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

by Shayne Silvers

  Their armor burst to life – vines, wood, and leaves squeezing, strangling, and piercing the dozen men. They died horribly and instantly, painting the hallway with their blood. The earth let out an appreciative sigh, and then thanked me for granting her retribution, paying her tribute.

  I dipped my head, and stepped through the doorway into the courtyard.

  Robin Goodfellow watched from a nearby barrel, discreetly nodding his head in approval, but also looking ready to bolt in case I tried to kill him. His eyes flicked to the right, and I noticed a fist of soldiers glaring at us from two dozen paces away. I heard the Queens shrieking for the guards to halt and leave us be, sounding frightened at both the sudden violence and the fact that I hadn’t used my Manling magic, but their Fae magic. This terrified them.

  And their soldiers obeyed.

  I didn’t cease walking. Robin subtly pointed his chin down the courtyard and I followed it to see Talon and Tory standing beside Carl, hiding in the shadows as they watched the nearby soldiers. They didn’t look scared, but they didn’t look eager, either. As I strode past them, I looked straight at them. They immediately stepped in behind Ashley and I, strolling with us as if we were on a casual morning walk. Guards stood in small pockets, here and there, flexing hands on their weapons, and guests of all species stared at us with cold, hard eyes. I kept a smile on my face as I continued to walk. Then I waved a casual hand over our group, and our disguises disintegrated, revealing our true forms. Well, our true forms while we had been here. Those wilder, more primitive versions of ourselves.

  As we entered the courtyard with the swinging cages, I saw that no more fun time was happening, but that they were all staring at us. I held up a hand and my group stopped. Alone, I walked right up to the troll with the pixies and held out my hand.

  He blinked at me in disbelief, and began to snarl.

  I punched him straight in the face, snatching up his fistful of leashes with my other hand. Wylde must have juiced up my fist, and I was so deep within, that I didn’t even notice him do anything magical. The ogre went flying into another ogre, knocking him down – which in turn, knocked down another ogre. I grunted, spat on the ground, and returned to my group clutching the bouquet of pixies in a fist. They flapped their wings, whispering to each other nervously, wondering what horrible fate awaited them now that they were in the hands of this psychopath.

  We strolled out of the tunnel leading back into town, and no one harassed us, even though it would have been the perfect choke point.

  But I had made a strong impression. And a bottleneck like that could easily go both ways. After all, one man could hold off dozens in such a small space.

  We walked up to a stable, picked a few horses while Carl watched our backs, and then climbed on. The stableman stood there, wringing his hands, shooting furtive glances at the guards, who refused to do anything to help. I turned back to the guards, the ones in charge of letting people into the city. I saw the cute Fae who had let us in.

  I grinned, licked my lips, and then mouthed later. She blushed, but kept her reaction hidden behind her visor where her fellow soldiers couldn’t determine which soldier I had addressed.

  We rode out of town in silence on our horses. Amazingly enough, they were your everyday horses – no tentacles, or wings, or anything odd. I began to laugh at the insanity of it all.

  I saw a pair of stiletto heels strapped to Tory’s saddle, and another pair strapped to Talon’s saddle. I let out a sigh of relief, even though I wasn’t sure why. Oberon had lied about the kid. Had he also lied about my friend and the heels?

  Why had Oberon Invited us to come here to save the kid, but not told us that he was intending to hunt the child with his Wild Hunt? Was his purpose really just to get his hands on the Queens’ shoes? Did he have a foot fetish of some kind? Or was this all some great, big, pointless game?

  I couldn’t do anything about it, now. We exited the thicket where we had met Barbie and Ebony, only to find them waiting on the other side. They took one look at the bouquet of pixies attached to the chains in my fist, and grew very still. I motioned for everyone to halt, and then strode up to her, holding out my hand with the chains.

  I closed my eyes, focused on the chains, and with the help of Wylde, the metal leashes evaporated, and the cloud of pixies began flapping in earnest, zipping back and forth until Ebony and Barbie got them under control with harsh curses in a language I did not know.

  It took her a minute, and as she did, I scanned the surrounding hills. I saw a black mass a few miles away, like a shifting ocean. Then another horn blew, coming from that direction, and the mass suddenly surged forward.

  I slowly swiveled my head to Talon, motioning for him to guide us. He trotted up, swallowed audibly at the Wild Hunt, and then said, “Shit.”

  “We need to find the kid. Now.”

  Barbie zipped up to land on my shoulder, and I felt the air vibrating as her companions followed. “He went that way,” she said, pointing away from the Wild Hunt. “Right after you entered the city.”

  I cursed under my breath. If we had just waited to enter the city, we might have run right into him. And an army of guards, no doubt. Still, it was frustrating.

  “Find him,” I said to her.

  “For what you have done for my sisters?” A devilish smile split her cheeks. “We will shake the very pillars of creation,” she snarled. The cloud of pixies burst ahead like a shotgun blast, covering a wide arc. Talon surged after them, yowling excitedly.

  I grinned. “We ride!”

  “Fucking right, we do,” Carl hissed, giving me a meaningful look before he burst ahead to join Talon.

  I followed them, feeling good to be riding a horse again, wondering exactly what Carl had meant. Ashley and Tory brought up the rear. Ashley was speaking softly with Tory, who was frowning thoughtfully. I didn’t know how fast the Wild Hunt moved.

  But I was betting it was pretty damned fast.

  Chapter 30

  We followed the swarm of pixies into a deep valley full of weeping willow trees. We had to be close. The boy couldn’t have gotten far on foot. I doubt they had given him a weapon of any kind, and a young boy couldn’t last long in this world. Not when everything wanted to kill and eat him.

  We didn’t want to ride too fast and wear out our horses, but we also couldn’t move too slowly, either. Those blasted horns continued at random intervals behind us, and each time they did, I felt the icy breath of death at my back. I found myself reaching out more and more to Wylde as we rode. Or maybe I just listened to him more. Sought out that partnership, that balance the Queens had once spoken of. I extended him my trust.

  He didn’t always speak. I was just very aware of his mentality, now, the lines between us more blurred. He accepted our predicament with a calm detachment. Hunt or be hunted. It was the way of the world. Finding yourself on the losing end of the spectrum wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. As long as you could maneuver your way out. A test. A proving ground.

  It was just the way the world was. Nothing to get upset about.

  Wylde was a charming fellow.

  My thoughts drifted to Robin Goodfellow. Was he an enemy? Or had he helped us? How had the Queens found us? Had he led them to Ashley and I? And why hadn’t there been a stronger guard presence? An army against five, no matter how strong the five were, really shouldn’t have been a question.

  Thinking of that sent another sensation down my spine. Not an icy chill, but more like a searing thrill. I had tapped into the magic of the land and used it as simply as I breathed. Not a conscious effort, really, just using the world around me. No more than if I had seen a sapling nearby and decided to carve a switch.

  I had tapped into this crazy world, felt a connection, and then used it. To do some pretty insane magic. I wasn’t even sure if what Wylde did was considered magic, because although I had slaughtered a good number of soldiers, I hadn’t broken a sweat. Not really. Not like I should have. To be honest, it began to make me feel nervous
. As if I had found another Demon – like the Maker’s Beast I had ripped from my soul. That Beast was currently residing in my old sword cane, which was in the possession of the Hatter.

  Who was in this world. At least… someone from this world had seen his prison and brought the story back to the children as a folk tale.

  I wondered if he was even aware he was so close to the Fae. Thinking about that, I recalled him once mentioning something about the Queens pestering him, but that had been a long time ago, and I had dismissed it as him being insane.

  Because he was.

  He had said a lot of things that were better left forgotten, and knowing his imprisonment had made him slightly unstable, I had found myself purposely forgetting many of the things he uttered. To save myself from future nightmares.

  Regardless, my Beast was somewhat safe with him. I didn’t need to worry about teaming up with the life force of creation, or whatever the hell the Maker’s Beast was. I had heard the Cliff Notes version of it and – thanks to a unique opportunity – had been able to successfully get rid of it and take back my wizard’s gift.

  But it had cost me.

  I had promised to free my Beast from the cane.

  And that unfulfilled promise had begun to tax me. I frowned to myself. Well, it had taxed me in my world. None of that seemed to matter here.

  But I wasn’t planning on making this vacation permanent. In fact, I wanted to get out of here, stat. Even though Oberon had betrayed me somehow, I knew there had to be a sliver of truth to his request. That in order to escape, I had to get the kid, the shoes, and my kidnapped friend.

  Even though he was a big fat liar on many things, possibly even those things, there was no way in hell I was leaving a kid in this place. Not happening.

  But I had plenty to occupy my time back home. Namely, a freaking war against the Greeks. I had snubbed the nose of Hercules and inadvertently killed Bellerophon. And even though it had been less than a day in the Fae world, I knew time was funny between our two worlds. It could end up being twenty minutes in earth time.

  Or…

  A week.

  Surely one night couldn’t be more than that. I had spent about an hour here before when I first met the Queens, and the time change hadn’t been too bad.

  Still, it made me uneasy. I had made a mess, and then left.

  Now, I found myself fleeing from the man who had asked me to come here in the first place. Mallory’s other half, so to speak. Oberon. And he was apparently the Goblin King as well, leader of the Wild Hunt. It made me really wish I could just sit down and connect dots, jotting down who was who in my world, because I was beginning to see that these legendary people usually had more than one hat, and that the world at large thought they were two entirely different people, when in fact, several gods and myths seemed to be neatly wrapped up into one sadistic individual. Like the world of magic was really just a group of people with multiple personality disorders.

  The usual stories that most read about the Fae are kind of contradictory, and although I had read most of them, I hadn’t expected anything like this. I had expected a sophisticated court of royalty. Deadly, sure. But not this… primitive.

  Then again, primitive didn’t sound right. That implied they were backwards, uncivilized, impractical. But they were the opposite of that. They were cunning, ruthless, and savage. But they also seemed… enlightened, maybe? At one with their surroundings.

  At least, judging by my relationship with Wylde.

  But that opened up a whole ‘nother can of worms. Who was Wylde, really? I had memories of him as a freaking kid, for crying out loud. And memories of spending time with Talon the Devourer – my pet cat. And Talon said he had memories of me, as well. Wylde even looked like me, where my friends had drastically changed appearances in this place. Was Wylde a version of myself? Like Pan, Mallory, and Oberon were kind of the same person?

  Or was he real? His own person. Was I simply inhabiting his body? Possessing him? I shook my head as I thought about that. It didn’t make sense. Because Wylde was a force of nature. A conqueror. A… Marauder, as Robin Goodfellow had said. And Robin had acted like he’d never heard of me. If Wylde was a real person, surely the Queens would have at least acted confused, wondering how Nate Temple was possessing the body of one of their subjects. Or they would have heard of him, because Wylde seemed like the kind of bro that might have earned a name for himself. Judging by how efficiently he slung magic around. How casually he used his powers.

  Then again, he wasn’t really using his powers. He was using my powers. Or the powers in the land. Simply asking them for the occasional assist. Like borrowing starlight. Or asking the dead branches to exact a little vengeance against the Fae for wearing their carcasses as armor.

  I sighed, shaking my head.

  I needed to get the kid, and get out of here. Then? A drink.

  I looked up at my surroundings, scanning the trees, making sure none of them were about to eat me or my friends. Everyone seemed fine. They each had weapons out and were alternating between riding and walking beside their mounts. Like experienced horsemen.

  But I knew for a fact that none of them were experienced horsemen.

  Yet… they rode, maintained, and cared for their horses as if it was a normal part of life.

  Because this damned place had affected them as well. Changed them. Brought out that darker nature inside them. The raw instinct. The carnal thirst. The bloodlust. The heart and soul of a survivor.

  Well, Carl had already had that, and had been learning how to become civilized like my other pals in my world. Maybe coming here truly was a jaunt back home for him. But I knew for a fact that at least Ashley was in the same boat as me. Aware, and struggling against her new self.

  I had yet to spend much time around Tory, but that was next on my list. I just wanted to think for a minute. Give them a task to accomplish, keep them occupied so I could think unobserved. Because if any of them grew suspicious of why their leader was acting soft as opposed to harsh, I was pretty confident that I would be placed on a spit and cooked for dinner.

  Hopefully, Talon the Devourer, would help me with that. Stick up for me.

  He was an asshole. But the little fuzzy bastard had grown on me. And not just because he had upgraded to the rated R version of Puss in Boots. Over the last year, I had found him to be a confidant. He didn’t share much about his past, but I had often spent time talking with him in the Sanctorum. Much like I would have talked to, well, my dad.

  He knew things. Or at least understood me when I brought up things. I had smart friends, but none of them truly understood me when I went off on magical tangents. They trusted me, so they nodded affirmatively and went along with it.

  But Sir Muffle Paws? He challenged me at every turn. As did the Ravens. The three beasts had an unspoken truce of sorts. Maybe truce was too strong of a word, because I was sure one would attack the other if they thought they could get away with it.

  I idly wondered if Sir Muffle Paws would remain as a cat once we got home, or if the time for disguises was long past. Or maybe he had sacrificed his current form to come to my world. Part of a bargain.

  I sighed, scanning ahead again. Tory and Ashley hunted in a pair, watching our left flank, leaving no stone unturned. Because if I had been a kid fleeing for my life, I would have immediately sought out a hidey-hole. Carl was on the right flank, doing the same, using his superior senses to his advantage. The pixies had given him the boy’s scent.

  Speaking of, the pixies scouted ahead in a confusing cloud of flashing lights. Sparkling like Will-o’-the-wisps. They led our party, with Talon hot on their trail in his velvet boots that didn’t leave a trail.

  I whistled sharply, and saw a silver form peel off from the cloud of pixies. She zipped right up to my face, waiting patiently. “Barbie, go check on the Hunt. I need to know what they are doing.”

  She nodded. “They’re likely hunting, Rider.”

  I scowled at her, but she had already t
urned away.

  I glanced up at the ridgeline to our left, knowing it would lead back the way we had originally traveled. Did we need to return that way after we retrieved the kid? Was that even an option? With the Wild Hunt breathing down our necks, we might not have time to spend hours traveling back to where we had first appeared by that stone.

  That was… if we even could return. Because Oberon, the man leading the Wild Hunt, had been our first friendly encounter in the Land of the Fae, and I wasn’t really sure how to get back without his help. Mallory had brought us here. Did Oberon have to return us? Because that meant we simply needed to let the Hunt overrun us. I glanced at the other ridgeline, and froze.

  A tall, red-haired young man in hunting leathers stood limned on the crest of the hill, staring down at me as if he had been waiting for my attention. It was the same fucking wanderer we had seen earlier. To prove this, he held up a sword, letting the broiling sun above reflect off the copper blade. I grunted. No steel in this world. Then he stabbed his sword into the ground and held up both hands, revealing three fingers on each. Six total. Then he lowered his hands, grabbed his sword, and turned away.

  Carl saw me looking over his shoulder and followed my gaze. As he looked, the man had already disappeared over the hill. Carl turned back to me, frowning. I pointed up at the hill, urgently. “It’s the fingering Ginger! Find him!”

  Chapter 31

  Elder Carl jumped onto his horse, sensing my urgency, and galloped up the hill. I watched him disappear over the other side, and waited. The others took turns watching me and the hill.

  Talon glided up to me with his horse, the stiletto shoes he had stolen clacking against each other as the horse moved. They glistened like frost, and I had heard him more than once ask if anyone else was cold. “Fingering Ginger? Is that really the first words that came to mind?”

  I shrugged. “He’s a redhead. And he waves his fingers at us. He’s obviously stalking us.” I turned to look at the feline. “Do you think he works for Oberon? Part of the Hunt?”