Alan Price and the Temple of Artemis

by Jonathan Yanez

  Titles also by Jonathan Yanez

  The Elite Series

  The Beast Within (Book 1)

  The Trials (Book 2)

  The Judge (Book 3)

  The Steampunk Files

  Steam and Shadows (Book 1)

  The Nephilim Chronicles

  Alan Price and the Colossus of Rhodes (Book 1)

  Thrive

  Bad Land

  Alan Price and the Temple of Artemis

  Text copyright © 2014 Archimedes Books

  All Rights Reserved

  To Ryan, Jenny, Ben, Katie, Aaron, Mary, Cody, Courtney, Jason and Katie. Your support and encouragement from my first book to this one has not gone unappreciated. I wanted to dedicate this book to you for taking this journey with me. Plus it’s really cool to see your name in print.

  “I have set eyes on the wall of lofty Babylon on which is a road for chariots, and the statue of Zeus by the Alpheus, and the hanging gardens, and the colossus of the Sun, and the huge labor of the high pyramids and the vast tomb of Mausolus; but when I saw the house of Artemis that mounted to the clouds, those other marvels lost their brilliancy, and I said, ‘Lo, apart from Olympus, the Sun never looked on aught so grand.’” – Antipater of Sidon 140 B.C.

  Chapter 1

  “Nothing? You’re sure? They didn’t find anything?”

  “No, we visited the six other sites,” the room’s silence grew in volume as Alan waited for any positive news. “Alan, there was nothing there. Perhaps you misunderstood Jacob. You were knocked unconscious. Maybe you’re misremembering—”

  “No,” Alan said. He looked at the leader of the Death Angels with frustration. Desperation for the answers he was seeking but not finding was slowly turning to anger. “That’s what he said. He told me to train and get ready because something worse was coming. He said to turn to the six remaining Wonders of the Ancient World for answers. You must have overlooked something.”

  Seraphim raised an eyebrow, “I understand how eager you are for closure. Still there will be no answers where there are none to be found, no matter how hopeful you are.”

  Alan shook his head sending his shoulder-length blond hair into a frenzy. “I should have gone myself. I should never have let you and the Death Angels search for me.”

  “We all agreed it was the best course of action. You were to stay here and train under Angelica’s and Michael’s supervision while we scoured the remaining sights for clues.”

  Alan took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out slowly through his mouth. Anger at the situation, not Seraphim, was becoming too much for him to contain. “Yeah, that was the plan, wasn’t it? Well, Michael’s been around as much as our deceased friend Jacob. He’s too concerned with Ardat and her sentence to be of any help. Angelica is doing what she can but I don’t even know what I am. I’m back to square one. I have no idea why I have wings when I shouldn’t. I have no idea what I’m becoming.”

  “I understand your concern, my friend, but patience—”

  “If you tell me that patience is a virtue right now, I’m going to lose it.”

  “And if you interrupt me again, I’m going to teach you a lesson in manners with my fist.”

  Alan held Seraphim’s stare for longer than he should. “I need some air.”

  “Yes, you should go.”

  Alan left the warehouse conference room and headed for the exit. He could feel irritation's heat reaching every point of his body. Stalking down the hall, he almost shoulder checked Danielle as she walked out of the kitchen.

  “Whoa, there,” Danielle said fumbling with her peanut butter-covered toasted bagel. “Take it easy, Price, you almost downed my breakfast.” One look at Alan told Danielle all she needed to know. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Define, ‘okay’.”

  Toasted bagel in her right hand Danielle readjusted her glasses with her left. “You know… okay. Do you need anything? Did something happen? Is there anything I can do?”

  “I need answers. Nothing is happening and unless you can tell me why I have blue wings or what Jacob meant in my dream, then no.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to be a jerk about it.”

  Alan shook his head. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault.” Alan moved passed Danielle without another word, leaving the warehouse through the front door.

  ---

  “Jeez,” Danielle said to Seraphim who joined her at the kitchen entrance, “What’s his problem?”

  “He hasn’t been the same since the battle in the desert,” was the Death Angel’s response.

  Something in her voice made Danielle wonder if she knew more. The way she spoke the words as if she was being cautious to not divulge too much. Danielle scrunched her brow before giving a response. In truth, being in the presence of one of the most fearsome warriors ever to live was still a bit disconcerting. “You’re right. He’s angrier now, distant. You really didn’t find anything?” Danielle asked. “What about Alan’s dream? Jacob told him to look to the remaining Wonders of the Ancient World for direction. Do you think he was just hallucinating Jacob’s warning?”

  Seraphim crossed her arms and shrugged. “There was nothing. I sent my entire team and even went myself to half of the locations. I would offer to search further but with the responsibility of guarding such a large amount of supernatural weaponry, my first priority has to be getting the armament to a secret location. It must be guarded day and night.”

  Danielle was caught mid chew as the Death Angel stopped speaking and directed a stern gaze toward her. Danielle prematurely swallowed the rest of her bagel with a cough before responding. “I can’t imagine transporting and guarding that many weapons while searching for Alan’s answers, must be brutal. Michael couldn’t spare any Nephilim or Angels to assist you?”

  “His resources were required to round up the weapons that disappeared with the retreating Fallen. He also needed to secure the Fallen captured after the battle. Although Ardat’s uprising in the desert was brief, it left a mess in its wake.” Seraphim’s voice took on an even sterner tone, something Danielle didn’t think possible. “Has Michael visited recently — either to assist with Alan’s training or to bring news?”

  Danielle cleared her throat. She felt as though she was about to tattletale on a close friend. Her palms moistened as Seraphim impaled her with a grave gaze. “No,” Danielle said just above a whisper. “He’s been—well, he’s been overseeing the imprisonment and sentences of the captured Fallen and their Nephilim.”

  “You mean he’s been neglecting his duties here, including Alan’s training to ensure Ardat’s punishment does not result in her death.”

  “Wow, you said it, not me. Even though he is an Archangel and has the final say in the punishment the Fallen receive, he’ll be fair.”

  “How can he be?” Seraphim asked. “He has to pass judgment on the woman he’s loved for a near eternity. Could you be completely unbiased if it was your decision to make? How far does grace extend to those who have continually turned their back on the Light?”

  Danielle looked down on her cold bagel that was still mostly intact despite the grumbling of her stomach. “I don’t know. Does grace ever run out? I’m sure Michael will figure out a fair way to pass judgment.”

  Let’s hope so,” Seraphim said moving toward the warehouse entrance.

  ---

  It was like he was running in a circle. It was as if his life was a constant battle against the same problems. He was chosen as a Nephilim. Right when he was getting answers and accepting his new reality, Ardat and the Fallen made their move. Now Alan was left with even more questions; why did he have wings and what had Seraphim’s Death Angels misse
d when visiting the remaining Wonders of the Ancient World?

  Alan left the warehouse unsure of his destination but knowing he had to expend some energy. Lately, his frustration and anger levels had been building. The depression and loneliness were taking a back seat to stronger more violent feelings.

  You’ve got to pull yourself together, man. Alan said to himself as he walked in the early morning sun. You’ve never relied on anyone else to help, why are you relying on others now?

  Alan forced his pace to slow as he walked into the abandoned warehouse section on the outskirts of town. The air was dry. He was alone, no other living being in sight. Alan was tempted to yell his frustration into existence hoping the action would somehow release the angst he felt inside. When Alan was out of shouting distance of the warehouse he took a long breath that lifted his shoulders and expanded his chest and screamed, “AHHHHH!”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Alan wasn’t surprised to see her, or that she was able to catch him off guard. After all, it was thanks to her that Alan had learned most of his fighting and stealth skills. “Yeah, Angelica, it’s that bad.”

  His last remaining mentor looked down on him from the top of an abandoned warehouse building to his left. “Seraphim didn’t bring the news you wanted?”

  “Worse than that. She brought news of finding nothing. They must have missed it; I know there’s something there. Just because they haven’t found it doesn’t mean there isn’t a clue. I’m not crazy, Angelica. I didn’t imagine it. Jacob talked to me.”

  Angelica’s face was firm as she jumped down from her perch with the grace of a cat. “I know. I know you’re right. I do think he spoke to you. It sounds like a very Jacob thing to do.” Angelica cracked a grin as the image of her dead friend played through her mind. “I know you only knew him for a short time, Alan, but you would have loved the guy if given more time.”

  “I know I would. I—I still think about him and Arther. Maybe there was something I could have done. Maybe if I could have discovered my wings sooner, I could have save—”

  “Stop.”

  The strength in her voice made Alan pause without having to think. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry just stop blaming yourself. Remember their sacrifice for all of us and live each day to honor the opportunity they gave us. That’s all.”

  Alan was content to let silence fill the coming moments as he wondered for the hundredth time why he felt Arthur and Jacob’s death so deeply. He came up with the same answer he always did. They were his friends. Even after only knowing them for a day, they were the closest relationships to friends he ever had. They were genuine and welcoming. Jacob and Arther both taught him things he would remember until the day he died. In the short time he knew them, they left a lasting impression.

  To most people, knowing someone for a day would not qualify as a friend. For Alan, a man who could count on one hand how many people meant something to him, their deaths were devastating.

  “Don’t get inside your own head again,” his mentor teased. “That’s a crazy place no one wants to be.”

  Alan pushed back his blond hair that closely resembled Angelica’s in hue. The briefest smile touched his lips. “Thanks, Angelica. Listen, I was wondering if we could push today’s training back to this afternoon. I just need some time to myself.”

  Alan knew Angelica could see through his lie. Besides Danielle, his Nephilim instructor was the person who knew him the best. She was also one of the smartest people Alan ever met. The question wasn’t whether she knew he was lying. The question was if she was going to call him out on his deception. She didn’t. “Alright, take some time. Get your head straight. Jacob wanted you to train so we could prepare you for whatever is coming. I’ll speak with Seraphim and see when she can send her Death Angels back to examine the ancient locations again.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Of course.”

  Without a formal good-bye, Angelica left walking back in the direction from which Alan came. Within seconds, Alan was alone again: alone to accept or banish an idea that had been growing in his mind ever since his talk with Seraphim. You wouldn’t miss anything, he reassured himself. If you went to see for yourself, you’d find something for sure.

  Alan continued his walk down the extensive lines of long-abandoned warehouses. You should go. You have to go. What else are you going to do—sit and wait and train more? You could be out there getting answers.

  The more time Alan spent thinking about his next course of action, the more he knew he needed to go. He owed it to himself and to those who sacrificed for him. He had waited long enough. Before Alan could try to convince himself to listen to the voice of reason, he ordered his wings to take shape.

  One of the first things Alan learned was how to control his wings. Although no one knew exactly what Alan was or why he was gifted with wings of blue energy, they discovered his wings operated just like any other limb. His mind told his wings when to recede into his back and when to appear.

  Alan was able to use this knowledge to call on his supernatural talent of flight. Warmth spread from deep within and culminated at the origin point for his paranormal appendages. Heat gathered in his upper back near the space between his shoulder blades.

  In seconds graceful blue wings made of energy extended on either side of him. Alan took a moment to examine them. Over the last month he had done his fair share of inspecting his new wings, but after hours of examination he was no closer to answers. They were wings, they were blue and made out of some kind of heavenly energy, but in the end… they were just wings.

  “All right guys,” Alan said to his wings. “Let’s do this. Let’s go. But which one first?” Since Jacob told Alan each of the six remaining Wonders of the Ancient World held a clue, his resulting obsession led him to vast research; he now knew their history and location intimately. Even as the question came, he had an answer: the Temple of Artemis. Why? He didn’t know, but it called to him.

  Alan weighed his options before he took to the open sky. One location at this point was just as good as any other. The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World were all located close together for someone with the ability of supersonic flight. If he couldn’t find anything at the remains of the Temple of Artemis, he would move on. However some voice, a whisper growing in volume each day, told him he would find his answers at the Temple dedicated to Artemis.

  ---

  Michael sat across from the woman he loved. Even if bars didn’t prohibit physical contact, Michael wasn’t sure if he was ready to touch her. Feelings of love and duty waged an internal war inside the Archangel. Too much had happened over the years to just overlook and embrace her like his heart desired he do. Still, everything inside ordered him to comfort her.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Michael,” Ardat said from her seated position. Her cell consisted of a narrow bed and toilet with a sink. She was guarded day and night. A silver collar hung around her slender neck. She allowed her fingers to play across the metal as she spoke. “Nifty new invention. I wondered how you would keep us restrained once we were captured. These collars inhibit our supernatural gifts, don’t they? Did Gideon make them?”

  Without a word Michael nodded.

  Ardat cocked her head to the side, “What’s wrong, lover? You know what you have to do. I brought this on myself. I thought I could succeed. I thought a day existed where we would be free to lose ourselves in each another’s arms once again. I was fool. I failed. Now I should suffer the consequences. My love for you will not change; not now, not ever.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, but I do, Michael. The laws I broke require a fatal penalty. As the last remaining Archangel, it’s your job to dole out this penalty. You have to condemn me to death. It’s your duty.”

  Michael was beyond tears. A lump the size of his fist worked its way up his throat. No matter how many times he swallowed, it refused to retreat. He knew what he should do. He also knew what he couldn�
�t do. “I won’t be making that decision. I can’t. There’ll be a tribunal meeting to deliberate. They’ll be the ones deciding your fate.”

  Realization struck Ardat, followed by joy a moment later. Her lips turned up at the corners. “So you will not be burdened with the responsibility of sentencing me? Good, I’m glad. I don’t want to see you suffer.”

  Michael didn’t respond. Instead of words, he let silence reign as he focused through her cell bars and held her stare. She was being sincere, that he had no doubt. His mouth was dry. There was no way to make the lump in his throat go away. In that moment, he wondered if it ever would.

  “When is the sentencing?” Ardat asked.

  “The tribunal has already been chosen. They will be meeting soon to decide your fate as well as all those who followed you. You really thought your plan would work?”

  “It nearly did. If it weren’t for Alan Price and the Death Angels, I would have won. There’s something about him, Michael. Something, dangerous.”

  A new realization ran wild across Ardat’s eyes. “Is it that time already? Could he be one of the—”

  “He’s powerful,” Michael interrupted. “His wings mean he is not a Nephilim. I should be with him now. He needs me: he’ll need guidance through the decisions to come.”

  “Then why aren’t you with him now? There isn’t anymore you can do for me.”

  “Stop.”

  Michael’s tone made Ardat sit straight. “What do you mean? Stop what?”

  “Stop with this defeatist attitude. I refuse to believe that you are going to die. I refuse to believe the woman I loved is completely gone. Show some emotion. Fight for your survival, something.” During the course of his outburst Michael rose from his seat and took a step toward Ardat. “I haven’t given up on you. Don’t give up on yourself. Don’t give up on us.”