Even though it had been over a year for us, in our world, Alex was likely remembering Indie and Ichabod from only weeks ago. After all, we had seen one night and one day, and had returned to find almost two months had passed. In a way, maybe it was good that Alex’s parents were gone. They had likely lost their son years ago, and suddenly having him returned to them, maybe a few months older than when they had lost him… several years ago, could have given them a heart attack, or short-circuited their brains.
Ichabod finally spoke up. “I had no choice. It was the price for our escape. The only way to leave. To use Indie as a blade against a mutual enemy…” he said, almost whispering. “I thought with Indie in agreement, that you would follow, too, Nate. Help me defeat them. But then I saw you had changed, when we went to the Circus. And after that…” he shrugged heavily, looking beaten down, on his last legs.
“How could you possibly justify breaking someone’s very soul,” I pointed at Indie, “to get what you want?” I asked Ichabod, astonished.
“She was such a passionate person, independent. I thought if anyone could survive unscathed, it would be her. But, that passion ended up being her weakness. They fed that passion, fueling her with hatred rather than love. Using her strength against her. No one anticipated this,” he held up a hand at the current war. “Not even the Fae anticipated this. They just wanted vengeance for the death of their Changeling. I just wanted revenge against the Syndicate for taking my father.”
I glanced at the phone, seeing Indie’s mother squinting at us, as if trying to make out something that wasn’t clear.
“And her? Indie thinking her dead?”
Ichabod stared at his boots, avoiding Indie’s stunned glare. “She needed a last… nudge. A final reason to commit to the cause. That nudge was what allowed me to leave that cursed world. It was the price of my freedom.”
“Nudge? You call that a n—”
“It is you!” Mrs. Rippley suddenly shrieked. I turned to see her pointing at… Ichabod. “You… told me I had to go into hiding. That I was in danger. That I couldn’t talk to anyone. And you gave me a bag of money so I could quit my job! I loved that job! Nate! I am buying a ticket to St. Louis right this instant! You, Indie, and that man are going to have words. Get that sensible woman, Greta, is it? Yes, Greta. She seems the only intelligent person down there in that lawless state.”
“I think we’ve got it, Mrs. Rippley. You’ll be contacted in the morning by a friend. She will help set everything right.” I motioned for Yahn to hang up as she began to yell back at me, pressing her face against the phone as if she could stop the call from hanging up.
I stared at Ichabod, shaking my head. Indie was muttering to herself, likely doubting her every decision. That didn’t mean she had changed. In fact, it could mean that she was beyond rational, and would be even worse, now. But I had meant what I said. I had a problem killing an ignorant person. They needed to know why they were meeting death. Otherwise, it was murder.
Ichabod had taken Indie to the Fae, to strengthen her. But she had become a monster instead. And rather than fixing it, Ichabod had used it. Fed that monster for his own personal vendetta. He had partnered with the Fae to use Indie to kill the Syndicate.
When I later refused to join up with her on her quest, it had pushed her over the edge. I didn’t feel sorry for her. Not really. Although it was a terrible story.
Because I had managed to control my beast. And I had helped my friends do the same. And even if I had felt as vengeful as her while over there, I had never crossed those kinds of lines, done such horrible things, to attain my goal. Sure, I would have done truly terrible things to obtain a just goal, but I never would have intentionally harmed the innocent. Because the ends rarely justified the means. Typically, that line of reasoning resulted in exactly this.
For example, I never could have taken out my aggression on an innocent to find my parents’ killer. Someone like Alex, who had been the unluckiest son of a— my train of thought evaporated as I noticed him. No one else had. He was reaching into his pocket, and… well, stroking himself. Very enthusiastically.
I heard a few coughs behind me from my people, because he was giving us a show. But none of the Greeks had noticed yet.
Indie noticed the sounds, assuming they were chuckling at her, but she saw that they weren’t watching her at all. Her eyes latched onto Alex, and suddenly darted forward, trying to grab him with her missing hand. He evaded, laughing, and kept right on stroking. Indie snatched him up with her existing hand, cursing. She yanked his hand out of his pocket to find him clutching a white feather.
She began to laugh. “Naughty boy. You stole a feather from Pegasus? Now we’re all doomed.” She said, letting go of him, pretending to be scared. Alex jumped, snatching the feather from her hand. She rounded on him. “It won’t do you any good, boy. No matter what you’ve heard. Stolen feathers don’t work. Only a feather freely given can—”
Out of nowhere, Pegasus slammed into Indie, knocking her right into Hercules where she crumpled. He shifted slightly on impact, but didn’t stumble. He looked just as stunned as everyone else.
The rest of us watched as Pegasus scooped up the boy and launched into the sky. He flew straight over my protective walls, and dropped down somewhere near the mansion. The remaining Guardians on the wall watched absently before turning stony glares back to the Greeks.
Indie climbed to her feet. “Kill them. All,” she spat, eyes solid black.
Hercules suddenly brandished his club. “With pleasure…”
“Game on,” I said to myself as I turned away. I had a smile on my face as I began to jog, the Huntress sliding up next to me.
“Did you notice it, too?” she asked excitedly.
I grinned at her. “Sure did. That sneaky little bastard. I wonder where he learned that?”
She scoffed. “He better have a shiny new bow for me, or I’ll have his ears.”
I told her a few other things, and they weren’t as lighthearted, as we sought Alex out.
Chapter 56
We found Pegasus grazing near the labyrinth, Carl standing guard beside Alex, like the lizard men that secretly kept the President of the United States safe.
Alex clutched two items in his hands, although I couldn’t be sure what one of them was from this distance, the other was obvious.
“A bow!” the Huntress hooted. Then, “Alex, you clever little bastard!”
I called out to Grimm, my unicorn, and he was suddenly standing some distance from Pegasus, announced by a great peal of black lightning that was instantly joined by a distant boom. He stood staring at his brother, stamped a hoof, and snorted tiny puffs of smoke from his nostrils. Pegasus dipped his head, bending a knee.
Grimm approached warily, and the two legendary horses walked away, leaning towards each other, speaking in low tones.
I felt Grimm speak to me one last time. The boy and Pegasus are bonded. No treachery to worry about. He never bonded the other one, who was, apparently, a giant asshole. I smiled in relief. The kid had a pony.
We reached Alex, who was holding out the bow. The Huntress – after the briefest flicker of hesitation – smacked the bow out of his hand and picked him up, spinning him around in a circle, laughing. “Clever, clever, clever little bastard!” she shrieked in delight.
I watched, smiling. I had never seen her so happy. Not in the archery department at a hunting store, and not even near Tory. But around Tory she just looked hungry. I’d probably be alarmed if she looked at Alex like that. But I was betting Tory knew how to sate the Huntress’ hunger.
She finally set him down, mussed his hair, and then with shaking fingers, picked up the bow, inspecting it. The wood was exquisite. Black, not as if painted, but as if made from genuine black yew. Intricate carvings etched the surface with designs of horses, flight, and conquest, and the string was as white as snow, almost seeming to glow. Either it was a fresh string, or the hair used to make it was immune to dirt. Looking closer, it alm
ost looked too thin to draw. As if the string would snap. Like a fishing line.
Bellerophon’s bow.
The Huntress tested it, and grunted in disbelief, almost falling over. Not from a lack of effort, but from using too much effort. She blinked down at it, confused, and then tried again, this time barely pulling the string.
The string drew back as effortlessly as if she was breaking a cobweb, but I saw the wood of the bow itself quivering, as if the wood was holding all the tension, rather than the Huntress or the string. It looked like Alex could draw the thing himself and shoot just as far as Hercules.
“This is the finest bow I have ever seen,” she whispered, staring down at it.
Alex beamed proudly.
I stepped in. “Kid, that was remarkable. You used your head, played your hand, and made them see only an angry and scared child.” I pointed at his pocket. “Did Pandora give you that?” He nodded, smirking guiltily.
“I tucked it away in my sock.” he said. I shook my head in wonder, silently thanking her. Pandora had gifted Alex a freely-given feather from Pegasus from, oh, likely thousands of years ago. It acted exactly like the feather I had for Grimm. An emergency pager, of sorts. Use it, and the horse would appear.
After a few uses, the feather was no longer needed, because you would likely be friends by then, able to call him at will. Bonded. At least that was how Grimm and I had progressed. But remembering Alex going to town on himself in front of everyone, I realized that Pandora probably should have told him how to use it. He could have simply touched it and thought Pegasus, come to me.
But what he had done had been so much better.
“Did they not search you?” I asked, shaking my head. Anyone should have found it, and instantly feared what it meant. Even Indie.
“Achilles searched me, even patted me down from head to toe and emptied my pockets, but he didn’t find it.”
“And is that what I think it is?” I asked, trying not to rub my hands together greedily.
He held out a pyramid shaped stone in his hands. “Thought you might want it. She obviously cared about it, keeping it tied to her hip like that. Wanted to at least piss her off.”
He handed it over to me. I took it, staring down at it. The Hand of God. The artifact Indie had used to wake up her goddess. The artifact that possibly still linked the two of them together, judging by how close Indie had remained to it. Never letting it out of her sight.
Quick, continuous peals of horns pierced the morning light, and the low drone of shouting voices filled the air. The War had resumed. I needed a better vantage.
“Huntress, Carl, keep him safe. Even if that means entering Chateau Falco and hiding.” I turned to Alex. “I can guarantee that if you’re seen on the battlefield, that even though you’re no longer a bargaining chip, you’ll be a high-value target. For stealing Pegasus and pissing off Indie.”
Alex looked suddenly ashamed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t m—”
“Alex,” I said, gripping his shoulders as I leaned down. “That was a compliment. If you haven’t pissed anyone off by ten in the morning, you’re doing something wrong with your life.”
The Huntress groaned, and tugged Alex away from my grasp. “Come along, Carl. Master Temple is a terrible influence. In fact, I should tell you about the time we went to the bank together…” We locked eyes for a moment, and I nodded sadly at the boy. She didn’t miss a beat, nodding back. She would tell him about his parents, having heard about it herself right after the fiasco at the gates as we were walking up here.
Carl looked very interested as she continued her story, walking towards Chateau Falco.
I stared out at the war in the distance, which looked like a crazy mosh pit.
But I felt Wylde directing me to specific points, showing them to me in a new light.
The distant formations took on new patterns, and I saw that it was indeed a masterpiece of planning, even though hastily thrown together.
I had picked well with Ashley.
The rest was up to her and her soldiers.
Taking a deep breath, I hefted the stone in my hand, remembering where I had seen one just like it. On the statue marking my mother’s tomb in the Temple Mausoleum. She had been holding a pyramid-shaped stone just like this one.
I didn’t have time to think about what that could mean, so instead masked the stone with magic, tied it to my belt, and began to jog until fog slowly drifted up around me, taking me to the place I was meant to be.
I still had to take out Indie and Ichabod, but I had a more pressing concern.
A few minutes after jogging through the impenetrable fog, I returned to the marble pavilion. Blue sky surrounded me, and the air felt thin. I saw the familiar table, and the same woman seated behind it. This time there were two goblets, and when she turned to face me, she didn’t look surprised.
“Nathin Laurent Temple,” she mused. “Godkillers sure are small these days,” she chuckled.
An owl fluttered onto the balcony near her table. A great big gray one with a razor-sharp beak, easily three times as large as was naturally possible. Purple feathers mixed with the gray, looking like a parrot had knocked up an owl one night near a certain wizarding school.
It was the owl that finally convinced me.
“Athena,” I said neutrally, not dipping my head. For some reason, I wasn’t surprised to find out it was her. “You look positively… domestic.” She was tall and slender, with blonde hair currently tied back in two plaits down her back. She wore a flowing white toga that was very loose in the front, giving me an Olympian view of Elysium. But I was made of stronger stuff. Godly teats could not sway me.
Athena was considered the Goddess of War, Wisdom, Courage, and a bunch of other things, so I chose my words carefully. Carefully crafted to infuriate her.
Like domestic. Not typically attributed to war.
Her lips thinned, but she tapped the stool beside her. “Come, sit. I desire a brief chat before I throw you back down to earth again.”
“How considerate. Make mine a double. And make it snappy. I want to finish it before your corpse starts to stink, what with all that ichor I’m going to splash on this shining marble floor you just finished cleaning for me,” I said, glancing down, ignoring her warning growl.
Then I sauntered up to the table, crossed my legs, and began to drink. This was going to be… interesting.
Chapter 57
She watched me for a time, analyzing me, I guessed. Maybe she sensed the Hand of God that was attached to my hip, even though it was invisible. She was a goddess, it wouldn’t have surprised me if that was a gift of hers. But it didn’t really matter if she knew about it.
I relaxed my shoulders, making myself look bored, content, and peacefully sleepy. Not concerned one iota about sitting next to Athena. As I did this, I drew heavily on Wylde, letting him aid my posture in the same way he would have faced, well, Oberon, for example. How to face an enemy, a powerful one, while displaying a hint of confident arrogance, as if waiting for the right moment to flip over your winning card in a game of poker.
It felt seamless to me as Wylde subtly changed nuances in my demeanor. My face grew more relaxed, and I even crossed my legs as I yawned.
Athena sensed this – not my actual actions – but that something much more important had happened beneath the theatrics. And her eyes grew cold, wary. She didn’t speak, but I could feel the hatred and unease radiating from her.
“No grapes? Or olives?” I grunted, sipping my wine.
She sniffed. “Gods do not need these things.”
“But you need wine?”
Her lips thinned. “No. I enjoy wine.”
“Right. Well, can we get cracking? I’ve got a few other things to take care of today.”
She pointed her chin at the railing, and since the table was close to the marble balustrade, I leaned over, staring down. A blanket of clouds hovered hundreds of feet below us, and as I leaned a little further, I realized nothing was supporti
ng our marble pavilion, other than more clouds. I opened my mouth to ask what I should be looking for, because I didn’t think the lack of support had been what she was referring to, but as I did, the clouds began to swirl, making a hole in the blanket.
And I saw the war. All of it. As if I was directly above it, close enough to shout down at them. Even though I had walked for quite some time, and was obviously very high above the clouds. It made sense though. Why have your home so far above the mortal world that you couldn’t see what was going on with your children.
So.
It was magic of some kind. As I shifted my gaze, the view of the war shifted, so that I could see any particular section with ease, not having to move my head, just my intent. The land obeyed my command. I tested this out, getting a quick layout of the war, per Wylde’s guidance, and leaned back, satisfied.
“As I thought it would turn out,” I said, happy to see my friends holding and even shattering some of the front lines.
“Such fun, isn’t it? Like toy soldiers…” she purred, sipping her wine.
“Except they aren’t toys. They’re living creatures.”
“Ah. Quite right.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Semantics.”
Wylde had to force me to sit rather than jumping to my feet to grab her owl and beat her over the head with it like a rubber chicken.
“Everyone is watching this,” she said distantly, not noticing or caring about my struggle.
I frowned, and then glanced around the pavilion. And my heart stopped. She was right. We weren’t alone. I was sure we had been moments ago, or had I just missed the obvious?
A man stood leaning against a column, face concealed by a shadow, idly flipping a coin into the air and catching it. Like a metronome. I saw one of the reflections in his eyes disappear for a millisecond, and then reappear. A wink? Then his body suddenly blurred. He didn’t move, but he looked to be… vibrating so rapidly that I couldn’t get a clear view. Other than that one wink.
Wild Side: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 7 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 32
