Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1)

by Shayne Silvers

  “Nate, this is definitely crossing the line.”

  I argued back, ready. “It’s registered to me with you as a co-owner. Should be fine. Just take the keys. Public transportation would cramp our style tonight.”

  “I will be fired for this. You ready for your chauffeur?” He asked, resigned.

  “If you please.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then I’m afraid I must insist.”

  “Twenty minutes then, asshole.”

  “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

  He hissed. “You do realize that this call is probably being recorded, right?”

  “Of course. My company provided the tech, pro bono. See you soon.”

  He sighed on the other line. “Nate?”

  “Yes.” I answered carefully.

  “Thanks.” It sounded like he had been tortured into saying that single word.

  “Men don’t say ‘thanks.’ That’s gushy girl talk. Just drive the shit out of it when necessary. It’s really just an insurance policy for our survival. The way you drive anyway.” I knew I was supposed to be staying out of the investigation into my parents’ murder, as Turner Locke had informed me, but I couldn’t just leave this on Gunnar’s shoulders. It was my responsibility too, and I knew shit would hit the fan soon, and he would need my help.

  “Asshole.” He muttered. “By the way, I’ve tried calling your dragon hunter a few times, but he hasn’t answered. I also can’t find a speck of dirt on him, let alone any hard facts. Think it’s an alias? Have you heard anything?”

  I began to speak when my phone beeped. I looked down. “Huh. Speak of the devil. I think that’s him on the other line. Be here in twenty and I’ll tell you what I find out.” He grunted and I clicked over.

  “The very magnificent Master Temple at your service. How can I assist you, you wicked dragon hunter, you?”

  He growled back. “We haven’t had much luck hunting any dragons, where it seems you’ve been doing nothing but that.” He didn’t sound pleased.

  “Need me to train you on my extensive skills? So far I count two, possibly three dead at my hand.” I fudged the number a bit, because technically, Peter had killed Raven, but Tomas didn’t need to know that. “And I haven’t even been trying.”

  “Your survival skills are rather impressive, but I seem to remember a net launcher saving the city of St. Louis from having a wizard shaped smear on her sidewalk yesterday.” He said suggestively.

  “So it wasn’t Spiderman. Damn.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Listen, I’m kind of busy. Need the lesson or not?”

  He grunted. “We’re fine. But it seems they really have a hard-on for you. If we had simply been following you around, our job could have been over by now.”

  “You mean your contract would be finished.”

  He was silent for a minute. “Perhaps.”

  “Who hired you? Because I’m sure that would give us one of those clue things that seem to help one understand complicated situations.”

  “Not important.” He answered immediately.

  “Okay, fine. Does the eclipse have any significance to you?”

  A longer silence. “Perhaps. Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know if it is related, but shortly after we had our pleasant introduction, I found a note my father had left me, warning me of the eclipse.”

  “How cute. Your father left you a napkin note, and you think it’s relevant. Typical-”

  “It was written in his own blood…”

  I felt him stiffen through the phone. “I apologize. I know what it’s like to have a family like yours, and to suddenly lose the patriarch. My family is very old, tracing our lineage back to the crusades.”

  “Uh-huh.” I answered, not hiding my boredom. My laptop chimed behind me.

  “You don’t sound surprised…”

  “Hold on a minute, if you would be so kind.” I answered, clicking the email open on my laptop. After a long password, I opened the encrypted file from Othello, and read quickly, catching the highlights. “Tomas Mullingsworth … Ex RN. I thought you said you were from Brooklyn?” I added curiously. Silence answered me. “Served in Afghanistan. Much redacting, but wait…” I made the false sounds of heavy typing and then came back. “Questionable operations: Three. Drunken bouts with superior officers: seven.” I paused. “Really? That’s quite impress-”

  His voice was full of rage. “How dare you? That is personal information.”

  I let the silence build, his furious huffing the only sound between us. “My life is quite personal to me. And when it has been close to taken a handful of times in a span of days shortly after meeting with your targets, I decided it wise to learn more about all the players involved. Was I wrong? Would you have done any different?”

  The silence built, and then he let out a breath. “You are a very dangerous man, Master Temple. I see why some have declared this city ‘Poach-free.’ Your research seems quite extensive. No one has ever been able to redact that information, let alone find it. I made sure it was buried. Deep.”

  “Never deep enough for me, Tomas, and you should remember that. This is my being polite.”

  “Good to know. Now, what do you want?”

  “The eclipse. Ring any bells?”

  “Not directly, but I have heard stories. Legends, really. Some dark ritual the dragons have been searching for. But they have never found what they need to perform it. I don’t know exactly what they need, what they seem to be missing.”

  “I think it’s safe to say that they have discovered it somewhere near my city.”

  He grunted. “But I don’t know what this has to do with my mark. I have heard neither hide nor hair of him since we arrived. Just a trail leading here, and then nothing.”

  “Tell me about him.” I said carefully. “If you trust me. Perhaps we can help each other. I just want this all to stop, I don’t care who gets credit for it.”

  “I was hired to take out a rogue black dragon. Sometimes he goes by the name Raego. Ever heard of him? Seen him?”

  I shook my head, and realized he couldn’t see me. “No.” I searched Othello’s documents for the name, but came up with nothing. “Why would your client want him dead? Or whatever it is you do.”

  “Questions aren’t part of the job. Just the money for a head. I have never met a good dragon, so it is pretty cut and dry. But this one is dangerous. Comes from an old family. Have you ever heard of a black dragon?” He asked me very slowly.

  I could sense the seriousness, so I kept my answer formal. “No, but I’ve recently seen a rainbow of others. Even silver.”

  “Yes, I heard about that one on the news. Also very dangerous. But nothing compared to the black.”

  “I was on the news?” I asked, surprised.

  “Yep.” He let the silence build, but I knew Gunnar was on the way.

  “I’ve seen a red one spit fire.” I added.

  He growled, a familiar sound from Tomas, I was beginning to realize. “We almost had that one on the courthouse until that crazy old man harpooned her with a lightning stick. He one of yours?”

  “Yes.” I answered carefully.

  “Damn. Maybe we should have you teach us a thing or two. You’re mighty resourceful for a Noob dragon slayer.”

  “I’m mighty resourceful with anyone who tries to kill me. Whether I know dick about them or not.” He laughed deeply. “I saw the yellow one create oily fire. And the silver one could spit bullets in all sorts of shapes and sizes.” I thought back. “And they all had some kind of mind control power. Is that common?”

  He was quiet for a few seconds, and I realized he was taking a drink, obviously something stiff because his voice came back raspy. “Not common at all.”

  “So you’re saying that the first dragons I have ever encountered are uber-dangerous? Cream of the crop murderers?”

  “Seems that way.”
/>   Of course they were. “Okay, so what’s so special about the black one?”

  He took another drink, and then he spilled his words in a rush. “It is said, because I have never met someone who has survived one, that they can bend shadows, appearing and disappearing at whim. Their mind magic is so subtle and powerful that their victims won’t realize until days later that they have acted any different than normal. They can melt fire, petrify with a look, shape-shift into different people entirely, mind-fuck other dragons, et cetera, et cetera. Point being, the most dangerous of the bastards. Do you have any idea what kind of reputation a kill like that could make?”

  “If he is guilty, of course.”

  “Right, I show up in town hunting rumors of the most badass dragon in centuries, and all of a sudden you have a reptile dysfunction in your city.”

  I began laughing. “Nice. I will have to remember that.”

  Tomas grunted in pride before continuing. “A flock of lady dragons murdering and pillaging for no reason. Probably just a coincidence.”

  “Harem.” I corrected.

  “What?”

  “I like to think of them as a harem. A bunch of females at your beck and call? Harem, definitely a harem.”

  “Fine, a harem.” He chided, sounding upset he hadn’t come up with it himself.

  “But why would a book be so important to them?” I pondered aloud.

  Tomas was quiet. “A book? Is that what this is all about? Why they’ve been killing all you nerds?”

  “See? Information trading is beneficial. And I am one rich, motherfucking nerd, thank you very much.”

  “Spill it, Temple.”

  “Each one I have encountered, or scene the aftermath of, was searching for a book. The Sons of the Dying Sun. Does that mean anything to your extensive knowledge on dragons?” I mocked.

  “Can’t say that it does. Do you think it’s what they have been searching for all this time? For their ritual?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest.” I admitted. “But it seems awfully important to them. Enough to risk losing a few of his flock to the local wizard billionaire.”

  “Billionaire?” He gasped. “Why in the hell aren’t you in Bora Bora, fucking, drinking, and fucking your problems away?”

  “Already done as much of both as I could before becoming a local nuisance.”

  “Damn. You do this for fun then?”

  “To be honest, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. The first dragon just kinda stumbled into my lap.” I remembered that first encounter and grew angrier. “She pissed me off by destroying a treasured tome. One of a kind type of book.”

  “Did you just say the word tome?” He asked, barely containing his laughter.

  “It is what an educated man calls those flippy, heavy things with pieces of paper and strange symbols inside. They also have some with pictures, but those are usually not called tomes.”

  “Alright, Merlin.” He chuckled.

  I scanned the email from Othello, catching Hermes name a few times. Interesting. “I haven’t been able to find much on this book. Barely that it even exists. Just mentions and vague references, but no hard facts. I didn’t think I would be even that successful, or they would have undoubtedly found it by now.”

  “True.”

  I heard Indie shout my name from downstairs. “I gotta run, Tomas. I’ll be visiting Artemis’ Garter tonight, a club in the Central West End. Judging from my track record, no doubt I’ll run into some interesting people there. You should have men there just in case, that way you aren’t bitching at me tomorrow about stealing your glory and all that.”

  He laughed for a long time. “No way. You’re picking there to hang out in the middle of all this? You really are a reckless bastard.”

  I frowned. “Never been there, but it has an open roof, which is good for quick escapes. And Artemis is the moon goddess, so it fits.” I offered.

  “Whatever. See you there.” He laughed again as he hung up.

  Why did everyone laugh at my choice of locale? Guess I would find out later. I gathered up my things, pocketed my phone, and raced down the stairs. Indie was watching me curiously. I fingered her thong in my pocket and shot her a smile, revealing a bit of the thin satin so that only she could see. “I will return them to you as soon as I am able, my lady.”

  “Such a gentleman,” she cooed. “Like the note?”

  I simply stared back, undressing her with my eyes. My look must have worked because her cheeks tinted the slightest red. I used a bit of magic to pinch her behind, and she squeaked. “I shall see you soon.” I laughed.

  “Quite literally.” She winked back seductively so that only I could see.

  Alex looked back and forth between us, apparently not understanding. “You two are acting kind of weird.” He said, but appeared aloof to our true conversation. Indie intended for me to see quite a bit more of her soon. It sounded like a good idea to me.

  “There’s a monstrosity of a vehicle parked diagonally in front of our store. Just because he has a badge doesn’t mean that he gets to block your customers from the entrance.” Indie grumped, very manager-like.

  “Agreed. I’ll file a complaint with the FBI.” I bolted out the door and saw Gunnar pressing buttons on the dash, a look of pure joy on his face. He was early. The silver SUV gleamed in the sun, shiny rims, and military-grade tires lifting the body up high. I slid inside with aid of the ‘oh-shit’ bar just above the inside of the passenger door and smiled back at him.

  “This is so cool!” He grinned.

  “Glad you like it. The manager of Plato’s Cave would like to file a complaint against the FBI for a terrible parking job that is blocking my front door from customers.”

  He smiled back. “Call Captain Kosage, I’ll just run his little ass over with my shiny new tank.” I laughed, nodding. “Temple Industries?” He asked loudly, pressing a button.

  I began to answer when the Navigation unit spoke back. “Estimated trip duration, twenty minutes. Please buckle your seatbelts.” Gunnar pounded the wheel like a child with his new favorite Christmas toy and took off.

  Chapter 26

  M y dress shoes clacked against the floors as I strode down the marble hallway of my new palace, Temple Industries. Receptionists, scientists, engineers, mail clerks, and lower peasants all, gawked openly as their new CEO meandered through the halls, hopelessly lost. I had been too stubborn to ask for help, and my minions had been too terrified to hurt my pride. So we walked, Gunnar behind me, glancing here and there at different labs and offices.

  I had no fucking idea where we were.

  “So, is this the tour?” Gunnar mocked.

  I sighed, finally pointing a commanding finger at one of my new minions carrying a bundle of papers. “I need to speak with Ashley Belmont. Would you be so kind as to guide me to her office?”

  He bumped into a copier, almost dropping his stack of papers. “Me?”

  “No, the woman behind you.” Bless his heart; he actually turned around to look. When he turned back he was blushing furiously.

  “Um, follow me?” He said nervously, voice rising higher on the last word.

  “Sure thing. But let me offer a word of advice. Don’t incline your voice at the end of your sentences. Apologizing is a sign of weakness.”

  “Sorr-” He hesitated. “Right. This way then, Master Temple?” His face turned even darker as he did it again.

  “Just think on it.” I sighed reluctantly, motioning him onward.

  He led us through the labyrinth of offices and labs, zigzagging this way and that until he finally came to a set of thick black doors and a desk. An aged receptionist glared at him, and then us. “Appointment?”

  “No.” I answered, feigning frustration.

  “Miss Belmont is rather busy, what with that rapscallion Temple son doing nothing around here. I swear. If he walked in right now, I would give him a piece of my mind. It just isn’t right to run
a company like this.” I nodded back. The tour-guide looked about ready to swallow his tongue, but remained silent out of corporate fear. “Be that as it may, you need an appointment. Honestly, I don’t know how you got in here without beeping somebody.” She arched her neck to study Gunnar. “He looks like a cop. Is that why you’re here? A couple upstart detectives looking for a case-breaker? Well, you can just leave like all the others. Appointments are like the Ten Commandments around here. Followed to a T.” She leaned back, face smug with satisfaction.

  I smiled, unable to help myself. “I hear all sorts of things about this Temple son. Is he as bad as all that? Have you never seen him before?” Gunnar and the tour guide stiffened as one, not wanting to be a part of the conversation.

  “Off the record?” She asked, squinting her eyes. I nodded. “I hear he’s into all sorts of depraved acts. Why, I hear he even…” She glanced around to be sure we were alone. She lowered her voice, leaning forward. “Has premarital sex. Frequently. With all types of women. It isn’t right. It just isn’t. He needs a strong role model. He needs to be here running his company. I hear he even smokes and drinks. Bah. If he were my son, I’d grab him by the ear and teach him a thing or two. That’s what I’d do. But who listens to old Greta? Nobody, that’s who.” She composed herself, patting her coffered hair. “Now, names and identification, please. I will schedule an appointment at Miss Belmont’s earliest convenience.”

  I strode forward, grinning like an idiot. The tour guide looked apoplectic, searching for an immediate escape. I handed over my driver’s license with Gunnar’s on top. She scanned his and opened her planner, flipping pages a few weeks ahead knowingly, speaking aloud. “There is an opening in three weeks on Wednesday. Shall that work, Agent Randulf, and…” Her eyes widened, looking up at me, horrified. “Master Temple!”

  “The one and only.” I grinned.

  “Oh, bother! An old lady does have a loose tongue!”