, and we peered out at the area before us.
Blue Ridge Cemetery.
The moon- and starlight clearly illuminated the cemetery, which spread out for acres. An uneven carpet of dull brown winter grass rose and fell with the hills and ridges that creased the land like wrinkles grooved into an elderly dwarf’s face. Tombstones of all shapes and sizes dotted the ground, from square slabs to Celtic crosses to tall, elegant spires topped with wings and other symbols. A few trees rose up here and there, their bare branches hanging over and casting long, bony, fingerlike shadows onto the tombstones below. The shadows filled in many of the names and dates carved into the markers, making the old weathered letters and numbers look like they had just been stamped on the stones in thick, wet black ink.
Most people would have been creeped out to be in the cemetery at night, but I had an extra reason to be uncomfortable: I could hear the tombstones’ wails.
Love, hate, anger, grief, rage, despair. Over time, people’s feelings sink into whatever stone is around them, and few places conjured up more deep, wild, varying emotions than a cemetery. As a Stone elemental, my magic let me hear the soft sobs and bitter, plaintive wails of everyone who had grieved for loved ones, as well as the sly, smug murmurs of happiness from those who had been delighted to see the deceased go into the ground. The sorrow and the satisfaction made for an odd, disturbing, disparate chorus, and the incessant screeching between the two factions caused a dull headache to bloom in the back of my skull.
“Gin?” Owen asked. “Are you okay?”
I blocked out the stones’ cries as best I could and scanned the grounds again, but I didn’t see anyone lurking behind a tree or crouched beside a tombstone. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
We left the woods and went over to a gray stone path that curled through the grass like a dull, tattered ribbon. Owen and I followed the winding walkway for about three hundred feet before stepping off the path and climbing up one of the hills. We stopped atop a ridge that featured a massive maple looming over five graves, each one marked with its own separate tombstone. Another, much larger stone statue shaped like a snowflake was set into the ground above and behind the tombstones, denoting this as a family plot.
The tombstones represented the five members of the Snow family—my mother, Eira; my older sister, Annabella; my younger sister, Bria; and myself, Genevieve Snow. Of course, Bria and I were still alive, although, sadly, the rest of our family was very much dead, thanks to Mab Monroe and Uncle Mason.
Owen rested his hand on my shoulder, letting me know he was there if I wanted to talk. I flashed him a grateful smile and squeezed his hand. Then I moved over to the fifth and final marker—the one for my father, Tristan.
His tombstone was the oldest and most weather-worn, and I crouched down and yanked off the dead kudzu vines that had snaked across the stone. It didn’t take me long to get rid of the frozen, brittle tendrils and reveal the writing underneath.
Tristan. Beloved Husband and Father.
The words flowed across the stone in a simple script, along with the dates of his birth, June 2, and death, March 24, and the corresponding years. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and snapped some photos of the tombstone, zooming in and focusing on the dates. Then I texted the photos to Bria, and also to Silvio Sanchez, my personal assistant.
My sister had left the rehearsal dinner early to work a shift at the police station, so she didn’t respond, although my phone chimed with a new text from my trusty assistant less than a minute later.
Got them. Starting work right now!
“Silvio?” Owen asked in an amused voice.
I tucked my phone back into my pocket. “Yep. There is something seriously wrong with that man. No one should be that eager to work, especially not this late.”
Silvio had also been at the rehearsal dinner, and I had told him where Owen and I were coming afterward. My vampire assistant had an annoying habit of tracking my phone and car, so it was just easier to tell him what I was up to rather than trying to keep it a secret. Silvio had made me promise to send him what was on Tristan’s tombstone so he could start digging up info on my father and see if he could find any clues that would lead me to Mason.
My mother had claimed that my father died in a car accident, although I doubted that was true. No, I had a sneaking suspicion the Circle was behind Tristan’s death, just as the group had been behind my mother’s and Annabella’s murders.
Perhaps Tristan hadn’t liked being under his brother’s thumb and the two of them had some falling-out that led to Mason eliminating my father. Then, later on, Mason had ordered my mother to be killed when he learned that she was planning to expose the Circle. At least, that was what I thought Eira had been planning. So much of this was still just hunches and guesswork on my part.
I’d come here hoping to get some answers, but the information on Tristan’s tombstone didn’t tell me anything new. Frustration flooded my stomach, curdling the fine dinner I’d eaten earlier. Owen was wrong. My motto as the Spider should be More Questions, because that was all I ever seemed to get regarding my parents and Mason.
Owen slung the shovels off his shoulder and crouched down beside me. “I never realized it until right now, but you’ve never told me your father’s last name.”
“That’s because I don’t know what it is.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
“My father died when I was five, so I barely remember him. Ever since we discovered that Mason is the head of the Circle, I’ve been thinking back, trying to remember every little thing I can about my father. But Tristan is just this vague, hazy image in my mind—a nice smile, a warm laugh, a pair of gray eyes like mine.” I shook my head. “I don’t know if that image is real or simply what I want him to be.”
“And Mason?”
I shook my head again. “Nothing. I draw a total blank when it comes to him. I don’t remember anything about my father’s family. I always assumed Tristan didn’t have any family, but of course, now I know that’s not the case. But no matter how hard I try, I haven’t been able to remember anything helpful about Tristan, not even his last name.”
Owen pointed to my mother’s marker. “But Snow is your mother’s last name, and yours too. Not your father’s.”
“I was hoping Tristan’s last name would be on his tombstone, but it’s not.”
“Maybe your father decided to use your mother’s last name,” Owen said. “Maybe he didn’t want anything to do with Mason, not even something as simple as sharing the same surname.”
“That’s what I think too. That Tristan was so disgusted with Mason and the Circle that he disowned himself from their family.”
At least, that was what I hoped. I didn’t want to contemplate the idea that my father might have been just as evil and horrible as Mason was.
“Well, Silvio is working on it now, and if anyone can figure out my father’s last name and where Mason is hiding, then it’s him. But we have another mission.”
Owen lifted the shovels and tapped them point-first against the ground. “Are you sure you want to do this? We don’t have to. I know how hard this is.”
“I appreciate that, but we need more information about the Circle, and this is the only place I can think of where Fletcher might have hidden it. Even Silvio hasn’t been able to crack all the codes in that Circle ledger, and we’re running out of time to decrypt the info before Mason and Tucker target us again.”
A few weeks ago, during an auction of items from Mab Monroe’s estate, I had stumbled across what seemed to be a blue book of Circle secrets. Hugh Tucker had been after the ledger, as had Alanna Eaton, a vampire cannibal. That book had turned out to be a decoy, but I had still ended up with the genuine item. Fletcher Lane, Finn’s dad and my assassin mentor, had given the real ledger to Stuart Mosley for safekeeping years ago, but Fletcher had never gotten a chance to tell Mosley what to do with the tome.
But perhaps the most surprising thing was the fact that my mother had written the book.
I had recognized her handwriting immediately, and Silvio and I had been working to decode the contents ever since. My mother had been some sort of accountant or bookkeeper for the Circle, and the blue ledger chronicled assassinations, kidnappings, and other crimes the group had committed, orchestrated, and profited from, as well as bribes and payments they had doled out to various people.
Silvio was still trying to crack the last few bits of code, but the ledger hadn’t been quite the smoking gun I was hoping for. Sure, it cataloged some of the Circle’s dirty deeds, but most of the crimes were more than twenty years old, and many of the people associated with them were long dead. I wanted—needed—more information about the Circle’s past plots, as well as what its members had been up to in recent years, so I’d come to the cemetery to try to get it.
“Do you really think Fletcher knew how Tristan was connected to the Circle?” Owen asked. “And that Fletcher left something here for you to find? Buried in your father’s grave?”
I shrugged. “If anyone knew about Tristan and Mason, then it was Fletcher. Besides, the old man seemed to know everything else about the Circle.”
Owen tapped the shovels against the ground again, still unsure. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t want to dig up my father’s grave, but Fletcher had left me information in this cemetery before, and it was the only place I hadn’t checked yet.
Owen shifted his stance, and a bit of moonlight slid past his body and hit the tombstone, illuminating a small dark spot in the lower right-hand corner. I scooted forward and leaned down to get a better look at it.
“Find something?” he asked.
“I’m not sure.”
The spot was right above the grass, and I wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t cleared away the dead vines. I yanked up a tuft of grass and tossed it aside, then leaned down lower so that I could get an even better look. It wasn’t a spot at all but rather a rune that had been carved into the tombstone.
And not just any rune—a small circle surrounded by thin rays. My spider rune.
“Fletcher,” I whispered.
I traced my fingers over the rune. Unlike the name and dates on the tombstone, which were neat and smooth and had obviously been done by a carver with professional equipment, this symbol looked thin and jagged, as though it had been crudely scratched into the stone with a blade meant for something else—like an assassin’s knife.
I stared at the knife in my hand, then dug the point into the stone and drew a short line with the blade. My gaze snapped back and forth between my mark and the rune already on the tombstone. They matched exactly.
“Fletcher,” I whispered again. “You sly fox.”
The old man had once again left me a clue from beyond the grave. My heart lifted, excitement zipped through me, and I surged to my feet and turned to grab one of the shovels from Owen. To my surprise, he was also on his feet, frowning and looking off into the distance.
“Something wrong?”
He stabbed his finger toward the bottom of the hill. “There’s a freshly dug grave down there.”
“So what? This is a cemetery.”
Owen shook his head. “So there are no flowers on it. And look where that grave is. I know that spot, Gin, and so do you.”
I peered in that direction. A grave had been recently dug at the bottom of the hill not too far away from where we were. No flowers were strewn across the turned earth, and no funeral wreaths were propped up on metal stands. But what made my heart sink was the grave’s location. Owen was right. I knew that spot all too well.
“That’s Fletcher’s grave.” Shock blasted through me, but it was quickly drowned out by sick understanding. “Someone dug up Fletcher’s grave.”
“Who would do that?” Owen asked. “And why?”
It took me a moment to force the words out past the hard knot of emotion clogging my throat. “Because they were looking for clues, just like we were. They must have thought there was something in Fletcher’s grave—or his casket—worth stealing.”
Owen’s eyes narrowed in understanding. “Like a blue ledger full of Circle secrets?”
“Yeah.”
I kept staring at the grave, not wanting to believe that someone had been so cruel as to disturb Fletcher’s final resting place, even though I was here to do the same thing to my father.
Then my assassin training kicked in, and I realized how much danger we were in. Not only had the grave been freshly dug, but a couple of shovels were propped up against Fletcher’s tombstone.
“We need to get out of here,” I told Owen. “Right now. Before whoever dug up that grave comes back—”
It was as if my whispered words made the very worst possible thing happen. Footsteps crunched on the frosty grass, and two giants rounded a tree and stepped into view at the bottom of the hill, heading straight for Fletcher’s grave.
Jennifer Estep is a New York Times, USA Today, and international bestselling author prowling the streets of her imagination in search of her next fantasy idea.
Jennifer writes the Elemental Assassin urban fantasy series. Sharpest Sting, book #18, will be released Oct. 8.
Jennifer is also the author of the Crown of Shards, Mythos Academy, Black Blade, and Bigtime fantasy series.
For more information on Jennifer and her books, visit www.jenniferestep.com or follow Jennifer on Facebook, Goodreads, Amazon, BookBub, Blog and Twitter. You can also sign up for her newsletter.
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