I frowned. “Well, I’m sure some of them would have wanted to, but the others stopped them. Checks and balances.”
He nodded enthusiastically, as if I had hit the nail on the head. “I’m not looking to bring a vengeful, human-hating god back. That wouldn’t go well for any of us. After all, my goal is to punish the guilty, not harm the innocent. If I simply wanted the world to end in ruin, I would let the Syndicate have their way, find a quiet home in a quiet corner of the world, and a woman to keep me company. Try to build a library like my father once had. Maybe even get into the book acquisition business,” he teased, grinning.
“Fat chance, old man,” I said, smiling lightly.
He held up his hands in defeat, grinning. “Maybe work for you, rather than trying to compete with you, then. Spend some time reconnecting with my family…” he said, practically a whisper.
I smiled, but the thought was dashed almost immediately. “But you’ll be working for a god.”
He leaned back, thinking. “Perhaps. But like I said, I don’t intend to bring back a vengeful god. Just a god. Perhaps even a nurturing god. One who can help heal this broken world…” He watched me, gauging my reaction. Before I could reply, his eyes lit up. “How about this? You give me a list of gods you don’t want woken up. Then a list of gods you would be okay with. Like I said, I’m not trying to start Armageddon, or Ragnarok. I simply want to punish the wicked. Those who have attempted, and largely succeeded, in enslaving us for so long.”
And I began to wonder. What if he was right? What if Shiva was lying, playing a game of his own, jealously hoarding our world for himself? What if we could wake a god, one willing to help heal the cancer of the Syndicate. Not for pain and war, but because they were a slow, lethal poison in our world. A healing god of some flavor.
And an icy chill raced down my spine. A mix of fear, and… hope.
Could he be right? Or was he playing me?
Or was he simply speaking to a relative, admitting his failures, and wanting to rejoin the family? I had met the Hatter. He was a good guy. Dangerous, sure. But everyone I knew was dangerous. The Hatter was a bit cracked now, but had started the Syndicate to prevent the Academy from becoming too powerful. He had lost control of his creation because he had underestimated the greed of his friend, Castor Queen. Queen had wanted power. And had been willing to do anything to get it. Because thus was the nature of man. Not all men, but as a collective, we were pretty violent little creatures. Power-hungry, greedy. Good, sweet, and kind, too. But it only took a few bad apples to ruin a barrel.
But a god? Other than the famed Olympians – who were known far and wide for their pettiness – most gods seemed above such ambitions. After all, they already had power.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly, thinking furiously at all the possibilities.
He nodded. “I understand. It is a big decision. But consider this. You’ve been sleeping for centuries, millennia. You suddenly wake up and want to play…” he met my eyes. “Would you immediately go out and light all your toys on fire?” He held up his hands. “I know some would, but that’s why I give you the option. Choose whomever you want. We will discuss and debate, of course. I may have knowledge that you don’t, and vice versa, but together, I’m confident we can come up with a god who is suitable to the task, and not malicious.”
I took a sip of my drink, considering the positives and the negatives.
“Despite our past interactions, and the way I portrayed myself. I am not a bad person. Quite the opposite. I want to punish bad people. I’ve crossed lines, done things I regret… But they were all in hopes of avenging my father. You once did the same thing, from what Indie has told me.” I frowned, but he wasn’t looking at me. He took a deep breath, as if debating speaking further. “I also made a Blood Debt. Against the Syndicate,” he added in a very soft voice. “And ironically, both yours and mine were related to them, although you didn’t know it at the time. I cannot change my course. The power used in my Blood Debt will not allow it…”
I just stared, everything suddenly making much more sense. He had to finish this.
Because Blood Debts were no joke. His drive and ambition suddenly made a lot of sense.
He set his napkin down, and propped his forearms on the table. “I will proceed in one day. Tomorrow night. Sunset. You can help me, even pick the god. Or, we can continue on as we were. At odds,” he said softly, a torn look on his face. “I truly hope that is not the case.”
“I’ll need to think on this,” I said, going back and forth in my mind. “My father wanted me to tell you that not all of the Syndicate were bad. Some were like him… Like your father.”
Ichabod nodded in understanding. “They will be given opportunity to repeal and repent, as it were. I won’t blindly execute.” He leaned forward, face serious. “But I will require proof. Many will lie, scheme, cheat, and manipulate to save their hides. Much as an atheist will pray on his death bed. This is a den of vipers, and we must tread carefully. I have no desire to harm an innocent man. But they will need to prove their innocence, and a god will be able to see through the lies.” He brushed off his hands, ending the conversation. “Shall I drive you home?”
I shook my head. “Thank you, but I’m going to take a walk. Clear my head.”
“Understandable. Tomorrow. Sunset. Beneath the Arch,” he said. “I’ll be available prior if you wish to speak with me.” He turned to go, but paused. “Oh, and if you manage to locate Indie, please let me know. I will do this with or without her, but I’m concerned that she may cause herself harm.” He glanced back, meeting my eyes. “Or those close to her.”
I nodded absently, swirling the last of my drink as he paid for dinner and left the restaurant.
I spent a good thirty minutes going over every option, back and forth, playing devil’s advocate against myself. I finally downed my drink with a growl.
I needed objectivity, and after the meeting with my parents, then Ichabod, I didn’t have it.
What does every lone man do when they need to rejuvenate?
I called my dog.
Chapter 58
Gunnar blinked at me several times, shaking his head. “That is some seriously heavy stuff,” he said, resting his face in his upturned palms, then slowly sliding his fingers through his long, blonde hair. He still wore no man bun, for which I was eternally grateful. Maybe it had finally gone out of style.
I nodded back at him. “Right?”
“And this all happened last night? Over dinner?” I nodded. I had called Gunnar last night, telling him to meet me in the morning. Then I had guzzled several glasses of water, and gotten some much-needed sleep, waking up early to eat a big breakfast. I wanted to be juiced up and ready to go when shit hit the fan. Since I now definitively knew the feces were a-flying.
After breakfast, I had found the mutt on my doorstep, like any faithful hound. Gunnar leaned back in the chair now, lifting the front two legs off the ground as he propped his boots onto the ancient, priceless table, amazed as he stared out at the incredible surroundings.
“Really?” I motioned towards his feet.
“Yes,” he replied, not looking at me, eye still tracking the Sanctorum.
I flicked my finger, flipping the front of the chair up so that he crashed to the ground on his back in a loud gust of air. I didn’t let the chair fall though. He sat there for a moment, and then began to laugh, resting his hands on his large chest. He then pointed up at the ceiling.
“Your favorite. Like a ceiling of glitter.”
I rolled my eyes, and grasped his hand, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s walk. We need to work on your heel.” He merely shook his head, matching my stride. I pointedly glanced down at his boots, acknowledging him with positive reinforcement. “Good boy. Good heel.”
He punched me in the arm, lightly for him, but still jarring to me. After a few moments of silence, walking through the center of the massive cavern of books, artifacts, and statues, he spoke up. “Can I fi
nally see it?” he asked excitedly.
I smiled, pulling the Silver Dollar from my pocket. I flipped it on my thumb in a high arc. He shot out a hand to catch it, and an invisible bolt of lightning struck him from on high, along with the now familiar wails of the damned, sending him flipping over a small couch before rolling into one of the shelves. I burst out laughing, having forgotten what it had done to Ichabod.
He groaned, climbing to his feet as he shot me a scowl. “You did that on purpose.”
I laughed harder, shaking my head. “No, but I should have remembered. The same thing happened to Ichabod. I honestly forgot.” I scratched my beard idly. “But if I had remembered, I would have done the exact same thing,” I admitted, scooping up the coin from the ground.
“Put it on. I want to see what it looks like.”
I shook my head, shoving the coin into my pocket. “No way, man. One time was enough.”
He pondered me. “Then why are you still carrying it around?”
I opened my mouth, then let it close. “Just in case, I guess,” I said, hoping to change subjects.
He grunted, and rejoined me on our walk. It was fun to watch him, because rather like a new puppy, his eye darted from item to item, up, down, left, right – sensory overload. I had made him swear an oath never to share, talk about, or repeat anything about the very existence of this place. Even to Ashley. He hadn’t liked that last part, but memories of my conversation with Ichabod, that the Syndicate was known to find weaknesses and exploit that person into working for them, any one of my friends could be more than they appeared. Even if they didn’t want to be.
Everything the Syndicate touched turned to poison. Inciting fear. Both in those working for them, and those working against them. Another point in Ichabod’s favor.
But then Shiva had warned me how terrible it could be to wake a god… unless he was lying.
It was one of the main reasons I had wanted no part of my Maker’s power. Well, that and it would have been taken from me regardless if I had missed my deadline against the Beast Master.
Fucking curses. Get you every time. Twice, in my case.
“Why aren’t you talking with your dad? Mom?” Gunnar asked, having to contort his head much more than most to view the entire cavern. Because he only had one eye to see it with.
“We said our goodbyes. It was… good. About as good as I could ask for. Anything else would have just tarnished it. It’s possible that I would have simply stayed there with them until they left, always wanting more, torturing myself and them. Death was right. Clean break is best.”
Gunnar nodded in understanding, but he did shoot a sympathetic look my way.
“Plus, I’m trying to avoid my emotions right now. Sitting with them wouldn’t help. I need to be objective. I don’t have too long to make a decision.”
“And you’re still convinced it was all a setup? This big secret life plan thing? That you’re not just reading too much into your father’s comments?”
I shook my head. “Mallory confirmed it.” Then I paused, looking at him. “Even you.”
“What?” he frowned, slowing down to look at me.
“Your… adoption,” I pointed at the rune on his wrist, the one that meant family. “Everything. He said I needed a protector. And you came along…”
He was dead silent for a minute, because I hadn’t shared that particular piece of information with him when I told him the situation. “Your telling me that your parents had something to do with me being an orphan?” his voice was very low.
I shook my head quickly. “I’m not saying that at all. My father – from some old book, or a conversation with some… being – learned that I would need a protector. Two, actually. Mallory and you. He hired Mallory, and found you. I’m not sure if he picked you because we were friends, or if he somehow helped us become friends. All I know is that our friendship was initiated for a purpose. Good thing we get along, eh?”
“Speak for yourself,” he muttered, a faint grin on his face. But I could tell he was troubled.
He opened his mouth, lifting his hands up at the room around us, a dozen questions in his eye. And then the walls began to rumble ominously, and a tingling, unpleasant feeling suddenly dug into the base of my neck. Not physical, but a sensation that something was very, very wrong.
“We need to go. Now!” I shouted, turning to sprint back the way we had come. Gunnar raced behind me, boots pounding into the floor. I veered off into the hallway, torches bursting to light in rapid pops, extinguishing behind me just as fast so that it sounded like an ominous staccato drumbeat, urging us on, faster. Gunnar was nipping at my heels to stay within the light as we burst back through the opening into Chateau Falco.
I heard the wall sealing behind us, hiding the doorway, but I was too stunned by the rest of the house to pay it any mind.
It was almost quivering with rage, like a low, earthly growl.
If it had been an animal, it would have been snarling.
Gunnar instantly shifted into his wolf form, an explosion of fabric confetti raining down on us. I shot him a look, and nodded. He tore off down the hallway, sniffing the air as he ran.
I chased him, wondering what the hell was going on.
With a curse, I realized that I had forgotten to turn the security back on. I tried to do so as I ran, but felt a very strong resistance pushing against me, which was what was infuriating Chateau Falco.
Because someone was already here. Either a lot of someones, or one very powerful someone.
Chapter 59
I pelted after Gunnar as he burst through the open door leading outside. Mallory was on the roof, shooting down towards the tree, judging from the concussive booms that echoed across the morning landscape as I continued running towards the action. But whatever he was aiming at wasn’t being hit, because all I heard were explosive clanging sounds coming from the direction of the tree. Some kind of shield or something.
But it was loud.
A dragon roared, illuminating the sky with flame. Wolves snarled and yelped. Blade struck blade in thunderous blows. At least Tory and Alucard had taken the students home to rest, because this sounded like full-blown war.
Then I saw them around the base of the tree. Indie, with her eyes closed, holding out her hands intently, and the air warping slowly before her as she tried to open the Gateway to the land of the Grimms.
Helmut Grimm still wore his sunglasses as he fought both dragon and wolf with a large sword, not seeming to break a sweat. Then he abandoned his sword in favor of shifting to match the wolves and dragon. Predator on predator.
The air began to grow darker before Indie, and Ashley lunged to tackle her just as I reached striking distance. But Gunnar was faster. He struck his fiancée mid-air, sending them both tumbling into Indie, knocking her from her feet, and ruining her Gateway. Gunnar’s white-furred wolf form landed on top of Ashley’s smaller, wiry black wolf-form, fangs gently resting against her throat. She whimpered in submission, but didn’t sound pleased. But Gunnar knew I was undecided on Indie, that I wanted to talk to her, find out what the hell had turned her psychotic.
Indie jumped to her feet, eyes black orbs, hands outstretched like claws. In fact, they suddenly became claws as she glared first at the wolves, and then me. Which would make this all the more difficult. Two Grimms against a few wolves, Carl, and…
I blinked. The Reds! They must have snuck away from Tory’s watchful eye.
The teenaged were-dragons darted back and forth before Helmut, long, graceful necks flicking sinuously at the Grimm, trying to take a quick bite out of him. But he was now a larger red dragon. I shot a pleading look at Carl before turning back to Indie.
She still had her claws outstretched at her hips, and she took an aggressive step my way, shouting, “How dare you work with them! The Syndicate are EVIL!” and she threw a bar of white fire directly at me. I barely avoided it, diving to the side at the last second. I had seen that once before. Because it had almost killed my frie
nd, Othello. I met her eyes, shocked she would resort to such lethality so soon, and I saw a panicked look in her eyes, as if she was afraid of what she had just done. Just like she had when she had thrown the spell at Othello. She had crossed a line.
“I’m not working with anyone!” I shouted, drawing her attention back to me. I couldn’t have her attacking Gunnar and Ashley, who were only just now getting to their feet. I shook my head, eyes darting to Gunnar. He got the hint, and circled around to help against Helmut, leaving Indie and I to face each other.
Another bullet struck an invisible dome around us with a loud pinging sound, and Indie’s dark eyes angrily darted up to where Mallory was likely perched on the roof. I had no idea if she could do anything about him from here, or even see him, but I wasn’t going to let her try. I called on my whips, fire this time. I cracked one twice above her head, showering her with sparks.
Her black-eyed gaze shot my way, and her lips pulled back with fury. “I will have my revenge, Nate. The Syndicate will burn…” she promised. “And all those who aid them.”
Ashley was not an obedient puppy.
Because, out of nowhere, she was suddenly airborne again, sailing straight at Indie’s back. I hadn’t even seen her circle around, and Indie had no idea. From my position, I could do nothing to prevent it.
I opened my mouth to shout a warning, but I let out a strange squawk instead.
Because Carl was suddenly between them, calmly kicking Ashley away before she could make contact. Without pausing, he flicked out a hand, and lightly tapped Indie on the spine.
She crumpled like a wet noodle, unconscious or dead, I wasn’t sure.
I stared incredulously. Carl acknowledged me with a wary bow before turning to Ashley who was clawing back to her feet. He bowed to her as well, ignoring the feral look in her eyes.
“My apologies, wolf. I thought it better not to maim Master Temple’s fiancée.” He glanced at me, eyes hopeful that I would agree. “Despite their recent… relationship struggles. Love conquers all, as they say…” he added as if asking a question, cocking his head like a lizard.
Tiny Gods: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 6 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 30
