Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2)

by Silvers, Shayne

  They each depicted Cerberus, Hades’ pet guard dog. The beast that both protected his realm and prevented a spiritual prison break. As I watched one of them, I was suddenly ninety-nine percent sure that it blinked. I flinched as I noticed a giant drop of drool fall to the river without a splash. My friends didn’t notice, but Death shot me an amused smile.

  As I turned back to strange sounds emanating from the amphitheater, I realized it was… hopping. Big band music blared from unseen speakers. And hundreds of people were dancing. I stared in curiosity as Charon rowed us up to an ornate pier. We came to a gentle stop and Death assisted the women out of the boat, but left Gunnar and I to fend for ourselves. He nodded respectfully at Othello, appraising her in a very hungry way. No way… She seemed to notice in a very appreciative way, blushing, but said nothing. I left that alone. It was none of my business.

  Freak and let freak, I guess.

  We entered what seemed like a banquet or dance hall. And I realized that it wasn’t people dancing, but souls. And they were everywhere.

  My mortal friends simply stared. The music quieted noticeably, but didn’t stop, and the crowd of souls turned as one to watch the master of their domain and his guests enter the party. Talk about Red Carpet attention. Death cleared his throat. “I believe you said something to Othello about not going down without one hell of a fight. That you were going to cause such a ruckus dying that Death himself will shake my hand and send me back with a farewell party to get rid of me.” I felt myself shrinking a bit in embarrassment as I stared into the Horseman’s eternal eyes.

  Then he extended his hand. “Well, here’s your party, and here’s my handshake… my friend.” He said with a smile. I relaxed, and slowly reached out to shake it with a guilty smile, acknowledging the quote and his offer of friendship. Then the souls surrounding us bowed respectfully, some pointing at me with interest, before they began to step to the side to make room for us. They made an empty path across the length of the room between them, and at the end I saw two souls in particular facing the opposite direction. The crowd hushed and the two figures slowly turned.

  My heart shuddered and then stopped.

  “Mom, Dad…” I whispered.

  Death caught me before I collapsed. Indie grabbed me by the shoulders, helping Death support me.

  My mom and dad approached slowly at first, my father looking proud, and my mother full of love and… concern. Glowing tears trailed her cheeks. “My son…” she whispered. Then they were floating towards me in a dizzying blur. They abruptly halted before me and I heard Indie sobbing softly as she continued to hold me up. My legs were jelly.

  My dad gripped me by the shoulder, despite being a spirit. “It worked!” He exclaimed. I blinked, and then understood that he must be referring to my Maker ability. I held up a palm, and a ball of blue flame filled my palm as my vision was transformed with the familiar blue haze. My eyes were misty as I stared back with a weak smile. My dad grinned like only a scientist could. “We are so proud of you, my son.” He turned to the crowd of souls. “MY SON!” He roared, lifting his hands. The resulting applause was deafening, shouts of glee rattling my brain. My throat was raw. My mother latched onto me abruptly, hugging me tightly and I broke down, tears falling freely. My flame died and I hugged her back. Tightly.

  You see, I never thought I would ever get the chance to do this again. Like all stubborn youths, I had rebelled against them, pushing them out of my life to pursue my own dreams with Plato’s Cave. But it hadn’t necessarily needed to be a mutually exclusive pursuit. I could have, and should have, pursued both. But you never discovered things like that until it was too late.

  The pain.

  The guilt.

  The sadness.

  The joy.

  It broke my resolve.

  “I’m so sorry. I almost lost it all. I wasn’t there to help you. My own friend, Peter, betrayed me to rob the Armory. I don’t know if that was why the Demon killed you, or if you would have been spared without him breaking in, but it’s all my fault. I couldn’t keep it safe. The Pandora Protocol is broken, and… whom you had stored inside is now free. I failed.”

  My mother leaned back with a curious frown. I looked at my dad, who also seemed nonplussed. “The Pandora Protocol?”

  I nodded guiltily.

  Then he shrugged. “That’s not really a big deal. She’s been free before.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “The Armory was just a ruse for the Academy’s benefit. We needed something to attract their ire so they wouldn’t notice what we were truly working on. We also needed a way to free you from their clutches. Hence, the gift we gave you. The power of a Maker. Without the traditional magic, they hold no sway over you now.”

  I stared, dumbfounded, unable to speak, despite my mouth opening and closing several times. “You mean to tell me that all this was for nothing? The Armory wasn’t important?” I was huffing, sudden rage coursing through my veins. Everything had been for nothing. The death, Othello being killed, Indie’s mom being hurt.

  For nothing.

  They watched me, abashed. “It was the only way. Dark times are coming, my son. You need to be out of their control. We fear for what the Academy may do in the years to come. We gave you the tools to stand on your own two feet as an independent. The world will need you in the years to come. My Maker.” My mother added with a loving smile. “Oh, how I wish I could see Jafar’s face right now.” Her eyes gleamed maliciously.

  My anger began to fade as I remembered that I was with my parents again. Really with them. And that was all that truly mattered. “Yeah, he wasn’t too pleased about my power surge, or the fact that I’m now a Maker and not a wizard.” I pondered that. How had they known that my magic would disappear? After all, if I gained the Maker ability yet kept my magic wouldn’t I still have been under their control?

  My dad seemed to sense my question. “The reason your power spiked upon our deaths is that the Maker seed needed to feed on magic in order to survive. A very large amount of magic. It was the only way to birth the gift inside you. How long did it take for the power to dissipate?” He asked, again, like a scientist.

  “It didn’t dissipate. The Academy cursed me.”

  My dad blinked, and then… well, he burst out laughing, clapping and hooting as he did a little jig of joy.

  “What’s so funny? I almost died!”

  My dad merely wrapped me in a bear hug. “They had no idea!” He roared into my ear. “Cursing you caused your magic to deplete that much faster, making you immensely more powerful as a Maker than anything we could have done. Oh, I would love to hear Jafar explain this to his boss. Not only did he curse you, but he made your gift infinitely more powerful than we ever could have. He literally gave you an adrenaline shot for your Maker power. The seed had to feed on the magic much faster and intensely in order to survive, which made it grow exponentially faster than it should have on it’s own. You are now something that has never before walked the earth. A Maker far more powerful than any who has ever existed.” He clapped in sheer joy again, pushing me away to arms length and then pulling me back in with several slaps on the back. My mother finally shooed him away.

  I managed to reply. “Yeah. If I can figure out how to use it reliably.” I muttered. My friends were staring at me as if they had never seen me before. Death merely looked interested. I was now more powerful than he had thought. Which could be utilized by any who knew how to manipulate me. I instantly wondered how much I could trust the Rider, and again, whether he had been serious about me becoming a fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse. My resume had just beefed up considerably.

  “Don’t worry, my son. We left instructions at Chateau Falco. Everything we could discover on Makers. That was our real secret. What I said to the security camera after our death. You did see the video footage, right?” I nodded. “Good. Also, the entrance to the Armory at Temple Industries was only a secondary entrance. Which is why there was a seventeen-minute window. The pri
mary entrance at Chateau Falco has no such restrictions. You should find the Armory, more or less, as you left it.”

  I couldn’t believe it. “So this really was all for nothing. Me trying to protect the Armory from the summoner and his Demons.” They nodded, their excitement slowly fading.

  I turned away in an attempt to hide my rage.

  I almost lost it.

  Right there.

  But I was a restrained, wise, utterly in control wiz… no, Maker.

  Instead, I took a few deep breaths to regain my composure.

  I was alive. I had a woman who loved me. Everyone was safe. And I had learned a lot about myself. I wasn’t just a wielder of ancient arcane power. I was something else entirely now. When I had been pushed up against a wall without backup, magic, or money, I had persevered. Even as a penniless Regular. I found solace in that.

  I suddenly realized what the most important thing in the world was.

  It was something I’d never thought I’d have the chance to do.

  I turned back to my parents, grabbed Indie’s hand, and walked up to my mother. I scrubbed a tear from my cheeks. “Mother, Father, this is Indie. She is… very dear to me.” Indie’s eyes filled with tears, and even Gunnar grunted with overflowing emotions.

  Life wasn’t all bad. It was actually pretty good.

  Chapter 43

  W e had left the Underworld, or Hell, or wherever we had been taken after a whole lot of story telling. Death had shared his origin story with my friends. The same one I had heard in the bar. My mother ignored all of this and instead fussed over Indie like only a mother-in-law could. Giving her advice on managing my temperament. I rolled my eyes at some of her tips, but curiously found myself listening as some of it was actually quite insightful. I would have to stay on my toes from now on. Indie was gathering quite a bit of useful knowledge. My father slapped Gunnar on the shoulder and hugged Ashley upon hearing of their engagement. He also recognized the stone on the ring. It had come from one of the diamond mines I owned. The girls had all fawned over Ashley’s rock, causing Gunnar to swell with pride. My father had been very interested to meet Misha and Tory, even more so at their abilities. He had never met either flavor of supernatural before. They remembered Othello, and looked slightly nervous at her inclusion in my club, no doubt remembering our past romantic dalliances. But everyone seemed more or less accepting of that particular past, and had moved on to more important topics. To my relief, even Indie seemed less concerned about Othello than before. She even thanked Othello for watching my back when everyone else had been absent.

  Death and Othello had walked off to the side, speaking to each other silently as the rest of us continued to talk to my parents. Curiouser and curiouser. Othello had a slight spring to her step after that, but I left it alone. She would tell me if she wanted to. I had enough on my plate without digging into a possible romance. But I guess they did have the whole shared life experiences thing going for them after Othello had died and come back. It was practically like meeting the in-laws. Indie seemed downright encouraging.

  Before we left, I pulled Death aside. “Can you do me a favor?” He grinned in anticipation of what I might ask, nodding. “I need you to deliver something to a werewolf for me. You still have it? Like I asked?”

  Death began to laugh. “So that’s why you wanted me to preserve Gavin’s head. You’re one cold bastard.” He chuckled with approval. “You’re perfect for our club.” He clapped me on the back.

  I neither agreed with nor denied his statement. “I promised the wolf I would avenge his mate. Seems a fitting way to give him absolution, and Gavin deserves it.” I added with a growl.

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Oh, and put a ribbon on it.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Okay. You’re welcome back anytime.” He offered with a grin. Then he left us to say our farewells to my parents and the other souls.

  We had then retreated to Chateau Falco, and were now sipping drinks before a large fireplace. Dean and Mallory had returned from their trips and joined us, as well as Raego, at Misha’s insistence, and Agent Jeffries at Gunnar’s insistence. After the shock of my death had been proven false, things went splendidly. We had shared tales back and forth, and I was informed of the latest developments in my city. Apparently I had been dead for a few days now. Kosage had been caught lying his ass off to get me arrested in the first place, pulling strings he really shouldn’t have tried to pull. No doubt influenced by Gavin, but no one seemed to believe his story of a concerned citizen providing him information on my guilt. Especially since said citizen could not be found. Jeffries had apparently found proof that Kosage had been bribing a judge to get the warrant for my arrest, as well as blackmailing a few of the FBI Agents. All that in addition to the blackmail footage Othello had left in the file at the police station with him in drag and BDSM gear had basically shut down his career.

  Even though no one could explain how I had escaped my cell and been kidnapped, they had no proof of anything, and I hadn’t been spotted at any of the recent crimes.

  Also, I was allegedly dead. I couldn’t wait to reappear at an upcoming Gala with Indie on my arm like nothing had ever happened. Jeffries finished his story of Kosage’s downfall with a grin. “Sound good, Temple?”

  “Oh, if anyone tries to pull me back into any of this again you can bet your ass I will hire every lawyer in town to eviscerate him. I would destroy every lawman’s career… Except you, Jeffries. You’re the only honest one I’ve met. Agent Wilson wasn’t too shabby either.”

  Jeffries grinned. “I spoke with him. They won’t continue their inquiry, even after you announce your resurrection, if anyone could even call it that anyway. They even pardoned you and Gunnar for the dragon ordeal a few months ago. Gunnar has been reinstated if he wants to be. If not, he will receive honors befitting his retirement.”

  I grinned at Gunnar’s resulting smile. “I also need Agent Wilson to call and formally apologize to Indie for what his Agents did. Hanging up on her. Not letting me get my phone call.”

  Jeffries winked. “Done.”

  “Also, it seems a patrol horse found his way onto my property. Could you arrange for Xavier to be quietly and anonymously returned to the police force? No one needs to know what happened, and I will look down upon any negative consequences his handler receives.”

  Jeffries nodded, chuckling to himself. Everyone left. Except Indie.

  We made up for lost time.

  And more.

  She seemed exceptionally motivated to remind me what a catch she was. She thoroughly exhausted me. As I lay in my bed, Indie sleeping peacefully beside me, I felt a tug at my soul. Curious, I got up and wandered the mansion.

  After a while, I realized I was being drawn to my father’s old study. I sat down in the chair, and spotted the note that I had already read. It had been found on my desk when we came back. It was from Achilles. Come back any time. I want to talk to you about something. I shivered at that. Maybe later. I began fiddling with a pen, wondering about the odd sensation that had drawn me here, and it’s sudden disappearance. Was this the primary entrance to the Armory my father had spoken of? Somewhere in this room? It made sense.

  As if in response, a soft voice abruptly invaded my thoughts, sounding defeated and weakened. I’ve returned, my host. Freedom wasn’t what I thought it would be. So much pain and suffering in the world, and I fear more is yet to come. You will need me in the upcoming years. I have foreseen great devastation, and you stand at the forefront of it all. Your parents and I await your presence in the Armory whenever you are ready. I have granted them temporary access thanks to the Horseman’s… encouragement. You will need training in your gift. Only we can teach you to become The Maker.

  Then the voice trailed off. I shivered. My parents resided in the Armory with Hope…no, Pandora? Death had encouraged Pandora to grant them access?

  Then another thought hit me.

  Pandora hadn’t elaborated if I was at the forefr
ont of the impending storm because I was fighting it…

  Or causing it…

  I wandered back to bed, very, very concerned about both my new powers and the role I would play in the days to come.

  ***

  To be continued...

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  About Shayne

  Shayne is the guy itching for confrontation, oozing testosterone from more pores than the average male has room for. He is a published author of fiction novels and currently makes a living in the commercial lending realm for a nationally known bank in the Midwest. He hails from Denver, but has survived from New York City, to Miami, to Los Angeles, to Chicago, and even across the pond in London, before finally settling in Missouri where he not-so-secretly works on the global domination plan he intends to achieve by his mid-thirties.

  He holds two high-ranking black belts in the martial arts, loves coffee, drinks adrenaline before going to bed, and wishes he could share a glass of wine with Alexander the Great, Achilles, and Thomas Jefferson… at the same time. He dresses like the world is his red carpet, and is the father of a bearded baby man-ling with his wife, the Duchess of Russia. He is currently hard at work on the third installment of the Temple Chronicles, and hopes that you enjoyed reading Nate’s Story as much as he enjoyed writing it.

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