Wild Side
A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 7
Shayne Silvers
Argento Publishing, LLC
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Shayne Silvers
Wild Side
A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 7
© 2017, Shayne Silvers / Argento Publishing, LLC
[email protected]
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
UNCHAINED (FEATHERS & FIRE #1)
MAKE A DIFFERENCE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT SHAYNE
BOOKS BY SHAYNE SILVERS
Chapter 1
I smirked at the man across the table, my face shadowed by a blue baseball cap that definitely didn’t match my hot pink, furry cape. “He is a worthless bag of horse shit,” I repeated. “Oh,” I added as an afterthought, “and tell him I said fuck Thebes.” The man’s jaw tightened with barely restrained fury at my defamation of his boss’s hometown.
I ignored Alucard’s subtle shift in stance across the bar. His long, dark hair brushed his shoulders as his head swiveled about the room, watching for an ambush, but the dark sunglasses he always wore hid his eyes as he sipped his scotch. He was a Day-walking Master Vampire, actually gaining power from sunlight, and he was my backup in case the plan went sideways.
“Do you have a death wish, wizard?” the man snarled, shooting another frown at the game-table he had watched me set up a moment ago, before I sat down at his table.
I shrugged lazily. “I’m not too concerned about your boss, minion.”
The man stood from the table, kicking his chair back to the ground, and the rest of the bar quieted even further. He stared down at me, shoulders heaving. “You’re dead.”
I chuckled, taking a slow sip of the ice water that I had ordered. “Not yet. But you should watch your tone. Run along, boy.”
He stormed towards the back of the bar through a door, disappearing from view. Conversation slowly resumed, but it was significantly muted as everyone waited for the obvious reaction. I waited, appearing casual while shooting a meaningful look at Alucard to wait. He looked about ready to start a fight right then, just so he wouldn’t be jumped in a few minutes.
Which was my plan. Picking a fight. Well, step one of my plan.
Because I was sick and tired of waiting. It had been the better part of a year, and the impending war with the unknown Greek God Indie had woken up had yet to materialize. I couldn’t find Indie, Ichabod, or any of my Greek friends. This was the first time I had found solid intelligence of a Greek in town, and it was recent, so he must have just arrived.
The only reason I had even caught notice of him was because of the whispered rumors about a strange cloak that the man wore. One that should have still been locked away.
I had been housing my friends at Chateau Falco for a long time, waiting every day for the other shoe to drop, keeping everyone safe behind the magical defenses of my mansion’s walls. Because a war was coming – an army of Greek monsters, warriors, demigods, and a genuine God to lead them, even though I didn’t yet know which god. They were – thanks to Indie, my ex-fiancée – almost guaranteed to be pointed at me because, well, exes can be like that. And I was pretty sure they had already raided my Armory of its supernatural weapons of mass destruction – because Pandora, my librarian, was Greek, too – and I hadn’t been able to enter my Armory since the horns of war started blowing after Indie woke up the unknown god.
The horns of war that hadn’t resulted in any fucking war.
I had run to Kansas City a few times while waiting on the war to start, helping Alucard out with a small family problem, which had earned me a spot on a YouTube video at a stupid concert we had been forced to attend. It went viral, of course, much to my frustration. I had also met a pretty badass wizard named Callie while there, but that had been a different trip to the City of Fountains.
I needed to give her a call. And I had a proposition for her da—
The back door blew inwards – frame, door, and chunks of drywall flying into the room and peppering the nearby patrons with debris. I smiled at the mountain of a man who ducked through the opening, because even though he had torn a hole through the wall where the door had just been, he was still too big to fit through it, so he very literally had to slouch through the opening.
He was easily seven feet tall, had long blonde hair that hung loose, brushing his shoulders, and had three jagged scars down one stubbled cheek. His eyes were flecks of steel-gray, and they locked onto little old me. His neck was as thick as my waist, and his shoulders were easily five-feet across. I think you get the picture. He was proportionally huge, larger than even those Mr. Olympia contestants, reminding me more of the Incredible Hulk, but Greeker.
Hercules. Demigod. Son of Zeus.
He wore tennis-racket-sized leather sandals that went up to the middle of his shins. Even his toe-nails looked larger than mine. Three times bigger. I suppressed a covetous growl as I saw him sp
orting my fucking cloak around his broad shoulders. Well, technically, it was his, but it should have been locked away in my Armory. Safe. To prevent things like this.
The cloak was actually the fur taken from the Nemean lion he had killed. Sitting in the same room as the cloak removed any doubts in my mind. It wasn’t a fake, but the genuine article, because I could sense the power coursing off it from here. So, Pandora had been loyal to her Greek origins and was handing out party favors from my Armory to my enemies. I tried not to imagine what else had been taken, because the stockpile held a lot of Greek artifacts. Which was why I was forcing my hand now.
His huge club thumped onto the wooden floor, silencing those who hadn’t already shushed, perfect for my next words.
“Hey, bitch,” I said. “Like my hat?”
I tipped it at him, and wondered if I would see sparks from his grinding teeth.
“Make Greece Great Again…” he growled, reading my hat. “For that alone, you shall die.”
“Better idea. I challenge you to a game of beer-pong.”
His eyes latched onto me like spears, and the ground literally shook as he stomped my way. “I’m going to squish you like a little bug,” he said in a deep baritone. “Stay still for a minute.”
“You aren’t going to do shit but get your ass whooped by a tiny wizard,” I said calmly, adjusting the cloak I wore around my shoulders. A faux lion-furred cape, but like one of those comical Anime versions with big animated eyes and a hot pink mane.
I pointed at the table I had set up, standing, and furling my cape in case anyone hadn’t noticed the mockery of his Nemean Lion Cloak.
Old Hercules definitely noticed my cape and, judging by the unique shade of purple his face turned, he wasn’t very happy about it. Especially not in addition to my hat.
My bodyguard, Mallory – who had recently admitted to actually being the Wild God, Pan, in disguise – had heard my plan for tonight, turned about as white as a sheet, and then given me some pretty potent alcohol from his private stash. The Wild God was good for that sort of thing. Knowing there wasn’t enough light beer in the world to get Hercules hammered, Mallory had given me his prized homemade hooch, and had also cast a spell on me to protect the lining of my stomach from absorbing his alcohol for about an hour. So, I had to beat the demigod fast, hence my blatant disrespect of one who could quite literally, well, squash me like a bug.
To belabor this, he set his giant club against the bar, right beside Alucard, and approached the table, staring down at the cups – not Red Solo Cups – but big wooden steins.
“We drink these?” He let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t stand a chance.”
“Listen up, meat for brains. We take turns throwing these balls from across the table into the cups. If I make it in one of yours, you have to drink that cup. Then, it’s your turn. The first one to run out of cups, loses. One grunt if you understand, two grunts if you want me to explain it again, slower, and with simpler words.”
Hercules shook his head in annoyance, ignoring my jibe. “I’d rather just drink all of these and then club you to death for mocking the glorious city of Thebes.”
That would cramp my style.
Luckily, Tory and Ashley sauntered in while he was speaking, wearing skimpy flowing toga-like tops and very short shorts. They also wore long leather-laced sandals. Hercules’ eyes locked onto them hungrily as they sat down near the table, speaking softly to each other, smiling coyly at Hercules. “Oh, look! A game. What are the stakes?” Tory asked with a beaming grin, her dark hair glistening in the dim lighting. Ashley flashed a dark grin towards Hercules. Her red hair stood out in the crowd, and looked freshly curled. She also wore her librarian glasses. She was taller than most, and lithe like a blade. She turned to me appraisingly, then shook her head as she turned back to the giant, very pointedly stating her favor on the outcome.
I smiled towards them. Tory was a Beast Master – able to control shifters at will. And although only five-feet-tall, she could bend metal with her bare hands or smash you with a car as easily as wielding a hammer. She was… strong. And a good friend.
Ashley was fiancée to my best friend, Gunnar, the local Alpha werewolf, and she was hyper-violent when she chose to be. Life as a werewolf had only toned her muscles, which were evident with her current outfit. She definitely caught the eye. Another friend. And perfect bait for the Greek Frat boy.
I pretended not to know them. “Good evening, ladies. Maybe one of you would share a drink with the winner? He’s trying to defend the honor of his shitty city, Thebes.” I rolled my eyes. Hercules shoulders tightened, which seemed to threaten an avalanche of testosterone as he snarled under his breath. Then he looked back to the women, to the table, and finally to me. I held out my hands, waiting.
“Sure,” Ashley said, smiling at Hercules.
“You’re on, wizard. I’ll consider doing this labor for the gods for free. Well, for a drink,” he smiled savagely at Ashley and Tory, who egged him on with blushes and giggles.
“When I win, you owe me an answer, and your cloak.”
Hercules rolled his eyes. “You cannot possibly win. So, I accept. But when I win, you die, and I’ll drink to your death with one…” he met their eyes, “or both of them.”
They shared a shy look with each other, and finally nodded, giggling.
I hoped Mallory’s spell was good.
If not, the cavalry would need to swoop into the bar, Gunnar at the lead. To save the girls, not me. Because I would be a whack-a-mole casualty.
Chapter 2
I rolled up my sleeves, and prepared to play a drinking game with the demigod. I couldn’t use magic, but I was hoping I wouldn’t have to. I had experience with this game. I had been playing with Yahn – a chameleon dragon pal – since we had been holed up at my house for so long, waiting for the war. Still, I needed to get him drunk fast. But I had rigged the game in other ways, too. Making the cups a little smaller on my side than his. That had been hard to set up. First, to get permission to set up the game table, then to find a way to piss off Hercules fast so he might overlook it.
I had heard he wasn’t too bright, and that he was very emotionally-driven. So I could play head games with the brute.
Also, Yahn and I had practiced with the much smaller cups at Chateau Falco. I hadn’t told anyone my plan until tonight. Everyone had called it incredibly reckless, especially Gunnar, after Ashley volunteered to step in as bait. Herc had a thing for pretty women, booze, and all things fraternity-focused.
I used this against him. I pointed a finger at Alucard, an apparent stranger. “Ref.” Alucard shrugged, his face mildly interested, and approached the table, nodding absently to himself. “There’s more drink on the bar right there,” I said, pointing. “A special home brew I think Hercules will enjoy.
Hercules looked instantly skeptical. I sighed, making it blatantly obvious how I felt about his lack of courage. I walked over to his side, took one of the cups, and then downed it, never lowering my eyes from his. This close, I could feel the power rolling off him. Not magic, but something else. He wanted to kill me. Slowly. And I was pretty sure he would enjoy doing it.
“No need to be scared, ya’ big teddy bear,” I said, shaking my head.
And I turned my back on him, half-expecting to die right there. That was the risk. I needed to mess with his head. I needed him emotional. Distracted. It was his weakness. He wasn’t used to being ridiculed, only adored and worshipped.
The discreet laughs had the desired effect, because when I returned to my side of the table, I saw his face was that purple shade again. Alucard slowly approached with a jug of dark brown liquor and refilled the cup apologetically.
Hercules grunted, turning from the table to me. “Let’s get on with this.” His eyes roved to the girls. “I have other things to do this night.”
“All you’re going to be doing is wearing my cape, staring up at the ceiling, drunk off your ass.”
Hercules’ ma
ssive fists flexed, eyes flicking to my cape and hat. “That hat and cape will soon be shoved so far up your ass that you will briefly taste them. Before you die, that is,” he said, letting out a deep laugh. No one joined him. “Enough words, tiny man. Let’s pong ball.”
Not too bright, the demigod.
I went first, sinking one easily. I motioned for him to drink. He muttered as he downed the cup, then blinked in pleasant surprise. “This is good. Even losing a little is fun.”
I shrugged. “It’s why frat boys play… pong-ball,” I said drily, my eyes flicking to the slowly gathering crowd. They looked to be trying very hard to bite back laughter. “Everyone wins.”
Hercules met my eyes as he scooped up the tiny ping pong ball in his hand. “Except when you die for losing,” he grinned.
I waited until he was getting ready to throw, and then flung up one hand in a fake claw as I growled dramatically, “RAWR!” like I would at a toddler. My other hand flicked out my pink lion cape for emphasis. He fumbled, having expected a magical attack, and the ball bounced away. He scowled at me.
Wild Side: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 7 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 1