Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1) (17 page)

I looked over at him, thinking. “Perhaps.” I turned back to the window, feeling his eyes on me. “But perhaps not. It’s not exactly a science. Some come into it early, with training and foreknowledge, like me. With others, it might take a traumatic experience for it to manifest.” I was silent for a minute, thinking hard for an explanation. “Have you heard those stories about mothers who were suddenly able to lift a car from their child’s trapped body? Or those who survive an un-survivable accident, and have no idea why? Most often, those are people like Peter apparently is. It hits them all of a sudden, and they don’t quite understand it. Then they normally hide from it, unable to explain what they remember lest they sound like an insane person.”

Gunnar stared hard through the windshield, cutting off a motorcycle with a sharp swerve. “But Peter didn’t seem too surprised by his reaction.”

“No.” I said softly, growing angry. “No, he didn’t. Which either means that he already knew or that he’s much more cool-headed than we thought. Since being around us his whole life, maybe it was an awakening for him. He had wanted it for so long, and then, suddenly, there it was. He was no longer the outcast. He was just like us. Maybe his joy overrode his shock.”

Gunnar spoke as we exited the highway into a seedy warehouse district just off the bridge. “It seemed more like the former to me. Cool-headed doesn’t sound like Peter.” I nodded, fury barely contained. “But then why didn’t he come to you? I mean, you are one scary, talented wizard, and he never told you.” His words trailed off as he waited for me to speak. I remained silent, anticipating our
talk
tonight. I would get my answers then.

Gunnar drove through a warren of dilapidated warehouses, glancing at the GPS every few seconds for our turnoff. A large truck pulled out in front of us, laden with construction debris, and a smeared sign that read ‘Not responsible for falling debris.’ Gunnar was glancing down when the back of the truck suddenly flew open. I yelled and Gunnar slammed on the brakes by reflex, then he saw the contents, and we both hesitated.

Stone gargoyles filled the back of the truck, but it continued moving down the street, blocking us from passing him. The driver must not have realized that the door came loose. Gunnar swerved to the side, trying to get the driver’s attention in his side mirror. The driver apparently remained aloof to our honking, because Gunnar cursed and pulled back behind the truck, resigned to follow behind him until our turn.

We were still going the speed limit when I thought I saw one of the gargoyle statues move.

Chapter 18

I
leaned forward, holding my breath as I studied the huddle of lifeless gargoyles staring at us from the back of the truck. They were all demonic gargoyles of some kind, but were each subtly different. Some had wings, and some bore weapons, or massive claws. But none moved.

As I began to relax, one of them blinked, turning its hideous head to stare straight into my eyes amidst a puff of dust and crumbling gravel that cascaded down its torso. “No fucking way,” I whispered, my forearms pebbling.

Gunnar looked over at me. “We’ll pass this schmuck in a minute or so, and then we can get on to the crime scene.” He said, attempting to sooth my impatience.

I shook my head and pointed. “The gargoyles. They’re alive.”

One of the gargoyle statues snapped out its wings, and Gunnar jolted as if he had been tazered. “What the hell?” He exclaimed, slowing down. The gargoyle shook out its wings. Then it turned to look directly at us, curious. Gunnar went still. “Nate…?”

“I know, I know! I’m thinking!” I argued, keeping my eyes on the waking statues. It looked like someone had raided the wrong house, getting more than they bargained for. These statues weren’t planning on staying in the garden for the owner’s pleasure. I tried to recall everything I knew about gargoyles. I remembered that they could wake, but only for short bursts, turning back and forth from life to stone for mere seconds at a time, but only if they were strong. Really strong. Which explained the stories about people waking up the next morning and swearing that their statues were in a different spot than the night before. And it usually had to be night for them to have the kind of power needed to do so. Or if something traumatic had happened to them. Like suddenly being moved from their home. Shit. My hopes were that these statues would look around a bit, and then turn back to stone. Content. Not angry and vengeful. Yeah right.

“Just stay calm. Don’t do anything to startle them. Don’t slow down, and don’t speed up. Since we’re staying the same distance away from them, they might just fall back asleep.”

Gunnar nodded slowly, turning only his eyes to me. “Okay. You’re taking this pretty calm, Nate. Has this kind of thing happened to you a time or two?”

I nodded calmly. “At Notre Dame. But that was at night when they are known to have enough power to wake. I’ve never seen one come to life in daylight. It’s kind of against the rules. Things can be believed at night, explained away as just a trick of the dark. Day time makes it all too obvious, and us freaks need our secrecy.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. But how are they awake now then?”

I explained my theory about a traumatic shift in their home, but even I wasn’t so sure. These gargoyles hadn’t fallen back asleep yet, and a couple more woke up while we were talking, flexing long-unused muscles. “What are the odds of this many bad things coincidentally happening to you in such a short span of time?” He asked.

“Not high.” Another statue woke in a crack of stone and dust. They began looking at each other curiously, silent conversations traveling between their eyes as if asking
so, now what?
Several of them began to smile as if they had an idea. “Technically, a wizard could raise them, but he would either have to be close, very powerful, or have some kind of tie to these specific statues. I haven’t heard of any wizards on this side of the river, but I guess I can’t discount the possibility…”

As one, all of the statues turned to stare at us, cocking their heads like a cat spotting a laser light on the floor. Another gargoyle’s wings snapped out, knocking the head clean off of one of the others. Okay, friendly fire was a good thing. “If nothing startles them, then they should just fall back asleep. I think. Just keep pace with the truck.” Gunnar nodded, focused on a goal.

Then the truck swerved abruptly, and the driver honked his horn furiously as a car cut across a cross street just ahead of him. The gargoyles crouched, reacting defensively. We hadn’t seen any other cars on this street, so the statues focused on the only sign of life near them.

Us.

I could see the hatred as they stared at us, and then they leapt out of the moving truck, landing like a group of paratroopers in a war zone — eyes wary, and claws out. Gunnar swerved as one of the gargoyles drew a club strapped to his back and swung it at us. The tip of the stone club screeched down the passenger side of the car. “I am
definitely
going to sue that driver!” Gunnar bellowed.

“You can’t. His truck said that he wasn’t responsible for falling debris.” Gunnar turned murderous eyes on me. I almost yelled for Gunnar to floor it so that we could get away, but then I thought about these monsters loose in the city, left to do as they please. “Gunnar, stop the car! We have to stop them!”

He pulled the emergency brake, spinning the car in a 180-degree turn so that we were facing the huddle of gargoyles. “Damn it, Nate! How the hell are we supposed to fight them?” He wasn’t scared, just genuinely asking what we were supposed to do. “I will not ruin my car by running over them.” He folded his arms defiantly. Drama Queen.

“The heads. I think if we can take the heads, they’ll become inanimate again.”

Gunnar cocked his SIG Sauer and climbed out of the car. Before they could move, his gun roared, blowing the head off the man with the club. I arched an eyebrow at him. “He scratched my car.” Gunnar growled.

“My mother always said that a pistol is the Devil’s right hand.” I grinned. Gunnar smiled back, showing teeth.

Then they began to break up, moving on us like well-trained predators. But they weren’t expecting a wizard and a werewolf to crash their party. They were just looking for a little entertainment. If I had my way, the entertainment would be completely one sided, leaving only a whole truckload of gravel behind.

I suddenly had an idea. Something my parents had briefly taught me, but that I had never truly practiced. I guess this would have to count. I yelled to Gunnar. “Cover me, but no matter what you see, make sure you don’t shoot me!”

Knowing my weirdness, Gunnar just nodded, popping off a few more shots at one of the more demonic-looking gargoyles. I took a deep breath, and instantly found the calm reservoir of power deep inside me. It actually helped clear my head a bit from the hangover. I waded into that power like it was a hot spring, allowing the tension to ease out of my muscles. I knew it took only seconds, but in my mind it felt like an hour. Once relaxed, I began drawing that reservoir into me, through me, and then projected it over my skin like stone armor, doubling up over the most vulnerable areas. It was easier than I remembered. My skin felt like ice as the stone encased every section of my body, efficiently turning me into a stone version of myself — statue Nate.

Once satisfied, I opened my eyes back to the real world. The gargoyles had taken no more than a few steps. Gunnar was efficiently picking off legs and heads where he could, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough. There were close to a dozen of them. I glanced down at my stone hands in wonderment, twisting them this way and that.

To any passerby, I most likely looked like a human statue. Except that I wore clothes, and I could move. Neat huh? I felt like a stone manikin, and I knew that if I looked into a mirror, my face would still be there, but cast in stone. I could move without impediment, but with this armor I could take just about as much damage as one could dish out, but each hit tore off some of that shielding, so it was only temporary.

I turned to look at Gunnar. His eyes were wide as he looked from me to the statues, and then he began to laugh. “That is so cool! Why do you bitch about my power when you can do
that
?” He asked, cracking off another shot to send one of the gargoyles down permanently.

I shrugged and turned back to the horde of gargoyles with a grin of my own. “Play with me?” I asked one who was warily approaching me, unsure whether I was ally or foe. It cocked its head in confusion. I reached out, grabbed its throat, and crushed the stone in my fist. The head toppled to the ground with a heavy thud. I pointed at one of the winged gargoyles. “You’re next.” The gargoyle let out a dusty roar, wings snapping out as if preparing to fly. Not today. I rushed the gargoyle, batting down one of its wings as it crouched to take to the air. The wing shattered under my fist, knocking the beast off balance, then I punched it straight in the nose, knocking it clean off. The gargoyle stumbled, preparing to defend itself, but I kicked it in the chest so hard that its head flew off from the abrupt whiplash. The body skidded into the last few gargoyles, knocking them down like bowling pins. “Strike!” I roared.

Gunnar’s gun blasted until two straggler gargoyles died at his feet. He was panting as he jogged towards me. I didn’t wait. I dove into the pile of gargoyles like a wrestler, trapping a leg here, an arm there, until I found a hold. An arm bar tore off its appendage completely, and then I punched its throat until I felt pavement on the other side. A blow to the side of my head made me see stars for a few seconds, and then Gunnar’s gun blasted off the sucker punching gargoyle’s head from inches away. My ears rang, and I could feel some of the stone sliding off my face where I had been hit, leaving naked, vulnerable skin underneath. Gunnar noticed immediately.

“We need to finish this fast, before your armor fades completely.” I nodded back, but was picked up in a bear hug from behind. I kicked out with my heel and connected with the gargoyles knee, shattering it so that he fell down. As my feet touched ground again, I angled my head to protect the soft skin, and head butted his nose with the back of my skull. He fell back immediately, tottering on his one good leg. I turned, crouched, and superman tackled him down to the ground. Gunshots continued as I pummeled the statue until only dust remained of his neck.

All was silent. I looked up to see Gunnar scanning the area. “I think that’s all of them.” He said. “But we need to get out of here before someone shows up and starts asking questions. I’ll tell the cops that we drove by here when we heard the shots, but saw only broken statues in the road. Can you do something about your… appearance?” He asked with a wry grin.

I nodded, climbing to my feet as more pieces of the armor slid off of their own accord. With little effort, the rest of the armor began cascading down my body like roof tiles, crashing to the road in piles of slate. After a few seconds, I could feel the wind on my skin again, and rubbed them for warmth. The stone armor had been cold. I was now covered in dust like some vagrant homeless person. “I might get your car a little dirty.”