Grimm: A Novel In The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series (The Temple Chronicles Book 3) (10 page)

After all, there were a few more gargoyles within throwing distance.

About three-dozen stone sentinels.

They stretched the entire length of the impressive landing, a good hundred feet, give or take, and were spaced no more than ten feet apart. The bracelet on my wrist pulsed lightly to let me know everything was functional, but I avoided tapping into any of the live feeds, sensing no alarms. Doing so would have superimposed a visual sweep of each Griffin’s post over my own vision. A very disturbing sensation. Gunnar began to chuckle lightly. “Nice.” I tapped my wrist in a quick double beat, reinitiating
sentinel
mode. The gargoyle cooed lightly and then shifted back to attention, appearing inanimate again.

“Puppy want to go for a walk?” I oozed in a high-pitched, animated voice. His face turned to stone. “I was planning on saying
hey
to my parents, see if they have any advice about the Grimms. Them or Pandora. I’d honestly take anything I can get right now.”

Gunnar shrugged. “Why not?” He eyed the gargoyles again. “Sure they’re enough?”

I smiled, nodding. “Yep. This is only one layer of protection. I’ll know immediately if anyone shows up at the gate uninvited, giving us plenty of time to make it back here before anyone even gets near the front door of the house.” He looked unconvinced.

“What if they can just
Shadow Walk
in here like you?”

“Warded. Only I can do that.” It was one of the first things I figured out how to do with my new power. And the first thing I had tested against, much to Jafar’s frustration.

“Okay. Let’s be quick.” He sighed, sounding resigned to leave his post to the
Guardians
. I rolled my eyes. Typical
Type A
personality trait.

Gunnar quickly matched my stride as I made my way towards the office. At times like this, it was still difficult for me to think of
Chateau Falco
as
mine
. I felt inadequate to the task of owning such an impressive and historic icon for a home. The grounds had been in the family since the 1700’s. But now I was the last Temple. No other siblings or children to carry on the name. No one else to share the wandering halls with. A house deserved living bodies to fill it with laughter, cries, and life.

But it only had me. And my friends, I guess. Soon Indie would become a permanent staple of the rambling property, and I would get to show her all the Chateau’s secrets. Gunnar knew quite a few of them, having practically grown up here with me, but he didn’t know all of them. I wondered what it would be like to share my home with her, smiling distantly at the thought.

Gunnar spoke softly. “Are you still planning on doing it this week?” He asked.

He was, of course, referring to my proposal. I nodded. “Yes.”

He grunted. “Even with…” he waved a hand at, well, life in general, implying the Grimms. “All of this suddenly springing up on you?”

I thought about that for a few seconds and finally nodded. “Yeah. I guess I am. I can’t let them take something like that away from me. I’ve got to keep on living, man.”

He smiled over at me, nodding. “Good.” We walked on a bit longer in silence, enjoying each other’s company. “I’m assuming that is why you originally planned the stop underneath Plato’s Cave. At your secret vault. The one even I didn’t know about.” He sounded hurt. Slightly.

“Yes. The engagement ring was down there.” I answered. Then I offered an olive branch. “No one knew about that vault. No. One. Not you. Not Indie. Not my parents. No one.”

He glanced at me, waving a hand to signify burying the hatchet. “Except someone found out.”

I muttered under my breath, which caused him to look at me again. “Yeah. They did. Kind of fortuitous that the vault also held the books.”

“Fortuitous. Right.” He growled, not sounding pleased. “Or it was a setup.”

I nodded, my attitude growing darker. “Or that.” I agreed. I felt his eyes rest on me, then he nodded, glad that I was on the same page.

I was on the same letter.

We finally reached the office and I pulled open the massive wooden doors. The fire was burning softly, casting the room in an orange glow.

And we weren’t alone.

Mallory sat before the fire in my father’s old armchair. He didn’t even hear us enter at first, but jolted as the door clicked shut. He lurched to his feet, a crackling spear of electricity in one hand, and a tumbler of whisky in the other. He was breathing heavy until he recognized us. “Master Temple…” He answered, sounding guilty at his aggressive reaction. The power coursing over the weapon zapped out and he tossed it on the ground at his feet. “Dean told me something rather troubling…” He hadn’t been around when we got home. He was kind of an enigma, disappearing at odd times. But he had always been that way. In fact, I hadn’t even seen him more than one time in the years he had worked for my father. I guessed he was supposed to be an added layer of security. And security worked best when none knew it was present.

I nodded at him. “It’s true. The Grimms are back in town and they want to take me out. And any acquaintances.” I let him chew on that, no holding back for my crew.

“Aye. What do ya’ need me to do, Laddie?”

I lowered my head in gratitude.
Laddie
was an affectionate name from Mallory. And I cherished it in my current mentality of despair. “You just did it, Mallory. Thanks.”

“Aye.” He eyed us curiously. “Paying yer’ respects?”

I nodded.

“I’ll make the rounds then. I don’t trust the security system, even with the
Guardians
online, as much as my own eyes.” Gunnar grunted his agreement. Mallory left the fire after picking up his spear and downing the last of his drink. On the way past us he offered me his scarred, iron-hard forearm, his eyes twinkling with anticipation and support as he nodded a single time. I clasped it, squeezing once.

He did the same with Gunnar and then left. The resulting quiet felt like a heavy blanket over the office. Aged paintings of my parents hung above the fireplace, staring stoically down at us. Two smaller paintings of Gunnar and I as children in ridiculous superhero poses framed the fireplace, lending life and humor to the hooded stares of my parents. My father had taken the photos, had them painted, and had chosen to place them here of all places. Gunnar was shaking his head slowly with an amused grin at the memory of that day.

It had been the day my parents gave him his shifting rune. The rune that allowed him to master his werewolf skin rather than becoming a raving psychopath once a month.

I approached the bookshelf and reached for the lever that opened the secret passageway. The house was rife with them. If it wasn’t for Death allowing me to speak with my parents after they had died, I may never have discovered that the primary entrance to the Armory was here at
Chateau Falco
. My house. I had thought the only entrance was at Temple Industries, but that had been destroyed by a rogue Academy Justice who had been trying to break in and take the Armory for himself in order to ignite a new world order during
Mardi Gras
not too long ago.

It had been under Jafar’s watch.

Yet another reason he hated me. As if it had been my fault his employee went bonkers and tried to use my inheritance to lay waste to the Academy.

I shifted the pressure release valve and watched as the fire suddenly roared brighter. This wasn’t the Armory yet, just a secret access point to the area that
housed
the entrance to the Armory. See, I told you my digs had all sorts of cool secret passageways and whatnot. Some more dangerous than others, and I was entirely confident that I knew only a fraction of what lay hidden beneath
Chateau Falco
’s skirts. I couldn’t wait to explore my home with Indie.

Gunnar glanced thoughtfully behind us to the doorway leading back to the hallway and our women as if about to change his mind, but then back to me. “Nervous?” I asked.

“I’ve just never been in there before.” He admitted. “And I worry for them…”

I nodded. “Don’t worry. They’re safe. Mallory is prowling the halls too. With his crazy ass lightning spear.” I smiled.

I chuckled. “Some day you’ll have to tell me where he got it.”

I shrugged helplessly. “No clue.” Like I said, Mallory was sort of an enigma to me. “You ready?” I asked. He nodded after a pause.

“Okay. We’re not there yet. This is a secondary security measure my dad installed. The entrance to the Armory is only one of the things he hid down in the crypts. Follow me exactly.” And then I stepped into the burning fireplace, which should have roasted me into bacon, but didn’t.

Instead, I fell. At least it
felt
like falling. Pandora had told me it was really just a form of
Shadow Walking
to another dimension, or at least the shortcut that existed between two locations on the map. I had told her it felt similar to my Maker power. She had laughed, patting me on the back.
Who do you think made the magic in the first place? Wizards just found a way to copy it. Even if only primitively
.

I landed lightly on my feet and waited for Gunnar to appear beside me. He did with wide eyes, glancing about nervously before spotting me. He brushed off his pants and stepped closer. “This Hogwarts stuff creeps me out.” He grumbled.

“Just wait.” I teased.

We walked for a few minutes, turning down several halls, until we approached a ten-foot tall door made of living stone.

When I say
living
, I’m being literal. The door depicted a woodland scene, complete with foliage, nocturnal creatures, a small pond, stars, and a full moon. But the carvings on the door darted about as if alive. Fish darted about between reeds in the pond, and an energetic pair of small owls flitted from one thick branch to another. A lone wolf sat on his haunches at the bank of the pond, hungrily eyeing the owls. The trees swayed in an unseen wind, and then one of the owls abruptly dove down into the pond, razor sharp claws extended. He scored a hit, flapping back to the tree to savor his fresh fish. Knowing what was about to happen, I pointed down at the bottom of the pond for Gunnar to see. The lone wolf also watched, no obvious reaction in his hungry eyes.

When the unlucky fish breached the water clutched in the owl’s talons, another was instantaneously born at the base of the pond. A fishling? A fish baby? I shook my head. I wasn’t a biologist.

Look, people, a tiny freaking fish.

It was magical. Obviously, of course, but I’m referring more to the
beauty
of someone, at some point in time, investing their power to create a living mural for no other reason than that they wanted to. That was what magic meant to me. It wasn’t all about cool explosions and Hollywood level special effects. Magic, at it’s core, was about life. And death. And the beauty of the two forces comingling. At least to me.

I smiled distantly as I pulled out a small penknife to slice the pad of my thumb enough to cause blood to spill. Then I reached out to caress the lone wolf’s fur. He growled, but it wasn’t the familiar friendly sound I was used to hearing after visiting the Armory so many times.

Usually he growled in contentment, appreciation for his master’s touch.

This time it was a warning growl, and he abruptly snapped his jaws at me before padding over to the opposite end of the pond, as if that would keep me away from touching a two dimensional carving.

I stood there in disbelief. That had never happened before.

The entrance to the Armory usually opened at the touch of my blood to the wolf’s fur.

But this time it hadn’t.

Gunnar was watching me expectantly, no doubt waiting for a great revelation of some kind. I hefted the satchel on my shoulder nervously, only too aware that for whatever reason, I could no longer plan on storing the books in the Armory.

It was locked to me.

I really didn’t have time for this sort of thing.

“Hey, wolf.”

“Yes?” Gunnar answered drily.

“No, not you. Him.” The wolf in the carving watched me silently. “What gives?” I asked him.

His mane of fur lifted in warning as he growled again.

“I’m locked out.” I clarified, in case it wasn’t obvious. The wolf barked once.

“Was that a yes, Lassie?” I asked sarcastically. He barked again.

Huh.

“Why?” The wolf merely stared back at me this time.

“Is it permanent?” I asked. The wolf barked twice. “No?” I asked. He barked once for
yes
. Unless I was batshit crazy, I was now speaking wolf. I turned to Gunnar for help. “You getting any of this?” He shook his head, eyes studying the wolf carving with sudden interest at the possibility of understanding him. I turned back to the door.

“You aren’t allowed to let anyone in?” I concluded. He confirmed with a single bark.

I turned to eye Gunnar over my shoulder and then shrugged. “Well, that’s a first. Not sure what to make of it.” I idly wondered if it was locked down due to me activating the
Guardians
. “Must be some kind of security measure.” The wolf barked once, which made me shiver. I hadn’t been addressing him, which meant that he could understand general conversations in his vicinity. I idly wondered if I had said anything to offend him in the past.

I didn’t want to piss off the bouncer at the door.

Even if the bouncer was a living stone carving. “Look, when I referred to you as a fleabag mutt the other day, I was just kidding.” The wolf merely turned his head away from me haughtily.

“How long is the door locked down?” The wolf glanced over a shoulder, but that was it, so I clarified my question. “Will it be locked down for long?” The wolf continued to stare back, which made me shiver. It meant that there wasn’t a
yes
or
no
answer to the question. Which meant other variables were involved that could alter his answer, rendering him unable to respond.
What the hell?

Maybe Pandora was just taking a bath and wanted some privacy. Or my parents were having a romantic stay-cation, and didn’t want to be disturbed – the equivalent of a sock on the door in a college dorm room. But that didn’t sound right to me.