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

by Shayne Silvers

  I also hadn’t run screaming.

  Because the creature was looking right at me, beak slowly swiveling back and forth. I froze and it hesitated, turning to me with more intent. My heart thundered in my chest at a ridiculous thought, and I resumed my slow walk. The creature immediately lost interest, and I almost collapsed in relief. Could it be possible?

  It could see things standing still more clearly but had trouble with moving objects.

  And judging by how it kept glancing over at the glowing Devourer, it also had an interest in light.

  Which meant taking it away was off the table. So was halting to think about a new plan.

  So, I continued slowly walking between the legs of the creature, careful not to touch it. Stopping meant death, but it was beyond unnerving to be weaving in and out of the legs of a twenty-foot-tall stork, all the while imagining that ten-foot-long beak stabbing into my spine.

  I made two circuits of my slow walk, feeling ridiculous. This thing might not sense motion, but I knew plenty of other things here did. What if they decided to check up on their newly acquired night light?

  I made my decision. I could always risk Shadow Walking back to my hiding place in that boulder, or back to the Dueling Grounds. Grab and dash. I carefully watched my steps so I could reach the Devourer and dislodge it without stopping my walking.

  My fingers latched onto the wooden staff, and I felt my breath catch. It was vibrating like a tuning fork. Was that an indicator that Mordred was nearby, or just an indicator of how angry it was for missing its earlier meals?

  I ran into my first problem when the spear didn’t dislodge easily. I let it go to continue my circuit, because even that momentary hesitation had caused the DemonStork to whip its head my way, narrowly missing me with its beak. That close, I got a very personal whiff of its scent. Like moldy berries, of all things. I continued walking, holding my breath as I realized it meant walking directly past its eye, which was now at my head level.

  I was only inches away from being able to reach out and touch the melon-sized eyeball, but other than sniff at the air, it didn’t so much as notice me. Why did it sniff the air if it couldn’t sense something right in front of it? I realized I didn’t quite care. Out of direct sight, I circled back for another pass at the Devourer, feeling sweat dripping down my forearms.

  I readied myself to try a lot harder, a lot quicker this time, hoping that a few attempts would loosen it enough to tug it free. It was firmly wedged in the giant’s pelvis bone, which would have been hilarious at literally any other moment of my life.

  My Devourer had kabobbed a giant’s family jewels.

  I took a slow, measured breath, and my hand latched onto the spear again.

  I gave it a hard, forceful yank, and was startled that it came free.

  Along with the entire gods-damned skeleton of the giant.

  The bones crumbled into gravel the size of my head, pouring down towards me in a roaring avalanche of sound, dust, and debris, sending the DemonStork to flapping its wings and cawing furiously as its head darted back and forth like a snake. I realized the potential for an errant bone to pound me into mush or knock me down – pinning me in place, where I had no doubt the DemonStork would finally be able to spot me, now motionless and holding his favorite night light. However, if I tried to keep walking, my balance would be off – an easier target for going down if a bone hit me.

  But if I stayed still, the creature would definitely see me.

  So… I stared up at the cascading mountain of bone, planted the spear into the earth so the creature might assume nothing had changed…

  And made the rest of my body mimic one of those inflatable Sky Dancer stick figures you see outside shopping centers. You know, the ones that look like they’re doing their best seaweed interpretive dance.

  I dipped and rolled my hips, flapping my arms slowly, trying to keep in steady, constant motion so the DemonStork didn’t spear me. While doing this, I stared up at the crashing, thundering bones, prepared to dodge and duck as needed.

  It was a very complicated dance.

  Which lets you imagine how surprised I was to find Mordred slipping and sliding, tumbling ass over heels down the pile of bones, having been hiding inside the giant’s skull – revealed only after it toppled and cracked open on the giant’s ribcage.

  Chapter 51

  We locked eyes – him rolling, grunting and flipping down a waterfall of bones, and me doing my seaweed dance, both feeling properly embarrassed, I would imagine. At least mine was a choice. He just looked like a bumbling idiot, where I was creating art.

  The DemonStork flapped its wings again, squawking angrily, but seemed appeased to find his night light still in place. Lucky me, it even lowered its head to stare directly into the light from inches away, its beak dragging across my forearm in the process. I held my breath, struggling to keep up my seaweed dance while keeping my arm rock-solid, ready to Shadow Walk in an instant.

  This gave Mordred a moment to slowly, smoothly scramble to his feet, gently kicking free of his pile of bones. We locked eyes again, and he grinned at my body-rocking art. Then he began mimicking my seaweed dance. I scowled, and realized we were now having a couple’s synchronized seaweed dance.

  Mine looked better. He was only dragging me down.

  The DemonStork hopped back angrily, probably offended by Mordred’s unrealistic seaweed dance, and flapped its wings, buffeting a few frigid blasts of air at us. And since I was now in the unique position to look up as it stretched out its wings, I noticed the underside of its feathers were like smoking ice. Had that been… the source of the frigid blasts I had experienced while walking here? How many of these fucking nightmares had I walked past without realizing it? Like a typical predator mammal, I had only focused on eye-level and below, never considering an assault from above.

  But here, there were giants. And DemonStorks.

  The DemonStork let out a purring coo, and promptly turned its back on us. I let out a sigh of relief, warily noting the eagerness in Mordred’s eyes.

  Then I realized something. I must have dropped my illusion spell, because he was staring right at me. When had I done that? Now that I thought about it, I realized I’d dropped the sensory deafening spell also. Because… my magic was almost entirely gone. My subconscious had shut it down sometime around spotting the DemonStork, likely sensing that it wouldn’t do me any good, and needing to conserve energy.

  I was inwardly terrified that I had apparently done this without thinking. With so many new, strange powers knocking on my door over the years, I should have been used to strange things like this, but this time it only made me concerned.

  I’d think about it later, if we survived.

  I was still doing my seaweed dance, staring down Mordred and the DemonStork when I saw him take a smooth casual step closer to me. My sphincter puckered in alarm, and then I saw the DemonStork lift its rear feathers.

  And got a birds-eye view of it winking at me with its butt cannon.

  Before I could move, it erupted like a mini geyser, and fluorescent green shit jettisoned right between Mordred and I, effectively making a small creek of DemonStork super-shit.

  I say super-shit, because it smelled like rotten, acidic swamp sludge, singeing my nose hairs. And it was eating away at the rock, pitting the stone and pile of bones as it sizzled like an egg on a skillet.

  Mordred was effectively trapped by the creek of super-shit. Sure, he could try and jump over it, but he would risk being harpooned and eaten by the DemonStork, only to become the next bout of fecal matter in the Dark Lands’ Circle of Life.

  I would have been fine with that option.

  Before he could make up his mind on whether his remaining souls would protect him, I took my own gamble, and began slowly walking backwards, smiling acidly at him as I kept the DemonStork in my peripheral vision. She squawked loudly and let loose another super-soaker blast of neon feces, narrowly missing Mordred’s body this time – saved only by his sudd
en devotion to the seaweed dance. I almost burst out laughing, but then the creature began following the light, taking its attention from Mordred’s predicament.

  Well, shit.

  I felt like that actor in Jurassic Park carrying the road flare to distract the T-Rex.

  The DemonStork squawked angrily, slowly following the light, and giving Mordred the chance to leap over the acidic crap stream.

  He also began to follow after me in a casual strut, grinning widely. It was probably the most ridiculous slow-speed pursuit in the history of the world. The DemonStork crushed anything in its path, simply obliterating it under its scaled bird’s feet, much like Baba Yaga’s House.

  We kept this up for some time, and I took note of every time the DemonStork reared up and cawed at some unseen creature, warning it away. Wisely – and thankfully – they listened. Part of me considered how scary some of the local monsters I’d seen were, and that they were all terrified of this DemonStork.

  And that, judging by those arctic bursts of wind, I had apparently walked by quite a few of these DemonStorks without realizing it. I shivered involuntarily, watching both the monster and Mordred following me like I was pulling them on a leash.

  I needed to get back to the Dueling Grounds.

  Sure, I could have used the Tiny Ball in my pocket to get back home – but I would be exhausted and worn out if I did that. Then Mordred would knock on my door, and likely obliterate me. Or I might be lucky enough to bring the DemonStork along with me, forced to tell Dean I had brought home another stray.

  No.

  I had the Devourer now. I had Mordred right where I wanted him… figuratively speaking.

  I just needed to change the battleground.

  I studied the DemonStork as I continued walking backwards, hoping she wasn’t walking me towards a den of monsters who knew to walk slowly in her view. Maybe I was like the Pied Piper, gathering an army of monsters to follow me, all waiting for that singular moment when the DemonStork wasn’t looking to tackle me with a blade to the heart, and then slowly walk away with my corpse, leaving my Devourer for whoever wanted it – that would be Mordred.

  So, I gauged my remaining magic, ignored the almost instant pang of depression it gave me, and ripped a strip of my shirt off. The DemonStork cocked her head, splattering another boulder with her acidic sphincter, but continued after me with barely a pause at the sound of ripping cloth. Mordred was staring at me with cold, calculating eyes.

  I placed the strip of fabric in my teeth, slowly lowering the Devourer so I could let go of the fabric and douse the light. Mordred’s eyes widened in realization and he attempted to pick up his pace. Thankfully, this caught the DemonStork’s attention, answering my inner question of whether moving fast attracted her the same as standing still. I had assumed it would, because natural selection would have likely culled her from their VIP list if not.

  Being unable to spot something running and screaming in the opposite direction would really hinder her chances as an apex predator.

  I quickly formed a ball of liquid fire and sent it screaming at Mordred’s chest. He opened his mouth in disbelief at the weak attack and the fire pelted him, splattering over his torso in a wash of flame. I immediately unclenched my teeth, dropping the fabric over the Devourer’s stone.

  DemonStork shrieked in outrage, darting a beady eye my way, but not spotting the light from the stone, her attention fixated back on Mordred, who was slowly attempting to put out the fire before he burned alive. DemonStork squawked unhappily, obviously sensing the difference in the quality of the light, and suddenly erupted in a full circle shit show, blasting her digested green eggs and ham in every direction.

  Thankfully, I was already ducking around a corner and running for all I was worth, no longer caring about subtlety. Because less than twenty feet away, I noticed the flame of torches that marked the line to the Dueling Grounds.

  A thought hit me, then. That the creatures here were obviously scared of fire, or else they would have crossed over the line of torches long ago.

  Which meant…

  I could have just run around slinging fire from the onset, and it might have worked out.

  I told myself that was ridiculous, and nothing could be that easy.

  Then I heard the DemonStork shrill in agony and sensed the giant pillar of fire behind me as Mordred lit her up.

  “Wizard’s fire, Nate. Fucking wizard’s fire. It’s only, like, the first spell you ever learned…” I snarled, sprinting as fast as I could manage, making my way to the line of torches.

  Something wrapped around my ankle and yanked me from my feet, sending me crashing to the ground where I banged my head harder than I would have liked. I saw the Devourer skittering across the rock, the strip of fabric concealing its light falling free, basically shooting up a warning beacon for any nearby monsters. Then again, the pyre of flaming DemonStork would hopefully catch more attention than my Devourer. I stared up, dazed, seeing the line of torches was only ten feet away, now, as I listened to the sound of slow, measured boots striding up behind me.

  Chapter 52

  I groaned, climbing to my feet as I tried to clear my head. I searched my surroundings for any sign of nearby creatures, or anything I could use as a distraction to make it the last ten feet to the safety of the Dueling Grounds. Unfortunately, I found nothing helpful. I swept the area one last time, Mordred’s boots growing closer, and I saw something strange – a very familiar feather lying on the ground. And it wasn’t old. My heart dropped into my stomach in horror.

  I glanced up sharply at the ring of torches, and saw the crowd of onlookers standing on top of the bleachers, watching in utter disbelief as my Devourer’s red light caught their attention. The newbies were probably wondering if this was just a normal night out at the Fight Club.

  Asterion looked murderous, fists flexed at his sides, as if he was considering charging in here to bitch slap Mordred. Then again, he was a bull, and my Devourer did have a strobing red light on the tip, so…

  I was ten feet away from life. If Mordred killed me there, I would wake up in bed at Chateau Falco.

  But if I let him kill me here, it was for real. Not only was I concerned about my own life, but for all the families of Freaks in St. Louis. Mordred would bootstrap them into his army, sending them marching off to Fae and Camelot.

  Mordred walked out of the darkness, chuckling wickedly. Right between me and the torches.

  Me and the families of St. Louis.

  Me and Life.

  I felt like I was peering through the veil of death at the land of the living. So close, but so far away. And I was too drained to do anything about it. I felt the coin around my neck and shivered at the thought. I wouldn’t go down without a fight, but I was terrified of what would happen if I used it. Did I want the job, or not? It would ultimately come down to the point where I was obligated to take it, my own feelings be damned, because there was no way I was dying without giving it my everything.

  “No more clever little games, Temple. Whatever happens out here is permanent,” Mordred taunted.

  I nodded woodenly, thinking desperately. He was right. Out here, things were permanent. And I now had a very good reason to be concerned.

  Or…

  I locked eyes with Mordred, and then studied the darkness all around us with a regretful sigh. “Bet you can’t make a rainbow,” I finally said. A sudden blast of wind decided to whip at my shirt, buffeting my hair. We both froze, checking the area – not forgetting to look up this time – to make sure it wasn’t some nearby threat. But nothing else stirred. The creatures were all likely searching the area near the bonfire that smelled suspiciously like chicken.

  “Excuse me?” Mordred asked, bewildered.

  “We’re in a place that seems to reject light.” I drew deep on my dwindling magic, letting him see how much it cost me, and that I was running on fumes. A weak, pale rainbow limped to life, dimming rapidly as my power flickered. Then it just winked out with a pathetic
puff. The effort left me wheezing and seeing stars. “I’m spent, man,” I admitted. “But you have to admit, I got in a few good punches. Made you do a stupid dance. Least you could do is give me something pretty to see before you finish it.”

  He stared at me, eyes checking me for some deception. But it wasn’t a lie. I was beat.

  “Just make me a fucking rainbow, bitch,” I muttered, angrily, prodding him.

  Mordred rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll grant your childish dying wish,” he grumbled, seeing I really was as exhausted as I claimed. To be fair, he was, too, especially after lighting up that DemonStork. But he had way more reserves with his remaining Six Souls. He flung his hand out, and made a faint, pastel rainbow, but it puffed out almost as quickly as mine had.

  “Lame,” I said, drawing the word out as I scuffed my boot on the ground. “Make a real rainbow. I want to see if, by yourself, you’re really as powerful as people seem to think. That you’re worth losing to. Shout, ‘I’m Roy G. Biv, bitch!’ as you do it.”

  He blinked incredulously. “Why on Earth would I do something so stupid?”

  I shrugged tiredly. “Humor me. You’ve got me dead to rights. Give me a laugh as I walk to the hangman’s noose.” When he still hesitated, I rolled my eyes. “Just like I thought. You’re nothing without your precious Nine—oops… Six Souls. Without them, you’re just a punk-ass, no-talent wizard with daddy issue—”

  Mordred snarled, both at the challenge, and at the ridiculousness of the request. “I’ll show you the biggest rainbow you’ve ever seen,” he spat, straining as he bloomed with power. I swallowed, realizing two things.