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

by Shayne Silvers

  “Child abductions?”

  I scowled. “Don’t play coy. I know you’ve been taking children from my world lately.”

  She blinked at me, and then wheezed in laughter. For a good twenty seconds. It looked like it hurt her, but she didn’t stop. “Lately?” she asked. “We’ve been taking your children since the Grimm War, impudent mortal!”

  I simply stared. That… was almost a year ago… She greatly enjoyed the shock on my face.

  I finally shrugged. “We’re all going to die if you don’t take the deal.”

  “How could you do such a thing?”

  I shook my head. “That is not part of our bargain. Accept, and thee shall see.”

  An eternity stretched before us, and I watched as her chest began to crack and crumble like baked clay, pieces of it falling away to shatter to dust. Her arms, where the cane had pierced them, did the same. She groaned, fighting to draw breath, but she set her lips in a hard, defiant line. “I shall not dicker with—”

  “Agreement made,” the Summer Queen whispered directly into my ear. I flinched, rounding on her instinctively. But she was hunched over in pain, eyes fixated on her dying sister, as if sharing the touch of steel that was buried in her chest, eating her alive.

  “Agreement made,” I repeated, and then began to slowly, dramatically unbuckle my belt.

  Alucard let out a surprised, but weakened laugh, pointing animatedly at my crotch. “Sexual heeeaaalling,” he sang.

  I couldn’t help it. I chuckled, but continued to take off my belt.

  She obviously recognized it, eyes staring in disbelief as I stepped up on a large, broken stalag-whatever to reach her. I then pressed the snakeskin belt to the Winter Queen’s chest. Everyone watched in awe as the skin began to heal before our very eyes. The Summer Queen gasped beside me, stepping up closer to inspect the belt. After a few moments, I met her eyes, and placed my palm on the hilt of the sword cane. I arched my brow in question. “I told your sprite that I had some hard iron for you. Didn’t she tell you?” She quivered with outrage, but could do nothing, because she couldn’t pull the sword free from her sister without harming herself. It was iron. Or at least it had enough iron in it to matter. “You didn’t want me leaving this here, did you?” She grimaced, and gave me a weak shake of her head.

  I heard Tory and Alucard climbing to their feet behind me, and I mentally ran back over my bargain. I hid the sudden terror as a thought hit me.

  I hadn’t made them promise we could leave unmolested.

  And I also realized that like Baba’s Familiar, this healing would take more than a single touch of the belt. I had to leave it. With a frustrated curse, I withdrew the blade, kicked the Summer Queen in her chest, right between her stupid Fae boobs, and then dove for Alucard and Tory. The Summer Queen shrieked as she flew. Then I heard her lava claws scraping the icy cavern floor as she scrabbled to pursue us. “You shall never leave the Fae realm!”

  I slammed into my friends, latching onto them with my fists. Then I Shadow Walked our happy asses right out of the Land of the Fae.

  As the world winked to darkness, I wondered how badly I was going to pay for losing Ganesh’s belt. But this thought was trumped by me wondering how many years had passed since we had been in the Fae Realm.

  One always heard stories about such things.

  Time to find out.

  Maybe I would get to wheel Gunnar around in a nursing home for a few years.

  Chapter 61

  The air crackled like shattered rock as we slammed back into the center of the quarry. I absently verified the cane handle was secured to my waist, a habitual gesture. I caught a swift motion off to my right, and instinctively flung up a hand, calling upon my wizard’s gift. It answered, almost making me want to cry. Something heavy came to a sudden halt directly before my hand, and then neatly fell into my palm. I turned to find an arrow resting there.

  I followed the trajectory to find the Huntress staring at me, open-mouthed.

  But I didn’t have time to explain.

  “Nate!” Gunnar roared. “They’re right behind us!”

  And I saw the Huntress suddenly loose three arrows in quick succession, right over my shoulder. Grunts of pain and agony erupted from her targets as I spun to find shifters dropping like flies as they tore after Rufus, Gunnar, and Camilla – who was unconscious and slung over the werewolf’s shoulder. Rufus had three ragged claw marks on his face, right down to the jaw and cheekbone, his face a crimson mask. He saw me, his eyes widened, and he put on a quick burst of speed, finally slapping his hand onto Camilla’s dangling palm – the weakest high-five I had ever seen.

  I frowned, and then suddenly remembered they still thought I needed the two to touch hands for the curse to drop. But so much was going on that I didn’t even try to pretend I felt anything.

  I just began unleashing fireballs.

  I noticed Alucard helping Tory to her feet. I lowered my hands, the onslaught slowing for a moment as Gunnar and crew skidded to a halt near us. Gunnar unceremoniously dumped Camilla into Rufus’ arms and raced to Ashley, still lying unconscious on the ground. He was not gentle in tugging her back closer to us, more concerned with her safety than any new scrapes he may give her. I realized everyone was now staring at Alucard. I turned to see him, eyes closed, squeezing Tory’s shoulders from behind. His skin erupted in golden light, fainter than before, but still brilliant.

  “Porcu-shine power!” I shouted, laughing.

  And spears of luminescent green erupted from Tory’s eyes, hammering into the oncoming horde of monsters like a machine gun. But instead of mowing them down to their deaths, they simply skidded to a halt, blinking a few times as if having just woken up.

  “Help…” Tory whispered, hand vaguely pointing to her right. And I saw similar, if weaker bolts, suddenly flash out from another direction, hammering into the monsters, but this time suddenly filling them with irrational fury. The exact opposite of Tory.

  I stared hard at the child, seeing that she held a weregorilla’s head in each palm, squeezing hard enough for bone to crack, and blood to pour freely from their skulls. Purple power filled her, growing weaker as the gorillas died, but that didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. She had already taken the power she needed to battle Tory on an even playing field.

  Except she had needed two shifters to match Tory’s one Daywalker. I now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was bonded to Tory. If not before, definitely now. Because I could see power flowing both ways between them, feeding off each other, not just Alucard powering Tory, but the other way around, like a supernatural circuit.

  I just wondered how long it would be before they burned each other out.

  With a reptilian roar, a red dragon slammed into the ground beside the Beast Master, and nuzzled her with a bloody snout.

  Misha.

  Tory screamed loud enough to make the army of shifters stumble on their feet, struggling against the conflicting powers battling to control them.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Sonya suddenly sprinted into view, and threw herself closer to Misha, shifting in midair so that a much smaller – but no less deadly – red dragon landed beside her mother. Misha snarled at her in warning, but to me it seemed more like a reprimand. Don’t get in the middle of your parents’ fights.

  Sonya ignored this, walking warily on all fours until she was close enough to sniff her mother, as if testing the veracity of what she could see with her eyes. She tensed for a good three seconds, abruptly crouched lower, and then let out a soft whine, tail flicking back and forth to slam into the rocky floor in an agitated motion. Then she arched her neck to glance at me, then Tory, and then she slunk to stand beside her mother, staring at me intently. The Beast Master smiled, patting the new dragon on the forehead.

  I blinked, ignoring the two figures stealthily moving about in the background.

  Shit.

  Two red dragons, an army of beasts, and my ragtag crew of wounded warriors. Most of whom would
fall under the spell of whichever Beast Master prevailed. I noticed my spectacles lying broken in the center of the ring, and sighed. Not that they would have done me any good, but maybe Carl knew of some revelation that would get me out of this mess. I could see them standing all around the ring, watching, waiting, impotent to help.

  “You have taken my father. Tried to steal my toys…” the Beast Master hissed, eyes dancing wildly in her scarred face. The two dragons crouched lower, Misha emitting a lance of fire up into the canopy of the tent above, punctuating the child’s words with a final condemnation.

  Canvas and wood began to burn in a concussive whoomp.

  None were going to survive. Whether by battle or fire. We were all dead.

  “Time for me to clean up my mess, take my toys, and go to bed. Nighty night, Maker,” she hissed, raising both hands towards the stunned crowd of beasts. Tory let out a shout, throwing her own hands at the monsters, and I watched as they were literally hammered back and forth, swayed by whichever Beast Master managed to hit them first.

  “Yeah, nighty night, toots,” I smiled sadly at her. She risked a quick glance my way, expecting an attack with my magic.

  But this wasn’t my fight.

  I had done enough.

  Killed enough.

  Failed enough.

  So, she saw me standing still, arms folded, frowning sadly as I watched her.

  And Van Helsing’s sword suddenly erupting out the front of her chest from behind caught her entirely off guard. As did the two arrows that suddenly tore through the palms of her hands.

  The dragons let out fiery roars of surprise, but Tory threw her hands into the air, and a shockwave of green fire expanded out from her in all directions, like a crashing tidal wave.

  Van, having survived the brunt of the conflagration by the Beast Master’s body protecting him – ah, irony… – gave one last twist of his blade, then shoved the child off, sending her crashing to her knees, wounded palms slapping into the quarry as she gasped in agony.

  Rufus had collapsed to the ground, as did everyone else too close to the blast. Even though we weren’t all beasts, the physical force had been violent, enough to affect all of us. Even Alucard lay a dozen feet away, smoking with glittering, golden dust. Gunnar lay slumped over the naked Ashley, protecting her.

  Well, except for Tory of course.

  And me. A ring of black fog clung low to the ground around my feet in a perfect circle, seeming to have gobbled up Tory’s outburst.

  The only other person standing was…

  Misha.

  Wait… that doesn’t make any sense…

  Misha took one single step, and I spotted a single dark scale on an otherwise sea of red scales on her front leg. She growled, shaking her head as she approached Tory, tail lashing. I noticed a flicker of motion on the ground, and murmured, “Strike one…” Misha ignored my warning and took another step, purring hungrily as fire danced across her snout, eyes battling for dominance against the weakened Beast Master. Talk about old flames… “Strike two,” I whispered.

  “You ruined everything, Tory…” the dragon cooed, licking its razor-sharp fangs hungrily. “Control your beasts, woman…” I began shaking my head at Misha, but hesitated as her words tickled my memory. Tory was frowning as well, but shook her head once, and finally lifted her arms, green orbs of power abruptly flaring up around her outstretched palms.

  Pointed directly at Misha.

  But the red dragon didn’t take heed as she took another step, only six paces away now. “Strike three…” I said loudly, voice saddened.

  Arrows suddenly sprouted up across her stomach in rapid succession, wham, wham, wham! They were strong enough to pierce even the thick scales of a dragon, which was goddamned hard to do. The Huntress was growling, lying on the ground with what looked like an injured leg, bow levelled at Misha. I nodded at her in gratitude. She grimaced back in pain, but her gaze quickly flashed back to her victim, and then Tory, making sure she was okay.

  Even though she had been the instrument of Tory’s impending pain – having shot Tory’s lover – she still cared more for Tory’s safety than she feared her wrath.

  The dragon let out a terrible roar, shooting more flames into the air, this time fully igniting the tent around us. It began to rain down around us, burned poles, supports, and canvas. I dove to the side, dodging a particularly large piece of fiery detritus, and shouted, “Tory, we need to get everyone out of here! Wake them up!” But Tory stood, face pale as she stared at Misha. First, in horror, but then…

  And I risked a glance at the wounded dragon.

  My heart stopped as a figure calmly strode across the ring, staring down at the woman now lying on the floor, stomach perforated with three arrows.

  Except the woman didn’t have red hair.

  A shimmering stone was embedded in her forearm, glinting like a shiny black diamond. Like the single black scale I had seen on the dragon’s skin.

  I couldn’t move.

  It was Indie.

  And Ichabod was somehow crouched over her, whispering something to her. My grandfather. I began to shake, and fire suddenly engulfed my fists.

  Instead of sparks, snowflakes of fire – perfect crystalline patterns – fell to the ground around me. The power grew in intensity, shifting to white as the heat intensified, but I didn’t feel a thing.

  Well, physically.

  But inside, I felt a whole hell of a lot.

  “You…” I began, panting hoarsely. Ichabod slowly turned to assess me, a hard line on his face, waiting. “You’ve been here this whole time. Sitting. Drinking. Being… entertained.”

  The flames shot up my arms, engulfing my shoulders, and I saw Van’s face go pale as he scooted further from Ground Zero. “It was a necessity…” Ichabod replied softly, angrily.

  “Your hunger for the Syndicate is strong enough to watch mentally abused children fight to the death…” I hissed, the ground around me suddenly sheathed in hoarfrost. Spikes of the frost grew taller, almost as if watching a fast-forward of the Winter season passing us by. The daggers of frost curved away from my feet, leaving me unimpeded, but surrounded by a small circle of knee-high frosted knives.

  “The Beast Master was going to host the Syndicate’s party during the Winter Solstice. Do you have any idea what we could have accomplished if you hadn’t ruined everything, you petulant child?” he roared, fists clenching at his sides. “Yes. In war, there are casualties. I don’t like it, but I care more about the big picture. Sometimes a pawn must be sacrificed to take the queen.”

  The rock quarry began to shake, a steady hum of power as rocks rumbled down from the heights surrounding the fighting ring. And I realized I was causing it, my wizard’s power way stronger than it had ever been before. “Kids…” I took a step closer, crystalline ice crunching under my foot. “Are not pawns. And neither…” my eyes fell on Indie, stirring lightly on the ground, “…is my fiancée!” and I leveled everything I had at him.

  Chapter 62

  A wall of water identical to the temperature of the pool from the Fae Realm suddenly roared twenty feet tall, barreling towards Ichabod. With a thought, I slashed an opening in the wall for Indie, so that the water surrounded her but didn’t actually touch her.

  It felt good to use this again. No more hesitation. No more confusion.

  Back to my roots.

  And right now, those roots wanted to make up for lost time.

  Ichabod’s eyes widened in confusion for all of a second as he stared at me, but he threw up a hand in a defensive gesture against the water at the last moment.

  I dropped the temperature a single degree, and cast a blast of air behind the now frozen water, effectively turning it into the world’s largest shrapnel grenade.

  Right at my beloved ancestor.

  A fire monster instantly coalesced before the explosion, a giant horned beast complete with a trident blazing like lava – the surface constantly cooling and crackling to solid rock upon each hit
of the thousand shards of ice, only to be replaced by yet more oozing lava a moment later.

  First round over, I found Ichabod staring at me as his fire-construct crashed to the rock floor in a shower of white-hot coals. I vaporized the rock beneath him with a thought, and flung up my hand to the sky. He disappeared with a shout, only to fall from three stories above, pummeling to the ground at three times the speed of gravity.

  I had never thought to use a Gateway offensively before.

  I wasn’t sure where the knowledge was coming from. Maybe it was my brief experience as a Maker forcing me to rethink how magic worked. Even though I had been a horribly inefficient Maker. Regardless, it was fun to finally not feel clueless in a fight.

  Before Ichabod could slam into the earth, hopefully breaking every bone in his body, wings abruptly sprouted from his back – inky black, and dripping blood as they flared out, showering the air above us with purple rain. Purple rain… come on! Then I panicked, throwing up a last second dome of air around my friends. The rain struck the dome and hissed like water on a hot griddle. Because it wasn’t rain. It was freaking acid. I threw my hands at him, casting razor-thin wires of air in rapid succession, almost too thin to see.

  They severed Ichabod’s wings, and he finally hammered down into the ground. He scrambled to his feet, face crimson with rage. I grabbed my knees, feigning exhaustion.

  My wrists chafed.

  “Time for another lesson, wizard…” Ichabod hissed, obviously picking up on the fact that I wasn’t using my Maker’s power.

  And he threw everything he had at me.

  A wave of souls flew at me, claws of shadow and bone, nightmares and despair. They struck me, and disappeared in a puff of smoke. I dusted off my shoulders with exaggerated motions, and then met his eyes. He stared at me incredulously.

  “One move, Ichabod… one move, and all my dreams come true…” I smiled, staring into his eyes. I strode over to him, panting with rage. “Everyone, prepare to kill him. He’ll block half of us, so I want to make sure someone gets through if I so much as desire him to die.” His eyes tightened. The idea was actually very smart. He was powerful. Strong. And a Maker who knew his stuff. But with so many instruments of death aimed at him, at least one would get through.