Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2)

by Silvers, Shayne

  “Of course not. You are a certified badass. You nanoboted Sir Dreadsalot. A Greater Demon. That will go down as a first in the history books, for sure.” She smiled slightly, but I could tell she was still not content with my answer. I opened my mouth to continue, but she eviscerated my attempt at peace before I could properly defend myself.

  “Who called you earlier? When the Demon answered?” Her tone was crisp, professional even. I didn’t buy it.

  I chose tact, unsure what the tension in the car was related to. “Indie.”

  The car grew frosty. “Indie?”

  I fidgeted slightly, glancing at the map again. “Take a left here.”

  She hesitated a second before swerving the car, the vehicle sliding a bit in the precipitation. Dawn would creep up on us soon, but it was still dark outside. Despite the hour, the snow caused the entire world to glow pristinely. We were entering a low-income area, the kind of place that had recently experienced a jolt of rejuvenation thanks to the rare tax credit housing projects that sometimes found their way into major cities. Most of them seemed to occur in rural areas. I knew this because I was an investor in several. I think. I didn’t really pay much attention to my various investments. I had a guy for that. I understood enough to verify that I wasn’t being leeched, but other than that I was just a silent investor, primarily serving as the personal guarantee for about thirty million dollars worth of apartment projects. Small potatoes for what I had inherited, but it made me feel good helping out the community. Any personal profits I received were even donated back to the community. I made my profits elsewhere.

  “So, Indie?” Othello chimed in as we continued driving.

  I spoke before thinking, feeling uncomfortable about discussing my current girlfriend with my past collegiate fling, Othello. “She’s the manager at my store, Plato’s Cave.”

  Othello seemed to relax. “Oh, Indiana Rippley.” She corrected my pet name. I shrugged in agreement, not understanding why it mattered.

  “Yeah.”

  “The Demon seemed downright terrified of looking at your phone. Is Indiana that hideous?” She asked like a cat flexing her claws, enunciating Indie’s full name.

  “Um…” I didn’t know how to respond to her tone. “No. I think he was unfamiliar with our technology. He seemed to think my phone was a witch’s familiar. An entity bound to assist a witch in times of need.”

  “Oh.” Was the air conditioning on? It felt frigid in the car.

  “Turn right ahead. It should be a half mile away.” But Othello continued driving, not heeding my advice. We passed the street. I rubbernecked the missed turn with the sorrow of a stranded survivor on a remote island watching a cruise ship sail past without stopping. Wasn’t that the point of a navigator? “Othello. You missed the turn. Take the next right.”

  She slammed on the brakes instead, sending the car into a complete spin, which didn’t seem to concern her in the slightest. The seatbelt saved me from head butting the dash. As the car finally settled, the air inside the vehicle grew thick. “Why was it so important to make sure you had a cell phone from the gear my friends gave us?” She asked tersely.

  I slowly turned to face her, but she didn’t meet my eyes. Her body was tight, and she was breathing heavily. I didn’t have time for whatever this was. “Indie tried to call me and instead she saw a Demon threatening to kill me. I wanted to make sure I relayed her fears before she freaked out. Her mom’s dying. She has enough on her plate without having to deal with whatever is going on here.” I snapped. “Now, do you mind if we go save an innocent life?”

  “Her mother. In Colorado.” She said softly instead.

  I blinked. She was keeping tabs on Indie? “Yeah.” I answered.

  “Okay. You just wanted to make sure she wasn’t overstressed.” I nodded as Othello finally looked into my eyes. What the hell was going on?

  “Yep. If you were in her shoes wouldn’t you want to know what the hell that was about?”

  She nodded distractedly looking down at her lap. “Yes. I would. I couldn’t take it if I thought you were in trouble. Especially with my mother’s health on the line. Family first.”

  “Yeah. I just want to make sure she doesn’t freak out and call the police or anything. Especially since I’m supposed to be in jail.”

  “Okay. That makes sense. You should call her. See how her mother is doing.” Othello looked on the verge of tears.

  “I texted her.” Othello nodded, eyes far away and glistening slightly. “But right now we need to focus on the werewolf that’s about to be murdered.” Othello’s arms tightened on the steering wheel. “You good?” I asked her softly.

  It took her a minute, but she finally lifted her gaze again, eyes growing harder as they dried up. “Sorry. Yeah. I’m good. Just a lot to take in. This might be a normal day for you, but us Regular mortals don’t have days like this.” She mumbled. “Let’s take care of your werewolf.” With that, she released the brakes and drove back towards our turn. What the hell had that been about? But I didn’t need to ask myself. I was pretty sure I knew exactly what it was about.

  Othello still cared for me.

  And that smug bastard, Jealousy, had just made the first of many appearances to come.

  Othello and I had frequented many bedroom study sessions back in college, and now… we were back together again. Like Bonnie and Clyde. All alone, taking on the world together. And I had yet to make a pass at her. In the past, even right before Indie and I had evolved, I would have hit on her immediately. I had no reason not to. Othello was beautiful, intelligent, and very… very experienced in coital adventures. We had always been casual, never needing more than the sexual foray every now and again, but tonight I was picking up something entirely different. I think Othello’s opinion had changed. I think she actually felt possessive of me. I didn’t have time for that kind of entanglement right now. I was pretty much up against the ledge on this one. My power was practically gone. I felt like I had been in the ring with Muhammad Ali for three rounds.

  I had 99 problems, and — apparently — a girl was one.

  Gunnar would be beside himself with laughter right now. Lucky for me I hadn’t had a chance to call him. I briefly wondered if he had proposed yet. Then Othello slammed on the brakes again, this time outside a small, maybe fifty-unit, apartment complex. “Look.” She whispered. Rather than scan the surroundings for danger, I merely stared open-mouthed at the familiar name on the sign out front. Silver Gardens.

  This was a project I knew that I had invested in. It still looked new, especially with the clean snow, but… rough. As if the tenants weren’t too keen on rules. Which made sense.

  Werewolves lived here. They always gravitated to lunar references.

  Shaking my head at the coincidence, I finally scanned the street and spotted three human silhouettes sniffing the frosty air, patrolling the property’s perimeter with caution. If I saw three, there had to be three more I hadn’t seen. I glanced down at the bone artifact. It was vibrating violently, practically dancing in my lap. This was it. I opened the car door and jumped out into a snowbank, ready to blast a Demon back to hell, or to let Othello do it with her arsenal of goodies. I sniffed the air, sensing the familiar faint sulfurous odor of Demonic presence.

  Then I heard a lamenting howl from the center of the complex.

  A lot of howls answered, causing me to shiver nervously. The three sentries shared a look and then bolted towards the first howl, not even noticing us.

  I raced after them, my feet crunching too loudly in the snow as I ran parallel to their path with a building between us so as not to stumble into a dozen of the beasts by accident. Othello was hot on my heels, successfully keeping a low profile, but making just as much noise. Everything always sounded so much louder when it was snowing, as if the world had been temporarily muted, while my perambulation was on Dolby Digital Surround Sound. I slowed as I neared the corner of the building, ducking behind a bush before peering cautiously around it. Othello kn
elt beside me, catching her breath from the short sprint. Snow was still falling heavily, adding to the several inches that had already accumulated on the ground. How long was this weather supposed to continue?

  People were gathered around a single ground floor apartment, where I could hear a lot of agitated arguing from the men and prayers from the women. It was like someone had kicked an anthill. But no one had noticed us yet. I held up a hand for Othello to stay still. I could see something on the apartment door, like a large wreath or decoration of some kind. Squinting, I saw a gap in the people surrounding the apartment, and I leaned back in surprise. A woman was nailed to the door. Crucified. One beast of a man was utterly silent, kneeling before the door, staring up at the woman he no doubt cherished above all others. The other figures fidgeted both angrily and nervously, as if the man kneeling on the ground was someone important to them.

  Then it hit me.

  This must be their alpha. The Demons had taken his mate, his wife. The most important werewolf in the area. I gulped. This wasn’t going to go well. I was too late. There was nothing left for us to do, and us entering the equation now to express our condolences would not be welcome, and might even be considered suspicious. Suspicion would get both Othello and I killed. I glanced around the complex and noticed several tenants glancing out the windows conspicuously. At first it confused me, but then I understood. Not everyone in this complex was a werewolf. I mean, how likely was it for fifty werewolf families to take over the same complex? That meant there were numerous regulars living here, amidst a pack of murderous, vengeful werewolves.

  Shit.

  I turned to Othello and urgently motioned for her to discreetly get back to the car.

  She frowned at me, but finally nodded and rose with the silence of a ninja before taking a step back. Right over a Power Wheel truck. She cartwheeled backwards with a crash, causing a noticeable ruckus. Several pairs of werewolf eyes turned our way but I managed to drop to the ground just in time. Still, these were werewolves. They would investigate. With something we couldn’t mask. Smell.

  Before I could move I heard a voice break the peaceful night’s silence like a thunderbolt in a clear sky. “Wolves. Tonight, you have faced a great calamity.” Everyone, the wolves and us, glanced around, searching for the voice. Then I saw it. So did the wolves, forming a protective ring around their Alpha. I pointed up for Othello’s sake. There, standing on a nearby roof was a silhouette, glowing with white radiance. The wolves bristled with blood thirst at the unwelcome voice. But part of me wanted to giggle with joy, glad that the voice had conveniently caused a distraction for us to escape. Maybe it was Gavin finally giving me some support.

  Without it, Othello and I would have most likely been chased back to our car like lame antelope fleeing a pride of starving lions. I motioned for Othello to get back to her feet and flee before the wolves remembered the noise she had caused.

  Karma chose that moment to metaphorically whip me in my family jewels.

  “There, between those buildings lies the culprit. I am an agent of Heaven, hunting a fugitive who has been working with Demons to cause harm to this fine city. Your city. Sensing the impending attack, I travelled here to this place only to find myself too late to save her. Yet fortune seems to favor us.” I slowly glanced back to see several sets of fiery eyes staring directly at Othello and I. Feral howls filled the night.

  So, it wasn’t Gavin after all.

  “Take vengeance on the wizard who has trod on your fur for so long. He is marked, now working as an agent of Hell, murdering one of your own on behalf of his new Lords and Masters. Take him down like the animal that he is. Hunt the cowardly murderer. Hunt Nathin Temple!”

  One voice belted out. “How? He is a wizard. We hold no chance against the gifted.”

  “As a pack, you are all but invincible.” The radiant Angelic voice answered with sublime confidence.

  “Yes,” a new, darker, more authoritative voice answered. It was the Alpha. And he sounded… familiar. “We are. Get the women and children inside. Tonight, the men hunt.”

  Every wolf in the area howled, making the very air seem to vibrate. Every single curtain in the apartment complex slammed shut. No regular was going to get involved in whatever was going on in the parking lot. Othello stared with utter confusion at the radiant apparition that had condemned us to death. I heard several explosions of fabric as the wolves shifted from their weaker human forms.

  “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” I hissed, finally recognizing where I had heard the voice before. It was the same werewolf from the bar the night before. The one Tory and I had made a fool of. “Click your heels, now!” Othello nodded in instinctual obedience, eyes wide with fear. I also slammed my heels together, satisfied at the resulting brief click felt in my toes. “Now, run!” I shouted. I heard heavy, padded paws tearing noisily across the blanket of snow like a herd of elephants as we fled. We still had a building and numerous cars between us, but werewolves were fast. I knew that most of them couldn’t shift at will, like Gunnar, but I also knew that they could shift during extremely emotional times. Like the death of their pack leader’s wife.

  And that was when they were the least rational. During times of war. Even vampires stepped carefully — or fled entirely — when the mangy mutts were working as a single unit.

  I knew we had no chance of talking our way out of this. Especially while they were in wolf form. So we hoofed it. Luckily, we had new scoots on our feet thanks to Othello’s mercenary buddies. I had heard two of the men softly whispering to each other about a unique feature of the hiking boots, and knowing what we were going to be facing tonight, I hadn’t ignored serendipity’s call. I had pointed at them, and Othello had added them to our gear. I still found it awkward to run in them, but they might come in handy.

  We rounded the building and I saw two werewolves scouting out our car. They were in human form, but they were sniffing the vehicle with interest. They let out a howl, triangulating our position. I quickly darted around the corner between the bushes and the building, racing towards the adjacent neighborhood. Unfortunately, a stealthy escape wasn’t in the cards for us. The snow left a perfectly clear trail of boot prints wherever we went. I instinctively flung my hand back towards the car, casting our smell past the vehicle and racing a hundred yards further, not even considering my dwindling power. We would be dead if I didn’t use my gift right now. Many of the wolves darted after the faint whiff as they rounded the building.

  But many didn’t. The Alpha hesitated as he rounded the corner, sniffing the air. He was huge, as black as midnight, and his predatory eyes and long teeth fairly glowed in the moonlight’s reflection off the snow. Then two of the nearby wolves barked in our direction, still not seeing us but sensing our presence. Othello followed my lead, staying low as we continued to run across the street. I launched myself over a backyard’s chain link fence that suddenly appeared before me. Othello tried to duplicate the move behind me but her clumsy boots caught on the tip of the fence, causing the snow-covered metal to rattle loudly, as she crashed into the backyard. The wolves howled as they pinpointed our location, then they began to lope towards us. I cast balls of fire and ice blindly behind us, catching a few lucky strikes, bowling several groups of wolves over with yelps of pain.

  But half a dozen more continued after us unfazed.

  Including the Alpha, who seemed especially motivated, having heard my name from the Angelic being’s lips. Almost as if he held a grudge or something. But he had been the one to start the fight in the bar. Tory and I had merely ended it. More Tory than myself.

  We were screwed. The wolves were almost upon us and there was no way we could outrun such a motivated pack. They were out for blood. “Click your heels again!” I hissed at Othello for our ears only. “Just a dozen more feet and then we make our stand.” Othello nodded, clicking her heels right after I did. We raced a few more feet before we stopped, breathing heavily and arming ourselves. She drew her gun, armed with si
lver bullets. I merely turned around, drawing my face into hard, tight lines, the face I wore when I was in a scrap. The wolves quickly surrounded us, but remained a safe distance away, yipping and growling in a threatening circle of claws and fangs as the Alpha approached us with slow triumphant footsteps. He wasn’t in full wolf form, but instead a horrific beast of a man, part wolf and part human. Which was better… and worse. It meant he would be more rational than his pack, but also that he wanted to rationally cherish the violence to come.

  One of his packmates suddenly shifted to human form, no doubt a lieutenant if he had that kind of control. “Sir, I spotted other paw prints in the area. Big ones.”

  “It was probably our own. Or a tame pet wandering the streets.” The Alpha responded in a growl, drooling as he stared at me and took a step forward.

  “Respectfully, it wasn’t either.” The lieutenant answered carefully, bowing his head. The Alpha roared, backhanding his lieutenant in the face, sending him into the fence we had just jumped. He didn’t get up. The growling ceased amongst the pack, leery of their Alpha’s rage.

  “Of course it was. Do you see or smell any other werewolves here?” He laughed, an odd, barking noise. The wolves yipped and whined in agreement as the Alpha stepped closer to me.

  This was my moment. Use the chaos around me to my advantage.