Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  by

  Shayne Silvers

  Dedication

  Dedicated to the most stunning creature I have ever encountered... Olesya, my wife. Not to mention my bearded little manling, Wyatt, and the tiny princess I get to meet in a few months, Mila. To the whole crew of godlings at Chateau Defiance - yes, my home has an entirely disproportionate nickname - this one's for you…

  Chapter 1

  T he gnarled oak desk quivered as a subsonic blast shook the entire room. I flinched involuntarily, my drink tinkling lightly between my long fingertips as the lights flickered. I blinked eyelids that seemed to weigh a ton. What the hell was that? Had I been asleep? I couldn’t remember the last few moments. Perhaps I had been drinking more than I thought. Indie must have already abandoned me for bed because she wasn’t beside me. And where was Dean? Or Mallory for that matter? Surely they had heard the sound. Felt the sound. The hair on my arms was sticking straight up in response to my sudden adrenaline spike.

  Then I heard the scream. Like someone was being skinned alive.

  I bolted from the leather chair in my father’s old office — now my office — at Chateau Falco. Another distant blast shook the foundation of the house as I darted out the door and onto the landing that overlooked the first floor. Before I could move any further, a fiery comet suddenly screamed through the second floor stained glass window, barely missing my skull before it crashed through the banister beside me and into an adjacent room. The furniture inside instantly caught fire with a hungry whoomp. Dust and debris filled the air as I looked up to see the remnants of the window crash to the marble floor, shattering into a billion pieces that looked like a detonation of Fruity Pebbles. The cloying stench of smoke instantly filled my ancestral home as it began to burn.

  Fast.

  More screams and shouts raged through the night amidst a barrage of gunfire and explosions as I crouched, trying to ascertain where the sounds originated. After all, it was a huge fucking house. Seventeen thousand square feet was a lot of space to search. The single scream I had first heard didn’t give me any time to check on Indie, Dean, or Mallory. Someone was dying, right now, his or her scream full of tortured anguish. My home was under assault, by what sounded to be the combined efforts of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

  Unforgiveable.

  I briefly entertained what I would do to the prick that dared attack my ancestral home. Then I was running, formulating plans and discarding them just as fast, drawing the magical energy that constantly filled the air around me into a protective cloak. The energy that most people didn’t believe existed.

  But I was a wizard. Special. A Freak, as some called us.

  I could see magical energy. Feel it. Taste it. Hold it.

  And use it…

  To dish out all sorts of hell when I felt so inclined.

  And oh, did I feel so inclined right about now.

  As I raced past empty room after empty room, aged paintings seemed to grimace in distaste at my lack of protection… as if I was the ultimate embodiment of failure for a once powerful family. I grunted, shrugging off the pain of those looks. It was my imagination. They weren’t really disappointed in me. They weren’t even real. After all, I had instantly reacted to the attack, right? Or were you dozing through obvious signs of intrusion, awoken only by the sound of their victory in kidnapping one of your friends…

  My Freudian Id is not a pleasant person. I ignored the smug son of a bitch.

  I heard the scream again, and determined that it was coming from outside… along with the incessant gunfire. What the hell was going on out there? I sprinted down more hallways, zigzagging back and forth in an effort to get outside faster. Who was screaming? The voice was either in so much pain or so much rage that I couldn’t even determine if it was male or female, let alone human.

  I finally reached the front entryway, grabbed the massive handle to the front door, and heaved hard enough to tear it from the frame as a surge of magic fueled my strength. I tossed it into the foyer behind me and launched myself into a scene straight from hell. The icy wind struck my face like a finely woven blanket of cold steel, sobering me instantly. I practically shit myself with my mouth wide open.

  The night was chaos incarnate.

  Dragons the size of utility vans stormed the skies, blasting fireballs at my home from every direction. The ancestral home of the Temples was on fire, and the centuries old construction wasn’t faring well. The porte-cochere above me leaned drunkenly, one of the supports abruptly cracking in half. I immediately dove to safety before the roof collapsed, nearly dying before I even had time to fully comprehend the situation. I rolled onto the balls of my feet, scanning the darkness amidst the dust, explosions, shouting, and dying. The fountain in the center of the drive was now a pile of useless rubble, and bodies decorated the once elegantly stained concrete. But now it was stained an altogether different color.

  The color of fresh blood.

  A dozen of my security guards lay in smoking… pieces throughout the manicured lawn — bodies still steaming to my magically enhanced vision. Energy quested hungrily through the air, the waves of power coursing like gossamer threads of colored smoke. Power was everywhere… I grinned darkly. I could use that to my advantage. I saw a dragon or two also littering the lawn, betraying the fact that my security hadn’t been caught entirely off-guard, even if their Master had been dozing in his office over a glass of whisky. I shook the guilt from my head. Despite the truth of it, I didn’t have time to feel sorrow. My guards knew the risks in defending my home.

  Right? Had I even expected an attack of this magnitude?

  I shivered as the guilt of their deaths threatened to overpower me. I shoved it down harder. Later. Instead, I sprinted towards a small pocket of humans battling each other near the horse stable turned car garage a hundred feet away. I didn’t know friend from foe, but I was heartened to discover that at least some of my men had survived. Reality seemed to abruptly shift, my vision rippling for a second like I had seen a mirage in the desert. I shook my head, frantically searching for the attacker that was messing with my perception.

  But there was no one near me, and the group of humans was too busy fighting each other to bother with little old me and no dragons were close enough to sneak up on me.

  After a few tense seconds, I took off towards the fighting again, dodging a small, jeweled box lying discarded in the grass. Thievery? A horde of dragons seemed like overkill for a robbery. I growled to myself. I would figure out the reason for the attack later. Now was time for action. I instinctively made a choice, and launched a crested wave of ice at the most unsavory looking group of men. Some collapsed under the onslaught while others remained upright — now frozen solid — but all as dead as a doornail. The remaining faces that turned to me hissed with a sneer of triumph.

  Shit. Wrong group.

  The survivors launched themselves at me with a unified roar of bloodlust, casting battle magic at my face like I had just slapped their grandmother at a holiday dinner party.

  Dragons and Wizards?

  I managed to dodge the majority of the numerous elemental attacks, feeling only a single blast of fire sear my forearm, but I ignored that pain. I shattered an arm at the elbow as I came within physical reach, too close for all but the most skilled wizard to use his birthright. It was my only chance against so many foes. I quickly realized I needed backup. A smile tugged at my weathered cheeks.

  I bellowed out a single name into the darkness, never ceasing the lethal swings of my arms as they both physically and magically pounded my enemies. A deafening peal of thunder shook the heavens, followed immediately by a crackling bolt of bla
ck lightning, which spliced an unlucky dragon neatly in half, causing reptilian blood to rain down upon me. In it’s wake, a lamenting neighing sound filled the air with a very noticeable physical vibration.

  Grimm — a seemingly Demonic black-and-red-feathered unicorn the size of a Clydesdale — entered the fray. The single pearlescent, gnarled, and thorny horn protruding from his skull instantly gored one of my attackers through the heart. I might have hesitated for a second as I saw the unicorn catch a quick swipe of blood with a hungry tongue. I might have shuddered with unease, but I was glad the Minotaur had introduced me to him. He had helped me battle dragons once before… to their detriment. I hoped we would do it again tonight. Flaming, orange eyes met mine in a brief, appreciative greeting before we both focused back to our enemies. I called out familiar whips of fire and ice, utilizing them like Indiana Jones on crystal meth to eliminate the crowd of wizards attacking me. I spun in circles of crackling volcanic and arctic fury, lashing a leg here and a face there, feeding off their dying screams as I lost myself in the mayhem. What could have been an hour later, I realized that all were dead. Grimm was staring at me with wide, concerned eyes. I was covered in gore, blood, and ash. And I realized I was grinning maniacally.

  Before I could prove to the unicorn that I hadn’t lost my mind, a familiar cry split the night. “NATE!” The agonized scream shattered my mind into a million fragments of torment.

  My breathing came in ragged grunts as I slowly turned, recognizing the voice.

  The dragons had Indie. My girlfriend. The love of my life.

  My Kryptonite. My Achilles Heel.

  I spotted her standing atop the garage, a giant golden dragon gripping her in his talons.

  Alaric Slate, the leader of the dragon nation.

  My mind went fuzzy for a moment, my vision again rippling like a desert mirage. But… wasn’t he dead? No. He couldn’t be dead. He was right in front of me. Holding the woman of my dreams in his razor-sharp golden claws. A swarm of dragons I hadn’t noticed until now unfurled just above our heads, simultaneously striking Grimm from behind. The mythical creature was obliterated in a millisecond, shredded into organic matter like he had fallen into a pool of piranhas. I screamed with vengeance at the death of such a magnificent beast — my friend — and cast my power at the earth around me in a fifty-foot radius. The dirt and rock exploded skyward, dropping the dragons into a ten-foot deep hole. A second later, I slammed the earth back over them like a heavy quilt, burying them alive. Tucking the monsters in for bedtime.

  Permanently.

  An amused chuckle filled the night air. I could hear Indie struggling, but I knew it was futile. I turned slowly to face Alaric, my vision throbbing with rage. He stood like a vengeful god — half shifted into his dragon form — a single golden talon pressing into Indie’s soft skin like a hot knife resting on a plate of butter. “Hand me the box, Temple,” he growled greedily.

  I… blinked.

  I honestly had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. If I did, I would have given it to him. Hell, I would have given him anything to save Indie. Even my own life.

  Indie screamed. “Don’t do it, Nate!”

  He silenced her by shoving his talon straight through her gut, causing her to grunt in utter shock, and then agony. I realized that I was suddenly closer, having instinctively raced towards him with murderous intent. He held up a claw in warning and I froze with one foot still in the air. His other talon was still embedded inside my girlfriend’s stomach. I was stunned, in shock, unable to think straight, but I slowly lowered my foot to the cold earth. How had it escalated so quickly? He had barely warned me. I glanced down at my feet, trying to control my rapid breathing while frantically assessing the situation for a way — any way — to save Indie’s life. Her wound was fatal, not superficial. Alaric was a hunter. He knew my plight. He knew my skills. He had effectively demanded my obedience. He knew I would do anything to save Indie. Give up anything.

  “Please!” I begged. “Take whatever you want, just release her!”

  He nodded. “Of course. The box. Bring it here. Now. She doesn’t have long without medical attention.” Several new dragons were suddenly pumping their vast wings above me, hovering hungrily as an added threat. I followed his gaze and glanced to my side, only to see the same box from earlier sitting in the bloody, frosted grass. Wait… that can’t be right. I saw that near the fountain…

  In a confused daze, I reached down, my fingers numb, discarding the single rational thought.

  “Easy, Temple. No surprises. Bring it here.” I hesitated, not with any rebellious intent, but with simple confusion about how the box could have appeared beside me when I had seen it a dozen feet away only minutes ago. Alaric shook his head with a sad smile, abruptly twisting his talon inside Indie with a violent, final jerk.

  “Nate…” She whispered between tortured gasps.

  My senses instantly shut down. I was numb with disbelief and impotent fury. My body began to quiver, rattling the forgotten jeweled box that I apparently still held in my now numb hands. The lid began to pry loose from the box. I looked down curiously. Yes, do it. Do it now… a strange voice cooed in my ear. I listened to it, not even caring about its origin, and began to open the box, knowing that Indie was already dead. A part of me was now dead too. Only ashes remained of my heart. The world could burn, and thank me for it.

  I no longer cared.

  “No!” Alaric’s voice boomed as he tore his claw entirely through the love of my life, effectively slicing her in half. I felt the mass of dragons dive for me as one cohesive unit, a pack of claw and fang. As if in slow motion, I realized that my death would be a painful one, and I also realized that I was fresh out of fucks to give. I deserved it. I had inadvertently allowed this to happen. Allowed them to kill the woman I loved.

  So I opened the box.

  A wail of despair from the very pits of hell filled the night before my vision turned an amber tinted urine color, tunneling out to a single point. Indie.

  The dragons’ claws tore into me, trying to prevent me from opening the box. But they were too late. The world ended in a climactic symphony of pain and sound as I embraced death.

  I became death.

  Then nothingness.

  Chapter 2

  I jolted awake, shattering a glass of liquor that was clutched in my fist.

  The other patrons of the bar sprang back from their stools with a shout. The man beside me was the only one to remain in his seat, casually raising his drink to his lips. I was panting heavily as if I had just finished a marathon. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, my eyes darting back and forth, trying to make sense of my new surroundings, desperately searching for Indie and the dragons. But I wasn’t at Chateau Falco.

  I was in a seedy bar.

  What the hell?

  Then it hit me. It had been another of the night terrors — now turned day terrors — that had plagued me since the aftermath of the dragon invasion a few months ago. They were happening more often now. Escalating in their brutality. But I was getting used to them.

  Kind of…

  I began my usual mental process of rationally stating the facts in order to calm my racing heart. The dragons are no longer a threat. Indie is safe. I’m not at Chateau Falco… After a few repetitions and deep breaths, I began to calm down, and reality began to emerge from the depths of my fractured mind. I glanced at my watch and scowled. I’m in a seedy bar waiting for an unpunctual appointment. The man who called me with information on my parents’ murder. I had dozed off. Again. By sluggish increments, my breathing returned to normal.

  I had lost track of the numerous variations of my terrors, but the mysterious box was always center-stage, and the vision only ended when I opened it. But while in the dream, I never at first recognized the box. Not until I opened it. Then nothing but pain.

  I waved at the bartender. “I’ll sport a round for the bar. Sorry, guys,” I muttered. The bartender eyed me warily, no doubt wondering wh
at would happen if he told me to leave. After all, I was the infamous ‘wizard’ and local billionaire, Master Nate Temple — the Archangel — as some now referred to me. Or as I liked to imagine myself, the Notorious N.A.T.

  Biggie Smalls had nothing on me.

  “I’m fine. Really. Let me make it up to everyone. Get me another one while you’re at it.” I muttered, plucking a few pieces of glass out of my now bleeding palm. I pressed a napkin in my fist to staunch the blood flow. After a few moments, the bartender finally conceded. Several of the men shook their heads and decided to drink elsewhere. I couldn’t blame them. The calm man next to me still hadn’t moved.

  The bartender placed a new glass of cheap, gasoline-spiked whisky onto the warped, sticky oak counter. I scanned the room with a frown of both anger and disgust. It had been many years since I had been in a Kill — a bar where violence was commonplace, even encouraged, and the hygiene equally dangerous — and was eager to pay my tab and get the hell out. After I got the supposed information about my parents’ murder from the cryptic caller who had asked me to meet him here. If only that fucking appointment wasn’t late I could be home already.

  I sighed. No use. I was already here. Might as well wait a bit longer. My notoriety was apparent, judging from the hateful glares cast my way from various patrons of the bar. Which might say something about me. After all, a Kill was where only the most nefarious of supernaturals — or Freaks — hung out. My reputation had really jumped after the Solar Eclipse Expo a few months back, when a harem of were-dragons had decided St. Louis was the ideal place to host a ritual spell that would ignite the rebirth of the ultimate god of all dragons, as well as being a convenient locale to announce to the world that magic was in fact very real.

  I hadn’t agreed.

  And they hadn’t survived.

  Now, even the locals were apparently terrified of me. And when I say locals, I’m of course referring to the magical locals. My people. Where I arrived, death and destruction was now expected to follow. That dragon event was what led me here tonight to Achilles Heel — this supernatural Kill — waiting on my unpunctual appointment.