Jack Templar and the Lord of the Werewolves (Book #4 of the Templar Chronicles) by Jeff Gunhus Page B

“Since there’s a Creach lair around here, maybe we have to prove ourselves in battle?”
    I shuddered at the thought of having to face dragons again. Two of them had attacked the Monster Hunter Academy, and I’d gotten up close and personal with them before it was over.
    “Come on, let’s get closer,” I said.
    We made our way through the crowd of tourists toward the temple ruins. As we approached, the Templar Ring on my finger turned warm and began to quiver slightly. I clutched my hand in a fist and glanced around, expecting to see some kind of imminent attack.
    Nothing.
    “What’s wrong?” Will whispered, picking up on my anxiety.
    I shook my head. “I don’t know. I just feel like something big is nearby.”
    “I don’t see anything,” Will said.
    “Something wrong?” Daniel asked, doubling back from in front of us.
    “Jack senses something,” Will said.
    Daniel nodded. Given our history, that was enough for him to go on high alert without asking any more questions. “Do you have a direction?” he asked.
    I focused, feeling the ring turn even warmer in my hand. But I couldn’t lock in on anything. The presence seemed to exist everywhere at once. Its intention wasn’t clear either. It wasn’t good or evil. But not neutral either. It seemed both good and evil at the same time, able and willing to be both depending on… depending on what? My weird senses couldn’t answer that part of the puzzle.
    A cry came from our left. In our heightened state of readiness, all four of us spun toward the sound, hands on our weapons.
    A few of the German tourists were yelling, but one man in particular was raising a fuss. Barrel-chested and square-jawed, the big man looked like he belonged on a poster for the German Olympic wrestling team. He waved one hand in the air wildly to get someone’s attention while the other hand wrapped around a little girl’s wrist.
    I recognized her. It was the same girl we’d seen begging from the tourists when they first got off the bus on the village below. I didn’t need to understand German to guess that she’d gone a little farther than asking for money. My guess was that the big German had caught her trying to pick his pocket.
    “He’s calling for the police,” Daniel said, confirming my hunch. “Says the girl stole his wallet. Heads up, guys. This might just be a diversion from the real attack.”
    The way the girl struggled against the big man, trying desperately to free her arm from his massive hand, I didn’t think she’d staged it. Suddenly, the big German howled in pain as the girl kicked him hard in the shin. He flung her aside as if she’d bitten him.
    She was so light that she flew through the air, hit the ground, and rolled onto the rocks. But with the grace of a hunter, she sprang to her feet in one smooth motion and broke into a run. Right toward us.
    The big German, his face so red with anger that it was almost purple, got his wits about him and chased after her. He bellowed German words that would probably have made me blush if they were in English.
    I spotted four security guards closing in from either side, coordinating with their walkie-talkies.
    The little girl ran right past us without giving us even a look. She ducked under the ropes keeping the tourists from climbing directly on the ruins of the temple and made a beeline for the temple itself.
    The security guards and the German converged on the spot from different directions, surrounding her. She climbed the rocks and stood in the center of the circular temple. The guards yelled at her in Greek, waving her to come out. The German shouted the same way, injecting some broken English into the mix.
    “Come… girl… out…,” he shouted.
    The security guards ducked under the ropes and approached the girl in a tightening circle, their arms out as if cornering a wild beast. By the look in the young girl’s eyes, they pretty much were doing just that.
    I wondered what could have happened to the