I wondered if I would even be able to leave if he didn’t want me to. He had mentioned that the Mask would let me in and out at my leisure, but I didn’t know – and didn’t want to know – how to use it. He flicked his head up, hair flinging back. “Apologies. She gets persnickety when they are brought up.” I nodded slowly, barely breathing. “The betrayer told me about that. He tricked you. An illusion,” he said offhandedly. I blinked, remembering my first encounter with Rumps, when he had forced me to give him a Seeder Grimm amulet – one that could make other amulets – in exchange for saving Indie’s life. By suddenly opening a portal to the Grimms.
I had heard the army of Grimms shouting at me, and had instantly complied. The Hatter continued now, snapping me from my thoughts, but I silently imagined doing worse to Rumps than the Hatter had done to him so far. “Only Jacob Grimm’s amulet is strong enough to bring them all back.” I nodded slowly, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. “To create the link the fiend needs to find them.” He strummed his violin again, and the sound was sad. “But you bested him and took him here to my world. Where he cannot call out to them. That’s what the fiend told me, anyway.” He frowned to himself. “Unless, of course, you were stupid enough to bring Jacob’s amulet here, and the fiend escapes.”
“No, of course not.”
“Good. He and the amulet must be in the same world for him to call out to them. Which would call the Grimms to the world he is in.” He grinned, looking feral. “And that would lead them here.” He flashed teeth at me, looking anticipatory. “And I have many guest rooms…”
I leaned back with a shiver. He wasn’t even remotely alarmed at the possibility of hundreds of Grimms showing up in his home. In fact, he seemed to want that. But the added benefit was that Rumps would have to be free from his imprisonment, and have Jacob’s amulet. Which was never going to happen. Because even if he did break out, and somehow managed to best the Hatter – which was impossible – he needed Jacob’s amulet, which was embedded in Indie’s arm, and I was never going to bring her here. Since I had the keys to the place, I could guarantee it.
I felt much better now. Even not knowing Indie’s intentions, the possibility of her bringing them over had been terrifying.
But there was always the chance that she had merely wanted to obtain some artifact from one of the fallen Grimms. Maybe something Ichabod knew of since he had spent so much time around them. But I had checked all their bodies, removing anything that may have had some power tied to it. And I had moved those items to a safe that Ichabod couldn’t know of. That no one knew of. Not even Indie. Literally, no one knew of it, or would suspect it.
And now she couldn’t even set foot on my property without all hell breaking loose.
So, with a billion safe-guards in place, I felt a very heavy weight lifting from my shoulders.
Now, I just had to figure out how to fend off the Academy and the Syndicate. And fire-face, whichever side he had been on. And I had to keep the shifters safe from the Academy. I sighed. It was like the universe was trying to guarantee that my birthday sucked donkey wang.
“We could always… kill him,” I offered gently.
The Hatter snorted. “He’s my roommate. I’m not killing my roommate.” I opened my mouth to press the issue, because surely, he hadn’t meant it like it sounded. He was torturing him, after all. The Hatter held up a fist. “No. He keeps me company in this…” his eyes grew stormy. “This hell. And with the Pale One no longer visiting, I prefer the company.”
“Death doesn’t visit?” I asked, surprised.
He shook his head, lips thinning in both sadness and anger. “No.”
Death had warned me about visiting the Hatter, but I was surprised to hear of him practicing what he preached. After all, what did he have to be scared of? He was a freaking Horseman.
“Has your… roommate told you much about the Syndicate?”
He jumped to his feet, panting with sudden fury. “Those slimy, good for nothing bastards,” he snarled, spittle flying in an arc. Then he began to pace, stomping loudly. I sat very still.
“Has he told you something that upset you?” I asked softly. Politely. Casually.
He rounded on me, pointing a beefy finger. “There is nothing I do not know about the Syndicate. I—” then he clammed up, deciding not to say whatever had been on the tip of his tongue. He closed his eyes, and let out a deep breath. “They are a failure. A broken dream.”
I frowned. That was a very specific way to describe them. I tried a different route. “I’m trying to stop a man. A man who is willing to go to very dangerous lengths to destroy them—”
“Then maybe you should be helping him,” the Hatter snarled, more spittle flying.
I nodded slowly. “I’ll… take that into consideration. But the things he’s done – and is willing to do – might be worse than anything the Syndicate has done.”
He took a menacing step forward as if willing to rip me in half with his bare hands. “Nothing is worse than what the Syndicate has done. Nothing! You should be willing to break the world to stop them.” His eyes literally danced with white fire now, and drool coated his beard.
What the hell had the Syndicate done in the past to ignite such ire from both the Hatter and the Academy? I mean, I wasn’t on Team Syndicate or anything, but I also wasn’t willing to destroy the world to expunge them. What didn’t I know?
I gave him a few moments to compose himself. “What I meant was that I at least need to speak with this man, but I’m having trouble locating him. Maybe I can feel him out, and find another solution to help him destroy them,” I lied, very glad he couldn’t read my thoughts right now. “But I can’t find him.” I paused, letting my words sink in past the Hatter’s emotions. I had no intention of talking to Ichabod. I was going to end him. “If I can track the Syndicate, maybe I can find this man.”
The Hatter grunted, muttering to himself, but not answering me.
“He… has hurt someone close to me. Taken her, in fact. And in a very short time span, has completely changed her as a person. I’m not sure how or why, but I don’t know how it’s possible to make my… friend so completely different in such a short period. Like night and day.”
The Hatter snatched up the violin, but then he froze, looking horrified at his action. He held it close to his lips and whispered an apology. Then he held it up to his ears. A moment later, a wide smile split his face, and he nodded gratefully. I stared in disbelief, not moving a muscle. Then he sat down and began plucking it like a mandolin. “Perhaps he told her the truth,” he said to me.
I waited for more, but when I sensed no more was coming, I pressed. “The truth?”
He nodded, seeming to grind his teeth as he plucked away an angry, violent tune. “The truth about what the Syndicate does. Has done. And will do. That would make anyone change their stripes.” He met my eyes, plucking a low-tuned string dramatically. “Anyone.”
I shivered. The look in his eye made me almost believe him. Could it be true? That the Syndicate was so evil that Indie had chosen to compartmentalize our love in order to carry such a deep hatred? I didn’t like the outcome, but it was a hell of a lot better than thinking she had just turned evil.
Problem was, that even if this were true, Ichabod was willing to go to terrible lengths to accomplish his goal, and that didn’t sit right with me.
Actions speak louder than words. It didn’t matter if you were taking out a bad guy by becoming an even worse guy. Thrasymachus was wrong. Might was not right.
But I wasn’t going to tell the Hatter that.
“Well, if Rumps says anything that might help me find either party, could you let me know?”
The Hatter grunted affirmatively. I think.
I took a risk. “And whatever you do, please don’t let him out of your sight. If he’s the only key to finding the Syndicate, this man may find a way to break him free.”
“I would like to see him try,” the Hatter growled. I frowned in though
t, because technically, if Ichabod and the Hatter hated the Syndicate so much, why wouldn’t they work together? I grew very uneasy, replaying past conversations with Ichabod in my mind. Did he know about the Hatter? How to get here?
“Listen, Hatter. Could you do me a favor?” he nodded absently. “Don’t let anyone visit you here. Lock the doors, or whatever.”
He slowly turned to face me, frowning. “You want me to lock my prison… even tighter?”
“No. It’s just… this man may reach out to you, and that could go very badly for me… and my friend.”
“I already told you, my boy. I hate the Syndicate…” he trailed off, studying his violin with adoration, “but I hate poachers even more.” He leaned forward suddenly. “And no one takes my toys. I’m not going to make an already near-impossible prison even more impossible to get into.”
I opened my mouth, but he interrupted me, growling murderously as he met my eyes.
“Tell you what. I’ll make it so that the only way here is through your Mask.” I let out a soft breath, trying not to sound too relieved. But since I was going to lock up the mask, that would be perfect. Ichabod could never come here. “But if you die, I remove those walls,” he added.
I sighed, finally nodding. It would have to do. “Thank you. Once this is all over, we can open the doors back up.”
“If you promise me one thing,” he said, studying me. I nodded, waiting. “Listen to him. Objectively. He may have a good point. Perhaps you can guide him on a different path to achieve his goals, but know that his goal is worthy of listening to.” He cocked his head, turning to the door expectantly. “It’s time for you to leave. I have a guest.”
Now, I had no idea if he really had a guest or was just nuts, but I stood, and turned to leave. Then I remembered I didn’t need to physically leave. Just send myself back. I closed my eyes.
But he suddenly latched onto me, his grasp circling my entire forearm, which wasn’t large, but it wasn’t that small, either.
And power like I had only barely tasted from my Maker Beast coursed through me in a rush like a waterfall. The true power of a Maker. A Tiny God, a small voice whispered in my ears, and I momentarily lost track of everything.
Tiny God.
That was what Shiva had called Makers. When he had told me that the Hatter had once been a Maker. Feeling his power now, I had a whole new respect for the title. And a whole new fear for Ichabod’s abilities and intentions. Was he willing to wake a god? Or was he just intending to use the Grimms to take out the Syndicate? To be honest, the Grimms sounded a whole lot better.
I brought myself back to the present, the Hatter still squeezing my arm. Not a threat, just a ridiculously large amount of magic emanating from his touch. I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Don’t forget your Mask,” he grinned. “You can make it smaller, like this.” He touched it, and it became a small coin. And somehow, I knew I could duplicate it. Change it, even.
I nodded slowly, then plucked up the coin, refusing to look at it while somehow keeping a gracious smile on my face. As a coin, there was no vibrating tingle to it. Just a coin. But I felt it calling out to me. I blocked out the feeling. “Thanks. I’ll… see you soon, Hatter.”
“Please, call me—” his head whipped to the door again. “God’s hairy balls! Fine! I’m coming!” And he disappeared as if he had never been there in the first place.
But I saw his precious violin resting on the couch, proving that I hadn’t imagined it all.
I just shook my head, not wanting to even consider what he had been about to say.
I had enough crazy in my life already.
Chapter 18
My phone rattled on the desk, snapping me out of my daze. I had sat in silence upon returning from the Mad Hatter, considering dark thoughts, toying with my new coin.
I slowly climbed to my feet and picked up the phone, pocketing my coin. Raego.
“Hey,” I answered.
“He fucking turned,” Raego growled angrily.
My shoulders sagged. I had just left his house! “Damn it all,” I muttered. “What color is he?”
“We… don’t know.”
I blinked, waited for elaboration, but got nothing. “What do you mean?”
“Just… get your ass over here. You started this, you can finish this,” he growled. I heard voices shouting in the background before he hung up. I pulled the phone away, staring down at it, confused. How did he not know what color Yahn was? And what did he need me to finish?
Rather than wasting time driving, because Achilles was going to be at my house soon, I Shadow Walked to Raego’s house, appearing in his lawn directly in front of an obsidian statue of a man. I jumped back a step, in surprise.
Peter.
My childhood friend. He had betrayed me for power, trying to kill me and my friends.
Which just set my mood perfectly.
I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, I saw nothing. I waited a few seconds, scanning the area, but nothing moved. I took one last look back at Peter, the jagged wound across his throat, and then stormed away.
It wasn’t a statue of Peter. It was Peter, forever frozen in stone, thanks to Raego breathing his smoke fire on him, in essence, saving all of our lives. Even if Raego was able to release Peter from the stone, he would bleed out within moments. So, he was both dead and not dead. I didn’t feel sorry for Peter, but I did feel… something. Regret. Pain. Loss.
Come to think of it, very similar to how I felt about Indie.
I shook it off, looking up at the house for the first time. And let out a surprised gasp.
A large hole marred the exterior wall of the second floor, like something had jumped out.
I ran up the steps, entering the house to find naked men and women running around, searching everywhere. I simply stood there, staring. No one paid me any mind, they were so obsessed with their search. Raego stormed onto the upper landing that overlooked the foyer, glaring down at me.
“I heard you needed some help with a reptile dysfunction,” I smiled.
One of the dragons snickered as he searched. Quietly. Raego just stared at me for a few seconds. Then he pointed at me, and then at the landing beside him. I jogged up the stairs, and stood exactly where he had pointed, waiting. He let out a frustrated breath and then began walking away. “Follow me.”
I did, and we soon reached the open door to a guest room. He motioned me inside.
I frowned, peering inside. And saw the gaping hole in the wall that led outside.
“Yahn’s room,” Raego growled.
I continued to stare. Then I frowned at him. “I don’t see Yahn. Is he hiding?”
Raego met my eyes, not amused at all. “As a matter of fact, he is. We need you to find him.”
I blinked. “You guys can’t find a big fucking dragon on your own? You’re the Obsidian Son. The Dragon King. Just command him to appear,” I said, entirely confused.
Raego folded his arms, and finally shook his head. “I can’t. I never saw him as a dragon. He never saw me as a dragon. We are strangers. Fledglings must be dominated before they can obey. The parents typically take care of this, and since the parents are bound to me by my magic, their offspring becomes bound to me.” I frowned, not having known that. Then I got it.
“The Reds are too young to dominate him,” I said flatly. “That’s why you wanted him close.”
Raego grunted a confirmation. Then he leaned low, eye to eye. “He is a fledgling carnivore, likely hungry, confused, and terrified.” He pointed out the hole in the house. I could see the St. Louis skyline in the distance. “And we can’t find him.”
Shit. We were both silent for a minute, staring out at the city. Where would he have gone?
“He is something… new,” Raego said softly.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that he shifted, tore through my house, injured my dragons,” he paused dramatically, “and no one saw him.”
&n
bsp; I digested that very slowly. What had I done?
“You sure no one saw sparkles or anything?” Raego just stared at me. “Okay. What typically happens when they shift for the first time? Do they simply hunt?”
Raego frowned, thinking. “If there is food nearby, they typically go for that.” He clenched his fists. “But we had plenty of food laid out downstairs, just in case he turned, knowing it would draw him like a fly to shit.”
“Except it didn’t,” I said, thinking. He grunted. “You said if. What do they do when there isn’t food nearby? Or aren’t hungry?” I added, remembering his comment about food downstairs.
Raego met my eyes. “They go to a safe place. Something they remember as a human. Home. Did he have family nearby?”
I shook my head since he was a foreign exchange student, but then I remembered Greta, his Grammy. I instantly dialed her.
“Master Temple… did you crash any birthday parties today? Make any children cry?”
I rolled my eyes. “Greta, this is important. Have you seen Yahn? Or a dragon?”
The line went silent for a few seconds. “What in the devil are you talking about?”
Which was good. It meant she hadn’t. “Okay, good. I need you and Eae to get somewhere safe. Somewhere you don’t normally go. Just stay away from home,” I urged.
“I am not leaving my home, thank you very much!” she snapped. “Where is my Yahn? What did you do?” she hissed into the phone. I heard a male voice speaking in the background.
“Do I sound like I’m playing around here?” I shouted in disbelief. “You are in danger!”
“The Lord is my shepherd,” she said with sheer arrogance.
And that set me off my rocker. “You will get your happy ass out of the house, or I will come over there and, so help me god, I will drag your happy ass out of the house, wrap you up in a damned doily, and drop you off at a strip club!” I roared, seeing red.
Tiny Gods: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 6 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 10