I nodded. “In essence, my parents strengthened me offensively. You and Baldur were strengthened defensively. So all those ‘lucky’ moments I just said that you experienced…well, I have those too. Just from a different perspective. Everyone is always looking at me to do the big, loud, obnoxious hocus pocus stuff, and they always act surprised when I win against opponents who should have handily beaten me. They don’t understand that I never just do the big loud magic. I usually have a dozen aces up my sleeve that are specifically designed to counterattack what I already know they are going to do. Now, that doesn’t mean I’m doing it all on purpose or that I’m that much of a badass. I’ve been really fucking lucky. No question. I should have died a dozen times over by now. But I am starting to believe that some subconscious part of me has always known about my figurative glass heel. I think it’s just taken me longer to learn about it than it took you.”
He shook his head. “That’s not all of it. Spill, or the boys are going to wonder why we’re taking so long in here.”
I snorted, wondering how to phrase my thoughts as carefully as possible while still getting the answers I wanted…
“Given the pros and cons of our polar, but similar, backgrounds, would you want to change anything? If you could go back and tell your mother to make a different choice, would you?”
He thought about it for almost ten seconds. “No. It was worth it. And not just because it made me a badass. I’ve spent centuries fighting other warriors, and it was very rare that I encountered anyone who knew their own flaws and strengths as well as I knew mine. My mother’s curse was a blessing in a way she never intended. Without that obstacle of overcoming my own legend, I might have just skated by, drunk on my own victories—winding up as just another dead soldier on the pages of history. My mother’s overprotectiveness directly failed, since everyone knew of it. But indirectly, it saved my life.”
I nodded. “I’m not sure Baldur is so enlightened. He seems dead set on taking Odin down, and I had a really nasty feeling about him the moment we met. To be honest, I purposely pressed his buttons, hoping that he would be more like you, but I’m entirely certain he is nothing like you. He celebrates his invulnerability, thinking it makes him better than everyone. He’s an entitled know-it-all, and does not respect his own weakness.”
“You picked a fight with him, didn’t you?”
I shrugged. “Best way to test a man.”
Achilles nodded. “True,” he admitted. “Well, whatever it is that you’re doing, I can tell that you don’t want to talk about it just yet. I’ll admit I’m damned curious, though. If there is anything I can do to help, just ask.”
I nodded. “Thanks. But I do have one other question.”
“Shoot.”
“Did your mother really do it?” I asked.
He stared back at me for a few moments, and then a wolfish smile split his cheeks. “I’ve been waiting my entire life to hear someone ask that…” he whispered, shaking his head.
I shrugged. “Kind of seems like an obvious question. So many people know about your heel…and they also know how successful you’ve been in battle—each backs up the other. It almost seems like propaganda.” I swiped my hand in a gesture that encompassed the building we stood in. “Exhibit A—look at what you called your bar. Another reminder for everyone to see. A subliminal reminder.”
He smirked. “Allegedly.”
“Hypothetically, I could argue that if you had won a few big fights, and then started a rumor that your only weakness was your heel…that would be a pretty good way to turn fiction into fact, or myth into history. Each successive victory would only further cement your claim and, pretty soon, everyone would take it as fact. The more that legend grew, the hungrier the other warriors would become—the more emotionally invested they would become—to take you down, meaning every single one of them would be gunning for your heel, even if only to disprove the legend. And as long as you knew how to protect your heel, defeating them all would be like stealing candy from a baby.” Achilles nodded, grinning from ear-to-ear. “So. Is it true? Did your mother really dip you in the River Styx?”
He took a deep breath and finally sighed. “That’s the irony of it all. Whether she really did it or not doesn’t even matter—the rumor alone made it true.” He chuckled, shaking his head.
I smirked. “And there is only one way to prove it.”
He grinned boyishly. “Also true. But since we’re being honest with each other, and you gave me this fancy knife, I won’t string you along. I swear on my Name that it’s the truth—my mother dipped me in the River Styx.”
“But the rumor would have had the same effect.”
He nodded. “Absolutely—as long as I won those first fights in an epic fashion. As long as I put on a good show.”
I nodded along, straightening from the wall. “Thanks, Achilles. You didn’t have to tell me any of that, and I’ll keep it in confidence. We better get back.”
“No problem, Temple. No problem. Felt good to talk about it, as a matter of fact.” He winked. “Or fiction.”
I grunted, rolling my eyes. I exited the restroom first, only to find War leaning against the wall, holding a cigar cutter to a thick, aromatic cigar. “A word, Hope.”
“As long as that cutter is only for your cigar, sure.”
He smiled, looking me in the eyes as he chopped the tip off.
Achilles walked out a few moments later, pretending to dry his hands. He saw War, dipped his head with a curious frown, and then kept on walking. “Smoke out back, asshole. I’m closing up and going home.”
War grunted and motioned me to follow him out the back exit.
This ought to be interesting, I thought to myself, as I followed him out the door.
Chapter 22
War lit his cigar with an old-school Zippo lighter, puffing contentedly for a few moments. Then he leaned against the brick wall, staring up at the dark sky. The streets were damp, but at least it wasn’t still raining. It was definitely chilly, though. We were creeping up on December, and Missouri could be surprisingly cold one day, and alarmingly warm the next.
It was late, but we still had a few more hours until dawn. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel as tired as I thought I should have. I’d slept in until late afternoon today, anticipating that the warehouse fiasco and my summoning of Loki would take a while.
They hadn’t, but a slew of other things had filled up the time.
“I heard you talking to Achilles,” War said without preamble.
“Oh?” I said, as casually as possible. I leaned back against the wall beside him. “Achilles probably wants that to remain private, which is why I spoke to him privately, where people wouldn’t overhear,” I said, shooting him a pointed look. “Or eavesdrop.”
War chuckled, licking his lips and then spitting out a few flecks of tobacco. “That wasn’t the part I was most interested in, but your analysis was very clever, and spot on. You did well. So well that he didn’t even realize your true purpose. You made him think it was all about him, or all about you, when neither was true. Bravo. That is the second interesting thing you’ve done to catch my attention tonight.”
I arched an eyebrow, keeping my face blank. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I’m all ears.”
“The second thing was applesauce, by the way.”
Inwardly, I cursed Gunnar, but nothing showed on my face.
“I pressed Gunnar a little bit, and I unearthed a treasure trove of glittering, golden lies.”
I sighed. “Gunnar is strung out these days, but especially tonight.”
War nodded. “His pups. He mentioned it. Never heard of such a thing, for what it’s worth.” He glanced over at me, taking a few deep puffs of his cigar, staring deeply into my eyes. I was pretty sure he inhaled. Hardcore. “You don’t know me as well as you know Death. We’ve only really talked the one time, and that was on the eve of your war with the Greeks.”
I nodded, remembering it well. He’d given me
some advice that had been hard to digest. But it had been good advice, in the long run.
“I think we should spend some time together, Horseman to Horseman,” he suggested. “A large part of training is just camaraderie. Brotherhood. So you can call this training, or you can call it hanging out.”
“And if I don’t want to hang out right now?”
“Then you can call it training,” he said, puffing on his cigar.
“Maybe you’ve just had too much to drink—”
“Maybe I’m not really War. That would be alarming, wouldn’t it?”
I froze, taking a sudden step back. Loki. Shit.
He puffed on his cigar, not having moved a muscle. “That’s called a bluff and a tell. I’m pretty good at poker, you know. Most Generals are.”
I studied him suspiciously. “Prove it.”
He shrugged, resting his boot up against the wall. “You can sense my Mask if you try hard enough. They resonate with each other. Well, they kind of repel each other.”
I focused on my Mask, and then focused on the man beside me. After a moment, I felt a faint magnetic attraction. Except he was right, it was almost how two magnets repelled each other if the wrong polar ends were close—not as strong, but as if a faint buffer existed between our Masks.
With Alucard’s Mask, it was the opposite feeling. They hardcore attracted each other.
I leaned back against the wall, letting out a breath, realizing he’d gotten me with his bluff, which meant he purposely referenced the illusion comment, knowing that it meant something.
“How did you know?” Then I frowned uneasily. “Does anyone else know?”
He shook his head. “I don’t even think Death noticed, but he was too focused on getting home to Othello. And he already trusts you, sees you as a friend. We haven’t bonded like that yet, and I usually look very closely at people—especially my friends.”
“You want to chaperone or something? Is that it?”
He coughed, laughing mid-inhale. “No,” he said, coughing a few more times. “I want to hang out. I’m intrigued in how you chose to handle this. Your first conflict after naming all four of your crew, and you only let one of them into your inner circle. I guess you could say I’m curious.” He spat again, clearing his throat. “And you need training,” he suggested. “Since you don’t have Grimm at hand, I figured one of us old dogs might be of assistance.”
I sighed tiredly, trying to think of a justifiable excuse. The fewer people who knew about my plans, the better. That was the power behind my deal with Loki. Utter chaos.
“What do you think you know?” I finally asked.
He thought about it for a few moments and finally grunted. “I won’t say any names, of course, but I think you’re playing magician.”
I frowned, feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand up. That was…exactly how I’d come up with my plan. “Meaning?”
“It’s all about the distraction. Look here, look there. Oh, you’re right next to me? Then look over here. Oh, you’re far away, then look at the flashing lights and smoke machines. In fact, why not just look at all the distractions while I do my trick right in front of you.” He glanced at me, gauging my reaction, but I kept my face blank. “You’re making smoke like your life depends on it. All so that no one sees the obvious. In fact, you’ve even done a few obvious tricks—also as misdirects—to catch the overconfident members of the audience. And you’re hiding tricks within other tricks, sending everyone off in different directions. You’ve got several distractions and several tricks for every individual who might be watching. The only person who knows the truth is the magician’s assistant, and I’m pretty sure even he doesn’t know everything.”
I sighed, nodding. “I didn’t realize it was so obvious. It seemed to be working.”
He grunted, turning to face me directly. “Oh, no. You’re killing it. They don’t have any idea. Hell, you even had me baffled for a while. Until I heard about the applesauce and your talk with Achilles.” He chuckled. “And I’m impressed enough to admit that you may even be pulling the wool over my eyes, making me think I have you figured out. Which is why I’m insisting that I tagalong until your performance is over.”
I realized I was smiling, nodding along. “Applesauce gave it away?” I asked, surprised.
“A General—the good ones anyway—are magicians, too. We’re also gamblers. Applesauce led me down the proper path, but there is only one way to see if I’m right. But I will openly admit that you might be a lot more dangerous than I ever thought—and I thought you were plenty dangerous back when I first saw you in this bar,” he said, pointing a thumb at Achilles’ Heel behind us. “When you sucker punched that Angel right out the goddamned door! But then when you were completely out of magic, all your allies gone, and you somehow convinced Death to let you borrow his horse? Fuck me!” he breathed, his eyes twinkling excitedly. “The balls on this guy! You fucking died to save his future girlfriend. And then you came back and roasted your enemy’s soul on a fire! Yeah, Temple, you’re fucking dangerous. You’re the fucking Omega, in my opinion.”
I stared at him, stunned. I…wasn’t sure if I had ever felt so proud to earn another man’s respect.
“Thanks. And I’d appreciate your help. I might need it more than I first thought, to be honest.”
“I’d recommend caution in your trust,” War said, puffing on his cigar. “Not that you need to hear that or anything. But I’d check that Horseman bond each and every time you see us. If one of us—Alucard or myself—even steeps away to piss, you better check who really comes back. I know I will. We can’t afford any mischief,” he said meaningfully.
I nodded. “You read my mind. I’ve been doing that with Alucard already, but I should make sure he’s doing the same in case someone tries to impersonate me.”
As if on cue, Alucard walked out the back exit to the bar. The door slammed shut behind him, followed by the sound of a dozen deadbolts slamming into place. Alucard muttered darkly under his breath before he spotted us leaning against the brick wall. He sauntered over, looking more alert than before.
I took a moment to sense his Mask, verifying it was the real Alucard. I let out a faint sigh of relief and smiled at him.
“I think that beer shower did the trick,” he said. “Or the three energy drinks. Either way, I feel much better. Achilles made me help clean up before he would tell me where you went.”
I chuckled. “Where is everyone else?”
“Gunnar and Death already left. Told me to hitch a ride with you.”
He glanced at War, discreetly shooting me a look when the Horseman wasn’t looking. I nodded. “He’s clued in.”
Alucard arched an eyebrow. “Oh. I thought—”
Out of nowhere, a glass bottle struck the wall behind us, and I felt a dull thump deep in my chest—like a shockwave rolling out from the point of impact.
And with the sensation, my power was immediately sucked out of me—all magic of any flavor whatsoever.
I gripped my necklace on instinct and froze. “Holy shit,” I breathed, spinning to glance at War and Alucard. Their hands had also shot to their Horseman Masks. Alucard’s face went slack and he shook his head. He abruptly opened his mouth wide, and I saw the muscles on his neck straining. But his fangs didn’t pop out.
“Um. I can’t get it up,” he said, his eyes darting about the parking lot. I hadn’t really noticed, but there were a dozen or so cars parked nearby. An adjacent building looked like some kind of apartment complex, so I was betting Achilles shared the lot with the tenants.
Nothing moved in the darkness, the area only illuminated by one dim yellow streetlamp.
I reached into my satchel, and my hand struck the bottom, finding it empty. My eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s…not possible,” I hissed, scraping my fingers across an interior I had never felt before—because the Darling and Dear satchel was bottomless.
War narrowed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and flexed his fists at his si
de. He shook his head minutely, letting me know that his Mask was also useless as his eyes tracked the parking lot. He sniffed at the air, and I noticed a strong earthy smell. For some reason, it made me think of a cold…spiciness—like that sensation from those muscle rub ointments but not minty.
“Motherfucking witches,” War cursed.
As if amused by his words, cackling laughter suddenly surrounded us from the perimeter of the parking lot, resembling a pack of hyenas.
They definitely outnumbered us, which was always fun.
Chapter 23
Alucard grunted. “Damn. No sparkle power either,” he said, glaring at the shadowy lot, suddenly noticing just how many hiding spots there were. “What do you think they want?”
“I doubt they’re selling cookies,” I muttered. Then I remembered the call from Niko that I had ignored. “Pretty sure they want me dead,” I growled. “If they were anything but assassins, they would have made their demands after safely nullifying our powers.”
“I agree,” War said.
“He’s a clever boy, isn’t he?” one of the cackling voices taunted in a strange accent—definitely European, but I couldn’t place it. And I didn’t see her anywhere, obviously hiding from us to make sure we didn’t have any weapons or guns.
“Assassins,” Alucard muttered. “Creepy Euro assassins.”
I nodded. Then I turned to War, speaking low so as not to be overheard. “Crews like this have been hunting me lately, but the group we took down earlier tonight had incredibly bad luck. Maybe the witches heard about that and are trying to even the playing field.”
“Let’s not rely on their bad luck,” War said dryly. “I always assume that half of my plans will fail. Then I incorporate those anticipated failures into a new plan.”
I nodded, remaining vigilant in case any of the witches grew bold. “Let’s find a way out of their death trap or we will be stuck playing defense while they pick us apart. I bet they used an expanding circle, but I have no idea how big of a radius it has,” I said, thinking out loud. “If we can get out of it, we can fight back. We just need to make it to the SUV—”
Ascension: Nate Temple Series Book 13 Page 14
