Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2) (13 page)

So why did I keep dreaming about it? Was it merely because it was all the evidence I had on the room?

And did I dream about Hemingway’s story simply because the grim tale had been on my mind? Or was there some deeper meaning? I shook my head, kicking my shoes off the covers — which I had slept on top of — to place my feet on the ground. Of course it had nothing to do with a deeper meaning. It was a dark fucking story, and I had heard it mere hours before passing out. Of course my dreams incorporated it into their mad funhouse of horrors. That was just how lucky I was.

I was simply over-stressed. Dreaming about the story from the bar, the damn music box, and obviously the Armory. I had already deduced another answer about the boxes from my dreams. My dad had had another moniker for the Armory… Pandora Protocol. Which was how I had heard about the Armory in the first place. He hadn’t elaborated, and I hadn’t asked, but had surmised the direction he might intend with the phrase, and it seemed I hadn’t been far off.

The Pandora Protocol, or Armory, was far from an idea. It was real. Real enough for the Justices of the Academy to hunt me down to obtain. My father had a flair for names. Pandora Protocol for the ‘secrets’ hidden away from mankind inside Pandora’s Box. He would have been a great stage magician, but I was merely glad that no one else had heard his pet name for the project. If the Academy had heard it, they would have no doubt killed me on the spot for thinking it was literal, when my father had merely been an elaborate namer.

I decided to go to the kitchen and scrounge up some food. Maybe snort a line of Tylenol for both my headache and what felt like a broken nose, even though the mirror showed me it wasn’t. I prodded it gently and winced at the insomniac panda staring back at me. The day was starting off well.

I needed to run over to Temple Industries to catch up on some work before Ashley and Gunnar left for Bora Bora. That brought a smile to my face. Gunnar was going to propose to Ashley in a few days.

Silver lining.

Thirty minutes later, my phone began blaring from the nightstand while I was halfway through my pushup routine. I jumped to my feet, ignoring the pounding headache, and snatched up the device. “Gunnar.” I answered, breathing heavily.

“Nate! What the hell happened last night? We tried calling you for an hour. The cop thought it was one of your drunk tricks and wouldn’t take us seriously.”

“Yeah. I talked to him about it after.” I mumbled. If saving his ass from a Demon counted for ‘talking about it,’ we were golden. “I was picked up by some Academy… detectives.” Gunnar was an ex-FBI agent. He could relate to the term
detectives
. Not so much,
Assassin squad
. “They wanted a de-briefing on the debacle a few months back.”

“Didn’t you send them a report already?” He asked, voice tight, as if doubting I had ever sent said report.

“Of course. It was all done up official and everything… via email.” Gunnar sighed. I continued before he could butt in. “They wanted a face-to-face. I gave it to them and told them where to stick any further inquiries.”

Gunnar was silent for a moment. “Which means they didn’t take it very well.”

“Relax. They understand the picture now.”

“That’s odd. Because I don’t even understand the picture.” I sighed. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re alright. I didn’t want to call Indie without solid news, and I heard her mother is in a bad way. I didn’t want to add to it. Neither did Tory, or Ashley.” His tone grew more responsible. “You put us in a tough situation last night. You continue to keep things from her, which makes us keep things from her, which makes a big fucking wall in the trust department. I would appreciate it if you would fix that. Pronto.”

I rolled my eyes. “On it. We talked last night. She’s going to Colorado to take care of her mom. She basically told me to get my shit together while she’s gone so we can square up for round two. At least I’m still in the fight at the moment.”

He sighed on the other end of the line. “Nate… I’m not the king of relationships or anything, but perhaps your love life would be simpler if you wouldn’t relate you’re
talks
to boxing matches. If anything, they could be related to tag-team wrestling matches. You’re supposed to be on the same side, not squaring off against each other.”

“I know.” I admitted. “But-”

“She’s a Regular. Yeah, you told me. It’s becoming smaller and smaller of an issue. Look at Ashley. She’s doing fine, and she’s dating a werewolf. You’re just some schmuck wizard. Really not even in the same league.” I could sense his shit-eating grin over the phone.

“Bad puppy. No treats for you.”

He grunted. “Ashley and I are flying out at 2 pm. Need anything from her before we are incommunicado for a week?”

“Nervous?” I asked seriously.

“Fucking petrified. Square me off against a silver dragon any day, but this… man, it’s a lot of pressure on a guy. What if she says ‘No,’ or waffles about timing? It’s terrifying. Now I know why you stayed single for so long. This commitment thing has a lot of pitfalls.”

I laughed. “Yeah. But this kind of opportunity comes along once in a lifetime. You have to grab it and assert your dominance. Hump the hell out of that leg, know what I mean?”

The line was silent for a few moments. “Nate. I am a werewolf, not a schnauzer. I don’t always think like a dog, nor do I need references made to relate human interactions to their animal equivalent to understand basic concepts.”

“
Who’s a smart puppy? Gunnie! Oh yes, Gunnie is
.”

“Nate. It’s imperative that you stop talking right now.”

“Oh? You’re packing for the most terrifying moment of your life. Proposing to Ashley on a romantic vacation. We won’t see each other for at least a wee-”

The door to my room suddenly imploded in a shower of splinters as a fucking mountain of white fur tackled me to the floor, jaws snapping amidst a flurry of drool and ivory canines. The phone had flown out of my hands to slam into the wall behind me. We tumbled into the nightstand before I managed to retract my instincts to incinerate the threat with magic. Instead, I rolled with my attacker and used my feet to launch him behind me into the dresser. The white haired werewolf sailed into the mirror, shattering it with a heavy crunch before bounding off the dresser itself and rolling to his feet. He sat down on his haunches with a panting doggy grin.

“God damn it, Gunnar!” I snapped, panting heavily as I tried to calm my racing heart and ease my pounding headache. I didn’t know how I had restrained myself from using magic. It had been a near miss. But the fear of the curse being permanent had flown into my mind at the last second. Then I had noticed the white fur. Before I had consciously made a decision, I had used simple grappling techniques to toss him from my personal space, but if it had been a real threat, I wasn’t sure I would have been so lucky.

He shifted from his hairy werewolf form to his usual self — a chiseled, blonde-haired, mountain of a man. His long blonde hair hung around his bearded face, framing his pearly white grin. And he was completely naked. I averted my eyes, which made him laugh. “I warned you to watch your mouth.” He chuckled, glancing at the shredded fabric dotting the floor. His werewolf form didn’t tolerate human-sized clothes very well.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” I answered, pointing at my wardrobe so he could nab a change of clothes.

He nodded in appreciation, opening the dresser as he answered. “Dean gave me a key a while back. To keep an eye on you and Indie. He didn’t know who or what might come looking for you two after the Dragon ordeal.” He cocked his head for a second. “Hey, why didn’t you Hogwarts my ass like you usually do? I mean, to be honest, you kind of just got your ass kicked. Like a little man bitc-”

Before I thought about it, I vaporized like I had learned last night, vanishing from Gunnar’s view to appear directly behind him. Part of my shirt tugged at me, and I saw a piece flutter to the ground where I had been standing a moment before, having been caught in the void of the teleportation spell and not making the trip along with my body. I used the momentum of teleporting — as it felt like riding a rollercoaster — to cold-cock my best friend in the jaw. The resounding
crack
was satisfying as his head snapped to the side and into the dresser before he crumpled to the ground. It only took him a second to shamble to his feet, eyes wide as he blinked up at where I now stood and where I had stood only a second before. He was rubbing his jaw painfully in disbelief.

“Okay… give me a minute… that was pretty… I mean,
wow
. What the
hell
just happened?” He asked in genuine awe.

I grinned back at his astonishment, slowly walking back over to pick up the piece of fabric that had been left behind, hiding my fear of both using my limited power for no real reason, and what might have happened if that little piece had been a more permanent part of me. “I just
Hogwarts’d
your ass.” I answered with a dry, mocking grin.

He blinked at me. “Is that one of the things you’ve been tinkering with in your excessive research sessions? I’ve never seen you do that before.”

“Kind of. Learned it from the Academy thugs last night. Apparently it’s a secret of theirs. They weren’t pleased I picked it up so fast… or at all. Hangovers give me a short fuse. Sorry. You all right?” I asked.

He shook his head as if to clear it. “Yeah. Just didn’t see it coming. How far can you do it? Just in close quarters like you did here?” He asked, curious.

“No. I teleported from Temple Industries to the Bar after my talk with the Academy last night. But that took considerably more power than what I just did.” I said more to myself, realizing that it had barely cost me any of my dwindling magic to clock Gunnar.

“Wow. Well, consider myself all apologized. Just giving you a hard time. I don’t think you pulled that punch at all, did you? Rage issues much?” He asked with a grin. Werewolves could take quite a bit of pain and keep on ticking. Anyone else would have been out cold from my punch. Gunnar was a tough son of a bitch to be sure, and I was glad to have him on my side.

I ignored the comment as he began to throw on a pair of slacks and a tee from the dresser. I kept clothes in his size throughout the house for events just such as this when he needed to replace a destroyed wardrobe. “By the way. Why did you send Tory into the bar last night instead of coming in yourself?”

“It was a powder keg in there, Nate. I can’t believe you could stand it, what with how much loose energy was dancing around in there. I could even sense it from outside. I thought things like that messed with wizards.”

“It does. I’ve just been so tired lately that I must not have noticed it. Or cared if I did. I’m kind of off my game. I’ve been somewhat… reckless lately.” I admitted.

Gunnar grunted. “That’s why I sent Tory in there. My presence would have just instigated a territorial fight from the wolves. Also, Tory isn’t necessarily an enemy of any of the creatures in the bar. She is just a woman with extraordinary power. A supernatural Switzerland to the creatures inside the
Kill
.” At least that had worked in our favor, I thought to myself. “Which leads me to wonder why you were in a
Kill
in the first place. You. Stupid. Bastard.” He enunciated with tightly bottled frustration.

“Easy, swear-wolf. Virgin ears here.”

Gunnar merely stared harder, if that was possible. “Looking for answers again.” I finally answered, plucking my phone up from the carpet. The screen featured a spider web of cracks, eliciting a grumble of displeasure from my throat as I held it up to Gunnar, hoping to change the topic.

He shrugged. “You’re good for it.”

I pressed a button and saw that I could more or less still make out important details. I tossed it in my pocket as Gunnar continued. “Now, back to the important stuff. I thought you gave up searching for information after you were booted from several bars. For life.”

“Nah. Can’t sleep, so I hunt.”

There was a long silence. “You’re still having the nightmares?” I nodded briefly in answer. “Well? Did you discover anything helpful?”

I hesitated. Did I want to bring him into this? Angels were a league of their own. I knew I could trust my friends, but I didn’t want them in over their heads. I had no choice, but they did. “Nah.” I lied. Kind of. “But I have heard a lot of stories about my parents lately. Apparently, a considerable number of people consider them scoundrels. Not as many as praise them, but still… enough to get me thinking.”

“What do you mean? Why would they say anything bad about your parents? They were saints.” Gunnar growled. True. They had helped Gunnar, and many, many others, with various magical maladies. Gunnar was no longer a slave to the cycles of the moon thanks to them. They had given him a rune tattoo that allowed him to shift into a werewolf at will. Most other werewolves couldn’t do such a thing. Unless they were super powerful or super old. Regardless of shifting at will or not, almost all werewolves
had
to shift during the full moon. But Gunnar didn’t. All because my parents knew of an odd rune that allowed him to master his inner wolf .

Now that I thought about it, how the hell had they known how to do such a thing? If it were common knowledge to wizards, I would have heard of it at least a few times. Wizards would have sold that to trusted werewolves for a high price. Or maybe in exchange for an alliance. But I had
never
heard of a wizard doing a spell like that for a werewolf. Odd. Where had they learned it? And that wasn’t the only uniquely magical cure my parents had given back to the community. In fact, it was one of
many
magical cures they had given out. Almost as if they had access to knowledge most wizards didn’t. A shiver ran down my spine as the obvious answer came to me. The Pandora Protocol.

“They allegedly stole some things a time or two, always from old families. Random things that don’t make much sense to me. I’ve heard these items described as heirlooms, paintings, and even ancient knick-knacks with no known nature or origin. Every story is different. But then other people denied those same accusations, admitting the items had been fairly purchased. Regardless, these stories are a decade old. Nothing useful to me now. Still, it’s an odd thing to hear. I think these informants all assumed that if they told me something juicy I could owe them a favor. So I discouraged that line of thought, which got me kicked out of the other bars. Everyone’s just scared after Alaric’s speech at the Eclipse Expo about outing magical creatures. They fear that if I give in, like Alaric told everyone I would, they would all be outed as freaks too. The world is crazy lately.”