I nodded. “Least I could do after your generous help.” He merely watched me, a sad but happy smile on his face. “I couldn’t afford him tainting my world.”
“No, can’t have that.” He chuckled lightly, taking a sip of his tea. His hand rattled as he replaced the cup. “It’s a good thing you have a… friend who likes to clean…” Then he belted out a laugh that startled me, and he pounded a meaty hammer-sized fist into his knee. “Clean!” he roared in giant bursts of laughter, tears flowing freely now.
I nodded slowly. “Yeah,” I forced a smile. “My thoughts exactly.”
“You should probably leave.” He said, gathering his composure. “It’s not… safe for you here. Not yet. I’m not… stable, as the Queen would say.”
Rather than pushing him on that, I nodded. “Thank you for your hospitality…” It was pretty obvious that I was searching for a name.
“Are you sure you want that information, Maker?” he leaned forward, eagerly.
I suddenly realized that I didn’t. I really didn’t. I began to shake my head.
“No let, obligation, or lien. Freely given. As to a… friend.”
Well, I wasn’t about to deny him the privilege of hearing his name. We were apparently pals now. I finally nodded politely.
He leaned back, took a deep breath. And touched his hat, grinning like a mad man.
I stared, confused. He tapped it again, eyes beginning to dance wildly, maniacally.
I stifled a gasp, and murmured, “Hat… Hatter. The m-” I slammed my mouth shut with a click.
He nodded. “It’s alright. The Mad Hatter. Nice to see you again, my friend.” He snapped his fingers, and the world winked out of existence, and a screaming sound filled my ears. Rumpelstiltskin. I opened my eyes, panting hoarsely, to find my friends circling me at the Dueling Grounds.
I was back.
Questions erupted from all sides, but I simply lay there, a faint dazed smile on my face.
Chapter 60
I sat in an antique leather chair. No wheels. No frills. Just an old office chair from several hundred years ago. Dust covered the room. It had taken me a good five minutes to clear enough off the desk and chair to even consider sitting down.
I waited, the book from Rumpelstiltskin resting on the desk before me. The cat purred in my lap as I stroked its fur. It didn’t seem the tiniest bit concerned at my display of magic only moments before. The room was filled to bursting with bric-a-brac. An old globe, a compass, a sextant, an abacus, books by the hundreds, several half-empty crystal decanters of now dried amber liquid, and candles. Dozens of candles. Skulls and random artifacts rested on shelves, obscure paintings and newspaper clippings dotted the wall. All were covered with a thick patina of dust. It was as bizarre a collection as one would expect to find at 221b Baker Street.
The cat meowed.
And then I heard it.
Footsteps.
As I waited, I briefly inspected the four quadrants I had created in the room, feeling the various stages of life associated with each. Then the door opened, and two figures stood in the shadows, frozen at the sight of me. Here. In this sanctuary.
I had only expected one of them.
A familiar face stepped closer, studying me cautiously. Then at the lines of power crossing the room. He lifted a hand, and it crossed one of the metaphysical boundaries I had created, instantly bathing his hand in a light pattering of snow. He twisted it about, snowflakes falling from nowhere to land on his warm palm. A light dusting carpeted the wooden floor.
The other three quadrants displayed the other three seasons. One section as warm and vibrant as summer, revealed one of the long dead plants now abundantly thriving with full blooming flowers the like I had never seen before. The man’s eyes tracked to the other two quadrants in quick succession, noticing a few dead leaves scraping about on the floor in an endless circle as if caught in a mild breeze, and the other was explained most prominently by a series of sprouts emerging from the depths of one of the skulls on the desk. I sat between Spring and Autumn, half my body in each quadrant.
“I see you’ve been reading,” the man murmured, eyes settling on the book on the desk.
I nodded. The cat lurched from my lap to stretch on the table, tail flicking to and fro as it meowed at the man, looking for a back scratch. The man slowly approached, cautious to not appear threatening, and obliged the feline.
He dipped his head at the cat. “Is this how you discovered me?” I nodded with a slow smile.
“Led me directly to your hidey hole. But I didn’t connect the dots until I remembered the illusion spell you two used with Van Helsing.”
Ichabod nodded, a small smile of pride. “They’re handy,” he shrugged. He pointed idly at my cane, leaning against the desk. “Clever. Did you figure it out on your own?” I shook my head. His face was stoic, harsh, entirely different than when I had last seen him with a collar around his throat. He nodded, muttering, “Sprites,” under his breath, but it sounded appreciative, as if he was familiar with them.
But then, he would be familiar with them. “It helps with the voice… or whatever it is. Still, it’s always by my side now, whether I want it to be or not. Unless you can tell me how to actually fix the problem rather than carrying a shiny band aid everywhere.”
He stroked his chin. “Perhaps. In time. I’m surprised your parents never told you that your gift was… tainted.”
I stared. “They were murdered before we could talk about it…”
He nodded in sympathy. “Listen-”
“Is she going to come inside, or just stand there?” I asked frostily, recognizing the scent. “I would like to know exactly what is going on.”
The man sighed, and Indie entered the room, looking ashamed. “I’m sorry, Nate.”
I leaned forward, face hard. “For what, exactly, my beloved?”
Her face broke, but I saw the brief flashes of lightning in her eyes. She was mad. Not at me, but at the situation. “I need… training.”
“Seems you had a pretty good handle on things at the Dueling Grounds.”
The man spoke up. “She can now prevent herself from losing control. Bravo.” He mocked. Indie nodded to herself. “She needs proper training if she is to protect herself. And who better to teach her than me?”
I studied him. “About that…” His eyes danced eagerly. “Do I call you the Meddler, like Rumpelstiltskin did? I know it was you swiping up all the books I intended to buy over the past few weeks. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Meddler indeed.”
He folded his arms. “All to lead you to the black book…” he said softly. “Among other things.” My gaze tightened a bit, wondering what he was referring to so cryptically.
But I nodded, hiding my thoughts. “Gee, thanks,” I muttered, deciding to continue my previous line of questioning. Might as well get it over with… “Or do I call you Ichabod, or Maker, or…” I leaned back, folding my own arms. “…Gramps.”
Indie gasped.
Ichabod only smiled, and nodded, implying that all were true.
“I saw the Mausoleum. Imagine my surprise when a name popped out on the family tree. And the gem was sparkling. A little high up on the tree’s roots to make any sense.” He grinned, but seemed surprised at how I had discovered it, apparently not thinking about the family tree. Maybe he didn’t know of it. I hadn’t traced everything back to find out who built it and when, and how Ichabod’s lineage tied into it.
But the crazy thing was this. I was standing face to face with the man – the Maker – that had banished the Grimms hundreds of years ago. A veritable legend. He had sacrificed his life to take them out. All of them. The last time I had seen him, Ichabod had been wearing a collar and had been under their thrall. I had released him, but had always thought he had been just another Grimm. Then my trip to the Mausoleum had proven otherwise. Seeing his name in my family tree had startled me to the core. Having Ichabod under the Grimm’s control also answered the question about how Ja
cob had known all the secrets of my home. Ichabod had been forced to share the information. If I hadn’t gone to the Mausoleum, I never would have discovered any of this. Ichabod interrupted my thoughts.
“She’s not the only one who needs training… Nate.” The last sounded proud, but painful. I nodded.
“Tell me about it.”
He pointed at the book. “That will help. A bit. Study it. Hopefully, I’ll be finished with Indie by then.”
“Who said you can take her?” I asked coldly.
Ichabod shrugged, and turned to Indie. “I want to go, Nate. I’m no good without his help,” she whispered.
Ichabod turned back to me. “This is temporary. Trust me, I want a student like I want a hot iron in my ass.” I let out a surprised laugh, and looked up to see a resemblance of my father’s grin on Ichabod’s face. A very distant resemblance, but it was there. “The Syndicate will not rest long until retaliating. I knew he would come out of the woodwork sooner or later. But I had to lure him. I’ve been following the trails of embers and sparks ever since you released me from the collar.” He shivered. “But at least with their Silver Tongue out of the picture, you won’t have such a plot to untangle. It will most likely resemble an overwhelming army of monsters and assassins tearing into your city.”
I grunted. “Something to look forward to…” he grinned like a shark. “I don’t get why our markings vanished though. Rumps never actually died, so why were we all released from our deals with him?”
“He feeds on chaos. The Riders were able to actually harm him, which meant that he needed to reserve his energy to heal, which meant he had to release the bonds holding you.” I slowly nodded. It could be true, but it only introduced more questions in my mind. And judging by the look on his face, more questions were not welcome at the moment, so I let it go. He continued on after a long pause.
“It gets better. You are only just now seeing what everyone knew several hundred years ago. You have a bit of catching up to do. You might want to start doing some digging. The Armory, and several of your friends would be a good place to start until I return. Wish me luck in training your Grimm, because if they get their hands on her untrained, they will meld her into a monster the likes of which the world has never seen.” He shook his head, eyes locked onto the stones in her arm, skin still red and angry. “Blending three amulets like that,” he shook his head. “Branding them into your very flesh,” he growled at Indie. “Madness,” he muttered in frustration.
“I think we’ve done pretty well for ourselves, so far.”
He let out a derisive laugh, but didn’t respond. He flung out a hand, and one of the bookshelves suddenly swung open to reveal a previously concealed room. I gasped at the heaps of gems, organized by color, lying on the floor and in barrels. I turned wild eyes to Ichabod who merely shrugged.
“Looks impressive, but you will need it. To build your army. Buy favor. Allies. Protection.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got a decent amount of money,” I managed, shaking my head in wonder.
“Pfft. You made a few million off fleecing the immortals. But you lost your billion-dollar company, after I was forced to help Jacob take it from you,” He snarled, eyes furious.
I leaned back in my chair. “I’ve got a few side projects going on. A certain German company I’m almost ready to buy the last controlling shares of,” I replied casually.
Ichabod slowly lifted his gaze to meet mine. “Surely that’s not possible.”
I shrugged. “I’ve got a gift for finance. And they overlooked a few things when the company went under. My estate still held ownership in a significant number of patents, and they’ve been paying me large amounts of money to continue leasing them out…” Ichabod’s eyes were incredulous. “I’m thinking about calling the new company Grimmtech.” I winked at Indie, and she burst out laughing.
Ichabod looked optimistic. “Perhaps there is hope for you yet… Grandson.”
I shivered, but extended a hand in peace. “Let’s stick with Nate and Ich.” Indie began laughing all over again, but Ichabod finally shook my hand in a cool firm grip.
“I have one last detail to attend to, and then we will be off. Hopefully not for long.” I nodded, shooting a glance at Indie. Then, she ducked her head and followed him out the door. The cat, sensing my mood, jumped into my lap and began to purr.
“What about Sir Muffle Paws?”
There was a pause. “Keep him for me. A promise that I’ll return soon,” her voice called out from the hall. Then they were gone.
“Filthy feline,” I muttered, stroking the purring beast. He nudged my face affectionately. It was some time before I realized I was thrusting my chin out at him just as affectionately. “Stupid cat,” I smiled. I sat there for a long time, brooding. Then I decided it was time for me to meet up with Achilles to complete my promise.
Chapter 61
I sat on a wooden bench, bathed in the fiery sunset of the Dueling Grounds. A few dozen people meandered around the edges of the clearing, careful not to leave the safety of the torches. Bets were being placed. I ignored it as I finished the design on Ashley’s wrist. Gunnar leaned over my shoulder eagerly watching. I had duplicated the design of his, but my first idea had been a pawprint.
“And look like every other sorority girl in St. Louis? No thanks,” Ashley had argued. So, now they had matching tattoos. I didn’t tell them that it bound both of them to my family. I figured I deserved to get something out of this. But looking into Gunnar’s eye, I knew he was thinking about it. I had described the runes to him in detail, after all. So, he knew, and would explain it to Ashley later.
As I finished the Rune, I leaned back, releasing her fingers. A look of relief washed over her. “I feel it already! A sense of… peace.”
“So, once a month I don’t have to worry about you turning into a raving psychopath?” Gunnar teased with a grin.
She slowly turned to look up at him. “Let’s hope that once a month I continue turning into a raving psychopath, because if that stops, we likely have an entirely different problem to deal with.”
Gunnar blinked a few times, and then his eye widened as he realized she was referring to having a child. The look of happiness and horror on his face was something to behold. “Right,” he stammered. “I don’t think we’re ready for that yet. Unless…”
Ashley laughed, patting him on the arm. “Easy there, Alpha. Just teasing you. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
My eyes roved the assembled warriors. I spotted the Huntress stalking through the crowd, no doubt looking for her new love, Tory. She wasn’t here. I’d had a long talk with the three immortals after our fight. We had let bygones be bygones, and me somehow relieving them of their debt with Rumpelstiltskin had allowed them to overlook the epic beat down we had shown them. Baba’s Familiar had even survived. I didn’t ask for details.
I saw a hooded figure speaking with Asterion and I blinked. Was that an elephant trunk sticking out of the hood? Ganesh? He was huge. Easily as large as Asterion. I shook my head in disbelief. That would be fun to see.
Then I saw Eae eagerly guiding Pestilence my way. The Horseman had a thoughtful frown on his face, but seemed to be enabling whatever had Eae so excited. I nodded at him as he sat beside me, taking Ashley’s place as her and Gunnar left to mingle. “Thanks for your help,” I told him.
He nodded back. “Sure, but that’s not why I’m here. Eae here tells me I should ask you what’s with the cane. Surely you’re young enough to walk without a cane.”
I kept my face straight, glancing down at it seriously. “I’m just not able to part with it.”
Pestilence stared at me for a moment, and Eae burst out laughing. Then it began to dawn on Pestilence’s face, and a disbelieving smile split his features. “Cane…and able…” he murmured. “Kane and Abel!” I nodded and he burst out laughing.
A heavy hand latched onto my shoulder from behind. “Does that joke amuse you, Maker?”
I shr
ugged off the hand instinctively. “Easy, bub. Just a joke.” I wasn’t very concerned about a fight here. After all, I was the star of the event. I had come up with the idea. And we were at the Dueling Grounds, so I couldn’t die anyway.
I slowly turned to look at the man behind me and saw only a deep cowl. Eae and Pestilence were suddenly silent. “Yeah, poor taste, Nate,” Eae and Pestilence murmured.
I turned to them in disbelief. “But you-”
“I think you and I are going to need to join the roster to resolve this disagreement,” the man behind me growled.
“Who the hell are you anyway? The wraith look from The Lord of the Rings is kind of outdated, in case no one told you. It was just a joke.”
The man drew back his hood to reveal a tan, young face. Ageless, but eyes with knowledge from the beginning of time itself. “I am called Kane.”
Oh.
Well… shit.
I began to stammer an apology when Asterion’s voice called out, booming across all those assembled.
“It is with great honor and appreciation that I welcome all to my humble abode. Now, as many of you have been informed, our very own Master Temple came up with a brilliant idea – in collaboration with King Midas, myself, and Achilles over final details – to establish a… club.” The crowd began to cheer my name, low at first, but growing in volume. Many warriors filled the edges of the ring. Myrmidons, Eae, the Horsemen, a few wolves, and several others I didn’t know or recognize. Asterion held up a hand for silence, and the noise died down. “But as we all know, our existence has kept many of us from… flexing our muscles, so to speak. In the real world,” he smiled hungrily, “but not here.” He explained the unique properties of the Dueling Grounds, that one could not truly die here, and that being out of the pocket of reality, all were free to act without consequence. And of course, the cost of admission going forward. And the schedule for future fights. Likely once a month unless demand encouraged more events.
“To steal a line from a great movie, the first rule about Fight Club…” and the crowd erupted in shouts of eager anticipation and bloodlust, some even shouting out the rest of the movie quote. I shook my head, and felt Kane’s hand pat my back thankfully.
Silver Tongue: A Novel in The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series (The Temple Chronicles Book 4) Page 32