Beast Master: A Novel in The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series (The Temple Chronicles Book 5)

by Shayne Silvers

  I scowled back, but knew he was likely right about a fight. I didn’t let him gain the satisfaction of that though. “What the hell are you doing in my city, in my home, and why didn’t you tell me you two were stopping by?”

  “First off, if this is anyone’s home, it’s mine. Secondly, I don’t find it necessary to check in with my… nephew, or whatever the hell you are. My comings and goings are my own.” He grinned darkly. “As are your fiancée’s, apparently.”

  “I will skin you alive.”

  “I’m growing weary of this. Cease or be deceased,” He warned. Then he blinked, cocking his head as he stared at me, looking like a fox in a henhouse. “My, my, my. You truly are dangerous. To yourself!” and he began to laugh, hard. “You allowed a mere wizard to curse you? A Maker? I truly underestimated your vast powers.”

  I growled, gripping the cane at my fist, which seemed to get his attention really quickly. I glanced down to find it crackling with purple sparks. When I looked back up, Ichabod’s face was no longer as arrogant. While he didn’t look scared, he did look… concerned.

  “Want to see my stick?” I smiled.

  He studied me thoughtfully. “Enough posturing. I came here to speak with you.”

  “And here I thought that’s what we were doing.” I grinned at him with my teeth, still clutching my cane. “Well? I’m not much into harboring a criminal, so what’s the story from the airport?”

  He grimaced. “We were… questioned by security.”

  “That’s just awful. Did she forget they don’t allow swords on planes?”

  “She didn’t carry a sword. That was a construct. When she tapped into my Maker power.”

  I stared. “She can do that?”

  “She’s quite proficient at mimicking the powers around her.”

  “Why was it dripping blood?”

  “Because she’s overly dramatic,” he rolled his eyes. “I can’t imagine who she learned that from…” his eyes rested on me for a moment. I didn’t rise to the bait. “I assure you, none were harmed… well, none were seriously harmed,” he amended.

  “Okay, why are you here, and why didn’t you reach out first?”

  “I thought I made that abundantly clear. You are not my parole officer. I come and go as I please.”

  “Fine. Would you tell me why you’re here? Pretty please?” I batted my eyelashes at him.

  “We are hunting for a woman. Loosely tied to the group… that Silver Tongue worked for.”

  I grew suddenly interested. “Oh? I haven’t sensed any Syndi… any of them in St. Louis.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  I scowled. “No sparks, fires, or embers,” I clarified.

  “She is… different. She is also reclusive. And dangerous.”

  “Well, I’m not sure I can be of much help. Even though you did ask so nicely.”

  “On this we can agree. You would be of no help.” He smiled.

  “I meant that I’m otherwise engaged.”

  “Oh, I’m well aware of your engagement, if you recall…” he smiled like a shark.

  “You know, one of these days, I’m going to have to disagree with you,” I warned. “Strenuously.” How dare he mock me so blatantly? If I didn’t have this stupid curse on my power, there would be a pile of ash where he stood. That is, unless he whooped my ass again. The Dark Presence tried to take control again, so hungry for destruction. I fought it back down, getting better at managing his mood swings. Still, I imagined Ichabod’s demise. Very visually. Details and everything, for a few seconds. I closed my eyes with a smile. “Okay, I’m better now.”

  He frowned at me. “Your choice of allies is… different than the last time we met.”

  “Don’t worry about my friends. Why did you come to Chateau Falco, Ichabod? I’ve got more important things to do than fantasizing about your slow, painful death every time you open your mouth. Let’s just wrap this up, shall we?”

  He glanced at the empty room to my left. “I tried visiting the Vaults earlier, but they were closed. Know anything about that?”

  “Whoops.” And to be honest, I did feel kind of bad about it. Just another instance where one small action had gone so bad. Story of my life.

  “This is no laughing matter.” This time he pointed at the empty room beside me. “With the Vaults closed, I’ll need my gemstones. Where are they?”

  “You mean those really pretty ones you left in my house? I used them. Threw a wild party. You know, I might have even sent you an invitation. If, for example, you had let me know you were stopping by—”

  I was slammed into the wall, and hung suspended a good foot off the ground, unable to breathe.

  “Where. Is. My. Money?” he hissed.

  “G-gone. Poof. Almost like magic.” I managed.

  He dropped me to the ground with a growl, climbing to his feet. “You have exactly two days to get it to me. I have need of it.”

  “Oh yeah? Or what?”

  “I will kill you.” He didn’t blink. Or twitch. Or make any motion at all. It was the same tone I imagined Big G used when he said Let there be light.

  “We’ll talk about it. You never actually told me to leave them alone. In fact, you encouraged the opposite. I used them for a… side project.”

  “Grimmtech,” he murmured thoughtfully. I nodded. He was silent for a time, watching me. “I can find other means to get funds. But you will grant me partial ownership in the company, or you will owe me my money in two days.”

  “I don’t have time for this, old man.”

  “You are quite right. You don’t have time to deny your ancestor. As in, you will no longer have any time if you do not pay me back. In two days.” He stood. “It’s time I leave. I have another child to train. I don’t have the patience for both of you. Even a Temple can only do so much…” he smiled darkly.

  I heard a sound in the hall and whirled, ready to attack. Mallory appeared from the dark shadows, staring at me, then the room, intently. “Master Temple?” he asked, warily. Rufus stood a few steps behind him, not speaking.

  I growled, glancing over my shoulder, waiting for Ichabod to snidely respond that he was the Master Temple. But he was gone. Sir Muffle Paws sat primly on the desk, flicking his tail.

  I sighed. “Yes, Mallory?”

  He studied me, then the cat. “Who were ye speaking to?”

  I snarled as I shoved past him. “The cat, you idiot,” I snapped sarcastically. “I’m not completely daft, you know.”

  “Of course, Master Temple…” but he didn’t sound like he meant it, which only made me angrier.

  “I need to go kill someone. Or hurt someone. Any ideas?”

  He quickly caught up to me, shooting me a concerned glance. “No. I prefer it not be one o’ us.” He shot me a weak grin. Rufus made a small sound from the back of his throat.

  I grunted, letting my gaze rest on Rufus for a few seconds. “We’ll see.”

  Chapter 37

  Othello looked up as I entered the room. Her face tightened. She was working on my computer, since I had destroyed her laptop a few hours ago. After leaving the sublevels, I had come back to growl at her to find Indie and look into Van’s claim about the location of the last abduction. Then I had left, not waiting for a response. I had gone to take a shower and cool my head. I now wore a St. Louis Cardinals tee that Indie had bought me months ago, but I hadn’t ever worn it. I was angry, and it was red. And Indie had bought it. Since she was one source of my frustration, I threw it on like a battle standard. Man logic. “Anything?” I asked Othello sharply.

  To be honest, I was surprised she hadn’t fled at my earlier rudeness. Of course, I could only admit that now because I had taken a breather.

  “No. Nothing on Indie.”

  “The other thing, then.”

  She hesitated, pounding furiously at the keys. “No. Nothing on that, either. At least, nothing to corroborate Van’s claim—”

  There was a shouting from behind me. I spun, unsheathing the
sword cane at my hip. Mallory stumbled into the hallway, carrying Van Helsing in his arms. The Huntress trailed him nervously, eyes locked on the wounded man. Blood dripped freely from his fingertips, and he looked entirely unconscious. Or dead.

  “What the hell happened?” I roared, sheathing my cane.

  The Huntress answered. “We were tailing the wolf, like you asked. He went inside a dark warehouse. There was a loud scuffle, gunshots, and then the wolf left, covered in blood. We couldn’t follow since he had his pack of wolves with him. We went inside the building, thinking you would at least want to know what he had been doing inside.” She paused, indicating the infamous Van Helsing. “This is what we found. In a pool of blood.”

  I shook my head in disbelief, my mind piecing together disparate facts. Van had been attacked by my best friend in a random warehouse. The same warehouse I could almost guarantee he had intended to use to return the werecat to his father.

  Because I had told him to.

  And as a result of my command, he had been attacked by my best friend, the once-peaceful werewolf. But how had Gunnar known—

  “He’s bleeding out,” Mallory growled, roughly shoving past me to dump Van Helsing on my couch. I quickly swooped in and picked up my copy of Through the Looking-Glass, and placed it on a shelf. I didn’t need anyone bleeding on it. Or asking questions about it. Othello watched me silently, taking note of my motion, although everyone else seemed preoccupied.

  I studied Van Helsing. He had vicious claw and bite marks on his body, face, and arms. At least I didn’t need to worry about him becoming a shifter. If he survived, that was. “Shit. Gunnar did this?” I asked out loud.

  The Huntress nodded slowly. “Bone and claw are the only thing that could harm this man.”

  “But you heard gunshots. Van must have hit Gunnar. At least once. He’s a good shot. Gunnar might be dying. We need to find—”

  The Huntress gripped my arm. “The Alpha is fine. I saw his eye when he left. It danced with madness. He was unharmed. He looked only… hungry.”

  I stared at her wordlessly. Mallory cleared his throat. “Ye need to heal him.”

  I froze. I didn’t know much about healing. “I… don’t have enough power.” A thought hit me. “Get Rufus.”

  Mallory studied me with a dark scowl. “Rufus is the only reason he’s alive right now. He used up the last of his power to bring him this far back from death. He passed out in the car.”

  “Good lord. What the hell did Gunnar do to him?” I murmured, more to myself.

  “What didn’t he do to him, more like it,” The Huntress whispered, sounding alarmed for the first time I had ever heard. I searched her eyes, and she noticed, glancing up. “I have never seen someone with that look in their eye. Van is a… formidable opponent. Gunnar exited the building looking… well, not even winded. More as if he had just finished a warm-up. He has… changed since first we met. From what I found at the scene, your friend did not even attempt to restrain himself. In fact, it seemed he rather enjoyed himself…”

  I nodded absently, turning to Mallory. “What about you? You know how to heal.”

  Mallory nodded. “Aye, I do.” But he continued to stare down at the wounded man.

  “Is this a new form of healing where we simply stare at him?”

  Mallory slowly turned to face me. “I prefer ye to do it,” he said softly.

  I blinked. “If your preference mattered right now, that would be great. But you work for me. Fucking heal him. Now. We need to figure out what’s going on. Why Gunnar tried to kill him.”

  Mallory folded his arms. “I’m gonna need ye to do it, Laddie.” His face was hard, resolved, and distantly fearful at my potential reaction.

  I threw my hands up. “Would someone mind telling me what the fuck is going on? Why everyone is looking at me like I’m about to burn the house down around us? And why people keep disobeying the simplest of requests?”

  No one answered, but Mallory motioned towards Van. “Please, Laddie. I’d rather not explain why… we have a history…”

  Shit. “Is this something to do with your mysteriously shady background that you won’t tell me about?”

  Mallory lowered his eyes and shrugged.

  “Goddamn it. Fine. But help me out, Mallory. I’m not familiar with healing as a Maker. Feel free to step in at any time. You know, if I run out of power because you are too much of a fucking coward to heal the dying man on my couch. The one you have a history with.” He flinched, but knelt down beside me, eyes locked on Van, practically trembling with barely restrained fury at my scathing words. But he stayed resolute, which made me all sorts of nervous. What was so important to Mallory that he would push me like this over something he could easily heal?

  I closed my eyes, took several deep breaths, and let them out, trying to calm down.

  But I couldn’t. I was too amped up. Gunnar had turned into a psychopath, almost killing Van, going to the Fight Club. My friends were stepping on glass around me, likely placing wagers on my sanity. And someone had to have given Gunnar the information about the abduction site. Which meant someone here was a traitor. And all this overreaction because I had seen my fiancée on the news. I wasn’t that unstable. Sure, it had bothered me, but I wasn’t about to fly off the hinges. I was pissed. Nothing more than any other man would be if his fiancée suddenly chose to fly to the opposite end of the world with his grandfather, not contact him for months, and then suddenly reappear in town without informing him ahead of time.

  So, they thought I was a little off my game.

  And they were right.

  But I wasn’t any more dangerous than usual. Just a little more emotional. A little less rational.

  I felt Van quiver under my fingertips, and quickly checked his pulse. It was thin, barely noticeable, and I realized I didn’t have time to play games. He was literally dying. Right now. And he needed to be healed, because sooner or later the Beast Master would wonder where he had gone. Why he was missing. I shot another look at Mallory, but he quickly averted his gaze. If I still trusted any of the people in the room, I would have gone to grab Ganesh’s belt, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure I had time to fiddle with the safe.

  And… I didn’t trust my friends any longer. None of them deserved to know about the belt.

  “If he dies, it’s on you. If he survives, and I don’t have enough power to save the chimera, it’s on you. If I save the chimera, but any of my friends get hurt because I didn’t have enough magic to stop the bad guys, it’s on you.” I nudged his arm forcefully. “And it won’t matter if I have no magic. I will go shopping at the Armory, and find the most excruciating way to end your mysterious, shady life. The one you continuously refuse to tell me about.” His eyes tightened, but not in anger. More in fear, and understanding. Still resolved on whatever mad quest he had decided. I hoped it was worth it to him.

  Because I meant every single word of my threat.

  I closed my eyes, and reached for the cane handle. My fingers closed around the cool silver hilt, and I felt a beast rise within me as I called out to it. It felt like a dragon stretching out in my chest, eager to play after a long nap. Greetings, Master… it whispered.

  “I need to heal this man. Help me.” I felt Mallory’s arm stiffen beside me, but I ignored him. I didn’t have time to explain. I was pretty sure I didn’t need to speak out loud, but I hadn’t thought about it beforehand. I had never been in a position where I spoke with the voice while others were around, so I had spoken out loud. Rather than having a full conversation in my head.

  Because it made things feel more normal to me. Less insane.

  But it didn’t feel that way now, with others hearing me do it for the first time.

  I ignored them and focused on the voice as it whispered back to me, studying the body before us through my eyes. Tendrils of power drifted from my fingertips, my hand hovering over Van as the Dark Presence assessed the injuries. Then my chest began to pulse with an unseen pressure, my lungs grow
ing tight as the room began to dim to a world of blue hues.

  Silly mortals. Using elements to repair damaged flesh. What is flesh, if not stardust? Why stretch out an old shirt to fix a hole? Grab a handful of stardust, a kiss of moonbeam, a gut and hook of creation’s chaos, and begin to weave. The void and the dust. The blood of gods, and the teardrops of the angels. A pinch of Renaissance, a dash of Crusader’s marrow, and… yes, why not a Samurai’s sacrifice…

  The pressure inside me filled to bursting, and with his last words, I felt my mind fracture with an explosion of blue starlight, like the USS Enterprise taking off into warp speed. I kissed a woman in Venice during Le Carnevale, stabbed a man’s throat during the Siege of Acre in the Middle Ages, and lived as a Samurai receiving his first sword – all in moments, like a montage of old movie highlights.

  The power lit an explosion in the room, visible through my clenched eyelids. I cracked open my eyes as if they were covered in dried clay, and saw a smoky dark orb hovering over Van. Everyone was shouting, but my eyes were transfixed on the orb. Beyond the dark fog’s sphere was a flickering rainbow of colors, like a miniature Aurora Borealis. The orb slowly descended towards Van’s heart.

  Reds and oranges.

  Love.

  Yellows and purples.

  Sacrifice.

  Blues and greens.

  Honor.

  Van gasped as the orb came into contact with his chest… and then pressed inside of him, disappearing from view. He lurched to a sitting position with a shout. His eyes shot open, glowing with white light as he clutched at his heart. His wounds flashed with rainbows of inner light, his eyes shifting with identically-colored flashes. Then he collapsed back into the couch, unconscious.

  You’re welcome, Master. See you soon… the voice whispered, spiraling into the depths of my soul. The world spun crazily, and I cracked my head on something hard before I chased after the voice fleeing deep into my soul, begging to learn the wild magic I had just witnessed.

  Chapter 38