“Tory,” I began, “that’s a big responsibility. There are over two dozen of them.”
“Enough for a classroom,” she argued.
“Okay, Professor X. Where are you going to train them?”
She smiled darkly. “I was meaning to talk to you about the old Temple Industries property. The one scheduled for demolition.”
I felt a smile begin to creep onto my face. “Interesting…”
A sudden tingle raced down my arms. A warning from the house. I instantly feared for the children, but as if sensing my alarm, the sensation faded, and I felt a flare of power, a beacon, coming from outside. Sudden realization dawned on me. I looked up to see Rufus and Tory staring at me. “You okay, Nate?”
I nodded, climbing to my feet, and replying over my shoulder as I headed back towards the now door-less front entrance. “Discuss this proposition. I need to see an elephant about a belt.”
I left the room and saw Dean clutching a broom in one hand, staring at the crushed cabinet and the door lying a dozen paces away on the marble floor of the foyer.
I sighed. “Yeah. I didn’t do this one. Need some Pledge or something?”
Dean scowled for a moment, and then in an impeccable accent, said, “I clean…”
It was exactly like the Hispanic cleaning lady from Family Guy. His eyes twinkled with a faint, grateful smile to see me somewhat back to normal. I bowed formally to him and left.
Time to go meet a god and a monster.
Chapter 66
I glared at the uninvited third party leaning lazily against the tree.
“Your Brothers are all assholes, but you…” I began, scowling at the Pale Rider. He merely nodded. “Nice gift. Would have been even nicer if you had told me about it beforehand so I didn’t have a heart attack when my ex-girlfriend tried to kill my other ex-girlfriend.”
Death dipped his head, grinning like a shark. “No fun in that.”
I scowled one more time for good measure, and then appraised the two giants sitting on the ground before the tree, away from Death.
They were having a duel.
Or napping.
I shot a look back at Death, who merely shrugged, and then suddenly whipped out his scythe. The air screamed with the sound of a million lost souls crying out in agony before he settled the butt of the weapon in the earth. Then he began to sharpen the blade with practiced motions. The glowing runes seemed to absorb energy from the tree. He noticed it at the same time as me, and hastily re-holstered the weapon behind his back so that the crescent blade hung over a shoulder like a single-winged Angel. Then the blade faded from view so that only an ornate handle – much like my sword cane used to do – rested on one shoulder. He grimaced at my interest, and folded his arms.
Interesting. Our blades were similar. But I was getting a little annoyed at the amount of similarities between myself and the other Horsemen.
I turned back to Ganesh and Asterion. The elephant and the bull.
They knelt in traditional meditation poses.
Ganesh sat much like every statue of him you’ve probably seen, this time with no shirt or robe. Three of his hands were empty. The last held the jagged end of his broken tusk.
Asterion sat opposite him, a good six feet away. Eyes closed, nose ring faintly swinging back and forth with each bellow of breath. His prayer beads hung free, and I noticed runes dotting each bead, but couldn’t get close enough to depict them without startling him.
An intricately knotted silk scarf sat between the two.
I waited a minute. Then two. Then another, before letting out an impatient sigh.
“I guess I’ll just come back later.”
“No patience in kids these days,” Ganesh grumbled, cracking an eye open. “You think after everything that happened, you would be less impatient for your own death.”
Asterion chuckled, opening his eyes also.
I shrugged. “I guess I simply lost concern for my life. I also don’t feel like standing out here, freezing my ass off, while you two meditate on a knotted scarf.”
“Knotted scarf?” Ganesh asked, sounding amused.
Asterion abruptly snorted in frustration, “Dirty cheater.”
I glanced down to see that the scarf was now perfectly untied, not even wrinkled where a few moments before, it had been knotted. In fact, it faintly steamed as if just pressed at a dry-cleaners. And it was folded in a perfect little square.
I stared in disbelief at the fact that neither of them had moved to untie the scarf. Yet I had clearly seen it knotted, and then unknotted. And I had sensed no magic to untie it.
Asterion noticed my look and grinned. “A meditation practice. You try to mentally untie the knot, focusing on it so intently that it happens in the real world.” He leaned closer, whispering. “Without magic.”
I frowned. “That sounds… astoundingly useless.”
Ganesh arched a brow at me.
And then I was suddenly naked. Magically nude. Except… not magically. I hadn’t sensed a thing. My hands shot to cover my crotch, and Death burst out laughing. “Hey!” I shouted, skin instantly pebbling as my danger-zone threatened to mutiny and climb up inside my body. “What the hell?”
“Astoundingly useless, you say?” the giant elephant grinned at me. “Meditation is not to be trifled with, boy.” He studied my face thoughtfully. “Yet another feather to add to your cap one day, possibly,” he murmured, cryptically. And my clothes were suddenly back. I jumped up and down a bit, trying to regain some warmth as I shoved my hands in my pockets.
“Okay. It was kind of cool.” I stared at the scarf, thinking. “But a knot? Seems like with all your practice, a single knot might be cheating.”
Asterion smiled. “Tell him.”
Ganesh held out two hands at the neatly-folded scarf, his two other hands resting peacefully on his knees. “That knot was folded 77 times. That was the first part of our duel. Which of us could add the last knot.” He pointed a thick sausage finger at Asterion. “The Minotaur won that one. Apparently, the Greeks are good with knots.”
I smiled. “I prefer Alexander’s method.”
Asterion rolled his eyes, but Ganesh frowned, drawing a blank.
I flung my hand down, and slashed the scarf in half with a blade of air.
“Alexander’s solution to the Gordian Knot,” Asterion grumbled.
I nodded. The scarf had split into two pieces, each with a single word written on the silk.
Asterion leaned closer to read it. “Team. Temple.” He frowned up at me.
Ganesh was smiling and I scowled at his subtle use of power to write the words there. “Perhaps that is more symbolic than you intended…”
I stared at the words. Team. Temple. And a frayed gap between the two, breaking up the words. Breaking up the dynamic. The single unit it had once been.
Team Temple was indeed fractured. Indie, for one. But at least the others seemed to be coming around. After hearing my iteration of events behind the scenes.
I grunted unpleasantly. “It’s just a stupid scarf.”
“Much like my property is just a stupid belt…”
And my heart did a little two-step at the warning in his tone.
“Nice knowing you, Temple,” Asterion had stood, and was patting me on the back, inadvertently shoving me closer to the angry elephant god. Then Asterion was gone, speaking in soft murmurs to Death. The two glanced about thoughtfully, and then Death pointed at Carl standing a dozen paces away. Asterion flexed his fists and nodded. They both cast me a look of deep concern, and then huddled closer to speak in light whispers.
“My father warned you not to feed them,” Ganesh murmered in his deep voice.
I turned back to him with a start. “Yeah…” I fumbled for words. “I only fed them a little. And not on purpose.” Ganesh merely watched me. I sighed. “Well, long story short. I lost your belt.”
And I prepared to be skewered by his single remaining tusk. And then, perhaps, eaten like a hot tofu dog.
Ch
apter 67
Ganesh studied the air around us, and then motioned for me to sit.
“I’d rather die on my feet.”
He looked at me. And I was suddenly sitting before him.
Wow. I patted my chest to make sure I still had my clothes, which brought out a faint chuckle from his great big bare belly. The quivering red elephant skin had a pair of words branded into it.
Om Life.
Exactly where Tupac had tattooed Thug Life.
I burst out laughing, pointing at his belly. “Copying Tupac? Really?”
Ganesh shrugged with a smile. “Perhaps he got it from me…”
I let out a breath, still smiling. It didn’t really matter, given the circumstances. “So, how are you going to kill me?” my gaze wandered, taking in the sights, sounds, smells.
Life.
He didn’t speak, so I decided to fill the silence. “I’d like you to know that your belt saved the Winter Queen. I was trying to do the right thing. Everything just…” I fumbled for words, “went sideways,” I finally said.
He studied me patiently. “Oh? And why did the Winter Queen need saving?”
I sighed. “Yeah, okay. Even that was my fault, I guess.” I looked up at him. “I’ve been calling you Ganesh, but your Dad called you Ganesha. I didn’t mean any offense.”
He nodded absently, not looking at me. “He says hello. That you were particularly pleasant company.” I nodded as his eyes continued to roam the grounds. “Seen any ravens lately?” he asked, staring up at the silver canopy above us, catching me off guard at the abrupt change in topic.
I frowned at him, beginning to shake my head, then stopped. “Yeah, now that you mention it… But it was a long time ago. During the Grimm War.”
He frowned at me. “Grimoire?”
“No. Grimm. War.” I paused between each word, enunciating the separation.
“Ah, that.” He pondered my words, staring back up at the tree. “Not since then?”
“I’m not saying they haven’t been there, but I haven’t seen them.” Then I remembered something that hadn’t seemed important at the time. “Well, I heard ravens the other day. When I… well, when I was meditating.” When I had been Making the Prison for my Beast.
His face hardened. “I… see.”
“Why? Was Odin paying me a visit?” I teased. His sharp look shut up the laughter I had been about to expel. Instantly.
“Do. Not. Speak. That. Name.” He was leaning forward now, all four palms pressing into the frosted earth. And it steamed beneath those red leathery palms.
“Okay,” I whispered meekly, staring up at the silver branches, suddenly concerned.
And a fucking raven tore free from the branches, speeding off into the distance. I lowered my wide eyes to Ganesh, and he shot me a single nod. “Take heed,” was all he said.
“Take heed of wh—”
“Mab returned my belt,” he interrupted casually.
I flinched, glancing down at his waist. It wasn’t there. “Wait, what?” I threw up my hands, wanting to break down and cry in both relief, and frustration. “Maybe lead with that rather than letting me contemplate my death for the last few days!”
He cocked his head at me, frowning, as he tapped his jagged broken tusk with one finger. “I often meditate on my death. Memento Mori.” He smiled. “Well, maybe not, remember you are mortal, because, well,” he held out all four hands, encompassing his entire self. “Hello, not mortal.” He winked. “But it is good for one’s health to consider one’s death. Often, and with great attention. You never know what you may learn…”
“Maybe you can give me the fortune cookie version here. Asterion’s already offered to teach me meditation. Not really my thing,” I lied, preferring not to speak of my own vigilant form of meditation. The one I used for my Memory Palace. To organize the almost eidetic memory that threatened to overwhelm me with useless information.
“Yes, this is quite different from your Memory Palace. That is child’s play.”
I rolled my eyes, forgetting that he could read my mind.
“Did you honestly think you won the race?” he asked casually, eyes distant. “I’m curious.”
I frowned. “You mean when we first met?” He nodded, still observing the grounds, almost as if he wasn’t paying attention. “Yeah, I tricked you. Brought Tory along to mess with your ride.”
He was nodding thoughtfully as he turned back to me. “I knew of your Beast Master, Temple. Even if you did not entirely understand her powers.” He leaned forward, grinning at my frown. “I’m good at winning races, boy. I can see that you read that story about me, at least.”
I sighed. “You immortals are no fun,” I grumbled, causing him to chuckle lightly. “Speaking of stories, what’s the deal with your tusk?” I pointed at the broken tusk in his hand.
He frowned down at it. Another hand absently rubbed the jagged tusk near his mouth. “Ah, that.”
I nodded. “I heard you were once challenged to copy a story, but that if your pen stopped, you lost.” He nodded absently. “But your pen broke, so you broke off your tusk, using it to continue, and ultimately win the bet.”
“Seems you have the gist of it,” he murmured.
But I shook my head. “I don’t want the gist of it. I want the truth.” He turned to assess me with hard eyes. “You didn’t even hesitate. If you would have, you would have lost the bet. Which means you must have known it would happen beforehand.” He finally nodded. “But why? It was just a stupid bet…”
He was silent for a long time. “I don’t like to lose.”
I rolled my eyes, leaning forward. “The truth. You’ve played me long enough, elephant man. I’ll at least have that out of you.”
He smiled at that, was silent for another spell, and then studied my face very intently, as if encouraging me to read between the lines of a language I did not speak. “Someday, I hope you realize that there is no such thing as a stupid bet…”
“Go on…” I pressed.
He sighed in resignation. “Perhaps there was more at stake than the story tells. Or that the story led to future decisions that wouldn’t have been possible if I had lost the stupid bet…” His eyes were deep and foreboding for a few seconds, as if seeing things that weren’t there. Then he glanced past my shoulder. He looked up at the sun, and then nodded to himself.
“Ah, right on time,” he said, staring past my shoulder again and waving.
I hadn’t noticed the sensation from the house, but now that I focused on it, I sensed it was practically shouting a warning at its stupid, ignorant, apparently deaf, Master.
Chapter 68
Baba Yaga stalked up to us, and I almost jumped out of my skin in alarm. Ganesha didn’t have the belt on, and Baba was going to kill me. I began filling myself with magic so that I could survive the Russian Witch and her hulking Familiar.
The stench of decay and slaughterhouses wafted closer, seeming worse than before. Perhaps because the Familiar was actually dying again. The two figures stumbled wearily, both in obvious pain, and both looking ready for a fight as they stared at me, practically bursting with magic.
Wizard’s magic. Not Maker’s magic. And I could see they sensed this difference.
Ganesh waved a hand, and the stench evaporated. “I hate that smell,” he said. I blinked at him. I hadn’t felt any motion of air to push it away, so had he simply made it not be? He noticed me full of magic and frowning at him. He held up two hands. “Easy, boy. I summoned her here.”
And a tense feeling crept up my spine. “Wait, actually summoned, or do you mean you simply arranged for her to be here?”
Ganesh frowned. “Why would I do anything but summon her here. I am Ganesh. She is a witch. I do have my dignity, you know.”
He turned back to Baba, and her pain suddenly made more sense. Not only were the two injured, but they had also been summoned here against their will.
“Wait, when you summon someone, it’s practically instantaneous. We’v
e been sitting here talking the whole time…”
“You’ve been talking with one of me. I used another part of me to summon her. It grows quite boring to focus all of my personas on a single topic for longer than a few heartbeats,” he replied flatly. “I’m sure my father shared some of this with you.” Then he turned back to Baba, who was now only paces away, eyes on fire.
I dropped it, idly replaying my conversation with Shiva, wondering what the hell he was talking about.
I was entirely confident that Baba wouldn’t want to hear the specific details of how she had been summoned against her will – to meet the man responsible for her already fatal injuries.
Ganesh nodded politely at them, then his eyes locked onto the Familiar. “Come,”
And the Familiar hulked closer on chicken feet, claws stubbornly, but resolutely dragging through the frost, as if knowing this was its only chance for salvation.
Ganesh touched the Familiar, and its face shot upwards as if receiving an uppercut from an elephant. It gasped, clawed hands stretching wide, and the purple cracks of power began to fade from its bone mask, fading to nothing in mere heartbeats. Baba gasped in response, clutching her abdomen, her tear-stained face staring hopefully at the Familiar, despite her own very intense pain. But I didn’t see his belt anywhere. Perhaps he didn’t have to wear it. Or he could transform it into one of his earrings or something.
Within moments, the healing was done, and both figures stood panting, their breath making tiny clouds of fog in the cool air.
Baba finally lowered her head, and thanked Ganesh between sobs.
She shot me one harsh glare through tear-filled eyes, gritting her iron teeth. Then she froze, cocked her head, and glanced at Chateau Falco behind me, sniffing the air. Then she smiled a grim smile, meeting my eyes. “About time you made peace with your Beast, boy. It’s been a long time since there was a true Master of the Temple Clan.” And then she turned away without another word. She held hands with her Familiar, and they disappeared in a puff of smoke.
I turned to Ganesh, frowning at her words. Temple Clan? I hadn't thought about my house being similar to her Familiar. On further thought, I didn't think I wanted a mansion following me around as a shadow. Inconvenient. I shook my head, saving it for later consideration as I addressed Ganesh. “Why would you help me?” I thought about that. “Help her?”
Beast Master: A Novel in The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series (The Temple Chronicles Book 5) Page 36
