“I’m not even a Christian.” I finally stammered.
Respectfully.
“That doesn’t matter, Maker. Ragnarok, Armageddon, etc. are all the same to us. Christians got most of the facts right, so we lean towards that title.”
Famine spoke up from the table, seeming interested in our conversation for the first time in a while. “You think any of us are Christian? That would be a… what do you humans call it? Ah, yes. A Conflict of interest. We are all non-believers, judges, pious.” He chuckled. “Perhaps not pious, but cast-out. You will fit in excellently.” The last statement was said as the Rider leaned forward with a lethal grin. Apparently, I had impressed the Horsemen.
“I’ll… consider it.” I answered softly. Othello’s eyes widened in disbelief but she kept her thoughts to herself.
“So be it. You’re a good man, Nathin Temple. You can borrow my mask any time.” I shuddered at the thought. “Now, you’re body did literally die, so you must rest while I begin the paperwork. This will not go easy on your friends. Your death is all over the news. Your body was found in a bar near Soulard.” Death smiled sadly, waved a hand over my head, and I promptly blacked out to the sensation of my forehead catching on fire.
Chapter 42
I woke slowly to the sensation of warm air gently brushing my eyelids, soft murmured sobs and comforting voices filling my ears. Unsure of who was near me, I carefully cracked my crusty eyelids open. Someone must have super glued them together because it took me a mountain of effort.
I was in the Temple Mausoleum.
And my friends surrounded me. Gunnar comforted Ashley in a close hug several feet away, his eyes chips of cold stone, and Misha and Tory were holding hands, sobbing softly beside them. Othello stood off to the side, alone, staring up at the Temple family tree as if she knew she wasn’t welcome in their grief. Then again, she knew I wasn’t truly dead. Had she told them it was just a ruse? No, they wouldn’t be so grief-stricken if she had.
Then I spotted Indie. She was standing entirely alone, staring blankly. I took a deep breath and sat up, causing a slight creak of flexing wood.
Indie stiffened at the soft sound, then slowly began to turn around. She saw me sitting up.
From inside a coffin.
She… blinked. I smiled tiredly. Then she took a shuffled step backwards and gasped. Gunnar glanced over his shoulder and saw her staring at the not-so-dead Temple heir. His forearms shifted to claws as he shoved Ashley away to safety. Everyone turned to face me then, eyes wide in utter confusion. And then an enormous amount of rage. The sudden shift in emotions hit me on a physical level, like a giant pillow had clipped my ears — powerful but not painful. Claws appeared from Misha’s arms with a snicker-snack like Marvel’s Wolverine. Her eyes flared red, a feral gleam catching the soft light. Tory’s hand shattered the table she was using for support as she suddenly clenched her fist. And Indie cocked a freaking pistol held in a shaking hand. Right, I probably needed to put them at their ease or something. Before they made my die for real.
“I’m not dead yet.” I declared in my best Monty Python voice. Then I began coughing. My throat was bone dry.
Ashley and Tory passed out in unison, crumpling to the floor like wet laundry.
Indie just stared at me with glassy eyes — shock taking over. The gun clattered to the floor uselessly, causing me to flinch in case it went off. With my luck, I wouldn’t have been surprised it if took out the leg of the coffin I rested in, sending me crashing to the ground where I would instantly be devoured by my best friends. No one else moved.
I began to feel guilty about putting them through this. No one spoke, adding to my guilt, but Gunnar was growling and sniffing the air hesitantly. Then he bent over Ashley, keeping one wary eye cast over his shoulder at me. “Uh. Did you get my message?” I asked Indie. She continued to stare blankly back at me. “I didn’t do so hot on my communicating, did I? Also, it looks like you’re unemployed, as Plato’s Cave was smited while you were away…” I turned to Ashley, who had been violently shaken awake by Gunnar and was groggily getting to her feet. “Temple Industries has a big hole in it. Crater, to be exact. Not sure how much that is going to cost to fix, but we’ll probably need to talk about it. Later. I’m kind of tired right now. And thirsty.” Blinks answered me. “So, how were your vacations?” I rasped through my dry throat.
Then Indie covered the distance between us like a ninja and pounced on top of me. She began poking, prodding, and kissing every square inch of my body. It felt glorious. I sighed, leaning back into my coffin as I held her close, breathing in her scent.
“How?!” She demanded between angry kisses and hugs.
“It’s a long story. I’m just-”
Pow!
She smacked the living daylights out of me with an open palm like fire. Stars exploded across my vision like the Big Bang. Othello burst out laughing as the stars ever so slowly began to fade away. I continued as if nothing had happened. “Glad you’re alright. Is your mom okay?”
She stared back at me, heaving. “Yes. Mild concussion, but she’s fine.” Her next words were precise, clipped, and dripping with warning. “What the hell happened while we were gone? The whole city is a buzz with talk of murders, explosions, and attacks.” She shook her head, focusing on the important question. “How are you alive? They found your body three days ago. This doesn’t make any sense.” She began to sob, unable to maintain her anger, let alone comprehend my revival.
Othello chimed in. “Oh, he’s better than alright. He stole Death’s mask!”
Indie’s sobs silenced in a blink. She turned an icy gaze to Othello. “She finally decides to speak. Who might you be, mysterious stranger?” Her tone dripped venom, even more of a warning than she had used when speaking with me. “Your voice sounds vaguely familiar…” Indie’s eyes were diamonds as they turned back to me. I realized that Indie knew exactly who she was, and that I was about to pay for it.
Unfortunately for me, I had been an open book on my past romances.
“She’s a friend of mine. Othello, meet my friends. Friends, meet Othello. She helped me while you were out of town.”
“And do you make a habit of sleeping with all of your friends?” Indie’s voice was brittle.
Gunnar chimed in, still sporting his werewolf claws, as if unsure what to make of everything. “He tried once with me, but I was able to resist. Thank god.”
“That was in the past. We were much younger then.” Gunnar burst out laughing. “Her, not you, you damn dirty dog.” I scowled at him, fighting a grin. I turned to Indie. “I didn’t even know you back then.” I said softly.
Indie’s eyes were fire. “What about while I was in the hospital with my mother?” I blinked, and then Othello burst out laughing. I felt an icy shiver down my spine. Did she know about our makeout session? Me being a dirty cheater? I had completely forgotten about it, thinking I had been about to die.
Priorities.
“Um… what?” I answered politically instead.
“Don’t you what me, Nathin Laurent Temple! She answered the phone when I called, and led me to believe…” She rounded on Othello.
Othello finally stopped laughing and held out a hand. “Relax. I swear. I don’t poach. He wouldn’t stop talking about you and it made me… jealous. But I understand now. What we had was in the past… where it will stay. He loves you. Not me. In fact, it was quite disgusting to be around him, what with all the Indie this, and Indie that commentary. I acted like an adolescent schoolgirl. And for that I apologize.” Indie’s metaphorical territorial fur flattened a bit at that.
Bros.
Othello was a true Bro.
I would have held up a fist, allowing the glorious bro-light of the bro-universe to imbue my arm with a bro-ish salute if I hadn’t already been in enough hot water. But I knew Othello understood my glance and everything it entailed.
But then she ruined it. She began to babble on unnecessarily.
“Everything I told yo
u on the phone was true. We were tired. We had just survived a big fight with things way out of my league. A Greater Demon. Girl Scouts. A pack of Werewolves. The Academy. We were sleeping in the same bed. I kept him safe while he was injured. That’s all. I swear. I owe him my life. Literally. You wouldn’t believe what he did while you were all gone. It was beyond impressive. Even to the Ange-” I interrupted quickly. This was getting out of control.
“Wait, you called? I thought that was Gunnar!” I practically shouted to overcome Othello’s diarrhea of the mouth.
Gunnar shook his head and Indie nodded. Othello blushed, admitting her white lie from when I had caught her answering my phone that night. Right before she had hidden my phone under the covers. My face began to heat up at that memory, but luckily no one saw it. Indie spoke up. “And what about the FBI, or that… Demon? You said you were going to work on your communication!”
Gunnar cleared his throat, approaching my casket as he held up a clawed hand. “I think we should give him a minute. Maybe he can tell us from the beginning.” I nodded gratefully, staring at his claw pointedly. He smiled slightly, allowing it to shift back to normal. He still looked wary, as if not sure exactly what to make of all of this. After all, I had risen from the dead. Gunnar then literally lifted me out of the casket and set me on my feet. After stumbling on weak legs, he supported me over to a group of couches in a nearby alcove. Where a toasty fire was roaring. I fell down into the couch. Indie jealously, and very obviously, sat as close to me as possible. Othello sat in a chair in front of me, understanding Indie’s territorial claim.
“It all began when a roaring drunk wizard,” I pointed a thumb at my chest, “An Angel, and a Horseman of the Apocalypse walked into a bar…”
Their eyes widened and their jaws dropped further with each word, shaking their heads in disbelief and amazement as Othello backed up and clarified several points. Her version seemed to paint me as much more of a badass than my version did. Not how I saw it. I had been running from fire to fire with a leaky water bucket, trying to put out a raging inferno as someone else poured gasoline onto the flames.
I told them about the Academy stealing my powers, my parole officer, Gavin, working as a double agent and setting all my friends up to leave town. That elicited a dark growl from Gunnar, which was gently calmed by Ashley placing a soft hand on his knee. I told them how Gavin had even hurt Indie’s mom when she wouldn’t break up with me. Indie stiffened at that, a single tear spilling down her cheeks as she realized just how close to death her mother had been. I explained the source of my night terrors. The FBI arresting me. Othello busting me out. Gunnar grunted at that. Death, the Angels, the Demons, and of course, the Werewolves. Gunnar seemed particularly amused at mention of the wolves. Tory nodded with a grin, “He wasn’t that tough. I slapped the shit out of him in the bar. Not even a challenge.”
“I’d like to meet him.” Gunnar said with a distant, menacing grin.
Indie was clutching my hand. “You make it sound so nonchalant, while Othello paints it as the scariest few days of her life.”
A new, familiar voice spoke up from behind the couch. “Nate is too humble. He literally battled agents of Heaven and Hell after his own people stole his magic and tried to extort him to give up the Armory. And he still won. He’s earned quite a reputation.”
Gunnar had jumped to his feet at the first word of the intruder, claws shifting entirely, and the threads on his clothes popping and snapping as his body began to mutate into partial wolf form. Everyone was glaring with murderous intent at the creature behind me. Misha sported red dragon claws and a hungry, eager smile. I held up a hand to calm everyone down, but was secretly proud of my friends. I didn’t turn to look at him, speaking over my shoulder instead. “Shut up, Death. You’re going to make me blush. Everyone, meet Death — the Horseman of the Apocalypse. A recent drinking buddy of mine, and general bad influence.”
I then turned slowly, gently applying pressure to Indie’s hand in reassurance. She looked terrified. Everyone seemed to calm down a few notches as Death politely approached our gathering. “Don’t worry. He’s not on my list. His death was a ruse. Othello and I had to make it look legitimate.” He waved a hand at our surroundings. Othello nodded guiltily, blushing slightly as Death smiled at her.
Hmm… That wasn’t weird.
“My apologies for the discomfort this may have caused anyone.” Indie grunted at the understatement. “This is merely a courtesy call. Checking up on my patient… and new friend.” Death added the last with almost a questioning tone. I nodded, giving him a respectful nod.
The tension in the room slowly dissipated. But no one spoke, as if fearing what he or she was supposed to say or not say to such a feared legend. Death, with all the charm I had first seen in him from the guy at the bar, soothed everyone’s concerns. Individually. He moved like a wraith from person to person, murmuring a private word or two to each of my friends. I don’t know what was said, but he left each person as white as a ghost, yet also smiling at something only they knew. It was as if he had told them something that eased a hidden dam of emotions they had bottled up for years. As if he had given them peace of mind. The skin on my arms shivered as he approached Indie. She was close enough that I could hear. He also spent longer at her side than any of my other friends.
“As soon as I heard about Gavin’s attack I rushed to your mother’s side in the hospital in Colorado. She had been attacked by a Demon that he had sent. After seeing to her immediate safety, I decided that I needed to meet Nate, here. To judge his worth. To see what kind of enemy would push Gavin to cross such a line as attacking a peaceful, defenseless old woman. So I went to the bar, Achilles Heel. I learned of his night terrors. His parents’ murder. His bravery against the dragons. And much more that I’m sure he didn’t realize he had shared. I have the gift of being able to draw out life stories from people. Then I was awed as I watched him stand up to a very, very powerful bully. All because he found it necessary to find justice for his parents’ murder. To fulfill a Blood Debt. He was a pillar of… righteousness, despite standing against a creature that hopelessly outmatched him. I wish I could have been half the man at his age… After that, I watched over your mother while she was in the hospital. Because Nate had impressed me… and you had impressed him. Be comforted in the fact that your mother will live to a ripe old age, dying of natural causes. In the distant future.”
Then he stepped a polite distance back from all of us. I was dumbfounded. Indie’s jaw was wide open. I touched her hand but she didn’t respond, so I leaned closer. “I guess I’m as awesome as I think I am.” Her eyes flashed towards me, as if just waking up. Then she leaned forward very aggressively and kissed me right on the mouth, wrapping her arms around me in a hug that hurt so bad it felt good. I patted her back as she rested her head on my shoulders, sobbing lightly, overwhelmed with joy at her mother’s guardian ang… Horseman.
Death cleared his throat. Everyone turned to face him, eyes filled with various flavors of appreciation and gratitude. “I hope that allayed any concerns you may have about me.” Everyone nodded, so he continued. “As I just said, this is only a courtesy call. I received a request from a mutual friend.” I squinted at Death, wondering what he was talking about. Then Charon appeared, nodding respectfully to me from his boat, drinking a beer. Luckily, he was keeping his face covered by his burlap hood. “He really thinks a lot of you.” Death added.
“Well, I’d rather not meet him on official business any time soon. Again. Or you.” I hoped Charon wasn’t about to speak, or else all of my friends would find out what it was like to soil their pants. That voice was going to haunt my dreams. I just knew it.
Death nodded with a grin. “Me neither. Me neither.”
“How’s Gruff?” I asked, curious about his horse.
“He’s fine. He was… intrigued by you, and your connection to Grimm.” Death arched a curious brow. “Is it merely a coincidence that…” he glanced to my friends, and then continued
cryptically, “That you already have a horse to ride?” His emphasis on the last word made me shudder slightly, but I don’t think anyone else understood his meaning. Except Othello, but her face was blank, giving nothing away. I was not going to become the Horseman of Hope. First off, it sounded cheesy. Second, it seemed like a horrible job to take Hope from the world at the End of Days. They had only been kidding with me, right? I shrugged, ignoring my friends’ curious looks.
Death turned to my friends. “I have something to show all of you. Some people I would like to introduce you to.” My shoulders tightened.
“That’s probably not necessary-” I began nervously. My friends did not need to meet any of the other Horsemen.
Or Angels.
Or Demons.
“It was not a question.” Death answered coolly, reminding me of my place.
Wow.
My friends nodded as one, intrigued. We climbed into Charon’s boat, which seemed much larger than the first time I had ridden in it. I followed suit. “Just make sure you leave your hood up, Charon, and please don’t speak. Your breath is literally fatal.” He took another sip of his beer. I pointed at it frantically like a tattletale and looked at Death, who sat across from me. “You okay with our driver being drunk?” Death shrugged. Charon merely took another unconcerned drink as everyone climbed inside the boat. Then the world around us shifted between one blink of the eye and the next, and I found myself back on the River of Souls. My friends thought it really interesting. I merely felt tense.
Who wanted to meet my friends? Was this a trap of some kind? I mean, I really didn’t know Death all that well. Was this a trap? Kidnap me and my friends? My unease began to build at an alarming rate as I thought of all the horrible things that might await us. After an indeterminable amount of time, my friends realized it was actually quite boring to float down the River of Lost Souls. There were, after all, no sights. Just nothingness. Then a faint green haze abruptly appeared before our boat. I spotted towering statues on either side of the river, menacing creatures standing guard to what seemed like a large amphitheater.
Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2) Page 36