Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1)

by Shayne Silvers

  She nodded, smiling sadly. “Of course, Master Temple. It will take time, but I am not going anywhere. Temple Industries is my life. I will run it as if it were my own.”

  “I will hold you to that. I don’t wish for my lifestyle to change now that I am CEO. For all intents and purposes, things will remain the same as before.”

  She smiled sadly, a tear falling onto the personal letter in her own hands. “Your father said you would say that. You are very much alike.” She tucked her letter away, and I didn’t have the heart to ask her what it had said. I wondered how close she had been to my parents. They had worked together every day. This must be the ultimate tragedy for her as well.

  I shook my head as Turner finished reading his own letter. “What did you get? A Rolls Royce?” I asked snidely.

  “Among other things…” Turner answered in a whisper. His eyes were bloodshot. “As with your father, I will always be at your service, Master Temple. Retirement or not.” He straightened his spine, attempting to clear the remorse from the room. I nodded with a genuine smile of gratitude. “One more point of concern.” I nodded. “I must ask that you refrain from any actions that might be deemed notorious in your dealings with the police or FBI.” I frowned. Word got around quick. Or he was just well informed. “The CEO can’t be seen to be involved in official matters. It wouldn’t be good for business. Could you manage this last favor?” I grumbled, but finally nodded to appease him. There was no way in hell I was backing off Gunnar’s case, so I would just have to be discreet about it. “That includes private inquiries into your parents’ deaths. The police can handle it. It is their job to do such, and we can’t have you devoting all of your time to such matters. It would be seen as weakness to the shareholders. Especially any… unplanned meetings with judges.” He added carefully. Damn you, Mallory, I thought to myself, but I finally nodded.

  “In that case,” I spoke, “I will need Miss Belmont’s full cooperation with the police. I have been hassled lately by them in regards to the company and their… deaths. If you could please talk to them and have it all sorted out, it would make things much easier for me to leave alone. Make it clear to them that my taking over the company was not a sneaky move on my part, but that it was the last request of my father.”

  “Of course, Master Temple.”

  Dean piped up. “Well, if business is concluded, would anyone care for steak?”

  Everyone politely declined, not interested in such a heavy meal on such heavy hearts. Mallory leaned closer. “Now that ye have a few nickels, laddie, what ye gonna buy?”

  A smile tugged at my cheeks as I thought of Gunnar. “I know just the thing.”

  Chapter 14

  I t seemed we had many people in the St. Louis area on retainer for late hour transactions. It had taken one phone call, and only a twenty-minute wait for them to have everything prepared. It was good to be king. Now I was racing down the interstate well above the speed limit, dialing Gunnar on speakerphone. The car kept attempting to pair my phone with the built-in Bluetooth, but I kept declining until it devolved into a shouting match between the technology and me. Gunnar finally answered. “Hey.”

  “Gunnar! Where are you?” I bellowed, cool October wind roaring around me, the acoustics surprisingly adequate for a hardtop convertible. I cut someone off with a squeal of tires and furious honking.

  “Should I turn on the news? Because it sounds like you’re in a high-speed car chase.” He answered.

  “No cops. Yet. Listen, where are you?” I answered, a shit-eating grin on my face.

  “Still at the office, why?” I checked the rearview mirror. Mallory was furiously trying to keep up with me, but American Muscle couldn’t match the handling of my ride. Still, he was doing a fair job, cutting off the same guy I had a moment ago, producing another peal of blaring car horns.

  “Good, good. Come outside real quick. I’ll be right there.”

  “Is everything oka-” I hung up, howling like a wolf into the wind.

  I took the next exit, swerving across three lanes to take the turn downtown. I paid no attention to traffic lights, savoring every shade of red I blew through as only a thirsty vampire could appreciate, hoping to lose Mallory, but he doggedly pursued me. No doubt he was going to chastise me, but I couldn’t help myself. Seeing the building, I downshifted, and slid into a 180-degree spin, pulling pretty damn close to the curb. Gunnar was standing outside the door, staring at me with wide eyes, a hand on his gun. Two agents also stood outside, a forgotten cigarette raised halfway to one’s mouth as he stared from Gunnar to my car. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air as I reversed — much more cautiously — to the curb in a nice, orderly parking job… facing the wrong way. I climbed out, brushing a hand through my tousled hair.

  Gunnar trotted over. “What the hell is going on? You showed up like the devil himself was chasing-” He froze as my ‘69 Firebird skidded to a halt in the middle of the street, her throaty grumble soothing in the cool night air. Mallory leaned out the window, grinning like a teenager. “Bloody smooth lady, Master Temple! Bloody smooth!”

  Gunnar stared from me to the old man in my car. “It’s him! He was the one on the roof with us!” He stared at me, eyes still wide.

  “I know. He works for me. Mallory, this is Gunnar. Gunnar, this is Mallory, the man who gave me my father’s kerchief at the mausoleum.” My friend looked as if his brain had shorted out. I capitalized on his moment of confusion. “You’re going to love it.”

  His eyes snapped back to me, not comprehending. “Love what?”

  “Only the best for my BF.”

  One of the agents burst out laughing behind us. I turned to him, smiling broadly. The other agent grunted, handing him a twenty-dollar bill. I shook my head, not understanding their transaction, and saw that Gunnar’s face was beet red. “I’m sure you meant BFF, as in Best Friend Forever, and not BF, which means boyfriend.” He growled, angrily glancing back at the agents.

  I was quiet for a second and then burst out laughing, unable to contain myself at my faux pas. After my laughter receded, I spoke louder than necessary, turning my mistake into a blade against Gunnar. “Whatever you say, sweetie. I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me.” I tossed him the keys to the gleaming orange Aston Martin DBS, already walking towards the driver’s seat of my own car as Mallory climbed into the passenger side.

  Gunnar stared from the car to me, stunned. “For me?”

  “Of course,” I answered, climbing into my car. “My first act as the new president of Temple Industries.”

  The agents were shaking their heads in disbelief, their homophobia momentarily overcome by the sleek sports car. No doubt they would sell this information to the first reporter they could find, but I didn’t care. They stepped up closer to the car, appraising her majestic curves. “You really queer?” One asked me.

  “Read the tabloids and get back to me. I have somewhat of a reputation with the fairer sex.” I winked, revving the engine.

  The second agent chuckled. “That’s putting it mildly. If I took your reputation literally I would lock my daughter away somewhere you could never find her.”

  I leaned out the window with a lecherous grin. “Maybe you should.” His smile wavered a bit before the car regained his full attention again. “Pick me up at the Chateau in the morning, Gunnar, we have much to discuss.” Then, before he could argue, Mallory and I sailed off into the night in a flurry of burning tires.

  Mallory’s cheeks were huffing. “You don’t lead a boring life, Master Temple.”

  “Stick around for the next few days and you’ll see just how right you are.”

  “My old bones don’t be ready for sleep after such a thrill as this beauty.” He declared, patting the dash affectionately.

  I glanced at the time. “You mentioned a discussion over scotch.” He gave an excited nod. “If we hurry, I know where we can find a different type of beauty to enjoy that scotch with us. She’ll be more
entertaining than the 50-year-old Macallan I have stashed away.”

  “Beauty, eh? Two ways to warm an old man’s bones,” He ticked off a finger for each. “A fine young lass, and Macallan. And I do feel a chill. Let’s hurry.” He buckled up, grinning.

  Chapter 15

  A n earthquake rattled my nightstand; the sound shredding what was left of my cerebral cortex. I managed to peel open one bloodshot eye to see that it was just my cell phone vibrating, and realized that I was in one of the guest rooms at Chateau Falco. My head pounded from the night’s activities. Mallory apparently had a cast-iron stomach, and had put me to shame as he, Indie, and I shared one of my father’s $17,000 bottles of Macallan Scotch. We had caught up with Indie just as she was closing up shop, and Mallory had effortlessly snookered her in to join us on our haunt.

  “I be an old man, but I amma’ no dead yet. Would ye care to join us for a nightcap, my wee bonnie-lass?” She hadn’t been able to decline. We had stayed up late, sharing stories about my parents, how Mallory had been first to find their bodies and take the note from my father, his history with the family, and definitely Indie. A whole lot about Indie. Mallory had been infatuated with the stunning manager of my store, and she had eaten it up like candy. I briefly remembered vocally agreeing with Mallory on all points, enthusiastically sharing my interest in Indie, and shuddered. Had I said something I wouldn’t be able to take back? Had I told her how I truly felt about her and possibly ruined our friendship?

  Damn it all.

  There was only one way to find out.

  I seriously considered blasting my phone into oblivion, but managed a semblance of humanity, and answered. “Ow.”

  “Nate! You all right?” It was Gunnar, and he was — dare I say — giggling. “This car is incredible! You had breakfast yet?”

  “Shhh…” I fumbled at the nightstand and almost knocked over a glass of water. Three Advil sat beside it.

  God bless Dean.

  I considered crushing the pills and snorting them. Gunnar interrupted my thought.

  “I can’t hear you very well. Must be the fact that I’m driving a convertible!” He bellowed, shattering my eardrums like a swarm of pygmies reenacting a Stomp concert in the auditorium of my skull. “I’ll see you in a minute. I’m at the gate now.” The sound lessened and I heard him speaking to someone else. Then, “Thanks, Dean! See you in a minute, Nate!” My phone beeped in my ear as he hung up, piercing my eardrum anew.

  I fell out of bed, kneeling on the floor as I snatched up the pills and water. I guzzled them down and managed to stumble to my feet before I noticed that I was naked. The room swayed slightly, and I chuckled, realizing that I was still slightly drunk. I shambled over to a wardrobe, threw on one of the heavy robes from the closet, and carefully zigzagged my way to the bathroom. After four tries, I managed to tear open one of the packages of toothbrushes that were stored in each bathroom, and brushed my teeth from a fresh tube of Aquafresh, my favorite. I opened the door, and stretched my toes into the shag rug over the marble floor just outside the room, letting out a groan of contentment. Shuffling down the hall, I almost ran straight into Dean, who had no doubt been coming to warn me of the inbound intruder. He studied me with an amused grin. “Did Gunnar receive the gift well?” Dean asked.

  “He giggled.” I answered.

  “Hmmm… a grown man, giggling. Inappropriate.” He turned his back on me, clapping his hands together like Zeus casting twin thunderbolts. “Breakfast is served in the main kitchen!” He bellowed for all to hear. I heard a feminine grunt from the room next to me, and then a thud as said someone fell out of her bed. I smiled, glad that I wasn’t the only one still intoxicated. Then Indie began laughing.

  The door burst open beside me and Indie flew out of the room in a drunken stumble, eyes glowing brightly as she bumped into me. She wore only a silk robe, and it was apparently very, very cold in her room, according to the little protrusions threatening to tear the silk robe over the centers of the pleasant swell of her breasts. Her bare feet arched as she stretched out, wrapping her arms over my shoulders and collapsing into me for a totally indecent hug. She leaned back, still holding on, and beamed up at me. Her breath smelled of fresh mint, and she had washed her face. Her soft, wavy hair tickled my neck. I needed a cold shower, stat. “That was so much fun! You’ve been holding out on me, Nate. We should do it again some time.” I spied Dean squinting at me in disapproval from the staircase, as if I was contemplating corrupting Indie’s virtue in the hallway.

  I cleared my throat, and patted her back neutrally. “Too true.” I glanced back at the stairs, but Dean had left. “Are you still… a little drunk?” She nodded, grinning wider. I brushed a hand through my hair. “Good. I had hoped it wasn’t just me. They should put a warning label on that bottle.”

  “I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.” Still pressed against me, she patted my chest with her hand, mimicking my heartbeat. “Thump-thump.” She said, giggling. She curiously fingered my dragon tooth necklace with a frown, but didn’t say anything. “Let’s go eat!” She dragged me down the stairs bodily, never letting go of my hand. Her eyes roamed her surroundings as we walked. “This place is so beautiful! Why do you live at the loft when you have this?”

  I shrugged, catching her as we both stumbled and almost knocked over a priceless vase. She laughed, and then danced forward a few steps, spinning in a cute pirouette with her hands above her head. I jumped forward to catch her again as she almost fell. She stared up at me for several moments, complete trust filling her eyes. Neither of us turned away; we just stared. “Always there to catch me…” She raised a hand to brush my cheek affectionately, her fingers as smooth as silk. “But who do you have to catch you, Nate?” Her eyes grew sad, almost wet.

  “Me strong. Need no help.” I growled in a caveman voice as I tugged her back up.

  She shook her head with a smile. “Maybe, but it doesn’t always have to be that way. You deserve the world, boss.” With a wink, she tugged me ahead again, leading me into the kitchen to find Dean serving three plates of eggs and bacon onto the large table. A fire was roaring in the fireplace, making the air toasty and warm. Indie’s frozen form slowly thawed, much to my disappointment.

  I wondered if I was reading too much into our drunken dance through the halls, or if I was really too obtuse to see it any sooner than now. Did Indie care for me too? She tugged my hand to a nearby chair, plopping down with a grin. Her hair was a mess, but she somehow managed to look alluring, a natural beauty, nothing like the magazine covers. Her beauty was pure. I found myself glancing at her often. I noticed that the top of her robe hung loose, revealing an impressive expanse of rounded bosom. I felt her eyes turn to me and I quickly looked away. She stretched her arms above her head with an amused grin as she stared me in the eyes, knowingly. My face grew heated.

  “How is Mallory?” Indie asked Dean, still smiling.

  Dean glanced over a shoulder, slapping a kitchen towel over his neck. “He was up an hour ago, going to the gym, if I recall correctly.”

  Our jaws dropped. He was working out? We were still tipsy, and he was working out. He was like eighty-years-old. Indie turned to me with raised eyebrows. I shrugged. “Bon appetite.” I shoveled a fork in my mouth, groaning at the pleasant taste. I heard a chime, and Dean glanced down at his phone.

  He punched a number on the screen, and then spoke. “Come in, Agent Randulf. Just follow the lighted path, and you’ll find us in the kitchen. I set out a plate for you.” He typed a rapid staccato on his phone, no doubt illuminating the correct lights to guide Gunnar to the food.

  I could vaguely see the video chat on the phone. “Thanks, Dean. I’ll be right there.” Dean clicked off the phone, and tucked it back into his pocket.

  Gunnar appeared a few minutes later. “Hey, Nat-” He halted, seeing Indie. “And the plot thickens…” He said with a face-splitting grin. “Good morning, Indie. I didn’t realize you were occupied, Nate. I don’t want to i
ntrude on your breakfast.” He was barely hiding his smile as he noticed Indie’s silk robe, and my own heavier robe. She grinned wide, turning to face me expectantly.

  “We had a few drinks last night. I mean, not just us. Mallory was there too.”

  Gunnar grinned. “Oh? Where is Mallory now?”

  Indie continued smiling, remaining silent as she glanced back and forth, egging Gunnar’s false assumption on. “He’s at the gym.” I realized how lame it sounded after I spoke. “Shut up and sit down, Gunnar. Or leave. Whichever is fastest.” He chuckled and sat down, sweeping up the third plate without shame.

  Indie kept the guilty smile on her face, leaving me to the wolves. Or wolf, in this case. “How have you been, Gunnar?” Indie asked, immediately followed by a full body hiccup that didn’t go unnoticed by any of the present males.

  “I’ve been good, Indie. And you?”

  “Great! We had such a fun time last night. We sampled some delicious scotch… well, more than sampled, I guess.” She giggled at him, and Gunnar smiled back.

  “Nate knows how to have a good time. Too much so sometimes, but he’s a good man. He’s lucky to have a friend like you around to keep him out of trouble.”

  She nodded, serious. “I know.” They shared a smile.

  “Thanks for that, Dr. Phil. You almost finished?” I growled.

  Gunnar apparently wasn’t. “So, moving on up, huh?” He waved a fork at the house in general.

  “Package and parcel deal from the surprise last will and testament read to me last night. The same package and parcel that got you your new car.” Gunnar nodded, a mixture of sadness at the reason and happiness at the result. “I’ll explain later,” I said as he opened his mouth to ask another question. He nodded, tearing into his plate hungrily.

  We ate in silence, the two of them grinning wide, but remaining silent. I stood, set Indie’s empty plate atop mine, and attempted to carry them to the sink. Dean swept past me like a shadow, snatching up the plates with a frown, and continued on to the sink, offended. He took his job very seriously.