Jack Templar and the Lord of the Werewolves (Book #4 of the Templar Chronicles)

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Book: Jack Templar and the Lord of the Werewolves (Book #4 of the Templar Chronicles) by Jeff Gunhus Read Free Book Online
Authors: Jeff Gunhus
Tags: Fiction
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and saw an unexpected sight.
    A dark, high-ceiled room filled with men, wild animals, and monsters.
    All staring at me.

Chapter 10
    Muscular men held enormous swords over their heads. A lion, teeth bared, crouched ready to jump. A monster with a woman’s body, but a head covered with snakes, held her clawed hands up, ready to scratch out my eyes. Winged harpies stretched their talons out toward me.
    I would have been in big trouble if they had all been real. Luckily, they weren’t. They were just marble statues.
    Still, they were pretty creepy, an obvious warning to anyone dumb enough to break into this house that this was one place they really didn’t want to be.
    Beyond the statues, I saw the glow of natural light. I drew my sword and slowly made my way through the maze of statues. I remembered how the gargoyles on Notre Dame had come alive, and I wasn’t taking any chances. Lucky for me, all the statues behaved themselves and remained frozen in place.
    After I passed the last statue, a long, serpentine dragon with marble flames billowing from its mouth, I saw that the light came from a large, round courtyard garden, surrounded on all sides by windowless walls two-stories high.
    Ornate columns lined its outside edges. In the center of the garden stood another circle of pillars. From this second circle, out stepped the little girl I’d been following.
    “You said you possessed no intention to hurt me,” she said, her voice and word choice oddly formal.
    Her eyes bore into me. They were an ice-cold blue, almost to a point of looking otherworldly. I could have sworn her eyes had been brown when I’d seen her at the temple.
    “I won’t hurt you,” I said. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
    The girl laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. It felt like she was making fun of me for some reason.
    “Then why do you bring a weapon into my garden?” she said.
    I realized I had a firm grip on my sword. I was about to lower it, put it away even, but something made me hesitate. Something was wrong here.
    “This is your garden?” I said, lowering the tip of my sword just slightly. “Pretty nice for a pickpocket.”
    The girl looked down her nose at me. “I only ask. I do not take what is not mine.”
    “So you didn’t take that German guy’s money?”
    The girl closed her eyes for a brief second and then opened them. “That idiot will find his money in his backpack tonight and feel only joy that he came out forty euros ahead. He’ll laugh with his friends about the idiot American who gave his money to save a street beggar.”
    The Templar ring vibrated in my hand. The girl’s eyes darted to it, and I covered it with my other hand on reflex. She smiled, but again I felt the sense that there was no kindness in it.
    “So the rumors are true. You have recovered the Templar ring, and you collect the Jerusalem Stones.”
    “Who are you?” I whispered.
    “I think you already know that, Jack Templar,” the girl said.
    “You’re the one I came to find,” I said. “You’re the Oracle of Delphi.”
    The girl grinned and raised her arms over her head. Slowly, she transformed in front of me, growing from a child into a teenager, then a young woman. The baggy clothes of the girl became a well-cut dress, cinched at the waist by a red sash. The facial features bore a resemblance to the little girl but were now developed in real beauty. The eyes remained the same though. Ice-cold, calculating, pale-blue so they almost appeared clear.
    “Yes, I am the Oracle. My name is Pythia. And your kindness to me today gained you this audience.”
    My brain clicked into gear. “So that was the test?” I asked. “Just helping a homeless girl? I think most people would help.”
    “Then you are a fool. Man is a cruel breed, able to overlook the plight of even the most helpless, even the needs of a child.”
    “Not everyone is like that,” I argued.
    Pythia shook her head, looking at me as if I was stupid. “Even

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