Snakebite: Phantom Queen Book 13—A Temple Verse Series by Shayne Silvers & Cameron O'Connell

Author:Shayne Silvers & Cameron O'Connell [Silvers, Shayne]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Argento Publishing, LLC
Published: 2022-06-14T00:00:00+00:00

44

“The hell I am!”

Pandora’s eyes widened at my sudden outburst. “You make it sound like this is the first you’re hearing about it.”

“That’s because it is. What in the world makes ye t’ink I’d just hand over Nevermore?”

“Nevermore?”

“Me armor. That’s what I call her.”

“Her?”

I pursed my lips. “It. Whatever.”

Pandora swung a hopeful gaze over to my shadowy companion as if looking for some support, but Veil could only shrug. Pandora sighed. “Ah. Well, I suppose that at least explains why you arrived so much later than expected.”

“Actually,” Veil cut in, “that was my fault. I didn’t expect the Maker to interfere the way he did. It…complicated things.”

I frowned, wondering what Veil meant by that. Judging from what she’d said earlier, I could only speculate that Matthias had thrown me off course with his little stunt. The question was, why? And what was up with Veil’s reaction when I’d mentioned jumping ship? Surely it didn’t matter whether I wanted off or not, under the circumstances.

Unless…

“I see.” Pandora began idly playing with a lock of her hair. “That is a shame. The armor might have proven far more valuable to us had it come into our possession sooner. Naturally, however, the terms of the deal still stand.”

“What deal?” I demanded.

With deliberate slowness, Pandora reached into her cleavage and retrieved a glass vial no larger than my pinky finger, inside which sat a single amber nugget roughly the size of a rear molar. She placed the vial on the table, at which point the rock within began shifting colors—first gold, then steely grey, then aquamarine, then carmine, and so on.

“A philosopher’s stone,” Pandora said. “In exchange for the armor.”

“Oh please,” I scoffed. “The philosopher’s stone is a myth. Ye don’t really expect me to believe…”

I drifted off as Pandora’s expression hardened, sensing I’d offended her. Still, what I was saying was true: there was no such thing as a philosopher’s stone. I knew that for a fact after years spent both receiving and denying requests from various buyers, not to mention the dozens of rumored sightings that had never panned out.

Though, if the stone really did exist, I had to admit this was precisely the sort of place I’d have expected to find it. The trouble was, the philosopher’s stone was a talisman of mythical proportions, capable of turning lead into gold when it wasn’t being used to grant immortality or bring the dead back to life. Indeed, the very notion that such a thing might exist had driven thousands to their deaths in search of its elusive properties—not to mention those wealthy saps who’d sponsored their alchemical research.

Which begged the question: how had Pandora come by it?

“This is the philosopher’s stone,” she insisted. “Or a piece of it, at least. I was told the original had been shattered long ago, and its shards divided amongst several prominent families.”

“Then how d’ye come by it?”

Pandora smiled. “By conventional means, I assure you. The Armory is home to many such relics, though few as illustrious. Or as powerful.

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