Jack Templar and the Lord of the Werewolves (Book #4 of the Templar Chronicles) by Jeff Gunhus Read Free Book Online

truth according to the person you were asking. It was a good reminder of how different experiences and points of view could create different forms of the truth . It was a powerful tool, but a dangerous one. I’d given both the truthsayer and the Jerusalem Stone I’d recovered to Aquinas for safekeeping, and now she was giving it back.
    “You might need this along the way,” she said.
    I took the truthsayer from her and paused. “Should I ask what you know about what really happened to my mother and father?” I asked.
    Aquinas didn’t betray any emotion. She stood silently, waiting for me to make my next move. I held up the truthsayer. “Do you know what happened to my mother?”
    Aquinas nodded. I looked down, and the surface of the truthsayer swirled like liquid mercury. Small dots floated across the surface, organizing into a single word, FACTUM . She was telling the truth. I felt my heart beat harder.
    “Tell me,” I said. It didn’t come out as a question, but as a command.
    Aquinas shook her head. “No. Not yet.”
    “Why not?” I pleaded. “Certainly I’ve earned the right to know.”
    Aquinas put a quivering hand on my arm. “You have at that, Jack,” she said. “But not now. Not yet.”
    “Why?” I demanded.
    “I will tell you, I promise. Just not yet,” she said. “It’s for your own protection.”
    I looked down at the truthsayer, and the surface danced again until the surface formed into a different word. FALSUM . She was lying. When I looked up at her, I knew she could tell from my expression the word I’d seen.
    “All right,” she said. “It’s to protect the rest of us. And that’s all I’m saying.”
    She walked away from me, leaving the truthsayer in my hand, the word FACTUM across its front.
    I pocketed the device and followed behind the old woman, trying to imagine what could possibly have happened to my mother that the truth could put the Black Guard at risk. It was another mystery layered onto my already confusing journey through this world of monsters and hunters. I wondered if I would ever figure things out. I wondered if I would ever really belong.
    We walked the rest of the way to the house in silence. The faint sounds of music floated to us on the evening breeze. Behind the building, we found dozens of young hunters gathered around the campfire. The night air wasn’t cool enough to need a fire. It was there for a more basic reason. The light pushed back the darkness, the flames giving off calming warmth and a pleasant smell that recalled better days.
    The music was a single girl playing a violin. I recognized Kelsey, the girl who had ridden Saladin. Her brown hair was out of the tight braid and hung loose over her shoulders. Her suntanned skin took on the glow from the fire, almost giving her the look of a gypsy.
    She played a slow mournful song, her eyes closed as if she were alone in the world. Her sister, Emmy, sat beside her, staring into the fire. Then she began to sing in a voice that was so clear and innocent, it caused tears to spring to my eyes. Not only was her singing beautiful, but it was laced with the same terrible sadness as the violin.
    Whatever events these sisters had endured together were too painful for words, so they put it into their music. The younger sister sang in a language I didn’t know, yet I knew exactly what she sang about –loss and sadness.
    I looked around the campfire and spotted Will, T-Rex, and Xavier sitting together watching the girls perform. Daniel was there too, but farther away, on the outskirts of the group. He seemed to be trying hard not to listen to the song, poking the ground with his knife.
    The music took a turn. Both the violin and the vocals became defiant, the sadness overwhelmed by bitterness and anger. Faster and faster the song went. The bow became a blur across the strings. I realized my hands were knotted in fists.
    Then in one final achingly pure note, the voice and violin combined perfectly, each