I crawled around on the ground, wiping my eyes, trying to see, not remembering falling. My vision slowly came back, but the world was dark, where before it had been brightly lit by Indie and the pyramid stone.
The Hand of God.
The sun had finally set, to be replaced by a very bright moon and a thin veil of clouds. I heard others cursing, mumbling, and trying to gather themselves as my vision came back. Indie was gone, just a black ring where she had been standing. I turned my head to find Achilles kneeling, his spear stuck in the ground. Helmut Grimm was gone.
In fact, as I looked around, I realized that none of our enemies were standing.
Had we killed them all?
“They just fucking disappeared? All of them?” Pan, was shouting, running from person to person, seemingly not affected by the explosion of power. Which made sense. He was a god. And he seemed to be right. No living enemies were present.
Ganesh openly stared at Pan. “My father would have lost his bet,” he muttered to himself, but loud enough for me to hear.
I frowned, scanning those standing. We had lost several wolves, but everyone was injured to one degree or another. Pan now hurriedly ran from person to person, healing them. Ganesh, body coated in gore, did likewise, calmly murmuring to each person as he placed his belt on them.
Because he had a snakeskin belt that healed things. From almost any injury.
I hoped.
Ashley jumped up from beneath Ganesh’s bulk, naked and eyes wild with the temporary high of Ganesh’s healing belt, but I knew she would crash like a sack of bricks soon. She rolled her hands in amazement, no longer broken, or whatever they had been.
I heard Pan softly blowing his pipes as he knelt over Sonya, who had a fucking hole in her chest. I ran her way, frantic, only to see her jump to her feet as Pan moved on to the next one. Aria clutched her tightly, relieved to have her dragon sister back. Camilla rubbed Sonya’s back with a bloodied hand, murmuring softly. I heard one of the Myrmidons grunt in approval at the display of young, pretty flesh.
I threw a bar of air, knocking him on his ass and into the tree.
“Just be thankful Tory didn’t hear you, Myrmidon,” I growled at his incredulous look.
“Didn’t hear what?” Tory groaned, climbing to her feet with Alucard’s help. They were both liberally coated in blood, and although looking exhausted, didn’t appear injured.
“Nate just took care of some business for me,” the vampire snarled, glaring at the offending Greek. Achilles burst out laughing, shaking his head as he helped the soldier to his feet. I continued searching, to make sure everyone was alright, but no one would meet my eyes. Instantly casting their gaze down at the ground rather than look at me.
“What gives?” I muttered under my breath, satisfied that everyone was more or less okay.
“Please…” a voice on the ground whispered in agony. I turned to see an Elder writhing in pain at my feet. “Merc—”
Achilles calmly lunged his spear into the Elder’s open mouth while softly answering me. “They just saw you ripped to shreds, emotionally. And the god thing,” he said, idly scratching his forearm before yanking his spear out. This casual, subtle motion almost made me vomit.
I saw Charon – the Boatman to the River Styx, in the Underworld – calmly paddling from body to body on the other side of the battlefield. He already had a full boat of dead souls, and despite drinking a can of cheap beer through his sewn-up lips – splashing it all over his face in the process – I heard pieces of a dirty limerick floating across the air from his direction. I nodded at him, and then turned away. He had a long night ahead of him.
“We need to gather up all the Grimm amulets,” I said absently, more reminding myself.
Alucard and Tory nodded, not meeting my eyes, and began to collect them.
I shook my head, wondering how Indie had done it. I had thought only Ichabod could wake a god, but perhaps with enough Grimms in the mix, she had been strong enough to get it done. Regardless, it didn’t really matter how anymore.
But since she wasn’t really a Maker, a Tiny God, had she succeeded? Had she woken one of the sleeping gods? If so, they would instantly find Ichabod – if he was still alive – and make him his or her tool. But more importantly, which god had she woken up?
A car pulled up, and the oddest assortment of people climbed out, carrying balloons and gifts wrapped in bright, shining paper. I stared at them, not comprehending the bright colors.
Van Helsing, Baba Yaga, and the Huntress. Baba’s creepy, hulking house followed behind her, a living creature that wore robes, had a giant bird skull for a head, and walked on chicken feet. It was both a house, and a creature, bigger on the inside than it seemed on the outside.
I blinked, suddenly very interested in comparing notes with her about sentient houses…
But they interrupted my thought as they began to sing in loud, unsynchronized tones. “Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday to—”
They stopped, dropping the gifts as they suddenly noticed the carnage. The dead bodies.
“What in the living fuck?” Van Helsing belted out, hands reaching for the crossbow on his back. The Huntress held two knives in her fists, eyes darting around wildly. Baba’s familiar lurked behind her as a green orb of power suddenly coalesced above the witch’s palms, illuminating her homely face.
Before anyone could answer, a Gateway ripped open a dozen feet away, and G Ma and Cindy jumped through, leaving behind a large group of other wizards I could see opening Gateways of their own. The Arch stood in the distance, and I saw quite a few fires.
“We did it! We stopped hi—” G Ma began.
“Holy shit balls,” Cindy blurted out, interrupting her, stunned at the number of bodies surrounding us. Which, again, was not a phrase I would have expected an older woman to use. The birthday party crowd had crept closer, and had their weapons trained on the two older women suddenly appearing out of a Gateway.
G Ma scanned the area. “Two Grimms did this?” she whispered, horrified.
But before I could answer, and rip Cindy to shreds for murdering Indie’s mother, a low, deep horn broke up our reunion, sounding as if it could have been heard across the world. I felt my skin tremble and my stomach quivered uneasily.
Achilles, Asterion, and the Myrmidons disappeared as if they had never been there, which startled the hell out of everyone, thinking they had just been taken out from under our noses by Indie or Ichabod.
The horn wailed one more time, and then all was silent.
The sky suddenly broiled with thunder and lightning, flickering red flashes behind almost-black clouds that had appeared out of nowhere, shifting and moving like stirred cotton candy.
I heard a glug, glug, glug sound behind me and turned to see Pan, now looking like Mallory, drinking straight from a bottle of Macallan. Everyone turned to him as he polished off the entire bottle, like that guy in Animal House. He let out a very loud burp behind a fist, and hurled the bottle at the tree where it shattered. He turned to meet my eyes. “The Greeks are going to war…”
Dean was running our way, panting as he held out Sir Muffle Paws as if to get rid of him.
This wasn’t the most bizarre thing I could have imagined right now.
But everyone else turned to watch, staring as Dean finally reached me, extending the cat in shaking arms. The cat was forty pounds, after all. “Master Temple, the cat—”
“Please do not refer to me as the cat,” Sir Muffle Paws corrected.
I shouted, jumping backwards, having been focusing on Dean, not the cat.
I stared as Dean set him down on the ground. Sir Muffle Paws climbed on top of a Grimm’s chest, right beside a very gory wound, and licked his paws a few times, preening. Then he began batting the amulet around the Grimm’s neck playfully for a few seconds. He instantly grew bored, and looked up at me, and the eyes I saw were not the same eyes I had ever seen in that filthy feline’s head. I remembered how he had sat on the book I had spelle
d, but it was a very distant thought now. Because he spoke.
“Idiots everywhere,” he chastised, eyes shining like liquid gold. “Did you need me to lay it all out for you, boy?”
“That cat can fucking talk,” Van Helsing stated dumbly.
I opened my mouth, but twin cawing sounds erupted from right above me. I threw my hands in the air, expecting an aerial assault, when two sets of claws hit my shoulders, biting into my flesh. They didn’t move, and I winced, slowly turning my head to see two ravens perched on my shoulders. They were staring up at the crackling sky.
“Ya done fucked up, kid,” one of the ravens said.
“The Allfather won’t like this,” the other replied from my opposite shoulder.
Everyone’s heads darted from one to the other like watching a ping pong match, faces incredulous, and mouths open.
“Not one bit,” the first one replied.
“Nevermore?” the second one asked, staring out at my friends.
“Too much,” the first raven replied.
Before I lost what little sanity I had remaining, I shook them from my shoulders, darting free from any talking animals, scowling at each of the three from a safe distance as the ravens settled on the ground beside Sir Muffle Paws, bowing politely to one another. The ravens were huge, if that mattered.
“Is anyone who or what they say they are?” I shouted, having reached my limit for surprises.
Everyone was silent for a few seconds.
“I am,” Van Helsing said softly. “I’m Van Helsing, and I came here for a surprise Birthday Party. With the girls. Right, Dean?”
I turned to Dean, who looked suddenly embarrassed. “I… planned it long ago. I lost track of time with all the…” he motioned at the ground. “Whatever this is,” he finally said, looking sick to his stomach. The Huntress and Baba murmured their agreement about a party and stated their names.
Instead of listening, and possibly murdering everyone out of sheer frustration, I reached into my pocket and grasped the coin.
“Dean, Pan. Get everyone inside. Feed them. Clothe them. Give them a room. Everyone needs to sleep here tonight. And they need to get anyone they care about behind my walls. Chateau Falco just became our castle.”
“Why do you say that like you won’t be here?” Gunnar growled anxiously, walking towards me as if to physically prevent me from leaving.
“Because I have something I need to do. Right now.” And I closed my eyes, Shadow Walking to a door inside Chateau Falco. The house rumbled in a low steady growl, not pausing to take a breath, so to speak.
I stood before the door to the Armory.
Pandora was Greek, and all the Greeks near the tree had disappeared.
The carving on the door in front of me still moved like normal. I let out a sigh of relief. I searched for the wolf, not seeing him at first. Then I spotted him, hiding behind the tree, shaking. He ducked out of sight, and since it was a two-dimensional carving, this prevented me from petting him.
From opening the door.
I pounded on it, but no one answered. “Shit.”
I stood in silence, terrified at the compounding nightmares building in my mind. The Greeks, with one of their gods and an Armory at their disposal. Had Death gotten my parents out in time?
Seeing no other option, I desperately gripped the coin in my pocket, closing my eyes as I pulled power through it. Wind whistled in my ears a moment later, and I opened my eyes.
I stood on a mountain that overlooked a burning St. Louis. A campfire crackled behind me.
I turned to find four cloaked creatures – much larger than normal men – sitting by the fire.
“Brothers,” I began in a low tone. “I might need your help…”
My black-feathered unicorn, Grimm, neighed, suddenly standing beside me, pawing the ground with a razor-sharp hoof, sparks of white light charring the earth.
The four hooded figures – wearing their horrifying Masks this time – leaned forward with hungry anticipation…
Nate Temple returns in Book 7 in September 2017…
MAKE A DIFFERENCE
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But I do have something much more powerful and effective than that, and it’s something that those publishers would kill to get their hands on.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, I would like to thank my beta-readers, TEAM TEMPLE, those individuals who spent hours of their time to read, and re-re-read Nate’s story. Your dark, twisted, cunning sense of humor makes me feel right at home… I also couldn’t have done this on time without Carol T’s incredible editing services.
I would also like to thank you, the reader. I hope you enjoyed reading TINY GODS as much as I enjoyed writing it. 2 more Nate Temple Novels, 3 Nate Temple Novellas, and 2 books in a new urban fantasy series are coming in 2017…
And last, but definitely not least, I thank my wife, Lexy. Without your support, none of this would have been possible.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Shayne is a man of mystery and power, whose power is exceeded only by his mystery…
He currently writes the Nate Temple Series, which features a foul-mouthed wizard with a chip on his shoulder trying to protect St. Louis from monsters, myths, and legends. Nate rides a bloodthirsty unicorn, drinks with Achilles, and is pals with Death.
Shayne holds two high-ranking black belts, and can be found writing in a coffee shop, cackling madly into his computer screen while pounding shots of espresso. He is hard at work on the seventh installment of the Nate Temple Series coming September 2017, and a new urban fantasy series for July 2017. Connect with him online for all sorts of groovy goodies:
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@shaynesilvers
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[email protected]
BOOKS BY SHAYNE SILVERS
NATE TEMPLE SUPERNATURAL THRILLER SERIES
OBSIDIAN SON
BLOOD DEBTS
FAIRY TALE - FREE for joining my Readers Group
GRIMM
SILVER TONGUE
BEAST MASTER
TINY GODS
UNTITLED #7 - COMING SEPT. 1, 2017…
NEW URBAN FANTASY/PARANORMAL SERIES WITH A FEMALE MAIN CHARACTER COMING JULY 2017…
Tiny Gods: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 6 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 35
