Angel's Roar: Feathers and Fire Book 4

by Shayne Silvers

  I blinked at him. “That’s… ridiculous. We all have glue, but it’s not the right glue? You mean people can’t fix themselves? I refuse to believe that,” I said, folding my arms.

  Nate held up a hand. “We can put the pieces in the right places on our own, but without the right glue, it might break again someday. Maybe even worse than before. But with the right glue, it will never break again.” He shot me a serious look. “Never ever break. It’s the balance. Those who choose to only use their own glue don’t ever understand that they could be so much more if they found the right partner… the right glue.” He sighed. “Like someone claiming they are the best roof maker in the world because the thatch roof they made hasn’t leaked. Yet.” He shrugged easily, tucking his hands behind his head and leaning back, closing his eyes. “To everyone with a tile roof, his boasts sound ridiculous.” Silence stretched between us before he said, “It’s just a theory. But I’m usually right.”

  I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hold back my grin. I studied him for a few moments, remembering my dream as I watched accumulated rain drip off his stubbled chin to splash against his throat before rolling down under his collar. I remembered Phix’s conversation about Hope and Despair, and my strange dream with Nate in that other place…

  I had ordered a book online yesterday but wasn’t sure if I would ever give it to him.

  A Tale of Two Cities. Like Nate’s comment from the strange dream.

  But if my dream had just been a normal dream, I would look like an idiot when I tried to explain why I had bought it for him. But if he had really shared my dream…

  Well, I didn’t know what to do about that, either.

  Because I was still putting my pieces together, trying to figure out what my picture was going to look like. Apparently, I lacked the right glue.

  I quickly turned away to study the night. “An idiotic… romantic theory,” I admitted, smiling.

  “Speaking of idiotic,” he said, opening his eyes. “Why am I holding your stuffed unicorn again?” he asked, patting the drenched unicorn in his lap.

  When I didn’t immediately answer, he turned to look at me and my breath caught at the sudden intensity in his eyes. It was just how he looked at people sometimes, but it felt like an accusation after fantasizing about the water on his skin. I pointed at the small huddle of thugs loitering against a brick wall across the street. “Hold it up so they can’t miss it, and then stand up,” I told him, smiling in anticipation.

  He frowned at me curiously, but finally complied. He waved the stuffed animal at them, then stood up from the bench. I joined him, straightening my jacket as I watched the thugs.

  As if it had been a gunshot, they took off at a dead run, screaming and shouting in a panicked stampede.

  Nate turned to me, bewildered. Then I was running after the thugs. “Now, you hopeless romantic, let’s go hunt down some Freaks!” I shouted back at him.

  And we ran off into the night, chasing down shrieking monsters, laughing, and thinking about the right glue. And maybe even some dreams.

  I made my decision to mail the damned book. Let the pieces fall where they may.

  Callie returns in early Summer 2018… Subscribe to my NEWSLETTER to receive an email when it’s live!

  Turn the page to read a sample of OBSIDIAN SON - Nate Temple Book 1 - or BUY ONLINE. Nate Temple is a billionaire wizard from St. Louis. He rides a bloodthirsty unicorn and drinks with the Four Horsemen. He even cow-tipped the Minotaur. Once…

  (Note: Nate’s books 1-6 happen prior to UNCHAINED, but crossover from then on, the two series taking place in the same universe but also able to standalone if you prefer)

  Full chronology of all books in the Temple Universe shown on the ‘Books by Shayne Silvers’ page.

  TRY: OBSIDIAN SON (NATE TEMPLE #1)

  There was no room for emotion in a hate crime. I had to be cold. Heartless. This was just another victim. Nothing more. No face, no name.

  Frosted blades of grass crunched under my feet, sounding to my ears alone like the symbolic glass that one shattered under a napkin at a Jewish wedding. The noise would have threatened to give away my stealthy advance as I stalked through the moonlit field, but I was no novice and had planned accordingly. Being a wizard, I was able to muffle all sensory evidence with a fine cloud of magic — no sounds, and no smells. Nifty. But if I made the spell much stronger, the anomaly would be too obvious to my prey.

  I knew the consequences for my dark deed tonight. If caught, jail time or possibly even a gruesome, painful death. But if I succeeded, the look of fear and surprise in my victim’s eyes before his world collapsed around him, was well worth the risk. I simply couldn’t help myself; I had to take him down.

  I knew the cops had been keeping tabs on my car, but I was confident that they hadn’t followed me. I hadn’t seen a tail on my way here, but seeing as how they frowned on this kind of thing I had taken a circuitous route just in case. I was safe. I hoped.

  Then my phone chirped at me as I received a text. My body’s fight-or-flight syndrome instantly kicked in, my heart threatening to explode in one final act of pulmonary paroxysm. “Motherf—” I hissed instinctively, practically jumping out of my skin. I had forgotten to silence it. Stupid, stupid, stupid! My body remained tense as I swept my gaze over the field, sure that I had been made. My breathing finally began to slow, my pulse returning to normal as I saw no change in my surroundings. Hopefully my magic had silenced the sound, and my resulting outburst. I finally glanced down at the phone and read the text. I typed back a quick and angry response before I switched the phone to vibrate.

  I continued on, the lining of my coat constricting my breathing. Or maybe it was because I was leaning forward in anticipation. Breathe, I chided myself. He doesn’t know you’re here. All this risk for a book. It had better be worth it.

  I’m taller than most, and not abnormally handsome, but I knew how to play the genetic cards I had been dealt. I had fashionably shaggy, dirty blonde hair, and my frame was thick with well-earned muscle, yet still lean. I had once been told that my eyes were like twin emeralds pitted against the golden tufts of my hair — a face like a jewelry box. Of course, that was after I had filled the woman with copious amounts of wine. Still, I liked to imagine that was how everyone saw me.

  But tonight, all that was masked by magic.

  I grinned broadly as the outline of the hairy hulk finally came into view. He was blessedly alone — no nearby sentries to give me away. That was always a risk when performing this ancient right-of-passage. I tried to keep the grin on my face from dissolving into a maniacal cackle.

  My skin danced with energy, both natural and unnatural, as I manipulated the threads of magic floating all around me. My victim stood just ahead, oblivious of the world of hurt that I was about to unleash. Even with his millennia of experience, he didn’t stand a chance. I had done this so many times that the routine of it was my only enemy. I lost count of how many times I had been told not to do it again; those who knew declared it cruel, evil, and sadistic. But what fun wasn’t? Regardless, that wasn’t enough to stop me from doing it again. And again. Call it an addiction if you will, but it was too much of a rush to ignore.

  The pungent smell of manure filled the air, latching onto my nostril hairs. I took another step, trying to calm my racing pulse. A glint of gold reflected in the silver moonlight, but the victim remained motionless, hopefully unaware or all was lost. I wouldn’t make it out alive if he knew I was here. Timing was everything.

  I carefully took the last two steps, a lifetime between each, watching the legendary monster’s ears, anxious and terrified that I would catch even so much as a twitch in my direction. Seeing nothing, a fierce grin split my unshaven cheeks. My spell had worked! I raised my palms an inch away from their target, firmly planted my feet, and squared my shoulders. I took one silent, calming breath, and then heaved forward with every ounce of physical strength I could muster. As well as a teensy-weensy boost of magic. Enough to goose him
good.

  “MOOO!!!” The sound tore through the cool October night like an unstoppable freight train. Thud-splat! The beast collapsed sideways into the frosty grass; straight into a steaming patty of cow shit, cow dung, or, if you really want to church it up, a Meadow Muffin. But to me, shit is, and always will be, shit.

  Cow tipping. It doesn’t get any better than that in Missouri.

  Especially when you’re tipping the Minotaur. Capital M.

  Razor-blade hooves tore at the frozen earth as the beast struggled to stand, grunts of rage vibrating the air. I raised my arms triumphantly. “Boo-yah! Temple 1, Minotaur 0!” I crowed. Then I very bravely prepared to protect myself. Some people just can’t take a joke. Cruel, evil, and sadistic cow tipping may be, but by hell, it was a rush. The legendary beast turned his gaze on me after gaining his feet, eyes ablaze as he unfolded to his full height on two tree-trunk-thick legs, hooves magically transforming into heavily-booted feet. The heavy gold ring quivered in his snout as the Minotaur panted, corded muscle contracting over his human-like chest. As I stared up into those eyes, I actually felt sorry… for, well, myself.

  “I have killed greater men than you for less offense,” I swear to God his voice sounded like an angry James Earl Jones.

  “You have shit on your shoulder, Asterion.” I ignited a roiling ball of fire in my palm in order to see his eyes more clearly. By no means was it a defensive gesture on my part. It was just dark. But under the weight of his glare, even I couldn’t buy my reassuring lie. I hoped using a form of his ancient name would give me brownie points. Or maybe just not-worthy-of-killing points.

  The beast grunted, eyes tightening, and I sensed the barest hesitation. “Nate Temple… your name would look splendid on my already long list of slain idiots.” Asterion took a threatening step forward, and I thrust out my palm in warning, my roiling flame blue now.

  “You lost fair and square, Asterion. Yield or perish.” The beast’s shoulders sagged slightly. Then he finally nodded to himself, appraising me with the scrutiny of a worthy adversary. “Your time comes, Temple, but I will grant you this. You’ve got a pair of stones on you to rival Hercules.”

  I pointedly risked a glance down at the myth’s own crown jewels. “Well, I sure won’t need a wheelbarrow any time soon, but I’m sure I’ll manage.” The Minotaur blinked once, and then bellowed out a deep, contagious, snorting laughter. Realizing I wasn’t about to become a murder statistic, I couldn’t help but join in. It felt good. It had been a while since I had experienced genuine laughter. In the harsh moonlight, his bulk was even more intimidating as he towered head and shoulders above me. This was the beast that had fed upon human sacrifices for countless years while imprisoned in Daedalus’ Labyrinth in Greece. And all of that protein had not gone to waste, forming a heavily woven musculature over the beast’s body that made even Mr. Olympia look puny.

  From the neck up he was entirely bull, but the rest of his body more resembled a thickly-furred man. But, as shown moments ago, he could adapt his form to his environment, never appearing fully human, but able to make his entire form appear as a bull when necessary. For instance, how he had looked just before I tipped him. Maybe he had been scouting the field for heifers before I had so efficiently killed the mood.

  His bull face was also covered in thick, coarse hair — even sporting a long, wavy beard of sorts — and his eyes were the deepest brown I had ever seen. Cow shit brown. His snout jutted out, emphasizing the gold ring dangling from his glistening nostrils, catching a glint in the luminous glow of the moon. The metal was at least an inch thick, and etched with runes of a language long forgotten. Thick, aged ivory horns sprouted from each temple, long enough to skewer a wizard with little effort. He was nude except for a beaded necklace and a pair of distressed leather boots that were big enough to stomp a size twenty-five in my face if he felt so inclined.

  I hoped our blossoming friendship wouldn’t end that way. I really did.

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  Thank you very much in advance.

  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 ANGEL’S ROAR as much as I enjoyed writing it. Callie Penrose returns in Summer 2018 with book 5, and Nate Temple’s book 10 in my bestselling Nate Temple urban fantasy series releases late Summer 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 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.

  He also 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.

  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 10 of the Nate Temple Series - coming summer 2018 - as well as Callie’s book 5 in the Feathers and Fire series for early Summer 2018. Follow him online for all sorts of groovy goodies, giveaways, and new release updates:

  Get Down with Shayne Online

  www.shaynesilvers.com

  info@shaynesilvers.com

  BOOKS BY SHAYNE SILVERS

  CHRONOLOGY: Both series in the Temple Universe are shown in chronological order on the next pages)

  FEATHERS AND FIRE SERIES

  (Set in the Temple Universe)

  UNCHAINED

  RAGE

  WHISPERS

  ANGEL’S ROAR

  BOOK #5 - COMING EARLY SUMMER 2018…

  NATE TEMPLE SERIES

  (Temple Universe)

  FAIRY TALE - FREE prequel novella #0 for my subscribers

  OBSIDIAN SON

  BLOOD DEBTS

  GRIMM

  SILVER TONGUE

  BEAST MASTER

  TINY GODS

  DADDY DUTY (Novella #6.5)

  WILD SIDE

  WAR HAMMER

  NINE SOULS

  BOOK #10 - COMING SUMMER 2018…

  CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER: TEMPLE UNIVERSE

  FAIRY TALE (TEMPLE PREQUEL)

  OBSIDIAN SON (TEMPLE 1)

  BLOOD DEBTS (TEMPLE 2)

  GRIMM (TEMPLE 3)

  SILVER TONGUE (TEMPLE 4)

  BEAST MASTER (TEMPLE 5)

  TINY GODS (TEMPLE 6)

  DADDY DUTY (TEMPLE NOVELLA 6.5)

  UNCHAINED (FEATHERS… 1)

  RAGE (FEATHERS… 2)

  WILD SIDE (TEMPLE 7)

  WAR HAMMER (TEMPLE 8)

  WHISPERS (FEATHERS… 3)

  NINE SOULS (TEMPLE 9)

  ANGEL’S ROAR (FEATHERS… 4)

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  Shayne Silvers, Angel's Roar: Feathers and Fire Book 4