Shades of Blood and Darkness (Templar Chronicles Missions eNovella #1) (6 page)
Read Shades of Blood and Darkness (Templar Chronicles Missions eNovella #1) Online
Authors: Joseph Nassise
“Drop dead, asshole. I don’t know who you’re talkin’ about.”
Expressionless, Cade shot him in the other leg, shattering the man’s right kneecap.
Alvarez writhed in agony, his muscles straining against the pain. Riley’s arms tensed, but that was the only outward sign of the increased effort he exerted to hold the prisoner securely in place.
Over the wounded man’s cries, Cade shouted, “Tell me where he is!”
The prisoner lapsed back into Spanish, cursing his interrogator vehemently; but he did not acknowledge Cade’s demand. His blood flowed down his legs and began to pool on the cracked linoleum beneath his feet.
Cade snorted in disgust and motioned Riley out of the way. The sergeant lost no time in following orders.
Cade raised the gun and pointed it at the prisoner’s face. “Last chance.”
With that, Alvarez went abruptly still. His eyes lost focus, as if listening to a voice no one else could hear, and his face went slack. Out of the corner of his eye Cade caught Riley looking at him quizzically, but he kept his eyes on the prisoner, watching him closely and didn’t respond.
Without a change in expression, Alvarez began to shake. His head twisted from side to side erratically as it shuddered atop his neck, darting this way and that like a hyperactive hummingbird. His mouth opened wide, stretching impossibly far. It seemed as if he was screaming, but no sound issued forth. Finally, with a loud pop, his lower jaw dislocated itself.
Cade calmly watched, his gun unwavering from the target.
The shaking intensified, the legs of the chair skipping and bumping against the tiles, leaving little skid marks in the blood pooling beneath Alvarez’s feet. A strange squealing sound came from his throat. Alvarez’s eyes bulged from their sockets, and blood ran freely from his ears.
Still, Cade stood and waited.
It was only when a widening crack appeared in the center of the prisoner’s forehead, a crack that dripped a substance far darker than blood, that Cade reacted.
With a twitch of his trigger finger, he put a bullet through Alvarez’s skull.
The prisoner and his chair went over backward to lie still on the blood-stained tiles.
In the silence that followed, no one moved for several long moments as they waited to be certain the thing that had once been Juan Alvarez was good and truly dead, then Cade gave the signal, and the team went instantly into motion. One of the men policed the brass from the floor while another checked to be certain no one had left anything behind that might betray their presence in the house. Thirty seconds later the team was filing out the front door and climbing back into the Expeditions, with Cade and Riley taking open seats in the lead vehicle.
Less than five minutes after entry the team was on its way, leaving behind seven bodies to lie cooling in the darkness.
*** ***
Later that night.
He stands alone in the center of the street, in a town that has no name. He has been here before, more than once, but each time the resolution is different, as if the events about to transpire are ordained by the random chance found in the motion of a giant spinning wheel, a cosmic wheel of fortune, and not by the actions he is about to take or has taken before.
He knows from previous experience that, just a few blocks beyond this one the town suddenly ends, becoming a great plain of nothingness, the landscape an artist’s canvas that stands untouched, unwanted.
This town has become the center of his universe.
Around him, the blackened buildings sag in crumbling heaps, testimony to his previous visits. He wonders what the town will look like a few weeks from now, when the confrontation about to take place has been enacted and re-enacted and reenacted again, until even these ragged shells stand no more. Will the road, like the buildings, be twisted and torn?
He does not know.
He turns his attention back to the present, for even after all this time, he might learn something new that could lead him to his opponent’s true identity.
The sky is growing dark, though night is still hours away. Dark grey storm clouds laced with green-and-silver lightning are rolling in from the horizon, like horses running hard to reach the town’s limits before the fated confrontation begins. The air is heavy with impending rain and the electrical tension of the coming storm. In the slowly fading afternoon light the shadows around him stretch and move. He learned early on that they can have a life of their own.
He avoids them now.
The sound of booted feet striking the pavement catches his attention, and he knows he has exhausted his time here. He turns to face the length of the street before him, just in time to see his foe emerge from the crumbled ruins at its end, just as he has emerged each and every time they have encountered one another in this place. It is as if his enemy is always there, silently waiting with infinite patience for him to make his appearance.
Pain shoots across his face and through his hands, phantoms of the true sensation that had once coursed through his flesh, from their first meeting in another time and place. Knowing it will not last, he waits the few seconds for the pain to fade. Idly, he wonders, not for the first time, if the pain is caused by his foe or by his own recollection of the suffering he once endured at the enemy’s hands.
He smiles grimly as the pain fades.
A chill wind suddenly rises, stirring the hairs on the back of his neck, and in that wind, he is certain he can hear the soft, sibilant whispers of a thousand lost souls, each and every one crying out to him to provide solace and sanctuary.
The voices act as a physical force, pushing him forward from behind, and before he knows it he is striding urgently down the street. His hands clench into fists as he is enveloped with the desire to tear his foe limb from limb with his bare hands. So great is his anger that it makes him forget the other weapons at his disposal in this strange half state of reality.
The Adversary, as he has come to call him in the years since their first, life-altering encounter, simply stands in the middle of the street, waiting. The Adversary’s features are hidden in the darkness of the hooded cloak that he wears over his form in this place, his mocking laughter echoes clearly off the deserted buildings and carries easily in the silence.
The insult only adds fuel to Cade’s rage.
Just as he draws closer, the scene shifts, wavers, the way a mirage will shimmy in the heat rising from the pavement. For a second it regains its form and in that moment Cade has the opportunity to glimpse the surprise in the other’s face, then everything dissolves around him in a dizzying spiral of shifting patterns and unidentified shapes.
When the scene solidifies once more, he finds himself standing in a cemetery. Large, carefully sculpted angels adorn the nearest of the gravestones, with only the word Godspeed carved beneath them. Older, more decayed stones decorate the other burial plots nearby, but he is not close enough to see the details etched there.
A sense of urgency grips him in its bony fist.
It forces him into motion, and he sets off across the lawn, winding in and out between the stones, letting that feeling guide his passage until he sees a small plot set off from the rest by a white picket fence. In the strange twilight, the rails of the fence gleam with the wetness of freshly revealed bone. The coppery tang of blood floats on the night air.
As he moves closer he can see that the earth on the other side of the fence has been freshly disturbed. A grave lies open, a gaping hole in the peaceful sea of green grass that surrounds it, filled with a darkness deeper than that of the night sky above. This intrusion of the landscape and of the sanctity of the place draws him closer still, pulling him in toward it the way a fly is coaxed into a spider’s web.
He stops just short of the small fence and gazes down into the darkness of the grave.
Unable to see clearly, he places one hand on the fence and leans forward, straining to get a better look.
Something moves down there, a furtive motion.
Beneath his hand the fence begins to twist and turn, tumbling him forward toward the darkness of that open grave, just as two eyes gleam hungrily from that inky murk…
Cade awoke in the darkness of his bedroom, his heart pounding and his body slick with cold sweat. He lay still for a moment, gathering his breath, and reached out for the phone in the second before its shrill ring pierced the silence of the bedroom.
“I’m on my way,” he said into the receiver, then hung up before the startled novice placing the call could explain the reason for the late-night summons.
He does not need that information.
The dream has already told him everything he needs to know.
A PERSONAL NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Thanks for buying SHADES OF BLOOD AND DARKNESS! I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it. Cade Williams is one of my favorite characters and there are plenty of other Templar Chronicles books now available, including THE HERETIC.
I would really appreciate it if you would help spread the word by posting a review on Barnesandnoble.com. It only takes a few minutes and does not have to be very long. Every new review increases the chance for B&N to help push my books and that means I get to keep delivery high-quality and action-packed adventures to readers like you!
One last thing - If you would like to receive an email straight from me whenever I have a new book coming out,
sign-up for my mailing list
and I will keep you up-to-date on the latest happenings.
Thanks again and happy reading!
BOOKS IN THE TEMPLAR CHRONICLES SERIES
JUDGMENT DAY (coming Summer 2014)
BABYLON DREAMS (coming Fall 2014)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joseph Nassise is the author of more than twenty novels, including the internationally bestselling TEMPLAR CHRONICLES series, the JEREMIAH HUNT trilogy, and the GREAT UNDEAD WAR series. He has also written several books in the popular Rogue Angel action-adventure series. He’s a former president of the Horror Writers Association, the world’s largest organization of professional horror writers, a two time Bram Stoker Award and International Horror Guild Award nominee, and a writing coach who enjoys working with other writers and helping them attain their publishing dreams.
Connect with him online at:
SHADES OF BLOOD AND DARKNESS
Originally published as THIS CLEANSING FIRE
Copyright 2014 by Joseph Nassise
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.