Read Online Obsidian Son (The Temple Chronicles Book 1) by Shayne Silvers - Free Book Online Page A

get a flask like mine so you can carry it around when on the go.” He patted the flask.
    “You should probably get a new car, like mine.” I answered dryly.
    His smile instantly turned stony. “Capital A.”
    After several minutes of silence we entered the infamous Bellefontaine Cemetery — the final resting place for both my parents, and also my every ancestor who had come stateside since the 1700’s. The cemetery had been founded in 1849, and we had had all of our pre-1849 ancestors transferred here from their previous graves shortly after. William Clark — from the famous Lois and Clarke expedition — and even Mark Twain were buried here. Only the best for the Temple clan.
    Before I had a chance to admire the beauty of the Bellefontaine grounds, we were assaulted. Camera flashes nearly blinded us. A red carpet had even been rolled out over the blanket of fresh snow, looking like a bloody smear. We were momentarily descended upon, shoved bodily by a gaggle of reporters, all shouting to be heard over one another. “Master Temple, is it true that you’re taking over Temple Industries?” One voice shouted. I wanted to burn the ground to ash, but instead, I chose civility.
    Kind of.
    I glared at a film crew standing nearby, staring down my audience of likely a few million viewers. “Greetings, carrion. Where there is a carcass, there will always be vultures. I hope you are all having a splendid feast on the decaying remains of two of the greatest minds St. Louis has ever known. Now, if you would be so kind… step. The fuck. Back.” Cameras and microphones lowered. The ashen-faced cameraman looked pale as his boss ordered him to cut the feed. I took a few steps before turning back to them. “Oh, and have a nice day.” Then I was off again, feeling marginally better.
    Towering monoliths, marble angels, and skeletal, ancient trees surrounded me as I strode deeper into the cemetery, colder on the inside than I was on the outside. The wind was muted here, as if holding its breath in the presence of so many dead. Gunnar walked beside me, a wry grin on his face. “That was efficient, and polite.”
    “They’re lucky I was only mildly perturbed. A cemetery is a convenient place to commit mass murder.” I glanced at his badge, which was prominently displayed on his belt. “Hypothetically.”
    Gunnar nodded, awed as we came into sight of the towering Temple Mausoleum. It was the largest private plot in the cemetery, safe in a wide swath of fresh grass that ringed the entire perimeter, secluded from all other nearby graves. Due to it’s sheer size, many at first mistook it for the caretaker’s residence, but only until they came close enough to witness it in it’s entirety. It was nicer. And bigger. Much bigger. The marble colossus was astoundingly extravagant, having been built to house our first ancestors on this side of the Atlantic, and their descendants had pulled out all the stops, trying to recreate the more lavish mausoleums found in their former European homeland.
    It was a study in contradictions, almost every culture fused together for its creation. Corinthian columns climbed two stories to hold the massive marble roof overlooking the cemetery. Marble sentinels of all sorts stood guard between each column: armed Roman soldiers, nude men and women entwined in Raphaelian ecstasy, or less profane romantic embraces, Spanish Kings, Queens, and even Arabic scholars. Several gods and goddesses could be seen in the mix if one looked closely enough: Anubis, Zeus, Odin, Athena, and a few others from a spattering of different faiths.
    I spotted a small group of executives and lawyers from Temple Industries just outside the door, obviously waiting to speak with me. Didn’t I already have enough to deal with? Then I spotted a discreet hand gesturing to get my attention behind the trunk of a large tree beside the path. Weird, but definitely preferable to more talk of my parents’ company.
    I flicked open my pack of