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 in resignation, 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 towards 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 allowed myself to experience 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 imprint in my face if he felt so inclined.
I hoped our blossoming friendship wouldn’t end that way. I really did.
Get your copy of OBSIDIAN SON online today!
Turn the page to read a sample of WHISKEY GINGER - Phantom Queen Diaries Book 1, or BUY ONLINE. Quinn MacKenna is a black magic arms dealer from the mean streets of Boston. Everything was going fine until she accidentally robbed Nate Temple…
(Full chronology of all books in the Temple Verse shown on the ‘BOOKS IN THE TEMPLE VERSE’ page.)
TRY: WHISKEY GINGER (PHANTOM QUEEN DIARIES # 1)
The pasty guitarist hunched forward, thrust a rolled-up wad of paper deep into one nostril, and snorted a line of blood crystals—frozen hemoglobin that I’d smuggled over in a refrigerated canister—with the uncanny grace of a drug addict. He sat back, fangs gleaming, and pawed at his nose. “That’s some bodacious shit. Hey, bros,” he said, glancing at his fellow band members, “come hit this shit before it melts.”
He fetched one of the backstage passes hanging nearby, pried the plastic badge from its lanyard, and used it to split up the crystals, murmuring something in an accent that reminded me of California. Not the California, but you know, Cali-foh-nia—the land of beaches, babes, and bros. I retrieved a toothpick from my pocket and punched it through its thin wrapper. “So,” I asked no one in particular, “now that ye have the product, who’s payin’?”
Another band member stepped out of the shadows to my left, and I don’t mean that figuratively, either—the fucker literally stepped out of the shadows. I scowled at him, but hid my surprise, nonchalantly rolling the toothpick from one side of my mouth to the other.
The rest of the band gathered around the dressing room table, following the guitarist’s lead by preparing their own snorting utensils—tattered magazine covers, mostly. Typically, you’d do this sort of thing with a dollar-bill, maybe even a Benjamin if you were flush. But fangers like this lot couldn’t touch cash directly—in God We Trust and all that. Of course, I didn’t really understand why sucking blood the old-fashioned way had suddenly gone out of style. More of a rush, maybe?
“It lasts longer,” the vampire next to me explained, catching my mildly curious expression. “It’s especially good for shows and stuff. Makes us look, like, less—”
“Creepy?” I offered, my Irish brogue lilting just enough to make it a question.
“Pale,” he finished, frowning.
I shrugged. “Listen, I’ve got places to be,” I said, holding out my hand.
“I’m sure you do,” he replied, smiling. “Tell you what, why don’t you, like, hang around for a bit? Once that wears off,” he dipped his head toward the bloody powder smeared across the table’s surface, “we may need a pick-me-up.” He rested his hand on my arm and our gazes locked.
I blinked, realized what he was trying to pull, and rolled my eyes. His widened in surprise, then shock as I yanked out my toothpick and shoved it through his hand.
“Motherfuck—”
“I want what we agreed on,” I declared. “Now. No tricks.”
The rest of the band saw what happened and rose faster than I could blink. They circled me, their grins feral…they might have even seemed intimidating if it weren’t for the fact that they each had a case of the sniffles—I had to work extra hard not to think about what it felt like to have someone else’s blood dripping down my nasal cavity.
I held up a hand.
“Can I ask ye gentlemen a question before we get started?” I asked. “Do ye even have what I asked for?”
Two of the band members exchanged looks and shrugged. The guitarist, however, glanced back towards the dressing room, where a brown paper bag sat next to a case full of makeup. He caught me looking and bared his teeth, his fangs stretching until it looked like it would be uncomfortable for him to close his mouth without piercing his own lip.
“Follow-up question,” I said, eyeing the vampire I’d stabbed as he gingerly withdrew the toothpick from his hand and flung it across the room with a snarl. “Do ye do each other’s make-up? Since, ye know, ye can’t use mirrors?”
I was genuinely curious.
The guitarist grunted. “Mike, we have to go on soon.”
“Wait a minute. Mike?” I turned to the snarling vampire with a frown. “What happened to The Vampire Prospero?” I glanced at the numerous fliers in the dressing room, most of which depicted the band members wading through blood, with Mike in the lead, each one titled The Vampire Prospero in Rocky Horror Picture Show font. Come to think of it…Mike did look a little like Tim Curry in all that leather and lace.
I was about to comment on the resemblance when Mike spoke up, “Alright, change of plans, bros. We’re gonna drain this bitch before the show. We’ll look totally—”
“Creepy?” I offered, again.
“Kill her.”
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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 Callie’s story. Your dark, twisted, cunning sense of humor makes me feel right at home…
I would also like to thank you, the reader. I hope you enjoyed reading this first Boxset as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Be sure to grab the second Boxset (30% OFF!) with books 4-6 HERE!
Be sure to check out the two crossover series in the Temple Verse: The Nate Temple Series and the Phantom Queen Diaries.
And last, but definitely not least, I thank my wife, Lexy. Without your support, none of this would have been possible.
BOOKS IN THE TEMPLE VERSE
CHRONOLOGY: All stories in the Temple Verse are shown in chronological order on the following page
FEATHERS AND FIRE SERIES
(Set in the Temple Verse)
UNCHAINED
RAGE
WHISPERS
ANGEL’S ROAR
MOTHERLUCKER (Novella #4.5 in the ‘LAST CALL’ anthology)
SINNER
BLACK SHEEP
GODLESS
NATE TEMPLE SERIES
(Origin of the Temple Verse)
FAIRY TALE - FREE prequel novella #0 for my subscribers
OBSIDIAN SON
BLOOD DEBTS
GRIMM
SILVER TONGUE
BEAST MASTER
BEERLYMPIAN (Novella #5.5 in the ‘LAST CALL’ anthology)
TINY GODS
DADDY DUTY (Novella #6.5)
WILD SIDE
WAR HAMMER
NINE SOULS
HORSEMAN
LEGEND
KNIGHTMARE
ASCENSION
PHANTOM QUEEN DIARIES
(Also set in the Temple Verse)
COLLINS (Prequel novella #0 in the ‘LAST CALL’ anthology)
WHISKEY GINGER
COSMOPOLITAN
OLD FASHIONED
MOTHERLUCKER (Novella #3.5 in the ‘LAST CALL’ anthology)
DARK AND STORMY
MOSCOW MULE
WITCHES BREW
SALTY DOG
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)
BEERLYMPIAN (TEMPLE 5.5)
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)
COLLINS (PHANTOM 0)
WHISKEY GINGER (PHANTOM… 1)
NINE SOULS (TEMPLE 9)
COSMOPOLITAN (PHANTOM… 2)
ANGEL’S ROAR (FEATHERS… 4)
MOTHERLUCKER (FEATHERS 4.5, PHANTOM 3.5)
OLD FASHIONED (PHANTOM…3)
HORSEMAN (TEMPLE 10)
DARK AND STORMY (PHANTOM… 4)
MOSCOW MULE (PHANTOM…5)
SINNER (FEATHERS…5)
WITCHES BREW (PHANTOM…6)
LEGEND (TEMPLE…11)
SALTY DOG (PHANTOM…7)
BLACK SHEEP (FEATHERS…6)
GODLESS (FEATHERS…7)
KNIGHTMARE (TEMPLE 12)
ASCENSION (TEMPLE 13)
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—a second series in the Temple Verse. The story follows 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 coauthors The Phantom Queen Diaries—a third series set in The Temple Verse—with Cameron O’Connell. The story follows Quinn MacKenna, a mouthy black magic arms dealer in Boston. All she wants? A round-trip ticket to the Fae realm…and maybe a drink on the house.
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 the newest books in the Temple Verse—You can find updates on new releases or chronological reading order on the next page, his website or any of his social media accounts. Follow him online for all sorts of groovy goodies, giveaways, and new release updates:
Get Down with Shayne Online
www.shaynesilvers.com
[email protected]
Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 1 Page 85