And I’d added a decoy coin alongside the authentic Horseman’s Mask coin.
Because ever since Mordred’s escape, I’d been terrified that someone would steal it away from me, absconding with my Horseman’s Mask. I’d found it to be a legitimate concern after testing the theory with Talon. If he yanked off the necklace, he would have the Mask in his paws.
As a result, I’d taken to spending a bit more time in learning how the Mask worked – on a very basic level. If I focused intently, I could make the coin appear in my pocket, even though Talon held the chain in his hand. I could now do this without any effort, imagining the coin wherever I wanted, and I didn’t even have to use magic to do it.
The problem with that being Talon could instantly see that his stolen necklace no longer held the coveted coin. Which would give away my advantage in a real-life scenario.
So, I’d added a decoy coin. This way, I could retrieve my Mask, and leave the bad guy thinking he had succeeded. A little bit of illusion magic, and I could make the authentic coin invisible for a few hours, leaving the decoy as the only visible coin on the necklace.
Of course, I could have taken to simply not openly wearing the coin. But… so many people knew of the coin, now. What it signified. Whenever I met someone new – or ran into an old friend, even – they would instinctively glance down in search of my necklace and be on their best behavior.
It solved a lot of conflicts before they could ever happen. Like walking around with a flaming sword on my back. And if they didn’t see me wearing it openly, they might search my pockets.
I jangled the necklace to Anubis, meeting his eyes. “Looks like I brought a little contraband with me,” I said politely.
Chapter 21
Anubis sniffed it absently, not getting too close. He knew what it was. “Tell me how you broke out. How you broke Mordred out. You shouldn’t have had the power to do either, let alone both. And I tested your power. It wasn’t enough. That is why I accepted you as the Guide, because you weren’t who I thought you were. Who I…” he paused, smiling wickedly in both disgust and amusement, “who I had hoped you were.”
I frowned at him. He was making it sound like he had done me a favor, but he had been a raging dick when I’d met him.
He had definitely acted shady when we first met, obviously hoping to find something in my satchel that would benefit him – which he hadn’t – and he’d even tried to give me a free trip to Hell without taking the long, grueling walk we had taken – by offering his Calaveras as a Lyft driver of sorts. I’d never learned his true motivations, or whether they would have been something harmful or helpful to me, but I’d assumed the latter since it had ended with him tossing me in a cell with a couple of Hell’s biggest assholes.
He had also spied on my meeting with my parents, depriving me of vital information, and forcing them to give me only very vague, cryptic insinuations – that the three items they had left me were vitally important to the world.
The Hand of God.
The War Hammer.
The Hourglass.
They said – and many agreed – that there was some world-ending war coming – the All War – and the three inherited items were incredibly important. As were three people: me, Talon, and Carl. And she’d sure made it sound like we were vital to Alex, that he had a major part to play in all of this. Or that he was vital to us.
But if Alex was so important, why did people keep calling me the Catalyst? In my current position, I didn’t really feel like asking Anubis for help. Instead, I considered his words, now.
And found myself frowning as a very vague suspicion emerged. “No way…” I breathed.
“There she is…” Anubis yawned. “Always late, but maybe worth the wait.”
“You… were conning me. Playing the long game? But… what was your angle? All you did was make everything harder. Worse,” I growled, having no idea how to fit his actions into a rational plan, and I was usually pretty good at that sort of thing. I was a schemer. A con-man, if I was being honest. I played people. Nowhere near as well as Callie Penrose did, but I was no slouch at it.
“You still don’t get it…” he sighed. “And I can’t afford to explain it. Or, to put it differently, if you have to ask, you can’t afford to know it.”
“I said that earlier…” I said, frowning accusingly.
“Gee, I wonder why I chose that phrase. Maybe because I’ve been following you. Weighing my options. Considering the infinite number of outcomes of this very discussion, the plethora of ripples that would roll across the universe. That you would come asking for another chance, and whether or not I wanted to double down on a lost cause. You owe me a debt. Owe me your very soul. I can find you anywhere. Anytime.”
And he flexed his fingers into a fist. My chest felt like I suddenly had no air, and that he was squeezing my inner organs, leaving my flesh and bones pain free. I instantly hunched over, gasping like a fish out of water.
Wylde, that inner part of my psyche began to scream in a way I had never heard before. Like a man being burned alive. Slowly.
“And I’ll get two souls for the price of one, which doesn’t aid your cause.” Then he released me by unflexing his fist. I sucked in a deep breath, not realizing I had fallen to my knees.
I took a moment to shake off the bruised feeling to my organs, regaining my composure. My choice was either to accept my new job in Hell or try to persuade Anubis to double-down on a two-time failure. I needed to carefully come clean with Anubis, whether I wanted to or not. I slowly climbed back to my feet and, sensing them both watching me, I let out a resigned breath. “Can we take a ride in the boat? I’ll tell you a story, but I’d like to get a taste of my future. Might motivate me to be… more open.”
Anubis grunted. “I hate standing still, so that’s fine. But know this. I don’t give two shits how motivated you are. I own your souls already. You better be very fucking convincing.”
I nodded uncertainly, turning my back on him to follow Charon, who had already climbed into the boat. He opened a battered tackle box, and I felt tendrils of cold air emanating from within. There was no ice, but I heard a faint, tortured wail from inside, making me shiver. He had some poor soul tucked inside…
To keep his beer cold.
Noticing the casual nature of both Charon and Anubis not even really registering the sound of agony, I took a measured breath. That was my future, here. Even knowing the soul probably deserved it for whatever he had done, I didn’t ever want to be armored by such callousness.
The Boatman snagged a couple cans and slammed the lid closed, cutting off the haunting lament. He held a can out to me with a smile, the gesture pulling the stitches covering his mouth tight. I managed not to wince and took it like a man dying of thirst. Anything cold would do in Hell. Charon pounded his in a blink, dumping half of it over his face like he was taking a pledge at a fraternity house, and then used his oar to shove the boat out into the waves of lava.
One drop splashed up onto me, scorching through my pants. I hissed in agony, desperately swatting at it to put it out before it ate through my flesh to the bone.
“Pour your beer on it,” Charon offered.
I didn’t even think about the ridiculousness of his suggestion, dumping my beer on the smoking wound. Anything to at least alleviate the pain would be welcome. As the ice-cold beer touched my skin, the pain instantly disappeared as if I had only imagined it. Even more surprising, I watched the wound wash away with the beer as if it had been no more than a smudge of dirt. I gasped in disbelief. There was no wound, and no burn mark. I still had a hole in my pants, but I watched as another droplet of lava slapped the damp, beer-soaked part of my pants. It puffed up with a little steam, but other than a slight pressure, I felt nothing. And my wet pants didn’t burn.
The healing beer also made me fireproof.
I desperately reached into the makeshift cooler and pulled out three cans, ignoring the desperate soul within. The cans were home-made, and Charon had
simply written not-beer on the face. I popped all three lids and took a light-beer shower like Charon had done, careful to cover my entire body. Doused, feeling safe, and noticeably better, I took another one out of the cooler to actually drink. Surprisingly, the cooler still held the same amount of… not-beer as when Charon had first opened it.
Charon noticed my surprised look and chuckled. “Freaking awesome job, right?” He saw me reading the label again and nodded. “Makes my passengers feel safer. They get squeamish about drinking and driving.”
I stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was kidding. “Sure, Charon. Sure…” I finally said, deciding that some things were just better left unasked. I gazed out at our surroundings curiously, no longer concerned with any splashing lava. Thankfully, I noticed that even when the beer dried off from the extreme heat, I was still immune to the lava. Kind of like Achilles being doused in the River Styx, and immune to all harm.
I jolted, glancing down at my can in disbelief. “Where… do you get this beer, Charon?”
He grunted, flicking on his trolling motor. “Oh, I brew it myself.”
I nodded woodenly. “You use the water from the River Styx, don’t you?”
He cocked his head like an owl. “How did you know?”
I chugged my beer in one pull. “Just a lucky fucking guess, Charon.” I was drinking beer made from the water that had essentially made Achilles immortal. Sweet Jesus. Instead of mentioning this, or trying to confirm it, I let it go. Whether the effects were permanent or not, it was keeping me alive just a little bit longer. Long enough to potentially persuade Anubis.
Now, it was time for my scheme, and to convince Anubis I was worth a third chance. I pointed absently to our right where I could see cliffs rising up in the distance. There were cliffs all around us, but these looked familiar. “Let’s go that way,” I suggested with a shrug. “Now, let me tell you how I broke out of Hel—”
“You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you? You’re used to being the smartest, richest, handsomest, strongest bastard in the brothel,” Anubis suddenly snarled, not bothering to turn around and face me. He stared ahead of us like a lookout.
Thinking on the accusation, I nodded. Honesty was needed. Games and trickery would not work. Anubis was all about honor, and probably a lot cleverer than me. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“Just know that most of us had to work for what we have. Entitlement will get you nowhere with me. I judge you on your actions, not the consequences and benefits of your parents’ decisions. If you want to drive by their worksite, just fucking ask. No more games, Temple.” This time, he actually glanced over his shoulder at me, and I saw his indigo eyes flickering with shadow. “Or my patience will expire.”
“I’m sorry. It’s a habit from up above,” I admitted. “Can we drive by my parents’ worksite?”
Anubis nodded, pointing the opposite direction from where I had intended. “They are that way. Not the same place you saw them before. I’ve heard all about your special memory and acted accordingly. I moved them to a new location. Depending on how this plays out, I might even let you talk to them again someday. But it better be a very good story. And a very honest story…” he slowly lifted a paw up in the air, still not bothering to look at me. Then he slowly began closing it into a fist in warning. A reminder.
“Okay!” I gasped before he could close it. “Got it. I’ll tell the truth. The truth as I know it, anyway. Because I don’t understand half of it myself.”
Charon appeared to be devoting all his attention to driving, but I could see by his body language that he was mentally recording every word and gesture. “Better start talking, Nate…” Anubis reminded me after a few seconds of silence.
I took a deep breath and scooped up another beer.
Chapter 22
After I’d told him everything, I waited patiently, studying the cliff to our right, scanning the mass of souls swinging pickaxes into the rock. Each swing really didn’t do much, maybe producing a few pebbles. So, either the rock was unbelievably tough, the pickaxes were dull or blunt, or this was Hell, and Anubis was just screwing with them. Like giving them plastic knives to cut down trees.
Like he was screwing with me now by not commenting on my story.
“Break!” a crystalline voice called out, and I was suddenly lurching to my feet in the boat.
I knew that voice. I opened my mouth to shout out my mother’s name.
“Speak, and we’re finished here,” Anubis murmured. Even though he said it under his breath, the force of the command was enough for my words to die in my mouth.
Instead, I silently scanned the crowd, trying to find her. I finally found her seated on a palanquin with my father at her side. They were…
Eating pomegranate seeds.
The army of souls dropped their pickaxes and began to sing, locking hands to dance and frolic about in the break in work my mother had called out. Everyone looked… deceptively happy.
I frowned at Anubis, who was watching me, now. “What kind of sick joke is this?”
Anubis’ lips pulled back in a mildly annoyed smile as he surveyed his souls. “Your parents were promoted.”
I blinked at him. “You promoted them?”
Anubis sighed. “Actually, no. They uncovered a plot against me from their previous taskmaster.” He shook his head absently. “Since then, they have saved me considerable time and resources. Their team produces more with less effort and punishment than any other team.”
I just stared at him for a few moments, dumbfounded. My parents had introduced… what, capitalism? In Hell? “And what exactly are they producing? I didn’t realize you had any trade partners down here.”
He slowly met my eyes, and I found myself sitting back down under those merciless eyes, like staring into two black holes. “You really, really don’t want me to answer that.” He continued staring at me for a few more tense moments, then added, “Yet.”
I nodded slowly, not entirely sure what I was nodding to, or why I might someday need to know what they mined in Hell. Or who it was sold to. I was entirely sure that I wouldn’t like the answer, or that the knowledge might cost me a bit of my naivety.
“Thank you,” I told him, turning to watch my parents still feeding one another. My father abruptly popped a pomegranate seed into his own mouth, and then flipped my mother onto her back to tickle her. I silently begged them to look our way, just one time, but they didn’t.
I felt a few tears trailing down my cheeks as her laughter echoed above all other sounds in the caverns of Hell, even the singing voices of their crew, the gentle hum of Charon’s trolling motor, the fiery splash of lava against the boat…
Then my father ceased his attack, stared down at her, and gave her a very slow kiss.
I shuddered, my heart dropping into my stomach, and stared down at my boots.
I wasn’t sure if I was sad that it wasn’t happening up on Earth at Chateau Falco, happy that they had found at least some tiny sliver of joy in this fiery world, anger at Anubis for punishing two wizards who had walked the world with the best of intentions, even if they often hadn’t anticipated the consequences, or honored that he had allowed them to wield a position of power.
Or maybe it was a combination of it all. Seeing them briefly loving the hell out of each other with abandon – harboring no concern or fear. Turning their dull existence into a corporate retreat.
When I lifted my gaze, Anubis was watching me. He nodded his head infinitesimally.
“Your story… I have a few questions, but primarily, what were you thinking, unleashing an unbound Beast into the world?” he demanded, face entirely serious.
I grunted. “It was an accident. How was I supposed to know Kai would – or even could – knock up my house and bring a baby into the picture?” I snapped, shaking my head.
Because that was exactly what had happened, and the only reason I had been able to escape Hell was because that Baby Beast had come to save me, knowing only that his moth
er was concerned about a man wearing the Temple Family Crest. On Earth, B had followed my friends in search of the Crest, in search of the man who wore it, thinking it was his father. I studied the brand on my palm thoughtfully. Somehow, I’d been privy to B’s visions anytime I fell asleep, dreaming what he saw. I’d watched – not knowing it was live footage rather than a trippy dream – as he’d traipsed through Hell, all alone, scared to death, but more concerned with protecting his daddy.
Well, the man he thought was his daddy.
Me.
Because my palm was branded with the Temple Family Crest.
Anubis leaned forward, inspecting the brand on my palm. Then he grunted, leaning back. “Brave little shit,” he said, shaking his head.
I smiled. “Yeah. He thought I was his dad…”
Anubis shifted on his seat uncomfortably, eyes considering the satchel by my feet. “Show me how it works. I did sense that your purse could hold more than it should, but I didn’t realize it could hide things.” I gritted my teeth, preventing myself from correcting him.
It was a satchel, damn it.
I’d kept some things out of my story to Anubis. Not to lie, but because it literally had nothing to do with him, and I didn’t exactly know where he stood on the whole good-guy-bad-guy spectrum. He sure seemed like an honorable guy, and a potential ally, but that didn’t mean our motives would align. I hadn’t told him about the three special items my parents had left me.
I held the satchel out to him. “Reach inside and grab my staff.”
His face grew darker. “Really, Nate?” he asked in a low growl.
I sighed. “Slip of the tongue. Just try,” I told him.
He did, reaching in up to his elbow, but after a few moments, pulled his arm back out without the prized staff. “No staff.”
I nodded, reaching inside to pull out my long, black spear.
Anubis hit me like a linebacker, slamming me right into Charon, sending him cartwheeling off the boat and into the lava, his beer splashing all over my face. Anubis towered over me, blocking much of my view, but held me pinned to the floor of the boat by my throat with one paw. I’d dropped the spear to the floor of the boat, and there was no way I could reach it before he simply crushed my jugular. I saw him snatch up my satchel and fling his paw out over the lava, tossing it overboard. He was snarling down at me.
Horseman: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 10 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 12
