Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  He shook his head as if to clear it. “Yeah. Just didn’t see it coming. How far can you do it? Just in close quarters like you did here?” He asked, curious.

  “No. I teleported from Temple Industries to the Bar after my talk with the Academy last night. But that took considerably more power than what I just did.” I said more to myself, realizing that it had barely cost me any of my dwindling magic to clock Gunnar.

  “Wow. Well, consider myself all apologized. Just giving you a hard time. I don’t think you pulled that punch at all, did you? Rage issues much?” He asked with a grin. Werewolves could take quite a bit of pain and keep on ticking. Anyone else would have been out cold from my punch. Gunnar was a tough son of a bitch to be sure, and I was glad to have him on my side.

  I ignored the comment as he began to throw on a pair of slacks and a tee from the dresser. I kept clothes in his size throughout the house for events just such as this when he needed to replace a destroyed wardrobe. “By the way. Why did you send Tory into the bar last night instead of coming in yourself?”

  “It was a powder keg in there, Nate. I can’t believe you could stand it, what with how much loose energy was dancing around in there. I could even sense it from outside. I thought things like that messed with wizards.”

  “It does. I’ve just been so tired lately that I must not have noticed it. Or cared if I did. I’m kind of off my game. I’ve been somewhat… reckless lately.” I admitted.

  Gunnar grunted. “That’s why I sent Tory in there. My presence would have just instigated a territorial fight from the wolves. Also, Tory isn’t necessarily an enemy of any of the creatures in the bar. She is just a woman with extraordinary power. A supernatural Switzerland to the creatures inside the Kill.” At least that had worked in our favor, I thought to myself. “Which leads me to wonder why you were in a Kill in the first place. You. Stupid. Bastard.” He enunciated with tightly bottled frustration.

  “Easy, swear-wolf. Virgin ears here.”

  Gunnar merely stared harder, if that was possible. “Looking for answers again.” I finally answered, plucking my phone up from the carpet. The screen featured a spider web of cracks, eliciting a grumble of displeasure from my throat as I held it up to Gunnar, hoping to change the topic.

  He shrugged. “You’re good for it.”

  I pressed a button and saw that I could more or less still make out important details. I tossed it in my pocket as Gunnar continued. “Now, back to the important stuff. I thought you gave up searching for information after you were booted from several bars. For life.”

  “Nah. Can’t sleep, so I hunt.”

  There was a long silence. “You’re still having the nightmares?” I nodded briefly in answer. “Well? Did you discover anything helpful?”

  I hesitated. Did I want to bring him into this? Angels were a league of their own. I knew I could trust my friends, but I didn’t want them in over their heads. I had no choice, but they did. “Nah.” I lied. Kind of. “But I have heard a lot of stories about my parents lately. Apparently, a considerable number of people consider them scoundrels. Not as many as praise them, but still… enough to get me thinking.”

  “What do you mean? Why would they say anything bad about your parents? They were saints.” Gunnar growled. True. They had helped Gunnar, and many, many others, with various magical maladies. Gunnar was no longer a slave to the cycles of the moon thanks to them. They had given him a rune tattoo that allowed him to shift into a werewolf at will. Most other werewolves couldn’t do such a thing. Unless they were super powerful or super old. Regardless of shifting at will or not, almost all werewolves had to shift during the full moon. But Gunnar didn’t. All because my parents knew of an odd rune that allowed him to master his inner wolf .

  Now that I thought about it, how the hell had they known how to do such a thing? If it were common knowledge to wizards, I would have heard of it at least a few times. Wizards would have sold that to trusted werewolves for a high price. Or maybe in exchange for an alliance. But I had never heard of a wizard doing a spell like that for a werewolf. Odd. Where had they learned it? And that wasn’t the only uniquely magical cure my parents had given back to the community. In fact, it was one of many magical cures they had given out. Almost as if they had access to knowledge most wizards didn’t. A shiver ran down my spine as the obvious answer came to me. The Pandora Protocol.

  “They allegedly stole some things a time or two, always from old families. Random things that don’t make much sense to me. I’ve heard these items described as heirlooms, paintings, and even ancient knick-knacks with no known nature or origin. Every story is different. But then other people denied those same accusations, admitting the items had been fairly purchased. Regardless, these stories are a decade old. Nothing useful to me now. Still, it’s an odd thing to hear. I think these informants all assumed that if they told me something juicy I could owe them a favor. So I discouraged that line of thought, which got me kicked out of the other bars. Everyone’s just scared after Alaric’s speech at the Eclipse Expo about outing magical creatures. They fear that if I give in, like Alaric told everyone I would, they would all be outed as freaks too. The world is crazy lately.”

  It was almost as if the deeper I dug, the more I realized that I hadn’t known my parents at all. They were public tech-tycoons during the day, devoted parents at night, full time wizards with secret agendas at their own company, and now part-time thieves? But why? Had they amassed an armory of random weapons and artifacts in their Pandora Protocol? And what was the Titan warning on the video feed I had seen?

  I could sense Gunnar still staring at me with concern. It ticked me off. I didn’t ask my friends to look after me. I was fine. “Anyway. Enough psychoanalysis. How are you?”

  “Great. Terrified of this whole proposal situation though.” I smiled, but he changed topics back to me. “It’s probably a good time to get out of town, Nate. Mardi Gras is nuts in St. Louis. Maybe a vacation is what you need too.” I know what he really wanted was for me to stop digging into the darkness that was plaguing me lately. Maybe he was right. It would have been nice to get away, as I didn’t want to get mixed up in Angel business. Or Demon business. But the Academy had put a stop to that with their curse.

  I was being forced into a lonely stay-cation.

  Gunnar continued. “Our new gig as black ops wizards — or supernaturals — could get dicey, so I’m taking a vacation while I can.” He and Ashley weren’t wizards, but since the world at large considered any freak to be a wizard, our team’s title had worked for me.

  “I’m happy for you two.” I was doubly glad I hadn’t mentioned the Angel in the bar, or the Brimstone stench permeating both my company and I. If I told them what had happened in the bar, they would no doubt cancel their plans. They were the best of friends. I couldn’t do that to them. I could handle it on my own. That reminded me.

  “You have time to drop me off at Temple Industries before you leave, right? Dean is taking Indie to the airport, and then he’s hopping on his own flight out of St. Louis. He hasn’t left the Chateau in a while, so I gave him some time off. Mallory also left to get some sun and sand, so I don’t have a ride. Plus, my headache will probably impair my vehicular control. I’d hate to start off the day with an accident.”

  “Yeah. Lately, with your temper and lack of sleep, an accident could easily turn into vehicular manslaughter. You could always take your new horse.” He added with a scowl of disapproval.

  I blushed. “My horse?” I asked innocently.

  “Yes. Xavier, if I remember correctly.” He was tapping his foot. “That’s a federal crime, you know. I don’t even want to ask how it happened. Plausible deniability.” He folded his arms.

  I threw up my hands. “I didn’t have a choice. I’ll say this though. My actions saved two lives. So I’ll take the consequences any day. But I’ll have Dean return him as soon as possible.”

  Gunnar grunted for good measure. “Fine. I’m already packed and Ashley is at
the company wrapping up a few loose ends. Workaholic. This will actually save me time. We can leave for the airport from there.”

  “Good. I have one more pit stop to make on the way.”

  He studied me skeptically. “Okay… where?” He answered cautiously.

  “The church on the way to Temple Industries has a fountain outside, right?” Gunnar blinked before nodding slowly. “Good. Take me there. I fancy a dip. Care to partake in the mornings debauchery?”

  He cocked his head. “Nate. You do know its seventeen degrees outside, right? I think I’ll take a rain check.”

  “Seventeen…” That was the exact amount of time Peter had been inside the Armory. “Of course it is,” I mumbled to myself. “I’ll be quick,” I added hastily before he could question my comment.

  Gunnar shook his head. “It’s your funeral.”

  I smiled, preparing myself for the chill. “Not my funeral today, Gunnie.”

  This was one thing on my to do list I could cross off… “How’s the rest of the gang?” I asked idly, finishing up my pushup routine as he dressed.

  “Raego is leaving for Europe to strengthen his rule. Tory and Misha are going with him to help, or maybe just so Misha can show Tory her homeland. It’s cute. You should see Tory wrestle with Misha’s… dragonlings.” We didn’t know what else to call them. “Disturbing, but cute.” He smiled. “I can’t blame them.” His gaze grew thoughtful. “With us all out of your hair maybe you will get time to clear your head a bit. Get some real sleep.” He smiled. “Or just get roaring drunk in a dangerous bar. I think they’re both the same to you.”

  I wrapped up my workout, feeling marginally better, grunting agreement with his comments. As I got dressed for the day, I found myself hoping that I wouldn’t be attacked by one of my most recent enemies before lunch.

  Chapter 12

  Y ou look like a raccoon.” Greta smiled smugly, pointing at my rapidly forming black eyes. Then her eyes roamed with distaste down to the puddle at my feet, and continued back along the trail of wet boot prints I had left from the entrance. “A drowned raccoon. Or a slug.”

  I very carefully stifled my anger, not rising to the bait. “Don’t change the subject, Greta. For the last time, I find it highly doubtful that this found it’s way to my office via regular mail. This is junk mail.”

  “Well, if you consider your eternal soul to be junk, then I’m sure you must be correct.” She answered drily. Her eyes grew softer, motherly. “Just read it. You might learn a thing or two.” With infinite tolerance, I pocketed the religious tract and didn’t crumple it up to throw in her face. She meant well. Really. I just didn’t take it well when people told me in a roundabout way that I wasn’t a good person. The title read Jesus and You, Your Only True Friend. Gunnar was very wisely keeping a straight face.

  We walked past Greta’s desk and into my office. I instantly froze as my eyes settled on the room. A giant cross was nailed to the wall behind my desk, at least six feet tall and extravagantly detailed. On my desk sat a fresh cup of coffee inside a mug I had never seen before. A depiction of Christ adorned the coffee mug handle. “Greta?” I called out warningly.

  She shuffled into the room on arthritic hips with a curious look on her face, not appearing to see anything amiss. “Yes, Master Temple?”

  “It seems someone took the liberty to find me the actual cross that Jesus was crucified on, and to hang it on my wall. And I seem to have a new coffee mug.”

  “Oh, goodness. I thought perhaps you had purchased the mug after reading the various pamphlets you had been given. I don’t know how the Cross got up there, but perhaps reflecting on his sacrifice might ease your stress. Touching Jesus daily might help also.” She offered, pointing at my mug.

  I stared at her in disbelief. “I’m sure palming his crotch would be a religious experience for some, but to me it’s merely distasteful.”

  She prickled up like a cat sprayed with water. “Well, if I were in your shoes, I would consider the fact that someone must care for you very deeply, and I would cherish these gifts forever, regardless of your lack of faith. Someone obviously holds a great deal of concern for your soul, despite your mockery of their belief.” Her face was red, ready for me to command that the no-doubt expensive artifact be torn down and tossed in the trash. Religion was everything to her and it seemed her sole purpose in life was to ‘Save’ all the lost souls around her. Namely, me. It was sweet… and annoying. Plus, I was sure she had expensed the extravagant purchase to Temple Industries, meaning I had paid for it myself.

  I wanted to lash out on the old woman, but knew it would do no good. I sighed. She was right. It was done with the best of intentions. “That will be all, Greta.” I answered in defeat. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Didn’t you mention a charity event you were planning to attend after work? Why don’t you go there early and help them set up? You deserve it.” I said with a forced smile on my face.

  Her beady eyes assessed me with distrust for a few seconds before finally smiling in victory and nodding. She very wisely didn’t press her luck and instead turned to grab her purse and leave for the day. She called over a shoulder. “One of the interns found a broom closet he swears was not there last week. I set him straight, but you should look into it. He said it had an odd symbol carved above the door. Interns should be seen and not heard,” she grumbled more to herself. My shoulders stiffened slightly, but she didn’t notice.

  “I’ll check it out. Have a great rest of the day.” She grunted back, not looking at me. Then she was off. As soon as she was out of sight I almost instinctively used magic to tear the cross down from the wall before I thought better of it. Instead, I called out to one of the minions in a nearby cubicle. “You.” I pointed. It was the same man that I had terrified a few months ago when I had first met Greta. The kid was as unconfident as I had ever seen. I needed to help him grow a backbone, but working for someone like Greta seemed to make that impossible. “Take down this monstrosity immediately. Then place it behind Greta’s desk.”

  The kid stared at me dumbfounded before stuttering an answer. “Um… you’re my boss, but she will literally kill me if I step foot into her Jesus-Zone. Then she will kill me again when she sees that I put the cross she gave you behind her chair. It’s bigger than she is.” He added nervously.

  “Does she really call her workspace the Jesus-Zone?” I asked in disbelief. Surely he was exaggerating. But he nodded. “Tell her that you caught me trying to remove it and before I could throw it away you decided to put it in the only safe place on the floor — the Jesus-Zone.” I winked at him. “This is a lesson in politics. Finding a way to work with conflicting orders to your best advantage. It’s very useful information to know.” The kid shivered, doubting his future as soon as I was not there to protect him from the saintly secretary.

  “Gunnar, let’s go find Ashley.” He nodded, chuckling under his breath as we headed to her office. “Can it. It’s really not that funny. It’s not like I’m a horrible person or anything. Where does she get off passively telling me that I’m such a wreck that I need an intervention?”

  “It’s very… touching.” He answered, his laughter fading. Great, he was siding with her also. This was ridiculous. Why was everything going against me lately? I didn’t need to worry about religion when I had literal Angels scouting my trail. I was probably closer to heavenly scrutiny then Greta would ever be… I pondered that for a few steps. Maybe she had a point.

  Nah. I was probably fine.

  I was here to study the Armory if I could find a way inside. That was all. Then I could be on my way. Wherever that was. I still shivered a bit from the dip I had taken in the fountain on the way here, but it gave me peace of mind to know that perhaps one problem was now gone. However, my damp clothes didn’t feel very pleasant at the moment.

  I began pondering the Armory as we walked in silence. I had spent practically all my time at Temple Industries trying to find some solid information on the secrets that we
re allegedly buried inside. But I had come up with nothing. Oh, sure, I had clarified a few points, but that was all.

  Point one — Peter had broken inside the Armory the same night my parents were killed. The security camera that seemed omnipotent — able to detect the magical abilities and identities of almost everyone in town — hadn’t known what to make of Peter, as he had been shrouded in living shadows, belying the fact that he had used something to trick the camera and disguise himself. I had found proof of this after sneakily raiding his office once things had calmed down a bit. He had stolen a ring from my desk that helped one become forgettable, a spell of sorts I had been tinkering around with at one point in my life. It must have sat in my desk for years at Plato’s Cave before Peter swiped it. After seeing the video, and after the chaos had died down, I realized that the distortion in the video had paralleled the forgotten spelled ring I had once made. I must have mentioned it to Peter at some point, as he had made it a priority to nab it from under my trusting nose.

  So, Peter had broken into the Armory and returned with an apparently useless music box.

  Point two — some unknown person had simultaneously broken into Temple Industries to kill my parents. I now knew that neither party had been affiliated with the dragons. That had merely been a coincidence that the late Alaric Slate, then leader of the dragon nation, had capitalized on. Peter had immediately tried to sell his music box to Alaric in exchange for the gift of magical power. It hadn’t worked out for anyone, and I had gotten the music box back.

  So, now I knew that some third party had been after either my parents or the Armory. Immediately after Peter’s intrusion, my father had locked down the room and then been killed by said third party, leaving behind a cryptic message on the security feed for my eyes only. Which made no sense to me. Even now. Then the word Titan had popped up on the feed, and the video ended. No one had been able to enter since, even after we removed the security door my father had activated. But if the additional security was now gone, and it was the same as it had been when Peter so easily opened the door, how could I not enter? It was baffling. Even more concerning was that now, thanks to the Justices, the illusion hiding the door was gone, leaving it visible to anyone.