Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1) (33 page)

“I thought that once that dragon lady asked for it, you wouldn’t get it for me, thinking I was in league with her.” He laughed nervously. “I ran upstairs to take away the note, but I guess that Jessie had written down the wrong title anyway, so I left it. Idiot kid.”

“Who did you say your client was?” I asked, my mind suddenly racing.

“A rich old man who let me take over his portfolio. He said this was invaluable to him, and that I would be rewarded handsomely.” He began idly fingering his bracelet with his thumb as he snapped the book closed. “I don’t know how to thank you, Nate. I need to tell him right away! He will be thrilled! How much is it worth to you.” He paused for a second. “Wait, did you say you got this from the Minotaur? Why would
he
have it?”

If my kid client had also asked Peter for the book, I’m sure he would have told me, but the brief description didn’t sound like the creepy, secretive kid who had come to me a week ago. And the kid hadn’t told me what the title was. He hadn’t, for instance, told me that it was the same book a harem of dragons had been searching for, killing for. Alaric had said that there were many other dragons in town. Was there some kind of power play going on? If so, which side was I on? The kid didn’t seem like he was working for anyone, if anything, he seemed to want everything on the hush.

I used the moment of confusion to strike, sensing the wildness in his eyes, and knowing something big was going on, even if I didn’t have all the pieces. I snatched the book from his hands, and darted back a step. “I already told you, Peter. This book is bought and paid for by a client of mine. I work for myself first, others second, if at all. Your client has no right to this book.”

“My client will triple what yours paid.” He added, smiling.

“I don’t change my mind after I promise something. My client asked me for the book, I obtained it, and he paid for it.” The last was a lie, but I’d be damned if I was going to pass over such a high-demand book to a stranger when I had almost been killed several times to find it.

“Just hand it over, Nate. You will have your money tomorrow. Enough to drown in Absinthe for the rest of your life.” Peter added with a slimy smile.

I studied him for a moment, and realized something for the first time. “Perhaps you hadn’t heard… I took over my parents’ company yesterday. The money you offer for this book is a mere pittance to me. Quite literally. Money is no longer a motivator. Just my word.” I clinked the ice cubes in my glass, swirling the jade liquid as I watched Peter’s eyes widen in surprise. “I take on clients that I trust, and I haven’t met yours. I do know that a harem of dragons want this book mighty fiercely, enough to kill me for it. Perhaps I will keep it for myself. After all, I did risk my life for it no less than an hour ago. The Minotaur was no easy meat.”

Peter watched me. “Why would the Minotaur have it?”

I held up a finger. “He didn’t have it, he obtained it for me.” I lied, not wanting to drag the Minotaur into it. There was a loyalty factor between my clients and I. I wouldn’t sell him out just to get myself out of some hot water. Well, scalding water.

“Come on, Nate. Just give it to me. We are friends.”

I laughed. “Funny. Because I thought friends were honest with each other, and I distinctly remember telling you that you would get nothing from me until you explained your newfound powers. I promise you nothing in exchange, but you do owe me an explanation. So, start explaining.”

He fiddled his bracelet. Then I understood. “Your bracelet gives you the power?”

He nodded. “It’s a gift on loan, for now. If I can obtain the book for him, the power is mine. If I can’t get it, then I get a whole lot of pain. I thought, with you as a friend, I could find any book in the world, so I agreed. How hard could it be if my client was willing to pay anything for the book, and then I could be a wizard like you.”

“Deals with the devil are usually like that.”

His eyes darted to the book. “I don’t want to be hurt by this guy, Nate. He’s really strong…”

He looked lost. “Then let me help you.”

He shook his head vehemently. “No. I can’t. He’ll kill me.”

“Who is he? I can make him back off. I have a reputation for this kind of thing.”

Peter’s eyes squinted. “I don’t need your protection. Just give me the book. Now.”

My anger was an immediate response to his tone. “Not happening, Peter. I think it’s time for you to go beg forgiveness to your client. You should never make a promise that you have no way of keeping. It’s time for you to accept the consequences like a man.” My voice was low, furious that he would dare threaten me so that he could keep a power that wasn’t his.

Something deep inside his eyes snapped. Madness danced there, where nothing of the sort had ever belonged before. The power had taken control of him. “Oh, I won’t be begging anyone for forgiveness, Nate. You really should have heeded my advice and taken the offer.”

He slammed his will against mine, sheer force against my hastily thrown shield. He was so
strong
. It was like a high school lineman trying to stop an NFL line, but I somehow managed to hold him back, and trip him up with a slash of fire at his ankles. As he lost his balance, his power lessened enough for me to regain my thoughts. Jesus, what the fuck
was
that bracelet, and where could I get one without the strings of servitude attached? I won’t lie that it was an enticing offer from Peter’s client. This was appealing even to me, and I had a considerable amount of power on my own. If he only had the finesse to match the power, he would be nearly invincible.

He regained his feet, lashing out with a rope of air to snatch the book. I tossed it behind me, cloaking it in shadows so that he couldn’t see it anymore. He roared in anger. “I will have the book, Nate. Get out of my way.”

“Peter, listen to yourself! You are willing to attack your best friend for a taste of power! What the fuck is
wrong
with you?” He didn’t listen, but instead began tossing balls of fire at me in rapid succession. I swallowed them all with airtight pockets cast just before each, hoping to diminish the damage to my store as much as possible. Then my own power began calling out to me, that additional reservoir, and I used it. I cut directly through his attack, and slammed him into the wall, his head rebounding sharply.

He lashed out one last time, slicing a six-inch gash up my ribs with razor sharp air until I managed to shield him away from his power completely. I tied the knot around his core, allowing him to feel the power of the bracelet, but not tap into it. He slumped, arms hanging uselessly, and eyes rolling slightly. I was panting heavily. I didn’t want him to keep the bracelet, but I was too scared to touch it, so I chose a different tact.

“The book is not yours. When you wake up, you will be home, and will have some time to think about all this. I doubt I will ever trust you again, but I expect an apology, if you survive your encounter with your client. I no longer care what becomes of you, Peter. I don’t tolerate betrayal.” Then I slammed my power deep into his brain, shutting it down into a deep unconsciousness that would last until morning, a hibernated sleep of sorts.

I prodded him with a finger to see if it had worked, and smiled grimly at my success. Wizards weren’t supposed to use dark magic like this, altering the brain directly, but who would ever find out? Then I used flows of air to carry him outside my shop, and hailed a nearby taxi. “My friend has had too much to drink. If it wouldn’t inconvenience you, I would ask that you take him home.” The driver nodded. I waved a hundred dollar bill at him. “I have an eidetic memory,” I glanced at his name placard on the dash, “Ivan Petranov. You will carry him to his room, lay him down on the couch, and lock up behind you. Leave his keys with the doorman and you will have nothing to fear.” I paused dramatically, and then hissed out the next words with a sound like a knife leaving a sheath. “If anything of his somehow disappears from his apartment, or if I hear that in any way you have deviated from my instructions, I will hunt you down, take away your license, and make sure that the only thing you can eat from this day forward is Borscht, because you will have no teeth. Agreed?” The man’s face went from angry to pale, but he nodded. I handed him two more hundreds. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

It was only as I stepped back inside that I realized I had been speaking in Russian. It was a perfect language for threats — full of harsh, angry syllables. Othello was rubbing off on me. I went back inside to ponder the book that had caused such a ruckus, waiting for Gunnar to pick me up so I could get the damn thing off my hands. Even though it was obviously dangerous, something about my client made me trust he wouldn’t use it for harm. He was more concerned with keeping the book safe than anything else. He had even been making sure that no one else was asking after it, but of course, without the title, that had been impossible to relay to him. I hoped my instincts were right, and that I wasn’t passing the book off to a psychopath. Oh well, we would see tonight.

At
Artemis’ Garter
.

Chapter 33

I
had told Misha to spy on Alaric while I dealt with my client. Hopefully she found something useful on her haunt. We pulled up to
Artemis’ Garter
around Ten, and I cursed when I saw the line snaking around the front of the building, and then on, and on, into eternity. Heads turned as we cruised by, girls primping themselves, or proudly revealing their cleavage to our pimped out SUV.

As we cruised by I made eye contact with one of the valet’s and he froze for a second. Then he jumped into the street, urgently flagging us down. Gunnar stopped, looking confused. The valet ran up to our window and waited. Gunnar frowned at me when I shrugged, but rolled down his window. The valet was heavily muscled, wearing a fishnet Tee despite the cold, but he somehow pulled it off. His nametag said Clyde. His short, spiky hair looked like a weapon, and I wondered if he doubled as such. If security tossed him into the crowd, his hair would no doubt maim several people. He smiled. “Good to see you, Master Temple. If you would please park over there, I will escort you and your party inside.”

I looked where he had pointed. “That says reserved parking.”

Clyde smiled again, amused. “Yes, reserved for distinguished guests and VIP’s. Join me at the front when you are ready.” He stepped away, satisfied, and I felt Tory and Gunnar’s eyes on me.

“Have you been here a few times or something?”

I shook my head. “Never.” I answered honestly.

Gunnar looked doubtful, but parked the beast of a vehicle into the designated spot, and we all got out. Gunnar wore a crisp white dress shirt, a heavy silver medallion hanging in a nest of blonde chest hair, and dark expensive jeans. His boots were mid-calf under the hem of his jeans, but they also looked expensive. I should know. I had bought it all. Tory was wearing a single-piece white cashmere sweater that dipped low, wide-open almost to mid-stomach, allowing her breasts to hang free without a bra, and revealing quite a nice expanse of cleavage. Her long brown hair flipped down over her shoulders, the tips curling up just underneath her breasts.

A wide leather belt helped her appear taller, and the fabric continued down into a mid-thigh skirt, which when she was facing the other way, hugged her rear like a glove. She wore black knee high boots, laced up in the back with red ribbon lacing like a Christmas present. Oh, how anyone would love to unwrap that gift. Several of the women in line snorted in jealousy as they spotted her with us.

I wore a starched black dress shirt with white cuffs, and white jeans. My black boots were even more expensive than Gunnar’s. All in all, we did look like VIP’s. We skirted the line and found Clyde waiting for us, an eager smile on his face as he handed each of us a small paper bag with silver ribbon around the top. “Won’t the rest of your guests be upset that we cut in line?” I asked.

Clyde shook his head. “VIP’s do whatever they wish. They’ll just want to get inside even sooner now that Master Temple is in the same club. It will be the talk of the town.” He said with a grin.

“Right. How did you know we were going to be here tonight?” I asked, fiddling with the bag to see what was inside.

“I didn’t. I just recognized you in the car. Almost every club in town awaits your arrival, Master Temple. Most of us have codes to follow that if you arrive, you are to be instantly treated as a VIP. Free marketing.” He motioned us inside the first door to a bouncer. The beefy man’s eyes widened upon seeing me, and then quickly shuffled us through. Clyde continued. “Our patron sponsor for this evening requests that everyone don contacts for the night’s festivities. And, since drinks are covered at his expense tonight, we expect all guests to follow such a simple request. Even VIP’s.” He smiled. “Now, if you will please put on your contacts.”

Gunnar piped up. “I do not wear contacts. I have perfect vision.” He was frowning as he held up a disposable contact case from inside the pretty paper bag.

“Already accounted for, Agent Randulf. None of the contacts are prescription strength. They’re merely part of the event.”