Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1) (27 page)

Then it shut off, the whole computer shutting down, and rebooting.

I stood urgently, pacing back and forth. No one spoke. My mind scattered, rebelling against my futile attempts to control my fury. I felt my power rising up inside me like a tidal wave. I finally spoke, panting uncontrollably. “The feed stopped within one minute of the Time of Death announced by the coroner. That feed was somehow tied to my parents’ heartbeat, stopping as soon as they died. That can’t be possible.” I said, exasperated.

Still, no one spoke. I rounded on Ashley. “Do you know anything,
anything
, about this?” I demanded.

She shook her head urgently. “Nothing. I swear.”

Gunnar spoke softly. “You understood what he said to you.” It wasn’t a question.

I turned to him, slowly. “Oh, yes. I understood it perfectly.” I continued pacing, trying to keep up with my fleeting thoughts.

“Care to share?” He asked sympathetically. I ignored him as the computer chimed back to life. I flew to the desk, logged back in, and signed into my email, but the video feed was gone. I logged off, and strode out of the room, Ashley and Gunnar barely keeping up.

Greta stood, looking horrified as she saw my face. A box was neatly packed on her desk. “You,” I leveled an angry finger at her, my power leaking out enough to launch a flurry of papers from her desk into the air. She squeaked like a child, terror filling her eyes as the tempest of papers floated down around her like snow. “Are not leaving my company. Sit. Down.” My voice was rough with emotion. She obeyed, collapsing into her chair with a faint squeak of hinges. Then I was off again. I called over my shoulder. “We’ll be in touch, Miss Belmont. We will
definitely
be in touch.” I turned my head to look her in the eyes over my shoulder. “Soon.”

Gunnar followed in my wake like a good dog as the Master Temple stormed out of his castle to pick a fight with a dragon, or the Minotaur, or some helpless bystander who happened to tick him off on the way.

Someone was going to die. Soon. By my hand. And I was going to relish every second of it. But first, we were headed to the expo center to try to learn something about the dragons’ sudden interest in the eclipse tomorrow afternoon. Maybe I would get the chance to kill someone there.

One could dream.

Chapter 27

W
e had picked up Tory and were headed into the parking lot at the
Eclipse Expo!
Or so the signs said. The hotel was vast, full of auditoriums designed for conferences and proms, loaded with luxurious restaurants, several spas, and a smattering of gift shops. I had been in a daze since leaving Temple Industries, pondering the implications of my father’s last message to me. He had known it was the end, or at least seriously assumed it to be the case. He had relied so heavily on my eidetic memory, and skill of lip reading, and even the knowledge of a password that had mostly been a lucky guess. Now I had one answer, but it only led deeper into the rabbit hole, giving me countless more questions. When this was all over I would bury myself in solving their secret before it was too late. If it wasn’t too late already… It was too volatile of a project to be left unattended. And it had been over a week.

Being so distracted, I had barely noticed Tory joining us. Her and Gunnar had made small talk while we drove, complimenting each other’s clothing, but I had been mostly ignoring them. Not purposely, just so enveloped in my own thoughts that nothing else had mattered. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I plucked it out, glanced at the screen, and then answered.

“Master Temple-” I recognized the nasally voice instantly.

“Go fuck yourself, Kosage.” Then I hung up, calmly placing the phone back into my pocket. I didn’t give one flying hell about the cops right now. The silence that ensued in the car was as delicate as brittle glass. Gunnar turned the car off and waited for me to compose myself. I blinked, looking around as if surprised. “You two ready?” I asked.

Gunnar nodded, and I heard Tory agree. I opened my door and rappelled the twelve feet down to the pavement. I quickly unlatched Tory’s door and opened it for her. Her hand was reached out to do it for herself. I held out a hand to help her since she was wearing bright blue heels. She stared at me, slightly surprised. “How did you move so fast?” She whispered very seriously.

I blinked back. “Pardon?”

Gunnar was watching me warily. “All I saw was a blur, and I’m a werewolf. You have never moved like that before…”

I looked from one to the other for a few moments and then shrugged uneasily. “My guard is down. You might see me do a few things tonight that shouldn’t be possible. A wizard’s life is all about control, and presently I seem to have none. I’ll need you to be my compass between right and wrong, normal and irregular. Do you think you can do that for me?” I asked, unsure of myself for the first time in a very long time.

I never asked others to help me, but I honestly felt like my head was stuffed with wool, and yet somehow that I was thinking clearer than I ever had before.

“Perhaps it would be wise for you to wait in the car while Tory and I search the Expo Center.” Gunnar offered. “And hanging up on Kosage probably wasn’t your best idea.”

I shook my head urgently. “A werewolf and the she-hulk might not be enough if we run into company. They could mind-fuck you without me there to protect you. Remember the Raven at my shop? She almost had you until I stomped all over her mind web.” His face turned red, remembering all too well. “Just keep an eye out for me. I seem to have less restraint than usual, and I feel stronger. Which doesn’t make sense. It almost feels the same as when I was first coming into my powers as a teenager. Perhaps I am reaching another plateau of strength.” I didn’t mention the oddity of the thief stumbling directly into the cops by the river. The less they knew the better. Plus, my distortion of chance might work to our advantage inside the Expo Center.

Gunnar’s eyes widened at that. “Aren’t you already stronger than most other wizards?” I nodded. “Is this spike normal?”

I chewed my lip for a moment. “I don’t think so. At least not to this degree.”

I reached further with my hand, offering it to Tory. She finally accepted, and allowed me to help her out of the SUV. I stepped back, eyeing her up and down speculatively. “Stunning. Simply stunning.” Her cheeks warmed at the obvious interest. “And you call me Archangel. You look like Aphrodite.” Her sleek white dress hugged her hips, leaving little to the imagination. It was slit at the side to revel a thigh somehow still tanned from the summer. Either that or she carefully maintained a natural looking fake tan. She looked classy, yet dangerously seductive. Like a James Bond girl.

I reached out a hand, but hesitated. “May I?”

After a glance to Gunnar, she nodded, obviously wary of my previous warning. “You two have nothing to fear from me. I don’t think…” I delicately brushed her curled hair back to reveal her bare shoulder. I appraised her as if contemplating a purchase. Without asking, I unclasped the delicate chain necklace around her throat, and replaced it with a heavy diamond choker from my suit pocket. Not my intended purpose for the jewelry, but I had backups. Her eyes widened at the obvious quality of the necklace. I handed hers back and she tucked it into her purse. “This is better. It’s flashier, and less likely to get in your way if you need to move.” I said. I studied her face, admiring her skill with a brush. The makeup was definitely eye-catching, but it was missing something. “Do you have any bright red lipstick?”

She nodded, digging in her purse. I motioned for her to continue. She applied it expertly. Gunnar watched with apparent interest as she finished. It was as if she had suddenly found a spotlight, lips gleaming like fresh blood. She looked perfect. I glanced at Gunnar, looking him up and down, calculating. “I don’t have any lipstick, Nate, so don’t bother.” I smiled back. He looked every inch the modern Viking. Nordic features flashed harshly in the afternoon light. I simply nodded approval and he rolled his eyes. “Who gets to judge you?” Gunnar grumped.

“How about our delicate Tory?”

“I can think of nothing that would make your outfit better.” She appraised my tailored silver suit with more than approval. As if I was a dinner plate and she was starving. “I even like the James Dean look of the loose tie. You look very rat-pack. Rugged, yet refined. Is dress really that important to you?”

“Sartorial skill is a powerful weapon. Sometimes that is a huge advantage. Ever read Sherlock Holmes?” I asked.

She shook her had. “I saw the new movie.”

“An adequate portrayal, but one should read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in order to glimpse the full scope of how vital the right set of garments can aid one in a time of need. Disguises are a perfect sleight of hand. Think of a strip club. I assume you have visited one?” I asked without thinking. Her face turned a shade darker.

“Once or twice.” She answered guardedly.

“I just know that someone in law enforcement must see the darker shades of life in order to be competent at his or her career. Imagine a dancer wearing nothing at all.” Her face flushed darker.

“Nate…” Gunnar warned. “Compass says
no
.”

“Point heard, but allow me to elaborate…” He finally nodded, protective of Tory. “Her natural curves…” I carefully brushed Tory’s side, making her arms pebble, and her moist red lips opened instinctively as she took a breath. “Will no doubt catch the eye, but the surprise has already been given. There is not much more to see. Boring.

“Now imagine an extreme outfit on a dancer. A nurse, for example. Catches one’s attention, but without the right circumstances, it’s too flashy to keep your interest. She’s flaunting herself too obviously. You know she’s there to take it off. Again, boring.

“Now, lastly, imagine a stunning woman step out onto the stage, fingers adoringly caressing the pole, eyes intent. She is wearing a flattering dress like Tory here.” Tory’s lips were still parted, her breathing deeper as she stared into my eyes. “Her hair is tied up with chop sticks. Then she stares straight into your eyes, and pulls the chopsticks out, her hair cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall.” My fingers flipped Tory’s hair before I trailed the back of my nails down from her shoulder to her elbow. She shivered again.

“You don’t know what’s about to happen next, or how long it will go on, but you can’t turn away from her gaze. Then her hand carefully unzips the dress down the side, revealing an artfully tattooed ribcage, and then she begins to swing around the pole, masterfully, owning everything in the room. No one moves. Then she looks over her shoulder at you, and
clack
! She slams her stiletto down onto the stage, making you spill your drink slightly. You can’t decide whether to meet her eyes or stare at the tease of flesh where the zipper dangles loose. She bends down at the hips, coming to hands and knees, and slowly crawls towards you with the grace of a predatory feline, eyes pinning you to your seat.”

Tory was panting, and Gunnar looked stunned. Tory stepped back, resting a hand against the SUV for support. I didn’t realize I had stepped closer to Tory. “Now, tell me which has a bigger impact?”

Neither spoke, so I continued. “That is the power of one’s attitude and choice of dress. It ruled the European courts for centuries, power flashing from one to another with every change in fashion. There is a reason for every thread, every smile, and every flick of the hair. Everything matters. You live by this, or you can die by a smile that you didn’t mean to give. The people we will be running into in the future live by this. You better learn it, but until you do, I will be the group’s
fashionista
. If that is okay with you two?”

They nodded, regaining their breath. Tory looked at me as if she had never seen me before. “Was that magic?” She whispered.

I smiled back. “Yes.” Her shoulders sagged in relief. “But not directly. Artfully choosing your attire and the attitude to match it is a very, very powerful magic. But it isn’t magic like you saw on the bridge. I simply tapped into your imagination, feeding the flames of my point against your own personal experiences. What you felt was entirely genuine, and came from your own mind. I just helped reveal it to you.” I leveled her with my eyes, smiled confidently, and then turned away. “Shall we?”

They followed me towards the entrance. I hoped I was right. I didn’t
think
I had used magic in my example, but with as much power as was coursing through me, I honestly wasn’t sure. As soon as I had met up with Gunnar, I had felt my strength bubble back up, my skin tingling. Then after seeing the video feed my power had threatened to burst out of me. It had taken a long meditative car ride to Tory’s house before I was confident that I was in control. But once she climbed inside the car, it had gotten worse.

Something was happening to me, and I hadn’t the slightest idea what it was. I had never heard of such a large jump in power around my age. Not without aid, but I hadn’t done anything that would increase my power base. There were ways to measure it quantitatively, but I hadn’t had any time to sit down and do so with my usual spells. It was like weight lifting. I knew I
felt
stronger, but without pushing myself to max out on the bench press, I had no way to know exactly
how much
stronger I truly was. I would have to keep it under tight control for the time being.