Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2) (17 page)

“You said there are more places like this in the world?”

“Yes, but they pale in comparison. Your parents quite outdid themselves bringing additional items of power here.” She studied me as I scanned the room, fighting the selfish urge to arm myself for World War III. I could be all but invincible with even a handful of these items. I could take out the Justices, swat away the Angels, and banish the Demons with ease. No one could stand in my way.

But… and there was always a
but.

My parents had locked them away for a reason. Power had a tendency to change a guy. And I liked myself the way I was. The urge was still persistent, but I squashed it. “Do as you will, but you are not without options.” She said softly, reading my thoughts. “You are a Maker and must not give the Academy access to this storehouse.” She warned.

“Is this Maker gift how I was able to learn how to teleport just by experiencing it one time?”

“Teleport? I don’t know this word.” She answered with a frown.

“You know. Moving from one place to another really fast.”

“You learned how to run?” She teased with a grin.

I scowled. “Over great distances in the blink of an eye.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Oh. You mean Shadow Walking.” She tapped a lip, watching my pensive frown. “You mean this is not common knowledge among wizards?”

I stared at her for a few seconds before shaking my head. “No. Apparently it’s only known to a select few.” I regarded her thoughtfully. This ability was nothing new to her, even though she had never heard the modern word
teleport
. Interesting.
Shadow Walking
. I wondered where I had been when between locations. An alternate reality? Was it dangerous? Most likely it was or it would be common knowledge. Another fact hit me. The Academy was guilty of doing exactly what they accused me of — hiding power. Which instantly confirmed that I shouldn’t trust them. They wanted power for themselves. Not for the good of the supernatural community. They wanted control, weapons, and power. But why?

She had frowned in disapproval at mention of the Academy hiding knowledge like this from other wizards. She finally shrugged in answer to my original question. “Makers learn quickly. Their subconscious runs on overdrive. Always watching, cataloguing, learning.” Her eyes were thoughtful as she watched the uncertainty on my face. She was obviously finished with that conversation because she moved to another topic after glancing at a nearby sundial. “Your situation could be worse…”

I blinked. “Losing my power? I’m helpless with this curse. It won’t go away until I give them access to the Armory. To
you
. If even then.”

“Then you must die, Maker.” She didn’t even look ashamed at the comment. Seeing my reaction, her eyes grew softer. “Some men aren’t meant to find peace or happiness. They are meant to challenge Death. Fight Wars. They are meant to be
great
.”

“Well, my death will put a damper on just about all of those things.”

She shrugged, changing the topic again. “Now that you are my new master, how do you wish me to aid you?”

I could sense that she wanted me to formally acknowledge her assistance, but I was a tad nervous about what that might obligate me to do. My father had always taught me that there was no free lunch. “I just want to understand what this place is and why it was locked away.”

She laughed. “Come now. Of course your parents told you of this place.” She intoned, sarcastically. I shook my head and she blinked at me in awe. “They never told you about this fortress? About…
me
?” I shook my head again, blushing slightly at her offended tone.

“Uh… nope.”

“Well, I am here to serve… you, if you will have me. I keep record of the items of power stored here. What exactly do you wish to know?” Disappointment was clear in her voice.

“Just answers, I guess. I don’t want to force you to tell me anything you don’t want to tell.” I said conversationally, looking over her shoulder at the vast array of items. As was typical for me, my gaze rested on a set of books that sat neatly on a table. I found myself wondering what their story was. Their spines were elaborately decorated, but they held not a speck of dust.

Her tone grew cold in the blink of an eye, arctic. Literally. Frost instantly coated the table and books. “But… you will if you must. Already you resort to threats. Against a slave, no less.”

My mouth clicked shut, realization dawning too late. “No. No, that’s not what I meant. That wasn’t a threat. That was just a statement. I merely meant that I don’t know the rules here. I am not like those you may have served before.”

She chuckled sadly and the frost on the table simply disappeared, which was entirely creepy. Shouldn’t it have melted rather than disappear? “Never heard
that
before. I thought you might be different.”

“Look, is there anything I can do to prove that I’m not here to hurt you? I didn’t even know you existed ten minutes ago.” Did this mean that my parents had abused her? Was that why she was so jaded?

She watched me curiously. “We shall see,” was all she said. I was surprised that she hadn’t asked me to free her, to beg for my help. I didn’t think I would have said yes, but I wasn’t sure. Perhaps I would have. Everyone deserved freedom. But I didn’t know her story or the Armory’s history. Not yet. I needed to be sure she wasn’t dangerous first.

So I let her assume what she would. Cold, but effective. I guarded my thoughts with a sudden wall of impenetrable power so that she couldn’t read me. She squinted back, noticing my defense, and not seeming best pleased.

Confident my thoughts were safe, I thought for a moment. It was obvious why my parents had been killed. Someone wanted access to this place. “But
who
killed them? Why am I having night terrors? Why does the door back there smell like Brimstone?”

Her sudden silence caused me to look up, realizing I had spoken aloud. Her eyes had changed to a milky lavender shade, gaze distant as if she could no longer see me. The difference in her voice caused the hair on the back of my neck to rise, as it was totally different from when she had spoken before — older, wiser, and more lethal — like a completely different person. Like… an entity of knowledge
should
sound. “The doorway to death can truly be a hallway of opportunities. To tread the sharp edge of a sword — to run on smooth-frozen ice, one needs no footsteps to follow. Walk over the cliffs with hands free. Death will provide answers to thee.” Then she blinked as if just waking up, unsure what had just transpired.

“Are you telling me the only answers I can find will be through death?”

“Only the
ultimate
answer can be found through death.” She answered distantly, her eyes slowly returning back to normal as she caught a hand on the table for balance. What the hell? Then she chuckled, as if amused at her own words.

“Very punny.” I growled. “Now, what the hell did you mean, and what just happened? You almost fell over. And your eyes changed colors.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where the words came from… it happens sometimes. I’m not sure if it’s the items here or something to do with me.” Her eyes darted back to the sundial and widened in alarm. “Quickly. We haven’t much time.” I blinked at that, but she was already rushing to grab my hand and lead me around the room. I had all the time in the world to give her. She was the only one willing to give me answers. But I allowed her to drag me to a new room, smiling at her excitement to point out various items only read about in stories. A cold chill ran down my neck at some of them. Excalibur. Armor designed by literal Gods. Vials of mysterious liquids and raw energy that she silently avoided. A blue phone booth…
no
, that couldn’t be the
Tardis
… could it?

She finally looked content, having shown me some of the more dangerous items. Knowing this was one room of dozens — if not hundreds — I found myself again wary of my new hideout. “The Armory is a cache of magical items deemed too dangerous to fall into the wrong hands. Most things in here are deadly, but lethality is in the eye of the beholder. To the caveman, fire was dangerous, but one just needed to learn how to control it.” She paused before continuing, no doubt reading the question on the tip of my tongue with her creepy mind reading ability. “I don’t know why you smelled Brimstone outside. Perhaps the thief from a few months ago resorted to Demons in order to gain entrance. I don’t know how that could be possible, but he ultimately failed. Knowing what he desired, and how powerful it was, I tricked him.”

I felt myself lean forward eagerly.
Peter
. “What did he want?” This was it. An answer.

Finally.

She appraised me wordlessly, judging me as surely as if I had been weighed to the ounce. “Power. He seemed fixated on the bathwater of Baby Achilles.” She idly waved a hand at the array of vials we had bypassed.

“Well, as power goes, that seems kind of a poor choice.” She arched a brow.

“That would be the water from the River Styx, which granted him his immortality on all but his ankle.” I shuddered in comprehension.

“Oh. Well… thanks for not giving it to him then.” She nodded. “It was as your parents would have wanted. Besides, why would I let him have what he wanted if he wasn’t able to grant my freedom?” My mind worked furiously. So she
did
want something.

“You could have asked him to take you with him in exchange for the water.”

She frowned. “Don’t think I hadn’t thought about it… or tried it in the past. Only the custodian may grant my freedom.”

She began studying the nearby weathered sundial nervously. “How can I find the man or Demons responsible for my parents’ murder?” I asked, remembering her odd comment about limited time. She laughed, as if the question was too simple to waste her time on.

“That’s easy.” She immediately shimmered with power before casting a crimson haze of fog at a map of Eastern Europe on the wall beside us. “
Seek.
” She whispered. The fog condensed to several locations on the map, glowing faintly. “That shows the current locations of Demonic presence.”

The freaky part about it was that I knew I could replicate it, but it would cost me a ton of magic. “Um. With my curse, that spell would drain me really fast. I would have to use a lot of power, which would leave me useless to confront the Demons I oh so cleverly discovered.”

She nodded mumbling to herself as if reading a mental catalog of the items stored here, and then dove into a pile of items on the edge of a desk. After discarding several priceless artifacts, she held up a carved bone the size of a birds egg. “Here. Take this. It works the same way, only doesn’t require your own magic. It’s instilled with the power itself. Merely think about what you want to find, say
Seek
, and hold it near a map.” She handed me the bone egg and I grunted in surprise at its weight. It was so dense that it felt like a lump of pure lead. It was completely covered in continuous runes, not a single millimeter empty. I idly wondered what could have been sharp enough to carve it. It felt… ancient. Upon my touch, soothing whispers abruptly filled my ears, murmuring seductively, introducing themselves by the hundreds. The voices sounded seductive, and… grateful. Almost as if they were eager to partner with a new wizard after eons of silence. I quickly pocketed the totem and the whispers ceased. I managed not to flinch in fear, and the girl nodded in approval.

“Thanks.” I finally answered, glad for the silence, and not knowing quite what to make of the voices. I felt conflicted about borrowing anything from this place, but what choice did I really have?

She nodded matter of factly.

“I guess now I understand why it took you so long to answer my call. Your parents never told you about me. I thought you would have to develop insomnia before you realized I was reaching out to you.”

That got me right in the stomach. The night terrors. “That was you?” I hissed, seething with sudden rage.

She began to chuckle, but her brow creased in confused alarm, not understanding my threatening tone. “Yes. I try to give all my hosts pleasant dreams.” She finally answered, looking uncertain.

“Is this some kind of sick
joke
?” I bellowed, taking an aggressive step towards her. She squeaked, darting back a good dozen feet to the balcony. Then I took another step. Soon I was racing towards her, fury fueling my muscles.

She was as good as dead.

I
knew
this had sounded too good to be true, that she had
looked
too good to be true. She was the source of all my recent pain. Having visions of my loved ones being tortured and killed again and again and
again
. Some might say I was slightly unhinged.

“I think there might have been a misunderstanding.” She spoke softly, suddenly standing just before me. I was panting with unspent energy, my muscles quivering to reach her dainty throat, but I was no longer running. I couldn’t move a single muscle below my neck, so I snarled hungrily, ready to bite her throat if that was my only path. But I couldn’t even turn my head. Her delicate hands reached up to touch my face, her soft fingertips gently caressing my scar and temples in a very doctor-like evaluation. I was ready to burst with rage, but my body wouldn’t respond, and even my magic was tantalizingly out of reach.
What was happening
?

She flinched back with a gasp. “Oh. That makes much more sense. Someone has been tampering with your mind. Altering my sendings.” She scrunched her face in thought, poking her tongue out the side of her full lips, Michael Jordan style, and stepped back up to me, grasping my skull more forcefully this time. I still couldn’t move. I opened my mouth to threaten her to step back and stop, but even my voice wouldn’t work. She was using some kind of magic to overwhelm me. Then, what felt like a bucket of warm oil slowly poured over my head, coaxing my neck, shoulders, and back into the equivalent of jelly. It was as if I had just stepped out of a warm bath after an exhausting spa day.