I ignored the whimpers of the gorilla behind me, walking towards the goat, eager to see an Angel kick ass. Like a Vision of Righteousness, his wings flexed out, and he soared straight at the weregoat, who was now scrambling to his hooves on the stage. The Angel clutched something to his chest, and I felt anticipation building in my soul. He was going to go all out. Smite the shit out of this kid.
Heh. Goats. Kid.
“Angel stuff!” I cheered, voice brimming with excitement. “He’s going to do Angel stuff!”
Eae wouldn’t kill – that wasn’t his way – but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious to see what the Angel could do when he put his Sunday School pants on.
And you would be right if you said it caught the goat and I entirely by surprise when he sailed just above the shifter’s head and out the giant window, shattering the brand-new glass as he bravely fled the carnage.
Because he hadn’t been holding some Heavenly power to his chest, ready to lay the smack down on the weregoat. He had been holding Greta, helping her escape the chaos.
I realized this, because on their way by, Greta got one last good swing in, decking the goat in the jaw with her million-pound purse, knocking the goat out cold. She must have had a Gutenberg Bible in there because the kid went down.
I felt the ground shaking, and turned to see the gorilla pounding my way, having overcome his injuries, or at least ignoring them long enough to attempt at least one successful strike while I was distracted by the fleeing Angel. I flung up a flicker of power, unleashing an elemental whip of ice at an exposed beam in the ceiling. I didn’t want to play with any more fire, not in Tory’s brand new building. I jumped, and yanked my hand on the whip, hurling myself over the gorilla as he raced to where I had just been standing. I dropped to the ground behind him, releasing my whip from the beam, and flung it at his legs.
Then I fucking jerked the whip like I was trying to start a stubborn lawnmower for the first time in six months. His forward momentum slammed his face into the ground, knocking him instantly unconscious.
I knew this because his body immediately shifted back to his now-naked human form. I looked over to the stage and saw that the goat was also just a skinny kid again, sans tuxedo.
“Who wants some?” I shouted to the empty room, holding up my arms, even though no one had been present to see my impressive display of magic. I heard bleating and shouts from outside, and cursed, hoping that none of the shifters had broken out of the room and gone about murdering the petting zoo…
Or the fleeing guests.
My suit was torn, and I was pretty sure I had split the seam of my pants, because I felt a cool draft in my danger-zone region. I craned my neck to try and get a look at my rear before I dared run outside.
That’s when I saw the charging chimera racing my way in utter silence on her padded leonine feet, head down on all fours so that her horned ram’s head was aimed directly at my back. Shit. Distracted by Eae’s Divine battle tactics, I had forgotten there were three shifters in the room.
She hit me.
It hurt.
I flew.
I landed on my ass, bounced, flipped and hit my head before skidding across the floor on my back. I heard a leonine roar, and blinked stars from my vision. My kidneys ached, likely ruptured or something, but I couldn’t do anything about it. The blow to my head had really rattled me.
I stared through the haze of stars and saw the chimera stalking closer – on two legs this time – her lion-headed chest snarling at me, drooling droplets of flame, and her cobra tail swaying back and forth over her back, dripping venom from its fangs. The hypnotic motion lulled me into a daze, and I just stared at it, wondering why I had been scared.
Because chimeras were both terrifying and beautiful. A merging of three beasts. Its tail was a serpent, the tip a hooded, venomous cobra. With the body of a lion, it could either crouch down on all fours and spit fire at you from its maned lion head, or it could tuck that head down and nail you with its third form, a horned ram head, which sat just above the lion’s head. Or it could stand on two legs and make you pee your pants as you stared at three monster heads ready to roast you, poison you, then head butt you before eating you alive.
A red blur of shiny scales hammered into the chimera from stage left, interrupting my thoughts. I groaned, the sudden movement snapping me out of it, but I was still sluggish in the muscle department. I lifted my head to see how close I was to death, expecting to see a few ribs poking out from my side or a hole in my gut from the chimera’s head-butt.
But all I saw was that I wasn’t wearing any shoes. I blinked several times, head throbbing, as I frowned at my black dress socks in confusion. My big toe poked out from a hole that hadn’t been there when I put them on earlier. Unable to comprehend, I instead looked up as the sounds of continued battle raged nearby. Two red dragons now darted back and forth, shooting brief, precise gouts of flame at the chimera, taunting it, keeping it distracted. As soon as the chimera lashed out at one, the other would hit it from the opposite side – by flame, claw, or even a sudden swipe of dragon wing.
The chimera roared, hissed, and bleated in frustration.
Then a single arrow hammered into its leg. But it was small. Not an arrow. A dart.
The dragons stilled, watching the chimera as it struggled for a few seconds, and then finally crashed to its knees with an exhausted purring noise. The dragons paced back and forth for a few more moments around the fallen monster, sniffing, grunting, and watching. Then the deadly beast shimmered, and suddenly a small, naked teenaged girl lay on the floor.
I heard racing footsteps, so I struggled to sit up. “You’re awesome. Unstoppable. Your socks aren’t ripped, and your pants don’t have a hole in the ass,” I slurred, trying to motivate myself for round two. “Now, where are your shoes?” I said, finally managing to prop myself up.
But it wasn’t an enemy this time. I saw the Huntress sliding on her knees in her fancy dress, tearing her stockings on the way, and finally bumping into the naked chimera girl. She yanked out the dart, and slapped her ass hard enough to make her scream from a dead sleep.
“Heh. That was funny,” I mumbled, glancing back at the massive hole in the wall. A gentle breeze carried in the sound of sirens, louder than earlier. I shook my head, trying to clear away the last of my dizziness. “Probably not smart,” I grunted, loud enough for the Huntress to hear me. “Seeing as how shock and surprise often turns on beast mode…”
“Shut up, Nate. I’ve been doing this for a while.” She turned back to Camilla, the young chimera shifter, who was panting, eyes darting about wildly. She saw the destruction, especially the missing wall, and began to sob.
“I was doing so well!” she moaned, dropping her face to her palms in frustration.
“There, there, child. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.” The Huntress followed her gaze to the wall. “That wasn’t you. The event was… tampered with.”
With that, the two dragons abruptly flickered, and were suddenly healthy, nubile, naked young girls. The Reds. Tory’s adopted daughters. They were at the age when I knew it was wrong to look – almost seventeen – so I quickly averted my eyes.
That being said, anyone who simply saw them naked wouldn’t have had any thoughts about age. Because their, erm, developments kind of murdered that thought.
As if on cue, the weregorilla groaned, shaking his head slowly. I hadn’t realized he had woken. He tried to prop himself up on his broken forearms, gasped in pain, and collapsed back to the ground. Instead, he turned his head from side to side, trying to see what had happened and who was talking. He immediately noticed the three naked girls, then turned to me. “Boobs,” he whispered, entirely serious. Then he passed out.
I chuckled.
“Nate! Stop laughing at the boy and help him! And where are your damn shoes?” the Huntress snapped.
I growled, finally climbing to my feet. “I don’t need no stinking shoes,” I muttered, stepping over the naked boy.
I’d have to wait until he woke up to tell him I had hopefully put a stop to any more talk of the weregorillas wanting to adopt him into their gang.
I approached the podium. I needed to get a sample of Tory’s drink. Maybe even a fingerprint from the person who had given it to her. Amazingly, the glass lay on the ground, broken, but the stem was still intact. I found a napkin, and reached to pick it up so that I wouldn’t contaminate the evidence.
Then I saw that the napkin had writing on it. Which was weird, because all the napkins at the event had been plain white.
I carefully flipped it over, since it had a damp wine stain on it, and I didn’t want to rip it. Someone had scribbled on it with a ballpoint pen. And rage instantly consumed me as I read it.
@StLouis’FavoriteSon – How you like them apples? #SyndicatePartyCrashers
“Motherfu—” I began, but suddenly froze as a literal icy chill swept over the back of my neck. A minor ward I had set up had just been triggered.
But the ward wasn’t protecting anything here. It was at Chateau Falco. My home.
Someone was trying to steal my book, Through the Looking-Glass. My direct journal to the Mad Hatter. A truly dangerous SOB. But to get to the room with the book, they must have already broken into my house and taken out my safeguards. Both human and magical safeguards. Which shouldn’t have been possible.
Regardless, someone had just done it.
I ripped open a hole in reality, a Gateway, back to my house. A vertical ring of fire erupted before me, sparks spitting out from the edges, before being immediately sucked into the opening, indicating the intended direction of travel. I glanced over my shoulder to let the Huntress know what was going on. “I’ll be back. I have to—”
“No!” the Huntress shouted, eyes wide as she stared past me. I was suddenly yanked sideways by an unseen force gripping my sleeve, ripping the fabric, but still maintaining their hold on me. I felt a sharp stab in my neck, and then the world faded to black.
But I was pretty sure I also heard my pants-seam tear further before everything disappeared.
Chapter 7
The blinding sun struck me like a ray gun, seeming to parboil my flesh. It felt like a hot summer day, but the sudden change made it feel like a thousand degrees. The remains of my tattered suit whipped in the hot wind, and the ground felt fiery to my feet. I looked down, squinting in the reflective glare to see my toe still peeking out from my sock as I lifted my feet off the ground. My other sock was simply gone now.
What the hell?
The ground was white, and I was sitting chained to a metal folding chair. And the hot metal chair did not feel good on my ass, seeing as how only a thin layer of underwear prevented it from immediately sizzling. Because now I was sure that my pants had been ripped down the rear. And that the chair must have sat out in the sun for a while before they plopped me onto it. Whoever they were. I squirmed a bit, trying to hide my discomfort. I squinted less now, eyes slowly adjusting to the extreme brightness all around me.
It was kind of similar to when it snowed outside on a sunny day, and staring out at the snow physically hurt your eyes at first, because it was almost like one giant mirror for the sun. This wasn’t exactly the same, but it was close. The air was dry, torrid, and heat waves shimmered in the distance as I got my bearings, able to do a little more than squint after a few moments of struggling against the chains, which were also hot to the touch from the sun.
I noticed three robed figures suddenly before me.
“I feel underdressed,” I muttered, ratting the chains loudly.
They didn’t respond. Merely stared at me from behind their very familiar silver masks. Rings of color flickered here and there in my peripheral vision, and I wasn’t quite sure if it was from my over-use of magic, or an after-effect of whatever they had pricked me with. Because I had a sharp headache, like a hangover. The colors weren’t there if I looked directly at where they had been in my peripheral vision.
Almost like I had been pharmaceuticalized.
Yeah, I know that’s not a word. But I stand by it.
I scowled at the nearest figure. He or she wore a silver mask that looked to be laughing. The other had a frowny face, and the last was a mask of surprise or horror. I knew them. These ass-clowns wore masks that signified human emotions. They were Academy Justices. The police of wizards everywhere. And I had pissed them off a time or two. Granted, most recently I had done it when I carried the title of Maker, and had been out of their… jurisdiction.
But now? Yeah, this wasn’t good. Because I was once again a wizard.
I measured up the first one from head to toe with a genuine scowl. “I don’t know if anyone has ever told you the truth, but you should know that your tiny prick was not impressive.”
He took a step closer, but one of the others – frowny face – held up a hand, barring his advance. None of them spoke, but the wizard did take a step back, rolling his shoulders as if ready to fight the moment he got the go ahead.
“Seriously. Hats off. You Templed me. Sucker punch and all.” I pointedly glanced down at my chains. “Just imagine I’m doing the world’s longest slow clap.” They continued staring back at me from beneath their masks. For a long time. “Right. Is this a staring contest? Because I can’t tell if I’m winning.” I managed to wedge my naked toe into a loose chunk of white salt rock, and flung it at the laughing-faced Justice. The chunk of stone struck his forehead with a pinging noise, but he didn’t flinch. As I did this, I very discreetly slipped a hand into my pocket, since the chains were holding my hands at my sides, looped underneath the seat rather than behind the chair. I slipped on the piece of jewelry in my pocket and waited. For a whole minute.
Then I decided to run my mouth. “Where is the old bag? I presume that’s why I’m here. To speak with the old crone.” I glanced around us, taking in the white earth for miles in every direction, rock walls showing that we were in a canyon of sorts. “The Salt Flats? Utah?” I asked curiously. “Appropriate for murder, or being murdered,” I added, suggestively. I hoped they took it as a threat, rather than an admittance of my position.
Because I wasn’t dying today.
I began to whistle the Rolling Stones song, Time is on my side, yes, it is! I even crossed my ankles, leaning back in my seat, and allowing my eyes to drift closed.
“Cute. I can put that on your tombstone if you like. Ironic to the last,” a new voice whispered directly into my ear. I flinched instinctively, my tune falling to pieces. I heard one of the Justices snicker. Probably the laughing, tiny-pricked wizard.
“It’s the dame, head-bitch, Grandma herself—”
I felt magic surge beside me before her blow lashed out at my face. I smiled.
Because her blast of power struck an unseen force field around me, and she recoiled in pain. She stepped into view, cursing as she held her fist, which must have taken the brunt of the blow. Her Justices fidgeted as she shot scowls at them.
“Not their fault, lady. As much as I’d love to see you spank them. Because Smiley over there getting spanked in the salt flats would just plain do it for me,” I chuckled, winking at him. I moved my fist as much as the chains would allow, showing off my bracelet. “I brought my fisticuffs, wench.”
She glared down at it, then pointed at one of the Justices. “Remove it. Honestly, do I have to hold your hands?” she snarled.
The Fae cuff prevented magic from touching me. But I had made a few upgrades to it. Frowny stepped up and reached out to remove the bracelet. “I wouldn’t do that,” I began.
Like a curious moth to a bug zapper, Frowny went flying a dozen feet amidst an azure explosion of sparks. I wriggled a bit in my chair to avoid getting my ass scorched further by the sparks. They instead struck the salt earth and flared red for a second. I frowned at that, then looked up, shrugging at the Grand Master of the Academy.
“Science,” I grinned, “is fascinating.” If a look could ignite someone into a pile of ash, hers would have. Luckily, either she
couldn’t, or my fisticuffs were keeping me safe. “Well, as much as I’d love to stay and chat with magic’s rejects, I really do have other things to do. And it seems we’re at an impasse. You tried – like the brave cowards you are – to crash my party and kidnap me.” I shook my head. “Honestly, it was for the kids. Have you no shame?”
The Grand Master watched me. “You are right. We cannot make you do what we want. We underestimated you.” She shot a glare at her three Justices, who seemed to cringe. “But we could just leave you here.” Frowny was stumbling back up to the group. His mask was askew.
I frowned. “That wouldn’t be very nice…” I said, trying to show a little humility for the first time. Because she had a point. I was still chained up. And they were blocking my power. If they really felt like it, they could just wait me out. Let me die of heat stroke or dehydration.
“Then, let’s get straight to the point,” the Grand Master began.
“Look, do you have a name? I feel sexist calling you Grand Master.”
“My friends call me Grand Mistress,” she offered, deadpan.
I sighed. “Right. Okay. G Ma it is. So, why don’t you tell me what we’re doing here, and why you went terrorist on the Gala.”
She scowled at me. “Insolent little shit.”
“Thank you,” I said, my tone and face as sincere as I could manage.
She inclined her face skyward, closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath. “I really wish I could just kill you—”
“There’s actually a Facebook Group for that,” I interjected. “Not the Nate Temple Fans one. Those guys like me. Make sure you join the right one, or you’ll look like a crazy old—”
She stared daggers at me, cutting me short. “Luckily for you, it is not your time. Yet.” She said this last part under her breath, but loud enough for me to hear. Intentionally.
Tiny Gods: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 6 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 4