The Antipope was the newest guest in their prison, and would likely be given a fair trial. In exchange for his cooperation.
I hadn’t wanted to risk running into Claire and Beckett at my apartment, possibly getting their freak on, so Roland had invited Arthur down to our secret compound. I had inadvertently given a job to the homeless man a few months ago after offering him sanctuary at the church. Now he was a permanent fixture, and was as dedicated as any soldier defending a castle.
After the shock had worn off – discovering that the church held secret sublevels full of deadly weapons and training gear – I had given him a list of things to pick up from my apartment. He had returned with a big bag an hour ago, enough items for a long journey – I knew not where. We were all going to take a trip. Somewhere far, far away. Even the wolves were joining us. One big happy family.
We planned on doing fun things. Like sightseeing, going out to eat, and researching how best to destroy the Templars. Roland needed time to adjust to his new life, and I just needed a break. The girls did, too.
I arched a brow at Roland as I hefted the bag Arthur had delivered on my shoulders, ready to leave. He nodded, following me up the stairs. “Were they serious about wanting to change their names? And those names? Because it’s going to be hard to get a fake ID for them.”
Roland sighed, nodding. “Paradise and Lost. Their old names are dead. They don’t want to put their families at risk, or to find a way to explain their sudden rebirth.”
I shook my head. “Still, Paradise and Lost?” I emphasized.
He scowled at me. “I’m a vampire. They are my familiars. It sounds perfectly cliché.”
I rolled my eyes as we exited the secret door into the church proper. “Alright, Richter.”
He frowned. “What?”
“If you want cliché, change your name to Richter Belmont.” He blinked at me, not understanding. “Castlevania. The Vampire hunter who became Dracula?” I asked. Nothing. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
I trailed a hand across the walls like a loving embrace. This might be the last time we were here. This was a Conclave-sanctioned church, and with neither of us being attached to them anymore, this might just be goodbye. Roland also looked nostalgic, but resolved. He was more bitter about it than I was, which was saying something. I heard him mutter Richter to himself a few times, as if trying it on for size.
I chuckled as I placed my hand on the door leading outside. I opened it to find two charming FBI Agents waiting for me. They did a double-take, and then their faces hardened.
“Miss Penrose?” I nodded warily. “You’re wanted for questioning about events in Italy.”
Chapter 56
I almost turned and ran. How the hell had they learned about Italy? Roland placed an arm around my shoulder, staying in the dark shadows of the church as he spoke. “She has been with me. What’s the problem?”
“She was seen at a hotel in Italy, and is wanted for questions related to an attack at a church a few nights ago. Also, the disappearance of Bishop Anthony Gregory Gutierrez.”
Roland grunted. “That’s ridiculous. We went out that night, remember?” he asked me. “You called an Uber and they took us home. Pull up your bank statement on your phone.”
I blinked, nodding dumbly as I pulled out my phone and logged into my account. Sure enough, Claire’s Uber ride was shown as pending. As was a charge at a bar. I showed it to the Agents, trying to turn my anxiety into a look of concern.
“Is this some kind of identity theft thing? I hear there’s been an uptick lately,” I said, sounding alarmed. “And did you say a bishop?”
The Agents shared a very thoughtful look. Roland frowned at the Detectives. “She certainly hasn’t had time to visit Italy, for what, a day? How long is that flight, anyway?”
They didn’t look pleased, but finally nodded. “We’ll look into that. We’ll be needing a copy of that bank statement once it posts.” He eyed the bag in my hand. “I would advise against leaving town.”
The other Agent sized up Roland, as if trying to get a better look since he was still in the shadows. “And your name?”
Roland’s tone grew decidedly less polite, almost icy. “I am but a humble priest, but you may call me Richter Belmont.” I almost choked, but he continued. “Unless you have proof that her passport was stamped in Italy, this young woman can do as she pleases,” he growled. The Agents actually took a step back at the menace in his voice. When he spoke next, his voice almost had a syrupy quality to it. Soothing. Enticing. Bewitching. “You have no reason to be concerned with us… You should drop all interest in either of us.”
The two Agents slowly nodded, eyes dazed. “You’re right. Not her. Impossible…”
“What led you to suspect her?” Roland pressed in that same hypnotic tone.
“Anonymous tip…” one said, slurring his speech. The other Agent was openly drooling.
“Thank you for your time. Have a safe drive back to the office,” Roland said in a normal voice. They nodded and stumbled down the stairs, returning to an SUV parked near the entrance.
I rounded on Roland when they were out of earshot. “Did you just use the Force on them?” I asked, incredulously.
Roland grinned proudly. “I guess so…” he admitted. Neither of us voiced that he shouldn’t have been able to do that as such a new vampire. Was it because he had been turned by Haven, a Master Vampire?
“And how the hell did you know about the Uber?” I demanded, face blushing at the memory of Claire and Beckett.
He shrugged. “Arthur said he found a note from Claire on top of your wallet with some cash, thanking you for the Uber and the money. I shoved them in your bag.”
I watched as the FBI Agents pulled out of the lot. “Who told on me? Crispin?”
He sighed. “Or the Templar. Olin Fuentes.”
I growled murderously. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Baaaaah, baaaah,” a voice bleated from down the hall, sounding like a sheep. Roland and I spun to see Nate Temple poking his head out of our super-secret Shepherd door, the one that led down to our training area.
“Nate?” I gasped, ignoring his attempt at humor in bleating at the Shepherds like a sheep.
“How did you get in there!?” Roland bellowed.
Nate stepped into the hall, winking mischievously. “Sweet hair, Callie. Love it.” He turned to Roland, who was growling at Nate’s subtle comment. I almost burst out laughing at that. “I wanted to swing by and return something.” He seemed to wilt slightly under our twin glares. “I… well, I kinda stole a book from the Vatican. A Welsh Bible. I needed it for something, but now I’m finished with it. I hoped Roland could return it without a fuss. Since he’s cool with the Conclave.”
“How?” I asked, feeling a migraine coming on. “You and Alucard were in the room with us!”
Nate shrugged. “A dragon pal of mine helped me. Yahn. He’s really sneaky and can turn invisible. Those old goats never even knew he was there!” he chuckled. Seeing our faces, he cut off abruptly. “Look, I knew they wouldn’t let me in there to have a look, so I borrowed it. It’s nothing dangerous. I just had a translation issue I needed to verify, so I needed the original. Trust me, I know how to handle books. I run an arcane bookstore. No harm done. But I am sorry,” he said, dipping his head at Roland.
The hallway was silent for a few tense moments, and I prepared myself to physically bar Roland from killing Nate. But wonder of all wonders, Roland began to laugh. Nate looked like he would rather have been yelled at. He shot me a desperate look, as if to ask if Roland had snapped.
I smiled at Roland, making sure he was okay, but he was clutching his sides, shaking his head at the irony. I turned back to Nate. “We… well, we don’t work for them anymore.” And I told him. About Roland. The fight. Everything. He stared back, stunned.
“Wow.” Nate studied Roland for a second, smirking. “Holy vampire, huh?” he teased.
Roland let out a sigh. “I ha
ve no idea. But a vampire, yes.”
“We’re taking a long break,” I told him, nudging my bag with a boot. Then another thought hit me. I leaned in close to Roland and asked him in a whisper. He leaned back, studying my face. “I’m not your boss, Callie. I think you can make your own decisions.” He was smiling.
I turned to Nate and asked him. His wolfish grin was answer enough, but he nodded. We walked back to the outer door, Roland telling Nate about the two wolves.
“I’d really like to meet them if that’s okay?” Nate asked.
Roland glanced at me and I nodded. “I’ll go start your car, old man.” He grunted and the two of them went off in search of Paradise and Lost. I had my hand on the door when I saw a car skid into the parking lot. Claire jumped out as if intending to invade the church, Beckett hot on her heels. I groaned. Couldn’t a girl run away in peace?
With a resigned sigh, I opened the door just before she barreled through it. Claire squeaked in surprise. I grinned instinctively at her reaction. She was a shifter bear now – she needed to act a little tougher. Not wanting to prolong the inevitable, I spoke. “How was your wild date?” I steeled myself for the answer.
They shared an embarrassed look and then burst out laughing. I kept the smile plastered on my face, not understanding what was so funny. Claire skipped up to me and gave me a big hug, whispering into my ear. “Not my type.” Then she leaned back and held out her palm for Beckett to back up. He did and Claire turned back to me, speaking softly.
“My hormones were a little out of whack in Alaska. I might have spoken in haste. But spending time with Beckett a few nights ago just confirmed that I’m not into flings. He’s a great guy, but not for me,” she said suggestively.
Then she turned back to Beckett. “You may approach now,” she said, haughtily.
He rolled his eyes, turning to me. “Hey, Callie. Glad you made it home okay.”
I smiled, holding out my arms for a hug. He accepted and it felt nice.
“You ready to go, Callie?” Nate asked from behind me.
Beckett stepped away from me, giving Nate a carefully controlled smile, but the tension was obvious. Nate walked up and smiled. “Hey, Claire.” Then he held out a hand to shake with Beckett. “My name’s Nate.”
I knew Beckett well enough to sense the jealousy. But I didn’t have the energy to make him feel better. Hearing he had spent the night with Claire had bothered me for days. This was just Karma giving me a pat on the back.
Maybe I would get to finally make up my mind about this billionaire from St. Louis. Both professionally and personally.
“I don’t know when we’ll be back, but I’ll be in touch,” I told Claire, ignoring the desperate curiosity in her eyes. “Take care of yourself, Roland,” I said, sensing his presence behind Nate.
Roland grinned from the shadows. “You too, Callie.” He gave Nate a respectful nod. “You too, Temple. Take good care of her, or I’ll have to take good care of you…” he said with a dark grin. Still pleasant, but a warning not to do me harm.
I rolled my eyes. “Let’s go, rogue,” I said, guiding Nate back inside the church, knowing we wouldn’t be taking a car where we were going. Wherever the hell that was.
“You’re never going to believe what I found, Callie…” Nate said, his eyes twinkling.
I was ready for some mystery. “Show me,” I said, smiling at him. “I might have a thing or two to show you as well…”
Callie returns in ANGEL’S ROAR. Get your copy online!!
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 noticed no changes in my surroundings. Hopefully, my magic had silenced the sound and my resulting outburst. I glanced down at the phone to scan the text and then typed back a quick and angry response before I switched the cursed phone to vibrate.
Now, where were we…
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 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-brown tufts of my hair—a face like a jewelry box. Of course, that was two bottles of wine into a date, so I could have been a little foggy on her quote. 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 twi
tch 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 couldn’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 thick, gold ring dangling from his snotty snout quivered as the Minotaur panted, and his dense, corded muscle contracted over his human-like chest. As I stared up into those brown eyes, I actually felt sorry…for, well, myself.
“I have killed greater men than you for less offense,” he growled.
I swear to God his voice sounded like an angry James Earl Jones. Like Mufasa talking to Scar.
“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.
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