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

shower of shards before me into what seemed like a plush office. I bounced off a very sturdy bookshelf, and then slid face first onto a long, wide wooden desk, my face efficiently clearing everything off the top of its surface: a stapler, a jar of pens, a book, a pile of papers, a keyboard, a monitor, and at the very end of the desk sat a steaming mug of coffee. I squinted my eyes shut in anticipation, trying to brake with my feet, but they were all tangled up in the damn web. Again, I inform you that the impending shriek sounded in no way similar to that of a frightened little girl. I slid to a halt, my nose brushing the scalding mug. But it didn’t spill. I tried to steady my breathing, and cautiously peeled open the only eye not squeezed shut from the web, staring at the room’s only occupant.
    A man had wisely scooted back from the desk. He reminded me of Father Time. Older than old, but he was apparently still spry enough to dodge a sailing, web-encased, wizard who happened to burst through his fourth-floor office window. He glanced down at me, long, heavy caterpillar eyebrows frowning with disapproval. A heavy authority was contained within his stare. Then I noticed his getup. A thin black robe settled around his shoulders, and I noticed a wooden gavel on a bookshelf behind him.
    I gulped. “Your Honor.” I offered. The rope web pressed my nose flat against my face, and another lifted my mouth into what would pass for a world-record hair lip.
    Without a word, he reached over my face, carefully plucked up his coffee, and stepped out of the room. He had a damn good poker face, I thought to myself as I heard pounding feet racing towards me from just outside the open door. Then a swarm of security guards burst into the room, guns leveled in my general direction as if anticipating a ninja to disappear into a cloud of smoke and throwing stars. The lead guard blinked, and then suppressed a grin as he tucked his gun away. “I don’t think he’s an immediate threat.”
    I squirmed angrily, hoping to unhook one of the balls on the web, but I merely succeeded in slipping off the desk to fall straight onto my back on the hard wood floor. Pain flashed in my side as the wind was knocked out of me.
    “Thun of a vitch!” I wheezed through the web.

Chapter 12

    I t didn’t take long for Gunnar to sort out the mess and get me out of handcuffs. That’s two times in twenty-four hours. Impressive right? Gunnar had changed into his spare clothes, and no one seemed to notice. At first, Justice Simpson hadn’t been very pleased with my interruption, but after checking my wallet for identification, he had burst out laughing so hard that I actually started to blush. His last comment still aggravated me as we stepped outside, past another set of chuckling guards. I flipped them off. “Pricks.” I muttered, rubbing at the rope burns on my neck. They laughed harder.
    Gunnar glanced over at me, amused. “He did say that you could drop by any time . Quite courteous of him, given the situation.”
    “I take it you’re walking back to the office?”
    Gunnar grumbled back. “Thought you might like a souvenir.” He offered me one of the dragon’s teeth that I had knocked out. It was almost as long as my pinkie.
    “Nifty.” I smiled back, pocketing it. A beautiful blonde woman in a tracksuit was walking across the street from us, and I swiped back my shaggy hair for a semblance of dignity. Gunnar followed my gaze, nodding his agreed approval. Her hair was cut short along her jaw so that the bangs formed wicked points near her chin, layered perfectly around her thin oval face. She grinned at my obvious interest, and I winked back. She giggled and began to change direction towards us, limping slightly as if she had sprained her ankle while running. God, girls giggling! What a delicious sound. “That’s a nice Cherry Danish.” I said for Gunnar’s ears only.
    Gunnar stared at me askance. “Do you always refer to women as dessert