The Templar Chronicles Omnibus

by Joseph Nassise

  Once again, Echo had triumphed.

  But in the back of his mind Cade realized how close they had come to disaster.

  Next time they might not be so lucky.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Come on! Pull!” Riley yelled from his seat on the flybridge of the Hatteras 50 fishing yacht they’d rented back in Islamorada. Duncan was in the aft cockpit below him, desperately trying to reel in his fifth marlin of the day, while at the same time ignoring the good-natured insults coming from his left where Nick Olsen was seated, a beer in each hand and a grin on his face.

  With the defeat of the Eretiku at the Longfort Containment Facility coming so close on the heels of the confrontation with the necromantic Council of Nine and the recovery of the Spear of Longinus, the higher-ups had decided Echo was due some much needed rest and relaxation. After the debriefings were done, the team had been given two weeks of leave.

  The three sergeants from Echo’s command unit wasted no time in getting out of town. They flew by commercial airline to Miami, rented a car and drove down to Islamorada where their charter boat was waiting for them. For the last six days they had done nothing but fish, drink beer, and bask in the warm Florida sunshine.

  Riley was of the opinion that while danger could bring men closer, fishing can bond them for life. He had a standing deal with one of the charter boat captains on the island; he paid a handsome fee to keep a boat ready and waiting for him and the captain made certain it was available on a moment’s notice. Over the years he’d made it a habit to go out with each of the team’s newcomers, getting to know them in a non-stress environment, doing what he could in that short time to size them up and understand how well they were going to fit into the unit. Those that didn’t pass his unofficial test were quietly transferred out of the unit by Cade, no questions asked.

  Riley had pretty much made up his mind about the new guy before the trip had even gotten underway; Duncan’s performance during the assault on the Necromancer’s stronghold had seen to that. He’d been pleased to see how well the young sergeant had fit in with the two of them and after six days of hard fishing followed by nights of hard drinking, the three were as close as brothers.

  As he watched Duncan struggle with the fish, the satellite phone clipped to the helm console between the depth sounder and the VHF rang. Riley ignored it at first, intent on the battle in the aft cockpit below him, but by the sixth ring his dedication to duty got the better of him. He spun his deck chair around and snatched the phone from its cradle.

  “This had better be good.”

  “I assure you it is, Master Sergeant.”

  The voice was crisp and clean, with more than a hint of arrogance. Riley recognized it immediately and came up out of his chair, surprised into standing nearly at attention. Despite the fact that the man on the other end of the line was some 2500 miles away, Riley’s back was ramrod stiff and he stared out at the horizon directly in front of him, his attention completely focused on what was being said.

  “Sir. My apologies, sir. It won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t, Master Sergeant.”

  Riley held his tongue, though it took some effort. “What can I do for you, Preceptor?”

  “It’s Knight Commander Williams. I haven’t been able to reach him by landline or satellite phone. Nor has he returned any of my pages. In light of recent events, I’m concerned something might have happened to him.”

  Riley let the Preceptor’s comments sink in for a moment. Cade had always treated this man’s predecessor, Preceptor Michaels, with a fair degree of respect but it was equally obvious that he didn’t care for Preceptor Johannson at all. And unlike all of the other combat units in the Templar hierarchy, Echo reported directly to the Seneschal at the Order’s headquarters in Rosslyn, Scotland. If Cade didn’t want to respond to the Preceptor’s attempts at contacting him, he was perfectly within his rights not to do so.

  But those recent events the Preceptor mentioned, including the attacks carried out by the Council of Nine against various Templar commanderies and the discovery of a mole deep within the Order itself, had left everyone shaken. Security was at an all-time high. At a time like this, Cade was unlikely to ignore any attempt at contacting him.

  “What do you want me to do?” Riley asked.

  “I understand you’ve been to the Knight Commander’s residence?”

  “Yes, sir, I have.” Unlike the men in the ranks, the senior commanders were allowed to live in private residences rather than on the commandery grounds. Many did not, but Cade was certainly not a typical Templar commander, and he kept a small piece of property in rural Connecticut not far from the Ravensgate commandery.

  “I’d like you to pay him a visit. Double-check that everything is alright. Once you’ve done so, I want you to report back to me. Understood?”

  Riley didn’t say anything for a moment. He noted the way the sun sparked off the deep blue waters of the Atlantic, inhaled the crisp, clean scent of the ocean air, paused to watch a seagull soar high overhead, hoping for a scrap of bait. It had been a good trip, while it lasted. He sighed and then said into the phone, “Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.”

  Once the decision was made, the three of them moved in earnest. As the other two were bringing in the lines and cleaning up the deck, Riley turned the boat to the west and opened up the throttle. While he wasn’t yet convinced that Cade was in any real danger, he didn’t intend to waste any unnecessary time in proving it one way or the other either. He was headed straight for Miami, where he could catch a direct flight later that afternoon to New York. The other two would take the boat back down to the Keys, square things with the boat’s captain, and then join Riley as soon as they were able.

  Hopefully, they’d get back to headquarters and discover Riley and Cade having a good laugh about the Preceptor’s unnecessary concern.

  *** ***

  The sun had long since fled the coming of night by the time Riley pulled his rented Ford Explorer into the driveway of Cade’s personal residence in the quiet town of Willow Grove later that evening. The house was set a good distance back from the street and nestled amidst a thick grove of oak trees; a quiet, reserved place that seemed to be in direct contrast with Cade’s driven personality, until you considered the fact that even driven men need a sanctuary to call their own. Cade’s black Jeep Wrangler was parked in front of the house and Riley pulled his own vehicle in behind it.

  As he got out of the car, the first faint tendrils of unease began stirring in his gut. The house ahead of him was dark. If Cade was home, and the presence of his Jeep seemed to indicate that he was, then there should have been lights, signs of activity. Instead, the space beyond the windows was dark and lifeless. Riley unzipped his coat, giving him access to the pistol he wore strapped in a shoulder holster, and then climbed the steps and rang the bell. When there was no answer, he rang it again. Finally, he tried the knob.

  The door swung open at the touch of his hand.

  “Cade?” he called, into the darkened interior.

  There was no answer.

  Maybe Cade had simply left his door unlocked, but then again, maybe he hadn’t. In this line of business, Riley had learned to be careful.

  He stepped inside the house and quietly closed the door behind him. He stood there in the darkness, listening for signs of life.

  The house around him was silent and the silence itself felt heavy, ominous even, as if the building was holding its breath, listening back.

  That faint tendril of unease grew into a thick, ropy tentacle that wrapped itself around his heart.

  Riley drew his gun, the heaviness of the weapon providing some sense of reassurance. Holding it in his right hand, he reached out with his left and flipped the light switch, illuminating the foyer and the living room beside him.

  Everything looked to be in its proper place.

  “Cade? You home, man?” Riley called, his concern over being accidentally shot as an intruder by his friend overc
oming his worries that someone else might be present in the house.

  There was no answer.

  Riley moved through the lower rooms, turning on lights as he went. The living room and foyer led into a formal dining room and then a kitchen/great room combination. All were empty. The kitchen sink held a few dirty dishes, but they had been rinsed free of garbage and there was no way of knowing how long they had been there.

  A staircase led upward from the great room and Riley climbed it to the second floor, calling out again as he did so. There still was no answer, but he didn’t take that as evidence that the house was empty. There was always the chance that Cade had been injured and was unable to respond. The upper floor held two guest rooms separated by a guest bath, all of which were empty, and there, at the end of the hall, a master bedroom.

  Turning on the light, Riley was surprised at the Spartan nature of Cade’s personal sanctuary; a bed and a nightstand were the only furniture in the room. Equally surprising was the large photograph hanging on the wall opposite the bed. It was of a young woman, vibrant with life, caught in the act of turning toward the camera with a shy smile on her face. Her long, chestnut hair was in motion, twisting with her, and the light in her eyes made it seem as if she could come alive at any second.

  Riley had no doubt that he was looking at a photo of Cade’s deceased wife, Gabrielle.

  No wonder Cade missed her so.

  Riley flipped the light back off and was turning away when a flash outside the window caught his attention. Crossing the room, he pulled back the edge of the curtain and looked out.

  An old shed stood at the rear of the property and even from here Riley could see the light spilling out of the partially opened door. The faint memory of a conversation in which Cade mentioned his “workshop” swam up from the depths of his mind and he knew that must be what he was looking at. The fact that there were lights on eased his tension somewhat; perhaps Cade was home after all.

  Riley left the bedroom behind, descended the stairs and made his way to the kitchen again where he had noticed a back door during his earlier search. Opening it, he left the house behind, crossed the yard, and approached the workshop.

  He called out again as he did so. “Hey Cade! You in there?”

  There was no answer.

  Up close, he realized the workshop was much bigger than it had first appeared from the bedroom window. It was actually more a barn than a shed, the darkened window high above the door indicative of a second-story even. Riley inserted his hand into the opening between the double doors and pushed. The door rolled open on its well-oiled track without a sound.

  Light spilled out into the darkness.

  Riley cautiously stepped inside.

  He could see immediately that the entire structure had been gutted and rebuilt, turning the lower floor into a well-furnished study. What had once been horse stables was now a large, open room with bookshelves lining the walls and several work tables arranged in a semi-circle facing toward the door. A wood-burning stove stood in the far corner, its thick black pipe running up through the floor of the second story high above.

  He walked into the room, leaving the door open behind him, just in case he had to get out in a hurry. “Hello? Is anyone here?” he called but again was met only with silence.

  He moved over to the closest table. It held several books, a pad of paper, and a mug of half-drunk coffee. A glance inside the cup showed that the cream had begun to curdle, giving Riley the sense that it had stood there untouched for several days. In fact, the whole place had that feeling of emptiness, as if events had been abruptly interrupted.

  On the other side of the tables, he could see that a large mirror had been bolted to the floor in the semi-circle space between them. It seemed a strange place for it, Riley thought, for it would easy for someone to forget it was there and step right on it.

  Step right on it…

  Riley moved over to the other tables, a sudden suspicion flaring. They were covered in books, many of which were propped open to certain pages. He could tell they were old by just looking at them, their pages yellowed, the script elaborate and in many cases decorated with symbols and other illustrations. One table had a stool placed before it and Riley correctly assumed this was where Cade had been working last.

  Only a single volume rested atop this one. A glance at the text told him he wouldn’t be able to understand a word of it; he recognized the strange script as Enochian, the language of the angels, but that was as far as he got. The pages of notes stacked beside it, on the other hand, appeared to be Cade’s English translation. He leafed through several of them, noting that the subject matter dealt with the powers of fallen angels and the ways in which one might bind them to your service. It wasn’t exactly the type of thing you’d expect a knight of the Order to be reading, but Riley wasn’t surprised. Cade would go anywhere, do anything, to understand what had happened to him and his beloved wife on that summer night seven years ago. Reading a few forbidden texts were the least of his sins. But this one might just offer some clue as to where Cade had gone.

  Riley knew that Cade was convinced that the Adversary, that supernatural entity that had murdered his wife and given Cade some unusual gifts of his own, was in fact a fallen angel. Cade also believed that the both the spirit of his dead wife, Gabrielle, and the Adversary himself could be found in the Beyond, that mysterious purgatory-like realm that existed somewhere between this one and the next. One of the strange “powers” the Adversary had given to Cade was the ability to travel into and out of that place.

  And he got there by stepping through the surface of a mirror.

  A glance back down at the floor showed him something he’d missed the first time around. A long black case with silver clasps had been pushed beneath one of the tables. Retrieving it, Riley ran his fingers over the supple leather covering it and then threw open the three small clasps.

  The space where Cade’s blessed sword usually rested was empty.

  The pieces of the puzzle were starting to click into place. Cade’s inability to return phone calls or pages. His empty sword case. The books on understanding and controlling angels. The workshop with the mirror inlaid in the floor.

  Cade was in the Beyond, Riley was all but certain of it.

  From where he stood, Riley could see that the old hay loft above had undergone some changes. It had been walled off into its own enclosed room, with a set of simple wooden steps leading up to a door at this end.

  Considering he’d looked everywhere else, he might as well check that out too, he thought, just to be on the safe side, though he was convinced he’d solved the problem.

  He climbed the steps and opened the door.

  Glass crunched underfoot.

  At the sound, Riley went still; one foot inside the partially opened door, his hand still on the doorknob.

  He stared into the darkness ahead of him, listening.

  No other sound reached his ears.

  Once again, he was convinced he was alone.

  He pushed the door open wide and stepped inside the room, reaching out with his left hand for the light switch as he did so.

  The darkness was banished by a dazzling display of light that was far brighter than he had expected. It was as if that single light bulb was multiplied a thousand times over, with all of the lights coming to life simultaneously. Riley was forced to turn away, shading his eyes as he waited for his vision to adjust, his skin crawling as he realized that he was all but helpless should something choose that moment to take advantage of him.

  But nothing did.

  Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he took a careful look around. What he saw raised his anxiety to new levels.

  The room was drowning in mirrors.

  Broken, shattered mirrors.

  They were everywhere; on the floor, on the walls, on the small table by the doorway. Not a single one was intact, though a few fragile pieces remained hanging resolutely in some of the frames. Most of the glass was scatter
ed across the floor, as if the mirrors had exploded from the inside out.

  Riley’s suspicions were confirmed.

  Traveling to and from the Beyond required incredible amounts of physical energy. Though he’d never been there himself, Riley had observed Cade making the trip a time or two and was at least conversational with the details. Truth be told, you’d never get him to voluntarily cross that line. The tales of the strange and twisted creatures encountered by Cade on his solitary explorations were enough to quench any curiosity he might have, thank you very much. He didn’t need to see them for himself.

  But he’d learned enough through talking with Cade to understand that each and every trip through the barrier, or the Veil, was draining on the traveler. Time and distance were different on the other side and hours there could translate into days here. Should a visitor stay too long, he might find himself dehydrated, famished, even several days older when he returned.

  Repeat trips, particularly in a short time frame, were extremely dangerous.

  From the number of shattered mirrors before him, it appeared the Commander had made dozens of trips across the Veil recently, perhaps even more than that as Riley had no way of knowing how often the mirrors had been replaced.

  That amount of travel was damn near suicidal.

  Just what in heaven had he been thinking?

  As Riley turned away to descend the stairs, a loud crash sounded from the room below.

  Aiming his gun, Riley looked out the doorway.

  The body of a man lay crumpled beside the now shattered mirror in the center of the room. Even from here Riley could recognize him. Cade’s eyes were wide open and he didn’t appear to be breathing.

  Riley rushed down the stairs and over to his side. Kneeling, he placed the fingers of his left hand against Cade’s throat while his eyes scanned the rest of the room, just in case something had followed Cade back from the other side. Riley was able to find a pulse, but only after checking for it twice and even then its threadbare nature was not encouraging.