Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1) (6 page)

M
y friends stood beside me now, alarmed. Each syllable of her words was laced with magical seduction. Emphasis on
magical
. “You must read a fair bit, Temple.”

Gunnar’s eyes weighed me. “I thought you were the only one who read ancient crap like that. And how did she hear you?” He whispered.

The woman took several slow, seductive steps towards the main floor, hips swaying deliciously. She made it hard to focus. “I hear many things,
Wulfric
. But be a good doggy, and speak only when spoken to.” Gunnar’s jaw dropped further. She continued without missing a beat. “What kind of bookstore do you run, Temple?” She picked up a copy of
Atlas Shrugged
on a display case at the bottom of the stairs. “This isn’t even a first edition.” A slimy, oily fire suddenly spread from her fingertips, smothering the priceless tome. “Oh, my mistake. It was.” The book crumbled to ash in seconds. What the
hell
kind of power was
that
?

I was sure that Gunnar comprehended the ancient appellation she had given him, as he was very adept at his Norse heritage.
Wulfric
translated to
Wolf King
. Treading carefully, I chose civility. Courtesy was a good bet when dealing with ancient magical beings — courtesy or raw power.

Having chosen the latter with the Minotaur, I gambled on the former this time.

“We’re closed for the evening, Madame. Pray come back in the morning, and I’ll allow you to pay for the damage to my book.”

“Hmmm… But a girl can’t be too patient. She wants
what
she wants…
when
she wants it.” She dropped her cloak, revealing utterly nude ivory skin, unblemished, and perfectly contoured with pleasant curves. I tried to mask my surprise… and lustful admiration. I was confident that I had never seen a body look so good. “But I do know how to repay a favor, bookkeeper.” Her hand crept between her legs, skimming her round breasts in the process, her nipples instantly tightening. A small moan escaped her lips, and her eyes became glassy. My pants tightened instinctively, and her moan grew lustier, as if she had somehow sensed my reaction.

Her eyes came back to mine, and I realized for the first time that her pupils were not circular. Not human. They were horizontal slits, and her irises were a vibrant yellow. The exact same shade as the oily fire she had used to incinerate my book. Remembering that touch helped me regain focus like a cold shower would a pubescent boy. “I am seeking a book. An ancient family tome, titled
Sons of the Dying Sun
. Find it for me, and your
payment
will be…
climactic
.” She flashed me a sultry grin.

Her voice threatened to overwhelm me with more than mere words. She was using old magic. Powerful magic. I felt erotic fingers massaging the deeper areas of my brain, coaxing me to listen and obey her as she so adroitly caressed the pleasure centers. A quick glance at my friends revealed they weren’t faring well with the battle for self-control. Their feet began to carry them to the doorway leading downstairs. I laced my own voice with magic, hoping to break whatever spell she was casting. But her power grew thicker, stronger. I decided to stop speaking polite Old English. “I will keep my eye out, but I am not a big fan of creepy, naked women showing up at my place of business… despite contrary rumors.”

She grinned again, her magic growing ever thicker, as if flexing, but I continued, silently halting her with every ounce of power I had. I could feel my control slipping, wanting nothing other than to rip my clothes off and meet her downstairs for a quickie. Or a longie. Whatever she would allow. I noticed sweat on my temples, and momentarily imagined her licking it away and I froze. Fuck that. I lashed out with my power, no longer playing defense, and cut through hers like a blade. It snapped back into her with force, causing her to stumble back and glare up at me. Gunnar and Peter shook their heads dumbly, eyes dilated. My hands were shaking with the effort. “This is quite unprofessional, and I am, in fact, in the middle of a business meeting. Come back tomorrow and I will see what I can do for you.”

“A shy wizard. Very well. If you don’t like an audience, I’m sure I could persuade them to leave for you.” She whispered coyly. Her magic came back faster, and stronger, the very air quivering. Each of my friends sagged at the sudden onslaught. Jesus, she was
strong
! I had never practiced much mind magic, but hers terrified me. Without my help, my friends would become drooling sycophants to her every whim.

With a crack of power that made one of the windows panes shatter, I broke her spell a second time, and my friends visibly stumbled as they were released. I let out a breath. Gunnar tossed his gun onto the couch, thumbing his tattoo in anticipation as he risked a glance at me. What
was
she? I hadn’t ever heard of mind magic like this before, but apparently I was strong enough to simply outmuscle her. That or I was damn lucky.

“We can chat in the morning, but for now, leave. Twice asked.” I said.

“We
demand
your service.” The tone of her voice was damn intimidating. We?

“Why do you need my help? Have you checked amazon.com yet?” I snapped.

Her eyes tightened. “We want what is ours, and will tolerate neither thieves nor bystanders. I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but I’m sure your friend already has an idea what we’re wiling to do to reclaim our property.” She winked at Gunnar. His face slowly grew pale in recognition, as if he had suddenly made a grim connection in his mind.

I used the only name she had offered. “You see, Raven, I’m not that good with demands. And right now you are trespassing.”

“
Raven
… I like it.” She sniffed the air and then froze. “Why does it smell like-” Then her entire nude form stiffened as if recognizing a scent. “Him.” She hissed. “You gave it to him, didn’t you? I will floss my teeth with your guts for this, Temple.”

I stared back, lost. “Um, what?”

“Don’t lie to me!” She shrieked, chest heaving. She must have mistaken my confusion for concealment. “So be it. I will just have to see for myself if your last scream resembles that of your father.” The lights went out, and a menacing cackle erupted from the darkness.

My rage jumped at the unexpected mention of my father.
What did she know
?

Then all hell broke loose, and I quickly discovered that Karma is indeed a bitch.

Chapter 7

S
everal of my glass-walled-dividers imploded as she let out a feral cry that was entirely inhuman. As the carnage began, I distantly wondered about her creepy horizontal pupils, what they might signify, and whom she thought I had given her book to. I also thought of my father’s last scream at her hands, and my magic responded, filling me like a pool of frigid water.

Gunnar beat me to the stairs, leaped into the air, and
shifted
.

That was the only way I could describe it, and even having seeing it happen a hundred times or more, it was still a breathtakingly beautiful thing to behold. His clothes exploded around him, and a huge, white-haired wolf with long ivory fangs and ice-blue eyes landed gracefully at the base of the stairs a story below; the remnants of
most
of his clothes raining down like confetti, having been unable to accommodate him mutating into his full werewolf form. But over his white haired rear-end was a pair of
Underdog
spandex underwear. I blinked in surprise, momentarily frozen.
Underdog underwear
?

Peter hung back, clutching a liquor bottle in a shaky fist. But whether to drink or throw, I didn’t know. Regardless, he was wise to hang back.

I did the opposite. I was directly behind Gunnar, tearing down the stairs three at a time, whipping up all sorts of nasty to dish out on this bitch. But all
my
power was invisible. No pretty shape-shifting for the wizard. No one could see all the beautiful raw energy surrounding me, dancing from my fingertips, awaiting my command like a one-man rave party. As I breathed in more power, my senses magnified. Smells contained tastes, my vision was sharper, able to pierce more of the darkness, and the tactile feedback of my fingers sliding down the mahogany stair rail was as euphoric as a lover’s lips brushing an earlobe. But no one could see a damn thing for all my hard work.

The world was unfair. Gunnar had a fucking outfit, and he
still
looked cool.

“Sic her, Gunnar!” I yelled as I threw pulsing blue lights into the air around her, hoping to confuse her or ruin her night vision. Then I let loose a hurtling streak of fire towards her beautiful rack, hoping to mar her perfect nudity.

Her face began to stretch, her tongue momentarily growing longer before a flicker of hesitation crossed her eyes and she became normal again.
What the fuck
? My fire struck the wall behind her, neatly slicing through a framed movie poster as she effortlessly sidestepped and unleashed a screaming yellow ball of her own fire at me. I ducked behind a divider, and the ball slammed straight through it, shards of wood and glass biting into my arms and neck. A particularly long sliver of glass sliced deep into my forearm, which instantly welled up with dark, thick blood. I grunted in pain as my whole forearm flushed with heat.

Oily fire rained down upon a table behind me, igniting a small stack of precariously balanced books. She was some flavor of shape-shifter, but with much more control than even Gunnar had. Freaky. And I still didn’t know what she had been about to shape-shift into. A demon of some kind by the looks of it. That wasn’t good. Demons were hardcore. But I didn’t have time to call for backup, despite the rules. If it was a demon, I would deal with it and apologize later.

From the shadows, Gunnar abruptly appeared in his
Underdog
undies, shattering through yet another glass divider to grab the woman by the throat. But his long ivory teeth snapped together with a loud empty
clack
as Raven dodged him and then used his momentum to throw him through yet another of my oh-so-expensive glass dividers. She grinned, slinging balls of slimy fire from her fingers after Gunnar, but he was already gone, melting back into the shadows of my store like a wraith. The fire slapped into a window, the glass spider webbing with cracks before finally shattering into the street.

I gathered my will and threw a battering ram of force straight at her smiling face. She leapt impossibly high into the air to dodge my attack, but the force caught her feet, sending her cartwheeling into the shadows with a groan of pain. I heard an immediate growl, the snapping of jaws, and then a sharp piercing whine as I saw Gunnar fly directly into the brick wall, the impact knocking a cloud of dust from the rafters high above. He struggled to his feet with another whine, shook his head, and then let out a piercing howl of rage that made my forearms pebble with gooseflesh.

Now he was pissed. Gunnar’s icy werewolf eyes latched onto mine and I took a reflexive step back, wondering if his head had been knocked loose enough to now see me as a threat. But he simply stared. I held up a finger, and motioned him to circle around the edge of the store. He slipped back into the shadows without any acknowledgement of my plan. I hoped he understood, because it would take both of us to take down this monster.

Raven cackled again. “Is this all you’ve got? And I had heard so many tales of the legendary Temples. You’re putting up even less of a fight than your parents did.” My vision went red so suddenly that I almost froze, thinking she had cast a spell of some sort on me.

But it was just rage, an emotion that I was very,
very
comfortable with.

Again I wondered what she had to do with my parents. Was she lying just to goad me? I shook my head. It didn’t matter. Her blood was mine. She was close, just behind a bookshelf ahead. “It’s time to end this farce.” Her voice cut through the darkness.

I calmly strolled around the bookshelf, coming face to face with the demon shifter. Her eyes glowed yellow in the flickering light behind me, her horizontal pupils momentarily halting my advance. She washed her hands together dramatically, more of the oily fire growing in her palms, the exact color as her irises. Then she grinned, teeth suddenly needle sharp, and threw her hands out at me. I slammed my will into the approaching scream of fire and it splattered into the clear shield of air, exploding into droplets of fire like paint on a glass wall. The heat instantly bled through the shield, lightly burning my fingertips. I rolled away as I dropped the shield, and watched as the fire fell to the ground of my shop, burning weakly. She stared at me on the ground and shook her head, disgusted, like one would at a peripatetic cockroach on a kitchen floor.

Icy blue eyes trailed her every move from the shadows, but she didn’t notice. I watched, clutching my arm in real pain, fingers wet with blood, and tried to look terrified, beaten, as I struggled to crawl backwards. Her grin stretched wider as she took a single step closer, hands dripping more fire, but her fingers were now scaly yellow claws.

Then my pet werewolf slammed into her with such force that her head snapped sideways, the breath flying out of her in a rush before he slammed her into a solid oak bookshelf.