Carnage: Nate Temple Series Book 14

by Shayne Silvers

  “She’s around,” I said in a mischievous tone, letting them worry that she might be around the corner—a lot closer than they would like.

  Death nodded. “Thank you for arresting him,” he said, indicating Zeus.

  Hades shot a look at Hermes and then nodded affirmatively. “He has indeed lost himself to the Carnage. I had to see it for myself to believe it.”

  Hera rolled her eyes and snorted.

  Poseidon thumped the butt of his trident onto the marble floor and dipped his chin. “Thank you for bringing him to justice, Master Temple.”

  Odin and Freya were noticeably silent, assessing the situation. Zeus was now sobbing, and I realized he had managed to climb to his knees to kneel before me.

  I considered the situation very carefully. I had already done so several times in my most hopeful dreams and thoughts, asking myself what the conclusion to this scenario should entail.

  “Lords and Ladies of Olympus, I accept your kind invitation as a guest.” They grimaced but nodded. “We have not been formally introduced. I am Nate Temple, the Horseman of Hope,” I said confidently. Again, they nodded, obviously well aware. “This man threatened to use one small child to get to another small child. That is unforgivable.”

  “We agree, Master Temple,” Poseidon said, choosing to use my formal title again.

  Hades nodded. “We will lock him away—in Tartarus, if we must. Let him spend eternity with the Titans.”

  I lifted Cronus’ Scythe and they all flinched. I studied it in silence, nodding absently. “Time,” I mused thoughtfully. “The problem with your suggestion, Lord Hades, is that it lets a morally bankrupt man believe he has anything left to spend. Time is the most valuable commodity, as you well know. To let this man have the dignity of spending time anywhere is a crime. And…” I turned to appraise the broken, bleeding god before me. “A Horseman needs to make an example. Not just for you, but for the world. For the other pantheons,” I said, shifting my attention to Odin and Freya. “They need to know that karma has a name. They need to know that Zeus should have never opened Pandora’s Box. And he never should have let Hope escape, for I was his undoing.”

  Death held up a calming hand, knowing me well enough to pump the brakes early. “You are correct, of course, Nate. But think about this. He has allies. Putting another target on your back by executing him will not help your cause.”

  I cocked my head, glancing back at him. “Execution?” I asked slowly, tasting the word and finding it lacking. I shook my head. “No, not that.” They visibly relaxed. “This is an exhibition.”

  And I swung the scythe, decapitating the god of lightning as easily as if he were a reed in a field at harvest. His head bounced, coming to a rest at my feet. His eyes blinked. I watched until the electricity finally winked out of the old boy. Hera had set down her drink and was slow clapping with a cigarette hanging from her lips. I had no idea when the lush had lit up, but smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, sister.

  “Now he is unplugged,” I said, which was funny. Kára’s disembodied laugh backed me up, startling the fuck out of everyone present. Hera coughed out a cloud of smoke, cackling. Poseidon and Hades shot her disapproving frowns, but Hermes was biting his knuckles to stifle his own laughter. Probably at my joke, not Hera’s hacking.

  I calmly withdrew Gungnir from my fanny pack of devastation. Odin gasped, taking a step back as his eyes reflexively shot towards Fenrir. The wolf growled hungrily, warningly. Zeus’ soul zapped into the yellow Devourer on the tip of Gungnir with an audible gulping sound.

  I slowly turned to the gods, holding Gungnir in one hand and Cronus’ Scythe in the other.

  Odin eyed Gungnir anxiously and I met his eyes without any indication of my intent.

  Hades looked displeased that I had stolen his brother’s soul.

  It had been risky to reveal Gungnir, but I had needed to take Zeus’ soul before Hades had an opportunity to gain any measure of power over the situation. I had needed to keep everyone on their toes—especially Odin.

  Hera was puffing contentedly on her cigarette, and had picked up her drink again. She lifted it in cheers to me, shooting a smug look at Zeus’ head.

  My decision to utilize Gungnir’s Devourer, yet not hand it over to him, served to let the Olympians know that I was also not beholden to Odin—and that I would not give him any measure of power over their own pantheon. Or the hulking threat to Odin’s life looming just outside the Acropolis, who was still growling audibly.

  The Olympians nodded satisfactorily.

  Odin, on the other hand, had the benefit of having witnessed me killing the Father of the Olympians and hefting a scythe that could make short work out of any of them. It would even make short work of the Titans. And I wasn’t handing that over either.

  I held blades to both throats, proving my impartiality.

  Death nodded with silent pride. He and I had a long talk coming, but I didn’t have time right now. He might not be so happy, then.

  I scooped up Zeus’ head with a tendril of magic—because ick, and my hands were full. I spotted Grimm chatting with Fenrir and Loki out front near a grove of trees. Loki took a drink from a flask, eyeing the contents with a pleased grin. I saw a young woman’s silhouette slipping through the grove of trees and Loki lifting the flask to her with a mischievous grin.

  Had Loki already found a way to score some local hooch? Judging by how much better he looked than he had earlier tonight when I’d arranged for him to dump Ares and Apollo on the mountain, I was betting he was sipping Ambrosia.

  The god of mischief was a Rockstar. Hermes met my eyes and winked conspiratorially.

  I grunted. Make that two gods of mischief.

  “I assume there is a mutually unfavorable truce?” I asked Odin, jerking my chin towards Fenrir. He nodded. “Good. Let’s all step outside,” I said. “There are…things to discuss.”

  The gaggle of gods—both pantheons—shared significant looks with each other before following my suggestion, herded forward by Death. I took my Mask off and rolled my shoulders. With a thought, the coin was back around my neck, and I was in a posh suit, courtesy of Aphrodite.

  “Rawrr,” Kára purred in my ear, swatting me on the ass as I took my first step.

  Freya glanced back at the sound of the slap, frowning. I grinned sheepishly and smiled.

  She followed the others outside. “Be ready,” I told Kára.

  “For?” She whispered.

  Watching the array of gods, I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. “I’m a Horseman, not a therapist.”

  She chuckled darkly. “Noted.”

  I slipped the two big ass polearms into my fanny pack of—

  Damn.

  It was gone since I had switched back to normal clothes. It had kind of been growing on me. With a sigh, I slipped the weapons into my satchel, freeing up my hands for things to come.

  67

  I leaned against a pillar, spending a few moments locking eyes with each god. I’d already announced a new truce for the duration of our meeting, just to be sure Fenrir followed the rules. Still, he licked his lips hungrily, eyeing Odin like a slab of raw beef.

  Odin set his jaw, refusing to look at his nemesis. Loki watched in wry amusement, still tipping his flask back and looking healthier by the minute. He lifted it to Hermes. “Thanks, cousin. Just what I needed after Niflheim.”

  Hermes smirked back. “No problem. I’m thinking we all need to learn to work together these days. Family being what it is, and all.”

  Loki snorted. “Dude. My dad and son want to kill each other,” he agreed, grinning.

  Hermes eyed the severed head at my feet and pursed his lips. He didn’t look upset, but he did look…thoughtful. He finally lifted his eyes to mine. “We are without a god of war, and we will need someone to guide us when the time comes.”

  “The Omega War,” I said, grimacing. “Ares might not be dead. Yet. But let’s proceed as if he is. I would bet my everything on that horse crossing the finish line fir
st.”

  The Olympians nodded and, judging by the looks in their eyes, I had no doubts that they would take care of the Ares job for me if I asked.

  “We would agree to fight behind you,” Hermes pressed.

  I grunted. “And how would that work?”

  “We could each swear on caduceus,” he suggested. “It symbolizes negotiation.”

  I didn’t answer him immediately. Instead, I turned to Loki. “Mind giving me a drink? I feel a slight headache coming on.”

  Loki closed the flask and tossed it to me. I caught it and unstoppered it. I took a quick drink and let out a contented sigh. Then I held it out to my side. “And one for my homey,” I said, tipping it.

  Before a drop of Ambrosia spilled, the flask simply disappeared.

  The gods stiffened abruptly, falling silent. Kára took a loud drink, making sure everyone knew she was there. I felt the flask hit my hand and accepted it. The gods gasped to see it reappear in my hand again, and I sensed Kára silently shifting to my other side before she became a target. Hades glared, knowing exactly what was happening, but that hadn’t been my point. Death had outed me about the scythe, so Hades already knew I had his Helm.

  Tensions rose as everyone suddenly wondered who the hell my invisible friend was. I knew who they thought it was, which was my intention—Pandora.

  Instead of addressing the little drama I’d created, I eyed the grove of trees. “What are those?”

  “Olive trees,” Hermes said, smirking at the tension I’d caused.

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  I lifted my hand and one of the trees screamed as I ripped it to shreds, imploding it in on itself, tearing up the earth in the process. The gods cursed and huddled into two camps—Asgardian and Olympian. I ignored them, knowing Kára would keep an eye on them as I worked.

  I compacted the tree, twisting it in on itself further until it became the size of a staff. I tapped into my Fae magic, weaving the power into my creation in order to remove the weight of the tree so that the staff was light enough to carry.

  Finished, I snapped my fingers. The newly formed staff zipped into my outstretched hand. The pale wood hummed in my grip, but it wasn’t complete like I had hoped. I looked up at the gathered faces and nodded.

  I reached down and dipped my fingers in the pool of ichor from Zeus’ severed head and wiped it on my new staff. The ichor absorbed into the wood like water to a sponge, creating golden veins in the wood that resembled arcs of electricity.

  “Give me some of your essence,” I commanded. “Something that symbolizes you, specifically. Doesn’t have to be blood. Just something to signify your agreement.”

  “Our agreement to what, exactly?” Hermes asked, obviously the spokesman.

  “An Olive branch,” I said. “A symbol of peace, not negotiation. Because you all need to really understand something,” I said, leaning forward, “this is not a negotiation. This is an ultimatum.”

  They nodded soberly.

  “Did you need to destroy the whole tree?” Hera asked, frowning at the torn earth.

  “Yes. There can be no peace without war and destruction.”

  It might say something that they didn’t bother arguing with me. Even Fenrir and Loki joined in. Fenrir licked it. Loki shrugged and pricked his finger, dabbing the blood on the surface. It instantly soaked into the wood, forming a strange symbol. I handed him back his flask and he took a sip, marveling as the wound on his hand closed. Odin and Freya approached at the same time, sliced each other’s palms with daggers, and then gripped the wood. Runes burned into the wood as if they’d branded the staff with a hot iron.

  The Olympians followed suit, their offerings sinking into the wood and either leaving behind a symbol or an aesthetic addition. Black water from River Styx from Hades turned the entire staff black. Water from the darkest depths of the ocean from Poseidon left behind a trident symbol. Hera…well, she poured some of her Daiquiri on it. Since it left behind a hazy symbol, I shrugged in acceptance. Hermes spit on it and the staff felt even lighter than before. I glanced down to see a pair of wings etched into the base.

  Grimm hit it with a tiny black painbow that scared the shit out of everyone since he hadn’t warned us. Fenrir burst out laughing.

  Death approached but I pulled the staff away with a polite shake of my head. “This is between my Dread Four and the gods, not you and yours.” He studied me thoughtfully, no doubt wondering if it had been a slight—a storm on the horizon between us. It wasn’t, but it didn’t hurt to keep him on his toes. For now. I wasn’t upset with him, but I was kind of upset with him. In my youth, I would have been furious with him for deceiving me.

  But with the wisdom of a century of chaos packed into less than a decade, I was merely perturbed. So, my silence was a figurative get off my lawn. I reached into my satchel and lifted Gungnir back out. Fenrir’s ears perked up nervously and Odin grew still, looking like he’d heard the first broken bottle in a seedy bar and sensed that fists were about to fly freely.

  With my magic, I plucked the Devourer—the gem now crackling blue and gold with the addition of Zeus’ soul—out of the blade and held it above the tip of my new olive branch staff. The black wood stretched and grew, encasing the Devourer in a protective hold and firmly embedding it in the wood.

  I nodded satisfactorily and then flung the staff into the air near my side. Kára—still invisible—caught it, and the staff disappeared. Odin gaped in disbelief, sputtering incoherently. Freya gripped his arm forcefully and shook her head. He visibly calmed, but his eye was murderous.

  “Thanks,” I murmured, hefting Gungnir and turning to Odin and Fenrir. The spear was still ridiculously powerful—perhaps even strong enough to kill Fenrir—but it no longer held his beloved Devourer. It was nothing personal, I’d just needed one, and I’d needed something symbolic from Odin for what I intended next. Something to show Fenrir his devotion.

  “Your feud ends now. At least until this Omega War is over. And that means a promise from both of you. None of this as long as he doesn’t try to kill me garbage. In fact, you two are now allies, and I demand that you work to help each other. The same way Odin would fight to save his wife and Fenrir to save Loki. You’re family. Start acting like it or you’ll end up like Zeus.” The Olympians studied me thoughtfully. “If one of you dies suspiciously, I kill the other. Period,” I said. “I’ll save the investigation for after the funeral pyre.”

  Fenrir studied me somberly. Finally, he spoke. “I will not kill Odin. I will fight by his side as a respected brother through the Omega War.” Odin slowly turned to look at him, looking taken aback. Freya was biting her lip hopefully. “And beyond, if he can abide it.” He glanced up at me. “That last part was because you have impressed me, Catalyst. Keep doing that.”

  Loki grunted, lifting his flask. “Damn.”

  Odin nodded, eyeing Fenrir with a faint smile. “I will not kill Fenrir. I will fight by his side as a respected brother through the Omega War. And beyond, if he can abide it,” he added with a smile.

  Then, the two dipped their heads at each other, and the tension swamping the grove dissipated. Almost as if by magic.

  I handed Gungnir to Odin. “Thank you, Dean,” I said, emphasizing the name he’d carried for most of my life—as my butler. He smiled warmly, appreciating it. “I’ll find you a new Devourer. This was a…necessary gesture,” I said, my eyes flicking towards Fenrir meaningfully. Both of them nodded, understanding my meaning. Remembering Alice’s strange advice—and Freya’s warning to Kára about quitting her Valkyrie job, I added one more bit. “I submit to the judgment of Asgardian Court,” I said, taking a shot in the dark.

  Freya’s jaw dropped and Odin grunted. “How did you—”

  “What is this?” Hermes snapped, suddenly anxious.

  I held out a hand. “It has nothing to do with this,” I said. “It is a personal matter. Right?”

  Fenrir sat down, cocking his head thoughtfully.

  Odin met my eyes with his
one, his eyepatch reflecting the light. He looked truly baffled. “Yes. It is a personal matter. Nothing to do with…this,” he gestured vaguely.

  Freya cleared her throat. “Kára must also stand for her crime,” she said sternly.

  I folded my arms. “Dear?” I called out with a smirk, glancing to the empty space beside me.

  Kára appeared, lowering Hades’ Helm of Darkness from her head. The gods stirred in a chorus of gasps. Hades openly cursed, glaring at his helmet. “I knew it!”

  Poseidon frowned. “I thought it was Pandora!”

  “That’s what you get for thinking,” Grimm drawled.

  Hermes smirked at Kára, nodding his approval. Kára held the helm out to Hades and dipped her head. “Thank you for letting me borrow it, and I promise not to talk about the statue on Temple Island.”

  Hades froze in the act of accepting his helm, and shot her a horrified look. Then he accepted it with a respectful dip of his chin. “Of course, Valkyrie. My pleasure.” The look he shot towards Hera, on the other hand, promised later words. She shrugged, sipping her daiquiri.

  Kára was clever. She’d just forced Hades into agreeing it had been a loaner or she would tell the world about his love of dogs—alluding to the totally fictitious statue of him…embracing Anubis.

  Kára had helmet braid, but it still looked cute as she turned to face her boss, Freya. “I will submit to your judgment.”

  Freya pursed her lips, not pleased by the ruse that Kára had been here the whole time—a witness to her humility.

  “When?” I asked warily.

  Odin and Freya shared a long look. “A month?” Odin asked his wife.

  Freya narrowed her eyes. “No. Now.”

  Odin sighed reluctantly. “As you wish, my wife.” He settled his glare on me. “You have left a vacancy in Asgard. You murdered Thor. My son. Then you kept Mjolnir—a powerful symbol to Asgard. That cannot go unpunished.”

  I nodded, waiting.

  “Although he deserved it, I cannot ignore such a crime. Thor had duties and responsibilities, and now those are being neglected. Since your fellow Horseman holds Mjolnir, and he only killed Thor with the assistance of your power, Asgard holds you accountable.”