I wiped my eyes and Pan hissed a warning, grasping my forearm before I could do it again. “The balm,” he reminded me. “You had burns.”
I frowned at him, and realized that his face looked very, very concerned. Talon handed him the compact mirror from the nearby desk – something I had found buried in one of the back drawers from hundreds of years ago. Pan handed it to me, showing me my reflection. My face was slightly red as if I had just finished a long run. Not serious burns, but definitely noticeable. My skin felt tight, and it shone from Pan’s magical balm.
“Why…” I coughed, clearing my throat. “Why didn’t you simply heal me?” I rasped, pocketing the mirror clumsily.
He studied me, debating something that he didn’t share out loud. “You were… unpredictable. I didn’t want to cause you concern if you woke up and sensed magic touching you.”
I slowly nodded, but I must have still looked confused, because Talon piped up helpfully. “You know, from when you killed an entire battalion of Fae and sent the Queens running.”
I turned to look at him, my memory returning. Then I realized we were alone. “We have to go back! The others—”
“Are fine,” Pan said soothingly, placing a hand on my chest. “You’ve been out for sixteen hours.” He held me down more forcefully, sensing my sudden panic at hearing how long I had been asleep.
Talon spoke. “We showed up seventeen minutes after everyone saw us leave,” he said, making sure I was paying attention. “We anticipated much worse before we left. Days, weeks, months. It hasn’t even been a full day. We’re still ahead of the Makers.”
I grunted, still anxious.
“Only Dean, Carl, Tory and the Reds know we’re back. That’s it.”
“I think he imagines that trumpets herald his arrival wherever he walks,” Pan muttered.
I shot him a glare, but seeing the smile on his face, I finally relaxed enough for him to remove his hand from my chest. “What happened… at the end?” I asked, my memories still spotty.
Talon was shaking his head wonderingly. “You… made a name for yourself. Killed so many people. It was truly breathtaking…”
Pan cleared his throat. “You… used the hammer. The one I told you to hide.”
“It wasn’t like he had much choice,” Talon argued hotly. “They tried to take away our wild sides – and almost succeeded. But whatever you did stopped them. It was…” his voice trailed off into a whisper, and I saw the faint scars from forehead to cheek, through each eye. “Glorious…”
I let out a nervous grunt, head jerking to the side. Pan placed his hand on my thigh, catching my attention. I looked up to see him pointing towards the Round Table. I followed his hand to see my satchel sitting there, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“I don’t understand what I did…” I admitted. “I just reacted. They almost had us. Even me.”
Pan nodded, face distraught. “They tried to take away the gifts the Fae World had given your friends. For a moment, they were as they entered – still dangerous, but not strong enough to fight off the horde before them. Then you cut their power off somehow, so they tried to take away your wild side. After that… you kind of… well, used the hammer to share your feelings…”
I blinked back at him, not remembering. Really, up until seeing the Queens, I was clear-headed. But after that was just frozen images, like strobe light memories. “What do you mean?”
“They hit you with their power, trying to take your savage side. It hurt you, but didn’t work as intended. Because it couldn’t. You are Wylde. Then you touched the hammer and laid waste to… pretty much everyone. You took your name in fact – Wylde Fae. The world exploded in lightning and everyone died. Except the Queens. I still don’t know how they made it, but I’m glad they did. As much as I despise them, the world needs them,” he said in a lecturing tone.
I nodded absently. “I agree. They told me about that once…” I said, trying to remember what had happened before I had woken up. “Everyone is okay?”
Pan nodded, a faint smile on his face. “More than okay, considering.” Knowing me well, he continued. “They maintained their… gifts. The Reds were quite taken with Yahn,” he said.
“Which Alucard absolutely loved,” Talon purred, practically salivating.
I tried to smile, but my face felt too tight, sensitive to the touch, and even the slightest of movements hurt. “Well, I think I’m good. Mind healing me? I’d rather not look like the world’s worst sunburn victim.”
Pan was watching me warily. “I’m not sure that’s wise. The power that came out of you… It should have simply melted your body. But all you received were topical burns. That’s…”
I grunted. “Not possible. Yeah,” I sighed. “I’m hearing that more and more often.”
When it was obvious they intended to sit beside me until I went back to sleep, I cleared my throat. “I need to speak to Death.” I had a request for the bastard – one they didn’t need to know.
That was absolutely the opposite of what they had expected. They both tried to argue, but I raised a hand. “Either you get him here, now, or I call Grimm and find him myself.”
Silence stretched for quite some time before Talon grunted in displeasure. “As you wish.”
Which left Pan and me alone in the Sanctorum. He avoided direct eye contact, pretending to do small tasks around the room. I watched him, not giving him a moment of respite.
“God’s balls, boy. What?” he finally snapped.
I smiled faintly at his turned back, considering what I wanted to ask. “I’m not Thor.”
He flinched, slowly turning to face me. His face was blank. “Okay.”
“I’m not Thor,” I said more forcefully.
“As you just said,” Pan said carefully.
“I’m not—”
“I think he heard you, boy,” a voice as cold as winter frost interrupted, and I actually felt snow striking my eyelashes. We both spun to see a, tall, gaunt, hooded figure standing beside a bear of a man with one eye. My fingers subconsciously shot to the necklace at my throat, and I felt a wave of relief as I touched the wooden disc. My Mask. I focused back on the newcomers.
Death and Odin.
I glared at them, forgetting Pan’s advice to stay in bed as I yanked back the blankets. After a quick look, I yanked the blankets back into place, scowling at Pan this time. He shrugged, and then turned to the two guests. He dipped his head respectfully, and then left the room.
“Hey. How are things?” I asked, my voice clipped.
They grunted noncommittally, seeming more interested in studying me from different angles as they began circling me in silence. I fidgeted slightly, trying not to look at Odin – who wore a silver eyepatch this time – while trying to make eye contact with the hooded figure, but the depths of his cloak were impenetrable.
“I can pull back the blanket again if you need a closer look, but turn down the snow-blower effect. I need to maintain some of my dignity,” I muttered to the Allfather.
He grunted, but didn’t speak, seeming to stare right through me. Then he turned to Death, staring into the hood. “Satisfied?” he asked. Silence filled the room as they stared at each other for a full minute. Finally, Death nodded.
I opened my mouth to demand an explanation, but they were suddenly gone, leaving me entirely alone. “What the living fuck?” I shouted, punching the stone floor beneath me. It cracked, which almost made me pee a little in surprise.
I glanced down to see my fist glowing with golden veins again, and the stone beneath it was cracked, leaving a small crater where I had struck.
The long litany of curses I shouted into the room next did not exactly go together.
But it was an impressive attempt.
Chapter 43
I had managed to find some clothes, and even put them on mostly correctly. My muscles were jelly, so it took some time to get them to respond to basic commands, but I’m a survivor.
Once confident I could make it a
cross the room – I verified this by squinting my face and eyeing the distance with one eye for a full minute – I hobbled over to the Round Table.
With a very real sense of unease, I reached into the satchel, expecting to find everything missing, despite what Pan had shown me about it. Because my memories of the fight had returned, and I remembered that I hadn’t put the war hammer back in the bag.
But I let out a breath of relief as I felt the haft. I didn’t dare grab it directly – I used a wadded-up cloth to handle it and set it down on the table. Then I pulled out the rest of the items I had put inside. I set the hourglass and the stone pyramid beside the war hammer, and then sat down before the table, propping my chin in my palms as I studied them.
They had all been encased in stone at one point.
All entirely different.
All given to me by my parents… with absolutely no instruction manual.
I started at the beginning of the line. The stone pyramid that was a replica of the Hand of God Indie had used to wake up Athena. I picked it up, inspecting it curiously. I was pretty sure it wasn’t actually a Hand of God, because there were a limited number of them, and it sounded like all of them had been accounted for.
So, what was it? Remembering how I had freed the war hammer from the stone, I reached out and touched it with a finger, drawing on Wylde. Nothing happened. I scooped it up and wandered over to the waterfall, holding it under the stream. I was surprised when the stone casing simply washed off, revealing a hollow, glass pyramid.
I stared at it for a few seconds, noticing a small hinged cap at the tip. I flicked it open with my thumb, waiting for the world to end. But nothing happened. I frowned at it and then made my way back to the Round Table, reaching into my satchel again. I pulled out the small bag that contained the dust from the real Hand of God, my hands shaking as I hefted it absently.
This was probably a very stupid idea. But no one was here to confirm that, so I carefully dumped the dust into the glass pyramid. It filled it up to the brim, and the crown snapped shut. The entire pyramid flashed with light, momentarily blinding me, and then all was silent. When I peeled open my eyes, the hinge was gone – not a seam in sight – and the glass pyramid was closed around the dust. I frowned, tapping my lips.
Had I just remade the Hand of God Indie had used?
I set it down nervously, scooping up the hourglass instead and leaning back into my chair. It wasn’t unusually heavy, but hearing its origin story made it feel like solid lead. An ancient artifact that had been in possession of the Fae. They valued it highly enough to start a war to retrieve it, but… did it truly belong to them? My parents had been in the business of retrieving dangerous or stolen items and storing them in the Armory.
So…
The obvious question was why hadn’t they stored the hourglass there? Why had they entrusted Mallory – Pan – to put it on their statue in the Mausoleum? Was there a specific reason? Did they know something would happen to the Armory? Was the hourglass even meant for me, or had they simply wanted to diversify their hoard a little, hiding a bit here and a bit there?
One thing I knew, it helped distort the time suck between worlds.
The first time I had gone Fae Side, I had been there during one night and day, but about seven weeks had passed in the real world. This time? I had been gone about the same length of time, I think… and only seventeen minutes had passed in my world.
Something about that bothered me.
Seventeen minutes…
Such an exact number. I frowned, mentally poking my brain to jog it like a primer button on a gas lawn mower.
Then it hit me. That was the exact amount of time that the Armory had remained open per visit before I had accepted stewardship of the place. Well, stewardship over Pandora, who actually ran the place. Once I had accepted that responsibility, the time-limit had dropped. But… the hourglass had never been inside the Armory, had it?
Then I thought about that a little more. Maybe it had been in the Armory. But someone had removed it at some point… maybe right after I had agreed to supervise Pandora. Maybe the hourglass had enforced the seventeen-minute time limit up until then. Which meant Mallory had then moved it to the Mausoleum for some reason. It was possible.
But that begged the question… what the living hell? Why?
I sighed, shaking my head as I turned the hourglass over in my hands. I tried to recall any mention of an hourglass from the various myth lore I had studied over the course of my life. I could only think of Father Time.
I sighed, shaking my head, not coming up with anything that seemed to fit – or at least nothing that gave me any solid answers. Maybe it was a Fae design, but I had never heard of it. At least it wasn’t anything obviously horrific that they had stolen centuries ago.
Then again… why had my parents needed to steal it so badly if it wasn’t that important or dangerous? The short answer was… they wouldn’t have.
I set it down carefully and moved onto the last item.
Instead of touching it, I stared at it. Despite the chaos it had unleashed against the Fae, it still resembled a crude hammer with a quality haft. As if the true weapon had been covered in concrete. Faint golden light still shone through in cracks, but I wasn’t about to test it by hitting it.
I didn’t think Falco would appreciate a detonation inside her soul. I realized my hand was hovering over it without me consciously choosing to do so, and that my veins were glowing with golden light again. The light within the hammer seemed to be glowing brighter in response.
I hissed, yanking my hand back with a nervous breath.
Instead of studying the hammer, my vision was locked onto my skin. The light had first appeared after I killed Athena, but I had received no answer on it. It had also seemed to be fading over time, only coming back when I was particularly angry. I also hadn’t heard the voice, or felt those dark sensations encouraging me to do bad things.
But near the war hammer, it seemed to be back in full force.
I stared at the word carved into the stone. Birthright.
My phone buzzed, startling me. It was sitting on a nearby table where I had left it before heading to the Fae. I climbed to my feet and answered it, recognizing the number.
“You found something?” I asked excitedly, glad for the distraction.
Van grunted. “Possibly. To be honest, I thought this was going to go to voicemail, but I wanted to give you an update just in case anyone was checking your messages. Haven’t you left for Fae yet?” he asked, sounding eager.
“Back already. Successful mission,” I said. “What have you found?”
He was completely silent, as if not comprehending my reply. Because it didn’t make any sense. I should have been gone much longer.
“Hello?”
He grunted, still struggling with my answer. “We’re scoping some things out, but it looks promising. We’ve been tracking names like you asked, and well, I don’t want to get your hopes up, so I won’t share details, but we think we found one of them. I’ll keep you posted.”
I grinned excitedly. To score a win on something that wasn’t life or death made me so happy. Just once, I was ahead of the game. Even though there wasn’t really a game, but with Pan mentioning a tie between my parents and England, I was suddenly unsure I wanted to find out what they had been looking into.
My parents hadn’t known about this room with the round table, so whatever they found couldn’t have been tied to it. But still. I had a sinking feeling. My parents had found something in England that had sent them off to Fae for the hourglass, resulting in my birth, and full-circle, giving them the other thing they had been looking for. The Catalyst, as they had called it.
Me.
But I also didn’t want to share that with Van and Baba Yaga. Not because I didn’t trust them, but because the fewer people who knew about it, the better.
“Just be careful over there. I know you’re a badass, but if you even get a whiff of something feeling o
ff, I need you to run and observe from a distance. We really don’t know what we’re doing here, or even if there’s anything to do. But you can bet your ass we aren’t the first to go looking for clues. Secret societies come to mind.”
Van grunted and I could hear Baba in the background, giving Van hell for something. “Yes, mother. You were right, I was wrong,” he muttered to her. I grinned. She had been listening in on the conversation and had warned him as well. Good. Meant I didn’t need to convince the both of them.
“You still have the copper rings I gave you, right?” I asked, hoping he hadn’t arrogantly decided to leave them behind.
“Yeah. I’m not a fan of being tracked, though,” he complained. I had given them rings to let me know where they were, just in case I needed to get to them in a hurry. Or on a more macabre note, if I needed to retrieve their remains.
“Just wear them. I’m paying you well for this, so humor me.”
“I know. Just chafes. Anyway, we’ll keep you posted. Chicken foot sends his love,” he added, and then hung up as Baba squawked at him in the background. I smiled, shaking my head as I set the phone down.
“You called?” a familiar voice spoke from directly behind me.
I jumped, falling back into the desk to see Death had arrived. He wore tight-fitting black jeans and a Morningstar is my Mayor shirt. I glared back at him, trying to calm my racing heart. “You need to wear a bell or something. You can’t just sneak up on people without warning,” I scolded.
He blinked, and then arched a brow, lip curling into a smile. “Oh, really…”
I frowned, realizing how stupid my comment had been. That was kind of his job description. To arrive unannounced at the moment of one’s death, and take their souls to the Underworld. “I’m still getting you a bell,” I muttered, accepting his outstretched hand and letting him pull me to my feet. “What’s up with the wardrobe change?” I asked, walking away from him and the table, trying to organize my thoughts.
I realized I didn’t hear him following me, so glanced over my shoulder to find him standing where he had helped me to my feet. He was frowning. “I beg your pardon?”
War Hammer: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 8 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 23