Gavin rolled his eyes. “The Key.” I took an aggressive step forward. “As you were commanded. You were also commanded to end the Demons in St. Louis. I don’t see how you believe this to be a noble reaction on your part when you are doing as commanded.”
I wanted to rip his face off. Slowly. “No one commands me, Gavin. Fucking no one.” I was literally shaking with fits of rage and utter disbelief at his piety. “Especially a bunch of hypocritical little bitches sitting safely on the sidelines. I would rather slit my wrists than be associated with scum like you. You literally sat there and watched as a Demon fought me for your precious Key. Were you waiting for him to end me so that you could run to your boss and get a promotion for how good of a boy you had been? Pathetic. I’m finished with the Academy. You’re a stain to honor everywhere.”
Gavin slammed his fist into his thigh. A pulsing greenish light slammed into the ground and hurtled towards me, knocking me clear on my ass. I jumped to my feet ready to fight, but he still stood in the same spot, and looked… slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have attacked you.”
I blinked.
He took a deep breath. “I don’t appreciate anyone making a mockery of my life’s work.” He shifted from foot to foot. “However, I understand your frustrations. Working as a Justice hasn’t been… exactly as I thought it would. I too sense… darkness in our purpose. It used to be as you say, honorable, but now, I’m not so sure. I see a lot of things happen, a lot of commands given that I truly do not understand, nor agree with. But if the group charged with being the good guys seems to be acting not to the standards I expect, does that mean I am in some way unworthy? That I truly do not know the greater good? I can’t seem to accept the fact that they are wrong or have bad intentions. They are the Academy, for Christ’s sake. If I don’t work for the good guys, what does that make me? I just want to be a good guy.”
He looked genuinely torn. Huh. Was he really that naïve? He was so brainwashed that he didn’t know how to stand up to his superiors when they seemed to be making bad calls? Maybe that was how they had been trained. To never challenge their betters. In fact, it made sense. They wouldn’t want insubordination in a life or death situation. Like the military. But this seemed like a huge chink in their armor. I could see that Gavin truly wanted to be a good guy and just as truly didn’t know what that meant anymore. But he also didn’t have enough independence to realize that completely.
“Gavin, listen to me. What were you commanded to do?” I asked, managing to relax my shoulders into an unthreatening posture. I noticed Othello’s eyes darting back and forth between us, ready for anything, knowing me better than most.
“To watch over you and prevent you from making any deals with either party. The Key belongs to the Academy.” My fingers tingled. To make sure I didn’t make any deals. Well that was dicey. How could I use my trickery if I wasn’t allowed to play one enemy against another? Making a deal was pretty much the only way I thought I could survive long enough to get to the summoner, which was the only way to end the Demon presence and keep the Armory safe. In fact, it was pretty much a guarantee that I would have to make a deal in order to get a face-to-face with the true enemy.
“And if I were to make a deal, but hadn’t actually given over the Key yet, what were you commanded to do?”
He looked up at me with hard, but torn, eyes. “Kill you.”
My head sagged. “You understand that for me to get close enough to the bad guys to end this that I pretty much have to make a deal, right?”
He nodded after a long wait.
“Follow that thought to its rational conclusion and tell me what you see.” I said gently.
He did, and I watched his shoulders begin to sag, but he didn’t speak.
“So, you realize that you were chosen to pretty much be my assassin. I am commanded to go after the Demons and end them, yet your boss bound my power so that I am not strong enough to accomplish the task. Which makes it 100% likely that I will have to use subterfuge and trickery to get close enough to finish this, meaning I would need to at least pretend to make a deal. You were hired to watch over me and make sure that I don’t break any laws… but even if I pretended to make a deal, you were to kill me. So, the Academy has taken away my power to fight for myself, meaning I will be killed or lose my magic forever, but if I found another way to usurp them and made a deal, you would be there to kill me… to end me.” I watched as his shoulders slumped further. “You were hired as a hit man, not a probation officer.” I finally said softly. He wasn’t looking at me. “Look at me, Gavin. Look at your victim. Your target. Your mark. You know you couldn’t take me in a fair fight, so your boss helped you out, made your mark harmless.” He flinched at each word, as if I was physically striking him, but he didn’t look up. “LOOK AT ME!” I roared. Othello jumped in alarm. Finally Gavin lifted his gaze. I stared him in the eyes for a long time. “Do you still think your boss is wearing a white hat?”
He finally shook his head. “But if I can’t trust them, who can I trust?”
I sighed in resignation, rubbing my hands together for warmth. “Yourself, kid. Always yourself. You might not always be right, but at least you can rationalize all your actions and know why what you do is right or wrong, rather than blindly following some creed. It’s never good when you blindly follow some belief system or group of people without consciously deducing whether what they do is right or wrong. The number one test is to wonder what would happen if you openly, but respectfully, questioned your commander’s decision when you think it’s wrong. If the answer in any way resembles punishment, pain, or ridicule, rather than an explanation, you are probably not working for the good guys.”
Gavin nodded his head after a moment. “I want to do the right thing.” My shoulders relaxed for a moment. “But I still do not trust you, Temple. You caused so much chaos here with the dragons, and you hold the launch codes to the Armory. I will give you a chance, but that doesn’t mean I work for you. I work for myself… and possibly the Academy. I will not let their corruption get in your way, or the way of the innocents, but that does not make us friends. Understood?”
I nodded. “Thanks for hearing me out, Gavin.”
“Don’t thank me just yet. I won’t mention anything to my superiors about what happened here tonight. But I’m still watching you.” With a final nod, he Shadow Walked, disappearing with a faint crack in the air. The falling snow pulsed away from the void as if repelled, leaving a faint circle of bare street where he had been standing.
Othello watched me in surprise, several fat snowflakes settling on her eyelashes. “So, he’s one of the good guys, eh?” I shrugged, letting her guide me in the direction of the safe house as my mind raced. Perhaps Gavin wasn’t on my side, but at least I knew he wasn’t a zealot for the Academy anymore. My thoughts drifted to the Demon’s threats. How would I protect the werewolf? Who was he? Where was he?
At least I knew it wouldn’t be Gunnar.
It’s the little things that matter.
Chapter 18
S ince all of my known properties were most likely under surveillance, I trusted Othello’s directions. The snow was still falling heavily, making driving less safe, but at least the streets were empty. Apparently, Othello had acquired the old apartment of Raego’s from a few months back — the scarily unhygienic one. I have no idea how. Maybe there was a Craigslist page for dicey Black Ops hideouts. Othello had introduced me to her expensive ‘friends,’ the ones who had organized my escape. I hadn’t been too responsive, focused on the imminent attack on the werewolf community. The men seemed like mercenaries, Tomas Mullingsworth types, but with sneakier spy traits. After several stunted conversation attempts and the stardom of meeting me began to fade, they got back to business, and offered us a whole mess of goodies. Disguises, weapons, fake ID’s, and other things that I didn’t pay attention to but that Othello seemed to appreciate. I did notice two men excitedly studying the soles of a few pairs of unique hiking boots, an
d waggled my finger at Othello to add them to the pile. I also made sure we had a whole pile of burner phones. Never knew when those would come in handy. She did, with a curious frown. The men finally left.
Othello guided me to the back room and set me down on the bed. “Nate. You need to get some sleep.”
I shook my head stubbornly. “Can’t. Werewolf’s going to die. I need to save him. Or her.”
She gripped my shoulders. “Nate. Listen to me. There is no way we could find him in time. You of all people know how big St. Louis is. We don’t even know in what part of town to look. He could already be dead. In fact, I’m sure he is. We don’t have enough information, and you forget this.” She pointed at my head and pulled out a makeup mirror. I stared into it, watching as Othello brushed my hair back. There, burned into the side of my forehead near the hairline was a rune. An ugly, scarred, ancient rune. It emanated bad juju. And it looked like it was weeks old. Despite still hurting like a son of a bitch. “We don’t know anything about this. He no doubt wanted you to run out there and try to save the day. This thing could even attract these Nephilim. Or any other number of bad guys ready to take you down. We were lucky Gavin didn’t sense it. You’re exhausted. We need a plan.”
I lifted my tired eyes from the mirror. “We?”
She nodded, determined. “I’m not backing down from this. You’re all alone, if you hadn’t noticed. You need backup. And I can take care of myself. These guys left me some weapons that work on all sorts of supernaturals. I should be covered. I’m an excellent shot. Even for a Regular.” She smiled. “There’s a lot of talk on your end of the spectrum — with the supernatural community — about St. Louis experiencing a lot of weird events. That’s why I came into town in the first place. As soon as I knew your friends had left, I knew you would need my help.”
“You’re tracking my friends?” I asked in disbelief.
She smiled coyly. “I spy on everyone I care about. And anyone involved in his safety.” She licked her lips, not sensing how creepy that sounded. “Speaking of which, I haven’t found out much about the Angel, Eae. He is known as the ‘Demon thwarter, but other than that he apparently keeps his cards close.” I had given her a small list of things to look up when I called her earlier in the day, thinking any additional information couldn’t hurt. “Also, your parole officer, Gavin seems clean. Bit of a loner. Not a lot of friends. No social media accounts or email. After meeting him, I can see why. Are they all like that?” Which meant Gavin must have no friends. If Othello couldn’t find dirt on someone, it didn’t exist. Or he didn’t have any kind of social presence, which wasn’t out of the question for an Academy Justice. They were a mysterious bunch.
“Yeah. I guess they don’t let them use social media. No twatting for the Academy.”
Othello let out a cute laugh and shook her head. “I think they call it tweeting…”
“Oh. Well, I like twatting better. It’s catchier.” I defended.
Othello laughed harder for a few seconds before finally coming back to the facts. “So anyway, tell me more about the Tarot card the Demon mentioned and these Nephilim. What are they?”
I sat there quietly, not having a whole lot to tell her. Well, I did need the help, and she was the only game in town. I couldn’t go to Agent Jeffries, as the FBI was no doubt combing the city for me, and I couldn’t risk him losing his job too. “The thirteenth Major Arcana is a Tarot card with a picture of Death on the front. I guess he liked the irony of using it to make a deal.” I shrugged. “And the Nephilim are the offspring of Angels and humans. They are the equivalent of Demons in the fact that they are the pawns that the Angels are allowed to use to influence the world. Hell has Demons. Heaven has Nephilim. Other than that, I don’t know much. I’ve never met one before last night. And I don’t think I want to again. They seemed like hired thugs or soldiers. I would feel bad killing one in self-defense. I wouldn’t think God would look kindly on that. But then again, if they are gunning to kill me, what choice do I really have?” I spoke the last more to myself.
“Maybe they will listen to reason and know that you aren’t really aiding the Demons.” Othello offered.
“I’m beginning to realize that intentions mean nothing. Not in my world. I’m pretty sure I’m fucked.” I sighed, running my hands through my hair, careful to avoid the brand. I would have to find a way to cover it up before I went out into the city. I didn’t know if it would help, but at least it would help us attract less attention from Regulars. Which, if things got out of hand and we had to fight someone, I didn’t want a telltale mark of some kind to stick out in people’s minds so that they gave the information to the police and somehow connected that the branded freak was none other than the allegedly kidnapped Nate Temple. I was exhausted. “You’re right, Othello. I need to hit the hay… but I can’t. I need to be out there, helping my people. They didn’t ask for this. I brought this on them. This is on me.”
Othello sighed, nodding in resignation after a long moment. “How?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. Drive around?” Othello looked disgusted.
“What about that rock?”
I slowly lifted my gaze to her. “Rock?”
“That thing that vibrated before the Demon showed up.”
I slapped my forehead in response. A flash of red light struck my brain. Then I was floating in blackness. I woke up, lying on my side, to Othello shaking me in alarm. I batted her hands away after a few seconds. “What happened?” I whispered, my forehead a sheet of flame.
“You hit your head with your hand and passed out almost instantly. Your eyes rolled back in your head the second you touched it.” She looked freaked out.
I calmed her down. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I was just amazed I hadn’t thought of the artifact in my pocket. It detects Demons. I guess I really am tired. Forgot about the brand on my forehead.” My head was pounding with the beginnings of a migraine from the repeated hits against buildings and the accidental slapping of my forehead. I wondered if I had a concussion.
“Maybe I was right. We should wait until the morning when you are thinking fresh.” She looked very doctor-like at the moment. I shook my head and stood on shaky legs, ignoring my throbbing skull, and my throat was still hoarse from the Demon choking me out. Then there was my new scar, which seemed to pulse with constant fire at every beat of my heart.
And my power was depleted significantly. I had thrown out a fair bit with the Demon. I realized in hindsight that I hadn’t warned Gavin that the Demon was in fact a Greater Demon as opposed to a run of the mill Demon possession. I was sure that information like that might convince him that the only way to stop the Demons was to arrange a deal in order to get the summoner. Next time I saw him I would tell him. Maybe. “Let’s go.” I said instead.
Othello watched me for a few moments before sighing and standing. “There is a car outside. What do you need me to do?”
I grinned. “Get a map.”
She pulled one off of the nearby table and brought it over. “Now what?”
“You drive while I get my freak on.”
She watched me. “Good pickup line. Not creepy at all.” Then she walked out the door.
Pickup line? Then I realized the double connotation. I just meant I would do my magic while she played my girl Friday. I sighed. No appreciation for the finer arts. Ignoring her comment, I pulled out the artifact, rubbing it against my thumb for warmth as Hope had shown me. Then I whispered a word. “Seek.” I commanded. The bone did, and began to vibrate. Swirls of inky crimson settled on two points of the map. I chose one at random, hoping it was the right one.
Chapter 19
I cringed at the quality of the Lincoln Town Car’s interior, feeling significantly poorer at being a passenger in such a vehicle. I wasn’t snobby. It was just… come on. A Lincoln Town Car? Weren’t they used exclusively in those old Private Investigator shows? But since I was now broke, perhaps my taste needed an adjustment.
“You can stop looki
ng so disgusted any minute now. It’s not that bad, Daddy Warbucks. Discreet.”
“Uh huh.” I answered with a doubtful frown, noticing the difference between the leather of my other cars compared to the scratchy fabric of this ride. It didn’t even have Bluetooth. But it wasn’t like I could drive one of my flashier cars, being a kidnapping victim. I was sure that the FBI had a stack of BOLO’s on my fleet of cars back at Chateau Falco. I resigned myself to the poverty of the Lincoln, idly remembering Matthew McConaughey’s commercials and Jim Carrey’s SNL mockery of them with an amused grin.
She rolled her eyes as she safely accelerated through the few inches of snow that had accumulated on the street; trying to hurry to the destination I had shown her on the map. We might already be too late. I slapped my cheeks — very gently — a few times, trying to wake myself up a bit without giving myself a resulting compound concussion. I was doing a good thing. Even with my own people against me I was risking my life to assist those in need. That had to be worth something. After all, I very easily could have agreed with Othello to catch some sleep first. But I hadn’t. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. Maybe pass out, but not sleep. I was used to running on no sleep after living with night terrors for so long. I actually felt better than usual. Refreshed. After all, I had actually managed to get some sleep in jail. Before the Demon attacked me. Who would have thought that I would associate jail of all places with a peaceful experience?
“So, why was it so important to make sure you had a phone? Are you planning on calling in backup?” Othello asked softly. “Am I not enough for you?” I cringed, sensing the words held a much deeper meaning that I definitely didn’t want to touch. So I did what men have done since time immemorial. I ignored it. You see, women spoke on many different levels. The words that were heard, the undertone of the implied words, and the emotions from their physical body as they spoke them. If not in addition to several others I hadn’t yet discovered. It was downright confusing. Men were snipers, focusing on only one thing directly in front of us, where women were cyclones of assassins wrapped up in a single tiny person, their conversations effectively dicing an innocent gentleman on several planes of existence at the same time. I sensed that every single word of hers was warning me of a danger that I wouldn’t have touched with a ten-foot pole. So I listened to only the actual words she had said.
Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2) Page 18
