Ichabod met my eyes, nodding at whatever emotion he saw on my face. I just felt numb, and had no idea what he saw. “They worked together for a time, bringing peace where the Academy wouldn’t aid them. But… the Grimms were too powerful, and they grew desperate.”
Matthias’ face was stone, carefully composed rage at the memory, no longer muttering.
“Then my father came up with his plan to wake a god, notifying both the Syndicate and the Academy. His solution to the Grimms…” He cleared his throat, nodding at his father compassionately. “But he was betrayed. By his long-time friend, Castor Queen. The Syndicate – in conjunction with the Academy – banished him. Declared him a madman, a monster, unfit to occupy his seat in the Americas lest he doom them all. His partners, and his friends. Abandoned. Him. Because, little did my father know, Castor Queen had teamed up with the Brothers Grimm. To use them as a weapon for power, to take the Americas for himself, free from the Academy. To take the Syndicate from my father. And I was suddenly an orphan, running for my life…”
Chapter 42
No one spoke. Matthias and Ichabod both took long drinks from their glasses. They locked eyes, and nodded at each other with sad smiles of understanding, unconditional love. Peace.
I was in shock. For many reasons. The Syndicate had been around for that long?
Matthias had started it, and was later betrayed by his best friend.
Ichabod had been orphaned. He must have later come back to Chateau Falco, wondering why he couldn’t enter the cavern, or Sanctorum, as he had called it. He had then made it his life’s purpose to take out the Grimms. To take out the Syndicate for their betrayal.
But had instead been kidnapped, taken by his nemesis.
“If you never entered the… Sanctorum, how did you learn any of this?” I asked softly.
A queasy look passed across his face. “The Grimms were very… arrogant after my capture. They taunted me with this tale for… hundreds of years, trying to break me. They almost did.”
I shivered involuntarily, but Matthias spoke up.
“I had truly become lost in myself, with my Beast. I sought information anywhere I could find it, and my Beast… obliged. Chateau Falco never forgave me for that. Jealousy, perhaps.”
I stared at him, eager. “You were the last Master Temple,” I began, thinking furiously. I turned to Ichabod. “And because of your father’s… choices,” I winced apologetically at the Hatter, but he merely shrugged off my concern, “the house didn’t submit to you.”
Ichabod shrugged uncomfortably. “I thought it had merely been a boy’s fancy. Imagining that my home could talk to my father. That maybe he truly had been mad.”
His last word hit me like a rock, and I suddenly shook my head. “Wait… that doesn’t make sense…” I turned to Matthias. “Why did you adopt that name? You aren’t the Mad Hatter. He’s just a character in a book… A book written long after your banishment.”
Matthias nodded sadly. “Like I said, I had crossed into madness. Then was secretly banished here. But one friend visited me often. The only one before you.” He looked up at me. “Death.”
I stared in disbelief, not following his answer.
“He knew how much I missed the world, so he brought me books. Stories. To help me cope in my life of solitude. But in my madness, I became particularly… obsessed with your Lewis Carroll. Especially his Mad Hatter. I lived vicariously through those books, reading them hundreds of times. I became him, in a way…” he trailed off, silence filling the room for a few long seconds. “Death stopped bringing me books after that. But he did make it so that I could communicate with him via a paired copy of the book.” He smiled at me. “The one you have.”
My head felt ready to explode. Death had owned the book before me? And he had never said anything. But why had he given it away? And how had the ogres gotten their hands on it? Secrets upon secrets upon secrets.
Matthias stared sadly at his trappings. His prison. “Castor and his crew sent me here. To this place. I refused to help him, calling him a Black Hat for his evil plan to work with the Grimms. In response, he told me he would show me the punishment for being a White Hat in a world of Silvers and Blacks.” He held out his hands, indicating this white world around us. “I discovered his betrayal too late. The Academy never knew the truth, just helped Castor Queen subdue me, believing his lies about my dangerous intents. Castor Queen did the rest… He used me as a scapegoat for his true crime – of taking over the Brothers Grimm. Using them as a sword to clear away his enemies.”
I barely heard Ichabod whisper. “I never knew the details of that part, just that he had betrayed you, not what he had done with you after the trial… I tried to avenge you, Father…” Matthias nodded compassionately.
I let out a deep breath, downing more of my drink. I was definitely feeling buzzed. “This is un-fucking-believable…” I whispered.
Matthias shot me a glare. “Watch your tone, my boy… This isn’t easy on any of us, if you missed that…” he warned, idly picking up his violin. Ichabod’s face crumpled at the sight.
“You… still play?” he asked softly.
Matthias didn’t answer, he just began to play a haunting tone, closing his eyes.
Indie and Ichabod both let out soft sobs. I just shook my head, unable to share their emotions as my mind raced with what – the hell – was going to happen next?
Ichabod wanted to wake a god and bring the Grimms back, and judging by the looks of it, his father would do anything to make up for their shattered past. Because a father would do anything for his son…
Especially when that son only wanted to avenge him.
Chapter 43
Indie clapped softly once Matthias finished. Ichabod had a nostalgic look on his face as Matthias gently set the violin down.
I recalled the instruments I had seen in the cavern, wondering if one of them had been Matthias’ treasured violin.
A new thought hit me.
“What’s up with the round tabl—”
Ichabod spoke over me. “Father, I need your help…”
Matthias, obviously, chose to focus on his son rather than me. Indie shot me a condescending glare at interrupting their mending relationship.
I just wanted to know if that damn round table in the cavern had once seated some knights.
But my fanboy interests were not shared by the group.
“Whatever you need, my son,” Matthias finally replied.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Maybe you don’t agree before you hear what he wants. Because he wants to bring the Grimms back, Gramps. Great Gramps, or whatever the hell you two are,” I said. “You know, the ones who fucked up your lives? Two wrongs don’t make a right.”
Ichabod nodded, fire coming back into his face. “Yes. Nate is right. I will use them to hunt down the Syndicate.” He pointed at Indie, the stones embedded in her arm. “She has bonded with Jacob Grimm’s amulet in such a way that they will have to obey her.” Ichabod leaned closer, whispering urgently, conspiratorially. “Use the Syndicate’s own weapon against them. Salt the earth. Destroy them. In your name. In the name of all Temples…” he rasped. “Full circle.”
Indie fidgeted uncomfortably, but didn’t speak.
I frowned at her, but she shook her head almost imperceptibly, mouthing later.
Which made me frown harder, but the other two Temples hadn’t noticed, so intent on their plan, considering the possibility of revenge after so long.
Matthias turned to me, scratching his beard. “What say you, my boy?”
Ichabod looked ready to rip my heart out if I said one thing out of line. He even drew a finger across his throat, but Matthias held up a hand. “Do not threaten your descendant, Icky,” he admonished.
I burst out laughing. “Oh, boy. Icky?” I mimicked writing it down on my thigh, and putting it in my pocket. I smiled at him.
“Join us, Nate. The Syndicate is your enemy. You’ve been battling alongside me this whole time while pretending t
o be against me,” Ichabod pleaded.
“And I’ve done a pretty damn good job of pissing them off without the help of a god!” I shouted, panting, my vision pulsing red.
Ichabod scoffed. “You’ve pissed off their underlings. Not them!”
I shrugged. “Still. Pretty easy. No god required.” I folded my arms stubbornly.
Ichabod leaned forward, reaching towards his hip with a manic grin. “But all of your successes were with the aid of this.”
And he withdrew my old eagle-headed cane handle. It shifted into a full-length cane sword, tip thumping into the floor, and it seemed to vibrate on a molecular level. Ichabod looked pained as he held it, and Matthias instinctively growled, scratching at his arms as he stared down at it. As if they could sense my Beast trapped inside. And I abruptly realized I could, too. Not an uncomfortable feeling like they were experiencing, but more of a pleasant, hello, from an old pal.
Because my old Beast seemed to be alive and well, sitting inside my old cane.
I stared at it, and then slowly turned to Indie with a hostile glare. “Thanks for that.”
She looked both ashamed and outraged. Although I wasn’t sure if the shame was about her jealously trying to kill Othello – who had been giving me an innocent back rub at the time – or for stealing from me.
But I saw the outrage. And that simple emotion alone helped me ignore her crocodile tears. Because one small part of her was still defensive. Which meant she was dead to me. I grunted, dismissing her as I turned back to Ichabod.
“So, you stole my cane. Why?”
“Because we may need it for bargaining power.”
I was shaking my head. “Not going to happen. I freed him.”
Matthias burst to his feet, looking horrified. “WHAT?” he roared, startling all of us. He stared down at the cane as if it was a ten-foot-tall fire-breathing cobra.
“Calm down. He’s innocent.”
“Oh, the hell he is!” Matthias roared.
Ichabod was simply shaking his head at me, looking amazed at how incredibly naive I was.
“Do one of you want to tell me why it’s so deadly? I mean, look at it. It’s almost about to murder each of us. Any minute now…” I whispered theatrically, as nothing at all happened.
I felt a purr of satisfaction from the cane.
Ichabod glared at me. “He’s no danger to you. Not directly. But the world… that’s a different story. These…” he shot a look of disdain down at the cane, “Beasts were chained to Makers for a reason.” He pointed at Matthias. “Look at what his Beast did to him? And he was a Maker like the world had rarely seen before.” Matthias cast his eyes down, nodding. Ichabod waited for this look before continuing, face guilty, but adamant. “It brought a man like this, a Temple, to his knees. Turning him into the Mad Hatter. But even before that, it broke him. Changed him,” Ichabod whispered, face haunted, reliving his last childhood memories of his father.
Matthias nodded vehemently. “He speaks the truth. The last one that… broke free, or was granted freedom… was banished to the opposite end of the world. A team of Makers, wizards, witches, shifters, and Fae could barely restrain her…” he stared at me, very intently.
He finally took a step closer, pointing a finger at me. “Chateau Falco…” he breathed.
I just blinked. “Narnia?” I said. “But… she seems so nice…”
Chapter 44
Matthias looked as if I had hit him in the head with a ball-peen hammer. “Narnia?” he finally whispered in a baffled tone. “What the devil are you talking about?”
I shrugged. “I gave her a name, rather than saying, hey, house, all the time.”
Matthias threw his hands up in the air, about ready to explode. “We do not name the murderous, world-ending Beasts restrained by generations and nations of magic.”
I shrugged at him. “Why not?”
He growled under his breath, pacing. “Because she already has a name. Falco, you fucking idiot child,” he roared, turning his back on me as he panted. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he suddenly spun, pointing a finger at me, and I found myself floating a foot off the ground, held by my throat by an unseen force. “And not only have you tried to change her name, weakening her bond, but you may have freed another Beast upon the world!” he shouted. I began to choke, and he threw out a hand. I dropped to the couch, gasping as I clutched my throat.
In that moment, for some obtuse reason, I decided to never call my house Narnia again.
After a few tense moments, he let out several deep breaths. “It must stay here. Where it can do little harm. I’m collateral damage. Used goods. It can’t escape this place.”
“If,” I began, throat raspy, “It’s so dangerous, why hasn’t it escaped the cane?” I managed.
Ichabod shrugged. “I don’t know. This is why we took it from you. Because freeing your Beast, and leaving it in a home that embodies another Beast could have cataclysmic reactions. What if they had mated?” Matthias rounded on his son, looking horrified that he hadn’t considered the same thought.
“What?” I declared, incredulous. “You thought my cane and house were going to get it on?”
Ichabod shivered, studying his father. “I had heard stories of a Beast trapped in a house, but I had no idea it was our house. I had long ago decided that my father saying he could speak to the house was a condition of his madness, since it had never spoken to me…” He shook his head, dismissing the personal revelation as he turned back to me. “But when I saw that you had dominated Chateau Falco, and that it obeyed you, all became clear. I knew only that you had your Beast, and your cane,” he winked, reminding me of our conversation when I had first told him about it, “and that you had dominated Chateau Falco. But when we fought at the Circus, imagine my surprise to see you no longer had your Beast, and that you were once again a wizard.” He shrugged. “Not knowing what else to do, and fearing the worst, I sent Indie to retrieve the cane, assuming the house would sense me if I tried myself. I couldn’t risk two Beasts, one free, one chained, so close together.”
I frowned in thought, reaching out for the Beast to hear his side of the story.
Ichabod yanked the cane away, sheathing it in a cocoon of magic I could not penetrate. Matthias grunted in approval, and then shot me a very, very disappointed stare.
“You don’t want to hear his side of the story?” I asked, incredulous. “Why he hasn’t escaped if he’s so dangerous?”
Ichabod frowned. “I believe he can only escape if you let him escape, since you freed him. But you never completed the break. You broke him from you, but didn’t quite free him from his prison. Which brings up an interesting dilemma…” Matthias frowned, thinking Maker thoughts. Then he gasped.
“He’s a free agent.”
Ichabod nodded slowly. “My fear exactly.”
I’d heard Shiva say the same. I waved my hands. “Excuse me, what the hell does that mean?”
Indie spoke up. “It means someone can take him, bond him, and become a Maker.”
I frowned, unsure what to say to that.
“Why didn’t you just tell me all of this, Indie?” I whispered suddenly. “I would have listened. You didn’t have to betray me. Rob me. Attack my friends. Go fucking crazy.”
She stared at me for a good long while, her face darkening. “If you knew half of what the Syndicate has done, you would side with us in an instant.”
“So, tell me!” I threw my hands in the air. “And, no. I wouldn’t. I would help you destroy them, but we don’t have to call back the Grimms, or wake a god to do so. We just need to join forces. Hell, I have the Armory! We can—”
“Exactly,” she growled.
Which brought me up short. I blinked at her. “Exactly, what?”
Ichabod chuckled, leaning back in his chair as he motioned for her to continue. She nodded back resolutely, then turned to face me, folding her hands in her lap.
“Who built the Armory?”
I frowned. “Yo
u know that. My father.”
She nodded. “Who did your father work for?”
I rolled my eyes. “Himself. Always himself.”
“Not the Academy?” she asked. But she didn’t seem to truly care. Almost as if we had had this conversation before, and she was just reminding me of bullet points.
“Not really. He hated the Academy. Feared what they were doing. He considered himself a lone wolf, not that he let them know the depth of his hatred,” I said, leaning closer. “Look. Get to the point. We’ve done this dance enough times for me to know when you’re baiting me,” I smiled softly. Not in humor at the situation, but at the faded memory of when conversations like this with her had been pleasant.
Because we had been on the same side.
“Do you know anyone else who hates the Academy?”
I rose my hand. “Um. Me. I do.”
She nodded in faint amusement. “Who else?”
I frowned, thinking. Who didn’t hate them? They had become a useless group of old men and women hiding in safety, declaring their judgments from a distance, and shaping the world to their benefit.
Not unlike…
I blinked, rounding on her. “The Syndicate?” I asked.
She nodded slowly, waiting.
I waited. “Okay…” I urged. “I really suck at these games, you know.”
She locked eyes with me, taking a deep breath. Not sympathetic, but resolute. “Your father… worked for the Syndicate.”
And my heart stopped for a beat. Then it double-timed to make up for it, and I latched onto every iota of power I could, ready to obliterate her very existence.
Something hit me, and I shut down. Magically, rationally, physically, and emotionally.
And I found myself in a very, very dark place.
Chapter 45
I woke up to – more or less – the same scene. Ichabod enjoyed my pain. Immensely, because I found him watching me like a sociopathic kid with a magnifying glass had just discovered a nest of ants.
Tiny Gods: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 6 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 21