Rufus nodded, meeting my gaze, and took hold of his magic. I felt faint tingles on my arms as he swore his oath. Perfectly. No wiggle room. I felt the power settle around both of us like a warm blanket. Then he wisely released his power, and the sensation on my arms faded away. The Dark Presence murmured uncomfortably at the magic that had briefly touched my skin. I soothed his concern with a murmured response under my breath. When I looked up, Rufus was watching me with a frown. I shook off his look, mildly frustrated that I had spoken loud enough for him to hear me talking to myself.
“We’re both in the same boat. You renege, you lose your power. I renege, I lose my power.”
He nodded, and climbed to his feet. “What do you need me to do?”
I studied him. “You’re going to stick to Mallory’s hip. Do whatever he asks. Make him tea. Tuck him into bed. Wipe his ass,” I added, remembering Van’s comment. I prodded Rufus’ shoulder with my finger, hard. “Whatever he asks. And you’ll do this without a glimmer of disrespect. When I need anything further from you, I’ll let you know. For now, you’re his girl Friday.”
Mallory smiled approvingly. And I left to go meet up with the iron-toothed nightmare of a Russian witch, Baba Yaga.
Chapter 17
I knocked on the door of the old warehouse, shrugging deeper into my coat. I had my cane handle strapped to my belt, but other than that I was unarmed. I was here to ask a favor, and couldn’t risk picking a fight with the old hag. I didn’t have enough power, and frankly, she was pretty goddamned powerful, and I wasn’t sure what would work on her, magically speaking.
I had once fought her in a street, raining down hellfire on her, and it hadn’t fazed her in the slightest. I didn’t have the power to waste getting in a slugfest. Also, honey had worked better than a stick last time. I just needed to be sure I limited my drinking around her, lest I bring a horde of monsters to life.
And you can’t spell Russian without including the letters for vodka.
The door clicked as the lock disengaged, but it didn’t actually open, which was creepy. She knew I was here. Little tendrils of detritus whispered around me in tiny cyclones of cool November wind as I patiently waited. Was I just supposed to walk in? I waited another minute, listening to the sounds of the city behind me, cars whizzing by on the streets outside the alley, sirens blaring in the distance, people shouting at one another.
You know, city life. Night time in St. Louis. I just hoped I wasn’t too late to save a kid.
“To hell with this,” I muttered, and pushed the door open. Nothing tried to bite my face off, so I tentatively extended my boot through the threshold, surprised to feel no resistance. At least she hadn’t rigged the place to blow upon my entrance. “Baba Yaga?” I called out softly, but urgently, pushing my voice into the dark space. No one responded. I pulled out my phone and activated the flashlight, shining it into the murky gloom.
Crates, boxes, an old forklift, and even a few makeshift beds were tucked here and there. The building had long since been abandoned, long enough for squatters to occupy the space.
But there were no squatters now. Baba Yaga had seen to that.
I wondered why she was still in my city, and not in Russia, the Land of Optimism, Friendliness, and Big Dreams.
I had a feeling I was about to find out. Van’s warning about her not being the same since our battle whispered darkly in my ears. Foreboding. What had he meant?
“Baba?” I called out again, louder as I closed the door behind me. Dim streetlamps shone through several filthy windows in the back, but other than that, the place was dark, gloomy, and threatening. I pressed on, searching for the old witch, wondering if Van had lied, or been mistaken. I let out a breath, trying to avoid any stray pieces of glass, blades, trash, or any other obstacles underfoot. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised to trip over a body. Or a pile of bones. My breath fogged before my face, and I shivered. Was it getting colder?
I walked for a full minute, studying my surroundings. It was an old factory of some kind. Conveyor belts and ancient machinery filled the space. Metal racks, shelving, and broken crates created a landscape of the industrial world. I was familiar to it, having grown up around my father’s company, Temple Industries.
I heard a faint rustle behind a shelving unit and tensed. Then I caught the whiff of a slaughterhouse, as if the smell had been masked up until this point. “Hello? Baba? I’d recognize that cologne anywhere.” She didn’t respond, and I began to grow nervous. “It’s me, Temple.”
“I know it’s you, boy. Anyone else would be a pile of ashes right now.”
I smiled, rounding the corner. “It’s good to see you, Baba—” but I stopped, eyes wide. Baba was huddled over her Familiar, who was lying prostrate on a pile of pallets. The smell struck me like a slap, making my eyes water in an instant. Full-blown decay. Now that I was closer, I could hear his breath rattling. Let me clarify.
Baba Yaga lived in a house on chicken legs that could move about her forest. The thing was freaking alive.
But before I had met her, no one had told me that her house also doubled as her shadow. The thing was literally a creature that followed her around. Like Secret Service for the old, deadly crone. It was a frighteningly tall mass of torn, soiled, faded dark robes. It smelled like rotten meat more often than not, and had giant chicken legs that peeped out from beneath the robes. It also had the head of a giant Renaissance doctor mask. You know, those ones with the long, beak-like noses you see in old movies and video games. Its eyes were deep pits of swirling magic, and it was a violent, deadly, horrifying monster.
Home, sweet home.
Except now, it wasn’t a violent, deadly, horrifying monster.
It was… dying.
A spider web of cracks decorated the bone mask, and those cracks glowed with a crackling, violent violet light. I grimaced. That would be my fault.
Baba was hunched over the figure, holding a cup to its face, where its mouth should have been, although I hadn’t ever seen what lay beneath the mask – and definitely didn’t want to – I had never seen a mouth. Still, it was obvious that she was tending to him.
And that it wasn’t working.
“Should I come back?” I asked softly.
She slowly unfolded from her patient, set the cup down on another pallet, and turned to look at me, face devoid of any human emotion. The blank look that signified a rage so deep that the face couldn’t depict anything, so remained utterly dead instead. Her iron teeth glinted from the purple light emanating from her Familiar’s bone mask. The injury I had given it. Or him. Or her. Or whatever gender it identified itself as. The world was a confusing place these days. I wanted to make sure I was being respectful of the sanctity of gender-identification for real estate.
“Should you come back?” she repeated in a raspy hiss. “Why on earth would you ever want to leave?” She began slowly walking towards me. Her eyes locked on my forehead with a brief frown that slowly shifted to light amusement at my suffering. It still stung a bit. She continued. “After all, you and I have so much to discuss. You…” her voice caught, but she quickly regained it, “broke my house. Damaged my home with Outerfire. A force powerful enough to overcome your clever Dueling Grounds, permanently harming my Familiar.”
I had no idea what Outerfire was, and judging by the look on her face, she wasn’t open to explaining it. I swallowed, suddenly realizing I had grossly underestimated the situation. She was beyond irrational, and I had just waltzed on in like an old friend. “Listen, Baba. Things got a little out of control that night. We all tried to kill each other. Repeatedly.”
“Because you started a fight. With my master. Putting everyone in danger. Which we still are. Do you know who he worked for?”
I nodded, taking a step backwards, stumbling over a piece of wood. I caught myself, and tried to maintain my breathing, to discard my fear. “Listen. Everyone fucked up that night. But I didn’t know the severity of what I did to your house, or else I would have personall
y come here to make it right.”
She laughed darkly. “Oh, you would have loved that. To swoop in and save the day. No, I think I would like to see if your blood will heal my house. I’ll need quite a lot of it, I’m afraid.” And her hands erupted in flames as she began to advance on me.
I stood my ground, avoiding staring at the fire. Instead, I put on the arrogant, powerful face of a Temple. And sneered back, bluffing. “Sure you want to try that, witch? In another plane of existence – where according to the rules of the universe, no one should have been permanently harmed – I still managed to fatally wound your house.” She slowed. “So how much juice do you think I can wield now? Here? In our world? I’ve learned a lot since we last met…” I didn’t let loose a fanfare of magic. One, because I didn’t dare risk wasting it. Two, because sometimes the best threats are the ones left to the imagination.
She watched me for a few moments, breathing heavily. Then she shrugged. “He’s dying anyway. You may as well end both of us. I prefer to go down fighting.” And she took another step.
“As fun as that sounds, I propose a better alternative.”
“You have a few more seconds where I will be able to hear your voice. Then come the screams.”
“Life. Healing. A future,” I pressed, growing nervous beneath my calm façade.
The flames winked out. “What?”
I nodded. “I will heal your house. Reunite you. But I need a favor.”
Her eyes tightened. “I don’t do favors.”
“Consider it an exchange then. Wipe the slate clean.”
“Pah. Like you’ve done with Van and the Huntress,” she snarled. “I won’t be your friend. Your ally. Your Freak on a leash. Been there, done that.”
I shook my head. “I’m not asking you to. I need your help finding someone. Well, technically, I need your help finding some targets, and stealing those targets before my opponent can get to them. And in exchange, I’ll heal your Familiar.”
She frowned back. “What do I know about tracking people? You already have a pack of dogs for such things,” her voice trailed off, and then her gaze snapped back to me in realization. “Children…”
I nodded. “I need to save them before they can be kidnapped. I don’t have any specific targets, but I know the type of person my opponent is hunting. He’s a collector. I have other sources working on it, but their information might come too late. Or not at all. You, on the other hand, might be able to tell me where and when it will happen… before it happens.”
Honestly, I had no idea if such a thing were even possible. But if anyone knew dark magic, and children, it was Baba Yaga. Worst case, she could possibly identify where she would go if she was looking to abduct children, and I could at least feel confident that the Beast Master thought the same way as the witch, and I might get lucky. If this didn’t pan out, I would have to rely on Van. Which would take time. And that was even if he was successful getting the job.
She began to laugh. Hard. Then she turned back to her Familiar, striding over to him to check his pulse, listen to his breath, lick his nose (gross), and lay a comforting palm on his chest. I let her do this in silence. “You mean to take on the Beast Master…” she chuckled softly.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
I blinked. “That’s it? You’re not going to run away screaming?”
Her misty gaze rose to mine and she shook her head. “He took something from me. A long time ago. Someone dear to me. And I despise who he works for.” She shot me a meaningful look, implying the Syndicate. “And these aren’t Regular children, but Freaks. I draw the line there. You heal my Familiar, and I’ll help you prevent more kidnappings.”
I hesitated, deciding to play a risk. “I can’t heal your Familiar yet.” I sucked in a breath. “Wait, did you say more?” Was I too late?
But she had only heard my first comment. “Then you shall die. I knew you were a liar.” And the fire was back, her fingers now claws of flame, itching to grip my throat.
“No, listen.” I swallowed, realizing I had to tell the truth. “I was cursed. My power is limited at the moment. Once it’s used up, it’s gone. The only way I can get it back is to defeat the Beast Master. If I use my power to heal your Familiar, I stand no chance stopping him.” Another thought hit me. “Stopping them,” I added, referring to the Syndicate in hopes that it would sway her decision. I tapped my chest, then held out my arms. “See for yourself.”
She didn’t even hesitate, despite the frown on her face. She strode right up to me, and punched me in the stomach. Except her hand turned misty and went straight inside of me. I grunted in discomfort as her fingers twisted, pulled, and prodded at my very soul.
The Dark Presence roared in outrage, and I found myself struggling to keep him in check as well as survive the horrible sensation. I managed, barely, to calm down the creature inside of me.
The physical feeling of her hand inside me was that of my stomach instantly turning into a commercial laundry machine. All in all, unpleasant. But I gritted my teeth, and suffered her mild payback. She stepped back with a satisfied grunt. Then looked up at me appraisingly, and I could tell the she had sensed the creature residing inside of me. But she didn’t comment on that. “That’s nasty magic.” She turned back to her Familiar, studying him in silence for a few moments. “You’re telling the truth, but I refuse to help you now if you cannot help me now.”
I sighed in defeat. I would have to do this the old-fashioned way. Relying on Van’s word. A man who had recently tried to kill me. “I understand.” I turned to go, then called over my shoulder. “Know that once this is finished, I will come back to heal your Familiar. I swear it.”
“Then will be too late…” her voice was a whisper.
My feet stopped. Goddamn it.
I was forcing myself to take another step when her voice called back out. “Wait.”
I turned to face her, and saw her eyes suddenly dancing with hope. “There might be a way.” I was entirely sure that I didn’t like the sound of that. “Ganesh.”
I just stared at her for a moment, not understanding. “I’ve never met him.”
She strode closer, suddenly eager. “You own the Fight Club.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about…” I replied lamely, reminded of Achilles’ punishment for talking about the Fight Club.
“Don’t play games, Maker.” And I was suddenly airborne. I landed in a moldy, rotten, stained stack of pallets that smelled like the target of a decades-long pissing contest. They crunched and cracked under my weight, and the urine smell intensified. Baba’s sympathy for my plight was overwhelming.
Meaning, she kept right on talking. “Ganesh has a belt. It healed him once, and is said to have healing powers for anyone who wears it.” I scrambled to my feet, gagging at the stench, eyes watering as it combined with the already disgusting slaughterhouse smell.
“Like I said,” I wheezed, getting as far away from the pallets as possible. “I’ve never met Ganesh.” I stepped on something squishy, and when I looked down, I saw wriggling… things erupting from an old take-out bag. I shuffled a few more steps away, taking a deep breath. “Or any other elephant men. You expect me to just stride up to him and, what, de-pants him? Take his belt? He’ll gore me alive, and then eat me.”
“He attends the fights. He is friends with Asterion.”
“What fights?” I attempted to sound sincere.
“Don’t deny it. Van told me everything. Before Achilles incorporated his strict rules.”
“Fine. I still don’t think I have any chance of stealing his belt.”
She shrugged. “That is my price. Get the belt. I’ll help you save the other children.”
I sighed, having no idea how I was going to make this work. I had enough on my plate already. But I had no choice. “Deal. But what do you mean, other children?”
“The Beast Master has already acquired his first victim from your city. A red dragon.”
My
heart stopped. The Reds. I had to call Tory. Now.
Baba turned away, calling over her shoulder. “Tick tock, Temple. Tick tock…”
“She’s the fucking crocodile, and I’m Captain Hook,” I muttered, turning away.
“I can still hear you…” her voice drifted to me as I exited the building.
But all I could think about was the Reds. Had they been taken? And I also had to figure out how to pickpocket a Hindu God. Well, more precisely, how to de-pants him and nab his belt. Easy-peasy.
Chapter 18
It was early morning, an hour before dawn, and I sat in my office, thinking. I had immediately checked in with Tory after meeting Baba, and had been relieved to hear the Reds were safe. Although my call had almost given her a panic attack.
But hearing the teens were safe had only brought up more concerns.
I had called Raego to ask if any of his dragons had gone missing.
They hadn’t.
Which was weird, because there were no rogue loner dragons in the city. Raego had made sure of it. He was kind of a Type-A personality in his domination of other dragons, and since he was the Obsidian Son – the ruler of all dragons everywhere – he would have known. Not having anything else to go on, I had chalked up the current score.
Beast Master – 1. Team Temple – 0.
Othello was fast asleep after spending most of the night fielding phone calls and reviewing legal documents. She had also caught up with Tomas. After arguing with me for ten minutes about not being tired, she had abducted Sir Muffle Paws out of spite on her way to bed. I could still remember his protesting purrs as he was dragged away, rubbing his chin against hers in a last-ditch plea for her to release him, sheathing and unsheathing his claws into the meat of her shoulder like he was trying to hit the Chakra that would make her magically release him. I was pretty sure that’s what it had all meant anyway. I didn’t understand cats, but I was observant.
Beast Master: A Novel in The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series (The Temple Chronicles Book 5) Page 10