Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2)

by Silvers, Shayne

  The Girl Scout had arrived to steal your soul.

  Your dignity.

  And you were going to pay her to do it.

  You couldn’t find your wallet fast enough, even if you had to cancel your cable bill the next month to pay for it.

  If that wasn’t mind control, I didn’t know what was. “Will not give them my money.” I whispered in a strained voice. “Thin mints are poisoned with mind magic…” I continued, reaching for my wallet dramatically.

  Othello slapped my hand, rolling her eyes. “Stop it.”

  “Right. This just validates my hypothesis that Girl Scouts wield Demonic power. The talisman goes off as soon as they are near. And look at all their servants. Like big dumb cows, unaware of the possessed little beasts power.”

  Othello arched a brow at me. “Their parents?”

  I nodded, folding my arms. “If you want to call them that.” She rolled her eyes, turning back to the building. It seemed like there really were people inside building a float, judging by the several groups of adult minions standing outside. Sure the parents looked happy, but being a wizard, I could see through the dark mind magic controlling them. Either they were building a float or we had found their secret lair, the place with the mind control ingredients that was added to their cookies.

  Othello began to speak, her tone alarmed. “Why are they running-”

  As if in response, the side of the building instantly exploded in a shower of aged brick, a balloon of fire belching out the side like a giant forge fire. Luckily, none of the mindless parents had been standing on that side. Then the screaming began. Girl Scouts began pouring out the front doors like someone had kicked an anthill. Alleged fathers and mothers began scooping up their masters like football players before racing towards their cars. It was rather amazing how fast they vacated. Several of the girls looked sooty and terrified, but I didn’t see any injuries.

  Another blast shook the building, and a freaking box of girl scout cookies the size of a minivan flew out the open wall, wafers of burning thin mints rolling into the street, leaving trails of fire in their wake, before the giant box of cookies crashed into the street a dozen feet away from us. Shit. The girl scouts had been making a float for the Mardi Gras parade. Smoke filled the street as I heard dozens of cars turning over and peeling out of the parking lot, leaving us alone for the most part.

  A Demon like a giant, winged, hairy spider exited the building on scuttling feet, looking disappointed that no bystanders remained. Then the creature’s eight eyes locked onto our car. I instantly climbed out, and Othello put the car in park, killing the engine as she followed suit. The building crumpled on one side, another wave of bricks falling into the street as more clouds of dust cloyed the air.

  I heard Othello cock her pistol, glancing around for any remaining parents or children, but we were all alone. I smiled. That was a plus.

  The Demon launched into the air, and landed before us with a great sweep of his wings, buffeting my coat. I held up a hand to shield myself from the smoke and debris, and then lowered my arm to appraise the Demon. He was huge, and his eight arachnid legs sported dozens of pointy protrusions that sunk into the asphalt as if it were grass. My gaze wandered down and I blinked.

  “You’re a chic!”

  Her massive love pillows were out on display for the world to see, hanging freely under her body. I reached into my pocket eagerly, latched onto something, and then tossed it at her feet, clapping with approval. The leftover beads from my travels atop the stolen police horse, Xavier, the night at the bar settled near her two of her legs, and both her and Othello’s eyes moved from the beads to my face with hot glares of disapproval. They didn’t notice the additional item I had snatched out of my pocket.

  Which was the point.

  “I don’t desire trinkets. I was let out to play. My lucky day that you happened by, wizard. Any last words before I drink your blood?” The Demon asked with a sneer through dozens of clicking fangs. It reminded me of the Lord of the Rings.

  “Shouldn’t you be trying to find a way into the Armory or hurting one of my friends? Not that I’m complaining. This makes my work simpler. I can just kill you here instead of chasing you all over town.” I lifted my palm, a ring of blue fire resting there threateningly. I wasn’t going to waste time playing nice. I didn’t have time for it. Or the patience. I needed to end this threat now. Before the Demon caused more harm.

  The Demon blinked at me. “I know nothing of this Armory, but I really do have other things I would rather be killing… or is it doing? I get confused with your language. It’s really much simpler just to kill everything rather than talking about it. More fun. More natural. Well, if you’re finished talking, I’ll just finish up here and then move on to the slaughtering.” It reared up on four legs, the other four clicking in the air, ready to pounce on us.

  “You’re lying! What do you want from the Armory? Who brought you here?”

  My ring of blue fire pulsed with my anger as I took an aggressive step forward. I was ready to decimate the entire block if necessary. There was no way this was a coincidence. The Greater Demon had to have planted this Demon. While the Demon was distracted by my accusation, I adjusted the throwing knife I had taken from my pocket when I had snatched up the beads. A throwing knife that had been dipped in blessed water. I flicked my wrist and released the blade. It sunk into the Demon’s breast, right above the large dark nipple, with a burst of blue flame as holy water met hellish flesh. The Demon yowled like a drowned cat, which made me smile. I then prepared a beam of white-hot flame to cast at her, knowing the dagger wouldn’t be enough. Perhaps overkill, but I wasn’t about to waste time trading punches. I didn’t have the power for a drawn out fight.

  Then I felt a surge of power behind me, someone gathering a whole lot of magic.

  A wizard.

  A look of surprise replaced the pain in the Demon’s multifaceted eyes, and I saw a dull reflection of a blazing inferno of black flame racing towards her. I unleashed my power and dove to the side as the second jet of black fire tore through the street, melting the asphalt beneath it.

  The two spells touched for a split second, and then the ground exploded around the Demon, casting my body into a nearby building. My head struck a rearview mirror on the way, which didn’t feel great, causing a flurry of stars to fill my vision, but the whiplash prevented my skull from also striking the brick wall. Between the twinkling blossoms of light I saw that the twin fires had struck the Demon square in the chest at the same time, causing her to disappear instantly with a wail of anguish, leaving a crater of earth where the two bars of fire had not mixed together well. I touched the back of my head and winced. My fingers were bloody.

  Gavin’s voice filled the silence. “I’m not sure what you just did, but when our beams of power touched, it was quite efficient.”

  “I guess we just crossed swords.” Othello laughed aloud at my innuendo, knowing my immaturity, but Gavin didn’t seem to understand. I sighed.

  “I don’t understand what you mean. Regardless, she’s been banished back to Hell.”

  “What are you doing here? I had things under control.” I grouched, scrambling to my feet.

  “You asked me to assist, and now you complain. Which one is it?” Gavin rolled his eyes.

  “Boys.” Othello warned, very matronly.

  “Ring a bell or something. I almost offed you!” I snapped, stumbling slightly as my vision wavered.

  “Your power is almost gone, and you look like you’ve been on a weeklong bender, or the losing end of a car accident. Perhaps both. I doubt you almost ‘offed’ me.”

  I fumed. He was right, of course. “Where did you disappear to last night? We really could have used your help. Did the big bad Angel scare little old Gavin, fierce Justice of the Academy?”

  Gavin scowled back. “Too much heat. I’m not supposed to be involved at all. Especially not to aid you. Toeing off against Heaven is a pretty good way to get fired. Jafar wouldn’t se
e that as a good thing. Let alone God.”

  “Pansy.” I muttered, walking back towards the car. He and Othello followed. “Why did she lie about the Armory?” I asked, more to myself.

  Gavin apparently deemed himself important enough to answer my question.

  “It must have been lying for some reason. Then again, maybe they aren’t all here for the Armory. Maybe some were released to up the chaos factor and keep you distracted. Anyway, you’re welcome.”

  “Ordo ab chao…” I muttered to myself.

  Gavin grunted his agreement. “Order from chaos. Seems appropriate.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, he had come to the same conclusion as I had. And he had just solved a problem for me, letting me conserve my magic for a bit longer. I guess I kind of trusted him. He didn’t have to help. He could have let me battle the Demon and drain my power a bit before helping.

  But he hadn’t.

  I turned to Othello. She looked both concerned with my present injured state, and as if she didn’t quite trust the Justice before me. I couldn’t blame her. Othello wasn’t the trusting type, and his people had put me in this position in the first place. She had even advised me to kill them all. Not trusting or forgiving.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but instead collapsed to my knees, my vision tunneling to a single point on the asphalt as I threw up noisily.

  Othello was at my side, rubbing my back with shaky fingers, no doubt scared for me. “Huh. Maybe I have a concussion.” I mumbled, looking at the impressive display of regurgitated food and coffee.

  “We need to get you to a doctor. This could be bad. No offense, but you’ve kind of gotten your ass kicked for a few days in a row now.” She advised. Gavin laughed at that, but quieted under Othello’s glare.

  I shook my head slowly, careful not to throw up again. “Ain’t nobody got time for that. We have somewhere to be.” I said guardedly. Gavin rolled his eyes, but Othello nodded in agreement of my elusive response.

  The sound of sirens began to wail in the distance, heading our way. The parents must have called the explosion in. I wasn’t about to sit around and attempt to explain what had really happened, so I decided it was time to rabbit. I was fairly confident in the ability of Regulars to apply a totally logical, but incorrect, explanation for the explosion. Despite what some might have actually seen. No one wanted to admit they saw a Demon blow up the evil Girl Scout headquarters. The scorched ring in the pavement from a nearby Thin Mint tugged at my attention. Who knew what was in Thin Mints anyway. Perhaps it really was flammable. Or it was a gateway to another dimension.

  The seventh circle of hell, perhaps.

  I was also allegedly kidnapped, and couldn’t afford to be discovered wandering the streets with a concussion and a palette of fresh bruises. I motioned for Othello to start the car. She shook her head in resignation. Gavin threw up two fingers as if to say Deuces.

  I flipped him the bird over my shoulder.

  He chuckled, and then disappeared with a loud crack, Shadow Walking to wherever he spent his time when not tailing me.

  Chapter 26

  T he massive oaken door to the Armory opened on now familiar creaky hinges. We stepped inside, welcoming the exotic warmth of the place.

  Hope’s pleasant voice called from the balcony. “Your power is almost gone, my host.” Othello gasped, not realizing how rapidly I had been burning through my reserves, and apparently not having taken Gavin’s earlier words to heart. She must have thought he had been lying.

  I waved Othello’s concern away, nodding in resignation to Hope. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Othello knew the stakes I was playing for. “Yes.”

  “You have many gifts at your disposal that could… even the score. But know that the path you are on is a dangerous one. Before seeking out revenge, dig two graves. Yet you still wish to proceed.” Although it hadn’t been a question, I nodded. “Even after I have shown you what unchecked rage can do? I fear what happened to the brave Achilles may repeat itself through you.” I didn’t respond. She studied me thoughtfully, tapping her lip. “Like your Mardi Gras festival, there is magic in masks….” She finally continued cryptically.

  “Not many choices, and fortune cookie answers don’t help.” I grumbled.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Seeing that I still didn’t understand her implication, she continued. “If you are unwilling to arm yourself with your new arsenal, then death seems the only solution available. Yet, there are many ways to die. To die heroically is honorable. And despite what you may think, death is not always eternal… seeking death has been a favorite repast of many young heroes.”

  I shivered at that. I wasn’t eager to die armed with nothing but a hope for what came next. I also didn’t want to die without seeing Indie again. I might not get that option though. I sensed Othello watching me brood, so shrugged my shoulders. Despite the temptation, I declined Hope’s offer. “It would be too dangerous. I don’t know what I would be unleashing. The things in here are dangerous. They were put here for a reason.”

  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 lif
etime 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.