Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1) by Shayne Silvers

Author:Shayne Silvers [Silvers, Shayne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Occult, Fantasy, Horror, Sword & Sorcery, Science Fiction & Fantasy
ISBN: 0692536736
Amazon: B009NNHPIA
Publisher: Argento Publishing
Published: 2012-10-07T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

D ressed, and prepared for battle in my Hugo Boss suit, I picked up my phone and dialed the number Officer Marlin had left me. She answered on the second ring. “Officer Marlin.”

“Master Temple.” I quipped, following her terse response. She chuckled.

“You mean, Archangel, I’m sure. One should hear the scuttlebutt around the water cooler after the event at the bridge.”

“I think I’ll stick with Master Temple. It’s catchier.”

“Still, Archangel has a nice ring to it.”

I made a disgusted sound. “You ready to entertain a less than deserving gentleman caller at an expo this evening?”

“Your… gift made my choices much easier than I was accustomed to. I found something rather flashy. I hope it won’t be too much.”

“No one would dare complain that a flower blooms.”

I heard a surprised, but definitely pleased, intake of breath. “Well, that wasn’t what I was fishing for, but thank you. How many times have you used that line?”

“Alas, just this once, but if you vouch for its effect, I might keep it up my sleeve.”

“It’s definitely a keeper.”

“Noted. I shall pick you up in an hour or so. Is that enough time?”

“More than enough. I’ve already been preparing, just in case.”

“I’m sure you didn’t have much difficulty. You were already more than halfway there when we met.”

She sighed on the other end of the line. “From a near death experience to a ball. Young girls imagine stories about this sort of thing.”

“But they imagine those stories with a gentleman or a prince. I am neither.”

“Debatable.” She answered with a demure chuckle.

“Gunnar has your address, so we’ll see you then.” I hung up.

My phone chirped back at me almost as soon as I set it down on my desk, Richard Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries blaring loudly. I let it play for a few seconds, enjoying the jingle, than answered. It was Gunnar. “Nate. There is a man outside my office adamantly waving car keys at me, declaring that I left them at a restaurant that I have never visited before. Do you have any idea why he’s here?” I suppressed a grin.

“Not the foggiest.” I paused. “Why don’t you do one of your FBI things, like running the plates to see who the keys really belong to?”

“We’re not supposed to use government resources for personal reasons.” He answered, very textbook.

“Someone out there is looking for their keys, and someone happens to bring them to your attention, and you are not going to try to discover who they belong to?” I argued derisively. “And you wonder why bureaucracy doesn’t work, why citizens are so concerned.”

“Fine.” I heard him fiddle with his keyboard, rapidly typing in commands. His voice was distant, speaking to someone else in the room. “License plate number.” A shuffling of paper and then utter silence. “You’re kidding me.” He said in disbelief, voice full of disapproval to the agent in his office. I managed to tap the mute button on my phone before I burst out laughing into Gunnar’s earpiece. A muffled argument took place as the agent vehemently defended his information.

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