I smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah…”
“Listen. You dominated an unknown Beast possessing your home, befriended the Four Horsemen, gave a licking to the Grimms, worked with Elders, slapped down the Syndicate, and even batted down the most powerful of the Fae… I think you’re doing just fine.”
I let out a frustrated breath. “That was all luck. And friends. And none of that matters if Ichabod wakes up a god.”
“Gods have been awake before. Really depends on which god he’s bringing back.” He leveled a fatherly stare on me. “And where you stand when the cards fall…”
Before I had a chance to press him on the prophecy, Mallory burst into the room, panting as if having run several miles to find me.
I jumped to my feet, nerves suddenly feeling like live wires. “What happened?”
“Ichabod…” he gasped. “He’s at the gates. You never put the defenses back online!”
Shit. I hadn’t reinstituted the wards keeping my enemies out. I tried now, mentally reaching out to Chateau Falco, but heard no response. Was it because I was in the Armory?
I jumped out of my chair, but my father’s words made me hesitate. “Talk to him. Try to let him know that not all of the Syndicate is poison. Much like the Academy. And tell him that I would have liked to meet him, maybe I could have even talked him off the ledge.”
I nodded, not feeling too optimistic about the result. “We still have time. We’ll pick this up later, Dad,” I said, forcing a smile. I hoped I wasn’t lying.
“Liar,” he grinned. “Get over here. Death waits on no man.”
Like two men on the gallows, we embraced. No words. Just physical touch.
It’s a powerful thing. I felt my anger, my rage, my sadness pulled away, and in its place, was a roaring bonfire of hope. My dad had given me the tools I needed to become the greatest form of myself.
Arete.
The rest was up to me.
“We wanted you to have the world, Nate. Make it a better place,” he whispered in my ear.
Then he shoved me away, taking a few giant puffs of his cigar. I did the same.
Mallory grabbed the bottle, raising it for a toast. We smiled back at the wild god, raising our glasses. A sensation seemed to bloom to life in that small space, like a budding flower. A band of brotherhood – immortal, indomitable, steadfast, and resolute. We drank from our glasses while Mallory liberally guzzled the bottle.
Then Mallory and I began to run.
“Bring the terror, Nate! Memento Mori!” my father shouted as we fled the room.
And power seemed to roar up inside me in response, fire suddenly doused with gasoline.
Chapter 56
I stood on the opposite side of the gate, the Bentley idling behind me in a soft purr, staring out at my ancestor. He was dressed in a casual navy suit with a crisp white dress shirt. The foreboding gate extended high above his head, parallel bars of old Damascus Steel bridging from one old stone pillar to another, the words Chateau Falco looked haunting, a warning, a promise.
I glanced down at my phone as I received a text from a contact I had created, meddling old wench. It said two words: it’s done. So, she was the head dame of the Academy again. I pocketed my phone, smiling to myself. It was early, only an hour after I had last seen him. But he didn’t look the same now. Something was different.
Ichabod appraised the Beware of… partially-destroyed sign with a chuckle. Then he met my gaze. He smiled politely, as if extending an olive branch.
“Do you eat food?” he asked me.
I frowned. “Well, of course I eat food.”
“Let’s grab dinner and talk. Under truce. Away from… everything,” he waved a hand, encompassing our surroundings.
“You mean away from my protections.”
He sighed. “Your wards are down. If I meant you harm, you would already be harmed.”
I frowned, opening my mouth to argue, but he forestalled me, raising a palm. “That was not a threat. I understand our interactions have been… unnecessarily tense. I want to dine with my descendant, break bread, talk, and leave on good terms, hopefully.”
“I’m not joining your posse.”
He shrugged. “All I ask is that you join me for the length of a meal with an open mind. After that, you can leave with the hatred in your heart intact, if that is what you wish.” He paused, waiting. “Although, I really hope that isn’t the result. Come,” he called, “you have my word that I will not harm you.” He didn’t swear it on his power, but he came from a time when his word had been his handshake, and I could tell, even though I didn’t like it, that he was being sincere.
What did he have to gain here?
But I nodded, tossing the keys to Mallory. “Be back soon. Watch the house.”
And I Shadow Walked through the gate rather than bothering to open it. His shoulders tightened at my sudden use of magic, but relaxed after seeing I had just been too lazy to go through the laborious process of buzzing Dean to open the gates. We climbed into his Cadillac Escalade, a new model, completely chromed out with all the bells and whistles, but I didn’t acknowledge this. I just sat patiently, waiting for the other shoe to drop as he carefully drove through town, a pleased, relaxed look on his face.
We sat in a relatively quiet steak house, a table well-apart from any other guests, in the back corner near a window overlooking the city from five stories up. I had been here before. Frequently. With Indie. It had been our spot. A familiar face appeared, our usual waiter.
“Mr. Piper,” I smiled. “It’s been a while.”
He nodded, concealing his grin from his coworkers. “It’s John, Master Temple. I hope you’ve been well.”
“Cut the bullshit, John,” I said, leaning forward. “Did you get the girl or not? The one…” my eyes flicked to Ichabod, who was watching with sincere interest, “that Indie and I helped you snatch. The one you claimed was out of your league.” It was difficult to keep the happiness on my face after mentioning Indie, but surprisingly, Ichabod shot me a saddened look, recognizing my pain, and not gloating over it. Which was just… weird.
“With you two lovebirds as my inspiration for what lay in store for me, I wasn’t going to accept anything less than a yes. You two gave me hope.” He grinned. Stab, twist, rip. My mouth tasted like ashes.
“You got a date?” I managed to maintain my smile.
“I got a ring,” he corrected smugly.
I jumped up to shake his hand, speaking without thinking. “Wait till I tell… Indie.” I said, smile still plastered on my face, but it felt cracked, about to slip. I noticed a chef glaring at John. “Do me a favor, John. My guest and I desire a little privacy, and even less attention tonight. But I’m proud of you. We’ll grab drinks soon. You can tell… me all about it.”
John caught my tone, reverting back to professionalism, nodding at my request for privacy.
Ichabod ordered an expensive bottle of Opus One, and we each ordered a Filet Mignon, chef’s choice on every detail. John brought the wine back out a few minutes later, filled our glasses, and departed without a word.
I buried the talk of Indie, and studied Ichabod in the dim lighting. He had cleaned up. Trimmed his beard, cut his hair, and he struck a rather dashing figure. I idly wondered if I would carry any of his features when I was his… well, when I was older. I doubted I would make it to seventy, let alone four-hundred-and-seventy, or whatever he was.
I had seen Ichabod in almost every type of emotion. Shame, guilt, fear, anger, and righteousness. But I had never really seen him calm. I had seen him in a good mood, but I had never seen him look so relaxed, which began to set off all sorts of alarm bells in my head.
He lifted his glass. “To fathers, our role models, our aspirations to greatness,” he toasted.
I smiled, unable to stop myself, because his words were genuine, and heartfelt.
“I could ask how you’ve been, how you like your wine, about the Sanctorum, and a list of other things that would waste tim
e, and leave you on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop, so I’ll just cut to the chase. If that works for you?” he asked, taking another sip of his wine, eyes lidded as he hummed his appreciation.
I nodded. “That would be preferable,” I replied. As politely as possible.
“I have acquired a Hand of God.” He leaned forward, smiling lightly. “No thanks to you,” he chuckled. But he didn’t appear to be boasting. I had seen him boasting. He was genuinely amused. Not amused that I had failed, but simply amused, as if I had said a funny, casual joke.
“Oh,” was all I could manage, my mind reeling. Who had he stolen it from? But it didn’t really matter. Water under the bridge. He had a HOG… he snapped me out of my fears.
“I regret our current situation,” he spoke softly, swirling his glass, watching the wine whirl.
“You mean that I don’t want to be part of your evil plan?” Here it was. The Ichabod I knew.
He let out a sigh, frustrated, but not at me, at my words. “No, I regret that I didn’t take the time to get to know you before embarking on my quest for vengeance.” He lifted pained eyes to mine, and my breath tightened in my chest.
It was like I was talking to a stranger. And I instantly flashed back to another dinner, when a Grimm had used his powers to imposter Indie. Was this really Ichabod?
But… the man before me had mentioned things Ichabod would never have told Helmut Grimm. And no matter how good Indie was, I knew it couldn’t be her. I would have sensed some flicker of reaction upon seeing our old friend, John Piper. Especially at his good news, which was pretty much solely accredited to Indie’s love advice.
So, this really was Ichabod, but not the Ichabod I knew. He interrupted my thoughts.
“Long ago, I risked my life to destroy the group of friends that I knew betrayed my father. And I failed. I was captured,” he said, face a mask of grief. “All I wanted was to avenge him. Punish Castor Queen. Destroy the Grimms. But I trapped myself with them, thinking I would be clever enough to escape. Hubris,” he muttered, taking another drink.
“I’ve never had that problem,” I admitted with a sarcastic grin. He smiled back.
“But you know all of that. What I’m trying to say is that I spent centuries building, growing, and feeding my anger, trapped in a leash held by my enemies. So, I was a bit… wild when I escaped. Feed your beast long enough, and you soon realize it may be calling more shots than you intend.” He winked at me. “Free advice.”
“I think I already know something about that,” I admitted.
He smiled, leaning back. “Here I was, back in the land of the living, released by my very descendent. And what do I do? I flee. To go back to war. Back to what I knew. Living like a feral animal. And never once considering the importance of reconnecting with my only living relative. The last living Temple. Even though you had just been through hell as well. A hell that I had caused, as a leashed dog in their servitude. Even worse, they hated Temples because of my actions so long ago. They hated you because of me. But I took no responsibility for that, or care for your pain. Like a good soldier, I just went back to war. I think they call it PTSD now…”
I studied him, part of me still waiting for the old Ichabod to return, but also surprisingly interested in this new version of the man I thought I had known. My ancestor. I wasn’t sold or anything, but I was more open to listening now. “I’m pretty sure they would have found a reason to hate me with or without your transgressions against them,” I smiled.
He chuckled, nodding. “Likely. You do have my stubborn streak. They don’t like those.”
“Then why bring them back?” I asked, not as an attack, but truly not understanding.
He sighed. “A necessary evil. The Syndicate knows I’m back, and knows I’m gunning for them, even if they might not have the knowledge of why…” he met my eyes. “About their crimes against my father. I’m sure that was done off the books, as they say.”
I waited, because he hadn’t answered the question.
“I need soldiers, to protect me, but also to help me fuel my plans. Being around me will give them Maker powers, for those who don’t already possess such natural gifts. Doing the spell on my own would leave me weakened, and no one wants that. No one even wants me to continue pursuing this, refusing to even believe that the Syndicate is real, let alone that they’re pulling the strings behind the curtain,” he admitted, a touch of anger in his features. But he quenched it instantly, taking another drink of his wine, and refilling our glasses.
I hadn’t even realized I had almost finished mine.
“What if you lose control of them?” I countered.
He met my eyes, nodding. “That’s one thing I’m here about. Indie can control them, but… she has fled.” My heart stopped at the truth in his eyes. “I don’t know where she is. And, if you hadn’t noticed, she’s a little… unbalanced.”
“But that is your fault! You brain-washed her,” I whispered, anger rising back to the surface, but remembering to keep my tone low. Indie had fled? Good lord…
He shook his head sadly. “I assure you, I did not.”
I leaned back, refusing to believe him. “That… can’t be possible. She has changed too much in too short a time. That’s not natural. Something had to have happened.”
“Something did happen, but I swore an oath not to divulge any details.” He leaned forward slowly, an eager gleam in his eyes. “Know that I would if I could. But. I. Cannot. Speak. Of. It.” He drew out each word, emphasizing them. “But I’m hoping you can find out for yourself. Go. Speak with her,” he pleaded.
I growled to myself, punching my palm with my other fist in frustration. “She won’t listen.”
“I fear you’re right. But there is no telling what she may do on her own. I can say this. Her hatred for the Syndicate almost surpasses my own.”
I frowned, wanting to scream, force him to tell me. But I sat in my seat, shaking subtly with unspent tension. I needed to hit something. Blow something up. I took a deep breath, meeting his eyes. “I understand your hatred, but there has to be a better way. I’ve shown you a better way.”
He studied me. “I spent hundreds of years in darkness so complete that I couldn’t even remember natural light. Only torches, and even those were few and far between – a luxury. I pondered this, planned, debated, schemed.” His eyes were distant, cold, merciless. “I came to no other conclusion. My father was right. Only a god could dig them out of their holes, reveal their true identities.” He leaned forward. “Those we trust the most have the potential of hurting us the most. Some of our most trusted friends, those like Castor Queen, who brought me candies to a dinner at Chateau Falco only days before betraying us to the Academy. I would have bet that the devil himself couldn’t have broken that man.” He locked eyes with me. “And my father was the Founder. One of them. Even he didn’t see it coming.”
I shivered involuntarily, wondering if I was reliving their lives, that one of my friends was about to stab me in the back, destroying all that I had built. All that I had saved. Conspiracy. Even the Academy hadn’t believed me.
“The Syndicate haven’t had their enforcers, their Grimms, and that is the only thing that has saved you since your parents were murdered.” He took a deep pull from his drink. “Until now, that is. Because they have Rumpelstiltskin back. Who knows what tricks he has up his sleeves? And now Indie is gone. It is not good. It is potentially fatal. No matter where you stand.”
He didn’t sound as if he was condemning me, even though he had every right to. Because I had handed Rumpelstiltskin off to the Syndicate. Whether he knew that part or not, I wasn’t certain. I had aided them, even though I hated them for everything they had done, both to me and my friends. To the world. But, like my father, I had knowingly chosen to assist them.
Ah, I love it when judgment comes around, full circle.
Chapter 57
Ichabod nodded at me. “Even though I have every right to be, I am not angry with you. I take res
ponsibility. Rather than sitting you down, like now, and explaining the full story, I chose to pursue it on my own. You did what all Temples have always done. Tried to do the right thing.”
I nodded. “Trying doesn’t mean succeeding. I’m beginning to learn that.” And I took a gamble. “You know my father worked for them. But did you know it wasn’t by choice? That he was extorted? They promised to harm my mother if he didn’t comply. Harm me. He was also just trying to do the right thing,” I said softly.
He nodded in understanding. “It’s how they work. The path to hell is paved with good intentions…” he recited. Again, not a judgment of my father, just an observation. “They must be eradicated. Waking a god is the only path to success. A god can end them all with one swift action, no matter where they hide.”
I sighed, holding up my palm. “That’s what scares me. The ability and power to eradicate an entire group of people with one thought. Who is to say this god won’t do the same to you. To me. To anyone? It’s too much power. Power corrupts, but absolute power—”
“Corrupts absolutely,” he finished, smiling sadly in agreement. “I know. But consider this…” Our waiter, John, approached with two steaming steaks, and Ichabod requested another bottle of wine. I was famished, and dug into my steak immediately. The marbled meat practically melted on my tongue, and was just the right side of rare. I saw Ichabod’s eyes momentarily close as he took his first bite, murmuring his approval.
“It took me a while to be able to stomach such rich food after I came back,” he said, neatly tucking into his steak. We finished our meal in silence, John pouring our drinks with the new bottle, then leaving. We were both lost in thought until we completed our meal, shoving away the plates. John retrieved them, bowing as he left.
“You were saying,” I prompted.
“These gods… They were once here, in our very world, correct?” I nodded. “And yet they didn’t destroy it.”
Tiny Gods: A Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Book 6 (The Temple Chronicles) Page 29