Wild Side: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 7 (The Temple Chronicles)

by Shayne Silvers

Ashley wobbled as Hercules fell onto his back. She slowly turned to the crowd, and snarled in victory. I noticed Alucard still staring at me, horrified as I finally walked out from behind Grimm, ready to complete my to-do list. I shoved the wine goblet at him, and whispered, “Hold my wine for a minute. And watch this.” I didn’t even wait for a response, ignoring the stammering whimpers from the Daywalker as I stared at Indie’s back.

  Which was when she attacked.

  A spear of darkness hammered into Ashley’s kidneys and out of her chest right as I took my second step. I heard Gunnar howl and everyone turned to stare in disbelief at the cowardly attack from Indie.

  Which meant she was literally the only one who didn’t see me stalk up behind her, grab a fistful of her hair, and stab her in the kidneys three times in rapid succession. I glanced down to see a single, black thorn in my fist, as long as my forearm. It dripped crimson as I stared at it.

  No one moved as she fell to the ground at my feet, and the light around me pulsed like a disco ball from my new tattoos. I stared down at her, watching her grunt, squirm, and try to crawl away, still not knowing what had hit her.

  “Hey, Indie. I figured it was time we saw a counselor. You know, to talk about our relationship problems…”

  And I slowly followed her as she tried to crawl away.

  Chapter 63

  The crowd was now a wall of pale faces, and a dozen or so even ran away in horror as they looked upon me. Many were Tory’s students, but I saw a few Myrmidons – the bravest of the brave – slip away. The Huntress had a very firm grip on Alex, and was standing beside Tory and her monsters, well insulated against any up-close surprise attacks. Pegasus stood within one step from Alex, too, forming a wall of flesh against any long-range attacks.

  The blonde-haired, silent guy I had seen astride Pegasus stepped out, shoving Greeks out of his way. “Get out of my way! Don’t you know who I am?” he snapped, earning many cool glances, but no return arguments. He finally broke through and pointed directly at me. But he didn’t look at my face.

  Either he hadn’t seen it yet, or he was refusing to acknowledge it. Judging by the fear on every other face, I assumed the former. I smiled at him, but I didn’t think the Mask relayed such emotions.

  “Where is your honor? Attacking a woman from behind! Rally, you foo—”

  An arrow tore clean through his throat, but it had been aimed at an upwards angle so that the arrow flew high into the sky. I glanced over to see the Huntress kneeling with her new bow, having slipped out from the crowd for a moment.

  “That Jason prick was also a fucking asshole,” Pegasus snorted, which earned a few chuckles.

  Jason? As in, Jason and the Argonauts? I wondered, idly.

  Some nodded at the Huntress, but attention soon riveted back to Indie – who was still crawling away, gasping, too overcome with pain to simply Shadow Walk – or maybe she was too exhausted to flee, having used up all her power in the battle.

  Gunnar had been carried up to Ashley, consequences be damned, and there was no way in hell anyone was getting through the ring of wolves protecting them. His wolves placed him down, and then lay her head in his lap. She gasped at the movement, and Gunnar’s voice cracked in disbelief as he cried out against his will, his wolves suddenly whimpering and whining.

  Everyone thought she had been dead. But I now knew that the only reason she had survived this long was a result of her healing abilities as a shifter. But I had no gift for healing.

  “Get Pan! NOW!” I roared, and the majority of the crowd physically flinched to cover their ears. But I saw a dozen wolves suddenly barrel through a section of bodies in their haste to obey my command and get Pan.

  I watched Ashley shakily reach a claw into her belt pouch, and then hand Gunnar a blood-soaked piece of paper. He accepted it, but his eye never left hers, cradling her face with one paw, and stroking her ears with his lethal black talons.

  The only other sound was the whimpers and dragging scuffle of Indie trying to escape.

  I took two steps, and stomped down on her knee, casting a blanket of magic over her so we wouldn’t hear her cry out. But her back arched up in agony. I kept my boot on her knee, pinning her in place. I didn’t even glance down at her as I did this, my eyes locked onto Ashley, praying, begging, hoping for her to survive long enough for Pan to arrive.

  He appeared in a blur, eyes scanning the somber faces until he locked onto Ashley. He gasped, and dove for her with fingers outstretched, because as long as he could touch her, she had a chance. His fingers touched her knee and they both simply disappeared.

  Poof. Gone.

  Gunnar snarled in anger and confusion, and then shot me a calculating look. He winced upon seeing my face, but I shrugged in response to his unspoken question. I had no idea. Indie squirmed underfoot again, but I didn’t have time for her yet, so I ground my boot, still masking her tortured screams. I felt her reaching for her power and began to laugh as I squashed that, too.

  I don’t know how.

  I just simply made her not.

  Then I laughed again. Why was I wasting energy standing on her? I left her pinned to the earth with wild, savage, whispering powers, and turned to look at Gunnar, holding out my hand towards Indie, offering him my prize. Like I would have done in the Land of the Fae. Take my kill, Brother, it said.

  Gunnar stared at me in utter silence for about a full minute.

  Then he tried to stand, and collapsed with a groan.

  I was suddenly standing beside him, reaching out a hand that was no longer flesh, but rough, uncut diamond claw. Not like a rapper’s necklace, or anything, but like the raw diamonds found in a mine – surrounded by coal, and yet to be polished – with the hope of a glimmer underneath all that grime.

  White and Black.

  Blending the line between both shades.

  Gunnar reached up a tentative paw and finally touched me. He gasped, his lone eye shooting wide as his chest began to crack, pop, and writhe where Hercules had kicked him.

  I crouched down, eager to maintain contact.

  He began to shake, squirm, and howl, still in full wolf form.

  His wolves did not like this – not one bit – unsure whether the scary, diamond-fleshed dude was hurting or helping.

  And they began to move, circling around me. I felt a sharp tug on my shoulder blades, and diamond spikes slammed into the earth around me in a protective cage. I glanced over to see that those spikes furthest from me were longer and taller – and that each spike was connected to one horizontal bar of the same, rough, diamond-like substance as my new claws.

  Which was sprouting from my shoulder blades. Like a skeletal pair of wings.

  Gunnar began to whimper like a kicked dog, thrashing in agony.

  I slowly swiveled my head to find Grimm smiling with his razor sharp-teeth… at Pegasus. As if to say, What’s up now, bitch?

  Gunnar suddenly lurched upright, gasping as he flung his arms at me in a loving, brotherly embrace that has been passed down from generation to generation since time immemorial.

  Around my throat.

  I let him.

  His forearms began to shake, and I saw his missing eye slowly reforming into a stone-like chip, as if he was wearing a cheaply bedazzled eyepatch. The same as my claws and wings. His face went slack as he stared up at me, mouth moving wordlessly. I don’t know what the hell he saw, but his fingers slowly began to loosen.

  I grasped his wrist with one of my claws, preventing him from withdrawing. With the other claw, I slowly began to remove my mask. “I accept your judgment, Wulfric,” I whispered. “I should have been here sooner.”

  He stopped me with a look, his stone eye flashing with the diamond underneath. “Is it still… you?” he asked in a rasping tone.

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  He let out a long breath, and then yanked his hand from my grip. He used the other to press the mask back onto my face. “Then my best friend is going to help me find my fiancée.”

&nbs
p; I was glad he couldn’t see my face, because he would have known that I had very dark thoughts on that matter. Not that I didn’t trust Pan. He got here as fast as possible, being prevented from involving himself in the war. But the fact that he had disappeared. Because I was almost confident that I had seen the beginning of Ashley’s last exhale before they vanished.

  The shock alone caused by traveling like he had would have been enough to severely complicate any minor injury, let alone while she was knocking on death’s door.

  But I nodded. Because I would help him. And if we found Ashley dead, we would resume this conversation. I tried to stand, but Gunnar yanked me down beside him, shoving a folded piece of bloody paper at me. There was a hole in the corner where Indie had stabbed Ashley.

  My diamond claw shook as I read it.

  Gunnar,

  If you’re reading this, I am gone. But you need to accept something. I chose this.

  Not Nate.

  You’re stubborn enough to blame him, no matter what the facts tell you. So, I hope my words will achieve better results. He would never do anything to hurt you. Not ever.

  Seeing him in the Land of the Fae was… a revelation.

  He risked his life, countless times, to keep us alive, to save a kid, to get us home. And he saved me from myself. That place changes you, and doesn’t let you give up. He helped me remember my human side, what I valued above all else…

  You, Gunnar. My stray, one-eyed mutt. Wolf King. Lover. Best friend.

  You may wonder why you’re reading this, assuming there’s some big conspiracy. That I knew I came here to die… But nothing could be further from the truth. The fact is, after a few of our more notorious skirmishes with monsters, I began writing these letters. Just… in case.

  Because no matter what happens, in Nate, you have a better friend than anyone could ever ask for. He’s not perfect. He’s even an asshole, at times. Arrogant, conceited, and hot-headed.

  But I think you know the truth about Nate, too, whether you have admitted it or not…

  He is all those things so we don’t have to be. He wears those faults on purpose. Giving us something to lash out at, a target for our rage when the bad guys seem too strong. When the monsters are too scary. When all hope seems lost.

  He lets himself become a punching bag for our fears. Taking our beatings as we point out his faults and call him out on his failures, giving us the chance to feel tough again, to regain our confidence, to rebuild our self-esteem. Because we know that the monsters fear him.

  And if we can stand up to Nate, we must be strong enough to stand up to the monsters, too.

  Because by standing up to Nate, we’ve already done what the monsters couldn’t.

  So, cherish him, like I do. He is your brother. Your family.

  He’s the man we need. But he also needs you. Without you he’s a broken bike, missing a wheel, and I think the world is going to need a bike soon…

  With all the love in the world,

  Ashley Randulf.

  Tears struck the paper, and again, my gaze focused on the hole near the corner. My entire body began to shake, and my diamond-spiked wings began to rattle, stabbing into the earth in a steady drumbeat. I slowly lifted my gaze to find my best friend staring back at me. He gave me a single, slow nod, and my heart threatened to break. He… didn’t hate me.

  “We’ll find her,” I promised. “I know a few guys who owe me favors. Even if I have to go down to the Underworld myself.”

  “Not without me, you won’t,” he warned, standing to his feet. I accepted his paw, the one with the family rune on his wrist, and climbed to my feet. I handed him the letter, and yanked the spikes of my wings from the ground as I slowly turned to Indie.

  “She ripped the letter. I think she needs to answer for that,” I rasped.

  “Agreed,” Gunnar growled, stepping up beside me.

  Not a soul tried to stop us as we stalked up to the wide-eyed Indie.

  My ex-fiancée.

  I glanced at Gunnar. “Trust me for a minute,” I whispered. He nodded after only the briefest of hesitations.

  Chapter 64

  I released my magic and flipped her over with a boot. She stared up at me and immediately gasped. “Who…”

  “You’ve performed unspeakable crimes, leading hundreds to their deaths, with never a care for anyone but your own revenge,” I said, loud enough for all to hear. “You never cared for your men. Never cared for those you commanded to die. You are not the woman I once knew. Or… you never were the woman I thought I knew…”

  Her face scrunched up in confusion. “Nate? Is that you? I had hoped…” she choked, coughing up blood.

  I reached down towards her chin and she flinched instinctively. I wiped away the blood with one claw, my diamond skin seeming to soak it up. “But you did this by falling for a lie. A great injustice was done to you, and you handled it abhorrently. For the woman whom Nate Temple once pledged to marry, the woman she should have been, I grant you this one hope for atonement.” I felt Gunnar stiffen beside me, and mutters began stretching back through the crowd.

  She began to nod vehemently. “Please. I’ll make up for it. Somehow. I will—”

  “Tell them. Beg them. They are the ones you guided to war. They are the ones you must apologize to. They are the ones you should hope to earn forgiveness from.”

  And she began to do so, begging, pleading, offering herself in any way available. I watched her eyes as she spoke, and knew her words were genuine, heartfelt. She had literally been duped, and the rage of thinking her mother had been killed had started a war. She hadn’t remembered what she had been told, that her mother would live to a ripe-old age and die of natural causes. To be honest, I had almost forgotten it, too. It felt like years ago, and with all the chaos, it had been easy to accept the terrifying story of her mother’s murder when she had first told it to me…

  I glanced around thoughtfully. Right here, in fact. This was where she had first told me about her mother being killed by the Syndicate. Before she had woken up a goddess.

  I turned back to her, again, focusing only on her eyes. I didn’t listen to her words, I listened to her eyes, and waited until I saw it.

  That glimmer of… Hope.

  And Oberon’s words whispered in my ears. Only savage hope can quench a heartflame…

  And then I extinguished Indie from the world of the living. No bells, whistles, or fancy magic. I simply stabbed her through the heart with one of my diamond coated wing-spines. I gripped her chin as she struggled to breathe, but spoke loud enough for all to hear.

  “I will take all Hope from this world. All hope for the wicked. All hope at forgiveness. Crimes will be judged. Apologies – even if heartfelt and true – shall not outweigh the crimes. Examples will be made. Only terror will remain… for the guilty.”

  And the light winked out from her eyes.

  I stood, brushed my claws together with the sound of rock grating on rock, and stared out at the stunned crowd.

  I took off the Mask and it shifted back into the familiar wooden disc I had grown partial to. “That felt so good. I can’t even…” I admitted softly, shaking my head. “But that’s not why I did it. I meant every word.” Then I met several eyes in the crowd. “You’ve been put on notice. Tend to your wounded.” I turned to Gunnar. “You up for commanding them?” I asked in a soft tone.

  He nodded, his stone eye glinting, and turned away, belting out orders for our men.

  And I turned away, walking towards the tree. I saw an umbrella sword leaning there where Indie had left it. I hadn’t even seen she had it. I fought the momentary sensation that struggled to hit me, and snatched up the blade. It hadn’t been hers. I walked over to Alucard, who was shaking his head slowly. Not in recrimination, but in sheer shock. Overwhelmed.

  I handed him the cane he had let Indie borrow so long ago, and retrieved my goblet. I downed it, and said, “Thanks.”

  Then I sat down, taking everything in.

&nbs
p; “Mind if I take charge of the Greeks?” a familiar voice asked.

  I turned my head to find Achilles staring at me from a few paces away. He still wore his crested helmet and armor. Asterion stood beside him. The Minotaur dipped his head, looking concerned.

  “Where were you?”

  “Playing that stone-game he’s partial to,” Achilles answered, pointing a thumb at Asterion.

  I just stared at them, not understanding. But I nodded in response, because someone had to take care of the Greeks. To get them out of here before hotheads decided to pick up where they had left off.

  Achilles dipped his head, and then he was off, shouting at the Greeks, establishing the chain of command, and ordering his men to drop weapons – yes, even their favorite ones – and depart the property with hands on their heads. “Meet at the usual spot,” he growled. I heard the sounds of blades, spears, shields, and even helmets striking the ground, and then an organized, submissive retreat.

  When Achilles stepped back up, Asterion finally settled down into a cross-legged position across from me. He wore the fighting gear I had seen him don a year ago. When he had stood on my side against Indie. Achilles no longer had a weapon, but his helmet was within reach. He sat down beside Asterion, and the two shared a long look.

  “Your beard is… formidable,” Asterion said uncomfortably.

  I just stared at him. How many had he killed? How many of those who had once trusted him, befriended him, had died by his blades.

  Achilles grunted. “Well, I don’t feel like playing tea-party princess. I want to thank you for not joining the field sooner.”

  My lip curled back in a sneer. “So that you could kill more of my people without recrimination?”

  He dipped his head, accepting my anger. “My blade never left my scabbard. My spears did,” he admitted. “But I didn’t kill anyone, and I only fought as a last resort. When I found out Indie was going after the kid, I made sure to lead that attack to keep him safe. Obviously, that put me in the thick of things, but you can ask around. None died by Myrmidon blade.”