No, not ink. Blood.
Then I was moving. I bolted outside, ready to interrogate Mallory further, but when I got there he was simply gone. His cart sat just outside the door, but of him, there was no sign. I saw the cab I had called earlier idling just outside, waiting patiently. After a few seconds of bewilderment, I decided to lock up the mausoleum via the electronic keypad, and angrily climbed inside the vehicle. “Did you see an old man leave the building a minute ago?” I growled in response to his jovial greeting.
“Just you, sir.” He answered with a frown. I looked back. The cart was gone. What the hell?
“Never mind. Plato’s Cave in Soulard.” I calculated in my head. 7.5 miles. “Get me there in eight minutes.” He nodded eagerly as I flashed a fifty-dollar-bill at him. I leaned back into the worn leather seats, satisfied by the adrenaline-inducing formula-one driving abilities of the cabby. I closed my eyes with a sigh, thinking. I now knew the reason for the odd perimortem gash on his arm. What had been so important that my father had wanted to leave a message in his own blood? And what did that have to do with the upcoming solar eclipse in three days? Wait, two days now. I hadn’t even remembered the big event until the message on the kerchief. It just hadn’t seemed important. There was a big convention of astronomers in town awaiting that very spectacle, but I’d be damned if I knew how it was connected to my parents’ deaths. Something nagged at me, but I was too exhausted to worry about it.
I began preparing a plan to acquire — or at least look into — the book that Raven had wanted me to find. Not knowing what it was about, or why it was so important, I figured that finding it might at least protect some of my fellow bookstore owners around town. Perhaps I could barter with one of the dragon sisters she mentioned. Either way, it was better to have it in my possession than remaining an unknown. I spoke a quick reminder into my iPhone, commanding the feminine intelligence queen to transfer it to my calendar in case I forgot later. I was meeting up with Gunnar in an hour to discuss the information he had dug up on Raven and her vague hints. He also had all the information on the latest bookstore attacks. Maybe if we kicked up enough dust we would find a trail.
The taxi screeched to a halt in front of my bookstore. I glanced down at my phone. Seven minutes. I threw him the bill and climbed out. He tipped an imaginary hat at me, and — much more responsibly this time — pulled out into the street, adhering to the legal laws set-aside by the grand city of St. Louis.
Chapter 10
M y phone vibrated before I had taken two steps. “Temple.” I answered.
“Hey,” Gunnar replied, sounding grouchier than earlier. “My car died today.”
That brought a brief grin to my face. “I know. I was there.”
“No, it really died. It’s going to cost twice what it’s worth to fix it, so I will be a public transport kind of guy for a while.”
“Well at least there’s tons of babes on the public bus.”
“Not in this town. New York, maybe, but not St. Louis.”
I tried not to laugh. “Still want me to swing by?” I answered instead.
“Yes. I’ve got everything together now. You sure you want in on this?” He sounded guarded.
“Um, someone tried to… hurt us last night.” I changed what I had been about to say. Police were kind of nit-picky about overhearing unreported murders. Even if it was self-defense. “Pretty sure I don’t have much of a choice.” I hadn’t told him about the dragon hunters at the Bellefontaine Cemetery. Nor the kerchief from Mallory. It would have to wait. With newfound resolve, I mumbled a confirmation. “As much as I would like to catch a flight to Cabo, there’s no getting out of it for me. I found out some information that might help us a bit.”
“Maybe you should get out of town. The cops are already watching you.”
I shook my head firmly. “I’m not running away from this.”
“Alright.” He sighed. “See you in an hour, then.” I clicked the phone off, and shoved it in my pocket. I placed a hand on the heavy door to my shop and strode inside. Standing there for a moment, I let the building’s heat wash over me. Plato’s Cave was doing a brisk business for a Friday, despite the new renovations due to Raven’s visit last night. A few workers milled around the broken window leading to the street, the sound of hammers striking nails filling the air.
A stunning, tall young blonde hung near the register, her Got Jesus? Tee stretched much too tightly over her breasts. A cartoon depiction of our savior was waving a thumbs-up in the most inappropriate of places, but the fabric was long enough to remain decent. Barely. Her name was Indiana Rippley. Her eyes reminded me of glacial chips of ice, almost a neon blue. She was my second-in-command at the shop, my store manager, and was privy to more classified information than the other employees.
“Hey, Indie. What’s happening?” She had started as a simple part-timer, but had rapidly forsaken using her degree when confronted with some of the darker clients I sometimes entertained. Her skills at running a tight ship had proven necessary; she was smooth sailing where others would blanche.
“Not a whole lot, Cap’n. Other than the remodel.” She added with a curious brow. I nodded back. “Game night tonight,” she scanned a paper before her. “Gods of Chaos IV, if I’m not mistaken.”
“You’re never mistaken, Indie.” I answered, rolling my eyes.
She beamed up at me, dancing up a bit on her toes, a pleasant jiggle making the cartoon Jesus dance a quick two-step on her shirt. “We got the store cleaned up after you left for…” Her face grew tight. “Need a drink? I’m on break in five.” She offered, knowing I had been through a tough ordeal today.
“I’m fine, Indie, but thanks.” But all I really wanted to do was succumb to her offer. I had crushed on her for years, but never made that final leap to show her my true feelings, fearing the nuclear fallout if things went south.
“Okay.” Her eyes were full of doubt. “I just want you to know that you aren’t alone. If you need a shoulder to lean on, don’t forget about us little people.” She said with a friendly grin. Eye candy for sure, but she was a trusted friend, and extremely intelligent. Her IQ had been clocked at 187 on three separate tests — well above genius level. Harmless flirting had been a part of our relationship since we had met so many years ago, and it had never crossed the line into anything more. I was protective of her, and she of me. But I still found myself wondering if there could be more.
“Thanks. But I’m fine. Maybe next week I’ll be ready to talk about it.”
“You know where to find me, Cap’n.” She was also the only employee who didn’t always refer to me as Master Temple.
I leaned over the counter, whispering conspiratorially. “Any particular guests I need to know about?”
She glanced about, making sure no customers were near. “Nope. We’re all prepared for the worst though.” She discreetly slid open a drawer by her long, pale thigh, revealing an empty LockSAF PBS-001 biometric fingerprint pistol case. Every employee had one, and the necessary paperwork for concealment, happily paid for by yours truly. Even with rubber bullets, the guns could impact a world of deterrence. Noticing that Indie wore a tight black pencil skirt, I tried not to imagine where she had hidden her weapon. She smiled sweetly up at me, as if sensing my thoughts.
I leaned back, and nodded. “I just need to step up to my office for a sec, then I’m off again. You mind holding down the fort tonight? I’m not sure where I will be, but my plate is kind of full right now.”
She glanced at the schedule, feigning a frown. “Well, I’ll have to cancel my dinner plans, but if my employer doesn’t mind compensating me for it, I don’t mind. My date is kind of a douche anyway.”
“You debutante!” I laughed. “You know I’m good for it. Rain check for next week, and I’ll take you out for lunch so you can hear all the boring details.”
She nodded. “Only if it’s somewhere good.”
“Your pick.”
She clapp
ed her hands, and I had to force myself to walk away rather than study the reaction of her anatomy. I climbed the stairs to my loft, unlocked the door, and stepped inside, expecting a class five cluster-fuck of a mess, but I was wrong. I had woken up late this morning, and momentarily turned into a tornado while looking for my suit. A smile split my cheeks, and I strode over to the window. Indie was glancing up at me. I mimed a worshipful pose, recognizing her deft hand at cleaning up for me. She deserved a raise. Her smile grew wider as she waved back up at me, and then she returned to her duties.
I changed quickly, and then scanned my desk for Peter’s book request. Spotting the parchment, I shoved it into my jeans pocket, threw on a comfy tee and a jacket, snatched up my Fendi satchel full of magical goodies — including the SIG Sauer X-five pistol Gunnar had gifted me — and locked up behind me. Curious, I approached Indie again. “Any reason I never got the message from Peter earlier in the week?” I waved the note at her. She frowned, unknowing. “Peter said he left it with Jessie.” Her eyes instantly became guilty.
“He seemed like a good guy when I hired him. He’s an odd duck, but he’s still trying to learn the particulars for working for you. Want me to talk to him?” Her face was set in a frown, no doubt anxious to rectify this situation with a Defcon 1 approach. And you wonder why I was hesitant to risk our friendship for a chance at romance.
“No worries. Just see that it doesn’t happen again. I have full faith in you, Indie. If you thought he was worth hiring, then I trust you.” My voice grew darker as I picked up a pirate accent. “No need to make him walk the plank… yet.”
She grinned back, nodding once. “Aye, aye, Cap’n!” She bellowed loudly.
From around the store, all my employees dropped what they were doing to salute in my direction; a chorus of shouts that startled the customers. “Aye, aye, Cap’n!”
I saluted back. “See you later, Ind-” She held up a finger, commanding my obedience. I frowned, but waited. As slowly and deliciously as an exotic dancer, she raised an arm from behind the counter, dangling a white paper sack like the dancer would dangle a pair of panties. Her face glowed with pride. “You. Are. An. Angel.” I said, snatching up the bag of freshly brewed colada. She nodded before turning to a nearby customer, engaging them with her full attention. Raise for Indie. Check.
I headed out to my car that was parked in front of the store. It had cost quite a bit to get the city to allow me to purchase the space as a permanent spot, but it was definitely worth it. After all, like my father always said, money doesn’t spend itself. I gunned the engine with a throaty roar, and sped off towards Gunnar’s office. Time for answers, I told myself.
Chapter 11
A ny way you can tighten up the pixels?” I asked, squinting. “It looks like an Etch ‘n Sketch. By a blind amputee.” I studied the screen. “With cerebral palsy.”
“If you would just give me a damn second.” Gunnar snapped. “We aren’t all billionaires who can afford a year’s salary on a stupid Apple desktop. The neighbors call only came in five minutes ago, and I tapped into the street cam three minutes ago.”
I waited; sipping a shot of the still-steaming colada that Indie had given me. Dusk had begun to descend upon the city as I reached Gunnar’s office. Being in one of the higher levels of the FBI building, I had a pleasant view of the city from my chair. Gunnar’s fingers shot toward me — imploring — as I began to take a meditative sip. With a sigh, I poured him a shot of his latest addiction. He downed it, never moving his eyes from the screen.
I had created a monster.
As if fueled by the caffeine, his fingers flew across the keyboard of the desktop in a blur. Moments later, the picture on the digital screen cleared, revealing a recognizable image this time. He clicked play.
A female in a long trench coat entered a downtown bookstore. Nothing scary about that. Then Gunnar jumped ahead ten minutes. The same woman walked out, the street slightly darker now. She dipped into an uninhabited alley and dropped her trench coat. As the garment fluttered to the ground, there was a flash of pale nudity, and then a long, red tail knocked over a trashcan before disappearing into the shadows. Gunnar was watching me. “Damn. Dragons again. Must be one of Raven’s sisters.”
“What, like real dragons?” He asked.
“Of course, real dragons.” I grumbled; mimicking the dragon hunter, Tomas, I had met at the cemetery. I explained his description of the shape-shifting dragons to Gunnar. “You were telling me that this isn’t the FBI’s first sighting?”
Gunnar shook his head, leveling me with angry eyes. “Third. One bookstore owner died of hypothermia, but the thermostat in his store was set at 73 degrees. The other was found covered in infectious blisters, oozing puss and bacteria. But he had been to the doctor a few days prior, and had walked away with an impeccable physical report. Neither of them makes any sense. Then this. But at least this one is still alive. It’s my first case in charge of the new team I was telling you about last night, and I still wouldn’t even know what we were dealing with if you hadn’t just told me. Which is the whole point of the new team.” He glanced around warily. “A team that is more capable of dealing with our kind of stuff.”
“We need to go check this out. Now.” I stood, curious about the odd particulars of the other deceased victims.
Gunnar nodded. “Alright, I’ll call my squad to swing by after we check it out. I kind of want you off the books, for now,” He added sheepishly. “But tell me what else you found out, and how.”
“On the way.” I answered. Gunnar snatched up a coat the size of a tarp, locking his computer and darting out the door behind me. “We’ll take my car.” Gunnar scowled. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but I held up a finger, motioning to all the agents swarming around us. He clamped shut, unhappy, but understanding. The elevator door whisked open before me, and Gunnar’s boss, Special Agent in Charge, Roger Reinhardt, stepped out. He was also a large man, full of authority. He wore short-cropped dark hair, looking every inch the politician, but I knew he was good at his job. He knew how to play the bureaucratic games with the big boys. His eyes widened at the sight of me, quickly searching for my visitor’s badge. I waved it at him so he wouldn’t have a heart attack.
“Nathin Temple. My deepest condolences.” He offered sincerely.
I nodded back, wordlessly stepping past him into the elevator. He turned to Gunnar. “Any progress on the attacks, Agent Randulf?”
“Working on a lead now.” Reinhardt looked dubious, glancing at me. “He’s under my protection.” Gunnar continued. “His shop was broken into last night, just like the others, but the perp escaped. He might be able to identify the assailant.” Reinhardt still looked unconvinced, but finally nodded.
“Have you found any… special consultants yet?” Gunnar shook his head. Interesting. It meant that Reinhardt didn’t know that I was a special consultant, which also meant that my secret alter ego as a wizard was still safe. Goody. “I’m taking a big risk with your task force, Agent Randulf. Consulting with alleged… gifted individuals to help us catch gifted criminals still sounds like some bad Hollywood movie, but I have to admit that things are getting… weirder out there.” He grimaced at that, as if it left a sour taste in his mouth. I tried to keep my face blankly innocent and aloof. “It still feels like making a deal with the devil. Don’t make me look a fool.” He studied me curiously for a few seconds, sizing me up, and then he strode away.
Gunnar joined me in the elevator as I hit the lobby button. Music played in the tiny steel box as we descended, not speaking. It was a huge deal for Gunnar to lie about the Raven escaping, even though the cause was worth it. It was also worthy of note to hear that Agent Reinhardt assumed that Gunnar was simply ‘consulting’ with other freaks, and not that Gunnar was one of those freaks himself.
“Consulting, eh?” I offered.
Gunnar glanced at me, eyes tight. “It’s the only way… for now. We need a home run. Neither the local law
enforcement, nor the FBI can handle this type of thing. That’s why Reinhardt is allowing me to do this. He knows, even if he won’t admit it, that the crimes in this city are growing beyond his scope of understanding. He saw one of the other videos. I thought he was going to faint when he saw the tail.”
“Well, then. Time to roll the dice.” Gunnar grunted as the doors chimed open. Exiting the secure building, we hopped into my car and rode downtown. I handed him the kerchief from my pocket on the way, explaining its origins.
He studied it critically, even sniffing it. I guess it’s a wolf thing. “Mind if I run some tests on it?” I shook my head, paying attention to the road in order to bottle away the pain of parting with my father’s kerchief. “The solar eclipse… Raven mentioned that too. Any idea what it means?” I shook my head again. “And you say you’ve never seen this old man before the funeral?”
“No. But he knew some pretty heavy magic. My power slid off of him like rain, and then he simply walked out. His appearance could have just been a cover, but he obviously has access to Temple Industries, and my parents hand-selected each and every employee. He also knew the code to the Mausoleum. As far as I know, only three people knew that code, and two of them are now dead.”
“Could he be one of the… dragons?” The word was tough for him to say aloud.
“I don’t think so. He gave me a lead. I’m pretty sure that’s out of countenance with the Evil Bad Guy Bible.” Another thought hit me. “And he didn’t have horizontal pupils.” Snow was still piled up on the street banks from the night before.
“I almost forgot about that. Creepy.” I nodded, glancing over at my friend; he was practically hugging the dash of the small sports car with his massive bulk.
“Her magic matched the color of her irises, and even her hand when it started to change into that nasty manicure job that tried to slice your throat. At least that’s what caught the Dragon Hunter’s attention.”
Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1) Page 7
