Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  I nodded in relief. “Oh. Yeah. Of course. That makes more sense.” I studied her curiously, the silence stretching as she met my gaze with infinite patience. “Why do you work for me again?”

  “You could call me a librarian of sorts. I was created to be the ward of this place.” Her eyes twinkled with excitement as she spread her dainty hands to encompass the room. “Here. Let me show you a few of my favorite things.” She was suddenly directly in front of me, seemingly not having crossed the space between us. I didn’t even have time to flinch before she eagerly grabbed my arm to lead me deeper into the room. I didn’t have time to stop her, and I was caught up with her infectious glee at finally having someone to talk to about her toys. And I was damn curious about that after having spent so long trying to gain entrance to this place. We rapidly moved from pile to pile, weapon to weapon, rug to painting, all the while with her name dropping ancient items of power that made my skin begin to crawl. I was flabbergasted as we darted from one astonishment to the next. Gems, jewels, art, weapons, maps, and hundreds of other things filled the vast room in every direction, and this was only one of many, many rooms. She had already pointed out a lamp with a genuine genie trapped inside, the Nemean Lion’s skin that had adorned Hercules, and even a few journals written by the Brothers Grimm — the sociopathic hitmen of the supernatural world.

  The artwork alone was worth millions of dollars, not even considering the jewelry.

  But it wasn’t just weapons. I spotted a collection of boxed action figures, signed baseballs, expensive antiques, and even vinyl records. It was a hoarder’s paradise.

  And it was all…

  Mine.

  It was slightly humbling. With only a handful of these items I would be practically unstoppable, and wouldn’t need to worry about my curse at all.

  A small part of me felt like Smaug hoarding his treasure, but another small part of me began to grow concerned. Was I worthy of being the Amory’s caretaker? Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts…absolutely.

  “You’re like a playboy bunny version of Jiminy Cricket.” I blurted, perhaps too honestly. “The conscience for this place, like Jiminy was for Pinocchio.” She smiled at my compliment, and released my hand. “Did my parents command you to keep watch over the Armory? Did they create you?” I studied her more carefully. I had felt her hand, so I knew she was a physical being, but where did she get her nourishment? Was she merely a construct created by my parents and this was all happening in my head?

  “No. They didn’t create me, and yes, I’m real.” Her eyes threatened to suck me into their depths, so I quickly turned away. She laughed, patting me on the arm innocently. “This is but one of the world’s armories. Albeit the most notorious. Your parents have transformed it into the greatest of all of them. But perhaps I say that only because I am here to help.” I nodded politely, not knowing what to say. She eyed me up and down appraisingly. Then she took a slow step closer, brushing the scar on my face with a gentle touch. “How did you acquire… oh, a dragon.” She had apparently read my thoughts again. “You are a warrior then, a dragon slayer? Yes. I see it now. You’re wearing war paint to terrorize your enemies.” She pointed at my black eyes. “I like it. Who are we destroying today?” She said it with the tone and excitement a small child might use to declare we were about to play tea party princesses. I shivered. “We have many weapons here if you so desire. You will never have to risk a scar again.” I took a polite step back and cleared my throat. She smiled, respecting my distance without offense. “Your parents’ didn’t tell me that they actually succeeded in granting you the power of a Maker though.”

  She stared at me, waiting for me to speak. “A Maker?” I asked curiously, and with a small amount of alarm. She nodded, but her excitement slowly began to fade as she realized I had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Have you noticed an increase in your power?” She asked instead. I nodded with excitement. Finally! Answers. “But they didn’t warn you? They never explained why?” She asked with disbelief.

  “They never had the chance. They were murdered.” I answered softly, my hopes for answers crumbling to ashes.

  She seemed to shrink a bit at the shoulders. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up. What I meant was that they took something from this place in order to give you a… parting gift, as it were. A workshop for your new gift to flourish.”

  I stared back at her blankly, a little mollified that my parents had experimented on me without my knowledge. “Gift?”

  “You are the first Maker to walk the earth in hundreds of years.”

  I pondered her words. “Maker… That sounds kinda… silly.” I finally answered.

  She giggled. “It is in no way silly. It is how wizards came to be in the first place. It means that you can literally create new forms of magic the world has never before seen. Other wizards stick with the old tried and true spells, replicating what they have seen done before. They do not have the power to push the boundaries and create new magic. As a Maker, you can quite literally do whatever you can imagine. Whatever you dare attempt. Magic that your enemies could not counter, since they never would have experienced it before. It is a gift from the gods. Your parents wanted you to be strong enough to defend this place… and yourself.”

  Create magic? Unbelievable. My parents were pulling strings even from beyond the grave. “Well, it seems their hard work has only painted a bulls-eye on my back. The Academy wasn’t too pleased to notice my jump in power.”

  She nodded sadly. “The world’s thugs never are. They don’t like things they cannot explain.” She straightened her shoulders. “Well, I hope you made a right mess of those vipers at the Academy. You are, after all, limited only by your creativity and imagination.”

  “Well, I didn’t make a right mess of them. They actually cursed me. My power is now fading, and will be gone in three days if I don’t comply with their demands to give them the Armory. It will fade faster if I use my magic up before their deadline.”

  She locked eyes with me. “Then I must help you eliminate this wretched spell.” She closed her eyes and lifted her arms to point in my general direction. I tensed, but nothing happened. After a few moments, she opened her eyes with a low growl. “Impossible! I can’t even touch the curse. It repels my power like oil on water.” She studied me for another second. “Even with your new abilities, it is too strong for you to remove on your own. They must have used a circle of wizards.”

  I nodded with frustration. “Eight of them, to be precise.”

  She growled. “Cowards!” I liked her already. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all. “It seems that the only solution is for you to find more power.”

  I blinked at her, not hiding my mounting frustration very well. “You and Asterion both. Simple, but efficient with your fortune cookie answers.”

  She visibly started. “The Minotaur lives?”

  I hesitated, not knowing if I had accidentally given up a State Secret. “Um. Yeah. We’re kinda’ bros.” She watched me, uncomprehendingly. “Friends.” I amended.

  She continued to stare at me in silence, thoughts I couldn’t even fathom churning behind those magical eyes of hers.

  “Anyway,” I continued, feeling uncomfortable. “How exactly do I find more power?”

  She arched a brow, relaxing as she fought a growing smile. Finally, she sighed and lifted her arms at the Armory around us. I slapped my forehead in embarrassment, remembering at the last second to be gentle for my injured nose. Of course. Armory. Power. Duh.

  “This is all yours. You can borrow items from here to aid you in your investigation. It’s fitting, really. Use your parents’ tools to discover their murderer. It wouldn’t be the first time some of these items have reentered the world. After all, you’ve already been transformed into a Maker.” I looked around, feeling slightly thick that I hadn’t considered the idea immediately. But like earlier, my thoughts grew concerned. These things had been locked away for
a reason. Surely they shouldn’t be wielded out of the Armory. But… wasn’t I already contradicting that statement? My parents had already done just that to transform me into a Maker. Supposedly. Did I trust this woman? Could she be lying about their gift? Then I thought about it for a few seconds.

  I had made some remarkable discoveries lately. Tinkering had become a fiery passion where before it had been merely an interesting diversion. And I had learned to Apparate rather quickly, in a way that I had never before learned anything. Maybe she was right. It would explain the power spike that had so surprised the Justices.

  I decided to change the subject, allow my mind to warm up to the idea slowly. “Why does everything I see remind me of the Greeks?” I asked curiously.

  “Because they were brilliant marketers, of course. We have totems from practically every culture here. You just do not recognize them.”

  “You said there are more places like this in the world?”

  “Yes, but they pale in comparison. Your parents quite outdid themselves bringing additional items of power here.” She studied me as I scanned the room, fighting the selfish urge to arm myself for World War III. I could be all but invincible with even a handful of these items. I could take out the Justices, swat away the Angels, and banish the Demons with ease. No one could stand in my way.

  But… and there was always a but.

  My parents had locked them away for a reason. Power had a tendency to change a guy. And I liked myself the way I was. The urge was still persistent, but I squashed it. “Do as you will, but you are not without options.” She said softly, reading my thoughts. “You are a Maker and must not give the Academy access to this storehouse.” She warned.

  “Is this Maker gift how I was able to learn how to teleport just by experiencing it one time?”

  “Teleport? I don’t know this word.” She answered with a frown.

  “You know. Moving from one place to another really fast.”

  “You learned how to run?” She teased with a grin.

  I scowled. “Over great distances in the blink of an eye.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Oh. You mean Shadow Walking.” She tapped a lip, watching my pensive frown. “You mean this is not common knowledge among wizards?”

  I stared at her for a few seconds before shaking my head. “No. Apparently it’s only known to a select few.” I regarded her thoughtfully. This ability was nothing new to her, even though she had never heard the modern word teleport. Interesting. Shadow Walking. I wondered where I had been when between locations. An alternate reality? Was it dangerous? Most likely it was or it would be common knowledge. Another fact hit me. The Academy was guilty of doing exactly what they accused me of — hiding power. Which instantly confirmed that I shouldn’t trust them. They wanted power for themselves. Not for the good of the supernatural community. They wanted control, weapons, and power. But why?

  She had frowned in disapproval at mention of the Academy hiding knowledge like this from other wizards. She finally shrugged in answer to my original question. “Makers learn quickly. Their subconscious runs on overdrive. Always watching, cataloguing, learning.” Her eyes were thoughtful as she watched the uncertainty on my face. She was obviously finished with that conversation because she moved to another topic after glancing at a nearby sundial. “Your situation could be worse…”

  I blinked. “Losing my power? I’m helpless with this curse. It won’t go away until I give them access to the Armory. To you. If even then.”

  “Then you must die, Maker.” She didn’t even look ashamed at the comment. Seeing my reaction, her eyes grew softer. “Some men aren’t meant to find peace or happiness. They are meant to challenge Death. Fight Wars. They are meant to be great.”

  “Well, my death will put a damper on just about all of those things.”

  She shrugged, changing the topic again. “Now that you are my new master, how do you wish me to aid you?”

  I could sense that she wanted me to formally acknowledge her assistance, but I was a tad nervous about what that might obligate me to do. My father had always taught me that there was no free lunch. “I just want to understand what this place is and why it was locked away.”

  She laughed. “Come now. Of course your parents told you of this place.” She intoned, sarcastically. I shook my head and she blinked at me in awe. “They never told you about this fortress? About… me?” I shook my head again, blushing slightly at her offended tone.

  “Uh… nope.”

  “Well, I am here to serve… you, if you will have me. I keep record of the items of power stored here. What exactly do you wish to know?” Disappointment was clear in her voice.

  “Just answers, I guess. I don’t want to force you to tell me anything you don’t want to tell.” I said conversationally, looking over her shoulder at the vast array of items. As was typical for me, my gaze rested on a set of books that sat neatly on a table. I found myself wondering what their story was. Their spines were elaborately decorated, but they held not a speck of dust.

  Her tone grew cold in the blink of an eye, arctic. Literally. Frost instantly coated the table and books. “But… you will if you must. Already you resort to threats. Against a slave, no less.”

  My mouth clicked shut, realization dawning too late. “No. No, that’s not what I meant. That wasn’t a threat. That was just a statement. I merely meant that I don’t know the rules here. I am not like those you may have served before.”

  She chuckled sadly and the frost on the table simply disappeared, which was entirely creepy. Shouldn’t it have melted rather than disappear? “Never heard that before. I thought you might be different.”

  “Look, is there anything I can do to prove that I’m not here to hurt you? I didn’t even know you existed ten minutes ago.” Did this mean that my parents had abused her? Was that why she was so jaded?

  She watched me curiously. “We shall see,” was all she said. I was surprised that she hadn’t asked me to free her, to beg for my help. I didn’t think I would have said yes, but I wasn’t sure. Perhaps I would have. Everyone deserved freedom. But I didn’t know her story or the Armory’s history. Not yet. I needed to be sure she wasn’t dangerous first.

  So I let her assume what she would. Cold, but effective. I guarded my thoughts with a sudden wall of impenetrable power so that she couldn’t read me. She squinted back, noticing my defense, and not seeming best pleased.

  Confident my thoughts were safe, I thought for a moment. It was obvious why my parents had been killed. Someone wanted access to this place. “But who killed them? Why am I having night terrors? Why does the door back there smell like Brimstone?”

  Her sudden silence caused me to look up, realizing I had spoken aloud. Her eyes had changed to a milky lavender shade, gaze distant as if she could no longer see me. The difference in her voice caused the hair on the back of my neck to rise, as it was totally different from when she had spoken before — older, wiser, and more lethal — like a completely different person. Like… an entity of knowledge should sound. “The doorway to death can truly be a hallway of opportunities. To tread the sharp edge of a sword — to run on smooth-frozen ice, one needs no footsteps to follow. Walk over the cliffs with hands free. Death will provide answers to thee.” Then she blinked as if just waking up, unsure what had just transpired.

  “Are you telling me the only answers I can find will be through death?”

  “Only the ultimate answer can be found through death.” She answered distantly, her eyes slowly returning back to normal as she caught a hand on the table for balance. What the hell? Then she chuckled, as if amused at her own words.

  “Very punny.” I growled. “Now, what the hell did you mean, and what just happened? You almost fell over. And your eyes changed colors.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know where the words came from… it happens sometimes. I’m not sure if it’s the items here or something to do with me.” Her eyes darted back to the sundial and widened in alarm. “Quickly. We hav
en’t much time.” I blinked at that, but she was already rushing to grab my hand and lead me around the room. I had all the time in the world to give her. She was the only one willing to give me answers. But I allowed her to drag me to a new room, smiling at her excitement to point out various items only read about in stories. A cold chill ran down my neck at some of them. Excalibur. Armor designed by literal Gods. Vials of mysterious liquids and raw energy that she silently avoided. A blue phone booth… no, that couldn’t be the Tardis… could it?

  She finally looked content, having shown me some of the more dangerous items. Knowing this was one room of dozens — if not hundreds — I found myself again wary of my new hideout. “The Armory is a cache of magical items deemed too dangerous to fall into the wrong hands. Most things in here are deadly, but lethality is in the eye of the beholder. To the caveman, fire was dangerous, but one just needed to learn how to control it.” She paused before continuing, no doubt reading the question on the tip of my tongue with her creepy mind reading ability. “I don’t know why you smelled Brimstone outside. Perhaps the thief from a few months ago resorted to Demons in order to gain entrance. I don’t know how that could be possible, but he ultimately failed. Knowing what he desired, and how powerful it was, I tricked him.”

  I felt myself lean forward eagerly. Peter. “What did he want?” This was it. An answer.

  Finally.

  She appraised me wordlessly, judging me as surely as if I had been weighed to the ounce. “Power. He seemed fixated on the bathwater of Baby Achilles.” She idly waved a hand at the array of vials we had bypassed.

  “Well, as power goes, that seems kind of a poor choice.” She arched a brow.

  “That would be the water from the River Styx, which granted him his immortality on all but his ankle.” I shuddered in comprehension.

  “Oh. Well… thanks for not giving it to him then.” She nodded. “It was as your parents would have wanted. Besides, why would I let him have what he wanted if he wasn’t able to grant my freedom?” My mind worked furiously. So she did want something.