Old Fashioned_Phantom Queen_Book 3_A Temple Verse Series

by Shayne Silvers

  “I don’t t’ink ye heard me, so I’ll say it again. Get. Out.” I stepped out of the bathroom and tossed my spare clothes on the kitchen counter, then set the Gateway grenade on top of them. Nate eyed the grenade for a moment, but then his focus fell entirely on me.

  “What the hell happened to you?” he asked, eyes widening.

  I grunted, reached under the sink, and pulled out the sawed-off I kept stored there, for emergencies. I swung it around, leveling it at the wizard. “Get the fuck out.”

  Nate’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t want to—”

  “Now!” I barked.

  Suddenly, my door busted open. I swung around, but, before I could react, Jimmy Collins came charging in, headed directly for Nate as if planning to tackle him to the ground. To his credit, Jimmy almost made it; he was a foot away when he slammed into an invisible wall of air. Nate flicked his wrist and the detective slid across the floor, dazed, but unhurt. “He one of yours?” Nate asked, coolly. “If not, I can take him off your hands…”

  “You heard what she said, you prick,” Jimmy said, rising to one knee. “Get out.”

  “Jimmy!” I chastised. “I’ve got this under control. I don’t need your help.”

  “It didn’t sound like it from out there,” Jimmy said, jerking his head towards my gaping doorway.

  “And so ye decided to kick down the damn door? It was unlocked, ye big idgit!”

  Jimmy began to hang his head, realizing he’d overreacted, when Nate spoke up again, “Not very bright, this one. I recommend sending the defective ones back.” Jimmy’s head popped back up. He sneered and lunged at the wizard, only to be knocked back a second time.

  Nate sighed and picked a piece of flint off his shirt. “Batteries definitely not included.”

  “I swear, if ye don’t get the fuck out of me place right now,” I said, “I’ll—”

  But I never got to finish. Because this time, when Jimmy lunged at Nate, he wasn’t knocked back. In fact, he connected, tearing jagged holes in Nate’s shirt from where his claws—yes, Jimmy’s fucking claws—caught the wizard. Nate danced back in time to avoid a second swipe, ducked, and struck a blow of his own, sending Jimmy flying backwards riding a small fireball. The detective collided against my wall and fell to one knee.

  Except he didn’t look anything like the Jimmy I knew.

  The creature that clambered back to its feet was covered in silver and black fur, with chestnut brown eyes, a full head taller than Jimmy, clearing seven feet; his pointed ears threatened to brush the ceiling. And yet he was thinner than Jimmy, too, his limbs longer. I’d only seen something like this thing once before, months ago, in a different dimension—but she’d been all white, with nine tails.

  Nate stared up at the creature Jimmy had become with undisguised glee. “Oh, good,” he said, his grin predatory. “I was starting to feel bad for beating up on a Regular. Let’s see if that bite can keep up with that annoying bark.” Nate threw his arms wide, and, in an instant, whips—one of crackling ice and the other of liquid flame—appeared in either hand, their loose curls popping as the two diametrically opposite elements rubbed against each other.

  Oh, and tore holes in my Goddamned furniture.

  “Oy! Take it outside!” I yelled.

  Jimmy yipped, hunkered down to all fours, and prepared to leap at the wizard. Nate flicked his wrists, his whips snaking incrementally to crack against my floors as he waited for his opponent to attack. I braced myself, wondering how I was going to explain the damage to the Homeowner’s Association, cursing.

  But then, before either could strike, a golden light burst through the room, blinding us all.

  And a voice rang out.

  “Did you know that someone is home in three out of every ten burglary cases?” Eve asked.

  I groaned, massaging my eyes.

  “What the fuck was that?” Nate snarled.

  “Nate Temple. Master Temple. Would-be King of St. Louis.” Eve’s voice was matter-of-fact, as if reading from a database. Nate whirled towards the voice, spotting the potted plant, blinking rapidly, but she simply went on. “The Rider of Hope. The Fifth Horseman.”

  “Allegedly,” Nate growled.

  “Catalyst. Murderer. Friend. Son. Father…no…” Eve drifted off, her usual robotic tone gave way to something soft and uncertain that sent the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up. “No. Not father. Tell me, Master Temple…when did you last see the boy?”

  Nate blanched, and his whips winked out as if he had been tased in the groin, the anger in his face replaced by sudden fear. Before I could so much as call after him, he flung out a hand and bolted through the Gateway that abruptly flared into existence with a roar of white flame, screaming someone’s name.

  The Gateway snapped shut.

  Jimmy, meanwhile, had fallen onto all fours. He’d shifted back to his usual self, and sweat poured from him, soaking through his clothes—most of which hadn’t suffered from his transformation, though his shirt was singed from Nate’s pyrotechnics. I swung to face him, keeping the shotgun out just in case.

  But it seemed Eve wasn’t done.

  “James Collins. Detective James Collins. Jimmy. Former marine. Navy Cross recipient,” her voice got quiet again. “Infected.”

  “Infected with what?” I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.

  “I’m becoming like her,” Jimmy said, through clenched teeth. “Like that bitch who tore out my throat. I can feel it. I can feel her…trying to get out, to go through me.”

  “Detective James Collins,” Eve said, sorrowfully. “The Silver Fox.”

  Everything fell into place all at once. This was what Jimmy had been hiding from me. Why he blamed me.

  Jimmy rose, shakily, and met my eyes, his own dancing with rage. “Do you understand now?” he asked. “This is what you’ve done to me. This is why I hate you. Not only did you not let me die. You made me a monster.”

  I took a hesitant step back, raising the shotgun barrel a few inches, in case he decided to strike; his body language said it was definitely a possibility. Jimmy glanced down at the gun, snarled, and walked out—leaving me in an empty, trashed apartment.

  Well, fuck.

  He could have at least helped pick up.

  Chapter 40

  The hospital room was bright, but not particularly cheery. I slid in and gently shut the door behind me. Jeffries sat beside Warren, asleep, one arm in a sling, his head supported by a neck brace. He had bags under his eyes to go with the bruises on his face. Lakota looked better, at least. She’d gone back to wearing her androgynous suit and tie, hair pulled back into a braid. She didn’t notice me until I was practically on top of them.

  “Quinn!” Lakota rushed over to me, startling Jeffries. “You’re alright!”

  “Aye, of course,” I replied.

  “I didn’t know what to think,” Lakota admitted. “One second you were there, then gone the next.”

  “She has a knack for walking away from the fights without letting us know,” Jeffries interjected. “That makes two, now.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “Aye, and I wanted to say I’m sorry. I came as soon as I found out ye were here.” That wasn’t strictly true; first I’d called our maintenance guy to come see about fixing my poor door, then showered, called Othello, and slept.

  But my lie sounded better.

  “Didn’t have anywhere else to be,” Jeffries said, sounding as bad off as he looked. “The Agency has us on review. One Agent down, and another missing. Doesn’t exactly look great.”

  “So, Robin filled ye in on what happened to Hilde, then?” I asked. I had wondered whether the redcap would be brave enough to break the news about their partner. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to be the bearer of that bad news.

  “He did,” Lakota said. “He also said you found something we might be able to use to track her down?”

  “Aye, I’ve got me people workin’ on that,” I said. “Well, me person,
anyway.”

  I didn’t really have people.

  I had a people.

  But Othello was ten times the investigator I was, so I figured I could rely on her to find answers I couldn’t. She hadn’t been happy to hear about Nate popping up in my apartment, or to find out she’d missed out on my showdown with Jack Frost and a small contingent of armed werebears. But, once I explained what I needed, she’d been more than happy to help. She’d even managed to pull off a freaking miracle.

  “Your person?” Jeffries asked.

  “She’s especially good at findin’ t’ings. People included. Speakin’ of which,” I said, checking the time on the burner phone I’d purchased until Othello could send me a new one—now that had been a dicey conversation, “ye lot should keep an eye out.”

  “For—” Lakota began, but was cut off by the sound of a Gateway appearing. A tall, blonde woman in a white lab coat strode through the opening, studying a clipboard through trendy spectacles. She pursed her lips and snapped her fingers; the Gateway disappeared. Jeffries and Lakota stared at the woman, eyes comically wide, mouths hanging slack.

  “Special Agent in Charge Jeffries and Agent Lakota,” I said, “this is Lizzie. She works for the Academy. The Wizard Academy,” I added, for clarification.

  “Lisandra, please. No one calls me Lizzie,” she said, still eyeing the contents on her clipboard.

  “I do,” I said, winking at the two agents.

  Jeffries scowled, and Lakota looked uncertain. “And what is she doing here?” Jeffries asked, finally.

  “I’m here to wake up this young man,” Lisandra replied. “Sorry, give me a moment. I’m trying to examine his charts, in case I missed anything.” She flipped a few pages and tossed the clipboard on the room’s only other bed, which was mercifully empty; I had no idea how he’d explain this to a Regular without blaming their medication. She marched to Warren’s bedside, opposite Jeffries, and held out her hand. Tendrils of green smoke billowed out from her palm, and then, with a crackle of electricity, a slender scalpel rested in her hand.

  “What are you going to do with that?” Jeffries asked, alarmed.

  Lisandra grunted. “I’m going to stimulate his brain using magic while I cut away any damage I find. Ms. MacKenna tells me he’s psychic, which means the coma is probably more metaphysical than physical. His way of coping with his own pain.”

  “Oh,” Jeffries said, settling back into his chair with an anxious sigh.

  Lisandra arched an eyebrow. “No arguments?”

  “No, I can sense you’re telling the truth,” Jeffries replied.

  “Is that right?” Lisandra glanced over at me pensively. “Ms. MacKenna, you really do keep the most interesting company.”

  I frowned. “No pokin’ around inside his or any of the other Agents’ heads, Lizzie. We had a deal.”

  Lisandra sighed. “Oh, very well.”

  “A deal?” Lakota whispered, sidling up beside me as we watched Lisandra work.

  “Aye,” I replied. “I had to offer her somethin’ in return for her help, after all.”

  “What did you offer?”

  “My corpse.”

  “Your what?” Lakota asked, staring up at me in shock.

  “I figure it’s like donatin’ me body to science…sort of. Besides, this way at least I know somebody’s goin’ to care when I die,” I quipped, winking.

  Lakota frowned, studying me. “You actually half-believe that.”

  Damn. Well, then, no more confessions in front of the Seer.

  “And how about you?” I asked, changing the subject entirely. “When were ye goin’ to tell me ye weren’t a boy, after all?”

  Lakota blushed, then shrugged. “It’s not like I have an identity crisis going on or anything. It’s just, when you work with as many men as I do, and you can see into their souls…let’s just say it’s for my peace of mind.”

  I scowled. “Surely, they don’t all t’ink like that, do they? What about when they look at Hilde? What d’ye see, then?”

  “Hilde’s different. She could take any of them, and deep down, most of them know it. The only men who are attracted to her are either true alpha males, or guys looking for someone who’ll kick the shit out of them. The ones who are attracted to me, though…different story.”

  I rested my hand on Lakota’s shoulder. “Well, don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” Lakota nodded, but I could tell something was still bothering her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was, however. I squeezed. “I promise you, I’ll find Hilde and bring her home. I don’t care how, I’ll do it.”

  Lakota glanced at me in surprise. “You really mean that.”

  I nodded. I really, really did. There was no way I was going to abandon Christoff or Hilde. The instant Othello tracked down a lead, I would be there. I wasn’t about to let Christoff’s kids be raised without their parents, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let Lakota down; Hilde meant a lot to her, I could tell.

  “There,” Lisandra said, “it’s done.”

  Warren’s eyes fluttered open.

  Jeffries tore his own gaze from the bedridden psychic and met mine but said nothing. A single tear fell down his battered cheek.

  Because sometimes you don’t even need to say it out loud.

  “You’re welcome,” I said, nodding.

  Chapter 41

  Summer had hit Boston early, the temperatures spiking in late May. Weathermen had predicted record highs, and the possibility of an overly active hurricane season had been the main topic of conversation among my aunt’s horde of gossiping churchgoers; I’d been staying over at Dez’s for the last several days while they fixed my door, and—if I heard another word about climate change—I swore I was going to wade out into the ocean with cement blocks attached to my feet.

  Dez hadn’t been happy to hear I’d had a break-in, but even less happy to find out Jimmy and I were on the outs. She’d always liked him, ever since he and I were kids, and hoped I’d find someone nice and stable to settle down with. If only she’d known how truly unstable Jimmy was, now. That didn’t mean I didn’t feel for the detective, of course. He had been right to blame me for what had happened to him. But, seeing as how I wasn’t prepared to apologize for bringing him back to life, there wasn’t much else for us to discuss.

  Looking at it objectively, I’d have to say radio silence was most definitely in effect across the board. So far Hansel had kept his promise and largely kept the Chancery away from me. Robin had tried to stop by, once, but I’d been out. He left a note, apologizing, claiming he’d ignored Hansel’s wishes in order to come see me. Sadly, while I wanted it to be true, I couldn’t take his word for it; for all I knew Hansel had sent him to gauge how serious I was about my privacy. Under the circumstances, he’d been pretty lucky I was out; I had two shotguns under my sink, now.

  One loaded with iron buckshot.

  The other with silver.

  Because it never hurts to be prepared.

  Speaking of which, I had a bag ready to go at a moment’s notice, provided Othello figured out where Hilde and Christoff had gone. So far, she hadn’t turned up much. We were both leaning towards Russia, since that would be the most obvious place, but—in case you didn’t know—that country is fucking massive; searching for a Valkyrie and a werebear within Russia’s borders was like trying to find a needle in a needlestack.

  Painful, I mean.

  It had been Othello’s suggestion that I reach out to the headmistress of a school in St. Louis on behalf of Christoff’s kids. She’d been extra pissed at me for stealing the “galvanizer,” which she’d been busy looking for all week. But, when I filled her in on how it worked, she’d immediately switched gears—grilling me on how it had functioned and how much damage it had done. Apparently, it wasn’t a weapon, but a battery; I simply hadn’t plugged it in correctly.

  Funny, because I thought it’d worked just fine.

  The school she’d recommended, a haven for wereanimals, was
named Shift. Callie, after speaking with Armor and Starlight, had agreed to oversee the handoff; she knew the headmistress and had nothing but praise. At this point, I wasn’t sure what else I could do for them, at least until I had more news about their mom and dad.

  Othello did, fortunately, have some news regarding Nate Temple’s break-in, but said she couldn’t share the details with me until she’d learned everything; she promised to tell me more about how he’d executed his former fiancée, but swore it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. As if. On the subject of the Huntress, she’d been a little more forthright, although not particularly helpful. Apparently, the Huntress—or Hawteye, as I preferred to call her—had reached out to Othello after I’d been taken by the Academy Justices. Which meant she’d been watching me a lot longer than I’d thought.

  Of course, that was all Othello could tell me. The Huntress was a mystery, supposedly, to even her closest friends. Powerful, but enigmatic, she showed up when she chose and cared only for two people that Othello was aware of: Tory, the very same headmistress of Shift, and a boy named Alex. Which left me with a whole lot of questions.

  Of course, nothing new there.

  But at least I wasn’t dreaming; lately, I’d slept like a baby. In fact, even my waking hours had become relatively uneventful. Eve—after her brief hiatus saying interesting, albeit creepy, things—had gone back to spouting out random trivia as the mood arose. I’d even had time to hire someone to come by and put up a few nifty wards to go along with the state of the art security system I planned to have installed.

  Turns out Dobby was right, after all.

  If I wanted to be safe, it was time I started shutting others out.

  Turn the page to read a brief excerpt from DARK AND STORMY, the fourth installment of the Phantom Queen Diaries.

  Or get a DISCOUNT when you preorder HERE. It will be wirelessly delivered to your Kindle on July 10, 2018.

  SAMPLE: DARK AND STORMY (PHANTOM QUEEN #4)