Tiny Gods: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 6 (The Temple Chronicles)

by Shayne Silvers

  Carl shook his head. “This has nothing to do with Master Temple.” And, man, did it rankle Ichabod to hear Carl refer to me as that. I would have to buy him a new shirt. Or let him eat someone. Just a little. “Silver Tongue,” he cocked his head sideways at me, silently questioning if he had used the correct name. I nodded, and he resumed. “Won’t be able to touch my wood,” Carl clarified. “It doesn’t belong to Master Temple. It merely resides here. Even he could not command it so.” And although the double-entendres were raining down, making it hard for me to keep a straight face, I was pretty sure he was lying. Because I had tapped his… wood before. Of course, that had been a confusing time where I had been dominating both my house and Carl, after taking a vision quest with my Beast under… Carl’s sacred wood – the Gateway to the other Elders.

  But maybe my timing had just been superb.

  Or Carl was learning how to lie.

  Rumps suddenly grunted in surprise, drawing everyone’s attention. “He’s right. I can’t tap into his wood…” he shot us an angry glare. “Tree,” he amended.

  Indie frowned, studying Carl. Gunnar simply smiled, beefy arms folded.

  Then she took a step closer to Carl, looking very respectful, beautiful, and polite as she asked in an overly serious tone, “Carl, may Silver Tongue and I tap your sacred wood?”

  There was absolutely no hesitation. “Yes, Mistress.”

  My jaw fell open, and Ichabod grinned triumphantly.

  As they turned back to the tree, I smacked Carl on the shoulder. “What the hell, Carl?”

  He shrugged. “She smells nice.”

  Gunnar coughed into his fist, but I could tell he was smiling at Carl’s response.

  “You and I are going to have a long talk about the dangers of the opposite sex. And the things that are more important, and less creepy, than liking someone’s smell.”

  Rumps focused back on the tree, sighing as it began to glow brighter. Not strong, but definitely brighter, as if someone had juiced up the tree sap with glow-sticks. I felt the power building, and the mansion behind me growled in response. She wasn’t pleased, but some part of what Carl said must have been true. Because she sure wasn’t preventing it from happening.

  Rumps spread his hands, one palm resting on the Grimm stones embedded into the flesh of Indie’s forearm. She watched, transfixed.

  “I’ll be able to do this on my own?” she whispered. He nodded absently.

  “With the stones from Jacob’s amulet bonded to your flesh, and the inherent abilities you now possess, yes,” he admitted. That simple statement from a terrified prisoner made me realize that Indie had been telling the truth. She could use her Maker power. Even without Ichabod.

  Indie watched his every move like a good student. She would be able to do this on her own soon. Which couldn’t be good. But a Gateway suddenly appeared, revealing a gaping maw of darkness so complete that it made the color black look as bright and cheerful as a unicorn shitting a rainbow.

  Chapter 53

  Any minute now, an army of Grimms was about to pour through the void and onto my lawn. Gunnar dropped his arms, looking suddenly tense as he shot me a worried look.

  Why wasn’t she here yet? I thought to myself, growing anxious.

  Then we all heard it. The angry sounds of a mob in the distance. I just stared, transfixed, eyes flicking from Rumps to the void, back and forth like a metronome, listening to the shouts.

  An eternity passed before a silhouette materialized on the other side of the void, assessing this bright new world. The shouting behind him abruptly ceased. Our world was likely blinding. Especially at sunset. After spending hundreds of years locked away in a lightless world, it would literally hurt him to step through into our world. But I had already considered that.

  “Silver Tongue, old friend. It’s been so long,” a gravelly voice spoke from the vague form.

  “We were unable to locate you, Grimm.”

  The figure grunted in acknowledgment. “I can sense Jacob’s amulet, but it feels different. He left us a time ago, promising the moon.” He paused dramatically. “But I haven’t seen any moon yet, and I don’t see one now. Just our old lord and master – face mauled – and Jacob’s amulet, but not Jacob’s amulet…” The figure shifted, as if taking a step closer, but still not stepping through. “And what have we here?” he bellowed, chuckling. “Ichabod Temple! Jacob’s old dog! How have you been, my boy? I’ve got another leash for you. It seems you misplaced yours.”

  “Leash!” I said loudly. “That was the word I was looking for earlier, Icky.”

  He ignored me. “Much has changed, Helmut…” he answered. “Come see for yourself.”

  The shadow had a name.

  “Helmut Grimm?” I burst out laughing.

  “Looks like someone woke up ready to die,” Helmut growled menacingly, his shadow seeming to shift to an aggressive stance, but it was hard to tell from the void.

  “Come on out, hat-head. I’ve got something for you,” I teased.

  “Did you have to immediately piss him off?” Gunnar growled, furred claws bursting out.

  With a swift motion, Helmut darted through the opening.

  He stood before us in a ready fighting stance, crossbow aimed my way.

  I waved at him, then put my hands in my pocket innocently.

  He squinted, practically blind, but that crossbow still aimed true. He wore a collection of dark canvas-type clothing, bands of fabric crossing his frame as if he had used – and reused – any kind of fabric he could find for clothing. He was barefoot, feet muddy, and I could bet his soles were as hard as stone. Because his boots had likely worn away years ago.

  Hundreds of years ago.

  He continued to squint in my direction, thick, unkempt, whitish blonde beard resting against his chest. His eyes were crystal blue, and his long curly hair matched the beard. Not grey, but a faded blonde. I wondered if this was a result of lack of sunlight, because his skin was alabaster.

  I tossed him something without warning.

  He squeezed the trigger of his crossbow, releasing the bolt, the moment I moved. But I had anticipated it, and had also thrown up a single glass bead while tossing him his gift. Because I had accidentally found out that the beads didn’t just work on magical attacks.

  The bead ate the bolt in a slight puff, and he caught my projectile in a fist.

  He glanced down to find a pair of expensive Ray Ban sunglasses. He frowned down at them, then looked back at me, still squinting.

  I put on my own pair of sunglasses, and looked up at the fading light. Then I turned back to him, smiling like a good host. “Might help with the bright light,” I said with a shrug. “I teased you to get you to step out of the darkness,” I admitted with a guilty grin.

  He didn’t speak, just continued staring. Then he replied in a gruff tone, as if not having spoken the words for quite some time. “Thank you…” And he put them on, instantly making him look like a dystopian version of Billy Gibbons or Dusty Hill from ZZ Top.

  “No big deal.” I pointed at Ichabod. “I’m his descendant. I don’t like him very much, and am completely open to you collaring him.” I leaned forward in a mock whisper. “But I’m not allowed to interfere, so I’ll just keep quiet over here.” I shoved my hands back in my pockets and began to idly whistle, kicking dirt with the toe of my shoes.

  I saw a smirk split Helmut’s features – again, the first in probably a very long while.

  Ichabod glared daggers at me, turning to address Helmut. “We have much to discuss, and even more to plan. I should also add that he,” Ichabod pointed at me, “killed Jacob, Wilhelm, and all the others.” Helmut’s face hardened, no longer smirking as he slowly turned to reassess me, but Ichabod continued. “Gather your Brother—”

  And Rumpelstiltskin suddenly let out a muffled grunt, disappearing right from under us all. Finally, I thought to myself, putting on a feigned mask of startled surprise and wariness, hands out of my pockets as if ready for an attack
. The Gateway had immediately winked shut, effectively trapping Helmut Grimm in our world, and leaving his Brothers behind.

  The only sign that something magical had happened had been a faint flicker of black fog, a silhouette latching onto Rumpelstiltskin, and then they both disappeared.

  Without hesitation, Ichabod latched onto Indie and Helmut, and Shadow Walked away as fast as they could, but not before shooting me a furious glare.

  He saw only my marvelous performance of surprise and fear as I scanned the area around us. Carl and Gunnar had instantly done the same, but their reactions had been genuine.

  The black fog reappeared a few moments later, sans Rumpelstiltskin. It materialized to reveal the silver-haired woman I had already met. I flung up a hand, stalling Carl and Gunnar.

  She dipped her head, shooting a wary smile at each of them before her gaze settled on me. “That was a bold move. How did you know I’d take the bait?”

  I shrugged. “More like hoped.”

  Her eyebrow rose. “That’s an ironic choice of words…” she said, studying me.

  I felt suddenly self-conscious. Did she know about my Mask? My alias as the Horseman of Hope? I didn’t think so, but I didn’t want to press her on it. That wasn’t relevant right now.

  “I thought you would want to at least discover who was knocking on your door. Once you did that, I was confident you would seize the opportunity to take back your… old employee. You seemed pretty intent on visiting a Library yesterday, so I assumed you would be equally interested in taking another of Ichabod’s toys away.”

  “We have only two of four…” she replied cryptically.

  I smiled. “They’re up to speed,” I pointed thumbs at my two friends.

  I frowned at her thoughtfully, glancing at her feet, behind her, then meeting her eyes. “I heard once that you guys leave trails of embers and sparks. Even saw it once with Rumps.” Her eyes crinkled with amusement at that. “But I don’t seem to see that anymore.”

  She nodded. “Too many people heard about it. We fixed it.”

  “Oh. Sucks for us, eh?” I said.

  She nodded, bringing the conversation back to the HOGs. “Do you have any?”

  “Not that I know of. My goal was to keep them as far away from him as possible.”

  She nodded, a pleased smile splitting her tough cheeks. “That is good. I would hate to have to resort to violence. Still, to be safe, I’m going to check the house.”

  I shook my head. “Not an option, but thank you for asking.”

  Her smile evaporated. She watched me thoughtfully, then gave a single nod. “We’ll get back to that part in a minute. How were you able to get my attention?”

  I smiled. “Took a page from the bitch who tricked me at the school,” I said, touching my hair. “At the Library. When you saved us.”

  She cursed under her breath, hand idly reaching for her hair. “I normally tie it back. Rookie mistake.” Her hand dropped, and she glanced at Gunnar and Carl, studying them from head to toe, then doing the same to me. “Smart, but what if my intent had been to simply kill you all?”

  I shifted my gaze behind her. Her shoulders tightened as she took a lateral step, fearing an immediate attack as she flung up her arms. A dozen armed monsters stood ten paces away, and two more just like them boxed her in on the other sides, Tory leading one, and Alucard the other. Her only way out was through me, or one of the walls of shifters and Freaks. No one spoke. A dragon roared in the skies, blocked from view by the massive tree.

  “This isn’t a threat. I don’t mean you any harm… tonight. This was my answer to your question. I was prepared for any eventuality. Consider this a temporary peace offering. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  She turned back to me, much more uncomfortable now. “Impressive. I didn’t hear a thing.”

  Gunnar grunted. A dismissive sound at her compliment, basically saying, of course you didn’t. They’re mine. Well, the wolves anyway. But Alucard and Tory looked bloodthirsty.

  I glared at Gunnar for good measure, but it was his bad side, so he probably didn’t even notice. Then again, I spotted the beginning of a smirk splitting his bearded cheeks, so perhaps he knew damn well I was glaring at him.

  I turned back to… “What’s your name?” I asked.

  She casually withdrew a cigar, lighting it. Gunnar let out an incredulous snort. “You smoke cigars, lady?” he chuckled, grinning.

  She frowned at him, but continued lighting, taking a few puffs, considering my question.

  But I had forgotten all about my question, my eyes transfixed on the cigar in her fingers. “That’s a Gurkha Black Dragon,” I whispered.

  She met my eyes, approving of my attention to detail, I think. It was a calculating look. “I do. My old boss gave me a box of them. Never was a smoker, but these things?” she waved the cigar in the air, it’s powerful scent wafting my way, making my knees threaten to give out. “Can change a girl’s mind.” The only other person I knew who could afford them had been…

  My father.

  And Indie’s accusation about my father working for the Syndicate threatened to destroy me. After speaking with Pan, I had harbored the notion that maybe my dad had succumbed to them against his will. Extorted. Like the Grimms. But this woman had attacked Tory’s school. And she had obviously worked for my father. My mind literally went blank for a moment.

  “You look peaked, so let’s make this quick,” the woman said, watching me thoughtfully. “My name is not important. I must think on your… offer. You sure about not giving me a tour?” I nodded firmly. “Hmm… That makes this complicated,” she said thoughtfully. After a few moments, she continued. “You may consider yourself no threat to us for the time being. Allies is a very strong word, but you’ve been moved to the don’t kill on sight, not necessarily an enemy category. It’s a transitional stage. You can either go back, or, very unlikely, you proceed to the ally group.” She turned her head to look at where the Gateway had been. “Looks like we missed one. Bummer, since their inclusion back into the fold would only make my life easier. Give me time to do my nails,” she added thoughtfully, sounding very serious. I realized that she didn’t really talk like someone of her age should. “But at least we have Silver Tongue back, if slightly… used.”

  I forced a smile on my face, blocking all thoughts of my father from my mind with a neat meditation trick I had learned to control. I plastered a guilty grin on my face instead. “At least he’s not dead… Might help with the whole ally thing, right?”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not,” she said bluntly, sounding like it wasn’t up to her. I glanced at Gunnar, sensing him about to speak. I had time to see his eye widen in surprise as he stared at the woman, and I jumped back a step, fearing she had chosen to attack the second I turned my head.

  But she was simply gone. Only a phone sat on the ground where she had stood. I scooped it up, and found a single phone number in the contacts. Likely a direct line to her.

  Gunnar growled, turning his unspoken question on me. “Does she work for…” he trailed off, confused, but not wanting to say it out loud.

  I nodded, pocketing the phone. “The Syndicate. It’s okay. I know three syllables is stretching the limits of your barking capability. I love you anyway.” I felt testy, anger growing inside me.

  He just shook his head, whether at my answer or my jibe, I didn’t know. Didn’t care.

  I clapped a few times, signaling everyone to gather round. “Phase two, gang,” I called out. “Let me catch you up to speed…” Alucard traded grips with Gunnar, and Tory murmured encouraging words to several of her students. The wolves needed no hand-holding.

  As I spoke, I made my own plans. It was time for a daddy-son date.

  Chapter 54

  I kicked the door open. After I had gently petted the wolf carving. I wasn’t cruel to animals. Unless it was Gunnar.

  So, as the door to the Armory began to open, I gave the giant door a swift kick. It crashed into the wall with a loud
bang, and I heard several voices cry out in alarm. I strode through the halls, clutching two sealed packages in my fist, trying not to squeeze them, incinerate them, and annihilate the ashes.

  My power curled inside me like a snake, slithering in agitation, ready to strike.

  My mother burst into the hallway, a defensive glare on her face that abruptly shifted to stunned silence, her mouth clicking closed. I pointed vaguely off to the right, dismissing her with a silent, unquestionable demand. “I’ll deal with you momentarily. I’m here to speak to my dear-old-dad,” I growled.

  Her face went blank, likely in understanding of exactly what I was doing here, but wise enough to not voice it in case she was wrong. I did notice her eyes dart to the packages in my fist. A tell. Because without a word, she dipped her head sadly, and retreated in the direction I had commanded.

  Which allowed me to see Pandora, who had been standing behind her, watching the scene with cool eyes. “Remember the time I showed you Achilles and his wrath?” she asked softly.

  Which caught me entirely off guard. “I don’t have time for a trip down memory lane.”

  She nodded in understanding. “I sense change in the air.”

  “Not change. Retribution,” I growled. “Punishment. Closure.”

  She watched me sadly. “Know that, like most things, his actions served multiple purposes. Those relevant to the then and those relevant to the now,” she spoke softly.

  “How nice. Did you want a trophy for single-handedly changing my mind?” I directed my eyes to the walls, tables, and shelves around us, all lined with items considered unbelievably dangerous. “Or did my father give you enough of those already? On behalf of the Syndicate.”

  Her lips tightened. Not in anger, but in acknowledgment of a well-delivered blow. “One must control one’s anger. Passion should never rule reason. Let not the sun set on your rage.”

  I smiled hungrily. “I don’t go to sleep angry,” I said. “I stay awake and plot my revenge…”