Knightmare: Nate Temple Series Book 12

by Shayne Silvers

  “No, Grimm. I won’t let this happen,” I whispered.

  He let out a long, high-pitched, but almost silent whine—a sound I didn’t even know a unicorn could make. I gasped, openly crying and trying to blink through my tears. I set my hand on his nose, squeezing reassuringly, even though some of my fingers felt numb and stiff from Mordred breaking them.

  “I love you, Grimm. Tell Alex that I tried,” I whispered.

  And I slammed the molten edge of the rainbow staff onto the nub of jagged bone where his horn had been. He kicked and bucked at the sensation of heat so close to his face, but I knew it wasn’t touching his flesh. He was just in shock from his chest wound. I closed my eyes and focused on the rainbow staff, commanding it to do my bidding.

  The molten edge fused to all that remained of Grimm’s old horn, and the blood dripping down the staff bonded it all together with a flash of green smoke. When I pulled my hand away, excess grit cascaded down over Grimm’s head and my wrist, leaving a long, jagged, gleaming point—larger than the original.

  I scooted closer, and my free hand touched something on the ground. I grasped it as I heard Mordred drawing closer. But the most important thing in my mind was to wrap my other arm around Grimm’s neck in a tight embrace as I pressed my cheek against his.

  He whinnied weakly and I nuzzled my cheek harder against his as I felt Mordred stop just above me.

  He grunted. “A boy and his unicorn. How sweet—”

  A blast of multi-colored lightning hit him in the face from point-blank range, sending him flying at least fifty feet. I dropped the other half of the rainbow-staff I had accidentally found while crawling over to Grimm. That had been a fortunate find.

  Knowing I had only moments to save him, I stroked Grimm’s velvet nose. Then I slapped my other hand—and all the bloody rainbow grit left over from his new horn—onto his gaping chest wound. Then I poured my magic into him without mercy.

  He screamed and began kicking his feet wildly, his eyes wide and spinning, but I held him down, funneling every last drop of magic I could into his wound, commanding the grit to heal and repair.

  Because Grimm was one of my best friends. My brother.

  My unicorn.

  My magic flickered out and I collapsed onto my back, panting and seeing stars in my vision. I turned my head to face Grimm and stared in awe at his long, violently beautiful new horn. He was breathing steadier, and the wound on his chest was now just a big patch of semi-healed, glittering skin.

  “Go,” I whispered to him, trying my best to ignore the sounds of Mordred stomping our way again.

  Grimm shed a tear, shaking his head violently. “No,” he whispered. “Just hold on a little longer, Hope,” he begged. “I need you.”

  I shook my head with a sad smile. “No you don’t.”

  Because I’d tried tapping into my magic, and it had not been strong enough to Shadow Walk. I wasn’t sure what Mordred’s black sword was, but it had apparently leeched away my magic. Like it had spilled my blood, it had also spilled my magic reserves.

  “Go, old friend. It’s been my honor. And if Makayla ever wants a unicorn for her birthday party, you better fucking say yes.”

  He snorted. “That’s just not going to happen.”

  Mordred was suddenly towering over me again, and I saw a dagger of some kind racing towards my heart.

  Grimm flung himself in the way, stabbing his new horn into Mordred’s stomach.

  But not before Mordred stabbed me in the upper chest near my shoulder and collar bone. I gasped at the flash of fire and pain. Grimm had deflected the strike somewhat, but combined with my other injuries, I was pretty sure this was it.

  Grimm slammed Mordred to the ground, hopped in a circle, and then double back-kicked him into oblivion.

  I reached my hand up to my chest, fumbling weakly for the dagger, but all I felt was a bone sticking out of my chest.

  Grimm hissed. “That’s my old horn!”

  I shrugged, feeling dizzy and sleepy. “At least no one can see me now,” I mumbled. “All beat up and lying around like a bum. Goddamned unicorn horn in my chest,” I complained. “Ridiculous.”

  “Get up, Nate. grab my horn and I’ll try to flip you onto my back. Maybe Pandora’s hot tub can help you,” Grimm pleaded, sounding desperate.

  I shook my head, feeling suddenly nauseous and dizzy at the suggestion. “So I can fall off your back and plummet to my death? You want to get me killed twice by unicorn?” I muttered. “Ridiculous.”

  “I think someone is coming,” Grimm said uneasily.

  But something else he’d said caught my attention, making me frown. “Pandora…” It suddenly hit me. How had I forgotten that? “She can see me.”

  Like someone had flipped a switch, the scenery suddenly changed.

  Chapter 47

  I sat in a windswept desert of warm white sand. Colossal pyramids tipped in glass stabbed at the violet sky in the far distance, looking as large as mountains.

  And I wasn’t alone.

  A black jackal god sat cross-legged no more than five feet away from me. Anubis. He looked up and sighed, holding his palm out in front of him. A glowing orb crackling with electricity hovered just above it.

  “We have a problem,” he told me by way of introduction.

  I blinked at him, wondering if this was a hallucination.

  I frowned. “I’m not here to pay my library fines, Anubis. I’m pretty sure they waive those after death.”

  “You’re not quite dead yet. You have about thirty seconds left.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Then what am I doing here?”

  Anubis studied me for a few moments. And then he studied the orb in front of him. He sighed. “Remember the terms of your loan? You kill Mordred within two years, and I bring your pets back to life.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “They are not pets.”

  He nodded. “Sure. But they kind of are. Anyway. That’s not my point. You still had time left, yet here you are.”

  I growled. “Gee. Thanks. I tried.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, about that. You see, in life, there are no participation trophies. Sucks, but it is what it is. You failed. Period. Loan due and payable—”

  I leaned forward, cutting him off with a snarl. “You have me. You do not need Gunnar and Talon.”

  “—In about thirty seconds,” Anubis said, completing his sentence with careful enunciation. Then he watched me patiently. His eyes danced as if he was desperately trying to tell me something, but I didn’t know what it was.

  I ran back through his words. I had thirty seconds before I failed, and then he would be forced to call his loan due?

  “Okay,” I said warily, not sure what he was getting at. “I still have thirty seconds before I break the terms of my loan. So…can we renegotiate?” I asked, taking a wild guess.

  He let out a sigh of relief. “What an excellent idea!” he said. “Now, what can you bring to the table that I wouldn’t already have in thirty seconds?” he asked urgently, seeming to lean forward.

  I thought about it. “Um…” What did I have? I ran through an inventory of things in my satchel, but none of them seemed like they would be particularly valuable to Anubis. Not more than my soul.

  I sensed him twitching out of the corner of my eye and looked up. He was facing me, but his eyes were rapidly moving from me to the electric orb in his palm. I frowned at it, obviously picking up on his hints that there was something special about this orb. And Anubis dealt in souls. So…this must be a soul.

  I stared at the electricity and a sudden thought hit me.

  “I can give you Thor’s soul,” I blurted out. Because it was inside the vial in my pocket. When I died, it would go to whoever emptied my pockets, and that wouldn’t be Anubis.

  He let out a sigh of relief. “What a valuable piece of collateral,” he said, as if reading a script. “A powerful old god’s soul instead of a powerful, adolescent godkiller.” Was he being recorded or something? He was acting
like he had the quality assurance department auditing our conversation.

  I nodded. “Of course, if you don’t think it’s a fair trade, who knows where it might end up when I die. Any number of people could grab it. Like some of Thor’s friends, the ones he was working so hard to impress—”

  “Right, of course,” Anubis cut in hurriedly, using his eyes to tell me to shut my goddamned mouth about the group that shall not be named. “You would be willing to give up Thor’s soul to keep yours?”

  “As long as you heal me from my wounds—”

  “Ah. I cannot do that, but I can remove the damage from your fatal wounds. General wear-and-tear is not covered in our contracts. And, no offense, but you kind of got your ass handed to you back there.”

  This was worse than sitting down with an accountant and an aggressive life coach at the same time. “Heal my fatal wounds, and we have a deal.”

  “Splendid! If you could just sign here,” he told me, whipping out a thick parchment and a pen, “then you can be on your way.”

  I took the contract and read over it carefully. I wasn’t an idiot. Seeing nothing that looked concerning, I set it on my knee and signed it. Then I handed it back. “How do I give you Thor’s soul?” I asked, frowning.

  “When you return, smash it against something hard and repeat my name three times. That should suffice.” He held out a hand. “Now, if you will please follow me, I will show you the way back.”

  I turned to see a gray door suddenly standing up from the sand about twenty feet away. It definitely hadn’t been there moments before. I climbed to my feet and walked alongside Anubis, shaking my head.

  “This is…unexpected,” I admitted.

  “Customer service is important. We aim to please.”

  I nodded very slowly. “Right.”

  “A Master Temple until your last breath,” he said, shaking his head as if awestruck by his own good fortune. I glanced over at him to see his head facing forward, but his eyes were dancing intently.

  “Thank you,” I said carefully. Was he trying to tell me something?

  He suddenly grabbed me to steady my balance—except I hadn’t lost my balance. “Apologies, Master Temple. You looked about to fall,” he said, staring deep into my eyes. “That would have been a bad end to a good night.”

  Numbly, I shook my head. “Just a stumble, I assure you.”

  And he winked.

  There was no more discussion as he led me towards the door.

  I walked in a trance, trying to understand what he was doing. It was an obvious reference to my father. Was he trying to tell me which side he was on?

  “Remember,” he said, opening the door, “do not forget to break the vial and repeat my name three times. That will complete our contract.”

  I nodded and stepped through the doorway into darkness. It clicked shut behind me, quite gently, actually—

  Then the floor dropped out beneath me, and I was suddenly five-thousand feet in the air, free falling.

  Chapter 48

  I fell through the sky, but this time I did it much more gracefully.

  Because although I was free falling, there was no wind whipping at my face, causing me to tumble and flip. Instead, it was as if I remained stationary while the Land of the Fae drew closer very rapidly.

  And this time it was dark, showing me pockets of lightness here and there to signify cities, homes, and even a few bioluminescent environments.

  I saw my mountain in the distance, cold, dark, and brooding.

  But most of all, I saw the hot fires of war. Great, blazing flames surrounding a crystalline palace—the Summer Queen’s home. It didn’t look destroyed, but it was limping along. The battle had raged at her walls, causing much pain and heartache, yet she had not fallen.

  Just stumbled, perhaps.

  Another castle stood alone, surrounded by a lake of green, swampy, neglected water. The castle and surrounding city had seen its glory days long ago. It had thrived and prospered at one point, but now it was just a skeleton of its former self. Camelot.

  I knew this, because my flight plan seemed to be sending me just outside it. Although still dark, my vision had started to adapt, growing accustomed to the lack of light.

  So as I sailed closer to the ground, I noticed several strange things.

  I saw my body—which pulled at me like a magnet, directing my free fall through the stratosphere.

  I saw Grimm standing over me, but he moved slowly, as if underwater.

  And I saw three glowing figures arrayed in a small arc approaching Grimm—who seemed to be guarding me protectively—although they were still some distance away. Enough time for me to warn him.

  Knightmares were coming.

  I didn’t slow down as I slammed into my own body

  My eyes shot open and I gasped raggedly. The unicorn horn in my chest tumbled to my side, forced out of my wound. Grimm’s eyes widened. “What the fuck?” he hissed incredulously.

  The wound in my side burned with white fire as it sealed, the flesh knitting back together on front and back, and the muscles between spasmed and tugged inside me.

  I wouldn’t recommend it. Although the alternative was worse.

  I urgently reached into my pocket and pulled out the vial of Thor’s blood. I caught faint flashes of dim light within, as if his very blood was infused with lightning.

  I slammed it against the ground, shattering it. “Anubis, Anubis, Anubis,” I rasped. With a faint puff of smoke, the glass and blood was gone, leaving no evidence behind.

  “What the fuck?” Grimm demanded, louder.

  I propped myself up to a seated position, waving a tired hand. “I made a deal. I’ll tell you later.” He grunted unhappily, but he didn’t press. I noticed my satchel sitting beside me.

  “I figured you might want it,” Grimm said.

  I saw a flash of light and turned to look. Mordred stood about fifty feet away, staring at me. He glanced left and right, frowning momentarily, but then he shrugged it off. And took a slow, deliberate step towards me, his face determined to finish this once and for all.

  Although no longer dying, my body was still throbbing in pain from my numerous injuries. And my reservoir of magic was pitifully low.

  I subconsciously reached up and yanked the chain from my neck. The Horseman Mask of Hope winked into existence, throbbing powerfully in my hand, hungry to be used.

  I knew it was a gamble since it was already fractured, but if I could hulk out for just a moment, I could rip Mordred in half.

  Removing all the curses on the Knightmares—especially the three I had seen making their way closer to me.

  I lifted the Mask to my face, my hand shaking.

  And it suddenly cracked loud enough to echo, scalding my fingers as two pieces fell to the ground beside me, smoking.

  I stared down at them in stunned disbelief.

  “You might want to see this,” Grimm said.

  I looked up to see Mordred frozen with one foot in the air, unblinking as he glared at me. I frowned.

  Three figures stepped out from a copse of trees, the darkness repelled by some strange glow surrounding them. It wasn’t actually a light, because everything around them remained dark.

  It was more like…their aura was shining on a different spectrum that I was somehow able to see.

  “How?” I whispered, suddenly recognizing them.

  “Pandora told us it was time. Hope calls hope. You’ve been here two weeks, but she made us wait,” Callie said, looking concerned at my injuries. A soft white light limned her body.

  I choked, coughing as I struggled to prop myself up. Two weeks?

  “Gunnar called us. Said you needed some sense knocked into you,” Alucard said, sounding amused. “Figured he was probably right.” A green glow pulsed warmly around him.

  I turned to Gunnar, frowning at the golden glow outlining his massive frame. “Some sense knocked into me?”

  He nodded, folding his arms. “You’ve been playing favor
ites, and Alucard and I now have hurt feelings. We’re here to talk about that.”

  I blinked at him. Then I saw Callie grinning as she discreetly flashed me a view of the silver charm in her palm. The white light around her began to throb faintly, strengthened.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You tattled.”

  “Damn right I did. Because I’m on their side.”

  Gunnar glared at me, his eyepatch glinting despite the darkness surrounding us. “When my friend literally throws his life away to prove how arrogant he is, I tend to not give a shit about his delicate sensibilities.”

  “Speaking of,” Alucard said, stepping forward as he reached into his pocket to produce a metal flask. “You look like you could use a drink. I don’t know what it is, but Pandora was insistent that you drink it.”

  I accepted it with a thoughtful frown. I tasted it, surprised to find it warm. And as the crisp, sweet water touched my lips, I felt a rush of warmth flow through me. I guzzled it, downing the entire thing.

  Heat flowed through me, making my toes tingle.

  I shuddered, taking a deep breath as I glanced down at my body. I was still beaten to hell, but the water had sped up the healing process, turning the sharp fresh wounds into the dull aches of injuries a few days old. Hot tub water. Yum.

  It didn’t do anything for my depleted magic, though.

  It just made my current miserable existence slightly more tolerable.

  “What happened here?” Alucard asked, squatting down to point at my broken Mask.

  “I think Hope is dead.”

  “Hope never dies. Sometimes it is just hard to see,” Gunnar said in a low growl. “You know how to fix it, Nate.” I looked up to find him staring at my satchel.

  Alucard was angling his head as if trying to peek inside it. “He’s right, you know. Why else do you think Mordred suddenly froze? Almost like there’s some cosmic force pointing out the obvious to you, Little Brother.”

  I narrowed my eyes, scowling. I’d had the same thought. Because when I’d first accepted the Mask of Hope, time had slowed, giving me a chance to talk with the Biblical Four Horsemen.