Obsidian Son: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 1 (The Temple Chronicles) by Shayne Silvers

Author:Shayne Silvers [Silvers, Shayne]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Argento Publishing, LLC
Published: 2012-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

I stepped out of the bathroom in my robe, not wanting to leave the safety of my home. It wasn’t just that I was scared, although I was terrified. Battling the Minotaur was not on my bucket list. This could be a very short day for the last Temple heir. And it wasn’t just because I didn’t want to go to Temple Industries and see whatever digital feed they had told me about, even though I didn’t want to see that either. I couldn’t imagine what kind of clip I would see, but if it was password protected from even their most trusted employee, Ashley Belmont, then it was not going to be pleasant.

No, it was more than that.

I could still feel Indie’s touch on my skin. The whole process of her bathing me clung to my soul. I felt stronger, surer of myself, and I didn’t want to leave that behind. I had experienced frequent dalliances with the fairer sex, but never before had I experienced such a strengthening as she had just shown me with a simple bath. I wanted to relish that feeling, and knew that the moment I stepped out the door, all hell would break loose, and the feeling would evaporate like the intensity of that first spray of cologne that leaves the skin somewhere during the middle of the night, when you want it on the most.

I sauntered over to my desk, the robe brushing my knees as I moved. I sat down in my chair, steepled my fingers, and glanced at my phone. I needed to make a call, a legally questionable call to an old college friend. To do that, I needed to use the scrambled sequence she had given me so that neither call could be traced to us. Paranoid?

Yes.

She was one of the most wanted cyber-criminals in the country. Possibly even the world. Her true identity was still a secret to the governmental agencies, but as I didn’t know how close anyone was to catching her, or even if she was still being hunted, I couldn’t use a social call to talk business with her. She would also be less than pleased if I did such a thing. I flipped open my iMac, and clicked the hidden icon on the desktop that she had sent me: An Encryption software that was years ahead of even most governmental branches. I typed in my cell number as prompted, and clicked enter.

The software began bouncing my cell phone number from one country to the next in five-second intervals, making triangulation impossible. I watched this all happen on a Google Maps image of the earth. Then it began switching my number at each location shift, until it revealed a temporary number for me to use, good for only the next seven-seconds. I hesitated. Did I want to do this? No.

But I had to.

Othello would probably relish the call. It had been a while since we’d spoken. I quickly typed in a number from memory.

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