Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2) (35 page)

She smiled, leaning forward, debating like a knowledgeable professor. “Need I remind you that you are now one of those…
things.
Now
you
could be considered dangerous.”

I nodded wearily. “Yes. Without my magic, I’m downright terrifying. So, speaking of that, what exactly is this Maker ability? Is it separate from my magic? Part of it? If my magic disappears, do I lose this new ability?”

Hope shrugged sadly. “I truly do not know.”

I sighed, studying my little playboy Jiminy Cricket, and thinking about what I should do next. Hope met my gaze, refusing to blink, seeming to appreciate my scrutiny for some reason. A new thought struck me. I realized that if I failed, she was stuck here… forever. Since my blood was the Key, she would no longer have a means of escape. She truly wanted to help me, but if I couldn’t figure this out, she would be locked up here for eternity. After everything she had done to help me, she was going to be stuck in this Armory. If I died, she would have no way of escaping. I made a decision I hoped I wouldn’t regret. But then again, if I failed, the world would be facing Armageddon anyway. What harm could little old Hope cause? “If I die, you are free to go. That is all I can promise you right now, Hope.” She continued to meet my gaze for what seemed like an eternity, and then shed a single tear as she bowed her head in gratitude.

After a few moments, and a few sniffles, she spoke. “But you must meet death for your salvation, Master. It is the only way. Sadly, your death will grant me something I desire more than anything in this world, but know that it will be a bitter achievement. I do not wish you harm, my host, but it is the only way for you to win if you do not arm yourself. Just know that merely dying will not save you. You must meet death at the right time and in the right circumstances.” She added sadly, a metaphorical iceberg of deeper meaning in her answer. I didn’t know what that iceberg entailed, but I could see it behind her eyes.

So I laughed.

I couldn’t help it. The situation was so utterly ridiculous, I could think of nothing else to do. I knew Othello was growing more concerned by the moment, fearing long-term effects of my concussion, and that only made me laugh harder. I was facing my death. What did I care about a concussion? My laughter subsided after a few minutes and I wiped my eyes, careful not to touch my broken nose. I walked over to the railing and stared out at the harsh landscape stretching as far as the eye could see. I saw no signs of human habitation anywhere. I was alone. I pondered my life. All of it.

My friends. I hoped they were enjoying their vacations. I imagined Ashley’s face when Gunnar proposed, and my tears of laughter turned to soft tears of happiness. And regret. I had hoped I would get to be Gunnar’s Best Man. Not that I was really Best Man material, but I was confident I had earned it by default. By saving our lives from a silver dragon at least. Also, I had introduced them. Despite all the chaos of the dragon war, I had inadvertently brought two people together, and they were about to commit to a lifetime together.

Because of me.

I thought of Tory and all the amazing sights she must be seeing with Misha and Raego. Being allowed to enter the home of the Dragon Nation was no small gift. What would it be like? How would she be received? It must have been an amazing experience for her. And she was doing it with the woman she loved. I smiled. I had hooked them up too. In the middle of the dragon war.

I was a regular Cupid. My smile stretched wider as I imagined myself in boxers covered in hearts, wielding a tiny bow. It was so ridiculous that my smile stretched into a guffaw of laughter. What would Indie say if she saw me dressed like that? She would be beside herself with giggles. Her gorgeous dimples piercing her cheeks as her dazzling white teeth shone beneath her full red lips, just perfect for kissing.

Indie.

I had also managed to find love.

During one of the worst moments of my life.

She was my everything. The source of my strength. She had nursed me back to health after the fight with Alaric. She had encouraged me by giving me the strength to continue fighting when I was broken. She had accepted my Demons, my past romances, my obvious flaws, my night terrors, and rather than run screaming, she had stuck it out. Not only that, but she had given me an ultimatum to remove my protective walls or lose her. She didn’t want to
run
, she wanted to get
closer
. When everyone else fled, she darted into the thick of things. She was like one of those World War Nurses, diving into the chaos of battle in order to save a single life. She had also taken care of my friends. My shop. My life. She was a
fixer
. Wherever she went, restoration and order seemed to follow. Like her own special kind of magic.

And I would never get to see her again. I dropped my gaze, seriously considering my options. Accept weapons that had been locked away for a very important reason, potentially unleashing dangers that could threaten more innocent lives. Just so I could selfishly get more time with Indie and my friends. But how many would suffer for my decision? And perhaps the thing I took ended up changing me into a monster. I could end up squaring off with Gunnar. If the weapon changed me for the worst, my best friend’s fangs and claws would be there to stop me. It was just who he was. I expected nothing else from him. Hell, I would do the same thing.

Or I could die, and let the world continue on as it was.

With a slow movement, I lifted my head and made my decision, suddenly feeling much better. My humor even began to return as I faced Othello and Hope, who were both watching me with curiosity and concern. I smiled softly to them, nodding my head to banish their concern.

“You have come to a conclusion.” Hope stated.

I nodded. “Quite literally, I’m afraid. I will not take any of the weapons.”

Hope’s head sagged, and Othello began to cry. “But you will
die
.” She sobbed.

I shrugged. “Yes. And apparently, I’m not even allowed to die on my own
terms
. But why should I be given
that
option?” I continued in sarcastic amusement, realizing that the confidence of my decision had eliminated my fear of dying. I felt proud of myself. I would die honorably. “As my actions so far have been, my death will also serve a greater good.”

I turned to Hope with a smile, easing the pain on her stunningly beautiful face. She nodded with studious respect, like a scientist encountering a creature they’ve never seen before. But I still had questions for her. If I had to die, I wanted to make sure I took out as many of the bad guys as possible first. But one person above all others.

The summoner.

Before I could formulate a question, my lips moved of their own volition. “Well, I guess I’m finished here.” Othello nodded without argument. We left quickly, having other very important things to do. I barely noticed any of our surroundings as we strode through the hallway and back to the large door that stood open before us. We exited hurriedly, stepping back into Temple Industries. Othello was still sobbing softly.

The door closed behind us before we had even realized the spell had forced us to leave. I had been too preoccupied with Hope’s news about me dying at the right place and the right time to notice the spell. As the door sealed behind us, I groaned. “God-”

Othello coughed. “Let’s hold off on cursing his name. Didn’t pan out well last time.”

I bit my tongue, nodding begrudgingly.

“So, you gave up.” She looked both sad and disappointed at the same time.

I felt a wolfish smile split my face. “Oh, no.
Definitely
not. I’ve just accepted a very likely outcome. But I won’t be going down without one hell of a fight. I’m going to cause such a ruckus dying that Death himself will shake my hand and send me back with a farewell party to get rid of me.” Othello’s face began to split into a hungry grin. “And I’m going to take as many sons of bitches with me as possible. Angels. Demons. Or Academy wizards. Everyone’s on my naughty list. The Boatman is going to have a
very
busy day soon.” I hissed. She laughed, and I patted her arm reassuringly.

We began to wander towards the exit in silence, and ran into absolutely no one.

Which was odd. People were always working at my company, even on weekends. As the cold air hit me in the face on our way out of an employee side entrance, we realized why.

Helicopters filled the sky, and people were
everywhere
. Sound filled my ears after our peacefully quiet sojourn inside both the Armory and the building. My employees filled the parking lot in droves, some in lab-coats, others in suits. Then there were the cops. It was like the
Mardi Gras
parade was in my parking lot. I instantly hunched lower, hoping to disguise everything about my person, wondering if I should use any of my power to create a disguise so I wasn’t caught. Were they here for
me
? Of course they were. Othello’s eyes darted back and forth like a feral cat, making sure we hadn’t been spotted. But we were relatively alone by the building. It didn’t seem that the cops were organizing a raid or anything. In fact, they seemed to be barricading the front doors to the building in an attempt to keep people out, not in… like it was a crime scene. They had simply missed this door for some reason.

My tension at being caught slowly dissipating, my curiosity replaced the void as I edged closer to the tape, doing my best to remain inconspicuous. It wasn’t difficult, thanks to the horde of bodies filling the parking lot.

Then I saw it. And smelled it. Burnt flesh. To me it was obvious, but to everyone else it merely looked like a particularly violent hate crime. A vampire was staked to a light pole near the entrance to Temple Industries. I could see the fangs from where I stood, as well as the wooden stake through her heart. And she was smoking lightly. Vampires and sunlight went together as well as dogs and stray cats. One of the cops must have hosed her down at some point, because a puddle of watered down blood pooled at the base of the pole. An artsy painted card seemed to be pinned underneath the stake. With the size and look of it from this distance, I could only assume that it was a Tarot card. Several sets of speakers belted out newscasts, cameras whirling eagerly as each reporter fought to be first to drop the news.

“Another
Mardi Gras
prank, and at
Temple Industries
, of all places…” A voice boomed on a megaphone, heavy with enunciation on the location. The voice continued on, describing the scene for the world to hear, as well as rehashing my kidnapping and my bookstore being destroyed, her words heavy with curious implication in all the right places. Each call of my name felt like a hammer blow from Thor, the God of Thunder. I groaned, suddenly nervous about my proximity to so many people at such an inconspicuous event. I motioned Othello to quickly but stealthily sneak back to our car as nonchalantly as possible. I couldn’t be seen here. I saw Greta talking to a reporter and hoped she kept her sighting of me quiet. Why couldn’t things ever be easy?

Chapter 27

I
decided that a meeting with Asterion, the Minotaur, was in order. I literally had no one else to turn to, and the Greek legend was privy to a lot of juicy and arcane information in the magical community. Othello seemed eager to meet the legend in the flesh. I wasn’t. I typically didn’t receive favorable information when chatting with the ‘born again’ monster of Greek tragedies.

You see, the Minotaur had recently become a card carrying Buddhist.

He was obsessed with it. Like all ‘saved’ members of any flavor of religion.

But hey, At least it was a peaceful choice. He spouted off about Karma, and blah blah blah a lot, but he wasn’t murdering and devouring innocents inside a labyrinth anymore. So, he had that going for him.

As soon as we left Othello’s car and entered the pasture proper, I could sense tension in the air. I loosened my shoulders, prepping for a scrap. One never knew, and it wasn’t fun to be attacked when your muscles were cold. I felt marginally better after Othello had doctored up my wounds again. None looked infected, but several were concerning. The gash on the back of my head was just a deep scratch. Head wounds always bled fast and hard, but both of us had been nervous about that one. Especially after giving me what I was sure had been a mild concussion. My face felt worse, but as long as I didn’t move it too much it was manageable. We continued on, heading more or less to the center of the field where I had first cowtipped the Minotaur a few months ago… and then dueled him a few days afterwards in exchange for the book on dragons.

We hadn’t really dueled
here
. We had instead been teleported to The Dueling Grounds, a place between worlds. I wasn’t sure if it was a place one could accidentally walk into, or if Asterion had booked it from the supernatural time-share community. Either way, I wouldn’t be pleased if I found myself there now. I had enough on my plate.

A set of gleaming horns materialized out of nowhere, the only part of the creature visible. I instinctively shoved Othello into the grass and rolled away just as the ivory spears pierced the air where I had been standing. I heard grunts of disappointment from a heavy set of lungs, and clumps of grass and dirt flew into the air as it thundered past me. Then the horns and the hoof prints were gone again, leaving only a heavy silence behind.