I squirmed uncomfortably, feeling as if part of my soul had died down. “It’s okay. I won’t murder all of you just yet…” I said softly.
Matthias laughed softly, not at the situation, but at my comment. I shot him a look and he lifted his fist. “Temples are made of stronger stuff.”
I waved him off, and he froze, staring at my hand. I frowned, then remembered it was my bandaged hand with the brand. Our family crest. The bandage had come loose at some point.
He slowly lifted his palm to show me a weathered scar of the same crest.
I turned to Ichabod with a dark smile. “Team Temple rocks. Where’s yours, Icky?”
Matthias grumbled. “I will not have my sons fighting. Or great-great-great-grandson fighting my son.” He finally sighed. “Temple will not fight Temple. We have enough enemies.”
“In point of fact, Temple will fight Temple if Icky doesn’t jump off the crazy train sometime soon. I won’t let him wake a god. You should know. You tried, and it broke you.”
Matthias nodded. “But from what you tell me, these are different times. And we have a Maker in the family again. I can tell him what I did wrong. And you could always take back your Beast,” he offered casually.
I threw my hands in the air. “No. Not going to happen. I got rid of it for a reason—”
And the room grew silent until Matthias finished my statement. “Because you didn’t want to end up like me…” he said softly, nodding without disdain. “Understandable.” His gaze grew distant, and even Ichabod shifted his gaze away from me for a time.
I continued to pretend Indie did not exist.
She had known this information – whether true or not – but rather than telling me, she had kept it close. Attacked me. All she would have had to do was tell me—
“That never would have worked, Nate, and you know it,” she whispered. “The second I would have said something bad about the notoriously righteous Temple clan, you would have shut down. Told me I was brainwashed. That the Grimms were controlling me. That Ichabod was controlling me.” She leaned forward. “When it was really you being controlled… by your own father.”
She didn’t say this with malice, but with the cold, unrelenting eyes of truth.
She genuinely believed it. And she was one smart cookie. It was why I had hired her, and ultimately, proposed to her. She was made of rare stuff. Having been a Regular her entire life, she had desired to weather the storm and join my magical world, even though I had pushed her away for so long, not wanting her to get hurt.
But then she had gotten a big dose of power, and that power had changed her. Corrupted her.
And in the end, she had hurt me, the big bad wizard.
I shook my head, not replying, refusing to believe her words. She was simply a mouthpiece for Ichabod. I listened as Matthias spoke. “Now you know that it wasn’t just me being cracked that landed me here. It was political. Castor Queen wanted the Grimms. I wanted to destroy them. The moment I reached out to the Academy, Castor knew, and set everything in motion.”
I thumbed my lip, reaching back for my drink. I took a big sip, then tapped the glass idly as I watched him. “You’re telling me that the Syndicate were originally the good guys?”
Matthias dropped his gaze. “The better guys, maybe,” he admitted.
I took another drink as Ichabod picked back up on his join-or-die spiel. “The Syndicate has been poisoned. Almost immediately after my father created them. And that poison has grown deep into the roots. The trunk is rotten, and after what they’ve done to our family, I can’t see how you don’t want to end them.”
“I gave a speech today,” I said, swirling my glass.
Ichabod and Indie frowned. Matthias leaned closer, watching me. “I adore speeches.”
I frowned at him, wondering if he was pulling my leg, but he just stared. And I remembered that he came from a time where a speech was a big event. Men spent months, years, drafting a speech. Because it was their only means of communicating with the masses. Especially in the American Colonies. They had to nail it. Right then. Right there.
“Mine was really just a threat.”
Ichabod rolled his eyes. “If you’re trying to impress or scare me, do get on with it, so that I can show you my previously-prepared mock fear, and we can move on to the real fucking issue.”
“Language,” Matthias warned in a fatherly tone.
Surprisingly, it worked.
I shook my head at Ichabod’s comment. “I threatened to bring the Academy war. I might have hinted – just a little – that I would use my Horseman mantle to mete out justice if they didn’t play nice.” I held out the coin from my pocket, showing Ichabod and Indie. The room was silent. I let it build, taking another small sip before pocketing the coin again. “I meant every word. They crossed a line. They think I’m working with the Syndicate to doom the world somehow.” And I suddenly wondered if the Academy had suspected my father of the same thing. But I couldn’t take Indie’s words on faith. Not anymore. My face didn’t show this thought as I continued. “That I’m building an army to challenge them.”
Ichabod’s eyes gleamed with anticipation, no doubt imagining me bringing that to the table.
I met his eyes. “The Syndicate hates me. They seem to hate quite a few of us Freaks, or at least they make their riches off of the backs of our misery,” I said to Ichabod, referring to the circus, among other things. “Anyway, I told you that to say this. My threat to the Academy equally applies to the Syndicate.”
Ichabod clapped. “That’s the spirit—”
I held up a finger. “But we will not wake a goddamn god to do it,” I added.
He laughed out loud. “You’re willing to abuse a power that hasn’t even been entirely granted to you,” he pointed at my pocket, “and call out the Riders to clean up your enemies, and you believe this is more noble than waking up a god?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Own it, boy. I am. My plan will end their scourge.”
“A scourge that your own father strengthened,” Indie added in a soft tone.
I snapped at her. “What proof do you have?” I pointed at Ichabod angrily. “Him? Really?”
She sighed, as if entertaining a toddler’s hissy fit. “Drop the Temple Tantrum, Nate. If you won’t believe us, why don’t you ask him yourself?” she snapped right back.
“It’s so nice to have the family together again, isn’t it?” Matthias grinned softly at the three angry Freaks in his home. “But perhaps we should focus on what we can agree on…”
“Rumpelstiltskin,” Indie leaned forward.
Matthias shot me an uneasy look. I shook my head, and saw Ichabod make a motion out of the corner of my eye. He drew a finger across his throat, reminding me of my friends.
Shit.
Matthias pleaded with me. “Perhaps their plan has merit… Have you at least considered it?”
I let out a loud breath. “Of course I’ve considered it. And it only took me two seconds to realize how terrible of an idea it is.” I pointed at Indie. “Despite her progressed control, she doesn’t stand a chance leading them. This isn’t anything personal, Indie,” I growled as she began to argue. “They have been Grimms their entire lives, and have been locked away for hundreds of years. They are more animal than man. Nothing like the Grimms Matthias had in his day. They. Want. Vengeance. Or did you forget that fact after, you know, they killed you to get to me?”
I was panting, and hadn’t realized I had been pounding the table with my fist to enunciate each word.
Before anyone could argue, I pressed on. “Ichabod fucking lived with them over there. He knows what they’re like.”
Ichabod nodded in agreement. “That is why we must use them. They are animals that we can use to our advantage. In combination with your menagerie of Shifters, my Beast, a God, your Horsemen, Chateau Falco, and the stones embedded in her damn arm that can control the Grimms, we actually stand a chance to end the Syndicate. Once and for all. Free the world from their control.
Their madness. Their corruption.” He locked eyes with Indie, giving her a confident smile. “I trained her, Nate. Not just to master her abilities, but how to master them. All of them. She can do it, boy. Give her some credit.”
I shrugged. “You want us to sell our souls to beat them. Just like Castor Queen sold his soul to get rid of Matthias.” I folded my arms. “Sins of our fathers… Not with my help.”
Matthias had been silent, watching us go back and forth with a pensive look, and I hoped that name-dropping his nemesis would put him firmly on my side.
“I think I must agree with my son on this one, Nate.” My hope died. By fire. Then firing squad. “Nothing personal. But after hundreds of years, they are likely deeply entrenched in every major facet of the supernatural world. It will take this level of fortitude and dedication to break them.” He studied Ichabod. “You truly trust she can manage them?”
He nodded confidently. “She can. And if she has any issues, I will be there to support her.”
“Because you did so well against them last time. I remember a pretty necklace they gave you. Not a necklace, but some word I can’t recall. It rhymed with leash,” I said, frowning in thought.
His eyes were livid, and if Matthias hadn’t lifted a hand to stop him, that might have been my last breath.
“Boys,” he warned. Ichabod actually wilted a bit, but shot me a nasty look first. Then he cleared his throat. “Silver Tongue. You have visitors,” he bellowed, snapping his fingers.
The man instantly appeared before us.
Indie and Ichabod both gasped in horror.
“Holy Hell…” Indie whispered.
“This wasn’t my idea,” I told him with a sad frown. Which made him all sorts of terrified.
He actually peed himself. I realized in that moment that I had a gift for causing this.
Matthias grimaced at the smell. “You are to be handed off to new jailers. You may remember the name Ichabod from your misspent youth. Ichabod Temple, my son. He needs something from you, and it would please me for you to provide it to him. Promptly. No deals. In fact, this is your deal. I will no longer punish you for hurting my grandson, Nate.”
Rumpelstiltskin peed himself even more at mention of Ichabod, his wary eyes flicking back and forth to Indie, myself, and finally Ichabod. He looked sickened, haunted, and… messy.
“I’m not sitting next to him,” I offered, wondering what the hell I could do to stop this.
“I don’t understand,” he rasped, as if not having spoken in a few months. Which was likely.
“It is not your place to understand, Silver Tongue. Only to obey,” Ichabod spoke softly, eyes twinkling. “Any act of betrayal will subject you to my own displeasure. And I’ll do my best to live up to my father’s oh-so-high standards,” he grinned wickedly, glancing at Matthias.
Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes widened, not having realized that he had been summoned into the middle of a family drama. Or at least not having connected it yet. But working for the Syndicate, it was entirely likely that he had known of their relation.
Ichabod handed the cane handle to his father. “Hold onto this for me. A pledge that one day I will return to free you from this hellhole. Once I have avenged our family.” He shot me an ugly look as he said it, implying that I had dishonored our name.
Matthias unhappily took the cane, with two fingers, and then shoved it in a white bone box I hadn’t seen. Then he locked it with an ivory key I also hadn’t seen. Then the box simply disappeared, and he quickly brushed his hands on his pants. Then he nodded, a very hopeful smile on his face as he stared at his son.
Papa Temple had just made it abundantly clear he would do anything for his son.
Even end the world.
Anything to get his freedom and family back. Anything to attain vengeance on Castor Queen. My stomach felt like a bowl of rancid, flammable oil as I stood, turning my back on them. I had tried. And failed. The Grimms were coming back.
Chapter 46
I paced in the cavern, walking the length of the room, hoping that the waterfall would calm me down. We had left the Hatter—
Matthias, I corrected myself. Matthias Temple.
And although he had shot me many uneasy looks, he had ultimately sided with his son.
Rumps – unsurprisingly – needed some time to recuperate, and rather than keeping me around to kill Dark Team Temple’s mood, they had seen no reason to deny my departure. They had what they wanted. They didn’t think I could do anything to stop them. They were going to get the Grimms back, and then rob the Syndicate of their HOGs. And wake a god.
At least I had convinced them that they had to call back the Grimms on my property, beneath the tree, stressing that it would lend her credit in their eyes. They would sense the final resting place of their fallen Brothers. Where Indie had been rebirthed as a Grimm, and where a giant, fucking, impressive alien tree towered hundreds of feet in the air.
I wasn’t sure if it really mattered, but I felt better with the resources I had here.
I let out an angry breath, startling Mallory, who had made it back from Phoenix very concerned. Because we hadn’t ever showed back up at the hotel. Achilles and Gunnar had been magically dropped off at his bar, and had immediately called Dean. But Dean and Mallory hadn’t heard from me. Since time with the Hatter moved at a different pace than my world, it wasn’t long before I showed back up, startling Dean and Mallory.
My disappearance had taken a bit of explaining, and Dean had called Gunnar to fill him in.
Which meant it was late when I grabbed Mallory by the arm and led him here, to the cavern.
Pan, not Mallory.
Was anyone truly who they had pretended to be? Who I had known them to be? It seemed everyone was wearing a mask of some kind. That thought made me acutely aware of my own Mask in my pocket, still shaped like a Silver Dollar. I had yet to truly look at its true form – the face of the Mask – not wanting to tempt myself. Or soil my pants.
But no matter how many times I had told myself I would lock it away in the Armory, it still sat in my pocket. Because I didn’t want to let it out of my sight.
And…
My father was in the Armory.
The one who had allegedly been working for the Syndicate for the last few years prior to his murder. Making the Armory off limits now. Out of principle. Because stowing it there would mean I would need to confront him, and I wasn’t ready for that. With all the secrets and lies, it was hard not to entertain Indie’s claim, even though the larger part of me denied it outright.
But part of me still wanted to kill him.
Even though he was already dead.
He had never told me about the Syndicate, good or bad. And with all the craziness going on lately, he’d had ample time to do so. Any one of the times I had entered the Armory to share my problems with them or Pandora, for example.
But he hadn’t.
Which either meant it was all a lie – like I hoped – or that he had known how I would react, and hadn’t dared add on to my already dire problems. Or he hoped I would never discover it.
“Pan,” I called out. I heard him hurrying my way, not running, but politely and obediently obeying. He was a freaking god, but he still acted like my batman. My bodyguard. I had found out what – who – he truly was, and it had been more or less painless. Because I had spent time around him, seen him act. If he had wanted to abuse me as a Maker, make me his pet, he could have done so many times. Any time I had been injured. But he had simply patched me up, put me back on my feet, and joined my side to go back into the fight.
Actions speak loudly, folks.
Still… This whole thing had started with him and my father, and if my father was Darth Vader… Pan could be as well, or he was about to hear one hell of a surprise…
He reached my side, no longer bothering to hide his true form since we were secluded in the mysterious cavern – or Sanctorum, as Ichabod had named it – and no one else could enter here. I had caught him up to
date on my failed theft of the HOG, how the black-fog woman had saved me. I assumed she was with the Syndicate, because her partner in crime had drugged Tory and left that note. Then attacked us at the school.
A new thought hit me. Had she known my father? Had she… worked for him? Was that why she had saved me? Because she had been his employee? If so, why hadn’t I gotten any recruitment letters? It was pretty obvious to the world that I was anti-Academy. Shouldn’t the Syndicate have approached me before things went so far south?
I shook my head. My father was innocent. He had to be.
I focused on the god, the wild one. The horned god. Pan.
“You seem… pensive,” he said.
“Wary.”
“Weary?”
I shook my head. “No. Untrusting.”
He nodded carefully, his wicked horns glinting in the purple torchlight. “Anything I can do to appease your mistrust?” he asked.
I was silent for a few moments, thinking. “I… don’t distrust you, Pan. But I’m beginning to fear that no one has been up front with me lately, nefariously so…”
He sucked in a small breath, seeming relieved that I wasn’t referring to him. But this was about to stress the bounds of our relationship. Find out who he really worked for.
I met his eyes. “You worked for my father for a long time. Drove him around, protected him. I would say that he trusted you more than almost anyone. After all, he sought you out in order to help me down the road, correct?”
Mallory nodded, betraying nothing on his weathered face.
“Who was he, really? What did you think of him?”
Mallory hesitated, thinking. “This sounds like a loaded question…”
I shook my head. “I need an answer. Why did he do what he did every day? You were around him the most.”
“He spent a fair amount of time around your mother, too,” he chuckled.
I didn’t laugh, not even wanting to consider her, and whether she had also been a member of the Syndicate.
He caught my mood, and frowned, studying me. “He wanted to do what was best for the Freaks. Always. Above all. He would go to great lengths to make sure they were taken care of when the Academy wouldn’t do what needed to be done.”
Tiny Gods: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 6 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 22