Let alone how I was supposed to care for a baby Beast.
He nodded in relief, my promise allowing him to finally let go of his tentative hold on life. “It’s why they don’t want us freed,” Kai whispered, closing his eyes. “They don’t want us to fall in love. To make new Beasts, born outside of the cycle of servitude…”
With a faint expulsion of breath, he died, and a gold and green swirl of mist slowly rose up from the ground. It split into two separate clouds – a golden cloud raced back towards the burning tree and my War Hammer, and a second green cloud floated high into the sky. I stared up at Kai’s green cloud for a long time, hoping that he explored the galaxy before he went to… wherever he was going. Hell, maybe that was where he was from. I remembered someone recently saying something to me, but couldn’t for the life of me remember who had said it. There are gods, and there are Gods…
Matthias placed a hand on my shoulder, and I climbed to my feet, wiping my cheeks as I faced him. I saw Falco drift back into the house, the door closing with a faint click. I felt a deep sadness from my home, and decided to let her grieve in peace.
“So…” I said, kicking a rock with my foot, glancing at the cracks covering my property.
“That was…” he trailed off. I looked up to see him shaking his head. “I think I’m pretty much done with all of this,” he finally whispered. “I almost wish you hadn’t brought me back, or that one of you had killed me…”
I nodded, kind of understanding him. He had lost everything. And then saw two Beasts kill each other. Beasts just like the one inhabiting his own body, giving him his power. He probably had a whole lot of introspection to do, wondering if he was possibly at fault for imprisoning his Beast. Then again, unleashing your Beast could be deadly.
A lot to consider.
“Yeah…” I replied lamely.
“I’ll be back someday, but for now I’m going to go somewhere no one can find me.”
I nodded, wanting desperately to question him on the Knight thing, but knowing that this was the worst possible time to do so. Hell, we hadn’t even really made amends.
“I’m sorry, Nate,” he said, sounding like the saddest person in the world. And then he Shadow Walked away, not even giving me the time to respond.
Not wanting to go inside my home, I walked over to my chair and sat down wearily. The tree burned before me, having caught up several of the bushes as well, but they weren’t close to anything important and looked to be finally dying down, so I ignored them, staring up at the heavens.
Searching for Kai, and thinking wizardly things.
At some point, Talon approached on silent paws. He set a lawn chair beside me, something he must have found in the garage. He dropped something heavy beside my chair and I glanced over. The Hammer rested at my feet, a cloth wrapped around the handle where Talon had held it. I grunted uneasily and turned back to the sky. We sat in silence for a time before he spoke, even though he didn’t need to say anything.
“I… didn’t think I could be of any help, Nate. Not when it escalated so quickly. I’m sorry…”
I coughed in disbelief. “I don’t blame you, man. Jesus…” I said, shaking my head. But I did place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing once before pulling away.
We watched the stars in silence for a while.
“What’s next?” he asked.
I hesitated. “Well, I think I’d like to relax for a while. Enjoy this thing called life.”
Talon nodded absently, letting the silence grow. “And when we get bored of that?” he asked.
“I made Death promise to take us to Hell. To talk to my parents. Should be dangerous.”
Talon was quiet for a little while, and then he began to laugh loudly, the sound echoing around us. “Oh, yes…”
I nodded, closing my eyes. “Thought so.”
I wondered many, many things as I watched Kai’s tree burn like a funeral pyre, wondering how I was going to break the news to Alex. But… a baby Beast was on the way, whatever that entailed. Because Kai had apparently banged Falco behind my back, the sleazy scoundrel. I shook my head, a faint grin on my cheeks at the possibilities.
I was very concerned who those candy skulls had been at the Arch. Castor’s goons? They sure hadn’t helped him during our scrap, so I was guessing not.
And who had the hooded guy with Odin really been, and why had the Allfather asked if he was satisfied?
Who had sent the three of us the cards, telling us where to go tonight?
What was I going to do with the Knight that Van and Baba had found?
I didn’t even want to think about my various powers or my childhood in Fae.
I let out a long breath, dismissing it for tomorrow or a year from now. “This is going to be nice. No immediate threats. Take a break. Relax.”
I smiled at Talon’s disgusted groan. “I’d rather go down to Hell,” he said hopefully.
“Maybe I’ll even go visit Kansas City for a while…” I said, smiling to myself. I continued to watch the fire burning, truly realizing the magnitude of the friend I had lost. Since the tree had burned so fast and hot, it was running out of fuel and beginning to die down very suddenly.
Then I squinted, leaning forward with a frown. I nudged Talon, grunting and pointing.
“Is that… the treehouse Kai made for Alex?” I asked in an incredulous whisper. “Why is it entirely unharmed?” Because it was as pristine as ever, as if freshly built, sitting in the center of the dying coals, not a mark of soot or flame touching it.
Talon sighed. “This place is almost as trippy as Fae…” he muttered.
I simply nodded, staring at the baby house…
Nate Temple will return in 2018… Turn the page to read the first chapter of UNCHAINED, and find out more about the mysterious Kansas City wizard, Callie Penrose…
UNCHAINED (FEATHERS AND FIRE #1)
The rain pelted my hair, plastering loose strands of it to my forehead as I panted, eyes darting from tree to tree, terrified of each shifting branch, splash of water, and whistle of wind slipping through the nightscape around us. But… I was somewhat excited, too.
Somewhat.
“Easy, girl. All will be well,” the big man creeping just ahead of me, murmured.
“You said we were going to get ice cream!” I hissed at him, failing to compose myself, but careful to keep my voice low and my eyes alert. “I’m not ready for this!” I had been trained to fight, with my hands, with weapons, and with my magic. But I had never taken an active role in a hunt before. I’d always been the getaway driver for my mentor.
The man grunted, grey eyes scanning the trees as he slipped through the tall grass. “And did we not get ice cream before coming here? Because I think I see some in your hair.”
“You know what I mean, Roland. You tricked me.” I checked the tips of my loose hair, saw nothing, and scowled at his back.
“The Lord does not give us a greater burden than we can shoulder.”
I muttered dark things under my breath, wiping the water from my eyes. Again. My new shirt was going to be ruined. Silk never fared well in the rain. My choice of shoes wasn’t much better. Boots, yes, but distressed, fashionable boots. Not work boots designed for the rain and mud. Definitely not monster hunting boots for our evening excursion through one of Kansas City’s wooded parks. I realized I was forcibly distracting myself, keeping my mind busy with mundane thoughts to avoid my very real anxiety. Because whenever I grew nervous, an imagined nightmare always—
A church looming before me. Rain pouring down. Night sky and a glowing moon overhead. I was all alone. Crying on the cold, stone steps, and infant in a cardboard box—
I forced the nightmare away, breathing heavily. “You know I hate it when you talk like that,” I whispered to him, trying to regain my composure. I wasn’t angry with him, but was growing increasingly uncomfortable with our situation after my brief flashback of fear.
“Doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be said,” he said kindly. “
I think we’re close. Be alert. Remember your training. Banish your fears. I am here. And the Lord is here. He always is.”
So, he had noticed my sudden anxiety. “Maybe I should just go back to the car. I know I’ve trained, but I really don’t think—”
A shape of fur, fangs, and claws launched from the shadows towards me, cutting off my words as it snarled, thirsty for my blood.
And my nightmare slipped back into my thoughts like a veiled assassin, a wraith hoping to hold me still for the monster to eat. I froze, unable to move. Twin sticks of power abruptly erupted into being in my clenched fists, but my fear swamped me with that stupid nightmare, the sticks held at my side, useless to save me.
Right before the beast’s claws reached me, it grunted as something batted it from the air, sending it flying sideways. It struck a tree with another grunt and an angry whine of pain.
I fell to my knees right into a puddle, arms shaking, breathing fast.
My sticks crackled in the rain like live cattle prods, except their entire length was the electrical section — at least to anyone other than me. I could hold them without pain.
Magic was a part of me, coursing through my veins whether I wanted it or not, and Roland had spent many years teaching me how to master it. But I had never been able to fully master the nightmare inside me, and in moments of fear, it always won, overriding my training.
The fact that I had resorted to weapons — like the ones he had trained me with — rather than a burst of flame, was startling. It was good in the fact that my body’s reflexes knew enough to call up a defense even without my direct command, but bad in the fact that it was the worst form of defense for the situation presented. I could have very easily done as Roland did, and hurt it from a distance. But I hadn’t. Because of my stupid block.
Roland placed a calloused palm on my shoulder, and I flinched. “Easy, see? I am here.” But he did frown at my choice of weapons, the reprimand silent but loud in my mind. I let out a shaky breath, forcing my fear back down. It was all in my head, but still, it wasn’t easy. Fear could be like that.
I focused on Roland’s implied lesson. Close combat weapons — even magically-powered ones — were for last resorts. I averted my eyes in very real shame. I knew these things. He didn’t even need to tell me them. But when that damned nightmare caught hold of me, all my training went out the window. It haunted me like a shadow, waiting for moments just like this, as if trying to kill me. A form of psychological suicide? But it was why I constantly refused to join Roland on his hunts. He knew about it. And although he was trying to help me overcome that fear, he never pressed too hard.
Rain continued to sizzle as it struck my batons. I didn’t let them go, using them as a totem to build my confidence back up. I slowly lifted my eyes to nod at him as I climbed back to my feet.
That’s when I saw the second set of eyes in the shadows, right before they flew out of the darkness towards Roland’s back. I threw one of my batons and missed, but that pretty much let Roland know that an unfriendly was behind him. Either that or I had just failed to murder my mentor at point-blank range. He whirled to confront the monster, expecting another aerial assault as he unleashed a ball of fire that splashed over the tree at chest height, washing the trunk in blue flames. But this monster was tricky. It hadn’t planned on tackling Roland, but had merely jumped out of the darkness to get closer, no doubt learning from its fallen comrade, who still lay unmoving against the tree behind me.
His coat shone like midnight clouds with hints of lightning flashing in the depths of thick, wiry fur. The coat of dew dotting his fur reflected the moonlight, giving him a faint sheen as if covered in fresh oil. He was tall, easily hip height at the shoulder, and barrel chested, his rump much leaner than the rest of his body. He — I assumed male from the long, thick mane around his neck — had a very long snout, much longer and wider than any werewolf I had ever seen. Amazingly, and beyond my control, I realized he was beautiful.
But most of the natural world’s lethal hunters were beautiful.
He landed in a wet puddle a pace in front of Roland, juked to the right, and then to the left, racing past the big man, biting into his hamstrings on his way by.
A wash of anger rolled over me at seeing my mentor injured, dousing my fear, and I swung my baton down as hard as I could. It struck the beast in the rump as it tried to dart back to cover — a typical wolf tactic. My blow singed his hair and shattered bone. The creature collapsed into a puddle of mud with a yelp, instinctively snapping his jaws over his shoulder to bite whatever had hit him.
I let him. But mostly out of dumb luck as I heard Roland hiss in pain, falling to the ground.
The monster’s jaws clamped around my baton, and there was an immediate explosion of teeth and blood that sent him flying several feet away into the tall brush, yipping, screaming, and staggering. Before he slipped out of sight, I noticed that his lower jaw was simply gone, from the contact of his saliva on my electrified magical batons. Then he managed to limp into the woods with more pitiful yowls, but I had no mind to chase him. Roland — that titan of a man, my mentor — was hurt. I could smell copper in the air, and knew we had to get out of here. Fast. Because we had anticipated only one of the monsters. But there had been two of them, and they hadn’t been the run-of-the-mill werewolves we had been warned about. If there were two, perhaps there were more. And they were evidently the prehistoric cousin of any werewolf I had ever seen or read about.
Roland hissed again as he stared down at his leg, growling with both pain and anger. My eyes darted back to the first monster, wary of another attack. It almost looked like a werewolf, but bigger. Much bigger. He didn’t move, but I saw he was breathing. He had a notch in his right ear and a jagged scar on his long snout. Part of me wanted to go over to him and torture him. Slowly. Use his pain to finally drown my nightmare, my fear. The fear that had caused Roland’s injury. My lack of inner-strength had not only put me in danger, but had hurt my mentor, my friend.
I shivered, forcing the thought away. That was cold. Not me. Sure, I was no stranger to fighting, but that had always been in a ring. Practicing. Sparring. Never life or death.
But I suddenly realized something very dark about myself in the chill, rainy night. Although I was terrified, I felt a deep ocean of anger manifest inside me, wanting only to dispense justice as I saw fit. To use that rage to battle my own demons. As if feeding one would starve the other, reminding me of the Cherokee Indian Legend Roland had once told me.
An old Cherokee man was teaching his grandson about life. “A fight is going on inside me,” he told the boy. “It is a terrible fight between two wolves. One is evil — he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.” After a few moments to make sure he had the boy’s undivided attention, he continued.
“The other wolf is good — he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside of you, boy, and inside of every other person, too.”
The grandson thought about this for a few minutes before replying. “Which wolf will win?”
The old Cherokee man simply said, “The one you feed, boy. The one you feed…”
And I felt like feeding one of my wolves today, by killing this one…
Get your copy today! Book 3 will be released January 2018…
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, I would like to thank my beta-readers, TEAM TEMPLE, those individuals who spent hours of their time to read, and re-re-read Nate’s story. Your dark, twisted, cunning sense of humor makes me feel right at home… I also couldn’t have done this on time without Carol T’s incredible editing services.
I would also like to thank you, the reader. I hope you enjoyed reading WAR HAMMER as much as I enjoyed writing it. Nate Temple returns in 2018, and Callie’s book 3 in my new bestselling Feathers and Fire urban fantasy series releases in JANUARY 2018…
And last, but definitely not least, I thank my wife, Lexy. Without your support, none of this would have been possible.
ABOUT SHAYNE SILVERS
Shayne is a man of mystery and power, whose power is exceeded only by his mystery…
He currently writes the Amazon Bestselling Nate Temple Series, which features a foul-mouthed wizard from St. Louis. He rides a bloodthirsty unicorn, drinks with Achilles, and is pals with the Four Horsemen.
He also writes the Amazon Bestselling Feathers and Fire Series about a rookie spell-slinger named Callie Penrose who works for the Vatican in Kansas City. Her problem? Hell seems to know more about her past than she does.
Shayne holds two high-ranking black belts, and can be found writing in a coffee shop, cackling madly into his computer screen while pounding shots of espresso. He’s hard at work on book 9 of the Nate Temple Series - coming 2018, as well as Callie’s book 3 in the Feathers and Fire series for January 2018. Connect with him online for all sorts of groovy goodies:
War Hammer: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 8 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 29