Tiny Gods: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 6 (The Temple Chronicles)

by Shayne Silvers

  Then she disappeared as well.

  I stared at the only other person in the hall.

  Fucking Carl.

  “What the hell, man? Mistress?” I asked, ready to kill something or go to sleep.

  Before Carl could answer – although he did look embarrassed – Achilles burst into the room.

  “I got the last of them a few minutes ago. Little Asian dude. Not sure if he died or just disappeared. But I whipped him good. You guys see that guy in tights with the stache?” he asked, incredulous, shaking his head. “I think he bolted a while ago. What did I miss?”

  I just stared at him. “Nothing.”

  Everything, I thought to myself.

  I shook my head, focusing on task. “Did you find any kids?”

  Achilles was frowning at the two of us. “No, I think they must have left already. I just saw Skinny Jeans, and The Asian riding their black clouds, but they didn’t bother me.” He walked closer, studying me. “You look troubled. Did someone die?”

  I shook my head, slowly turning in a circle to assess the damage.

  There was a lot. I finally settled on Carl, anger building.

  Achilles noticed this. “Did you catch Carl eating someone, too? I told him to stop. But at least he stopped the guy from burning the whole place down.”

  Carl hissed at him, the equivalent of sticking out his tongue at a younger brother for tattling to Daddy about something he had done wrong.

  I grabbed Carl by the leather straps of his shirt. “You ate someone?”

  Carl wilted. “Just a little. He had a face made of fire. Barely a snack. Like crispy bacon.”

  Achilles grimaced in disgust. I shoved Carl away, muttering darkly. “No more field trips for you, Carl. Let’s go.”

  This time, I opened a Gateway to the apartments. One of the walls collapsed behind us and I sighed in defeat, stepping through. At least nothing was on fire. I needed to make sure everyone was alright. Then go have a talk with Mallory. But first, maybe I would just replay my conversation with Indie, try to gain some perspective.

  Not to remember our kiss.

  Well, maybe a little…

  Chapter 34

  School was cancelled. Which made Gunnar the best Vice Principal ever. The kids were fine. No injuries, although they had needed to let off some steam, shifting freely and running around in the undeveloped fields behind the apartment complex. Under strict wolf and dragon supervision, of course. Even the weregorilla had no lasting damage.

  Tory was rightfully pissed. But she had agreed to swing by Chateau Falco to pick up the Moonstones Pandora had given me. I had given them to Dean in case I was busy. You know, robbing the Academy, or something.

  To be honest, everyone was a little pissed. I had waved off Alucard’s offer for help, urging him to help Tory instead. Help the students. Keep an eye out. He had agreed, pouting about it.

  I had promised to call Gunnar and Achilles when I was ready to leave for Alexandria. Achilles had followed me back to the Armory and I had given him the stupid helmet without a word. Sensing my mood, he hadn’t teased me.

  Because I couldn’t shake my head from thoughts of Indie.

  A small part of me wanted to raid the Academy and burn the place to the ground. Or die trying. Anything to avoid the pain of emotions ripping through me. Ripping my partially sewn-up heart back into two pieces. It hurt a whole helluva lot more than it had the first time.

  Which had been excruciating.

  My head was now officially screwed loose.

  I walked through the halls of my mansion, following no pattern, simply wandering. I found myself doing double-takes every time I passed something that may have been a secret door. Because even spaces that didn’t appear to be anything special had proven to be extra special.

  As in, no one had set foot there in hundreds of years, as far as I could tell.

  The house told me things, encouraging me, sensing my pain, and wanting to help. But I was too distracted to pay even the voice any attention. I walked the upper floor, in the hallway where I had first seen Carl out by the pale tree through the mansion’s magical windows.

  Guardians – griffin and gargoyle statues that guarded my home – prowled the hallways openly, not even bothering to pretend to be stone. Each slowed, dipping a head my way as I approached. I paid them no heed. I felt their ancient eyes assessing me, checking for injury, but the house shooshed them, giving me peace.

  They were on high alert. Not just because of Indie. But also because of my message to the Academy. I hadn’t heard anything back from them, but to be honest, their response might be to drop a magical nuke on my home.

  The way the house growled when I thought that made me briefly wonder what would happen as a result. If she could just shrug it off or if something like that could harm her.

  I continued on down the stairs, through hallways of paintings, decorations, artifacts, weapons, and art pieces. They were all familiar to me from my childhood. But I paid them no attention this time, other than to idly wonder which of them were secret door handles, or hiding a door, or weapons caches, or a freaking caged demon or something.

  Because I had discovered that my 17,000-square-foot mansion – the one that had been in my family for hundreds of years – was much, much bigger than I had ever imagined. And that it had more secrets than I ever thought possible.

  So, despite everything feeling familiar to me, it felt alien and foreign at the same time. Like I was exploring a vast new territory in the American Colonies, rather than walking through the hallways of an old friend.

  After an hour of aimless wandering, I found myself standing at the door I had discovered earlier with Death and Carl. I stared at the tapestry covering the wall, appreciating the forest scene. I even took a few steps to glance out a nearby window, confirming that it was indeed an exterior wall.

  I came back to the rug and stared at it again, idly brushing my bandage with my thumb, like your tongue did with a loose tooth. It no longer hurt as badly, although it was still unpleasant.

  I felt no magic. No warning. Just an old rug on a wall.

  Someone coughed behind me. I didn’t flinch, feeling safe in my home since it was on lockdown, merely turning to glance over a shoulder. Mallory stared at me, hands folded behind his back, legs planted firmly on the marble floor. He waited.

  I studied him for a few moments, and then turned to face the wall again, not speaking.

  I slowly reached out, tugging back the tapestry, and looked back over my shoulder at Mallory. He slowly began to approach, but stopped in his tracks, eyes widening as he stared at the wall. I didn’t react, just slowly turned to stare at the rotating rocks.

  But, the stones weren’t rotating. Instead, they had shifted into a waterfall of sand, spilling down into an unseen grate on the floor. At least, I hadn’t seen the grate earlier. The sand continued to fall for a few seconds, and then there was simply nothing between us and a long dark hallway. I kept my face expressionless. Let Mallory think what he would.

  And I took a step. The purple torch flared into existence the moment I crossed the barrier.

  I heard Mallory gasp behind me, but I ignored it and continued on.

  I had nothing to explain to him.

  He had some things to explain to me.

  I continued down the hallway, smirking for the first time in a while as I listened to Mallory curse as he discovered that the torches extinguished behind him just as rapidly as they ignited ahead of me. I didn’t tell him that the house had whispered that I could simply keep them all alight if I desired.

  Because making people uncomfortable felt good right now. Especially after Indie messing with my head. It was Mallory’s turn to come clean. I was pretty sure that was why he had come.

  We entered the cavern, and I made my way over to the desk. I sat in the chair, and propped my feet up, leaning back. Mallory stared at our surroundings for a moment before turning back to me, composing himself. I motioned for him to take a look. He didn’t
walk away, merely swiveled his head, taking everything in. I flicked open the book on the desk, rereading the letter I had found inside, written to Matthias. I didn’t recall his name as a Temple, but I had never made it a priority to learn very much about my history. Well, that wasn’t true. I had spent quite a bit of time in the Temple Mausoleum at Bellefontaine Cemetery.

  But the name Matthias didn’t ring a bell.

  Which meant he hadn’t been buried there. Perhaps he had fled back overseas. It wasn’t uncommon to find gaps like that in an old family like ours. Often, certain members would find great interest in validating their family trees, tracing back each ancestor and all the things they had accomplished in their lifetimes. Take our Mausoleum, for example. Each member buried there had a statue, a sarcophagus, and a leather-bound book on their life. The Temple Clan had started out that way, like most European royalty.

  But it had been a long time since anyone had shared that passion for genealogy.

  I had mainly paid attention to the high points. And whatever statues looked particularly cool in the Mausoleum.

  So, the name Matthias meant nothing to me. Because I had never seen his statue. Of course, if I had wanted to, I could have checked the family tree in the Mausoleum. That was kept up to date magically, sporting a colored gemstone for each trace of Temple blood in the world. It was how I had found out Ichabod was my ancestor. After counting to five greats, I had given up trying to find out exactly what we were in relation to each other. All that mattered to me was that he was a Temple.

  I flipped through the book, wanting to find out more about this Matthias, the last occupant of this mysterious room. Ichabod’s father. I don’t know why. It didn’t really matter.

  Well, bloodlines didn’t matter, anyway.

  What did matter was his reasons for this room, what the room was, anything about mastering the Beast of the house, and what it meant. Because I had never met anyone – and hadn’t known myself – that my house was sentient, and waiting for a new Master Temple to dominate her.

  Because the ancient appellation of Master had not just been an ego preference. It had apparently meant something, once upon a time. Master Temple was master of his house, or, the possessed Beast that masqueraded as a house.

  Also, the message had mentioned Grimm, capitalized, in the middle of a sentence. Where none of the other words had been unnecessarily capitalized. I set the book on its spine, letting it fall open of its own devising as my eyes roamed to the bookshelf where I had picked up the book that the house had guided me to. Deus Ex Machina. Fable or Fact?

  Another folded piece of paper fell out of the book, brushing against my fingers. I stared down at it, pondering. This journal also seemed to double as a massive to do list, with random bits of paper, scratch notes, even a dried flower and a butterfly wing inside. Ichabod was written beside the wing in a child’s handwriting, with a crude heart sketched underneath. I smiled absently, reading some of the notes.

  Visit mausoleum And Kill rats. Castor Queen meeting. Hide scotch. Body of water accumulating by back shed…

  And a bunch of other random notes and reminders. Nothing important. Other than the name Castor which had been the correspondent in the original message now sitting beside the book. I idly unfolded the paper that had fallen out as Mallory walked over to one of the bookshelves, perusing the collection.

  I scanned the paper quickly, but stopped, jumping back to the top as the tone caught my eye.

  Matthias Temple,

  We have sorely missed your attendance at recent Academy formal functions. We understand that the Americas are a wild place, full of new magic, but hope that you and your Colonial colleagues can find time to meet with us in the near future. We have much to discuss…

  On another note, your recent proposal has been declined. Although we applaud your academic ability to approach problems from a different direction in order to provide a unique solution, your most recent missive has too much potential for dire consequences. We politely advise you that further interference in such matters will bring down the full displeasure of the Academy.

  We implore you to continue seeking alternative solutions to the issue at hand, as we are entirely aware of the infestation you face, and would offer our full assistance behind a less-cataclysmic solution.

  Warmest regards,

  Grand Master Killian

  I leaned back, tapping the letter on the table. There was a date on the bottom, but it was smudged with a tea stain. What were you proposing? I thought to myself. And what was the problem they were referring to? It was funny to hear that Matthias and his pals seemed too busy to attend bullshit political Academy meetings. Not much had changed in the Temple Clan.

  But even more importantly, had he heeded or ignored their warning? Because in old letters like that, they were very precise with their wording, not often exaggerating or embellishing.

  A different era.

  Which meant they were terrified of whatever he had proposed.

  I glanced up to see Mallory watching me. I spoke loud enough to be heard over the waterfall. “How were you able to stop Indie when she broke in? She is a Grimm. With Maker powers.”

  Mallory didn’t answer.

  “This is your last chance, Mallory. Things are getting out of control. I’ve given you enough rope to hang yourself, trusting you with my life. Things have changed. The game has gotten larger. Or, at least I’m now discovering that it was always much bigger. I need to know.”

  Without a word, Mallory turned his back on me, approaching the bookshelf.

  Part of me wanted to roast him alive for the disrespect, but I saw that he was reaching for a book. I stood anyway, just in case he was about to turn evil on me, revealing he was Lucifer or something equally ridiculous.

  His scarred fingers touched the spine of a book, and the torch beside him flared to life.

  Then he froze, unmoving. Not removing the book, not placing it back. Just standing there. I would have thought a spell had shut him down or something, but I could see he was still breathing, and I felt no magic. Still, I very cautiously took a few steps closer.

  And that’s when I saw it.

  His shadow. It was not human. At all. He really was Lucifer!

  The words from my crest whispered in my ears. Non Serviam…

  Chapter 35

  Whips of fire exploded from each fist as I prepared to fight the demon king about to erupt from beneath Mallory’s skin. Because I had let him inside the cavern, and who knew what dangerous, powerful items were stored here?

  But Mallory still didn’t move, even hearing my weapons at his back.

  Which gave me pause. Not much, but enough to allow him to speak.

  “You have no idea how glad I am to finally be rid of that stupid accent,” a strange voice spoke from the man that had been Mallory. He still looked the same, well, from the back, because he still faced the bookshelf, hand touching the partially withdrawn book.

  And I realized why. He had discerned the purpose of the torches, and that they worked after a book was withdrawn. He had let the torch show me his shadow.

  The shadow of a hulking, looming, massive swath of black. Two curled horns extended from a very shaggy silhouette. But Mallory, the man, looked the same.

  In fact, the shape kind of reminded me of the Beauty and the Beast.

  He gently shoved the book back, and the torch winked out. He slowly turned to face me, smiling sadly, still human. “Know my intent was pure,” he whispered. And he began to shift.

  My pulse raced as – ever so slowly – a monster was sculpted from the man I had known. The man who had worked for my father for years. The man I had shared hundreds of drinks with. The man who had saved me countless times. The man who had killed for me. Defended my friends.

  All while holding a big, big secret.

  My sense of alarm grew as his legs were replaced by shaggy, cloven hooves, and his chest doubled in size, revealing a tall and lean, almost hunch-backed figure wearing an ancient,
tattered shawl and brown leather shorts. His face began to change next, revealing a hairy… beast of a creature. I couldn’t quite say what he looked like, because he resembled many different types of animals. Bear, wolf, ox… yet none of these.

  And those curled horns were impressive, spiraling on either side of his head like a Princess Leia up-do, before the tips curved out to reveal efficient head-butting weapons.

  “Wow, you really are Beast.” And I realized he didn’t look like any demon I had ever met. And he didn’t have wings, so I was betting he wasn’t actually Lucifer.

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s all you’ve got, boy?” His eyes were a deep golden color, casting a soothing, peaceful sensation on me despite our distance. As if I could sit and stare at him for hours, losing myself in the depths of them.

  I stared at him, then glanced down at my whips.

  He shook his head, lifting his beefy, calloused palms to me in a stop motion. “I have never, and will never, mean you harm. You have my word. On my power. But… I’d like you to guess.”

  Even though I hadn’t been using any magic to bind him to an oath, I felt his magic pulsating around him, binding himself to his words. I snuffed out my whips, folding my arms as I studied him. But… that didn’t make any sense.

  I said as much. Which made him laugh.

  “I thought you were going to be Zeus, or Perun, or some Druidic god. Hell, even Lucifer crossed my mind,” I said, pointing at his hooves and horns.

  He frowned. “Lucifer? Seriously?” he growled, taking offense. “The other three were my intent. I even stole some items, modified my speech, and went to great lengths to misdirect those around me.”

  “But the Huntress knew you.”

  Mallory shook his head. “No, she thought she did. She knew I was an Old One, but she was only guessing about which.”