The Heretic: Templar Chronicles Book 1 Read Online Free

sets off across the lawn, winding in and out between the stones, letting that feeling guide his passage until he sees a small plot set off from the rest by a white picket fence. In the strange twilight, the rails of the fence gleam with the wetness of freshly revealed bone. The coppery tang of blood floats on the night air.
    As he moves closer he can see that the earth on the other side of the fence has been freshly disturbed. A grave lies open, a gaping hole in the peaceful sea of green grass that surrounds it, filled with a darkness deeper than that of the night sky above. This intrusion of the landscape and of the sanctity of the place draws him closer still, pulling him in toward it the way a fly is coaxed into a spider’s web.
    He stops just short of the small fence and gazes down into the darkness of the grave.
    Unable to see clearly, he places one hand on the fence and leans forward, straining to get a better look.
    Something moves down there, a furtive motion.
    Beneath his hand the fence begins to twist and turn, tumbling him forward toward the darkness of that open grave, just as two eyes gleam hungrily from that inky murk…
    Cade awoke in the darkness of his bedroom, his heart pounding and his body slick with cold sweat. He lay still for a moment, gathering his breath, and reached out for the phone in the second before its shrill ring pierced the silence of the bedroom.
    “I’m on my way,” he said into the receiver, then hung up before the startled novice placing the call could explain the reason for the late-night summons.
    He does not need that information.
    The dream has already told him everything he needs to know.

CHAPTER THREE
    Just over an hour later there was a soft knock at the door of the Preceptor’s makeshift office.
    “Come,” said Michaels, without looking up from the report he was reviewing. A moment later the door opened to admit the Heretic.
    From his position behind and to the right of the Preceptor, Duncan could see Cade Williams was not a large man, but he was an imposing sight nonetheless. His face was all hard lines and angles, without even a hint of softness. This effect was heightened by the wide band of angry scar tissue that stretched from beneath the eye patch covering his right eye, down across his cheekbone and around behind his ear. He entered the room with a graceful economy of motion but with what also seemed to be an air of caution, as if he were gingerly moving through the world around him.
    Maybe he was, thought Duncan, as his gaze came to rest on Cade’s hands. The flesh-colored gloves were professionally made, and a casual glance would not have betrayed their presence, but Duncan had spent the last several years paying attention to even the tiniest of details in order to keep the Preceptor safe and he did not miss them. The sight forced Duncan to wonder anew at this man’s abilities.
    Seven years ago Williams had been a highly decorated officer of the Massachusetts State Police, serving on the prestigious Special Tactics and Operations team, first as a sniper and later as team commander. He’d been married to his beautiful wife only five months before disaster struck. A hostage situation had forced him into a confrontation with a supernatural entity that Cade had taken to calling the Adversary. His wife had died as a result, and Cade himself had been severely mauled. He’d lost the sight in his right eye, and the flesh on that side of his face had been so savagely disfigured that plastic surgery hadn’t even been considered.
    He had gone into seclusion for several months after the incident, avoiding the press and doing his best to come to grips with what had happened. Somehow he’d discovered the Order’s existence and successfully petitioned to become a member, claiming that his unique talents could be put to use on its behalf.
    Duncan knew it hadn’t taken long for Williams to rise through the ranks to his current position as Knight Commander.
    It was rumored