I nodded slowly, glancing away for a moment, struggling against my next question. I finally took a deep breath and turned back to him. “Are you a member of the Syndicate?” I asked, ready to defend myself.
Mallory guffawed. “No, boy. I’m a god. We don’t do clubs. I’m just a bodyguard for your family. A protector to help you on your path.”
I slowly let out my breath, grateful for at least that much. “Was my father involved with the Syndicate?” I whispered.
Dead silence met me. I slowly moved my hand closer to my pocket, just in case.
He watched me, completely still. “Perhaps this is something you should ask him…”
My pulse began to race. “You realize that your evasive answer is an answer, right?”
Mallory slowly nodded. “Aye, but there is more to the sto—”
“Motherfucker!” I shouted, throwing my hands up into the air. Lightning hammered into the ceiling, enough force to blast a hole through the roof. It was instinctive, primal, not cognitively decided. My rage simply took over for a heartbeat.
Chateau Falco growled in disapproval.
“Can it, Beast!” I shouted, letting loose another volley into the ceiling.
Chateau Falco grumbled in response, but grew quiet. The lightning died, and where I expected to see a hole in the roof, I only saw the same old pretty constellation-like gems. Warded. I grunted angrily. I couldn’t even throw a proper Temple Tantrum. Part of me almost smiled at Indie saying that. She had often teased me about it in the past.
But so many things had changed since then.
I turned to see Mallory on the tips of his hooves, ready to flee or defend himself from me. Not defend and kill, but prevent me from harming him or… myself. Genuine sadness filled his eyes, and I could tell he wanted to say so much more.
He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it, waiting for me. I nodded at him, waving a dismissive hand. “Go on,” I muttered.
“I will tell you whatever you want, honestly, truth in every detail, pulling no punches…” he began. “However, I would prefer you speak to him about his choices. I don’t like to talk about people when they aren’t here to defend themselves. You deserve answers to your questions, but I shouldn’t have to pay the price for those answers.” He waited until I finally gave him a resigned nod. “That being said, all you need do is ask, and I will answer… Because I don’t work for him any longer. Truth be told, I only worked for him so that I could one day work for you…” I could feel the honesty in his tone.
A small part of me reached out to that comment like a lifeline. I needed it in that moment, because I was in a very dark place. Loyalty.
“I need you to promise me something. When I talk to you, am I really speaking with someone else? As in, are your loyalties for me trumped by any other god, being, or group?”
He shook his head, and I let out a soft breath of relief.
“If I speak to you, what is said is never to leave your lips. Ever. Even if my life is in danger as a result. Not until I’m dead and buried for a decade. Can you accept this?”
Mallory let out a hungry grin. “It was always that way, Master Temple,” he whispered. “But I’ll do you one better. Since you have enough drama for several reality TV shows,” he said sadly. And a vortex of golden light suddenly surrounded him. He used his horns to slice open his palm, drawing blood. Looking closely, I could see that his blood was flecked with flashes of silver and gold and light. Crimson, still, but like a sparkling, royal crimson.
And he swore an oath to serve me. Period. Only me. Not Zeus. Odin, or any other god. Not Shiva, Ganesh, or the Big G. Only me, Nate Temple. Master Nate Temple. No matter what happened, who it betrayed, who it hurt, he was mine. The end. “I brand this oath to my bones.”
As he finished speaking, the words wrapped around him, swirling like a mini cyclone, and then they hammered into his flesh, and judging by the look of true pain on his face, it seemed to literally brand his bones.
A burning stench even permeated him for a moment, and his skin looked red and tender to the touch. He took a deep, shaky breath, and then met my eyes, waiting.
“Where do you hide my Macallan?” I asked, miming a spell of supreme, untamable power with wild hand flourishes, as if he could no longer deny my authority.
He grunted. “Wasn’t part of the contract,” he winked. I scowled at him and he began to laugh. “I’ll tell you this. I’m the wild god.” And he leaned forward with a clever glint in his eyes. “I will always know where to find the good stuff. Be right back, boy.”
I laughed, rolling my eyes as he disappeared. I made my way to the fireplace in the center of the main area in the cavern. I lit the fire with my magic, not bothering to see if there was some magical switch to do so, and leaned back into a chair, thinking furiously.
He appeared a moment later with a wooden tray, seemingly carved from the oldest tree I had ever seen. The tray held a glorious bottle of the fifty-year-old Macallan, two Gurkha Black Dragon cigars, and two wooden cups – looking as if carved from the same source as the tray.
“Come now, boy. You can tell your bartender your troubles…” he grinned, pouring me a glass. And I shared my thoughts, what I possibly planned to do.
His eyes widened as I spoke, but he didn’t laugh at me, knowing my penchant for wild plans that always seemed to go my way. Or at least a little bit my way. We spoke for a very long time, and although we didn’t get hammered drunk, it was an… interesting walk back to my rooms. I briefly remember commanding one of the griffin Guardians to fly me to my bed.
He didn’t. But I think several did escort me back, like the Secret Service did for the President.
Chapter 47
I sensed someone standing near me as I lay in bed. I instantly rolled off, struck the nightstand with my nose, and fell on my back, knocking the wind out of me. “Here comes an ass whipping,” I wheezed to the intruder.
“Master Temple,” Dean’s voice sounded urgent. “You have a visitor. And you smell like a used bar rag.”
Not an attack. Just Dean, my butler. “Well, you take the usual precautions, and I’ll go take a quick shower.”
Dean walked around the bed to stare down at me. “She is outside the Gates, and refuses to proceed further. She instead demands that you meet her.”
I blinked. “Demands?” I growled in disbelief.
Dean nodded slowly, his face ashen. “Mallory has her in his crosshairs, but advised me to tell you he shouldn’t shoot.” Dean saw the flash of anger on my face. “He thought it… unwise.”
“Bloody terrible idea, more like it,” Mallory’s gruff squawked on the radio on Dean’s hip.
I climbed to my feet. “Who the hell thinks they can show up to my house, stand at my gates, and demand me to come out?” I asked, genuinely stunned at the ego. “Is it Van Helsing? Doesn’t want another sniper round to mess up his shirt?” Then I remembered. “Wait. You said she.”
Dean just nodded. “If you would please meet me at the front door when you are refreshed, Master Temple. I believe all will be clear momentarily.”
I grumbled at his back as he departed, slapping my cheeks, wondering what time it was. It felt like I had only just fallen asleep, but I’d had a trying few days behind me. Regardless, I knew that Indie and Ichabod were going to attempt to open the gateway to the Dark Realm with the Brothers Grimm tonight. Mallory and I had spent a few midnight hours in the cavern, discussing plans, how we could stop them, how we could get the Hand of God back from the Syndicate. Hell, if we should get the Hand of God back from the Syndicate.
After all, if they had it, Ichabod wasn’t likely to get it.
Not without my help.
It looked like me laying around after this Grimm ordeal, maybe catching a movie and taking a nap, could likely solve all my problems. Causing a stalemate.
But I knew my luck, and as if the universe was reminding me, some random stranger now stood outside my gates. Demanding things. Maybe it was Indie, trying to
talk to me without Ichabod present, but not being able to come inside the walls. I entered the bathroom, slapped some water on my cheeks, wiped on some deodorant, and fidgeted with my hair.
Then I summoned Carl as I strode down the hallway towards the stairs. He appeared beside me a moment later, following a pace back, waiting for my command.
“I think we have an unwanted guest at the gates. I want you to keep your eyes out. Don’t act unless shit goes sideways, but be ready to interfere if necessary.”
Carl’s thin reptilian lips tightened hungrily as he nodded.
“And no eating them this time,” I warned. His smile vanished, replaced by a darker, smoldering hunger. “Don’t get hangry on me. I have enough going on.”
“Yes, Master Temple,” he said obediently, but I could definitely feel him biting his tongue.
Because he was an Elder, and they fed on souls. His kind had been banished by a tag-team of every supernatural nation in existence.
Now that I thought about it, there had been a lot of banishing going on in the past several hundred years. When those alive deemed it prudent to simply put a lid on the problem rather than eliminating the problem. Which just meant some lucky SOB like me got to deal with it later when they broke out.
We reached the front door – which had been replaced numerous times – to find Dean standing there, waiting. He pulled open the door, and extended a hand for us to exit. “Be ready,” I whispered to him as I walked past.
Chateau Falco heard me as well, and I felt a sudden thrum of energy emanating from her walls, whether defensive or offensive, I didn’t know. But the house would be fine. I gathered that much. Dean rubbed his arms idly, studying me. I shook my head and patted the door frame. “Wasn’t me,” I smiled as I walked out.
And because Dean was the butler to a pretentious once-billionaire asshole, he had a car waiting for me. An ivory-colored Bentley that gleamed in the sun as if cream had literally just been poured into a mold. Carl murmured appreciatively, and I grinned, glancing back over my shoulder. Dean wore a self-satisfied smirk. He loved his job. A vicarious asshole.
The wheels gleamed in the sunlight like molten chrome, and the engine purred softly, idling. I turned to Carl, assessing him, and then shook my head. He frowned. “I was thinking you might disappear against the color, but you’re pastier.”
His face had no reaction. Which either meant he didn’t get it, or didn’t find it funny.
Must be the former.
I climbed inside, motioning him to open the passenger door. Sure, most billionaires had drivers, but Carl wasn’t really chauffeur quality, and Mallory was busy with a sniper rifle on the roof. So, with a great sigh of disdain, I settled in behind the wheel, putting on my airs at such a task being so beneath me. Because this mystery guest likely expected to see that.
Carl grunted from beside me, rubbing his claws idly on the seats. Then he took a very deep whiff through his nose holes, blue eyes closing in ecstasy. “Calfskin. Delicious. I can almost still hear the echoes of their dying screams as they were sacrificed to furnish your luxury,” he commented casually, literally just speaking his mind.
I stared at him for a very long moment. “Just when I think you can’t get any creepier, Carl…,” I finally said, and shifted the car into gear.
He nodded absently, taking it as a compliment.
And I drove down the driveway, watching the trees zip by on either side like a tunnel.
We neared the gate, and I slowly came to a stop. I stared at the person on the opposite side of the ancient gate through my windshield. I hadn’t expected her. In fact, I kind of wanted to turn the car around. I sat there long enough that even Carl shot me a questioning look.
“Are we playing a game, or are you trying to anger her?” he asked, genuinely curious.
I smiled. “Good idea.” And I began fiddling with the stereo as I rolled down my window. I accessed the playlist stored in the car – courtesy of Dean – and cranked up Jet’s Ice Cold Bitch as loud as I could. I sat there, listening to the opening riff, letting the guitar intro roll over me.
Carl clapped his hands over his ear holes at the explosion of sound. I snickered and rolled the rest of the windows down. Then the sunroof. I studied the interior of the car for a few moments, then glanced at my guest, unsatisfied. I held up a finger for her to hold on a moment.
I shifted the car into reverse, backed up a few feet, and then pulled forward again, turning the wheels so that the side of my car now faced the gates. I parked and climbed out, leaving my door wide open. Then I opened the driver’s side backseat door – which was different from most cars. The hinges were near the back, rather than the center of the car. This was designed so that the driver could open his boss’s door with minimal fuss, rather than having to waste a few seconds taking two additional steps to reach the door handle.
The things that money could buy…
This effectively created a cone of sound cast directly at her, blaring the chorus of the song, now. Cold Hard Bitch, just a kiss on the lips…
I smiled and waved at her. “Good—” I looked up at the sky, realizing the sun was directly above us, “afternoon,” I finished. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She studied me from beyond the gate, and then she took a big old whiff. I frowned as she let out a frustrated growl. Her eyes tracked to the sign I had recently installed. A great wooden piece that said Beware of – but a giant claw or bite mark obliterated whatever the sign had been warning against. “It wasn’t you,” G Ma hissed, turning back to me.
“That wasn’t creepy.” I looked at Carl pointedly. “And I know creepy.” He nodded back politely. I both loved and hated Carl for little things like that. It was hard to upset him.
I turned back to G Ma. “What were you checking me for?” But I knew. She wanted to see who had robbed her, but since I had masked my powers with my… Mask, she couldn’t pinpoint the flavor of magic at the scene of the crime. The silver light and licorice-type smell I apparently gave off. I was suddenly very glad that I hadn’t taken the coin with me downstairs. I had hidden it in a secret compartment in my room that I was sure even Dean didn’t know of.
She turned to Carl and sniffed him, too. He sniffed right back, eyes rolling back into his head. “Delightful,” he breathed. “You’ve experienced so many years of pain and loss I could lick away… Mind if I have a nibble?” He grinned through inky black teeth.
She stepped back in surprise, and then seemed to take him in for the first time, as if suddenly recognizing him. Her eyes locked onto mine. I grinned. “What have you done?” she whispered.
“Creepy Elder Carl, meet senile Wizard G Ma,” I chuckled.
“You ignorant fool!” she spat, furious.
I shrugged. “That obviously isn’t what you came here for. Did you just come to get a whiff of Eau de Nate? Or are you ready to skip the foreplay? I’ve got things to do, right, Carl?”
He grunted affirmatively.
Her outrage was a physical presence, seeming to make the air suddenly heavier. But almost as soon as it began, the air lightened again. She blinked in disbelief, staring from Carl to me, and then to the mansion perched on the slight hill behind us. I guess my house hadn’t liked her magic, even if it had been just a reaction of her emotions.
I let my smile grow wider, turning into a yawn. I shrugged, motioning for her to proceed.
Her gaze lingered on the home thoughtfully, but she finally dismissed it. “You have declared war on the Academy, murdering two—”
“Technically, it’s not murder when you are defending yourself from an act of war. They actually call that a casualty. Right, Carl?”
“Yes, Master Temple. My brothers even use the bones of these casualties to create new weapons. Circle of Life. Better for everyone.”
G Ma’s face was a disgusted mask, but I managed to keep the sickened feeling that hit my stomach off of my face as I motioned for her to continue. Fucking Carl…
She composed herself, deciding
to simply ignore Carl. “You believe that your various friends, powers, and upbringing allows you to behave in such a manner. But you forget. You are a wizard again,” her smile was back, and it dripped venom. “Such wizardly disagreements are not handled by War, but by a Duel… between the parties involved. You and I.”
She slipped a thick, folded letter through the gate, then turned on a heel, taking a few steps away. Carl handed me the piece of paper after checking it for traps. I read it, and my stomach dropped out of my nether regions. I looked up to see a Gateway opening before her, but I cleared my throat to stop her.
“I’ll have to reschedule.”
“Then I will have to destroy your city and all known associates. With the help of my own Allies. Nasty group of monsters.” She smiled. “You’re not the only one with friends, Temple.”
“Listen. It’s not that I’m changing my mind, it’s that I have something to do tonight.”
“Be there or don’t. That is your prerogative. I’ll be waiting at the…” she sneered in mockery, “Fight Club.”
“Wait, first of all, that isn’t a thing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Secrets don’t apply to me. I can discover anything.”
“Okay, let’s pretend there is a secret Fight Club. What are the terms?”
“Winner takes all,” she laughed.
“And the loser?” I pressed.
“He will be forced not to retaliate against the winner, and to let them handle their business unmolested.”
“Or she,” I corrected, glaring. She nodded with a slight condescending smile. I tapped the card in my hand, thinking furiously. “Okay. I’ll see you there. You know how to get there?”
She rolled her eyes. “King Midas and I go way back,” she chuckled huskily. “Way, way, back,” she hinted suggestively. Gross.
“Right. See you there, I guess. Any particular rules?” I asked, wondering how the hell I was going to make this work. I was supposed to be here, to somehow thwart Indie when she attempted to bring back the Grimms, and that meant I would need to resolve this little wrestling match quickly. Very quickly. Against the strongest wizard in the world. And I couldn’t let her win or I would be effectively neutered to protect my friends.
Tiny Gods: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 6 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 23