They had been painted with the colors of Summer and Winter.
I shivered.
“But… the tree is only here thanks to you…” I finally said.
They nodded sadly, turning to me. “To buy you time…” Barbie murmured.
“To say goodbye…” Inky finished.
Chapter 13
“Well, this is what we call FUBAR…” Mallory muttered. “Fecking Queens—”
The sprites were on him in a blur, but they struck an invisible dome of power surrounding him, rebounding in a flurry of wings and hisses.
“Don’t. Just don’t,” he muttered, clutching his spear, although it wasn’t crackling with power.
“Nice stick,” Barbie drawled. “Can I touch it?”
Mallory grinned like a wolf. “Be my guest, tits. I mean, toots.”
Barbie grinned back voraciously. Sonya was frantically pointing at Barbie and looking for one of the adults to notice that she had also made an inappropriate double entendre. No one paid her any mind though, so she folded her arms with a loud huff.
I was suddenly very nervous. “Everyone calm down. What exactly is that tree?” I knew there had been something more to the tree than a mere headstone for Indie. The Huntress was now staring out the window at the giant tangle of limbs, as if seeing it for the first time. Perhaps she hadn’t ever paid attention to it before.
The sprites were shaking their heads. “That is irrelevant. We are forbidden—”
“No. You will answer.”
They stared at me defiantly, then the look morphed into frustration. “We. Cannot. Bound to our Queens, we are.”
I finally let out a sigh. Fucking Queens. Fucking Fairies.
“Tell me what the Queens have done to stress the boundaries. Have they taken children? Give me someth—”
Barbie suddenly squealed in terror, slamming into my head and grabbing me by the hair. Sir Muffle Paws flew through the air where she had been hovering, landing lightly on his feet. I hissed in pain as Barbie tugged and yanked at my scalp in an effort to get away, or to at least use me as a human shield. I hadn’t even known Sir Muffle Paws was in the room with us.
I heard the Huntress laughing. Possibly one or two other voices.
“Filthy feline!” Barbie shrieked, tugging tiny fistfuls of my hair out by the roots. Sir Muffle Paws – the size of a cocker spaniel – saw the sprite was now tangled in my hair, and decided collateral damage was entirely acceptable in his hunt to catch the shiny fairy. He dove at my face. “Gah!” I yelled as Barbie used my skull as a launch-pad to flee out the open doorway, ripping out another chunk of my hair in the process. Inky wasn’t far behind her. Sir Muffle Paws struck my chest with four sets of claws backed by a solid twenty pounds of force, and then launched himself after the fairies with a less than gentle slash of his claws. He disappeared around the corner, leaving me panting, chest on fire, and hair like a foreclosed bird’s nest.
“So…” Gunnar began. “Fairies. The Beast Master. What else do you have going—”
Dean uncharacteristically bustled into the room, interrupting Gunnar. “Sprites in the main corridor,” he announced with an alarmed frown. Then he took in my appearance, and his frown deepened. “What happened to your forehead?” I growled as Sonya chuckled. “Right. I see you are already aware…” He cleared his throat, subconsciously straightening his tuxedo. “Master Temple, I think you need to see this. I have been fielding calls all morning, deflecting lawyers and—”
I held up a hand, discreetly eyeing our audience. Dean let out a breath, straightened his coat again, and nodded with a slightly embarrassed look. They didn’t need to know about my side project, and why Dean was fielding my calls. Othello hid her face behind her drink, pretending to take a big gulp of her whisky. She immediately choked on it as it went down the wrong pipe.
“What is it, Dean?” I asked, annoyed that she had only managed to draw attention to the comment and herself. The Reds had rushed over to her and were patting her on the back. Gunnar turned from Othello to me with a calculating frown.
Dean saved me by plucking up a remote off a nearby table and turning on the TV. He switched it to the news, and everyone but the Reds – who were still doctoring Othello – watched in confusion at the chaos on the screen. The news was replaying video footage of the baggage claim area of the St. Louis Airport.
But people were running, screaming, and causing general mayhem as a woman in a trench coat suddenly appeared on the screen. She stalked past the luggage carousel carrying a sword that dripped crimson liquid.
My heart stopped as I leaned closer. The footage was grainy, but not many carried an umbrella sword. Alucard hissed in recognition of the unique weapon. His old weapon. Then she was gone.
“Indie…” I breathed.
Sonya, apparently not watching the TV, sounded suddenly excited. “Yay! Indie’s back! Ow, Aria! What the hell was that fo—” Her sister must have punched her, realizing what was happening on the news, but I didn’t turn to see. Because I couldn’t peel my eyes from the screen.
A man with white hair appeared, calmly following in Indie’s wake, eating peanuts out of a paper sack in his hand, not a care in the world on his recognizable face. Then he, too, disappeared from the camera’s angle.
Ichabod.
“Well,” Alucard murmured. “She’s missed dinner. That’s… unfortunate.”
Dean cleared his throat, breaking the stunned silence after Alucard’s comment. “Agent Jeffries has also called numerous times.”
“What have you told him?” I whispered, feeling like I was in physical shock, as if having just survived a serious car accident.
“That I was unaware of the situation,” he answered carefully. I managed to nod back, thankful he hadn’t tried to lie. Agent Jeffries had the unique ability to sense lies.
“If he calls again, tell him I’ll… call back soon. That you just showed me the news, and that I was equally… unaware.” He nodded and left, pulling out his phone as it began to ring. I simply stared out the window, feeling numb, not seeing anyone in the room as my mind raced with questions.
Othello clapped her hands loudly, speaking in a commanding tone. I didn’t even flinch at the sound. “I think everyone needs to leave. Now. I’ll keep you updated, but I think everyone has their marching orders.” I snapped out of my daze to see Othello point a finger at Tory and Alucard. “Don’t use your powers.” She turned to the Reds. “Keep your parents from doing anything stupid.” This elicited a round of laughter, but I couldn’t move; even a facial twitch was beyond my abilities at the moment. “And maybe everyone should find some iron. Just in case.” Everyone murmured agreement and said quiet goodbyes, risking discreet glances my way. Which I didn’t acknowledge.
Gunnar patted me on the shoulder as he and Ashley left. “I’m sorry about…” he sighed, getting no reaction from me. “Look, just let me know about the circus Freak. Once…” he waved a hand at the TV, which was still playing, “you figure this out. We’re here for you.”
I felt Ashley staring at me intently. I might have mumbled something back, nodding absently at her concerned glance. But it was equally as likely that I just stared at her. I walked up to one of the chairs near the fireplace and sat down, staring out at the unnatural tree through the large window. I had tried carving the bark once, but the wood had resisted any attempts to mar the surface. The sprites had called it a Gateway. Staring at the tree only emphasized the video footage we had just watched, because this was where Indie had died and been resurrected. It sparkled in the noon sunlight as the room grew silent.
The door clicked shut and I turned to see Othello slowly walking to the chair opposite me, not making eye contact. She poured a fresh drink, glanced down at the black book on the coffee table, and picked it up.
Or, she tried to.
But it didn’t budge.
I waved a hand. “Sorry, off limits,” I whispered, still replaying the footage of the airport in my head, even though the TV had moved
on to some reporter talking about terrorism with no facts at all to back up her claims.
Othello watched me, waiting for an elaboration, but after a long pause, seemed to accept my silence. She poured me a fresh drink, pressing the cool glass into my hand. Then she glanced down again at the cover of the book, Through the Looking-Glass. “Off limits to me, or…?” she pressed.
I think my face managed a semblance of a smile as I met her eyes. “No, everyone but me.” She nodded once, then took a sip of her drink, staring into the fire. After a few moments, I spoke again. “Thanks. For getting everyone out of here. I… didn’t feel like company anymore.”
“I know.”
I sighed, a true smile split my cheeks as she didn’t get up to leave. “But, no, you can stay.”
She didn’t look at me, but smiled anyway. “I know.”
I leaned back in the chair, taking a sip of my drink.
Othello cleared her throat. “The suspect’s name was R. Stiltskina…” I shot a sharp look at her, and she pointed at the TV. “I spoke to Dean. He’s waiting outside in the hall. Pacing.” She glanced at me. “He’s nervous about… your reaction. Or lack thereof…”
I nodded, setting down my glass, realizing that my drink was gone and I was desperately thinking of refilling it. “It’s his job.”
“No. The way he looks at you… you’re like a son to him… It’s not just his job.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “I know. I’m being dramatic.”
She shrugged. “Understandable.” She hesitated. “May I ask a question?”
I nodded with mild resignation after a few moments.
“You asked if the Fae had taken children. Why?”
I sighed, rubbing my temples as I leaned forward. “Just something they used to do. And it feels like I’m getting more of those Amber Alerts than usual.”
I heard a sharp intake of breath and looked up to see a horrified look on her face.
I nodded. “Yeah. They used to take kids. Switch them out with Changelings – or Fae. Then they had a plant that would be raised in our world, able to wreak havoc later. And they would raise the mortal child in a world of monsters. Twofer.”
She shivered, and then straightened her shoulders resolutely. “Let’s go for a walk.”
I laughed. “Just like that? My terrorist fiancée rampages an airport with a bloody sword, without letting me know she’s in town, and… you want to go for a walk?” I asked, smiling despite myself.
She nodded. “It’s not that I want to go for a walk, but that it might be nice for you. I figured you could do with less crazy. Walks are the opposite of crazy.” She paused. “And I do miss this rambling old pile.”
She didn’t comment on our past dalliances. That we had once had a thing together, and that she had spent a fair share of time here. And I wasn’t about to bring it up either. She knew we were over. That I loved Indie. That I had proposed to her. That she had said yes. But then… “Fine. Let’s go.” I grumbled, more to myself, as I halted my train of thought. Apparently, I didn’t know my fiancée all that well if she was making a terrorist debut at the local airport, under an alias that was obviously a message to me.
R. Stiltskina.
Very close to Rumpelstiltskin, whom she had helped me vanquish.
She wanted me to know she was here. But she hadn’t reached out to me.
I stood, holding out my hand. Othello downed her drink, poured another, and then poured me a refill. I began to protest, but she calmly held the drink out anyway. I sighed. One more couldn’t hurt. Thinking about our walk, I had an idea.
“Let me show you something…” I said, leading her out of the office and past Dean, who simply stared at me holding hands with Othello as I led her into the depths of my mansion. I wasn’t going to do anything stupid.
Even if Indie was a terrorist wanted by the FBI.
And that she hadn’t called me.
And that I was holding hands with an incredibly beautiful young woman I used to have relations with.
But I could still sense the question in Dean’s eyes.
And to be honest, a small, small part of me ran with the idea. And it wasn’t the Dark Presence. It was all Nate. I ignored it, and decided to just relax and have a good time with an old friend. Things were going to get hectic soon. I needed a break. A diversion.
Nothing more…
Chapter 14
“This is incredible!” Othello gasped after I opened the door to Ichabod’s office beneath the uncharted sublevels of the mansion. An area that was not in the formal blueprints.
Her eyes quested the room, taking in the skulls, candles, a globe, naval navigation equipment, and various other random collectibles – as if we had entered the room of Indiana Jones. Or Sherlock Holmes at 221b Baker Street. Bizarre paintings and faded newspaper clippings decorated the walls in a random hodge-podge that could only make sense to the original inhabitant. Other than cleaning up the place, I hadn’t touched a thing.
It felt… soothing. Tranquil.
And I didn’t know what was dangerous to touch.
Othello darted to one of the bookshelves, scanning the dozens of titles, then gasped as her eyes caught upon the adjoining room full of priceless gems sitting about like so much trash. I had left the door open. Actually, it was a bookshelf that doubled as a concealed door. I hadn’t bothered hiding anything, because no one even knew about the sublevel, or how to get here. Well, no one outside my circle of trust, anyway. Dean and Mallory knew. And Ichabod and Indie. But I had a pair of Guardians roaming the halls just in case.
But now that Ichabod and Indie were supposedly back in town, and bloodthirsty terrorists, perhaps it would be wise to conceal the treasure. Ichabod had supposedly gifted me the treasure – collected fortunes from a misspent youth – to use to build an army, buy favor, basically a war chest. But I didn’t really want to go to war. I sighed. With the two suddenly showing back up in St. Louis under a bizarre terrorist-type display, who knew if his plans for the gems had changed? After all, my last talk with Ichabod had revealed his burning vendetta to hunt down and destroy the elusive Syndicate – a group that had employed the Brothers Grimm and Rumpelstiltskin. They were so elusive and dangerous that we weren’t even supposed to talk about them.
And Ichabod had a real hard-on for taking them down. He had made it his life’s purpose after surviving the Dark Realm with the Brothers Grimm. It was fair to say that whatever he was doing in town tied into the Syndicate somehow. I let out a breath. I would deal with the gems later. Or have Dean or Mallory hide them with the Macallan. Even I wouldn’t be able to find it after that.
I sat down in the chair behind the desk, and lit the fireplace with a thought before considering my curse. Using magic was not smart now. I only had a limited supply. I needed to remember that until I figured out how to rescue the girl. A chimera. A very dangerous little girl.
“So, what’s up with you and Death?” I asked distractedly.
Her shoulders tightened before she turned to face me. “I’m not sure. Do you think it… unwise?”
I thought about that. And the gift box I had seen both of them with. She must have left it upstairs, because she didn’t have it now. “Honestly, I have no idea. I think he’s a good guy. As good as any of us are, I guess. Still, he is a Horseman.”
She was nodding, mind distant, as she sat down before me. But she changed the subject before I could press further. “What do you need from me, Nate?”
I frowned.
“Everyone seems to be thinking about themselves, and not about you. It must be terribly traumatic for you,” she teased, smiling as she idly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She was still wearing her formal clothes, not having had time to change after Rufus’ arrival. She wore it well, looking relaxed, and scandalously beautiful. Which I absolutely did not need to notice.
“How about you just make sure the deal goes off without a hitch.”
She nodded, face growing serious. “Everything is goin
g according to plan. We still need to talk to Tomas about what he found.” She paused, looking up at me. “Well, don’t you worry about that. I’ll take care of Tomas. You just sit there and try to look pretty.” She grinned. “If you think you can manage that.” I chuckled as her eyes drifted to the gems in the other room. “Am I correct in assuming that this treasure will provide the necessary capital?”
I nodded. “Yes. I’ll need you to liquidate it. Cleanly. Discreetly. Check with Dean later, just in case I decide to move it… since we have guests in town.”
She shrugged, not elaborating on my reference to Indie and Ichabod. “Of course. Sticking with the same name you mentioned?”
“Grimm Technologies, for the public. But I’ll probably still just call it Grimmtech for short.”
She nodded. “The paperwork all to your satisfaction?”
I smiled, nodding.
“Then I think we’re set. But what else do you need? Not for business. What do you, Nate, need?” she asked, emphasizing my name. “Not the billionaire tycoon. The man.” She took a sip of her drink, watching me.
I thought about that. For a good long while, ignoring the faint whispers of the Dark Presence urging lewd ideas in my ears. Which wasn’t good, in and of itself. The cane was several floors above us, yet I still felt his influence. “A friend,” I managed with a whisper. Sir Muffle Paws sauntered into the room at that moment, likely having followed us after failing to catch the sprites, and deciding to hunt down the larger, dumber humans as an afternoon snack.
Othello nodded. “I can do that,” she offered with a pearly smile, eyeing Sir Muffle Paws. “Where did you buy a lynx? And why?”
I smiled. “He bought me, actually. Saved a bunch of Bible School Students from a warzone.”
She blinked. “Is he… magical?”
Sir Muffle Paws flicked his tail into the air, and turned his back on her. I frowned at the cat.
“Not that I know of. He just helped the little girls feel safe during an attack outside my shop.” Then I smiled. “Actually, it was Baba Yaga who attacked me,” I said, remembering her penchant for Russian folklore.
Beast Master: A Novel in The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series (The Temple Chronicles Book 5) Page 8