Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2) (10 page)

And saw that it was dead.

I blinked at it. Had I not charged it? I had been forgetting more and more of these simple tasks as my sleep deprivation increased, which probably wasn’t a good sign for my mental well being in the long haul. Like an elevator button, I pressed the power button repeatedly, confident that persistence would pay off. But, like the elevator, it didn’t.

I looked up, judging how far I would need to walk to catch a cab. I wasn’t necessarily in a spot many cabbies visited of their own choice. That was fine. Perhaps a walk among the
Mardi Gras
patrons would help sober me up a bit. Give me time to plan my vacation with Indie. Then I hesitated. But I
couldn’t
go on a vacation now, not with this curse. I scowled at nothing in particular. Damn Jafar.

I began hoofing it, striding drunkenly along with angry stomps of my feet. Jafar would pay for that, but for now, I merely had to get home. And to do that, all I had to do was make it to a main thoroughfare. Simple. I quickly realized that there weren’t many people on the street, but I could still hear them off in the distance. They had most likely congregated to a more
happening
place. A place with more bare breasts than Achilles Heel. After all, starving college girls needed beads for food, right? Someone had to provide for them. I realized I was idly searching my pocket for beads, which brought my thoughts back to Indie. She was no doubt at Chateau Falco, wondering why I wasn’t back home yet. I wondered if Gunnar or Tory had called her, terrifying her with my abrupt disappearance. If so, I was in for a rough night.

I spotted a mounted patrol officer near a streetlight a hundred feet ahead of me and began to walk faster. He probably hadn’t seen me clearly yet. After all, I was standing in a vast pool of darkness between the dim glows of the aged lights. Neighborhoods like this one didn’t have too serious of a relationship with the city’s maintenance crew. More like casual one night stands. I smiled as I sashayed in a mostly straight line towards him. I wasn’t in that rough of a neighborhood if a mounted police officer was standing watch.

That’s when I smelled it.

Brimstone.

The little hairs on the back of my neck jumped to attention as my eyes squinted, trying to retain any night vision I could. How had I missed the odor? Especially after being told repeatedly that I was doused in it. But this time it wasn’t me. This was fresh. I shook the thought away as a dry, raspy voice seemed to whisper directly into my ear. “Does the Master Temple need a ride?”

I jumped, twisting like a cat in midair, swinging my arms wildly in a carefully orchestrated defensive maneuver. Lucky for him, I missed entirely. But I knew it had to have scared him a little. It was a ferocious display of the pure essence of manliness incarnate.

“Was that a seizure?” Its voice crackled drily, pretending not to be terrified.

I didn’t speak as I continued to stare in the general direction of the voice, hoping to get a solid glimpse of what I was up against. In the darkness, a shape materialized out of nothing, as if unshedding the very night from his shoulders. A Demon. He looked similar to a man, but covered in gravel-like skin. Rough and rigid. Not scales, but like hardened, hundred-year old, weathered lava that had cooled off sometime before the ice age. Other than that, he was a beautiful specimen of the health benefits in Hell. I scowled. “No need to act tough. I know I scared you too.”

“Yes. Very frightening, mortal. Almost made me lose my appetite.” With a puff of ash, he was gone. I took a step back, questing the darkness, and flinched as his voice whispered in my ear again. Behind me. “Almost…” I whirled, trying to keep him in my sights, wondering how he had moved so stealthily. He chuckled, a sound like snakes slithering through dead leaves in the fall.

Fall
.
Fallen
, my subconscious repeated, remembering my encounter at the bar.

I shook my head and briefly wondered exactly what Demons were.
Were
they all Fallen Angels? Or were some just damned souls? I raised my hand. The Demon hesitated, cocking his head before nodding for me to proceed. “What exactly is a Demon? Are you just some poor bastard who made bad life decisions, or are you a Fallen Angel?”

He hissed in spittled fury like a doused cat. “Do not blaspheme against my master. You are not worth the breath the Fallen take.”

“You guys breathe?” I asked in disbelief. The Demon merely stared at me. “I mean, I guess I just thought that it was kind of hot and ashy down in hell, and that there wouldn’t be much oxygen. I’m not much of a geography guy, so I hope you don’t take offense. I honestly don’t know what’s down there. I’ve heard it’s … less than ideal though, you know? But what about you? You’ve
been
there and everything!” I slowly began walking as I talked, hoping to get closer to the cop I had seen a moment ago. The officer seemed to be watching me curiously, or at least squinting in my general direction, but I knew that if the Demon saw his attention, the man was as good as dead. “So, what’s your opinion on hell? Good, bad, need a bit of a renovation? You obviously find it more desirable up here, or else you wouldn’t be here.” Another step. “Are you even allowed up here without a hall pass?” Another step. I was now only a few feet away from the edge of the streetlight’s glow. “Or would a summoner do the trick? Yeah. That could work. Someone calls you up here, you answer. No harm in that, right?”

“Everything alright over here?” A deep baritone called out. “Who are you talking to?” It was the same cop from outside the bar earlier. “Master Temple?” The officer barked in disbelief, finally recognizing me. Tory or Gunnar must have told him who I was after my disappearance. “What happened to your face? And where did you run off to earlier? Were you mugged?” He began to reach for his radio to call in backup.

The Demon hissed in annoyance and frustration at my banter, having realized too late that he had missed his chance to take me out with ease. Then the Demon slowly relaxed. “This could have been so easy. I just wanted to introduce you to my master. But you had to involve the constabulary. Now I’ll have to paint the sidewalk with his blood. Loose lips sink ships. Give me a moment. I’ll be right back so we can continue our chat.” He grinned, gravel crackling off his skin as he exploded into motion. That’s when the cop finally saw what I had been talking to. Before then, the Demon had stayed in the shadows.

To the cop’s credit, he reacted pretty fucking fast. He moved his hand from the radio to his holster like Clint Eastwood. His gun coughed four times in less than a few seconds as the Demon hurtled towards him and his horse, Xavier. The majority of his shots rang true, judging from the puffs of gravel exploding from the Demon’s torso. The horse dodged the first swipe of the Demon by sheer luck, but the creature rebounded immediately, tackling the officer from the horse’s back like an NFL linebacker going toe-to-toe against a high school freshman team. I was on top of the Demon in a blink, not sure how I had moved so fast, grabbing him by the throat with one hand, my magic flooding through my arm for strength as I slammed his body into the streetlight twice in quick succession. Things inside of him cracked at the impact, but he wasn’t done. Then the horse reared up, planting an iron hoof in the Demon’s chest and sending him clear across the street to slam through a glass window in a tinkling shower of broken shards. The building trembled. “Alley-oop!” I crowed. “Good assist, Xavier!”

He snorted a nervous breath, eyes wide, but didn’t bolt. The cop was out cold, but was breathing steadily. I had no time, and didn’t want to risk duking it out with the Demon when I didn’t know how much power I would need to use to win, and with a cop who could possibly wake up at any second. Only to be brutally murdered the next second or two.

So I did the only logical thing my fuzzy brain could think of. I…
invisibled
him. I cast a weak illusion spell over the cop’s body, hiding all trace that he was lying in the grass unconscious, and grabbed Xavier’s reins. I mounted the horse as I heard the Demon cursing from deep inside the building with feral roars of anger. Then we were galloping away into the night towards the masses of humanity celebrating
Mardi Gras
.

The wind in my hair felt good, even if it was cold. Freedom and escape always did taste great. A few minutes later we were far away from the Demon, and there were people everywhere, many pointing up at me — a man who was definitely not a police officer riding what was definitely a police officer’s horse. That sobered me up a bit. What if a cop saw me? It wasn’t grand theft auto, but it was most definitely a crime. I couldn’t just leave Xavier to wander around on his own though. Some drunk would no doubt find the courage to mount the horse and cause some mayhem…

Heh.

Pot. Kettle. Black. Yeah, I get there eventually.

The only way forward was to take the horse to Chateau Falco and find a way to discreetly return him in the morning. I didn’t have time to debate with myself. I had fire in my belly, an unconscious cop hidden a quarter mile behind me, a fine steed between my legs, and a Demon on my heels. I leaned over to a group of gawking sorority co-eds. “Beads, please.” A pretty redhead flashed me. “No, you’ve got it backwards.” I said with a grin. I flashed her my chest instead.

“Oh, right.” She giggled, obviously hammered, before handing me a fistful of beads.

“You’re Master Temple!” One of her drunken friends chimed in loudly. I nodded with a smile. Her group of friends froze in awe. Then they all flashed me for good measure. I laughed like a maniac, tossing half the beads back before spurring Xavier on. Time to go talk to Indie.

Chapter 9

I
t took me a while, but it was a pleasant way to sober up, after growing accustomed to the rhythmic gyration of the horse’s stride. And even better, I hadn’t been spotted. Well, I hadn’t been
stopped
. Plenty of people spotted me on my way home, which only added to the thrill.

I wish I could have snapped a picture of my Butler’s face when I pulled up to the gated drive of Chateau Falco atop Xavier. It was priceless. Of course, I didn’t offer an explanation, and Dean never asked for one. Despite this being a first, he was too proper to question the Master Temple. He merely asked if either of us needed refreshment. I patted Xavier’s head. “Horsey want an apple?” The horse snorted. I guessed that was a yes.

I tied Xavier off to one of the cars left outside the garage near a patch of withered grass. A silver bowl of sliced apples had been placed on the doorstep. I grinned, picking it up and heading back to Xavier. I fed him a few slices, and then walked him inside the garage to stay warm, as it was climate controlled inside, and definitely
not
climate controlled outside. I placed the bowl beneath him, but left the saddle on, unsure how to take it off successfully. I would have to see about returning him tomorrow. How the hell that could be accomplished discreetly, I didn’t know. I put it on my mental to-do list for tomorrow.

Return Xavier to the police. Secretly.

Find parents’ murderer.

Avoid Angels and Demons.

Take a bath to wash off the sulfur smell.

Find a way to remove Academy’s curse.

Gain access to the Armory.

Maybe get some milk.

That settled, I stumbled in through the front door of my mansion, locking up behind me before wandering through the house in search for Indie. I was trying to be quiet in case she was asleep. I knew it was late, but with my phone dead, I wasn’t quite sure of the exact time. I very disturbingly recalled the day-terror I had experienced at the bar with Indie being gutted in front of me. Being used to it, I managed to shake it off, causing my drunken brain to swim a little in the pool of alcohol in which it was currently floating.

I reached the stairs and was immediately assaulted. I was struck in the face by what felt like a hot iron shoved to the hilt up my nostril, right on the spot that had kissed the wooden chair at Temple Industries. Light flared as my mind shattered into a million blinding shards. I was knocked into a nearby vase, shattering the priceless clay. I lurched to my feet, letting loose an explosion of raw force at a nearby fluttering curtain. It shattered the window, which immediately set off the alarm. The sonic wail could be felt on a molecular level. I clasped my hands over my ears, eyes watering freely as I scanned my proximity for my attacker. And I found it.

My assailant was an overnight bag that had rebounded off my face and into the curtain. Of all the dumb luck. I might have overreacted a bit. Fresh blood poured down my face and into my mouth, which was becoming familiar to me. I clutched my head in pulsing agony, awaiting the pool of sympathy in which I would soon be swimming.

Someone was about to feel downright guilty for launching luggage at my face.

Indie and Dean both appeared on the landing in a flurry of stomping feet. “I’m so sorry, Dean!” Indie was yelling over the blaring alarm. Dean was on the phone. I couldn’t hear him over the screeching alarm, which was less than pleasant to my ears. A few seconds or an eternity later, the alarm shut off.