Horseman: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 10 (The Temple Chronicles)

by Shayne Silvers

  I panted, inhaling great deep breaths, my head throbbing harder now.

  And like a good friend, Anubis decided it would help to pick me up and hurl me out of the boat and into the ocean of lava while I was in the middle of my panic attack.

  I squeezed my toys desperately, begging for help like a lost boy, alone in this scary place. Anubis waited until the last possible moment to rip open a Gateway beneath me – when I was only scant millimeters away from splashing into the bubbling waves of lava. Which meant I was already a few seconds into a very manly scream, wondering where the Gateway was going to deposit me.

  And if I would be safe there.

  If my pet cat would be there to hug me and protect me.

  Where my parents were.

  If… Pan would be there to help with this sudden blinding headache threatening to rip my skull in half. Where are you, Pan!

  Chapter 24

  I slammed into the arms of a big, meaty, black man with all the force of a wet towel.

  Not one of my top three ways to wrap up a Saturday night. I was panting, shaking, and maybe freaking out a little bit, flashing back and forth between my Fae childhood and my sudden trip to Hell. And my head was pounding, making me dizzy and sick to my stomach.

  The big black man pried a white satchel from my hands and quickly draped it over my head to rest on my shoulder. The strap was chain, which was odd.

  Forged metal was… dangerous, wasn’t it? Wood was much safer.

  Then the man was propping me up with both hands, shaking me gently to look into his face. He looked familiar, his eyes glowing a burnt orange color, and his irises were very strangely shaped, like horizontal bars. He looked desperate.

  And he looked to be a disciple in the school of violence.

  He shook me again, causing my headache to bloom with new intensity. “You keep repeating yourself, Temple. Where is Pan? I can help if you just tell me who Pan is!” he pleaded in a strange accent. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you, mate!”

  At his questions, a moment of panic flashed over me, and then rage, and then… confusion.

  What the hell was going on with me? I knew this man, didn’t I? Why had he and his allies been looking for me? And why did he want Pan?

  A bone-deep fear settled into my fingers, making them ache. I was shaking… literally.

  This man… terrified me, for some reason. But where had he come from? How had he found me? Hadn’t I just been in a boat? I shivered with fresh horror at even the idea of that.

  Boats were bad. Very, very bad. Everyone knew that.

  The man repeated his question, and something inside of me just snapped. Anger and fear took over me in a roaring wave, and I unleashed every emotion into one desperate blast.

  I screamed a feral cry as I flung out my free hand and sent him flying a good dozen feet into a stone wall. I was suddenly gripping a stick in my hand.

  I stared down at it, frowning as I tried to remember what it was, why it was both familiar and not familiar.

  It was crackling with red lightning, crimson smoke curling around a giant ruby in the blade, and it felt both content and eager. I studied it, stroking the hilt, silently talking to it, gaining its trust. It stiffened abruptly, surprised that I could talk to it.

  They always were, the first time I spoke back to them.

  I smiled, realizing it hadn’t spoken to anyone in a while. “Oh, you just ate,” I said to it, nodding. “And you’re still hungry.”

  I heard the dangerous man getting back to his feet. He was staring at me, holding out his palms carefully to show me he had no weapons. I glared at him. “You have no idea what I’ve been through!” I shouted at him.

  “Easy, Temple,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was just trying to calm you down. You’ve been gone for hours.”

  I hesitated, feeling suddenly confused. “Temple…” I repeated, thinking desperately.

  He cocked his head uncertainly. “Yes. Let me help you, Temple. I think you bumped your head…” he said, taking a few slow steps towards me, hands still out.

  I cringed the moment he said Temple again, gasping as what felt like a blade scraped the inside of my skull. Then it was gone and I rubbed my head with my free hand. I was… injured. And I was missing something. Something was lost. I was lost… I blinked a few times, massaging my neck. What had I lost?

  I glanced down at the bag on my hip, and then to the hungry spear.

  Then I suddenly noticed what was wrong. “Where’s my Shadow?” I demanded. I couldn’t remember why it was important, but losing my shadow was a death sentence.

  Maybe the big man walking towards me had seen it.

  Wait… did I know him? Had he given me his name? Why was he coming closer?

  Now that I thought about it, watching him approach with deliberately slow steps, I didn’t like the fact that he was an adult. A sneaking, creeping adult, his hands out to catch me. Adults, other than my parents, were enemies, here.

  The man had cocked his head at my question, pretending to be confused. “Your shadow? Probably behind you…” he said. He was good. Was this a trick? They were always trying to trick us, the skulking bastards.

  “No, he’s… missing,” I told him, feeling a wave of dizziness roll over me, and forgetting who was missing. I placed a hand on my head, closing my eyes as the headache began to throb like a deep drum, my eyes feeling like they were bulging with each thud of my heart.

  I sucked a breath through my teeth, gripping the hungry stick in my hand. Hungry stick… That sounded familiar. With a faint ticking sound like a clock in my mind, I recalled it. A giant tree. Friends were near that tree. I swept the area around me, seeing no familiar trees. Where was it? Where was I? How far had I walked if I couldn’t see the damned tree?

  “Peter told me to catch him…” I mumbled, spinning in a slow circle, searching for the tree.

  All I saw was a giant building made of stone.

  And grass. Green grass. I frowned. Why wasn’t it purple?

  And why wasn’t that small bush chiming in the wind? Metal bushes were supposed to chime and jingle. And I didn’t see any telltale flickers of flame that implied pixies or fairies dancing about on their nightly sentry duties.

  Or any of the other boys.

  I was alone. With an adult.

  “Where… is… my… cat…?” I whispered desperately. Talon could help me. He never lost his way. He was my brother. My family. My friend.

  I snarled, curling my lip as I hunched low, ready to run from the man. “What did you do to my cat?” I hissed. “He will devour you…”

  The big man stared back at me, and his eyes glowed like twin bonfires in the moonlight. “I think you need to come with me…”

  “No, no, no, no…” I said as another wave of pain struck my mind, making me drop the spear in my hand. I was panting desperately. “My Shadow. My cat. Where are they, you filthy pirate?” I wheezed.

  He began walking closer, holding out his arms to capture me.

  In sudden desperation, I jumped up, anxious to escape to freedom.

  I rose a foot off the ground and then fell to my rear.

  The man was moving much faster now that he realized I was weakened, land-locked, and vulnerable. In fact, he was running, and shouting for reinforcements, calling out strange names.

  “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight…” I whispered, shivering so hard my teeth were clattering. But he was moving so fast. I had to stop him. Before he woke the others. “I wish I may…” he was so close, now. “I wish I might…” he reached out to me, hands like claws. “Have this wish… I wish tonight,” I wheezed.

  And the man flew up into the air, spread-eagled, gasping in disbelief. He began to roar in outrage and fear. I felt a cold front in the distance and pulled it close like drawing up a blanket over the warmer air, here, creating an instant vortex of wind as the two clashed against each other. The wind ripped at his clothes, sliced into his skin, and bit at his eyes wi
th dust and debris.

  I lay on my back, staring up at him. In defense against the wind scoring his flesh, great scaled wings suddenly exploded from his back, attempting to protect himself from the torrent of power, making him look like a winged crocodile. I knew he’d been dangerous.

  “Where. Is. My. Cat?” I snarled, loud enough for him to hear over the vortex of wind tearing at him from every direction.

  I began stretching out his limbs, ready to rip him to pieces, weaving beams of moonlight and affixing them to his appendages, ready to rip the wings off this fly. All the while, my wind pounded, tore, shredded, and hammered at him from every direction.

  I would do anything for Talon the Devourer. My best friend.

  “Nate, STOP!” a booming voice shouted.

  I ignored them, wondering if my victim was named Nate.

  I was going to make an example of this one.

  “He doesn’t understand!” a familiar voice snarled. “WYLDE! GAME OVER!”

  And I released the man from midair, letting him collapse to the ground. My cat, Talon, had finally shown up to help me. To save me. Moments later, he was hovering above me, thumbing back my eyelids.

  “Hey, Tal,” I whispered. “I got him. Filthy pirate. But I think I lost my shadow…” I admitted, beginning to cry. “Help me find it? You’re better at catching them…”

  Tal gasped inwardly, and I saw tears flowing down his furry cheeks. But something was wrong. He looked so… old.

  None of us looked old.

  Well, except my parents. But they were safe.

  “Yes, Wylde…” Tal breathed. “You got him. Thanks for saving us. But never fear. Your Shadow is here. I’m here, brother…” and one of his tears hit my own cheeks.

  I grabbed it, plucking the tear off my cheek and watching as I rolled it back and forth over my knuckles playfully. Then I made a fist, drinking it into my heart.

  Tal gasped, sobbing openly at the gesture of undying loyalty.

  Finally, feeling safe, I closed my eyes to sleep.

  It was a good night to sleep under the stars. It had been a few days since we’d done that.

  Something Tal had said tickled a memory, but I was too tired to grasp it.

  “Never… never… never…” I murmured as Tal scooped me up in his arms and carried me to shelter.

  But I fell asleep before I could finish the thought. I’d ask him at Mess in the morning. After our food fight, of course…

  Chapter 25

  I stood in a cavernous marble forest – the pillars were too wide for me to wrap my arms around and they climbed so high that I couldn’t see what they supported. Silver and black veins streaked the white marble, and as I looked closer, I even spotted a few golden traceries. Despite the place being empty and devoid of inhabitants, no dust covered the pristine marble pillars or floor – they were clean enough to reflect the flames of torches in their richly-embellished silver sconces.

  My mind flickered between confusion and amused recognition, back and forth like a metronome, my very brain seeming to throb.

  I began turning in a circle to study my surroundings but stiffened at the sound of scraping stone. I waited, ready for an attack, but the sound had ceased the moment I caught onto it. I resumed my slow circle, and the sound returned.

  Directly behind me.

  I spun, hands out to grip and shred the inferior form of existence with my bare…

  I blinked, staring out at my hands. Because they were not hands, but claws. Wicked, stone claws of black quartz. And I knew—

  I immediately cringed, rolling my shoulders like some unseen person had just trailed a cold fingernail down my spine. A warm, relaxing sensation rolled over me in its wake, and my headache vanished in a heartbeat.

  The brief concern I had felt was abruptly replaced by idle amusement. Had the Smiths forged me some new gauntlets? I thought to myself. I inspected my hands, turning them this way and that, but frowned as I realized they were part of me, not a Sung Armor piece. I studied myself more directly, finding that my entire form was this stone flesh, and the sound I had heard behind me was…

  A pair of long, skeletal wings extending from my shoulders – but there was no membrane between the spines to aid in flight. Curious… I thought to myself. The stone spines looked to be cracked and fragile. I couldn’t discern if it was an injury, or something trying to break free from within. It didn’t hurt, so I dismissed it.

  An idle thought came to mind. This was a Dream Orb. It had to be. One of my siblings was playing a prank on me, turning me into a monster while I slumbered in the Ether.

  I let out a laugh, shaking my head. I’d return the favor eventually. With nothing else to do until the Dream Orb popped, I decided to explore. I began to walk onward, choosing a direction at random. This Song wasn’t complete, but rather shadowy and dark at the edges where the Singer had chosen not to flesh out the myriad of harmonies required to make Dream Orbs so authentic so as to force the victim to mistake them for actual reality.

  There was a fragile, enclosed feeling to the place, letting me know I wasn’t outdoors. “Shoddy work,” I muttered, shaking my head. I’d been in this Dream Orb before. I knew that much, even if I couldn’t recall the details of my earlier visits. A soft voice – like a memory of a dream, whispering on the currents of time – drifted into the edge of my thoughts. Upon acknowledgment, it was suddenly a shouted Song.

  HORSEMAN!

  I jolted, a sharp pain lashing my temples. I crouched down, hissing as I clutched my head between my palms. The warm, soothing sensation over my neck had simply fled, replaced with an alarmed sense of panic.

  “What… the fuck is a Dream Orb?” I whispered out loud, my voice echoing slightly in the midst of the marble columns. The headache faded and I stood, blinking slowly. What had that been about? Those hadn’t been my thoughts… Hadn’t been me…

  “I am Nate Temple…” I murmured woozily. I didn’t remember arriving at this place, or how I had traveled here, but my mind was a murky fog, full of half-remembered euphoric dreams and half-forgotten debilitating nightmares.

  I studied my surroundings warily. Someone was here, messing with my mind. But the harder I tried to discover the source, the more severe the aching throb in my head grew, warning me not to think too hard in this… place.

  But focusing on my wings had helped kick him out of my head. Because I knew what they were. My Horseman wings. I latched onto that thought, letting it ground me firmly.

  “I’m the Horseman of Hope,” I said aloud, feeling that enticing sense of relaxation struggling to subsume my body and mind, but it rebounded on contact with my rock-solid belief and acceptance that I was a Horseman.

  “Horseman of Hope,” I repeated defiantly, gritting my teeth. The sensation of that other being departed in search of easier prey. I hoped…

  I shivered involuntarily and resumed my walk, wanting away from this area. Torches popped to life ahead of me and extinguished behind me, but I felt no whispers of magic causing it. They just changed. I altered my course, angling to the right between more columns, and the torches lit in different sequences, the flames in slightly different, muted, chromatic hues.

  The sound of my stone wings dragging across the floor echoed as I moved. Was… my Mask trying to protect me from… whatever that other being had been? The one trying to use my body like a puppet? I began flexing my fists, the sound of grating stone like a constant reminder of who I was, preventing that other… thing from taking over again.

  I soon came upon an arcing ring of three steps descending down into a luxurious royal suite of sorts. A titanic bed built from precious metals sat against the far wall – the first border I had found in this place of fog and mirrors.

  Then I saw her.

  My heart shuddered out of rhythm, then kicked back into overdrive to make up for it.

  Callie Penrose stood on the other side of the bedroom area, leaning out over a balcony, her back facing me. She wore some kind of white toga, her pale hair s
eeming to glow. She was shaking her head piteously at what she saw. Storms, War, damnation, chaos… I thought to myself, somehow knowing what she was seeing.

  Because… I had seen it before. A shredded, beaten down castle on the horizon, armies on the march to demolish the last remnants of an already failed and forgotten kingdom.

  Camelot.

  “A waste of manpower,” I whispered under my breath, not consciously deciding to speak.

  Callie spun around, stepping into the shadows as she searched for the source of the sound – the echo of my voice. But she apparently couldn’t see me, just like I couldn’t make her out clearly in the shadows. The balcony behind her looked damaged, as if struck with a powerful force, small piles of rubble on the ground where she had stood. Had she done that?

  I remained silent, not wanting to spook her as she approached the room, slipping from shadow to shadow. She looked as if she hadn’t realized anything beyond the balcony existed before my voice had alerted her. But she stopped at the top of the stairs, distracted by the room between us, still not noticing me opposite her.

  She wore a bandage around her head, covering her eyes, and twin silver trails streaked down her dirty, scratched cheeks. I tensed instinctively, suddenly furious that she had been attacked, but she didn’t look to be in pain. She wore a brilliant white toga, leaving one shoulder bare, and her forearms were wrapped in stained gauze.

  I devoured her with my eyes, my fingers flexing subconsciously.

  It was a primal sensation, not a purely physical one. As if her very being was drawing me in, not just her beauty. I followed her gaze, studying the room in an effort to peel my eyes from her allure.

  Her gaze tracked to the exotic, priceless bed – large enough for a dozen people – and then the wall behind the intricate headboard. The wall was some form of natural spring because crisp, tantalizing water dribbled down the surface in an eternal flow.