Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2)

by Silvers, Shayne

  Since I had no magic, I simply prayed over the broken feather in a darkened alley. It was a unique experience for me, not being particularly religious before now. Oh well, what was one more blasphemy? Finished, I attempted to walk into a delicious looking deli and promptly head-butted the solid wooden door. I crumpled to the ground, seeing stars, panting heavily from the numerous ripples of pain caused by my skull striking the door, reminding me of my too many head injuries and more than likely concussion. Maybe I shouldn’t be outside unsupervised. I sat there, feeling sorry for myself, allowing the pain to fade away naturally before I stood up. The closed sign hanging on the door mocked me as I sat there like a vagrant. After a few seconds, I shambled to my feet and managed to put one foot in front of the other until I was more or less walking again. Luckily, no one else was on the street. I found another deli, and much more carefully, read the sign before trying to barge in. It was a health food shop. They specialized in sandwiches and smoothies. I wasn’t particularly picky at this point. My stomach grumbled loudly.

  After looking at the menu for a few minutes, I smiled. Then I ordered a pork sandwich, just to spite the Angel. I was fresh out of fucks to give.

  The waiter came to my table a few minutes later with a steaming sandwich and I grinned eagerly. I lifted the sandwich to my maw and took a huge bite. The restaurant instantly grew silent. I looked up to see that everyone was frozen solid. I sighed, thinking about setting my sandwich down, then shook my head. I took another huge bite of blasphemous deliciousness as Eae entered the building, spotted me, and approached the table. “Thish ish delishus. Want shum?” I held out the sandwich to him. He slapped it out of my hand. Where it fell open into a messy pile on the table.

  I scowled at him, chewing even slower, taking my time as I carefully put the sandwich back together.

  “Give me the Grace, wizard.” He threatened. I finished reassembling my sandwich in silence and looked up at him, unconcerned. His eyes abruptly widened and he took a step back in disbelief. Then his face slowly morphed into a predatory smile. “Wait. You’re powerless? Praise the Lord. How foolish are you?” He asked, genuinely stunned. “Do you not realize what you have done? You have called your executioner directly to your door when you hold no weapon.”

  “Oh, I’ve got a weapon. Put your hand in my pocket and see for yourself.” I smiled innocently. “But be careful. It bites.” I was of course referring to the Grace, but I loved toying with him.

  His glare was powerful, but I had already accepted my fate. I sat there watching him in silence. “You slew my son, and then dare summon me with my fractured Grace? I will destroy you.” He looked noticeably weakened to my eyes, as if the fractured Grace had hurt him. Badly. Either that or he had gone on a twenty-four hour bender.

  “No, you won’t. You’re not allowed.” I reached over and picked up my sandwich, taking another bite. “And for the last time. I didn’t slay Jonathan. The Demon you killed did that all by himself. Before he was killed, Jonathan said my partner, Othello, was honorable. He believed her, and wouldn’t turn a weapon against her. Ask her if you think I’m a liar.”

  Eae fumed. “There is a reason we command the Nephilim. They are not without their… flaws. They are half-human after all. Just because he trusted your associate does not mean I will make the same mistake. I see the Rune on your forehead, after I specifically warned you to stay out of it. Remember, when the trumpet sounds your final hour, that you brought this on yourself.”

  I continued chewing my sandwich unconcernedly. He cocked his head, studying me for a secret ploy of some kind. “I will dispatch more Nephilim to hunt you down. If you survive, the Riders will sort you out.” He finally added. I still didn’t let any concern show, taking another bite. I chewed it slowly before swallowing, licking my lips in satisfaction.

  “You sure you don’t want some? It’s quite excellent.” Eae’s weathered face purpled, the hidden wings tucked under his coat twitching in agitation. I shrugged. “Perhaps there’s an alternative. The Demons want me to hand over something that is too dangerous for me to provide. You commanded me to back off the investigation. Then you attacked me without knowing all the facts. After sending your little children after a full-fledged badass. That didn’t turn out so well for them, did it? I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Hell, I didn’t think I could! The Demons won’t let me back off. Your people won’t let me solve the problem. My own people seem eager to kill me either way. As you noticed, they cursed me, taking my power, because they also want the Armory, and now I have no way to help any party. I’m in a tight spot.”

  Eae merely stared at me. “None of that is our concern. As you so wisely said, I can’t directly get involved. So, follow your orders if you value your life.”

  “You see, Eae, I’m not too good at following orders. I get confused easily.” He shook his head in displeasure, preparing to stand and end the conversation. “Just curious, since I’m pretty much screwed anyway, what is the end game? What could the summoner want so badly that he’d resort to summoning Demons to get it? I’m not even sure of the inventory of the place, so how the hell does anyone else know?” He didn’t answer me. “Someone told me that the only way out of the curse is for me to meet my death at a specific time and place. I fail to see how death would help me remove my curse. Because, you know, the whole death part. Maybe my heart just needs to stop for a few seconds, and then be revived again?” I thought out loud.

  Eae scowled down at me with judging eyes, seeming curious, but also like he was holding something back from me. “From what I understand of magic, something so simple wouldn’t meet the requirements. Where does this talk of death removing the curse come from?”

  I ignored that last question, fearing I had given up too much. “I’m being boxed in on all sides because of you and your fallen brothers, Eae. At least call off your dogs. I’m on my last legs here. Surely you don’t fear me that much. Let me die swinging. Or help me to understand the bigger picture.”

  He bristled righteously. “I won’t do that without proof of your innocence. At this point, I doubt even I could think of sufficient proof that you are innocent. My brothers are… upset with you.” He smiled. “Oh, and speaking of my dogs… you were warned. Here come my nephews to destroy you and collect my Grace.” Then he simply disappeared.

  The windows suddenly blew inwards, and three human shaped blurs pounced on me, tackling me into the counter of the restaurant. My head struck the bar, and a lance of pain sunk into my side before I could even complete my whiplash.

  I was positive the blade had been dipped in molten lava beforehand. Warmed up especially for me. I could smell burnt flesh and fresh blood.

  Then another one slammed into my leg.

  Then my arm.

  Each stab seemed hotter than the first, and each too fast for me to even scream, but the pain struck deep into my soul as if driven by a spiritual hammer. I was shocked at the raw violence of the attack, my impotence, and the potential life threatening nature of the wounds. Three stab wounds to major appendages and organs in less than thirty seconds was downright psychopathic. Or was meant to send a message. Godfather style.

  Heh. Puns.

  I had never been powerless before. It was sobering. Scratch that. Horrifying. And my mind threatened to shatter, running away screaming to the depths of my psyche in order to avoid the scalding explosion of pain to the third power. My pocket was abruptly and neatly sliced open, and the pen case with Eae’s Grace was extracted. One of the Nephilim kicked me where I had been stabbed, then spat on me for good measure. I could barely even keep my eyes open, panting in staggering bouts of agony.

  When I managed to open my eyes, they were gone.

  I took a few minutes to press my shirt into the wounds on my side and arm, hoping to slow the blood flow. I clumsily untied my belt and did the same for my leg, making a makeshift tourniquet. I almost screamed when I pulled it tight, my entire leg throbbing. After a few moments, I was able to slow my breathing a bit and look down.
It hadn’t struck an artery. I sighed in relief.

  They had beaten me, stabbed me, robbed me, and left me for dead in a health food deli. And these were the good guys. But I refused to die in a sandwich shop. No matter how good their pork was. I managed to climb to all fours, and began crawling towards the door. My injured leg more or less dragged uselessly behind me, and I had a brief vision of me pretending to be a zombie. I was careful not to bump into anything, fearful of how pleasant it would feel. The occupants of the room were still frozen so that I was the only somewhat mobile creature in a world of statues. It was probably for the best. I didn’t know how the hell I would manage to get out of here if anyone had seen the attack, or worse, if they had realized who I was. The notorious Nate Temple. The Archangel. The local billionaire playboy. The alleged wizard. The man wanted by the FBI, who had reportedly been kidnapped for a ransom the likes St. Louis had never seen before. If only they could see the quivering mass of shame that was the true Nate Temple now. I was thankful that they couldn’t see my pitiful state. I almost made it to the door before a thought struck me. I slowly turned around and began crawling back to the table, realizing I had left a long bloody smear in my wake. Like a zombie slug.

  I reached into a back pocket, pulled out my wallet, and left a twenty-dollar bill on the table. I had snagged it from Othello’s purse before leaving the apartment. It was the only cash I had to my name. The waiter had been nice, and he would probably have a lot of explaining to do after this. What with the store in shambles, the windows shattered, and a trail of blood crisscrossing the floor. Maybe Karma would remember my act.

  As I exited the building, I realized that the street was still empty, but more snow had fallen while I had been inside, which would make my trip back even more difficult that it was already going to be. I couldn’t imagine crawling that far. I would simply give up halfway and lie down, only to be trampled by the grumpy old war veteran when he returned. I leaned against the doorframe and slowly pulled myself to my feet, placing all my weight on my one good leg. After a few terrified moments of leaning back against the door, breathing heavily, and expecting another gang of Nephilim to come finish me off, I decided to begin moving. I took off my coat and held it in a clenched fist at my side and began to shuffle slowly back to the apartment. At least I had gotten a few bites out of the sandwich before getting my ass officially smited.

  I was careful to scuff up my trail behind me with my coat dragging behind me, as I would have left a quite obvious bloody smear all the way back to the apartment otherwise. After a few minutes of painstakingly concealing my tracks, I heard the first screams from the deli as time returned to normal. Eae’s spell had lifted, and any second a gang of Regulars would be fleeing the deli in terror. I rounded the corner and stumbled along as fast as possible. I needed to get gone.

  To where, I had no idea. But I wasn’t about to go to jail.

  Chapter 30

  Othello ignored the tears streaming down her face as she used a medical kit left behind by her crew of shady mercenaries to doctor me up. Her hands were shaking as she suppressed sobs of concern, rage, and fear. “You just went down to grab some food! Why didn’t you wake me up? How the hell does a hitsquad of Nephilim find you in a deli?”

  “I’m just lucky, I guess.” I mumbled, trying to ignore the pain of her stitches. Her eyes weighed me. But she knew me too well.

  “What did you do?”

  I fidgeted. She poked me with the needle, a murderous gleam in her eyes. “Ow! What the hell? I’m injured!”

  “Start talking. I can make this take a long time, each stitch could take a full twenty seconds if I really wanted to be careful.” She poked me with the needle again.

  “Fine! Fine! I summoned the Angel, Eae.”

  “What?” She roared, jumping to her feet, storming back into the kitchen and waving her hands around like a crazy person before finally rounding on me again. “Why in the hell would you do that?”

  I sagged back into the couch, glad that she hadn’t pricked me again. “I figured it was worth a shot. We need help. Answers. Regardless, it didn’t pan out. He called his Nephilim on me. They beat me, stabbed me, and then took the Grace back. I’m not sure if that means they are out of the picture or not, but with my luck, probably not.”

  She came back over and resumed her stitching, more gently this time. “These look like they were partly cauterized.” She said, studying the wound.

  “Yeah. Felt like it too. Not pleasant.”

  “But they’re still bleeding. It would have been better if they had been completely cauterized.”

  I shivered. “I see what you’re saying, but it hurt plenty enough without adding an extra two-hundred degrees to what already felt like lava.” She grunted in agreement as she worked. I continued to talk, needing a sounding board. “I guess our next option is to see if Gavin will help us out. He doesn’t seem like he’s one hundred percent in cahoots with the Academy. Either that or summon Sir Dreadsalot to make a deal .”

  “I don’t trust Gavin.” Othello said instantly. I arched a brow, barely flinching as she poked me again to sew up my leg.

  “You trust a Demon more than Gavin?” I asked in disbelief. The fire in her eyes made me back off a bit. “Well, to be fair, I don’t trust anybody.” Her eyes twinkled even angrier. “Except you. But it’s not about trust anymore. We need help. I’m running on fumes.” I lied. I couldn’t tell her that I was helpless. Yet. “We have to stop this. I don’t have a choice. It started out with me trying to find my parents’ murderer, but now that I’ve entered the game, I can only leave by death. Hell, I can only win through my death, apparently.” I growled.

  Her eyes were sad, torn. “Still. Gavin’s hiding something.”

  “Everyone is hiding something.” I retorted. “At least he’s helped us out a few times. Kind of. Like with that Demon yesterday.” Before I could continue, Othello interrupted me.

  “You mean the Demon that reappeared to attack us and turn you into a psychopath shortly after he supposedly banished it?”

  I nodded. “I know. I’m just as curious about that as you. Probably more. But it is possible that the summoner called it back from Hell to attack us again outside the apartment.”

  Othello rolled her eyes. “Sure, with your dagger still in her heart. She had a hard-on for you, Nate. I don’t think the Fallen Angels would send her back up to earth with a major injury. It seems like our Gavin might not be such a White Hat…” She whispered the last words, looking curiously introspective for some reason. “This looks bad, Nate.” She gestured at the wounds. “You need to get these checked out. By a professional.”

  “No time. Just doctor me up as best you can. I’m supposed to die anyway. Why not go out with a story like this? Would look good on my tombstone.” Othello stood up, a storm of emotions crossing her face in the blink of an eye — guilt, sadness, anger, remorse, and determination. I gripped her hand reassuringly, which only seemed to make her feel worse.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was supposed to come save you.” She sobbed softly, seeming to break down at the shoulders. I patted her shoulder comfortingly in understanding.

  “You did good, kid. Not your fault we’re up against the heaviest of hitters.”

  She seemed to regain her composure after a few moments. “Well, I’m not giving up, even if you are. Rest. Contemplate how much of an idiot you are being in trusting Gavin. I’m heading to Temple Industries with your Demon-sensing artifact. See if I can spot any of the foul bastards. Maybe find your new buddy, Gavin, lurking around so I can kill him. Slowly.”

  I halted her with a hand on the arm before she could storm out the door. I gave her one last request. Her cool eyes assessed me thoughtfully, but she nodded with a final sad smile, seeming reassured. She still looked torn, but resolute. “Oh, can you grab me the bottle of absinthe on the counter? I’m thirsty, and in need of some liquid courage.” She rolled her eyes, but complied. I tipped an imaginary hat at her in gratitude as s
he handed me the bottle, and then she left. And I was alone.

  The party of two had become one.

  I sat on the couch, sipping straight from the bottle for a few minutes, contemplating my next move, trying to think of anything else I could do. “Ah, fuck it. Why not?” I looked at my watch and smiled. “But first, a nap. Might be my last chance.” As if the words were a lullaby, I fell asleep.

  Chapter 31

  I woke up after my nap, and instantly realized that I had been asleep for five hours. More like a mild coma. I twisted my legs off the couch, and as they struck the floor I was reminded of the stab wound from the holy blade this morning. When Heaven had officially smited me. Stars sparkled across my vision from apparent dehydration as I gritted my teeth against the sharp throb in my thigh. The ensuing rush of endorphins then invited my other wounds to the party. Right. Long walks weren’t in the cards for me today. Which could become a problem. Normally I would use my power to help me ignore my injuries, but having no magic to rely on introduced me to a whole new world of pain.

  And it sucked.

  I didn’t know how people did it.

  Since I didn’t have anyone to help me, I called a cab to pick me up in an hour and take me to Soulard, where the festival and parade was taking place. It was as good a place as any, since the parties against me might be more careful around Regulars. It was a unique experience for me to plan a battle without my magic. I had to think differently, apply different tactics. I grunted as I slowly climbed to my feet and began to test my legs, walking back and forth across the living room. I really wished Mallory were in town. I could use the additional muscle to back me up. I still didn’t know his full story, but he was a certified badass. Too bad he was on vacation too.

  Now that I thought about it, it was kind of odd that all my friends were gone at the same time, leaving me all alone. I hadn’t really thought about it until now. I wasn’t typically the guy who made sure I had backup. I usually just went in on my own, or knew that a quick phone call could provide any kind of backup I might need. I had never really thought about making sure I always had a Plan B. I didn’t typically make myself available for so much trouble on a daily basis so hadn’t ever considered it. Well, if I survived this, I’d have to change that. Having a plan for the future helped give me a bit of confidence, even though I was one hundred percent certain that this was my last hand. I mean, I had nothing up my sleeve.