Grimm: A Novel In The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series (The Temple Chronicles Book 3) (32 page)

T
hen I realized who and what they were as Gunnar began to growl.

Werewolves.

And my heart skipped a beat as I realized
another
thing.

They held Ashley, bound and gagged, in a rough grip. She had a burlap sack over her head, but I remembered her outfit. Gunnar took a step closer, sniffing the air with a growl of recognition.

My mind scrambled. If they had Ashley, what had happened to Mallory? He had been the one watching her back. My anger was there instantly like a comforting blanket.

Well, I had needed to talk with these clowns anyway. One of them likely had my ring.

A thought struck me.

“Hey, Hector.” I said jovially. “How was your vacation to Greece?” The lead werewolf looked back at me, losing a bit of his composure.

“Who…” he began to respond, but Achilles interrupted him.

“
What
… what did you say his name was, Temple?” Achilles asked in a very soft, very deadly voice. I grinned.

Achilles
really
hated that name…

“Hector, meet Achilles. Achilles, this is Hector.” I turned to Death with a slight frown. “I’m sensing Déjà vu. Anyone else?” Indie’s eyes were wide. “Huh. Damndest thing.” I shrugged, turning back to the werewolves. Gunnar’s claws were now out, and Achilles had effectively pinned the werewolves into place with only his eyes. A flicker of power danced over his frame, and I momentarily saw a much scarier Achilles. Dressed all in leather armor, clutching a shield in his left fist, a spear in his right, and a Greek plumed helmet over his dome, like those ones in
300
. Then it winked out and street-clothes-clad Achilles again stood in his place.

I shivered a bit.

“My name is
not
Hector.” The lead werewolf answered, staring warily at Achilles. The Olympian grunted, nodding as his shoulders relaxed, obviously recognizing him on closer inspection. He shot a disapproving frown my way before approaching Death. I recognized the lead werewolf, the Alpha of the local pack, from a few months back when I had met him at this very bar. It had ended in an epic bar fight where Tory had laid him out cold. Then later I had a little skirmish with him and his pack. A rogue Justice of the Academy had framed me as his mate’s murderer. I had cleared it up, sending the Alpha the Justice’s head, but we weren’t friends.

Things were about to get hairy. They weren’t here to chat. And I was pretty sure they weren’t here to sell me a magazine subscription. Especially not with Ashley under guard.

Indie was holding Gunnar’s sleeve, tugging with all her might as she tried to keep him on our side of the street. He was panting – arms rippling with tension under his coat, fighting the urge to shift and destroy the threat before us. The threat holding his fiancé captive. I noticed Death leaning against the brick wall, smoking a clove cigarette, and watching the scene unfold. His eyes darted to Indie twice, eyes contemplating. I didn’t like his obvious interest in Indie. Not at all. I just didn’t have time to discuss it with him.

I returned my gaze to the wolves. There had to be a dozen of them. I hid my gulp. I saw a sign dangling in the wind in the background behind them, and burst out laughing.

The lead wolf glared at me, pulling his eyes from Gunnar. “What exactly do you find humorous about this situation, Temple?”

I pointed at the sign, immediately folding over as I clutched my stomach. “It’s… I can’t…” The werewolf turned to look.
Johnson’s Dog Park
was just legible under the snow that had accumulated on the sign. He turned back, eyes flashing, not finding anything funny about the sign. Indie stifled a laugh and Achilles chuckled before stepping up beside Death to lean against the brick wall. Death offered him a clove cigarette but Achilles waved him away. They murmured softly to each other for a second, and then turned to watch the result of the showdown.

I sighed. Obviously, we were on our own. I idly wondered about Death’s allusion to Achilles not being allowed to interact in a battle with the Grimms, and thought maybe the same restraint held him back here.

I mimed rolling up my sleeves as I shot a pointed glance at Death, flicking my head to Indie. Death nodded, called out to Indie, and patted the wall beside him and Achilles. If that wasn’t safe, I didn’t know what was. Indie shot a look at me, pained and concerned, but complied.

I turned back to the werewolves, stepping up beside Gunnar. “Looks like we’ve got all the tools necessary for a brawl, gents. Any last words?” I smiled. No one spoke. “Okay. That works. Before I murder all of you, I think you should apologize for trashing my car last night after the sewer fiasco.” The leader smiled, but didn’t speak, the reaction basically admitting the crime. I continued. “Fine, I’ll beat it out of you.” They collectively growled at my threat, but I ignored them. “Also, one of your pups has something that belongs to me. Guy built like a rhino fancies himself a pickpocket.” I didn’t spot him in the crowd, but several of the wolves snickered. Death chuckled from behind me. “If you give it up now I might not kill all of you,” I shrugged out of my coat, folded it, and placed it on the hood of our car. “As slowly.” I continued, turning back to them.

The lead werewolf scowled. “Before you get your panties in a twist, you should listen. The car was a warning. For him.” He pointed at Gunnar. “We’re not here for you. And your pack of spirit wolves is not permitted to participate.” He added, shooting me a thoughtful scowl. I managed to hide my smile, remembering my second meeting with this guy. I had led him to believe I had a pack of spirit wolves at my beck and call. Apparently he still believed it. He turned back to Gunnar. “You killed a member of my pack. I challenge you to a formal duel.”

I blinked.

Well.

There was
that
.

I raised my hand. No one acknowledged me. “Hey, I might have killed one too, furface. Who do I get to fight?” I hopped up and down on my feet as if warming up. “I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go over here. And Rhino still has my property.”

“
Rhino
survived. He’s recovering. You’re safe from repercussion.” His eyes were cold, merciless. “For now. So. Please. Stop. Running. Your. Mouth.” I stared back, incredulous. This was a first for me. I would have to let it play out and get my ring later. I turned to Death. He patted the wall beside him. Indie nodded furiously. My gaze tightened. But I couldn’t leave Gunnar to fight the Alpha alone. What if he cheated and the pack swarmed him? But I thought about that. The leader had challenged him to a formal duel. Which meant…

If Gunnar won, he would become the de facto leader of the St. Louis werewolf pack. At least this guy’s pack anyway. I wasn’t sure how many packs were in St. Louis. It also meant that it would be a one-on-one fight. The pack wouldn’t tolerate cheating. Even to help their Alpha. They valued strength and honor amongst themselves. Now, fighting another flavor of Freak was a different story. The victory was all that mattered there, but between wolves? Honor. Integrity. Duty. Responsibility.

So, Gunnar might actually have a chance here. I mean, Tory had taken this clown on. Then again, that had been a bar fight, not a no holds barred tooth and claw fight to the death. Still, Gunnar was downright scary when necessary.

And they had taken his girl, essentially forcing him to fight rather than submit. In their eyes, Gunnar had killed a packmate, and something needed to be done about it. Kind of like me having to fight Alucard yesterday.

Abruptly, a wolf stepped forward and spoke, eyes on the ground in submission. “Is this truly necessary, Ben? Surely you two can come to some sort of agreement. There are vampires in town, Grimms,” he shivered slightly. “Other enemies. This will do nothing but divide us. I-”

The Alpha, Ben, turned on a heel and slammed a fist into the werewolf’s stomach, causing him to fold to his knees. The Alpha stared down at him for a few silent seconds. “Anyone else?” No one moved. “I’m doing this to defend our pack’s honor. It isn’t a topic of conversation.” He added. The injured werewolf took a shaky breath and climbed to his feet, keeping his eyes down, but I swear I saw murder in them. Perhaps this duel wouldn’t be as professional as I hoped. The man nodded, and stepped back.

I kind of agreed with him. We were wasting time here, but I knew I would be outvoted. Even by Gunnar. Especially by Achilles, who was practically drooling at the chance to watch lethal violence outside the comfort of his own bar.

The Alpha turned back to Gunnar. “Your bitch hasn’t been harmed. The one
protecting
her,” he smiled wickedly, “was roughed up a bit, but should be fine.” I almost used magic to kill him, duel be damned. They had beat up Mallory. That scarred old mystery man on my payroll with a murky past and a bit of secret magic. But
how
? I didn’t have any time to think about it.

The Alpha waved a hand at Ashley. “She is merely… motivation. I’ve heard of your… distaste for battle when you didn’t think it necessary.” He glanced at Ashley. “She’s here to convince you that this duel is indeed
necessary
.”

He stepped forward, claws suddenly appearing where his hands had been. Now, Gunnar had a rune on his wrist that allowed him to partially shift at will. The only other kind of werewolf that could partially shift at will was someone either very,
very
experienced with his or her power, or an Alpha. The primary purpose of Gunnar’s rune was to prevent him from shifting into a raving psychopath on the full moon. All wolves were victim to this. Which was why they tended to live in packs, conveniently going on a long weekend trip or taking a few days off to go ‘hunting,’ far from civilization during these periods.

Alphas, on the other hand, were pretty similar to Gunnar. Not victim to the cycles of the moon, but
masters
of their beast.

So, now that I thought about it, Gunnar’s rune basically gave him the same abilities as an Alpha. He just didn’t have a pack. But depending on the outcome of this fight, that story might change pretty damn quickly. And without a real job – having been fired from the FBI – maybe my friend
needed
a pack.

Then again, Ashley was a Regular, and would likely not be welcome in a pack. Possibly even seen as a sign of weakness or disrespect if their Alpha preferred a Regular to another wolf.

This political game was quite complicated now that I thought about it.

I turned to shoot Gunnar a questioning look. He shifted his eyes momentarily and gave me a single nod. I maintained eye contact, giving him a chance to change his mind. Instead, he shrugged out of his coat, set it on the hood, and tossed my coat back without actually looking at me. He stood in jeans and a white tee, muscles still rippling beneath as his beast struggled to break free.

I finally trotted over towards Indie. I glanced at Achilles. “Shouldn’t we be worried about anyone seeing this?” I pointed at the windows.

Achilles shrugged. “No one looks. No one talks. Why do you think I chose this spot for my bar?” I didn’t buy it, and my gaze must have relayed that. “It’s mostly freaks in this part of town. They’ll watch and leave it alone. The Regulars won’t even notice. Not really a soft neighborhood, if you know what I mean. People usually duck and hide at the first sign of fighting in the streets.” His gaze drifted to the wolves, conversation apparently over.

Indie smiled in relief that I wouldn’t be fighting, and then shoved me lightly, noticing my distant gaze as my friend squared off with Ben.

“This really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

I paused, thinking. “It’s just… this is the first time the world hasn’t revolved around me. It disproves years of scientific data. Did I not mock him enough?” She shook her head with a bemused sigh and we watched two werewolves get ready to claw the shit out of each other.

Chapter 32

T
he pack formed a loose circle around the two wolves, blocking them from escape. I used the lull in action to shoot off a quick text to Mallory.

Stay strong, buddy. We have Ashley
.

I pocketed my phone to watch the fight. This was to the death.

Speaking of which…

I shoved the Horseman out of my way to get between him and Indie. Or at least I tried to. Death didn’t budge. Then he looked at me, gripped my coat with one idle hand, shook me a bit without any apparent effort, and then shoved me playfully, a gleam in his eyes as I stumbled a step, my coat caught in his fist.
Then
he let go. I glared back.

Freaking Horsemen.

He finally stepped aside, giving me enough room to take my space. I did so with a mutter, and turned to watch the fight. This was a new experience for me. Not being in the center of the chaos left me alone with my thoughts.

Standing next to the girl I wanted to propose to tonight. But I had no cake. And no ring. At least I still had the reservation at the French restaurant. As long as the Grimms didn’t choose tonight to request my presence. If so, I would just have to propose in the car on the way to my death. Jacob had said something that had made me feel slightly better. They didn’t typically harm mortals. Still, Indie had shot Wilhelm. I turned off those thoughts violently before they could escalate. Instead, I began running through scenarios, making sure I had enough time before our reservation to bake a freaking cake.