I shook my head, trying not to laugh. “For a butler, you’re pretty cool sometimes, Dean. High five?” I asked, holding up my hand.
He grimaced distastefully. “I hear you were wandering the halls naked again this morning.”
I lowered my hand. “I wasn’t wandering,” I argued. At his look, I sighed. “Yeah. Old habits die hard.”
The kitchen was silent for a moment. Then Dean casually unbuttoned his suitcoat, revealing a pistol on a shoulder-rig. “I’ve also been practicing my marksmanship with these air-soft guns. I can do so indoors. It’s remarkably efficient at eliminating the bad habits of any pesky residents.”
I studied him. Was he threatening to shoot me if I was found naked in the public areas? I gave his unblinking face a slow nod of understanding. Then I lifted my hands in surrender, slowly backing out of the kitchen.
One of these days, I would get a high-five from someone without having to argue about it.
It took me a while, but I finally made my way outside, not finding Talon indoors. I took a breath of fresh air, gazing out at the Gate in the distance. Dean had been right. About a dozen vans were parked up and down the street, and a handful of reporters were huddled in tight groups, surprisingly well-behaved. They leaned against their vehicles with cameras dangling from their necks. Some were pointing up at the massive white tree climbing up into the sky, snapping pictures of it, likely wondering why it glittered in the sun.
Well, that was because it didn’t have bark. It had scales, like a lizard. Like Carl. I frowned at the tree, recalling Carl’s comment about it being a Gateway to his dimension. From this vantage, the reporters could see the front door, and several with long scopes began snapping pictures as soon as they saw me exit the front door. But they didn’t suddenly rush the gates. Who the hell had Othello put on security? They were obviously doing a great job.
Still, I didn’t like it. Mordred had effectively trapped me, leaving my comings and goings a matter of public record with reporters surveilling Chateau Falco and her residents. I sighed, walking down the steps.
Luckily, there was a ton of trees, landscaping, and even a steep hill blocking the lower fifty feet of the tree from the reporters’ view. Because that’s where I finally found Talon speaking with Grimm – my unicorn.
The reporters would have lost their collective shit seeing those two. Maybe Dean had the right idea about keeping them on their toes with the target practice. It likely reaffirmed that they probably didn’t want to risk a late-night climb just to get a fresh photo. Then again, the walls were lined with Guardians like in Plato’s Cave.
I just hoped it was enough, because Mordred was up to something. I just knew it.
I walked up to Grimm and Talon, wondering where I wanted to begin.
Grimm wasn’t exactly the cute, My Little Pony edition.
He was like the washed-up child celebrity that had turned to drug smuggling for the cartels, rock and roll music, major felonies, maybe a bank heist or two, and he’d joined a biker gang for community service.
I don’t say that to imply he was out of his prime. Oh, no. He was just a dark son of a bitch.
And I loved him for it.
The black feathers of his mane and tail caught the sunlight, seeming to shine, drawing the eye towards the blood-red circles at the tips. His horn was a gnarly, thorn-covered bone, one that looked as if it would be more painful coming out of a wound than it would be causing one. His eyes flickered with fire, and as he snorted at whatever Talon had just murmured to him, slight flame flared up from his nostrils, kind of like the propane on a gas stovetop – always there, but flaring brighter when you cranked the dial.
My pussycat had just cranked up my pony’s dial.
Grimm pawed at the earth savagely, his silver hooves tearing into the manicured lawn. Then again, this section wasn’t all that manicured any longer, because Grimm and Pegasus liked to hang out here, sparring or attacking the hundred or so rainbow reflections cast upon the earth by the giant crystal I had hung from one of the tree branches high above.
Still, the grass was persistent.
Lawncare pro-tip – regularly water your lawn with the blood of your enemies for the spongiest grass. Several hundred creatures had died painful, excruciating deaths in this spot over the last few years. I had over fifty acres – most of it undeveloped behind the property – and all the shit always seemed to go down right here.
Like the giant tree Carl had grown with a haunting song and some small blood sacrifice.
Grimms, Elders, Greek heroes, monsters of numerous flavors, humans, and even a freaking Maker and Beast had died in this area.
I swept the lawn, frowning. Not this area, but literally right fucking here.
Was that why Carl had been able to grow his Gateway here? He was convinced that my mother had taught him the secret of the D – a running joke that had ultimately backfired on us. Maybe all that death, all that blood, had set the stage for this tree to grow so suddenly. Within a few minutes, it had grown a couple hundred feet tall.
Grimm neighed loudly, catching my attention and snapping me out of my thoughts.
I frowned when I saw one of the feathers hanging over his forehead, looking suspiciously styled. It was painted in the seven colors of the rainbow, but as I walked closer, I realized it didn’t look like a dye job. It was still wet, almost as if literally painted only a few seconds ago.
He saw me frowning at it and neighed proudly. “Rainbow. A twelve on the Fuck-Roy scale. I painted my mane with its blood for all to know and fear my duty. My devotion.”
I blinked at him a few times.
Talon cleared his throat. “Something about a guy named Roy G. Biv. Your Alicorn seems to despise him immensely. Much like how you judge the strength of hurricanes and tornadoes, Grimm has come up with a scale for rainbow sizes.” Grimm preened, batting his eyelashes as he nodded one time.
“Roy G. Biv…” I said slowly, reciting the colors of the rainbow in my mind – red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. “The acronym for the colors of the rainbow?” I asked.
My alicorn slammed a hoof into the ground, launching a clod of grass into the air. “No. He’s the motherfucker that created rainbows. Asshole prances about in Fae, concealing his movements while he tries to beautify everything in his path.”
I blinked again, and finally shook my head. “Sorry, man. He’s not a real person. It’s just an acron—”
“Don’t tell me what I know and don’t know, Rider,” Grimm snarled. “Why do you think I hunt his spawn at every opportunity?” He didn’t wait for me to answer, so it must have been rhetorical. “To draw out the bastard. I will get him one of these days. Do you know how long it took me to even discover his name?”
“I can honestly say I have no idea,” I said, careful to keep my face neutral.
“Well, the Reds told me his secret name, and now I have power over him. They told me the name has been passed down from generation to generation in their family. And only after learning my devotion to hunting him down, did they decide to share it with me. They saw how depressed I was to discover that Yahn wasn’t the Father of Rainbows, so they told me the bastard’s real name, and his nefarious legend.”
“Ah, I see. I didn’t know that,” I said, keeping my face serious. The Reds were becoming a problem, pulling more pranks than even I had as a youth. Then again, Grimm had seemed pretty set on murdering Yahn, and it seemed like the Reds had some kind of polygamous relationship with the glass dragon shifter. So, turning Grimm onto this imagined Roy G. Biv assassination contract seemed harmless enough.
Then again, an innocent prank much like that had erected this giant, scaly white tree, that looked suspiciously like Carl’s own skin.
“Grimm, can you give us a minute? I need to talk to Talon.” He didn’t reply, just shook his head from side to side, waving his rainbow forelock of hair at us, and then trotted away.
Chapter 33
Talon was staring at the ground, shoulders slump
ed. “I’m sorry, Wylde,” he whispered, sounding as if he wanted to open a vein.
I grunted, deciding to let him stew in his discomfort for a minute as I surveyed the grounds. It was strangely peaceful. The workers had finished fixing up the landscape after the most recent battle here between dragons and werewolves a few weeks back, and surprisingly, it felt… empty. Likely a result of all the reporters at the gate. Mordred’s plan in action.
I was used to shifters training and sparring on the grounds. Werewolves lounging about. My Guardian gargoyles sweeping over the perimeter to make sure we were safe, or Pegasus and Grimm racing each other over the house. Maybe even a dragon or two. Achilles and Leonidas sparring.
Carl lurking about, practicing his social skills to disastrous effect.
Or Hugin and Munin trying to shit on Talon—
I quickly looked up, fearing an aerial assault, but let out a breath when I didn’t see the pair of beady black eyes staring down at us. I relaxed, but wasn’t entirely comfortable with the realization that I hadn’t seen them in a little while.
Talon noticed me studying the tree and pounced on the opportunity to speak. “I keep looking over my shoulder for them, too.”
I didn’t say anything, letting him squirm a bit longer as I turned to look at the mansion. Chateau Falco loomed over us in the morning sun, all 17,000 square feet seeming to stretch like a sunbather, curving with the landscape as if the Earth had formed around her.
“You know,” I finally mused out loud, “I had a pretty good upbringing here. Plenty of room to cause trouble without fear of neighbors seeing magic. Gunnar could shift whenever he pleased. A good home for a boy.”
“Not much different from Fae, if you think about it. Freedom, and your parents got you a… pet.”
I glanced at Talon thoughtfully, and finally nodded. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. But a friend, not a pet.”
Talon followed in silence as I patted my satchel and began to walk towards the labyrinth. I didn’t intend to walk through it, but around it, to the back of the mansion and the ponds and water features. “How many flashbacks have you had, Tal?” I asked, pretending to not notice his sudden startled flinch. “You looked entirely too interested when Alvara mentioned helping me reclaim my memories.”
Talon stiffened, jerking his chin towards me. I nodded slowly. “You notice everything,” he whispered. I let him believe what he would as I continued walking. I’d only remembered it in the shower, having wondered why Talon had gone from bored and sleepy to suddenly intensely interested when Alvara had mentioned it.
“I felt like we were back there,” Talon finally murmured, studying the green walls of the labyrinth as we walked on the stone path leading between it and the side of the mansion, blocking out the sun. “Your flashback was one of the last times we saw each other before you left…” he whispered, voice raw with emotion. “But I only just remembered it.” His eyes flickered towards me, meeting mine for a heartbeat. “After our trip to Hell, incidentally…”
I grunted.
Talon nodded. “It’s why I was able to react so quickly last night. That was pretty much the first memory that came back to me, too, after…” he waved a hand vaguely, implying our first trip to Hell. “We were leaving Neverland and got separated from your parents for a few hours. Ran into a pirate and escaped. After finding your parents again, we said our goodbyes for the last time.” He grew quiet for a few moments. “Then Pan wiped my mind and delivered me to Oberon to begin my service.”
“Neverland,” I breathed, shaking my head. It was almost too much. Peter fucking Pan and I had played together beneath a giant fucking tree, fighting pirates and chasing our shadows.
My headache began to come back, and I closed my eyes.
“The headaches fade,” Talon said, noticing the pain in my features. “But do not press them. Just let them come back organically. I tried fighting them. It didn’t end well for me. I had a migraine for days. Had to hide in the Sanctorum. In one of those dark rooms.”
I frowned at him. “I thought you were just hiding from Hugin and Munin,” I murmured.
He shook his head. “I tried to force the memories back, and could barely see straight, let alone walk for a few days. After that, I just let them hit me on their own, but was sure to keep to myself if I felt them coming on. A faint throb to the temples, and you should go find some solitude.”
I growled. I had hoped to pepper him with questions, but even now, I felt my headache returning, throbbing harder the more I tried to press the fragmented memory. I remembered the events, but not the circumstances leading up to it. I could remember knowing Peter Pan, but not our first actual meeting. I remembered Talon being with me and keeping me safe after a pirate had stumbled onto my path through the woods at night. I remembered my parents being the only safe adults. All the others were deadly. But nothing before or after, especially not my final goodbye with Talon.
My brain began to throb harder, and I let out a breath, relenting.
“Damn it,” I muttered, scuffing the ground with my boot in frustration.
Talon nodded, flexing and retracting his claws absently. “Yes. Like a shiny just out of reach.” He abruptly cleared his throat. “I mean, I know it is frustrating.”
I thought about the situation for a few moments, careful to keep far away from specifics. “You think the flashbacks work backwards? The most recent events coming back first, and the others following in order?”
Talon was silent for a few moments. “I thought so, at first, but I think I may have discovered a pattern…” He waited until I waved a hand for him to continue. “Mine all seem to relate to some important moment. Rather than moving chronologically, the memories move more in order of significance – a major lesson of some kind, or an unexpected moment of compassion, or a danger we overcame together.” He let out a breath, sounding frustrated.
“Something that changed you somehow, you mean.” Talon nodded eagerly, glancing over at me as we finally reached the back gardens. The ponds glittered like sapphires and emeralds in the sunlight, and the constant burble of flowing water was soothing. I saw we weren’t the only ones back here. Alex was sparring near one of the outer ponds. “More related to the heart…” I said, angling us towards Alex. Because I needed to talk to him, and Pandora, too. To shut down the Armory, and possibly put a lid on whatever hobbies they’d decided to pursue. Or at least get some kind of explanation about it. The Armory might have the Devourer, too. Glancing over at Talon, I decided to wait a few minutes before bringing that up.
Talon thought about my comment. “Yes, but both good and bad memories of the heart. Not just nice memories. Anything that seemed… momentous.”
“What about all the stuff in the middle?” I asked. “Like, you remember our goodbye, and then probably another event some span of time before that, right?” He nodded. “What about the period of time between the two memories?”
He was already nodding. “That stuff just kind of fills in on its own time. A few days after my second memory, I realized I recalled bits and pieces connecting the two. Enough to help me put a length of time between them, at least. Before that, I felt rather overwhelmed. Recalling two random moments, but not knowing when they happened in relation to the other…”
I opened my mouth to ask why my flashbacks had been delayed, but my cellphone rang. Out of habit, I answered, putting it on speaker. Alex was closer, now, but was too focused on his sparring to take notice of us.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Hey,” Alucard said, voice sounding annoyed and pompous. “I’m ready to spill.”
It took me a moment to catch on. “About your trip to Italy? And New York? Maybe a feisty redhead?” I asked, frustrated he had held back this long, even though he was apparently ready to cough up the details, now.
The line went silent for a moment, and I could tell I had caught him off guard. It also gave me proof he had been working with Quinn in some fashion. The plot thickens.
“Sure, if yo
u hurry. But if you take too long, I’m going to start decapitating the locals.” I heard a lot of angry curses and threats in the background.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, frowning, but also picking up on the seriousness layered in his flippant comment, which had obviously been worded in order to get a reaction from whoever was around him.
“I’m sitting here with the…” then he let out a laugh. “The Desperate Vampires of St. Louis,” he said, still laughing. “Just as dramatic, and just as cancerous as those reality TV shows.”
Shit. That wasn’t good. I needed their allegiance, not hatred.
“Don’t kill them yet. I’ll be right there. Where are you?”
“Well, I tried to get them to join me under the Arch for some sun, but they weren’t having it. You could say they’re a little grouchy. It’s past their bedtime.” Because it was afternoon.
“Literally none of that helps me. Where are you?”
“Check the Drop Zone,” he said, and my eyes immediately shot over to an area about a hundred yards away, beneath a giant willow tree near where Alex was sparring. I scowled, spotting Yahn and the Reds lurking near the trunk, looking suspiciously prepared to go somewhere, but standing still, staring at the Willow tree as if waiting for something.
We had set up the spot as a Drop Zone for Gateways – that way we didn’t accidentally slice someone in half when any number of people used the Tiny Balls I had Grimm Tech producing like candy. I jerked a thumb at Talon, motioning him to follow me as I began jogging over towards the Drop Zone.
“They don’t look suspicious at all,” Talon said, keeping pace as he studied the three young dragons.
I grunted my agreement, especially when they noticed us coming and flinched simultaneously. “A little more warning would have been great, Alucard,” I snarled into the phone.
“Is that Talon? Oh, this is going to be a hoot,” he chuckled. “And I tried to talk to you this morning. Maybe you should put your dog on a leash.” Alucard’s Southern drawl dripped like molasses into my ear. “Get ready, Little Brother. In three… two… one.”
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