Knightmare: Nate Temple Series Book 12

by Shayne Silvers

  I decided to move forward on the presumption that everyone was lying to me—whether consciously or not remained to be seen. Everyone had their own agendas. Since I constantly found myself discovering new secrets that usually made my life more difficult, I decided it was about time I grew a bit more cynical and started assuming the worst in people—that they were either dishing out incorrect answers or lying to me for some unknown reason.

  It made my life easier.

  I cleared my throat. “Okay, kids. Ashley needs a bed, and she needs it ten minutes ago. So I’m not negotiating here. I’m telling you how it’s going to be so I can take care of mama wolf. Questions can wait.”

  Ashley smirked weakly beneath her blindfold.

  “You want inside my treasure room, there are rules. Anyone caught breaking the rules gets to die. Zero tolerance. I am the only god in the Armory, capisce?”

  I was really only talking to Drake, Cowan, and the Norse crew, despite what I’d just said.

  Drake and Cowan shifted their postures slightly. Nothing suspicious, just revealing a healthy fear—knowing full well that I meant what I said. But I also saw the resolve in their eyes. They would do anything for Ashley and Gunnar.

  Odin and Freya shared a long, significant look, but finally turned to nod at me. Their hesitation was expected, because they knew the death sentence also applied to them—gods. This was one of the joys of mortality, and it was an acquired taste. Here, there be a godkiller.

  I held up a finger. “Rule number one. No talking to Pandora unless she talks to you first. Even then, you give a simple answer to her specific question. The only other reason to talk to her is to ask for her help in something specifically related to caring for Ashley. You need a towel or something, you may ask her. That’s it.”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Rule number two. Touch nothing. Even if you find Gungnir being used as a coat rack,” I added, knowing that it would mess with Odin.

  They all nodded.

  Odin spoke up after a few moments. “No one is here for your Armory, Nate. Ashley was the one to suggest coming here, if you recall.”

  I grunted and pointed a finger at Freya. “I don’t know her very well, but she looks like a shoplifter. That’s called profiling.”

  She squawked indignantly, but Odin placed a comforting hand on her forearm. “My greatest failure is breaking Nate’s trust,” he said in a guilty voice. She huffed, nodding in understanding. “A close second is failing to teach him tact.”

  This time he shot me a reproachful look—something Dean had done at least a dozen times a day, and I found myself grinning.

  “That boat sailed long ago,” Gunnar agreed, smiling.

  “Final rule. Do not invite anyone inside. Period. Underscore.” Again, they all nodded. “Now, we’re going to go around the class and verbally swear—by your name—to abide by those three rules. You break an oath like that with a wizard, and you might just lose whatever Freaky powers you have—godly or not.”

  The nods were less jovial this time. And I stared each person in the eye as they swore their oaths on their names. I knew it wasn’t perfect—there were always loopholes—but it was better than nothing.

  Even Gunnar and Ashley swore the oath, but I think it was more to set an example. They were already family, and had already been inside the Armory, so it hadn’t been necessary.

  “Let’s see what Pandora has to show us,” I said.

  “The way I remember it, she often shows quite a bit,” Gunnar mumbled. Ashley slowly turned her head to face her husband, and I saw his shoulders wilt guiltily, even though she couldn’t see him.

  I burst out laughing.

  “She does, does she?” Drake asked, staring at the door—having missed the nonverbal warning Ashley had given her husband.

  Cowan elbowed him sharply, shaking his head ever so slightly. Drake cleared his throat, scuffing his boots on the ground. “Well, that sounds unprofessional, if you ask me,” he said lamely. “Very unprofessional.”

  I rolled my eyes, still chuckling.

  I turned to face the large, impenetrable wooden doors behind me. They were decorated with a full-sized carving that featured a woodland scene with a pond, a wolf, an owl up in the trees, and fish swimming lazily in the pond. And they were all alive so that it looked more like a Nat Geo special—just in wood rather than digital format.

  As I stepped up to the door, the wolf calmly walked to the forefront of the carving and sat on its haunches.

  With a final sigh, I reached out to pet the wolf. He whined happily under my touch, and his fur felt absolutely real. As if my touch had been a gentle breeze introduced to the woodland scene, the leaves rustled faintly, and tiny ripples danced across the pond.

  The doors began to open, and everyone stared in wonder.

  I turned to Grimm, speaking low so as not to draw attention. “Can you drop off my recycling and then stand guard out here? I won’t be long.”

  “We won’t be long,” Gunnar corrected in a menacing growl, having crept closer to eavesdrop on me.

  I nodded impatiently. “Yes. We,” I corrected.

  Grimm pawed his hoof on the ground. “Rules of Engagement?” he asked, eyeing the hallway.

  I thought about it. “I can’t think of any reason someone would be down here, so you can give one warning before you maim and incapacitate. If they fight back, gratuitous pain or murder.”

  “Sweet,” he said, licking his lips. “Hurry up and make me a Gateway then, Rider.”

  I nodded, throwing up a portal to the Sanctorum for him. “It will close in five minutes,” I told him, tying off the Gateway to do just that.

  And everyone crept closer as the doors split down the middle, opening up into a vast, sandstone hallway wide enough to drive a truck through.

  I ignored the stunned gasps of my guests and entered the threshold to find Pandora standing there, smirking at me. “Oh, Master Temple. I’ve missed you so. I must say, shirtless is a good look on you.”

  I grinned fondly. “Hey, Hope,” I said, recalling the old nickname I’d once given her. Part of me idly wondered about that—how I’d chosen to call her Hope before I knew anything about becoming the Horseman of Hope.

  I’d chosen the nickname because Hope was rumored to be the last item in Pandora’s Box—after the plague of horrors that would first escape. I also wondered if she had known the coincidence beforehand, because Pandora was wicked, violently loyal, cosmically intelligent—able to read minds, and all sorts of other—

  “Why do you block your thoughts from me, my Host?” she asked, blinking slowly, looking mildly hurt.

  I stared at her, my own mouth open as I struggled to find an answer. Finally, I arched a brow, actually happy for the good news. “That’s great.”

  She shook her head, looking decidedly uneasy. “I don’t think it is. I think it’s rather dire, as a matter of fact. Typically, only gods can keep their thoughts private. You are not a god, but you are becoming a large, powerful target. The Catalyst in you, perhaps…” she trailed off, warily.

  I felt everyone watching me thoughtfully, but no one spoke.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Pandora,” Freya said, “but perhaps you can find us a bed for Ashley. I wouldn’t be surprised if her water broke in the next few minutes—Help!” she gasped.

  “I’ve got her!” Cowan growled, just as I heard a weakened moan and a sudden thud. I spun to see Freya on the ground with her legs sprawled out below Ashley as if she’d tried to cushion her fall. But Cowan, true to his word, had beaten her to it. He had dropped to his knees—the source of the thud—to catch Ashley in both arms. She hung limply, one of her arms dangling on the floor, whimpering weakly.

  Freya was eagerly patting Ashley’s cheeks, looking frightened.

  Gunnar instantly rushed over to take his wife from Cowan—with a territorial growl of warning. Werewolves. Even their thank yous were prickly. Cowan dipped his chin submissively as he carefully handed Ashley over.

&
nbsp; Pandora wasted no more time on pleasantries. “Hurry!” she snapped, spinning on her heels and motioning for us to follow her down the hall. “We must get her into the healing pool, now. A bed will have to wait. She is so weak at this moment that I fear she might not wake if she falls asleep.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You, girl, fetch me the satchel on the table near the balcony. Nate grab the platter of fruits and cheeses!”

  Gunnar snarled protectively and bolted after Pandora. I heard him talking to Ashley loudly, telling her to hold on and to be strong.

  Odin and the werewolves trailed behind him like a security detail.

  I grabbed Alice by the wrist and heaved her onto my shoulders. Then I ran to the balcony area and spotted the satchel on the table. It was brimming with glass vials and a few bundles of dried herbs.

  I scooped it up—and the platter of food beside it—and jogged after the sounds of racing feet, careful not to spill the food.

  I remembered the healing pond well. I usually just called it the hot tub, though. Pandora had christened it with Alex at one point—some sort of ritual related to him becoming the vessel for King Arthur’s soul. I hadn’t known that at the time. I’d thought I’d accidentally given Alex the best gift in the world—a chance to sleep with Pandora and give him some vitally necessary power that he’d need in order to keep me safe some day.

  So, Alex had quite literally taken one for the team. The most self-rewarding, altruistic sacrifice I’d ever heard of, the smug bastard.

  The two had remained close since, but they both made it sound very casual. Friends with occasional benefits. Strange, but I didn’t have the mental energy to get involved in my friends’ love lives.

  Alice urged me on, but I didn’t need any encouragement.

  Chapter 26

  It had turned out that us menfolk were not welcome in the hot tub, or even in close proximity to it. So the men had retreated back near the balcony, leaving the girls to care for mama werewolf. Before we’d been booted out, I had heard Pandora mention that the pool might help with Ashley’s vision injuries, so that was a plus.

  I had taken Gunnar’s gauntlets from my satchel—having forgotten to include them in the pile of armor Grimm had taken away for me—and returned them to him. My style of fighting wasn’t conducive to freaking armor, and I wanted to give Gunnar every shred of added protection I could, because he didn’t stand a chance against Thor, even as strong as he was. And whether I liked it or not, I knew Gunnar was going to stick by my side, wanting to go wherever the fighting was the most dangerous.

  Which was a problem. My primary goal was to make sure he made it home to see his kids when this was all said and done. I knew Gunnar’s boost in strength and sight—thanks to his spectral wolves—would only last twenty-four hours, so time was of the essence.

  Gunnar wasted no time putting the gauntlets back on with a satisfied growl. I would let him fantasize to his heart’s content, but I would be the one to put Thor into the ground. Gunnar could piss on Thor’s ashes for all I cared.

  I hadn’t wanted to leave without getting an update on Ashley, so my patience was very thin. I figured Alex and Talon were already waiting for me in the Sanctorum, and I desperately wanted to hear what they had learned about the Knightmares in St. Louis. What they were up to and if we needed to prepare a defense for Chateau Falco.

  So, left to our own devices, we had done what men do best—we’d been arguing and drinking. Well, I had been arguing with Odin. Drake and Cowan had wisely chosen not to get involved in the conversation, focusing instead on their drinks.

  Gunnar, of course, was doing neither. Instead, he was pacing back and forth, punching his armored fist into his armored palm each time he turned around—his thoughts solely for his wife, and maybe skinning Thor alive. Clang! Step-step-step-step-step-step-step. Clang! If I tried very hard, I could almost see the two wolves curled up on the floor beside Gunnar, sleeping on the job. It wasn’t like they had much else to do. They were just batteries for Gunnar right now. And eyeballs, however that worked.

  I wondered if I was able to share my powers like Odin had with Gunnar. That would be incredibly helpful. Then again, I wasn’t a god, so I doubted it. Pandora’s comment about no longer being able to read my mind haunted me for some reason, but I banished it.

  I turned away to glance around the open room, avoiding looking out at the sand swept desert beyond the balcony. It made me feel uneasy to stare out there. I didn’t know why. It was just so desolate and final. Nothing lived out there—a direct contradiction to the life within the Armory.

  I had let the silence stretch for the past five minutes as Odin and I regained our composure after screaming at one another. Okay. I had been screaming at him, demanding to know why Thor had inspired so much fear in St. Louis, but had been such a pussy when I confronted him. How Odin had used my dad to hide Mjölnir. Odin had given me no answers or very vague answers, hence the screaming.

  In the last five minutes, I’d thought back on my interactions with Odin. I’d been rude, physically beaten him up, and then screamed at him. And…he was acting like an adult dealing with a toddler.

  So. As angry as I was, I decided it was time to mature a little and use this new method called courtesy and respect. Even if I had to fake it. And I didn’t need an audience.

  I glanced over at Drake and Cowan. “Why don’t you guys go see if the girls need anything. Offer to get a bed ready, bring them water, anything helpful. If you don’t offer it, they’re going to storm in here any minute and demand to know why you’re lazing about while they do all the work. It’s the only way to beat the enemy.”

  Cowan nodded thoughtfully and Drake stared at me as if I’d just performed a miracle. The two of them left, murmuring softly to one another as they made their way to the healing pool.

  “That was cruel. You just sacrificed them,” Gunnar grunted, momentarily drawn out of his thoughts.

  I smirked. “It will build character.” Even Odin smiled at that, shaking his head wistfully. “Where are Hugin and Munin?” I finally asked him in a calm, gentle voice. I hadn’t seen the ravens since Niflheim—and it wasn’t like they needed to stand guard there anymore. Not with us having come to the Armory.

  “Doing what they do best,” Odin said. “They will be of no use inside the Armory.”

  Gunnar resumed his pacing, oblivious to our conversation. I knew all he wanted to do was check on Ashley and then go kill Thor. I didn’t disagree, but I knew we needed to meet with Alex and Talon first. Gunnar only had twenty-four hours before his wolf battery pack ran out, after all.

  I nodded my agreement. “I was actually thinking they could be of use against the Knightmares—like that one they ate in Niflheim six months ago,” I said casually, taking a wild gamble—because Alex had said that Knightmare disappeared a while ago.

  I sensed Odin stiffen and I knew I’d scored a win, but I didn’t look over at him, choosing to walk around the room with my staff and now-empty glass as I ran over his nonverbal answer. That was the same time Thor had attacked Gunnar and Ashley, but I still couldn’t fathom how it tied together, so I decided to keep digging. I set my glass down on a side table.

  “You never found a sword with the armor? Or learned what he was doing in Niflheim? You have to admit, it’s kind of strange.”

  Odin shook his head. “He wouldn’t say a word, and Hugin and Munin tried very hard,” Odin replied in a flat tone that sent a shiver up my spine.

  “Where is the Bioloki?” I asked, thinking back on Thor’s strange slip-up—how he’d been able to mention something that was supposed to be secret. Because Pandora had also hinted that my mind was no longer an open book. It wasn’t hard to guess that they were related.

  Odin had gone entirely still. “Why?” he asked, not even bothering to demand how I knew that word.

  I shrugged absently. “Entertain me,” I said, my mind desperately trying to connect at least some dots. Thor had mentioned a few other strange things as well, but I wasn’t goi
ng to give Odin that kind of information—not until he gave up some answers of his own.

  Because I’d somehow found a loophole into their godly gossip club.

  They were no longer prevented from saying certain things to me, and that could come in handy.

  Of course, I was also very aware that if gods learned this about me, it would make me even more of a threat.

  Odin shook his head. “It is safe,” he said. “And it has nothing to do with this. Forget you ever heard it.”

  He watched me intensely for a moment, looking overly concerned as he debated something internally. I let him stew, wondering what he would decide. This new tactic was working way better. Who would have thought?

  “Be careful, Nate,” he finally said in a soft voice. “Events are spinning wildly out of control. Freya and I have some gift for prophecy, the turning of events, and even we find that we are looking at pale silhouettes of a future that may or may not be. We can’t discern what comes next. We are not trying to hide anything from you, we are trying not to distract you with worthless information. Because you seem to be doing just fine by yourself, believe it or not—”

  There was a sudden pounding on the door—as loud as a hammer.

  THUD…THUD…THUD!

  Gunnar exploded into his seven-feet of gargantuan werewolf—his Wulfric form—snarling loud enough to make my ears pop. I stared at the door warily. Even knowing Grimm should have been out there, I doubted he would have knocked like that unless it was an emergency.

  Or maybe Thor was out there, and Grimm was dead. I jerked my chin at Odin, telling him to get behind us. I no longer needed him to answer doors for me—and potentially get killed by whomever waited on the opposite side. I needed him to focus on taking care of Ashley.

  I didn’t want two gods dying today.

  As if the thought had been a spark to a flame, my golden veins suddenly flared to existence. I wasn’t sure if that was a sign of danger or if my blood had gotten excited about the suggestion. We were about to find out.