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

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  WARNING

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  A Last Note

  From the Author

  About the Author

  JACK TEMPLAR

  and the

  LORD OF THE WEREWOLVES

  Book #4

  A NOVEL

  Jeff Gunhus

  Kindle Edition

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. And resemblance to actual persona, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2014 by Jeff Gunhus

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Seven Guns Press. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Cover design by Eric Gunhus

  Cover Art by Nicole Cardiff

  Edited by Sher A Hart

  Formatting by Rik Hall

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Gunhus, Jeff

  Jack Templar and the Lord of the Werewolves: a novel / Jeff Gunhus

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9899461-5-5

  ISBN-10: 0-9899461-5-0

  ALSO BY JEFF GUNHUS

  MG/YA FICTION

  Jack Templar Monster Hunter

  Jack Templar and the Monster Hunter Academy

  Jack Templar and the Lord of the Vampires

  Jack Templar and the Lord of the Werewolves

  ADULT FICTION

  Night Chill

  Night Terror

  Killer Within

  NON-FICTION

  Reaching Your Reluctant Reader

  Wake Up Call

  No Parachute Required

  Choose The Right Career

  The Little Book Of Secrets

  Praise for Jack Templar Monster Hunter

  The Templar Chronicles Book 1

  Selected as a 2012 Finalist for the Book of the Year Award. – Foreword Reviews

  Selected as a Parent’s Choice Foundation Recommended Read and as a Finalist for Next Generation Indie Book Awards

  “Gunhus brings young readers a monster-filled romp to read at their own risk. The pacing is quick but not rushed, and events seamlessly progress, complete with action, cliffhangers and surprise reveals. ” - Kirkus Reviews

  “The action starts right from the first chapter and doesn’t let up until the book ends. This is the first book in a series, and I look forward to reading the rest of them.” -The DMS

  “Jeff Gunhus has made a terrific fast paced fantasy. I even wanted to bolt my doors and lock my windows! Five stars for the best book of the year.” -Elizabeth A. Bolt

  “Move over Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, there’s a new kid in town - Jack Templar, and he will take you on a wonderful adventure of good vs evil, with friends and enemies at every turn.” -Penny Brien “

  Praise for Jack Templar and the Monster Hunter Academy

  The Templar Chronicles Book 2

  “Jeff Gunhus has crafted another winner in the sequel to Jack Templar: Monster Hunter…in another captivating story filled with plot twists and turns.” - Mother Daughter Book Reviews

  This book is spellbinding…Please hurry and finish the rest of the series. – Charlotte Edwards

  I would highly recommend these books to anyone who loves adventure and fantasy. Riordan fans will definitely love this series! It’s exactly what a middle grade fantasy should be. – N. Hewitt

  Holy cow, this book was amazing, just amazing! I don’t even know what else to say other than to fangirl all over the place…You have to read this book. Just ... read it. – K. Sozaeva

  The characters leap off the page and grab the reader and draw him or her into the always dangerous, sometimes deadly adventures. This is a series that demands to be read. – Michelle S. Willms

  I think anyone who loves an action packed children’s book should read this one. You won’t be disappointed.– Christina Condy

  Praise for Jack Templar and the Lord of the Vampires

  The Templar Chronicles Book 3

  Mr. Gunhus has once again created a story that his young readers will have trouble putting down until the last word is read and wanting to follow Jack’s next adventure in Book Four. – Christina Weigand

  This is the third book of the series, and I fear I must now declare myself addicted. I rapidly read this book and was depressed when I realized I now have to wait for the next book. - J. Rivera

  The adventures that Jack Templar goes through are awesome. This series is a great read for middle-grade children and young adults. – Dalene’s Book Review

  Continuing with an exciting story. Loved the twists and turns in this book. – Cheryl Carpinello

  Hands down the THE BEST book out there! My boys were begging to stay up later to find out what the next chapter would reveal. – Heidi Silvestri

  For my own little monsters:

  Jackson, William, Daniel, Caroline and Owen

  And for Nicole: who always smiles when she tells me to go write.

  My name is Jack Templar.

  Just before my fourteenth birthday, I discovered that I came from a long line of monster hunters. You know, vampires, werewolves, zombies, all kinds of evil creatures called Creach.

  Not only that, but if monsters around the world could choose one human to kill, it would be me. Why? I used to say I didn’t have a clue, but that’s not true. Not anymore.

  As the last Templar Knight, I’m on a quest to reunite the five mystical Jerusalem Stones so that I can defeat Ren Lucre, the Lord of the Creach who holds my father hostage and threatens to launch a war against the human world. I managed to get the first Jerusalem Stone from the Lord of the Vampires after a battle under the streets of Paris. One down, four to go.

  Only a few months ago, I was just a kid worrying about school. Now I’m a monster hunter with the fate of the world on my shoulders.

  It’s been quite a ride.

  WARNING

  If you’re reading this, there’s a good chance you’ve read my first three books. In that case, you’ve already ignored my previous warnings and decided to join the fight against the Creach. Thank you.

  But on the off chance you stumbled across this book at your friend’s house or it was given to you by someone who didn’t understand the implications of possessing this book, there are a few things you need to know.

  First, monsters are real. Vampires, werewolves, zombies, demons, you name it. In fact, they are more common than you could ever imagine. Second, this book is not make-believe. This is a truthful account of my l
ife as a monster hunter and the dangerous mysteries that often surround me. Third, reading this book makes you fair game for monsters.

  That last one is very important. If you read this book, you become both a hunter and the hunted. You’ll need to be ready to face the monsters in your area because they will come looking for you. Take some time before turning the page to make sure you’re up to the challenge. There’s no turning back.

  Whether you have been with me from the beginning or are new to the fight, be warned that my adventures are getting more serious. The forces of darkness are gathering and this book doesn’t pull any punches. But I owe it to you to tell you the truth. Even if it’s scary. Even if it’s sad.

  So turn the page if you dare. The adventure starts now.

  Jack Templar

  P.S. Go to www.JackTemplar.com for hunting advice and to see photos of some of the places I visit in this adventure. Use the password MONSTER to enter the secret Hunters Only area for extra treats. See you there.

  Prologue

  The stench hung heavy in the air. There was no other smell in the world quite like it. First came the stink of grease fires from the wall torches, the heavy black smoke that roiled through the air like a foul fog. Then a moldering, musty base layer came to the senses. It reeked of decay and seeping moisture that grew black mold on every surface. The mold clung on the rough-cut rocks lining the dungeon tunnels. It covered the thick iron bars holding the prisoners in place. It even grew on the tattered rags covering the miserable creatures in the cells and likely on their skin as well. That final smell overlay the symphony of stink.

  The Creach prisoners.

  Werewolves, harpies, blind mad-worms, blinderwursts, fangpiercers, even some demons held with the special pure iron chains required to keep them in place. Many of these creatures were pungent under the best circumstances, but locked in the deepest dungeon underground, sometimes for decades, they took on an odor so ripe, so awful, that visitors to the dungeon often had to hold their breath to enter. Even then, the smell would make their eyes sting and well with tears.

  Immediately after leaving the dungeon, visitors were allowed a bath or a shower in the castle. As they washed the stench from their bodies, they would feel an overwhelming sense of thanks that they were not a prisoner wallowing in the horrifying conditions they’d just witnessed.

  No one, human or Creach, wanted to be a prisoner in the dungeons of Ren Lucre.

  Far away, at the end of one of the long, twisting corridors, came the creak of a massive door opening. The prisoners stirred at the sound. Their reactions mirrored how long they had been in their cells.

  The newer arrivals looked up with expectation, still hopeful their punishment was going to be short and that someone was coming to tell them their nightmare was over.

  Those who had been there longer knew that hope was useless in this dark place. They simply cowered farther into whatever dark corner they could find in their cell, desperate not to be noticed by the Master.

  Then there were those who had been there the longest. They simply looked up with mild interest, knowing that nothing they did made any difference. Their spirits were broken. Worse, they knew this to be the dark truth, and they simply didn’t care.

  One single prisoner reacted in none of these ways. He simply stood, and the rags that had once been his clothes hung on his bony frame. Unbroken by years of starvation and torture, he still squared his shoulders in the direction of the sound and raised his chin, his eyes glistening in the torchlight with defiance. What he saw would have brought a normal man to his knees, but this man was no more normal than the monster approaching.

  Ren Lucre, the five hundred year old vampire, filled the hallway as he strode through it, his cloak billowing behind him as he rushed past the stinking cells. His pale, narrow face looked pinched and concerned. His blood-red lip pursed in a straight line, and his eyes glowered like embers in a fire that might at any time combust into new flame.

  He came to the thick set of bars that held the proud man, stopped, and stared him down.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Lord of the Creach,” the man said. Even though his voice was course and weak, he still managed an edge of bitter sarcasm. “You look like you’re having a bad day.” The man spat on the floor. “Good.”

  Ren Lucre shook his head and looked away, making a decision. “Do you know why I don’t kill you?” he finally asked.

  “I figured it was because you enjoyed my company,” the man replied.

  An ogre in the cell next to the man howled in amusement. Ren Lucre glared at him, a hand going to the sword at his waist. The ogre licked his lips expectantly as if seeing death as a welcome relief from the dungeon. But Ren Lucre turned away, not giving the creature any release from this world.

  The man pointed to the ogre with a thumb. “Ognard here gets me.”

  Ren Lucre smiled, but the hatred in the expression was clear. “Good, maybe you and Ognard should share a cell.”

  The man stopped smiling. “One of us would end up dead. It wouldn’t be me, but it wouldn’t be pretty.”

  Ren Lucre sneered. “It’s enough to see your infernal smirk gone. The reason I haven’t killed you is so I can make you suffer. And I think I’ve done a pretty good job of that, don’t you?”

  “I only suffer when you come down here and stink up the place. It takes weeks for your odor to clear out of here once you leave.” He looked around to the Creach in the cells around him. “We all talk about it behind your back, don’t we, guys?”

  The other Creach hissed and growled at the man, but they cast worried looks at Ren Lucre as well.

  The vampire simply smiled. “I’ve struggled to decide how much I should tell you about what’s happening in the world. Not sure if the news I have will give you hope or despair.”

  “Try me,” the man said.

  “How long do you think you’ve been in here?” Ren Lucre asked.

  “Hard to say, time flies when you’re having this much fun. I’d say about –”

  “Fourteen years,” Ren Lucre said. “Just over actually.”

  For the first time, a flash of concern passed over the man’s face. “Impossible,” he whispered.

  “I’m afraid not,” Ren Lucre said. “As you said, time flies.”

  “Fourteen years,” the man mumbled, making the connection. He looked up suddenly, not saying the name filling him with dread.

  Ren Lucre smiled, showing his long canines.

  “Oh yes, Jack. I went to visit him myself on his fourteenth birthday.” He paused, enjoying the fear on the man’s face. “But he escaped.”

  The man let out a sigh of relief. “So… he’s still alive?”

  Ren Lucre nodded. “Yes, the little fool sought out and found my daughter, the Lord of the Vampires. Somehow convinced her to give him one of the Jerusalem Stones from what my spies tell me. Father-to-father, I can share with you that this little indiscretion really disappointed me.”

  “Why does Jack want the Jerusalem Stone?” the man asked as much to himself as to Ren Lucre.

  “My guess is that he’s going after the others next to reunite the Stones like the legends say.”

  “No,” the man said, slumping to the ground on his knees, head hung low. “Oh, Jack, no.”

  “Ahhh…” Ren Lucre said, smiling broadly. “That’s it. That’s the moment I wanted to see.” He leaned forward and poked a finger in the man’s direction. “That very second when you fully understood that you and your kind will be completely defeated… and that your own son will be the one who brings it upon you.” He closed his eyes as if savoring the taste of his favorite meal. “Thank you for that. That’s all I needed. Thank you.”

  Ren Lucre spun around and stomped back the way he had come, leaving the man kneeling on the floor.

  John Templar shook his head and, for the first time in his life, hoped desperately for his son to fail.

  Chapter 1

  It seemed impossible to digest that Ren Lucre, the Lord of t
he Creach, the one raising an army to destroy the world, the monster who most wanted me dead and who kept my father prisoner in his dungeon, was actually my grandfather.

  But I knew my friends deserved the truth, so on the first day on the boat leaving Paris, I told them everything. They were shocked, of course, and didn’t know what to say.

  Will, my scrappy friend from Sunnyvale, put an arm around me. He’d stuck by my side during my whole crazy adventure into the world of Creach, monster hunters, and ancient prophecies. “Wow,” he said. “And I thought my family was messed up.”

  It was the perfect comment. Five out of six of us laughed, including T-Rex, my other friend from middle school, along with Xavier and Daniel, who I’d met at the Monster Hunter Academy. Then we spoke openly about what my monster relatives meant to our mission – stopping Ren Lucre from destroying human civilization – and how each of us felt about it. Not that it solved anything, but it did make sure we all had the same information. Everyone felt better afterward, everyone except the sixth member of our party who stood silently staring out into the night. It was an unspoken understanding that the best way to handle that situation was to just give it time and leave it alone. She would come around eventually. We hoped.

  But that was three days ago and, with night closed in around us, the stress of our situation made the companionship of that moment seem far away.

  I turned my back on my friends and stared up at the moonless night sky. I felt the gentle movement on the river as it carried our boat west, away from Paris. The bank slid by silently on my right, just a dark shadow of trees.