Ascension: Nate Temple Series Book 13

by Shayne Silvers

  I forced myself not to laugh out loud as I turned back to the tree.

  “I like it here,” Gunnar finally said, smiling brightly as he absently stroked his beard. “It’s peaceful. Tranquil—” He suddenly jerked his attention upwards, gesturing adamantly with one finger to indicate a spot higher up the tree, making him look like a dog on point. “SQUIRREL!”

  I had flinched at his sudden shout, but I quickly masked my reaction by following his gaze up the tree. My jaw fell open and I instinctively clenched my fists, ready for a fight.

  Chapter 19

  Gunnar’s observation skills were uncanny. A fucking red squirrel the size of a freaking SUV stared down at us with his chin resting in one of his large paws. His other paw was absently gouging out strips of bark from the World Tree in a bored, defiant gesture, but he was resting horizontal on his stomach, obscuring the rest of his body behind the tree trunk. He had tall, pointed ears, with long red fur sprouting from the tips like tufts of grass.

  What I could see of him was covered in more of the same long, sleek, red fur, and it flowed out around his paws like a Clydesdale’s hooves. His velociraptor-like claws were easily strong enough to support his massive bulk. He stared at me with eyes as black as the deepest, loneliest corner of the universe—a place where all suns had died. His long, stained front teeth were etched with golden runes that glowed, and they looked tough enough to bite through steel. He was easily the size of a luxury sedan or small SUV, and it was pretty damned obvious who he was.

  Ratatoskr—the squirrel who ran up and down the World Tree, delivering messages between a wise, unnamed eagle at the top, and the serpent Níðhöggr at the bottom. Except Ratatoskr was known as a troublemaker, and usually modified the messages into harsh insults, fueling animosity between the two. He was the original gossip artist or tabloid reporter of the Norse pantheon.

  “Who is the primordial pap smear?” he asked in a bored, almost lazy drawl that reminded me of Scar from Lion King. He looked directly at me as he asked it.

  He didn’t actually have a British accent, but the way he enunciated his words made him sound like he did. It reminded me of the stereotypical British nobility who were often depicted as posh, snooty, elitists—capable of silencing their foes with condescending inflections and a rapier wit that sliced so deep and fast that the combination often left their verbal opponents bleeding out before they knew they had even been cut by the linguistical ninjas.

  It was a talent as powerful as magic, and I envied those who wielded it. Ratatoskr had apparently mastered it long before humans.

  He had just called me a primordial pap smear, and it was a clever enough insult that I couldn’t even be that offended. In the grand scheme of things, he wasn’t necessarily wrong. I memorized the line instead.

  Also, he looked naturally equipped to murder all of us as easily as a squirrel could bust a nut.

  Well, you know what I mean.

  I glanced back at Gunnar, not even bothering to point out the dog versus squirrel eternal rivalry. “Ratatoskr is not a fucking squirrel, man,” I began. “Well, he is, but—”

  “The bacterium has evolved enough to speak,” Ratatoskr mused, shifting his bulk as if preparing to pounce.

  Gunnar turned to Odin, squaring his shoulders. “Mine. Ratatoskr is mine.”

  I slowly turned to stare at him. “He’s not a soda. You can’t just have him.” I turned to Odin. “Can he?”

  “Of course he can’t!” Odin snapped, looking bewildered. “What the hell is wrong with you people?”

  “Yeah, Gunnar. What the hell?” I demanded, folding my arms.

  But Gunnar was no longer looking at us. He snarled as he took an aggressive step forward, and then he snapped a bone bracelet off his wrist. It instantly shifted into his Horseman’s Mask, and he slapped it on his face without warning anyone. His forearms erupted with long, white fur as diamond claws sprouted from his fingertips, and I realized I was holding my breath, wondering if he would finally reveal his true Horseman of Justice form.

  I waited a moment longer, and let out my breath in disappointment. Just his Alpha werewolf form, but wearing a golden Mask that seemed to be made of quartz, glittering with thousands of facets. It had taken me several times before I fully adopted my own Horseman form.

  He pointed a claw at Ratatoskr. “MINE!”

  Ratatoskr launched himself from the tree, landing before Gunnar in an explosion of soil and gravel. Golden runes were branded into his fur, and they seemed to glow with power. His tail was a massive club as long as his body, doubling his size. And instead of typical fur, the hair on his tail looked more like bone spines. He flicked his tail into the air and slapped it down on the ground three times in rapid succession, flattening the earth around him, sending shrapnel to ricochet off Gunnar’s Mask and…

  The Horseman of Justice didn’t move a millimeter. The squirrel lunged at him, snapping his long yellow teeth at Gunnar’s face, a hair’s width away from contact…

  And still, Gunnar did not flinch. “Mine,” he snarled in a lower, more primal growl.

  He slowly lifted his claws, extending them towards Ratatoskr’s face.

  Ratatoskr snarled, his curled claws digging into the earth as if he was trying everything in his power to pull away, but finding himself unable to retreat. Then, inch-by-inch, the great squirrel began to kneel, hunkering lower and lower until he was crouched down before Gunnar, and he let out a long, shuddering breath.

  I shook my head in disbelief, feeling more confused than ever. Gunnar—the Horseman of Justice—had just picked his figurative horse. Damn it all.

  “A fucking squirrel!” I snapped, throwing my hands into the air. “No one is ever going to take Team Temple seriously with this kind of shit happening left and right.” I altered my voice into a high, frightened pitch. “Oh, no! Here comes the New Horsemen! Hope rides on his unicorn. And wait! He rides alongside the Horseman of Justice on his squirrel of death! Don’t worry, the other two Horsemen are coming, but one is passed out drunk and the other is at church with a skeleton and a ninja.” I kicked at a rock on the ground, sending it flying into the trunk of the World Tree. “I can’t wait to see what Alucard and Callie pick.”

  Gunnar studied Ratatoskr thoughtfully, completely ignoring me. “It is an honor to earn your respect.”

  Ratatoskr rose, climbing to his full height. He studied Gunnar thoughtfully. “I…believe we are going to cause a lot of trouble, Horseman.” He appraised Gunnar, his black eyes seeming to see through the Horseman. “Justice,” he mused, sounding anticipatory. “That pleases me immensely,” he said, curling his lips back to brandish the true length of his fangs. “I have work to do here, but speak my name and I will answer the call—as long as there are things to eradicate, of course. I will honor this duty. Thor is dead and Fenrir is loose. Ragnarök looms, and my home will soon be dust in the wind. I think you may have just saved my life, Horseman. Thank you for choosing me.”

  Gunnar nodded, peeling off his Mask. It snapped back into a bracelet and he clipped it back onto his wrist, turning to look at me. He clasped his hands behind his back and nodded proudly. “So cool.” Ratatoskr slammed his club tail into the ground, nodding his agreement.

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten, breathing slowly. I finally opened them, and turned back to Odin. “I think we’re done here.”

  Odin turned from studying Ratatoskr to frown at me. “I thought you wanted to see one of the Wells,” he said, looking as if he didn’t have any idea what to do about this recent development.

  I shrugged. “I just walk into one of those holes, right?” I asked, pointing.

  He thought about it and finally shrugged. “Well, yes…but that sounds ridiculous when you put it like that.”

  I shrugged. “Good enough for me.” And I turned away, walking back towards the gossamer curtain leading home.

  “Wait! What was the point of all of this? It couldn’t be to acquire Ratatoskr. He just happened to come down at the right moment.”


  I glanced over my shoulder. “I, myself, don’t believe in coincidences,” I said mysteriously, enjoying the darkening shade his face was turning. “And I just needed you to take me here, to Yggdrasil. I can find the Wells later.”

  He went entirely still. “What do you mean, later?”

  “Once I visit a place, I can Shadow Walk there at a later time of my choosing.” And I winked at him. “Thanks.”

  “Oh, shit!” Ratatoskr crowed. “The Horseman wizard played you, Allfather!” He turned to study me excitedly. “This new job is going to be way more fun.”

  I grunted, amused by his enthusiasm. “Don’t get too excited. He’s the boring one,” I said, pointing a thumb at Gunnar.

  Gunnar frowned. “I am wild when I want to be,” he muttered defensively.

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” I reassured him. “You’re a raving lunatic on the battlefield, but you’re not as crazy as me.”

  Gunnar arched a brow. “You realize how stupid that sounds, right? I just need to make sure you understand how you come across to other people.”

  Ratatoskr watched us with an amused expression. “You’re bloodthirsty, eh?” He turned to me. “You sure you don’t need a mount?” he asked. Gunnar glared at him.

  I shook my head. “I ride a unicorn. Well, an Alicorn, technically.”

  Ratatoskr grew unnaturally still, his tail suddenly standing straight up. “Just to clarify,” he said, sounding uneasy. “What’s your unicorn’s name?”

  I faced him fully, trying to translate the strange look on his squirrelly face. I hadn’t ever really studied a squirrel’s face before. You could take anyone in the world and show them a picture of a squirrel and then ask them what it was, and they would probably all get it right. But if you took an equal number of people and asked them to describe a squirrel to you—or better yet, draw one—you’d get a bushy-tailed pigeon, rat, cat, and probably any other number of land-based mammals.

  None of them would resemble a squirrel.

  So staring at Ratatoskr, a talking, violent, mischievous, legendary, monster squirrel…was unsettling.

  “Grimm,” I finally told him.

  He hopped back a step, slamming his tail into the ground hard enough for me to feel it in my toes. “Sweet Idunn’s tits!” he cursed incredulously.

  Freya squawked indignantly. “RATATOSKR!” Alice was hiding behind her, poking her head out to stare at the squirrel with wide eyes.

  He wilted instinctively at her mom voice, but he wasn’t deterred. “Grimm is still around? I thought he was banished to the—”

  Odin cut him off with a violent gesture. Surprisingly, Ratatoskr obeyed, even flinching involuntarily. Then he simply leapt up into the tree and began scrambling away as fast as he could move, his bushy, spiny tail hammering into the bark hard enough to rain down white twigs and small branches. “Fuck this damned tree. Fuck this nerdy eagle. Fuck this gothic serpent. I get to hang out with Grimm again!” he chittered excitedly, his voice trailing off as he disappeared up into the apparition-like portion of the World Tree, seeming to become ephemeral himself.

  Gunnar joined me after a final wave at Ratatoskr—who had forgotten all about Gunnar.

  I shared a long look with him, wondering what the squirrel had been about to say regarding Grimm and his supposed banishment. How the hell did Ratatoskr know Grimm? Did terrifying monsters have a weekly poker game or something?

  I was about to step through the curtain when Odin called out. “Wait!”

  I hesitated, debating whether or not I should make him follow me, but I decided I’d put the old man through enough hell for one day. “Yeah?”

  “What deal did you make with Anubis?” Odin asked carefully. “When you were fighting Mordred. You were on the ropes, boy. At the end, even I thought you had already lost. Then you were suddenly back.”

  I turned to look at him, studying his face thoughtfully. “Temples don’t fall. We just stumble,” I told him, quoting my dad.

  He grunted. “Every Temple falls. Eventually.”

  I narrowed my eyes dangerously. “That a threat, old one?”

  “It’s a fact, you hot-headed fool.” He pointed at the crest branded into my palm. “Why do you think they keep building new ones?” I knew he was referring both to my last name and the construction of a temple, but I wasn’t that impressed. I’d heard much better double entendres.

  “Maybe they were just waiting to build the best one. The design for the Sistine Chapel took years to master. Millennia, technically, if you look at it from a human existence perspective.”

  “You think you are the Sistine Chapel, boy?” Odin snapped.

  I shrugged. “I think I’m what comes after the Sistine Chapel,” I admitted, biting back a grin.

  “You can’t possibly be that arrogant.”

  “Watch me be this arrogant,” I said dryly.

  He cursed. “Your father fell. His father fell. All fathers fall down eventually. No matter how glorious we are in life, we all enter our crypts the same way at the sunset of our lives. Very few ever leave.”

  I was already walking away, stepping through the curtain.

  “Where are you going now, boy?” Odin demanded.

  I didn’t turn around this time. “I’m going to go eat some applesauce and drink some beer. Then, I’ll probably go kill the Academy.”

  Gunnar missed a step, but recovered it well.

  Chapter 20

  So far, my plan was moving along nicely. I had visited—and caused a noticeable ruckus in—a broad swath of locations in a relatively short period of time, leaving behind a confusing trail for gossip. And that wasn’t even counting the blatant lies and rumors I had started about my recent activities and sightings all across the globe. I still had more to do, but I was pleased with myself.

  And sitting at the bar with a drink in hand, I couldn’t help but feel like an international man of mystery.

  I could only hope that Loki was holding up his end of the bargain.

  After visiting Yggdrasil, Gunnar had driven me and an extremely grumpy and hungover Alucard to Achilles’ Heel to see if we could catch the tail-end of their poker game. We’d missed it by an hour but had arrived in time to find a few stragglers hanging around and shooting the shit over beers.

  We found War, Death, Shiva, and Achilles sitting around a table, drinking, when we arrived. Alucard had promptly laid his head down on the table, preferring nap time to nightcaps.

  We’d been casually catching up with Death and War for the last twenty minutes, hearing about their recent travels—a forced vacation since being near me had almost killed them. Now that I’d named the rest of my band of Horsemen, they’d finally been able to return to town.

  Well, Famine and Conquest were away on business of some kind, but War and Death had been eager to see Gunnar and Alucard—to congratulate them on their new part-time jobs.

  Which, thankfully, had left little room for me to talk about anything. Until the nosy bartender had asked me to come help him grab refills for the table.

  Achilles popped the tops off a few bottles of beer, setting them down on the tray as he counted under his breath, his eyes briefly flicking over to the loud table behind me and back again. “What have you really been up to lately, lizard?” He finally asked, not looking up.

  I arched a brow. “I am a wizard, ignorant barkeep. The W stands for winner—an L is for loser.”

  Achilles snorted at me. “Alright, wiener-lizard.”

  “Winner,” I corrected him. “I didn’t ask about your depraved fetishes for male reptiles.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re friends with an ancient reptilian race that the rest of the supernatural community is terrified of. You are now a lizard. Like those conspiracy nuts talking about lizard men really running our country from behind the scenes. Hell, maybe they are referring to Elders, too.”

  I rolled my eyes, deciding it was better to just answer his question. “I saw Cain earlier. You ever heard of a skeleton guy w
alking around Kansas City?” I asked, remembering Xylo, as Alucard had called him.

  Achilles frowned. “Nope to the bonehead, but I wouldn’t mind getting Cain to jump into the fight schedule every now and then. He’s good with a crowd.”

  “You might want to visit Kansas City. It seems they have ninjas, now.” He glanced up at me thoughtfully, sensing the hint of annoyance in my tone, but picked up a rag and began wiping the counter rather than pressing me on it. “I just hung out with Odin.”

  Achilles stopped wiping down the bar to look up at me. “Where did you find the bastard? Was he in Kansas City, too?”

  I frowned. “Asgard, of course.”

  Achilles frowned. “Strange. My Valkyrie friend said no one had heard from him in quite some time.”

  “Your Valkyrie friend?” I teased, rolling my eyes. “Kára is way too cool to associate with you, tool.”

  Achilles smirked shamelessly. “I’m not going to tell her that.”

  I laughed. “Odin’s been running around a lot, reassuring the Nine Realms about his absence. And calming them down about Thor’s murder. The whole giant snake thing is probably a concern.”

  Achilles scratched as his scruffy jaw. “I tried calling Kára, but her phone went straight to voicemail.”

  “I saw her in Asgard. Maybe her phone doesn’t work there.”

  He shrugged, nodding dismissively. “She’s not the kind of girl that I should need to worry about being in danger,” he chuckled. “Still…”

  I laughed. “She would kill you for thinking she is weak. She recently tried to kill me with a hatchet, by the way” I added, hoping to reassure him about her self-defense capabilities.

  He smiled, letting out a breath of relief. “Oh, good,” he said jovially. “Even if she’s losing her vision in her old age, at least she tried. It’s the thought that counts, right?” He scooped up a trio of beers and pointed at the tray. “Carry that for me.”