Carnage: Nate Temple Series Book 14

by Shayne Silvers

  “I would appreciate it.”

  “I’ll take sentry duty,” Fenrir growled, loud enough for everyone to hear as he straightened to his full height. He turned, departing the hut in pensive silence, his paws crushing stones beneath his bulk much like my boot might snap a dried twig. Yahn and Carl had knelt down before my satchel, poring over the contents, not seeming aware of my conversation with Fenrir.

  But Loki was burning holes in my back with his eyes.

  I called out to Fenrir. “Someone told me that knowing and accepting my heart’s greatest desire was the key to removing these,” I said, tapping my Titan Thorns. “Unconditional love.”

  He paused but didn’t look back. “Good luck with that,” he grumbled.

  Then he was walking away again. I wasn’t sure if he was pulling an Eeyore and admitting that such a solution would never work for him, or if he was mocking the obvious fact that I was a lifelong bachelor. Either way, he was an asshole.

  “Great talk,” I muttered. I turned and made my way towards the hut, ignoring Loki’s eyes.

  It was time to tinker with a little astral projection and spy on my Horsemen. The longer I waited, the better chance Zeus would find leverage against them first, or use my face to deceive them into following his plans, banking on their trust.

  “May the better man blackmail first,” I growled, shouldering the door to the hut open.

  27

  I found a clear space on the floor of the hut—not trusting myself to use the bed and possibly fall asleep—and sat down with a tired sigh.

  I wanted current information on my Horsemen—Gunnar, Callie, and Alucard—direct from the source. Interrogating Yahn on their current activities was all well and good, but he wasn’t high enough on the food chain to know what they might really be doing. You wouldn’t ask a soldier what his general’s secret battle plan was, because whatever the grunt had been told probably wasn’t entirely accurate. It might even be intentional misinformation.

  With astral projection, I could look right over their shoulders. Big Brother was watching. Death’s warning at Yggdrasil didn’t deter me, because I was made of sterner stuff—blinding idiocy, a splash of arrogance, and a double dollop of testicular fortitude.

  I couldn’t confront them in person; I would be signing their death sentences if Zeus found out. Accidentally abducting Yahn was risky enough. My only hope was that he truly was low enough on the food chain that Zeus did not notice his disappearance—or saw no danger in it.

  I took a deep breath and split my mind from my body with a mental scalpel.

  My soul tore away from my body like an old scab, and I suddenly felt free for the first time in days. I stared down at my—Peter’s—body for a moment, feeling the same uncomfortable twinge as when I had caught my reflection or when Zeus had turned into my doppelgänger.

  I zipped out of the hut—straight through the walls—and let out a mad cackle. I spotted Fenrir and Loki sitting on a rock, scanning the horizon in companionable silence. I smiled. It was cute to see them out of the public eye. I sensed a stronger bond between them. They were healing from their centuries-long separation. I’d done a good thing freeing Fenrir.

  Unless he and Odin succeeded in killing each other, of course. That would suck.

  I wasn’t entirely sure how I did it, but I was suddenly hovering over the pavilion where I had met Zeus and his broken offspring yesterday. I wanted to see the aftermath of my mad escape. A rickety card table had been set atop the Temple Crest with two folding chairs on either side. A board game sat between two men.

  Zeus and Hermes.

  They were playing a familiar game that resembled Go. I’d last played it against Asterion when I had dueled him for the book on the Obsidian Son, Sons of the Dying Sun, to defeat the dragon invasion of St. Louis by Alaric Slate. I narrowed my eyes at that suspiciously. And we now looked like Alaric Slate and Peter. Coincidence? Not in my world.

  One stark difference from yesterday were the puddles of golden ichor coating the marble floor, splashing over, and seeping into the outlines of, the Temple Crest. I shuddered. Gods had been brutally tortured atop my crest. Probably some combination of Ares, Apollo, and Aphrodite—if she’d been caught. It wasn’t enough ichor to be a murder—I didn’t think—but it was enough to make Hermes noticeably uncomfortable. His movements were stiff and uncertain, and his forehead was knuckled with concern.

  Zeus appeared amused. He also wasn’t wearing my face, which was a relief.

  He’d left the puddles of ichor—still fresh—on purpose. Just like he’d chosen that specific spot to set up their little board game. Obviously, Zeus was also playing mentally abusive games with his son, like any stand-up father figure would. Because it built character, or something.

  Had Zeus picked up on my bet with Hermes? The clouds below the mountain were a murky gray, but there was another ceiling of them above the two gods—unnaturally black and brimming with fingers of crimson lightning. I took a risk and drifted closer. Hiding up in the clouds would conceal me, but I wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation. I got within ten feet of them, hovering just above the pavilion’s floor like a spirit. I was in full view of Zeus but he didn’t react in the slightest.

  Shiva had been an expert at astral projection, and I’d feared that maybe all gods were.

  I felt myself smiling. Zeus was so obsessed with himself that he likely had no understanding of what it meant to truly step out of his body and ride the astral plane. It required a slice of humility to accept that your existence wasn’t the center of the universe. I must have skated by on a technicality, since I had no problems doing it.

  His arrogance was actually a benefit to me right now. Even though he didn’t currently look like me, I was very aware of our similar character traits. Zeus was what I could become if I didn’t embrace humility and empathy. Food for thought. Unfortunately, the only way to beat him was to play his game—and become more like him in the short run.

  Just in case he had a great poker face and was fully aware of my presence, I prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. Hopefully, faster than he could hurl lightning—astral or real. I floated laterally so as to keep both faces in view.

  Hermes rolled the dice, his face a mask of forced calm. He moved his pieces and then waited for Zeus. I noticed his hand trembling ever so slightly.

  The god of lightning studied the board with a grimace. The bulk of the game was scheming, setting traps, and sabotage. A player could suffer great losses all the way through to the end, and it wouldn’t mean he was losing. There was no winner or loser until that last toss of the dice.

  I narrowed my eyes, sensing the correlation between their game and current events. The fun was in the set up, but the victory was in the last move.

  Zeus grinned at Hermes, folding his beefy arms. “Did you do as I told you?”

  Hermes nodded reassuringly. “Yes, Father. Temple’s disguise is in place, and it’s completely undetectable.” Hermes studied his father with an approving look. “Now that he’s escaped, that disguise will be even more valuable than you originally intended. Unless you knew he would escape…”

  Zeus just smiled at him. I couldn’t tell if he had known or was simply fucking with Hermes. I felt my hackles rising, though. Hermes had disguised us. So much for suspecting Aphrodite.

  Hermes focused on the board, pursing his lips. “He tried to rob me, making it much simpler.”

  Zeus frowned. “Rob you? Why?”

  Hermes tapped the coin pouch hanging from his belt. “Desperation, perhaps?”

  Zeus chuckled. “I hope you let him succeed. He’ll need a way to return, now that he’s escaped,” he added, his humor evaporating alarmingly fast.

  I felt myself leaning forward, even though I could have plopped myself right down on the center of their board game, confident that they couldn’t see me. This was the moment of truth. Hermes had betrayed me—but only at Zeus’ express command. Now he had a free pass to come clean about our bet.

&
nbsp; “No,” Hermes said, wincing apologetically. I frowned in confusion. Why hadn’t he come clean? He could have played both of us by admitting he’d handed me the four coins, possibly garnering favor from his dad. If nothing else, it would have covered his ass if I failed to win.

  “But I used his attempt as an excuse to get close enough to lock his disguise to the Titan Thorns. He won’t break it without your permission. He is no longer a concern, even if free.”

  Zeus grunted dismissively. “I was never concerned about Temple. But I am concerned about his Horsemen. You met with them, correct?” Zeus asked, leaning forward. Hermes nodded. “Did they believe your story?” he pressed, smirking in amusement.

  I stiffened, holding my breath.

  “They had a lot of questions, but they ultimately bought it. Especially now that I have released the wild card.”

  What the hell was the wild card? It didn’t help that my mind instantly jumped to the famous quote, Release the Kraken!

  Zeus grinned. “It’s all falling into place, and even better than I’d planned. I still have a few things to take care of, but they will be concluded before tomorrow night.”

  Hermes nodded shakily. “What about Aphrodite?” he asked, his eyes darting to the pools of ichor near his sandals. “Was she working with Ares and Apollo?”

  Zeus suddenly gripped him by the throat, hoisting him up into the air. “Know that you will beg for Prometheus’ fate if you attempt to betray me.” Hermes gagged, struggling to breathe but not using his winged feet to help relieve the pressure of Zeus’ grip. I could tell he was nodding subserviently, but Zeus continued to choke him for a few more moments.

  Zeus grunted, and tossed him aside, brushing his hands together disgustedly. Hermes struck the ground face first—right into a wet puddle of ichor. Hermes struggled back to his feet, his face smeared with his brothers’ golden ichor, making it look like he was wearing tribal war paint. He wiped at his cheeks hurriedly, looking nauseated.

  Zeus returned to his chair and calmly sat down as if nothing had happened. “Ares and Apollo are smart enough not to betray me, but they failed at the simple task I gave them—to punish and guard Nate Temple. Any imbecile could have done this. I had to punish their incompetence. We will all be worshipped again soon, as befitting our station. Our old personas—and failures—must be eradicated. I love you all too much to let you become anything less than your best.”

  Wow. That…I didn’t even know what to make of this level of dysfunction.

  Hermes sat back down. “I love you too, Father,” he said in a croak. “What of Aphrodite?”

  Zeus growled furiously. “Aphrodite has yet to be reprimanded for her part in his escape, but I guarantee she will beg for Ares and Apollo’s punishment in comparison. For now, let her hide like the panicked rabbit she is. I hold her husband in chains, so I still have leverage—even if she denies her affections. I’ve heard them whispering to each other when they think no one is watching.” He fixed Hermes with a stern, warning glare. “And I am always watching, my son.”

  Hermes nodded reassuringly. “Aphrodite can’t remain long from Ares’ bed either,” he said. “She will be here tomorrow night, one way or another.”

  Zeus nodded. “Too much rides on this for her to do anything else. Same with the others.” He waited, eyeing his son up and down. Hermes squirmed uncomfortably, nodding. “It is your turn,” Zeus finally said in a cold tone. “And you know what will happen if you forfeit…” he added with a malevolent grin, chuckling.

  Hermes nodded shakily. He scooped up the dice and tossed them on the table. Like a beaten child sitting at the dinner table with his abusive father, he said nothing—but I could imagine his thoughts. The storm has passed. He really does love me. He just gets angry sometimes when I let him down. I’ll do better next time.

  I clenched my fists furiously as they continued to play their game.

  Hermes had betrayed me, but he’d also lied to Zeus—when it would have benefited him to tell the truth about the coins. Which horse was he ultimately backing, though—Zeus or me? Aphrodite was on Zeus’ shit list, so whatever games she might be playing were her own. I wasn’t sure if that made her completely trustworthy, but it made her more trustworthy. Enough to entertain her plan to break me out of these damned Titan Thorns. I had no other options, so she was the only game in town anyway.

  My lack of trust wasn’t even related to my own paranoia. After seeing how utterly broken this family was—the children, especially—I had to keep my eyes open. Kids this broken were unpredictable, but the statistics always pointed a similar direction.

  Ultimately, they would fall back on their family when bullets started flying. Stockholm syndrome had started on Olympus.

  I’d learned a few things. It sounded like Zeus still hadn’t found his weapon or killed his god.

  And he needed me back here tomorrow night.

  I would oblige.

  28

  Rather than immediately zipping to my next destination, I decided I needed to take a moment to calm myself down. I was strangely empathetic to the Olympian children—not enough to forgive them their crimes, but enough to understand what drove them.

  How I’d used that against Ares and Apollo. I didn’t feel guilty, but I couldn’t deny a small heap of responsibility for my actions. I had to accept that if I wanted to come out of this as my own man, rather than a mirror image of Zeus.

  Not that I was even remotely as cruel. But…Zeus hadn’t been this cruel at first, either. Each step had taken him closer to the god I’d just seen, and each step had likely seemed rational and obvious.

  Also, Zeus had been born into a world where his father would rather eat him and his siblings than risk them rising above him. That…had to fuck with a kid’s head. Then to castrate and kill him with a scythe, going to war with his siblings against his aunts and uncles.

  Yeah. I decided that the world didn’t need to worship a family like that.

  So, I needed to get my head in the game and start rolling my dice. Tomorrow night was the big event. Zeus was setting up his pieces, so I needed to do the same.

  I considered my intended moves, adapting them to the new knowledge I’d acquired. Nothing major had changed. I need to take my Horsemen off the board, and that would require stealth here on the astral plane. Quinn had been able to see me and interact with me, even if Zeus and Hermes had not. To be sneaky, I had to be relaxed and unemotional. Thoughtful rather than reactive. Because my next decisions were going to look a lot like Zeus, and that was going to hurt me just as much as it hurt them—in the short run.

  And in the long run, I could not be like Zeus. Could never be like Zeus.

  I calmed my mind, taking slow, deep breaths. Breathing wasn’t necessary, but it was something to focus on. I often used my crest to prepare for meditation, but right now, all I could see was my crest painted with godly ichor while Zeus mentally choked out his son.

  After a few moments, I floated in a sea of darkness. Well, mostly. I ignored the familiar crimson cracks all around me. It almost felt like I was under a glass dome and that the red lines were attempting to shatter the protection. Or like a massive root system was fighting to break through an obstacle. Creeper vines, maybe.

  Sharp, cracking echoes reverberated all around me, unseen, like calving glaciers, but I ignored them. Because through it all, I suddenly heard a raven cry.

  I abandoned my plan to spy on the Horsemen, and sped towards the new sound without hesitation, reminded of hearing something similar when I’d been speaking with Quinn. The sound left a trail of energy in the darkness. Vaguely purple and as ephemeral as dissipating smoke.

  I heard another raven reply—a slightly deeper caw than the first—followed by another jet of purple energy like a contrail behind a distant airplane. I knew I had been right.

  The bird brains—Hugin and Munin—were here on the astral plane. Were they trying to get my attention or had I overheard them? Were they searching for Loki and Fenrir? If so, I n
eeded to warn them. They wouldn’t know that their location was compromised.

  I latched onto the sound—the very tip of the ribbon of purple light—and I was abruptly yanked forward like in an unfair game of tug of war. I shattered through an unseen barrier and onto the ground. Unfortunately, my body could still experience high impact landings. I skidded on my cheek and then flipped head over heels.

  I came to a stop, lying on my back, staring up at a morning sky, panting heavily. My head rang and stars twinkled in and out of my peripheral vision. My cheek felt raw and I sported several new bruises—to my soul.

  Which were not as fun as bruises to my flesh. I could sense the point of origin for a physical bruise, but soul injuries apparently rippled outward like a pebble thrown into a pond, sharing that pain in concentric, echoing rings throughout my body.

  So, my entire soul felt fucking fantastic.

  My self-pity died as I heard faint laughter nearby. Familiar laughter. I sat up, wondering where the hell I was—where Hugin and Munin had taken me. I didn’t see the bastards anywhere, and I could no longer see the contrail of power that had flushed my soul down this astral drain. But they had to be somewhere nearby or I wouldn’t be here.

  I froze to find Callie Penrose a dozen paces away. Her long white hair looked like spun silk, and her purple-flecked blue eyes seemed to suck in the sunlight around her. She wore canvas pants and a matching coat—both hugging her body tightly in a way that made me think it was more functional than fashionable. Like martial arts attire used for training. It was scuffed and dirty in places, verifying my analysis.

  She was sitting on a stump beside a familiar, buff Asian man who wore black military BDU’s. Straps and buckles and cargo pockets decorated his ensemble—most likely brimming with weapons.

  His name was Ryuu, and I’d met him before. Recently. He’d done something stupid and I’d been forced to put him back in his lane. He’d held a sword to my back. He’d won the lottery by not getting himself killed.