My patience was wearing thin. “Yes or no, Pandora.”
She smiled. “Yes, I helped Calvin and Makayla…after they helped me. Gave me new purpose. Gave me shelter. Protected me from the world of embers and sparks. I had hoped those would fade away one day, but I was wrong. So, so wrong…” she said, sounding frightened for the first time since I’d entered the Armory.
Her words sent chills down my spine, even though I didn’t know what they meant—embers and sparks.
Pandora continued on, and I realized she was smiling at me. “I’m not sure Nate ever caught what I meant when I told him Excalibur was around here somewhere. It’s almost like he forgot I ever said it…Solomon’s Temple, Nate Temple’s Armory,” she explained, winking at me. “Kind of obvious they would be connected, right? It’s amazing no one saw that coming.”
Richard cleared his throat lightly, reminding me why we were really here. He was right. I had promised myself to put all of this on the backburner. I had enough going on already.
Pandora smirked at him over my shoulder, understanding the not so subtle hint, but not taking offense by it. She smiled sweetly at me. “Anyway, I’ll keep this here until you’re ready to deliver it yourself. After you finish murdering Hope.”
Richard made a strange coughing sound behind me. My spine locked rigid as I stared at Pandora, ready to bolt like a frightened rabbit. Taking a gamble, I met her eyes. “I don’t put much stock in fortune cookies.” Her lips curled up in a very amused smile, but she didn’t speak. Since she didn’t kill me on the spot, I pressed on. “I need to see Nate,” I said, hoping she could bring him here for me rather than me risk searching for him myself.
She studied me thoughtfully, her eyes growing distant as if seeing something that wasn’t there. Then they locked back onto me like a bird of prey. “Why do you seek Nate Temple?”
Considering that momentary distant look, I realized she wasn’t asking a simple question. Pandora was playing a game. “I fear for my friend.”
Pandora studied me, waiting for me to continue. When I didn’t, she leaned closer, sniffing at me. “Fear…” she mused. “What a delicious sentiment. But remember, Callie, if we leave our toys on the shelf too long, sometimes they get picked up by others. Or wither away under a blanket of dust and broken dreams of what never was.”
My heart was racing, but I kept my face collected as best I could. “I would never leave Nate on a shelf. Not willingly.”
“What do you call leaving your toy alone on a shelf for a year?” she asked softly.
I lowered my eyes, not sure if she was talking about Nate or…something else entirely.
“I learned the secret of life. The meaning of it all,” I finally said. “It cost me a year.”
Pandora sucked in a sharp intake of breath, suddenly leaning closer, the fabric of her toga catching on the tips of her breasts as if aroused by my comment. She licked her lips, breathing huskily. “That’s a slippery piece of knowledge isn’t it? How long did you grasp it?” she whispered.
I tried not to lean away from her sudden animalistic energy. “An eternity. A heartbeat.” I shrugged helplessly. The fact that she even knew it had been fleeting at all was eerie.
Pandora slowly calmed, closing her eyes for a moment as her breathing returned to normal. “What did it look like?” she finally asked, almost too softly to hear.
I smiled sadly, remembering my time on the roof with Solomon and Last Breath. “A broken man and a vapid little girl, holding hands before the end of the world,” I whispered back, just as faintly.
Pandora clucked her tongue. “Ah. That’s a good one.”
“What did it look like to you?” I asked, curious.
“A box,” she said, her voice strangely flat.
The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up and Richard shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. A box. Pandora’s box. She noticed the look on my face and nodded languidly. “I told you…yours was a good one.”
I forced my shoulders to relax and met her eyes. “I thought I came here for advice, but now I grow concerned for Nate, which is—”
“You came here for love.”
After a moment, I nodded, surprising even myself. “I guess you’re right.”
“Remember, eventually we all end up killing that which we love most.”
“Not this girl,” I said firmly.
She cocked her head at me, looking disappointed. “So, you are no longer here to murder Hope? That’s unfortunate.”
I blinked, my smile faltering slightly. “I’ve already told you I’ve learned to not put too much faith into words. Gods cast riddles like men throw dice—to gamble, to cheat, and to play games with human lives. I’m no gambler.”
Richard murmured approvingly behind me, but Pandora studied me curiously, somewhat taken aback by my comment.
Then she blinked rapidly as if only just seeing me for the first time. “You read the omegabet…” she breathed, sounding stunned. “Oh, dear.”
I winced, not really sure how to respond. “Just a little…”
She studied me pensively. “And they thought I was dangerous,” she finally murmured, eyeing my forehead—the invisible-not-invisible brand. Before I could even open my mouth, she continued. “Wordplay is not inherently wicked, and it is not only used to gamble, cheat, or play games. Sometimes it is the safest—and only—way to share secret knowledge, requiring the student to earn the right to the lesson. To the Seeing.” She seemed to place special emphasis on that last word but continued talking before I could think on it. “Much as a sword can murder or absolve, grant or take power, justify or decapitate. Words are weapons, child. Much sharper than any blade or magic.” She pondered me critically. “Sometimes words mean exactly what they say. Even if you do not yet have the capacity to realize it.”
Sensing her passion, I let a few moments pass before speaking.
“I mean Nate no harm whatsoever. In fact, I would rather the world burn than raise my hand against him.”
Pandora smiled sadly. “Oh, child. You will raise your hand against him. Never promise what you cannot do. I already warned you that mankind always ends up killing what they love most in life.” She gave me a sad, hopeful smile. “You will find Nate at home, but he is lonely.”
“Why is Chateau Falco empty?” I asked nervously.
“Chateau Falco will never be empty, my sweet. Nate is home, with friends, but all alone. He’s stuck in a dream, searching for a nightmare, crying as he laughs.”
My skin threatened to vibrate right off my bones. “What are you talking about, Pandora? I really need to make sure he’s okay,” I demanded, feeling panicked.
Pandora cocked her head quizzically. “I just told you he is not okay. He struggles to find the end of the story. Only you can give that to him.”
I shook my head willfully, finished with her word games. “I need to see him.”
Pandora finally nodded, and then walked up to a nondescript door I hadn’t noticed a few feet away from us. She opened it, studying the contents thoughtfully. Then she closed the door, knocked on it a few times, and then reopened it. Snow flurries flew inwards, blanketing her in fresh flakes. She shivered, brushing them away as she turned to us. “There you go. I’ll leave it open for when you’re ready to leave.” She arched an eyebrow at me, smirking. “If you decide you want to leave,” she giggled, rolling her hips suggestively.
Then she began walking backwards down the hall, watching me. “Remember, blades cut both ways, sweetie. Sometimes what you hear isn’t what you hear. What you think isn’t what you think. Killing is often just a balance. Wordplay, right?”
Then she began singing to herself as she turned away, skipping down the hall.
“Bah, bah, black sheep have you any wool? Yes, sir, yes sir, three bags full. One for the Master…” She trailed off, glancing over her shoulder just enough to let me see the smirk on the profile of her face. Then she was on her way again, continuing her song. “One for the dame, one for the lit
tle boy who lives down the lane…”
She let out one last giggle before skipping around the corner, out of sight.
I stared at the empty hallway, thinking on her song, narrowing my eyes against the flurries of snow drifting into the hallway and settling upon our feet.
The word dame had two definitions. The most popular was an old crone, but another was the female equivalent of a knight…
Richard cleared his throat, drawing my attention from the empty hall. “I don’t think I will ever understand women. Let alone intelligent, powerful women,” he mused, speaking almost as if to himself even though he’d drawn my attention first.
I smirked, shaking my head. “Misogynist.”
His face purpled. “That’s not what I—”
I laughed as I grabbed his arm and tugged him into a world of snow and ice. “Get furry and angry. It’s the only thing you menfolk are good at,” I teased.
In response, he dropped his robe and transformed into his massive white lion form, standing head and shoulders above me. I wondered where he stored his armor, since he wasn’t wearing it this time either. I knew the armor was magic because when I’d knocked off his helmet upon first meeting him, the piece had fallen to the ground and disappeared in a swirl of vapor.
He snarled savagely as he was pelted with three snowballs—right in the snout—as fast as rapid-fire gunshots. I jumped behind him and accidentally stomped on his tail, making him yowl loud enough to cause an avalanche.
That’s when I saw the army of tiny snowmen turn to face us like they shared one hive mind, and whoever had made them had used the charcoal pieces to give them all frowny faces.
“Come on, Hobbes!” I shouted, shoving him ahead of me. “Get furry and angry! It’s the attack of the deranged mutant killer monster snow goons, and they look pissed!”
Even missing the Calvin and Hobbes reference, Last Breath obliged.
I loved my homicidal psycho temple cat.
Chapter 41
I realized—seeing Nate battling dozens of deranged killer monster snow goons—that no matter what anyone said, I would never be able to kill this man. Not that I could not, but that I would not. The world could burn if that was the requirement to save it. And it had nothing to do with romance. Simply put, I loved this man. On every level I could contemplate. As a friend, as an ally, as a peer, and hopefully, one day, as a lover. Beneath his snarky arrogance, he was a gentle and kind soul, always willing to go the extra mile to care for—
He impaled an airborne snowman with a gnarled staff as tall as he was, spinning to swing it like a baseball bat to decapitate a trio of snowmen behind him. He was laughing as wind and snow whipped up his hair, and his cheeks were covered in stubble and flecks of blue blood from the snowmen he’d just murdered. Wild at heart.
A gentle and kind soul, I reminded myself.
He wore faded jeans with no shirt or shoes, but the cold didn’t seem to touch him. Grimm—his homicidal unicorn—galloped around the perimeter of the camp, spearing snowmen left and right, laughing like a lunatic as he hurled startlingly disrespectful curses and taunts back at the dead and dying left in his wake.
Last Breath shot me a very stark look before sighing in resignation and leaping into the fray. I did the same, flinging balls of fire back and forth, scorching lines of snow goons into white and blue Slurpee juice until the camp looked like a convenience store invaded by a gang of teens at the height of summer. Something about the fight was just so undignified that I found I was grinning like an idiot, too. I almost felt like dancing as I slaughtered the harmless little guys.
Until one flung his nose at me and it detonated about a millisecond after I flung up my shield—orange grit exploding like shrapnel across the surface. After that, I took them a bit more seriously. They consisted of three spheres—one each for the head, the body, and the base—and they scooted across the snow like they were fans of Johnny 5 from Short Circuit.
Many of them had missing noses, which explained the carrot-colored craters here and there in the snow. An alarming number of stick arms and lumps of coal littered the slush as well, indicating many more snow goons had been here before we arrived.
Nate had glanced up sharply at my first fireball—eyes briefly widening to see me and a giant white lion opting in to help him clean up the mess—before he went right on back to killing snow goons, no longer laughing as openly as he had a few moments ago. Soon enough, only a few snow goons remained, and I even saw some trying to drag themselves away from the carnage—their bodies consisting of only two sections, the head and chest—leaking blue blooded smears behind them like amputated soldiers in a war movie.
Grimm took the time to calmly trot towards each of them, and then stomped his hooves through their heads without even bothering to look down. With a final snort, the unicorn turned to stare at us, lowering his horn in silent warning. I let out a breath, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of the fight, and waved at Grimm.
He continued staring at me, only moving his head to keep Last Breath in his line of sight as well. Now that the brief fight had ended, and I was no longer tossing fireballs, I realized how cold it was here. We stood on what seemed to be a small plateau beneath the peak of a very tall mountain, higher than even a blanket of clouds that hovered about fifty feet below the edge of our plateau. I had no idea where we were in Fae, exactly, but I could sense a vibrancy to the air that confirmed we definitely weren’t in Missouri anymore.
Nate yanked his staff out from the ground, shaking blue slush from the end before he turned to stare at us as well. His face was blank, assessing us warily.
“You said you were friends, right?” Last Breath asked from the side of his mouth.
For the first time, I realized music was actually playing from a Bluetooth speaker perched atop a boulder. Katy Perry of all choices, and Grimm seemed to be unaware he was subtly bobbing his head to the beat. No wonder I’d felt like dancing during the brief fight.
I had never pictured Nate—or Grimm—as a Katy Perry fan.
“Hey, Nate,” I said, breaking the awkward silence.
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Hey.”
My smile faltered slightly, and I wondered if I might just look like a demon to earn such a hollow greeting. Because it always helped to think of things like that after the fact. Keeps your reflexes sharp.
The shirtless, barefoot man before me—still showing zero discomfort at the frigid chill—was more Wylde than Nate, more Fae than human, more savage than civilized, but I refused to think of him as anything other than Nate. Even so, I needed to tread very carefully here. To not appear threatening in any way whatsoever. Last Breath already seemed to have come to this understanding and had dipped his head politely at both Grimm and Nate before lowering his eyes—like one would do when confronting a wild or hyper-dominant animal.
I’d seen Nate in dark moments before, but never one this severe. He was one heartbeat away from destroying the world, and I wasn’t sure he would feel any remorse in the action if he chose to cross that line. Why had his friends left him alone here like this? Couldn’t they see what the Land of the Fae was doing to him?
Calm. I needed to keep him calm—
Grimm snorted, scraping one hoof at the snow in front of him in a not so discreet warning as he glared at Last Breath. “Who’s the pussy—”
Nate flung up a hand, instantly cutting Grimm short, and the two turned to look behind them. My mouth fell open as a small, blonde-haired little girl hopped out from an igloo I hadn’t noticed tucked against the wall of the mountain—the door tall enough for her to simply walk through. She wore a cute little blue dress with white polka dots, long white stockings, and shining yellow flats that definitely weren’t suitable for the top of a mountain.
Then again, she had no coat either, and this was Fae, so I kept my mouth shut. She silently turned off the music and swept her gaze over the field of snow goons—now just blue slush, hunks of coal, orange grit, and amputated stick arms—with
piercing blue eyes.
The little girl threw her hands up. “Great. Now we’re going to have Bumblenuts circling the mountain in an hour—” Her eyes locked onto me and she blinked. Then they latched onto Last Breath and they rapidly switched to ecstatic glee. “Kitty!” she shrieked before sprinting towards my lion. Last Breath’s eyes widened, and I grinned.
As if her arrival had been a white flag, the tension in the air lessened and Nate motioned for me to join him at a firepit circled by stumps, boulders, and a heavy log. I sighed in relief, making my way over to him.
The blonde little girl looked so cute and bubbly with her polka-dotted dress and deep blue eyes that I found myself grinning absently at her. She looked vaguely familiar for some reason that I couldn’t quite pinpoint, as if she reminded me of someone.
Last Breath handled her exuberant affection well, allowing her to pet and tug on his mane. He even suffered her relentless chattering with an amused look on his face. “My werewolf friend, Gunnar, is bigger than you. Have you ever considered putting ribbons in your mane? Because I’m probably definitely going to put ribbons in your mane.” I smiled to myself as she peppered him with more questions in a constant stream, barely pausing to take a breath.
I joined Nate beside the firepit, and blinked upon realizing the flames were bright blue, almost the same color as the snow goon blood. The coals looked like glowing chips of arctic ice. I even felt gusts of cold air occasionally flaring out between the usual waves of heat—like the fire couldn’t quite decide whether it wanted to be an air conditioning unit or a heater when it grew up.
We sat silently, staring into the blue flames. Not trusting myself to say the right thing in his current mental state, I decided to wait him out. He finally let out a breath, poking the fire with his staff. The tip didn’t seem to be flammable for some reason. In fact, it didn’t really look like wood, now that I was closer to it—more like metal or stone.
“Lightning bolt,” he said, noticing my glance—even though his eyes hadn’t been focused on me. He’d caught me eyeing his staff from his peripheral vision.
Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2 Page 78