Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1) (42 page)

I had put out a few fires since the eclipse, and was still recovering in — and getting used to — my new home at Chateau Falco. I missed
Plato’s Cave
, but I couldn’t complain too much. Here I had a Butler! And Indie had delegated duties to all the employees at
Plato’s Cave
with ruthless efficiency. It was business as usual, just how I liked it.

I had managed to get a grip on my new power after an intense personal assessment. The distortion of chance was gone, which was good, as well as the leakage factor on those around me. Double good. Once I was fully healed I would have to look into it more specifically in an attempt to figure out why and how it had happened. I briefly wondered if my parents’ had done something to pass on their power to me upon their deaths, even though I thought the idea impossible. But it wasn’t important at the moment.

People and newspapers both discussed the topic of Alaric’s
coalition
openly and fearfully, but seemed pleased that it seemed to fizzle into nothing at the man’s disappearance from St. Louis’ social scene. Raego had cleverly issued a statement about Alaric moving back to Europe, complete with travel itineraries and everything. No one questioned it, thankfully. Detective Kosage had been forced to make a public statement renouncing my involvement in the recent crimes after I had put some weight on the mayor about moving my company to a new city. Kosage had been none too pleased, but no love lost there. In fact, I had no intentions of moving the company, but no one else knew that. Even if I had wanted to move the company, I had too many things to do to even entertain the thought at present. I still had to figure out what the Pandora Protocol — my parents’ secret project at Temple Industries — was, and what importance the mysterious music box held. Why had the thief stolen it?

My fingers flexed about the satin in a brief surge of anger. The thief… Peter. But had he also been my parents’ murderer? The video feed had said
Titan!
at the moment of their deaths, and I had a hard time believing that Peter would have been strong enough to take them out. Even with his new power.

And he was definitely no Titan.

A small part of me missed my old friend. Not the psychopath he had become, but the boy who had been with me since childhood. Gunnar and I didn’t talk about it, except to answer a few phone calls about him joining Alaric to Europe. Again, no one seemed to question it. Raego had come by to drop off the book that had started it all, and to discuss the topic of the break-in at my company. He had no real answers — even having met with all the dragons in town for a brief oath of fealty to their new leader — but was confident that Peter had been the thief, but not the murderer. Alaric had had no reason for their deaths, and Peter had been unable to act of his own volition without the charismatic Dragon Lord’s approval. Which meant that the murderer was still at large. But there was no one left alive to question now, what with Alaric slain by the dragon hunters.

I sighed, running the material through my fingers again therapeutically. The dragon hunters had met Raego at my home under a white flag, learning that Alaric had used them as pawns the entire time. Tomas had been disgusted at that. Their enemy had tricked them into inadvertently working for him to take out Raego. They had agreed to a truce of sorts, that is, until one of Raego’s dragons broke a law or stuck his neck out too high. Raego had smiled, nodding his wholehearted agreement.

Tory and Gunnar had healed without complications, and then promptly been fired. Of course, that wasn’t how it was worded, but the result was the same. Jeffries had been the one forced to give Gunnar the news — against his will — as Special Agent In Charge, Roger Reinhardt, leaned on him. Ah, bureaucracy. Kosage didn’t mind firing Tory. My friends didn’t mind too much, what with the new pay raise from a certain billionaire benefactor, although Gunnar’s heart did seem to break a little at the situation. So I had cleverly arranged a self-esteem boost by asking Ashley Belmont to meet me for a very important business discussion at one of the priciest and most romantic restaurants in town. Somehow I had forgotten to put anything in my planner, despite the fact that I had double-booked Gunnar to meet me at the same time and place for an altogether different business discussion. Gunnar and Ashley both showed, but I stayed home. I hadn’t heard much from either since, other than the brief text message from Gunnar hours after the appointed meeting time.
I owe you one, asshole.

Raego had informed me that Tory had been spending quite a bit of time with Misha as well. He also told me he’d been able to release her two children from their obsidian prison, and after an oath of fealty to the Obsidian Son, they seemed to be recovering nicely, wrestling all around Raego’s inherited house with Tory, of all people.

I smiled at all the happy endings, then hissed softly as I put too much weight on my healing wound. I adjusted myself, leaning back into the pillows more comfortably. Then the bathroom door opened, and a silhouette stood before me, limned by the candle light behind her and the fireplace before her. “Ready for your hourly check-up, Nate?” A sultry voice asked. Indie took a few steps closer, and my testosterone replied hungrily. She stood there in a nurse outfit, smiling darkly.

“Of course, my
good nurse
. Of course…” Flesh, hands, and lips met in a sweaty jumble, which hours later, I couldn’t quite remember accurately. But I did feel better, healed. Completely healed… Ready to soon dive back into the fray and discover the truths behind my parents’ murder.

The world was a darker place without them, but I wasn’t going anywhere, and I hoped my new team would be a benefit to society. Someone had to be there to keep everyone safe. It was our duty. We had the ability to protect the weak, so it was on our shoulders. I sympathized with the Titan, Atlas.

Indie breathed softly, asleep on my chest, her sweaty hair tickling my arms as our warm bodies melded together as one. Someone was going to pay for what they did to my parents. Dearly. But not tonight. No, not tonight.

Sleep soon pulled me under, glorious, peaceful sleep.

And that’s when the night terrors started…

***

Reviews

If you enjoyed what you've read, please head on over to
Amazon
to leave me a review. Starving artists like myself literally feed on these pesky little things, and I find myself quite hungry. Nate's future depends on you, the reader, so show some love.

Turn the page to read an excerpt of the next installment in The Temple Chronicles,
Blood Debts
, coming late 2015...

Excerpt - Blood Debts

by

Shayne Silvers

Copyright © Argento Publishing, 2015

Chapter 1

T
he gnarled oak desk quivered as a subsonic blast shook the entire room, my drink tinkling lightly between my long fingertips, the lights flickering. I blinked eyelids that seemed to weigh a ton.
What the hell was that?
Had I been asleep? I couldn’t remember the last few moments. Perhaps I had been drinking more than I thought. Indie must have already gone to bed because she wasn’t with me. And where was Dean? Surely they had each heard the sound. The hair on my arms began to pebble in response to my sudden adrenaline spike.

Then I heard the scream. Like someone was being skinned alive.

I bolted from the leather chair in my father’s old office – now
my
office – at Chateau Falco. Another distant blast shook the house as I darted out the door and onto the landing overlooking the first floor. A fiery comet suddenly screamed through the second floor window, barely missing my skull before it crashed through the banister beside me. More screams and shouts continued amidst a barrage of gunfire and explosions as I crouched, trying to ascertain where the sounds originated. After all, it was a huge fucking house. Seventeen thousand square feet was a lot of space to search. The single scream I had first heard didn’t give me any time to check on Indie or Dean. Someone was dying, right now, his or her scream full of tortured anguish. My home was under assault.

Unforgiveable.

I briefly entertained what I would do to the sad sap that dared attack my ancestral home. As I raced past empty room after empty room, aged paintings and rusty armor seemed to grimace in distaste at my lack of protection… as if I was the ultimate embodiment of failure for a once powerful family. I grunted, shrugging off the pain of those looks. It was my imagination. They weren’t
really
disappointed in me. After all, I had instantly reacted to the attack, right?
Or were you dozing through obvious signs of intrusion, awoken only by the sound of their victory in kidnapping one of your friends…
a dark voice whispered in my head. My Id is not a pleasant person. I heard the scream again, and determined that it was coming from outside… along with the incessant gunfire. I sprinted down hallways, zigzagging back and forth in an effort to get outside faster. Who was screaming? The voice was either in so much pain or so much rage that I couldn’t even determine if it was male or female, let alone human.

I finally reached the front entryway, grabbed the massive handle to the front door, and heaved hard enough to tear it from the frame as a surge of magic fueled my strength. I tossed it into the foyer behind me and launched myself into a scene straight from hell. The icy wind struck my face like a finely woven blanket of cold steel, sobering me instantly.

Dragons stormed the skies, blasting fireballs at my home from every direction. The ancestral home of the Temples was on fire, and the centuries old construction wasn’t faring well. The porte-cochere leaned drunkenly, one of the supports abruptly cracking in half. I immediately dove to safety before the roof collapsed, nearly dying before I knew what was even happening. I rolled onto the balls of my feet, scanning the darkness amidst the dust, explosions, and shouting. The fountain in the center of the drive was a pile of rubble, and bodies scattered the elegantly stained concrete. But now it was stained an altogether different color.

The color of fresh blood.

Several of my security guards lay in… pieces throughout the lawn, bodies still steaming to my magically enhanced vision. Energy danced hungrily through the air, waves of power coursing here and there like colored smoke. Power was
everywhere
… I grinned darkly. I could use that to my advantage. I saw a dragon or two also littering the lawn, betraying the fact that my security hadn’t been caught entirely off-guard, even if their Master had been dozing in his office over a glass of whisky. I shook the guilt from my head. Despite the veracity of the emotion, I didn’t have time for it. My guards knew the risks in defending my home.

Right? Had
I
even expected an attack of this magnitude?

I shivered as the guilt tried to overwhelm me again. Instead, I sprinted towards a small pocket of humans battling each other near the horse stable turned car garage a hundred feet away. I didn’t know friend from foe, but some of my men had to still be alive if these people were fighting each other. Reality seemed to suddenly shift, my vision rippling for a second. I shook my head, glancing around wildly for the attacker that was messing with my perception. But there was no one near me. After a few tense seconds, I took off again, idly spotting a small, jeweled box in the grass as I raced by. Thievery? A harem of dragons seemed like overkill for a robbery. I would worry about it later. Now was time for action. I quickly made a choice, and launched a wave of ice at the most unsavory looking group of men, hoping I wasn’t causing friendly fire. Some collapsed while others remained upright – frozen solid – but all as dead as a doornail. The remaining faces that turned to me hissed with a sneer.

Shit. Wrong group.

The survivors launched themselves at me, casting magic at me like the world was ending.

Fucking
Wizards?

I dodged the numerous elemental attacks with ease, shattering an arm at the elbow as I came within physical reach, too close for all but the most skilled wizard to use his birthright. It was my only chance. I hoped. I quickly realized I needed backup. A smile tugged at my weathered cheeks.