I was digging my fingernails into his back, shaking in confusion. “H-how,” I stammered in a hoarse whisper, my eyes latching onto Solomon. Richard the lion folded his arms with a sigh, but seeing Cain and I seemed to douse his anger significantly, and a smile tugged at the corners of his leonine lips.
Cain detached himself from my fingers with a murmured complaint, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his smile was radiant.
“Apparently, they had a test for me as well,” he admitted. “Although no one told me about it ahead of time.” He noticed the fast-approaching nervous breakdown on my face and squeezed my shoulders reassuringly. “It’s okay. You did it. This isn’t a dream. My trial was to prove…” he paused, sucked in a deep breath, and then let it out, meeting my eyes with an inner pride that made my heart melt. “That I could be a good big brother. That I was willing to sacrifice my life to save my sister.”
I lost it. I hunched over, collapsing in on myself, and wept into my hands. The ugly, uncontrollable kind of crying that no man should ever have to see.
Phix hissed at Cain. “Great job, you hairy lummox.” She curled a paw to warp around my waist and tugged me back protectively against her side. Then she began pawing at the floor like cats do, sheathing and unsheathing their claws in a repetitive motion. Except her claws scored the marble floor as she did it.
“No,” I mumbled between sobs. “I’m just so…” I trailed off, unsure what exactly hit me the hardest. Overjoyed to learn that Cain wasn’t dead. Furious that Solomon had lied to me. Proud of Cain’s absolution. Confusion at our location. That Phix—the real Phix—was somehow here and acting overprotective…
I smiled at Cain, wiping at my face. “I’m so proud of you. And…” I reached out and slapped him in the face as hard as I could. The sound rang out like a gunshot, and Richard grunted satisfactorily. I scowled at the lion. “Watch it, Dick. You’ve got one coming, too, and I feel an army in my fist…” I warned.
Solomon grinned. “Friedrich Schiller. Nice.”
I gave him a look that shouted he had one of his own slaps brewing. He nodded in understanding, accepting responsibility for his own actions in this.
Cain’s cheek was bright red, but he was smiling. “Worth it,” he said. And I knew he wasn’t talking about the slap. He was telling me that sacrificing himself for me had been worth it—even if he wouldn’t have made it back.
I lowered my eyes, trying to regain my breathing. “Thank you, brother,” I whispered. “Now get over here and let me wipe my face on your shirt. It’s the only other thing brothers are good for, so you might as well get it over with,” I told him.
In answer, he wrapped me up in another hug, petting my hair as he held me close.
I let it all out. All the pain, the sorrow, the relief…and I wiped the results all over his shirt.
“I’m sorry I didn’t kill Samael,” I told him. “But you can bet your ass I’m hunting him down soon,” I promised him.
Cain grunted. “If you had, I wouldn’t be here right now,” he said in a soft voice. My eyes widened in disbelief. Then they shot to Solomon, demanding an explanation.
He nodded simply. “The Temple chose to treat your trial like a team effort. By bringing Cain to the fountain, you altered the trial, altered the rules. Without Cain’s sacrifice, you would have failed or died—either against Samael or in one of the next Doors. Without your choice to abandon vengeance and power, Cain’s death would have been final. The prize demands it,” he said, holding up his hands to signify the balcony around us. Then he turned back to me. “But I would have made the same decision were it up to me. Your newfound epiphany to become siblings in all but blood was the perfect test of your moral fortitude, your discretion, and your dignity. You passed, and were permitted entrance here.”
As angry as I was, I had the feeling he was not lying or being cruel. I shivered, realizing where we were for the first time.
“Solomon’s Temple…” I breathed incredulously.
“Welcome home, my great-great-great…” he waved a hand absently, tacking on a bunch more greats. “Granddaughter.”
I dipped my head at him, not entirely sure how I felt to call him family. I hadn’t anticipated meeting the bastard. I’d just wanted to rob his house for answers on my past. Which made things awkward.
“No offense taken,” he said, smiling directly at me. “Don’t worry. I can’t read your mind. But your face speaks very loudly.”
I decided not to try denying it. The cards were on the table, and after what he had put me through—put us both through—I wasn’t too concerned about his feelings.
I turned to the lion, remembering all the things he had done to piss me off. “You, Richard, are a Dick.”
In response, he abruptly shimmered, becoming a tall, muscular Asian man…
I blinked incredulously. “You!”
He smirked. “Glad you liked the rosé.”
I sputtered, stammered, and then finally took a deep breath. “Why?” I asked him.
“I had to find a way to show you my illusions. The fountain. The Sons of Solomon.”
I held up a hand. “The Sons of Solomon…aren’t real?” I asked, really considering hitting him in the face. I heard Cain’s knuckles cracking, and I remembered how troubled he had been when they hadn’t bled on his dagger.
Richard shrugged. “Once upon a time, yes. But they have been defunct for centuries. But people never believe that secret societies fade away, so we just keep using their name, adding to their mystery.”
I rubbed at my temples, reminding myself that I shouldn’t kill him. Yet.
He went on without remorse. “With the Angels and Samael hunting you at every turn, and Nameless watching your every move, I saw no way to lead you—and only you—to the fountain. But my efforts were in vain,” he said, frowning at Cain. “Samael has been—at times—conversing with Nameless. Regardless of how fiercely Nameless resisted,” he said, sounding impressed. “It’s almost a wonder he ever Fell.”
I shuddered at the barrage. To realize that Samael had been tracking me, even if only occasionally, and that Nameless had tried to fight back…I glanced down at my thumb.
And froze.
The shadow ring was gone.
I looked up, my eyes wild. Solomon lifted his hand to show me the Seal of Solomon. Then he tossed it to me, underhanded. “I put him back where he belongs for you. Couldn’t have one of them showing Samael where you were. And it will take some time for you to learn how to do it yourself,” he told me.
I stared down at the Seal, then at my thumb, shaking my head. It felt…surprisingly empty. I hadn’t realized how heavy it had been. “Thank you,” I murmured, not knowing what else to say.
At least I had one less thing for Michael to worry about.
I gasped, glancing about for the Spear. “Where is it?”
“Inside of you, of course,” Solomon said, smiling at my panic. “But it’s resting, like you were a few minutes ago. Try taking it out now and you’ll pass out. It needs time to heal. Perhaps a long time. It went through much in the Doors.”
I stared at him, suddenly anxious as I remembered Michael’s warning. “Is it going to be okay? Is it broken, or did I actually fix it?”
Solomon debated that, thinking hard on the answer. “Only time will tell. But…” he paused significantly, making sure I was paying close attention. “The white blade has found its sheathe.”
And he pointed directly at me.
Oh.
Well…
“Let’s just wait to see what it looks like when it finally wakes up,” Solomon smiled.
I nodded, turning back to Richard. There had been only one thing I had really wanted to ask him, and it had nothing to do with the trial. He let out a breath as if knowing my question.
“Why were you at Abundant Angel the night of the storm?”
He stared down at his feet for so long that I began to grow angry, but when he looked back up, I was
surprised to see an anguished look on his face. “I was trying to find your mother. She had abandoned the Seal, hiding it in Kansas City somewhere. I could sense that much, but not where she had hidden it.…I was chasing rumors the night of the storm, rumors of a powerful wizard creeping through the streets. Because Shepherds were hunting her.” he said in a haggard voice.
I almost gasped. Fabrizio. He was talking about Fabrizio. And…my mother had hidden the Seal of Solomon in Kansas City? In the underground cavern where I had found it? That meant…I’d walked in her footsteps…
Richard continued, not sensing my sad, but happy smile. “Constance was using some kind of spell that prevented me from finding her. I didn’t even know she was with child, let alone that I saw the baby with my own eyes! Watching as the pastor opened the door and wraped you in his arms. I had no idea, so fixated on finding your mother. That protection that kept her from me, also kept you from me. I only discovered your existence—and the realization that you had been at that very church the same night as me—when you used the Seal of Solomon for the first time.”
His shoulders sagged as Solomon stepped up beside him. He also looked pained as he placed a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “We saw you outside your own church…the night you bound Nameless. Do you remember?”
I nodded, misty eyed at the pain in Richard’s voice and the look on Solomon’s eyes. “Yes.” They had been standing on a nearby rooftop.
“That was the first time we realized that our Constance…had a beautiful baby girl. You have no idea how happy that made us. And for us to see you for the first time in a moment of victory. Right after you bonded a Fallen Angel, all on your own,” Solomon said, shaking his head in wonder. “Your mother would be so incredibly proud. I know I was.”
Richard nodded vehemently. “She would be honored to see the woman you have become. I just wish your circumstances had been different. That we had been able to save you at a younger age. That we could have been there for you…”
Solomon smiled suddenly. “Perhaps I could show you your mother’s old room…”
My jaw dropped to the floor, but Phix interrupted before I could answer him.
“Not to crash the party, but this place isn’t going anywhere. Your tour will have to wait. She really needs to get back to Kansas City to see for herself…” she told Solomon meaningfully.
I narrowed my eyes angrily. Kansas City could wait a few hours. I wanted to get the damned answers I had been seeking after all the heartache I had been through, but Cain met my eyes and shook his head firmly. He looked troubled, but was trying to hide it.
Solomon turned to me, the skin at the corners of his eyes tightening. “Ah, yes. I had forgotten about that. Let me just show you how to return, Callie. You just take the Seal, and—”
“Wait. What happened in Kansas City?” I demanded. “Surely it can wait a day or two.”
Phix turned to look at me, shaking her head. “Kansas City has waited long enough for you. Because you’ve been gone for one year.”
I suddenly felt very, very cold. One year?
I calmly turned back to Solomon, barely whispering. “Can you please show me my mother’s room a different time? I need to go check on my friends…”
Solomon nodded sadly.
Callie returns in BLACK SHEEP… Subscribe to my NEWSLETTER to receive an email when it’s live!
Turn the page to read a sample of OBSIDIAN SON - Nate Temple Book 1 - or BUY ONLINE. Nate Temple is a billionaire wizard from St. Louis. He rides a bloodthirsty unicorn and drinks with the Four Horsemen. He even cow-tipped the Minotaur. Once…
(Note: Nate’s books 1-6 happen prior to UNCHAINED, but crossover from then on, the two series taking place in the same universe but also able to standalone if you prefer)
Full chronology of all books in the Temple Verse shown on the ‘Books in the Temple Verse’ page.
TRY: OBSIDIAN SON (NATE TEMPLE #1)
There was no room for emotion in a hate crime. I had to be cold. Heartless. This was just another victim. Nothing more. No face, no name.
Frosted blades of grass crunched under my feet, sounding to my ears alone like the symbolic glass that one shattered under a napkin at a Jewish wedding. The noise would have threatened to give away my stealthy advance as I stalked through the moonlit field, but I was no novice and had planned accordingly. Being a wizard, I was able to muffle all sensory evidence with a fine cloud of magic — no sounds, and no smells. Nifty. But if I made the spell much stronger, the anomaly would be too obvious to my prey.
I knew the consequences for my dark deed tonight. If caught, jail time or possibly even a gruesome, painful death. But if I succeeded, the look of fear and surprise in my victim’s eyes before his world collapsed around him, was well worth the risk. I simply couldn’t help myself; I had to take him down.
I knew the cops had been keeping tabs on my car, but I was confident that they hadn’t followed me. I hadn’t seen a tail on my way here, but seeing as how they frowned on this kind of thing I had taken a circuitous route just in case. I was safe. I hoped.
Then my phone chirped at me as I received a text. My body’s fight-or-flight syndrome instantly kicked in, my heart threatening to explode in one final act of pulmonary paroxysm. “Motherf—” I hissed instinctively, practically jumping out of my skin. I had forgotten to silence it. Stupid, stupid, stupid! My body remained tense as I swept my gaze over the field, sure that I had been made. My breathing finally began to slow, my pulse returning to normal as I saw no change in my surroundings. Hopefully my magic had silenced the sound, and my resulting outburst. I finally glanced down at the phone and read the text. I typed back a quick and angry response before I switched the phone to vibrate.
I continued on, the lining of my coat constricting my breathing. Or maybe it was because I was leaning forward in anticipation. Breathe, I chided myself. He doesn’t know you’re here. All this risk for a book. It had better be worth it.
I’m taller than most, and not abnormally handsome, but I knew how to play the genetic cards I had been dealt. I had fashionably shaggy, dirty blonde hair, and my frame was thick with well-earned muscle, yet still lean. I had once been told that my eyes were like twin emeralds pitted against the golden tufts of my hair — a face like a jewelry box. Of course, that was after I had filled the woman with copious amounts of wine. Still, I liked to imagine that was how everyone saw me.
But tonight, all that was masked by magic.
I grinned broadly as the outline of the hairy hulk finally came into view. He was blessedly alone — no nearby sentries to give me away. That was always a risk when performing this ancient right-of-passage. I tried to keep the grin on my face from dissolving into a maniacal cackle.
My skin danced with energy, both natural and unnatural, as I manipulated the threads of magic floating all around me. My victim stood just ahead, oblivious of the world of hurt that I was about to unleash. Even with his millennia of experience, he didn’t stand a chance. I had done this so many times that the routine of it was my only enemy. I lost count of how many times I had been told not to do it again; those who knew declared it cruel, evil, and sadistic. But what fun wasn’t? Regardless, that wasn’t enough to stop me from doing it again. And again. Call it an addiction if you will, but it was too much of a rush to ignore.
The pungent smell of manure filled the air, latching onto my nostril hairs. I took another step, trying to calm my racing pulse. A glint of gold reflected in the silver moonlight, but the victim remained motionless, hopefully unaware or all was lost. I wouldn’t make it out alive if he knew I was here. Timing was everything.
I carefully took the last two steps, a lifetime between each, watching the legendary monster’s ears, anxious and terrified that I would catch even so much as a twitch in my direction. Seeing nothing, a fierce grin split my unshaven cheeks. My spell had worked! I raised my palms an inch away from their target, firmly planted my feet, and squared my shoulders. I took one silent, calming breath, and then heaved
forward with every ounce of physical strength I could muster. As well as a teensy-weensy boost of magic. Enough to goose him good.
“MOOO!!!” The sound tore through the cool October night like an unstoppable freight train. Thud-splat! The beast collapsed sideways into the frosty grass; straight into a steaming patty of cow shit, cow dung, or, if you really want to church it up, a Meadow Muffin. But to me, shit is, and always will be, shit.
Cow tipping. It doesn’t get any better than that in Missouri.
Especially when you’re tipping the Minotaur. Capital M.
Razor-blade hooves tore at the frozen earth as the beast struggled to stand, grunts of rage vibrating the air. I raised my arms triumphantly. “Boo-yah! Temple 1, Minotaur 0!” I crowed. Then I very bravely prepared to protect myself. Some people just can’t take a joke. Cruel, evil, and sadistic cow tipping may be, but by hell, it was a rush. The legendary beast turned his gaze on me after gaining his feet, eyes ablaze as he unfolded to his full height on two tree-trunk-thick legs, hooves magically transforming into heavily-booted feet. The heavy gold ring quivered in his snout as the Minotaur panted, corded muscle contracting over his human-like chest. As I stared up into those eyes, I actually felt sorry… for, well, myself.
“I have killed greater men than you for less offense,” I swear to God his voice sounded like an angry James Earl Jones.
“You have shit on your shoulder, Asterion.” I ignited a roiling ball of fire in my palm in order to see his eyes more clearly. By no means was it a defensive gesture on my part. It was just dark. But under the weight of his glare, even I couldn’t buy my reassuring lie. I hoped using a form of his ancient name would give me brownie points. Or maybe just not-worthy-of-killing points.
The beast grunted, eyes tightening, and I sensed the barest hesitation. “Nate Temple… your name would look splendid on my already long list of slain idiots.” Asterion took a threatening step forward, and I thrust out my palm in warning, my roiling flame blue now.
Sinner: Feathers and Fire Book 5 Page 25