The Heretic: Templar Chronicles Book 1 (10 page)

Read The Heretic: Templar Chronicles Book 1 Online

Authors: Joseph Nassise

Tags: #Templar Knights, #contemporary fantasy, #Horror, #urban fantasy series, #dark fantasy series, #supernatural thrillers

His teeth ripped into her tender flesh, and her hot blood flowed.

The struggles and muffled screams eventually stopped.

The voice soon returned, asking questions.

This time, his hunger satisfied for the moment, he didn’t mind answering.

With a jolt Cade came out of the trance only to find himself being held to the ground by Riley, the big man’s arm around his neck. The sharp taste of blood was strong in his mouth, and he could feel its wetness flowing down his chin.

On the ground a few feet away sat Duncan, his left arm cradling his right, blood flowing from a small wound on his forearm. Nick was kneeling beside him, trying to stop the flow of blood.

“He bit me,” Duncan said, incredulous.

Cade didn’t hear him. He pulled himself free of Riley’s hold and sat up, moving to face the other man. He now understood what they were facing and the knowledge filled him with fear.

“Revenants,” he said. “They’re raising revenants.”

As the others watched, horrified at what they had just seen and heard, Cade calmly turned and spit Duncan’s blood from his mouth.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Revenants.

Corpses reanimated through the use of dark magick, souls forced back into decomposing flesh and infused with a taste for living flesh. Abominations against the Lord.

After Cade’s revelation, the fact that the commandery was empty took on a deeper, more ominous meaning. The dead weren’t just missing, and Echo Team had to contend with the very real possibility that the bodies of their brethren had gotten up again under their own power. Being brought back in such a fashion would be terrible for anyone; it would be a particularly hellish experience for the devout Knights who had given their lives for the cause.

Duncan’s mind reeled.

Considering what they knew, none of them felt comfortable remaining at the site of the attack. The decision was made to spend the evening at the Folkenberg commandery, roughly an hour’s drive to the west.

Back in the truck, with Riley once more behind the wheel, Olsen did his best to bind Duncan’s wound while Cade got on the phone to let the others know they were on their way.

Turning to Olsen, Duncan asked, “Does this kind of thing happen a lot?”

“No, you’re the first subordinate he’s bitten.”

Duncan wasn’t amused. “That’s not what…”

Nick chuckled. “Relax, kid. I’m just trying to lighten the mood. Like I said before, the commander’s methods can sometimes be a little unorthodox, but he gets the job done. At least now we know what we’re up against.”

The sergeant pulled the bandage tight and the sharp stab of pain that accompanied the move caused Duncan’s retort to die stillborn in his throat.

*** ***

Their destination, a small commandery under the control of Knight Captain Noel Stanton, was situated in a heavily wooded and sparsely populated area of Folkenberg. Like many of the commanderies Cade had visited across the United States, this one had been established on the grounds of a large estate. It was separated from the surrounding properties by a large stone wall that encircled it.

The entrance lane ran parallel to that wall for some time before they came to the gate, giving Cade plenty of opportunity to scope out the cameras and security devices concealed along its length.

They were met at the gate by an armed guard wearing the insignia of a local security company, who questioned them about who they were there to see, then returned to his guard shack, apparently to ring the main desk to be certain they had an appointment.

Satisfied with the answer he received over the phone, he opened the gates and waved them through without leaving his shack a second time.

If it hadn’t been for the signet ring bearing the Templar cross on the guard’s right hand, Duncan never would have known he was a member of the Order. Hiding in plain sight was one of the Order’s greatest assets, and Duncan knew that the ruse would certainly fool the average passerby.

Riley drove through the open gates and down the road leading into the estate proper. The commandery was an older brick mansion with a slate roof and white columns dominating its front entrance. A young initiate was standing on the steps awaiting their arrival when they pulled to a stop at the foot of the steps.

“Knight Commander Williams?” the novice asked, as the team exited the vehicle and approached.

Cade nodded.

“I’m Novitiate Parkins. Captain Stanton asked me to take you to his study immediately upon arrival.”

“Very good.”

The team was escorted into a large room tastefully decorated in dark woods and fabrics. A heavy oak desk sat before a large bay window that looked out on marble statuary standing in the center of the well-lit grounds. An area rug surrounded by several armchairs was arranged in front of the fireplace on the opposite side of the room.

A short, stocky man in his midforties, with dark hair cut in a military fashion, stood behind the desk and came forward immediately as the other men entered the room, introducing himself as Knight Captain Stanton. He shook each man’s hand, only hesitating briefly when he came to Cade.

So my reputation precedes me,
Cade thought, as he noted the other man’s discomfort.

“Please, have a seat,” said the captain, indicating the chairs.

“Thank you, Captain, but that’s not necessary. We’ve been on alert for the last several days now and really just want to grab the chance to get some rest. A few spare rooms and access to the network is all that we require.”

The captain nodded. “Of course, Commander. I’ll have Parkins here get you situated. If there is anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Cade shook the captain’s hand once more and followed Parkins out of the office, his men at his heels.

Back out in the hallway, Cade dismissed the others just as the bells rang for Compline. Despite being tired, Riley, Olsen, and Duncan joined several of the locals for the evening Mass, all of them feeling the need to reconnect with their faith and purpose in light of what they had seen and heard that day. The sermon was about duty and honor in times of strife, appropriate for the circumstances, and Duncan felt the weight on his soul lift slightly as he settled into the familiar rhythms of the Latin responses. Several times during the service he turned his head to look back into the crowd gathered in the sanctuary, trying to locate Cade, but the commander was nowhere to be found.

After the ceremony, he raised the issue with Riley as they moved off down the hallway toward their assigned quarters.

“No, you didn’t miss him. He wasn’t there,” Riley replied.

“Oh.” Duncan wasn’t sure what to make of that, but what Riley said next was even more troubling.

“The Commander hasn’t attended Mass in quite some time.”

Duncan reached out and grasped the other man by the elbow, stopping him. “He doesn’t attend Mass? Why not?” A senior Templar officer not attending regular service was highly unusual.

Riley gazed at him silently for a moment, weighing his answer, then pulled free with a jerk of his arm. “He just doesn’t. Leave it at that,” Riley said over his shoulder, as he stepped away.

Duncan should have expected it, but the realization that most of the rumors about his new commanding officer might just be true left him almost breathless. He slumped against the nearest wall, his thoughts in turmoil. He’d only been with the unit a few days, and already he’d been forced to deal with sorcerers, revenants, and a commanding officer who’d seemingly turned his back on the Lord. It was almost too much to take.

Still, he had little choice. The Preceptor had agreed to his reassignment for a reason and he’d do his best to live up to his superior’s expectations.

Yet as he walked off to his quarters, he was unable to banish either his growing sense of discomfort or the feeling of Cade’s teeth clamped tight on the fleshy part of his arm.

*** ***

Later that night, Riley shook Cade awake.

“We’ve got trouble,” he said, his expression grim.

Cade nodded and ordered him to assemble the rest of Echo Team’s sergeants in a conference room for an immediate meeting.

When he arrived, Cade joined them at the table, and said simply, “Talk to me.”

As usual, Olsen did the briefing. “About thirty minutes ago we received a call from Father Joseph Burns, pastor of St. Margaret’s in Broward Township. Burns is one of our local contacts. He was working late in his office at the rear of the church when a noise out front caught his attention. Concerned about vandalism, he wandered into the sanctuary to find someone standing before the altar and staring in fascination at the cross above it.

“Father Burns called out to the intruder, asking him what he wanted. At the sound of the priest’s voice, the figure spun around and charged. At which point the good father got the fright of his life. The priest kept his wits about him and managed to outmaneuver the intruder, trapping him in the sacristy to the right of the altar. He took these with his digital camera,” said Olsen, passing a folder across the table to Cade.

Inside were a series of photographs, obviously printed out on a home computer. Even so, they told the tale quite eloquently.

Shot through a small window in the door leading to the sacristy, the photos were of a man who’d obviously been dead for several months. His hair had fallen out in clumps, exposing skin covered with a thin patina of mold. One eye stared at the camera; the other was nothing more than a gaping socket. He was pounding on the other side of the window glass with what was left of his right hand, the bones of the fourth and fifth fingers clearly visible. Small bits of flesh were left on the glass after every blow.

“We’ve had a few other scattered reports intercepted through the police bands. Mysterious shapes glimpsed roaming through the woods, children being frightened by a stranger looking in through the windows, that sort of thing. I’m willing to bet they were all caused by the same individual.”

After glancing at the photos, Cade passed them to the rest of his assembled men, letting them each take a good, long look. He stared off into space for several long moments while they did so, lost in thought, then said, “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

*** ***

Cade emerged from the manor house twenty minutes later to find a Blackhawk helicopter warming up on the front lawn. The vehicle’s exterior was painted in dark colors and had neither identification nor insignia. Riley stood by the open door, his superior’s Kevlar vest and communications rig in one hand.

Crossing the lawn, Cade ducked under the rotating blades and took the items from his sergeant. He slipped into the vest, pulled the straps tight, then climbed aboard, finding a seat next to Olsen. Riley wasted no time in following him inside. He flashed a hand signal to the pilot, and the chopper lifted off into the darkness of the evening sky before the sergeant had finished settling into a seat on the other side of the aircraft next to Duncan. Cade pulled on the communications rig and jacked into the panel above his head. Keying the mike, he asked, “How are we doing?”

Olsen had his laptop open, his fingers dancing across the keyboard as he monitored external traffic through the communications net, and didn’t look up from the screen as he replied. “We’re good. I’ve touched base with Father Burns. His guest is still locked up tight in the sacristy.”

Cade nodded his understanding and turned to look out the still-open door. The Blackhawk was moving quickly through the night, following the Ohio River as it made its way north. Clouds could be seen on the horizon, but for the moment the weather was fine, and visibility was good. At their current rate of speed, he estimated it would be about a ten minute journey to Broward Township.

They passed the short trip in silence. Like Cade, most of the men were thinking about a resurrected Knight trapped like a rat in a small room, his body literally falling apart around him. It was not a comforting image.

Leaving the river behind, the pilot cut across country at treetop level. It was only a moment or two before the white spire of a church steeple could be seen in the distance. The church was set at the edge of town on a large stretch of property surrounded by a thick grove of elms. It was far enough away from the rest of the community that they ran little risk of being seen, so Cade had the pilot set down momentarily on the back lawn. Cade and his men quickly disembarked, and the pilot took the chopper back up again to wait high overhead for their signal.

As the four Knights approached, the rear door of the rectory opened, silhouetting the man standing there, waiting for them.

“Father Burns?” Cade asked, extending his hand. “Commander Williams.”

“Thank God you’ve arrived, Commander. This way please.” The priest looked askance at the weapons the men carried, but he made no comment about their presence as he led them through the rectory and into the church proper.

“It’s been quiet in there for the last fifteen minutes,” Burns said, indicating the door of the sacristy with his hand.

Cade stepped up and peered inside.

The room was small; a set of floor-to-ceiling cabinets stood opposite a waist-high counter containing a sink, with wooden cupboard bolted to the wall above it.

Against the far wall crouched the revenant. It was holding a purple stole, obviously taken from the pile of vestments that littered the floor in front of the open cabinets. Intent on its prize, the creature didn’t appear to notice him.

Cade stepped away from the window and looked at the others. “Okay. I want standard entry procedure. Olsen, you’ve got the door. Riley, you’re with me. Duncan, I want you on overwatch. If it gets by us, it will be up to you to stop it.”

Cade removed his gun and handed it to Father Burns. “Hold this for me, will ya?”

The elderly priest accepted it uneasily. “Aren’t you going to need this?” he asked.

“No,” Cade replied, as he pulled two flash bangs off his belt. “We need to take this thing alive, if you can call it that.” He turned to Riley. “When Olsen opens the door, I’ll toss the flash bangs. I want you to follow with two more. Hopefully, they’ll be enough to bring the thing down. As soon as they go off, we rush in and secure it.”

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