Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2)

by Silvers, Shayne

  The marshmallow was profound. Probably the perfectest marshmallow I had, or would ever, eat. After some time, I quenched the green flame with a thought, and found myself rather enjoying the immediate sounds of Gavin’s relieved whimpering. I turned to the Boatman, knowing that he typically took the entire body of supernaturals rather than just the soul. “Leave the body. I’ll need it to clear my name… hopefully.” Charon shrugged, and as he climbed to his feet he gathered up the remains of Gavin’s ragged soul with a flick of his hand. The once dangerous summoner’s soul tagged along behind him like a dog on a leash, entering the boat with trepidation.

  Charon waved one time as he departed. Much slower than he usually did. I heard another beer crack open as the boat slowed even further. Something unseen began striking Gavin from the front and the back erratically, causing grunts and gasps of pure terror as his soul twitched to and fro, searching for the cause of the pain. I watched as the abuse continued unabated. Then I began to laugh, putting an arm around Othello. She collapsed into my chest, sobbing all over again with exhaustion, apologizing, and generally leaking bodily fluids all over me, ruining my cool outfit with her blood, snot, and tears.

  But it felt nice to hold her.

  Chapter 39

  I heard a horse stomp his foot, neighing like a Demonic Clydesdale. I turned curiously to see that it was only Death’s — obviously not a Harley — horse. I appraised the beast thoughtfully, studying the same glowing green sheen to his coat as the bike had sported. Then I recalled Asterion’s description of the Pale Rider. “I wonder if you know Grimm?” I spoke more to myself than anything.

  The horse fucking answered me, causing Othello to jump behind me in terror.

  “Ah, it has been eons since we slaughtered and grazed together. I thought you smelled familiar.” Othello peered around my shoulder like a small child, eyes wide as she realized the horse had in fact spoken. He had a refined British Accent like a James Bond actor.

  “Um… that was kind of a rhetorical question. So, you can talk.”

  The horse grunted. “So can you, Maker.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Do I just call you pale horse?”

  “I am known as Gruff.” He answered proudly. I nodded.

  “Pleased to meet you, Gruff. This is Othello, and I am Nate.” The creature bowed his head in response. Othello’s eyes were about to pop out at this point, and she was still clutching me with clawed fingers. Patting my pocket with a sudden idea, I smiled as I found something I had forgotten about. I pulled it out and Othello blinked at the odd black feather with the red orb at the tip. “Grimm. Come to me.” I called into the night.

  A peal of black lightning responded, and my little pet death pony, courtesy of Asterion, appeared before us. He stamped a hoof, spotted Gruff, and trotted up to him, rubbing the side of his feathered head against Gruff’s glowing green mane. Gruff made a surprised sound, but responded in kind. The two of them walked away from the humans, no doubt to catch up on lost time. I smiled, wondering if Grimm could also talk. I didn’t hear any voices though. I pocketed my feather, glad I had snatched it up from Plato’s Cave before it burned down.

  “That was courteous of you.” A familiar voice said.

  Hemmingway — Death — strode out from behind a pillar of salvaged vehicles, assessing the two horses with a thoughtful gaze. Othello sat down in the dirt behind me, legs finally giving out. Her wild eyes darted from Death to me, and back again with confusion. I wondered how she saw Hemmingway. Was he a doppelganger of me at the moment or did she see the guy I had met at the bar?

  “So.” He nudged Gavin’s detached head with an unsympathetic boot, turning the summoner’s eyes the opposite direction. “You caused quite a stir. Who would have known that a little manling wizard child would almost start the End Days? What have you been up to lately?” Death looked at me, weighing my soul.

  “Whoops?”

  He chuckled. “I don’t think you made any friends today. I believe you won’t be too long in the land of the living. Every Knight of Heaven will be after you now. Using Cat’s Paws, of course. They won’t be satisfied until your blood paves the streets. Did you at least have fun borrowing my… accessories?” He asked darkly.

  “Uh, the Scythe was a nice touch. Especially after you threw a bitch fit about me borrowing it.” Death grunted.

  “Bitch fit, eh?” My arms pebbled at his tone, but he shrugged. “Intentional. You will see.”

  I frowned, unsure what he meant. “I met Charon. Real charmer. Might have an attitude problem, or a drinking problem. Or both. Kind of a dick, actually. He didn’t tell me where I was going. This was the last thing I expected.”

  Death laughed. “That was kind of the point.”

  “You probably want this back…” I began to lift my hand to the mask, but Death held up a hand, stalling me.

  “Did you know that our masks were created by the first Maker?” He threw in conversationally. “He was actually known as The Mask Maker after that. It’s the origin of your ancestor. He made four… One for each Horseman. You are the first Maker in thousands of years. I wonder what wonders you might create if you live long enough. Perhaps a new mask?” He asked, tone heavy with implications. I merely stared back at him in surprise. “Your kind was hunted down quite excessively. Too powerful of a third party, what with the rise of the wizards.” He watched me, grinning distantly. “Something to look forward to, perhaps.”

  “That’s nice.” I finally stated. Now I was the most wanted man alive? I’d had enough of this. “Here, I’ve caused enough problems. Take this thing away before I do something even more stupid than I already have.” I began to take it off.

  “Wait.” His eyes quested the salvage yard. “We aren’t alone. This is still Act Two…”

  I groaned with exhaustion, and began to rub my hands together for a scrap. Othello cowered behind me. Couldn’t I get a break?

  Chapter 40

  A rumble of thunder shook the ground, causing several of the towers of vehicles to groan.

  Three men entered the clearing, two of them recognizable from the bar where I had first met Hemmingway. One was the red haired, scarred knuckle grouch who had been glaring at us. Another was the sickly older gentleman I had saved from the Hail Mary knockout punch. The third was a stranger to me.

  “Allow me to introduce my brothers, the Horsemen. War, Famine, and Pestilence. Brothers, Nate Temple. The Rider of Hope. He already has a horse. Grimm.” They turned to the two horses off to the side, looking thoughtful, and then they all burst out laughing. Rather than taking offense, I shook my head, chuckling nervously.

  “No thanks. I’m a horrible horseman.”

  “He also looks rather like you now, Brother. I wonder why that is?” The beefy red-haired Horseman, War, added, pointing at my mask.

  I began to pull it away from my face and saw Death shaking his head quickly. “Not yet. It still has one more part to play. Trust me.” The other Horsemen shook their heads in amusement. What the fuck was he talking about? Hadn’t I caused enough mayhem? I studied the legends more closely. Famine sported a mask on his belt that looked like it belonged on a Renaissance Doctor, complete with the long beak for a nose and everything. It was a blood red color. Pestilence had an aged scarecrow mask dangling from his belt, having been made from what looked like a burlap sack. And dark, oily stains marred its surface. War sported a mask of laughing flame. Literally. The mouth moved as it made the motion of laughter. While burning. I shivered. And a Maker had created them for these four wraiths. Someone like me.

  Before I could think about that too much, Heaven and Hell arrived amidst more peals of thunder and general ruckus. If this continued, the salvage yard wouldn’t survive. Couldn’t they simply walk? As if on cue, they congregated to separate sides and watched us.

  Watched me in particular. They looked curious, glancing from me to the Riders to the two horses and murmuring amongst themselves. After all, thanks to Death’s insistence, I still wore the mask.


  Then the seven remaining Academy members arrived with their damning silver masks as the familiar Crack of Shadow Walking broke the silence of the gathered parties. Jafar then saw that he wasn’t alone. His eyes widened at the Riders, the horses, then further at the Bible Thumpers. He stumbled backwards, as if searching for a safe place to face, and promptly tripped over Gavin’s severed balding head. Othello groaned in disgust. He fell on his ass most ungracefully. His eyes finally settled on Gavin’s face and he flinched. I burst out laughing.

  Jafar’s eyes rose to meet mine, pure fear filling his face. He was the only one without a mask. I briefly wondered what I looked like to the Academy.

  “You cannot be here. It is not time to Ride, Horsemen! No Covenants were broken, were they?” His eyes darted nervously to the Angels. Then the Demons, searching for an answer. “I’m here for Nate Temple. He is to be arrested for crimes against the Academy.” Jafar commanded.

  I turned to Death, silently asking if it was time yet. He nodded back.

  So I took off the mask. The Academy members gasped. The Angels and Demons merely chuckled as if at a good joke.

  Jafar pointed his finger at me in accusation after a brief flash of confusion. “You have consorted with Demons. It’s the only way you could have survived. The Academy will make an example of you for what you have done. I promise you that.”

  Gruff stamped a hoof, causing the earth to crack beneath him slightly. Grimm was also there, staring hungrily, but he did it well. The wizards flinched at the implied threat. Death spoke into the silence. “On the contrary, wizards. He was the only one with the stones to stand against your arrogance. This was your responsibility, and you are lucky I don’t make an example of you. I might yet. Your own soldier, Gavin, caused this. Such an arrogant name, Justices. The presumption.” He shook his head in distaste. “Nate, here, has saved this city. Despite your interference.”

  Several dark shadows from the Demon side grumbled. I guessed they were Fallen Angels. A step above the pitiful Greater Demon I had battled. A single voice spoke up, a hissed warning of a snake. He still had nothing on Charon. “Aye, he has. He has no relationship with us, although we would like to extend a job offer if he is willing.”

  Jafar’s eyes creased in rage, assessing me for some accusation that might stick. I turned to the Fallen Angels. “Lot of that going around lately.” I muttered. “Thanks, but no thanks, weird shadowy guy.”

  His answering voice crackled with power. “Call me by my rightful title, mortal. Knight of Hell or Fallen, if you must. Do not show disrespect to a being such as myself. Continue at your own peril. Even with the mask, you dare not stand against our might.”

  I shook my head, showing my palms and the mask, placating. This only seemed to cause a stir among them, as if I was threatening them with the mask. “Okay, okay. Calm down.”

  “No one is about to calm down.” Jafar turned an accusing glare to the gathered parties. “He wields the power of a Horseman. How can this be? Surely, this breaks the Covenants.”

  I cleared my throat, standing closer to Othello, who was still sitting on the ground, trying to avoid attention from our oh so powerful audience. I wanted to be close in case anyone tried to take out his or her frustration on the only unprotected class here. “I borrowed it. Stole it, to be exact. Death had no idea. I used my Maker’s ability. It was the only way I stood a chance, thanks to your curse. While you were lounging away at the Academy, sipping warm milk, I was fighting for my life and the lives of those innocents in my city. Without my birthright!” I roared. “Innocent people died while you schemed safely away in your ivory tower, hoping to get your hands on the Armory when all the cards fell. All could have been taken because of your arrogance!” I was heaving. My vision rippled with a blue haze, a warning that I was dangerously close to tapping into my new gift. War appraised me, nodding in approval.

  The same Knight of Hell spoke up, still not offering a name. “Much to our regret, the mortal speaks the truth. It was almost in the summoner’s grasp. We were all used here, well, us and the Angels. You, Academy Justices, on the other hand, have no excuse. We of celestial origins were all forced to use cat’s paws to fight here. Angels with their Nephilim, us with our Demons, and the mortal here decided to gain his own cat paw. The Horseman.”

  Eae, on the Angel’s side, chimed in. “And all without breaking any Covenants, apparently, despite our encouragement to leave well enough alone. He has saved this city from my brothers’ children. We judged you wrong, Maker. Although I am interested in how you duped the Horseman.”

  The Fallen Angels scowled from within the shadows, grunting affirmation that they too would like to hear the story I wasn’t about to share it, or the lie that I had stolen it and that Death had actually assisted me.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s a talent of mine.”

  Jafar acquiesced begrudgingly. “Fine. You have allies in high places, Temple. Who was this alleged summoner?”

  I smiled. “You just missed him. Well, you tripped over his head, but other than that, you just missed him. We had a few marshmallows and then he hopped on a boat out of town. You should know him though. He was my parole officer, since I’m such a naughty boy.”

  Jafar blinked with doubtful eyes, briefly darting to the corpse at his feet. “You expect me to believe Gavin caused all of this?”

  “Having witnessed firsthand your impressive ability to see the facts before you and still make a horrible mess of things, no. I don’t.” I watched him like a bug in a box, watched as his calculating eyes tried to go into damage control. Politics. Gavin had been right. He didn’t care that they had a psychopath in their midst. He cared about how to pass the buck. Lay the blame elsewhere, so that his reputation wouldn’t be tarnished. “He seemed to have this crazy notion that the Academy was broken. Political animals, he called you. Did you, by chance, happen to start this whole mess, jumping into my life and cursing me, as a result of information he provided you? Incriminating evidence of some kind, perhaps?”

  Jafar’s mouth opened. Then closed. His scowl grew tight. Then he nodded. “What is this Maker appellation they mentioned?” He said instead. Several of his Justices shifted nervously from foot to foot. I wasn’t sure if it was from Jafar’s question, or my accusation.

  “Not your concern.” I muttered.

  Jafar opened his mouth, but War cleared his throat, flexing his fists at his side in warning. Jafar quieted under the Horseman’s gaze. War’s mask hung at his belt, flames covering a roaring, gleeful face. How did it not burn his clothes? I shivered.

  Eae spoke again. “As fascinating as this all is, I merely ask the Horsemen for my Grace to be restored as recompense for this… misunderstanding. And I recommend you also return what you have borrowed from the Rider.” He added, turning to me.

  I smiled. “Will do, as soon as our ‘guests’ leave. Courtesy must be extended to even the most unsavory types, after all.” The Academy bristled.

  “Watch your tone, Temple. You have no power. You are now a Regular. Give us the key or we will raze your home to the ground. The Armory belongs under our control.”

  I paused. They couldn’t sense my power? Odd. It was coursing through my veins like my magic never had before. More violent, feral, and lethal. Hungry. The blue haze across my vision intensified. I liked it better than the odd green hue from Death’s mask. I definitely needed to learn more about this. After all, it was my only power source now.

  War took a step forward, a meaty, scarred finger cleaning out his ear. “I’m sorry, did you just demand access to the Armory? The one your fellow Justice almost ignited Armageddon for? After everything, you think you can just walk in here and take the candy? It belongs to the Maker, who is now safely out of your jurisdiction. He no longer wields the power of a wizard. He has…” He winked at me. “Transcended such petty claims.”

  I burst out laughing.

  Jafar’s hackles rose. “Petty?” He roared. The other Horsemen instantly grew more still, and power fa
irly crackled in the air. A warning. I almost wished I had a bag of popcorn. Jafar moderated his tone, sensing his impending demise. “Every wizard is commanded by the Acad-”

  War spoke. “That’s his point, impudent child. Listen, before I grow angry.” His voice was raspy, and one hand rested casually on the mask at his side. “Thanks to you, he’s no longer a wizard. He’s a Maker. Without your curse, you would have had a Maker and wizard under your thumb. Now you have neither. You truly are fools.”

  Jafar bristled, but I held out an olive branch.

  Kind of.

  “I’ll take you to the Armory for a quick view of what your insolence caused.” I turned to the waiting crowd. “This will only take a moment.” I offered Death his mask. He shook his head. “You wear it well, and it might keep them on their toes.” He added the last under his breath with a smirk. I smiled, nodding back.

  I Shadow Walked the Academy members to what remained of the Armory, and pointed at where the door once stood. It was different using my Maker power to Shadow Walk. More efficient even. It hadn’t taken nearly so much power from me, and I had done it while lugging seven people with me. Jafar rounded on me in anger, unhappy at me taking them here without his permission. “How did you do that? I thought you had no magic?” He accused. I didn’t answer, only adding to his anger I shrugged instead, turning to the wreckage before us.