“Or what?”
“Or if someone else made you for another purpose. A catalyst.”
I watched as he departed my side to approach his own mount, a fiery steed not unlike Gruff – Death’s horse. I didn’t know all the horses’ names, but I knew Gruff. War’s horse was a true nightmare of a creature with literal armor covering his frame. Horns, spikes, and even blades seemed to be braided into his thick, shaggy fur, like dreadlocks. He shook his head under War’s touch, and sparks cascaded from his mane like dandruff. I turned to my mount, Grimm, the unicorn. Although deadly, and carnivorous, he was rather lacking when compared to his fellow beasts. Here I was, a drafted Horseman, and…
I rode a freaking unicorn.
Might as well get some rainbow-colored robes and a bedazzled mask.
“If I’m to be a Horseman, who do I talk to about upgrades?” I asked, pointing at Grimm. The unicorn stomped a hoof disapprovingly.
Pestilence spoke from behind me, and I suddenly felt the presence of decay. I didn’t dare look inside his hood if his mere presence gave me such unease, apparent immunity to the Horsemen’s powers or not. “You earn them.”
And he, too, walked past me to mount up. Onto a bedraggled, decaying horse. I could see the veins beneath the skin pulsing with faint light, and I shivered. Rheumy eyes glanced at me, milky white, and the horse peeled back a rotten lip to show me a palate of black, rotted teeth.
I didn’t dare study the other horses. “You guys suck. Just for the record.” I turned to Grimm. “Please take me away from this place. This vision.” He dipped his horn, like a begrudging nod. I climbed atop his back, and he reared up on his hind legs, roaring into the night.
A sound that a horse should not be allowed to make.
Then we were galloping, the Horsemen at my side, and the world warped to a realm of shadows. The only light came from two sources. The sparks erupting from each strike of hoof on unseen floor, but even those sparks of green, white, blue, red, and purple faded almost immediately. The other source of light were the four sets of eyes, flickering beneath the hoods in identical flames as their horse’s hooves.
“We bring the terror,” they murmured in unison, and I shivered.
Because I had said something very similar when fighting Gunnar in the alley a few days ago.
Chapter 64
I sat in my office at Chateau Falco, Othello sitting across from me, petting Sir Muffle Paws in her lap. I frowned at the cat. Othello had told me that while she had been trying to bring me back to life, she had felt as if the cat had been communicating with her. Her staring at the looking-glass at me on Mt. Kailash… had really been her staring at the damned cat. It watched me now with intelligent, calculating eyes. I looked away first, and it began to clean its belly in triumph.
The silver eagle-headed cane handle rested on a nearby coffee table, and although it felt odd not to carry on my hip anymore, it also felt like a big weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
The cane – the Beast inside – had yet to speak to me again. Resting. Healing. I looked away, happy that he at least had a chance at freedom now.
Tory sat in a nearby chair, watching in silence, her eyes glazed over in deep thought, almost appearing to nap. She had told me about the Reds tricking Raego – how Sonya had called the FBI to tell them that Raego was harboring a fugitive at his home. Indie.
Jeffries had shown up with the cavalry, and Sonya had escaped in the chaos. To join the fight at the circus. Raego had called the Huntress, telling her the news. Which was why I had seen her talking on the phone at the circus before we had entered the pit. She hadn’t found Ichabod. She had been trying to warn me about Sonya.
Luckily…
“I’m glad everyone made it out alive.” I shot a look at Tory. “And that you were able to save so many.”
Tory nodded. Slightly. She was still deeply shaken from seeing Misha. From mentally deciding to fight Misha. Even though it hadn’t been Misha, but Indie – the Sister Grimm – using her powers to shapeshift into the dragon from memory. Wilhelm had been able to do that. Shapeshift into people. Right before I had killed him.
Even though I knew Indie had used Misha’s appearance as a disguise to sneak into the circus, it still felt like a betrayal. Misha had been my friend. Our friend. Our ally. And she had saved us numerous times in the past, before ultimately laying down her life in the Grimm War.
But her lover had seen her again. Had chosen to fight her. And had to watch her hurt by the Huntress. That topic hadn’t been broached yet. The Huntress had kept her distance.
Othello broke the uncomfortable silence. “The other thing is complete, too. Tomas had some very… interesting news to share.”
I nodded absently, waving a dismissive hand. “Any word on Indie?” I asked softly.
She shook her head, shooting a sharp look at Tory’s motionless body, a pained look dancing in her eyes before she rounded on me with a disapproving glare for bringing the memory of Misha up, even in an indirect way. “I don’t think anyone needs to be worrying about Indie,” she said climbing to her feet and approaching me. She finally walked up behind me, and placed her hands on my shoulders, giving me a light, gentle, friendly massage, as if trying to help me relieve the weight dragging me down, down, down.
I reached up and placed my hand on hers. “Thanks, Othello.”
She continued massaging my shoulders, and I let my eyes close, breathing deeply. “You ready to meet Ganesh again? I can’t imagine he’s going to be pleased that you left his belt with the Fae,” she said softly from behind me. I had told them everything now that it was all done. How I had given up my power. That I was a wizard again. They seemed relieved.
I smiled tiredly at her question. Ganesh. “No, I imagine not.” I just couldn’t find the energy to care. I had tried my goddamned hardest to appease everyone. Sometimes it just couldn’t all work out. And I still had Baba Yaga to worry about, too. I had promised to heal her Familiar – her house. Without Ganesh’s belt, I had no idea how to make good on that promise.
But first, I had to survive Ganesh’s wrath. I had lost his belt. Or given it up to save my hide.
At least Asterion would be there with Ganesh, and he was a stickler for non-violence, now that he was Buddhist. And it would be right outside my home, at the tree dominating the grounds. I glanced through the window over my shoulder, and spotted about a dozen white figures strolling the grounds, openly now, no longer concerned with stealth. To me they now looked stronger, more real. More… vital.
Othello shivered, following my gaze, able to see them through the glass now. “I still can’t believe you aren’t insane, and that there really are semi-invisible people outside.”
We didn’t talk about her working behind my back. I had forgiven her. She’d had the best intentions.
I chuckled at her comment, nodding as she pressed harder into a particular knot, causing my laugh to shift into a groan of pleasure as my eyes closed. I deserved to smile at least one last time before Ganesh and Baba Yaga fought over who was going to kill me. I had lost Indie on an epic scale, and still didn’t understand how. Or why. So, yeah, I was going to sit my happy ass down and enjoy a friend comforting me for a few minutes.
“Am I interrupting something?” an icy voice hissed from the doorway.
I opened my eyes to see Tory jump to her feet, spinning with a fire poker in her fist. Murder shone in her flickering green eyes.
Indie stood in the doorway, face utterly emotionless. “I see your old… friend is already cleaning up the table scraps.” Her eyes rested on Othello’s hands on my shoulders.
Othello tried to jerk her hands away, but I gripped them tighter. “This isn’t what you think.”
And Indie flipped her shit, pointing a finger at Tory. “Don’t try that again, Beast Master. Your little tricks no longer work on me.”
And Tory grunted, the fires winking out of her eyes as Indie’s irises shifted to a smoky black.
“What is wrong with you,
you freaking psycho?” Othello shouted.
“Don’t ever use that tone with me again, child,” Indie warned, taking an aggressive step forward, smoky eyes locked on the Regular. She took a breath, and shifted her glare to me. “Perhaps my decision to leave with Ichabod was right. I had misgivings upon healing my wounds. But now… You look pretty content with the Regular.”
“I was rubbing his goddamned shoulders, you stupid bitch!” Othello’s tone was venom, disgust practically spraying out like a physical substance. “Not that it’s any of your business now, anyway. You made your choic—”
And Indie flung up a hand.
A pencil thin bar of the purest white light I had ever seen struck Othello in the forehead, barely missing my own. The heat sizzled like a hot poker, and I was afraid my hair was about to catch fire. Maybe the cuffs on my wrist had just saved my life.
Othello flew back into the window with a groan. The bar of light winked out, and Indie looked momentarily sickened at what she had instinctively done. Purple flecks hung in my vision where the light had been, and the house growled a warning at the intruder. Because even though I had lost my Maker’s power, the house and I had formed an unbreakable union. We were still married. Indie’s startled eyes darted up to the house, wary, but I didn’t care about that at the moment. I spun, surprised I hadn’t heard Othello crash through the window or explode into a pile of dust behind me.
She stood behind me, eyes wide as she shook her head.
No more impeded than if someone had thrown a Nerf ball at her. I stared in disbelief. She nodded back at me, slightly dazed for a moment before her face morphed into fury at the Grimm.
I didn’t understand how the hell she had survived Indie’s death ray, but if she could walk that off, perhaps she had a few other tricks. More offensive tricks that would reduce my home to rubble and kill two women I loved. Tory stared at the two women, eyes wide.
I rounded on Indie, jumping to my feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” And I hammered her with everything I had, feeding my grief, and slamming her through the open doorway to crash through the bannister and down onto the first floor through twenty feet of empty air. Well, except for the chandelier she crashed into. And the second chandelier. She disappeared from sight amidst an explosion of glass shards and splintered wood. I stood frozen for a moment, panting. Then I was racing towards the destruction in sudden fear.
What had I just done?
I reached the bannister, Tory and Othello hot on my heels. The Guardians were screeching in alarm, stone feathers ruffled in confusion. After all, Indie had been a friendly. The house was practically quivering now, groaning and creaking like a hurricane was right outside the walls.
The floor held a liberal pool of blood amidst the broken crystal and metal chandeliers, but other than a long smear of blood, and a few crimson footsteps, the floor below was empty. I stared for a good long time, and the house calmed, no longer groaning.
She was gone.
Off the property.
Othello gripped me by the shoulders, turning me to face her. Tory and Othello wore terrified expressions. I stared back, my heart a dried husk inside my chest. I frowned at her as a thought broke through the surface of my inner struggle. “How are you alive right now?”
Othello’s hand went to her chest, clutching something beneath her shirt. Tory was frowning at her hand. “I…” she took a step back. “Hemingway gave me something to keep me safe,” she whispered. “It’s mine,” she warned, face hard.
I slowly held up my hands, remembering the satin box I had seen Death give her at Friendsgiving. Sneaky Horseman. “Easy, Othello. I’m not going to take anything from you.”
“Maybe you should inform your face of that.”
I blinked. Then nodded slowly. “Okay. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay. Sorry if I alarmed you.” She gave me a clipped nod. “That’s a hell of a gift.” My sluggish mind began to work in fitful jerks. “You shouldn’t tell anyone else about it. Let them underestimate you.”
A small grin cracked her cheeks, breaking through the previous anxiety. “I seem to recall someone else teaching me that lesson.” Her eyes grew distant. “Long ago. But then he became an asshole.” She glanced past me at the carnage. “Who beat up his ex-girlfriend.” Then she grinned. “To protect his other ex-girlfriend. But I heard that the bitch deserved it.” Then she turned around, walking back into the office. “We need to talk about Grimmtech…”
“I don’t really care to talk about that right now. If ever. Call…” my mind wandered for a minute, thinking. “Ashley. Call Ashley. I’ve got other things to worry about.” Like my death.
She turned to stare at me in disbelief. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked to get it for you?” she whispered. I nodded. “And, what, you’re just going to hand it off to Ashley? I bent so many laws trying to hide this transaction that even a lawyer wouldn’t follow my trail. Because you asked me to!”
I still hadn’t moved, noticing Tory watching me thoughtfully. “I have… other things on my mind at the moment. I think I need to go take a walk…”
The look of hurt on her face almost crippled me. “What?” she whispered.
I dropped my head to stare at my shoes. Then, before she could argue, I turned to walk away, leaving the mess behind me, and ignoring Othello’s arguments echoing on the walls of an empty office.
Dean rounded the corner, and I shoved a thumb over my shoulder. “I made a mess back there. You should clean it up. The house gets persnickety about messes now.”
And I walked past him, ignoring his concerned look.
I realized that Tory was a pace behind me, following silently as I finally approached the front door. “You should leave me alone right now, Tory. I’m not… myself.”
She chuckled darkly. “And I am? I’m a train wreck. Where’s the next stop on this crazy journey?”
I smiled to myself, nodded, and placed my hand on the front door.
Someone knocked on the other end, and Tory forcefully shoved me out of the way with her super strength. I crashed into the cabinet of curiosities, shattering the glass as Tory tore the door from the hinges, growling menacingly, and eyes on fire.
Chapter 65
I lay in the rubble of the priceless artifacts with a clear view of the now open doorway. Rufus stood there, eyes startled at the sudden explosion of wood and hinges.
“Christ!” and his eyes instantly darted to the small tween at his hip before shoving her clear of the vengeful Beast Master standing between us. He took another step back, ushering Camilla behind him further as his eyes darted to me with a desperate look.
“Tory, it’s fine. Give him some breathing room.”
Tory turned to me, eyes still glowing, and then slowly nodded before turning back to the pair outside. “Sorry. Instinct.”
“Rufus, Camilla, welcome to Chateau Falco. As my guests,” I said, watching Tory.
Tory turned to me, nodded apologetically, and finally stepped out of the way.
“Mom?” two voices called out in unison from the hall behind me. “What was—”
I arched my neck, and felt several small pieces of glass fall from my hair as I turned to look behind me. The Reds stared at me, faces tight. I casually waved back. Sonya and Aria took one look at me, turned to each other, and then cautiously walked past me. They didn’t wave back, simply acted as forcefully calm as if they had encountered a rabid dog on the streets and simply wanted to be past it.
The girls froze as Rufus and Camilla nervously entered the Chateau. The house rumbled slightly, an ominous purr, and Rufus and Camilla tensed. Then the Reds stepped forward, and each took one of Camilla’s hands. The tween shot a look at Rufus, who shot a look at me.
I shrugged. “I just work here. Them’s the real bosses. Ever tried to tell a teenager what to do? Or a redhead? Or two of them? They know all,” I stated, soberly. I remembered something my mom had once told me. Raising a teenager is like nailing Jell-O to a tree. I smiled to mysel
f.
Sonya piped up. “It’s true. Just like I knew that the dragon wasn’t really our…” her voice trailed off, suddenly remembering Tory was right there. Tory’s eyes were pained, but she nodded, as if telling Sonya that she was okay.
Aria backed her up. “It’s all in the scent,” she added softly.
After a moment of silence, the three young girls giggled as if at an inside joke, and then left to explore the house.
I climbed to my feet and led Rufus and Tory into the living room where I had first met the wizard. “So, how are things?” I asked him sarcastically.
He shot me a dazzling smile. “You’re the best kind of crazy.”
“I guess so. Camilla’s alright then?”
He frowned for a moment, peering off at nothing as if able to see through the walls to his daughter. “I think so. She has nightmares. Those monsters hurt her. I don’t know if she will ever be the same. But I don’t know how to help her.” He cast his eyes down into his lap, sighing. Then he chuckled darkly. “At least I can help carry some of her burden now,” he said, rubbing a hand over the claw mark on his face, where a shifter had attacked him during his rescue attempt.
I blinked. “What flavor?” I asked curiously.
Tory answered, suddenly smiling. “Chimera,” she murmured approvingly.
Rufus nodded. “Aye. It will take some getting used to, and I’ll likely be her student in that regard. At least for a time. Not sure what that’s going to do with my magic, but we’ll find that out as we go, I guess.”
“Perhaps I can help both of you,” Tory offered.
We both turned to her, curious.
“I’ve been feeling the same way about the others we rescued. They need… rehabilitation. And, after all, I am a Beast Master. I’m already training two red dragons. And I feel slightly responsible for the others. I could help you two. Or at least try. I’m friends with a lot of monsters. Thanks to him.” She pointed a thumb at me, smiling.
Beast Master: A Novel in The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series (The Temple Chronicles Book 5) Page 35
