Grimm: A Novel In The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series (The Temple Chronicles Book 3) (43 page)

Anything but this
, I whispered to myself as I raced to her side. I didn’t have a command to make the
Guardian
stop, not having planned on a need for it earlier. And I didn’t have any power left.

But… the
Guardians
were
mine
.

So using my mind, I silently, frantically, commanded it to
stop
, hoping I wasn’t too late.

It did, reverting back to a chipped stone statue, unmoving.

I let out a deep breath of relief. I didn’t know what that had been all about, but I didn’t care. Bloodlust, I guessed. She wasn’t moving, and blood muddied the earth. She had fought, tried to escape. Maybe my power had prevented her from fleeing to get help from the house. Had I killed her by trying to protect her? My mind almost shut down with guilt, but I shoved it away. There might still be a chance to save her.

I gripped her shoulders, shaking her gently. “Indie, please. Wake up.” My voice broke. Tears filled my eyes as I begged. “Please…” I shoved her chest several times, gripping her chin and forehead as I breathed air into her lungs. I lowered my head to her lips, listening for a breath.

Nothing.

I checked her throat for a pulse, my tears splattering her beautiful face.

Nothing.

I angrily slid an obstacle out of my way, not even looking to see what it was, as I checked her left wrist for a pulse, hoping for even a faint flicker of blood flow.

But found nothing.

My shoulders hunched as my watery gaze finally rested on the object that had impeded me. It covered the hand I had wanted to place my mother’s ring on. To show her my undying love.

But that beautiful, delicate, hand was wearing the
Infinity Gauntlet
oven mitt, as if saying
yes
to the question she never got the chance to hear.

My heart shattered, then burst into flames, and I collapsed, body shaking. My mind flew, alternating between guilt, unbridled rage, sadness, and love at her wearing the ridiculous oven mitt.

“I love you, Indie…” I breathed as Gunnar rested a hand on my back, breathing heavily as he fought his own grief. A primal, beastlike scream shattered the night.

I didn’t even realize that it was my own. Power raced out of me.

The earth cracked in a perfect circle around me, earth crumbling away to form a three-foot deep moat of living green fire that soared up a few feet above the ground. Screams and shouts of alarm filled the morning air. But I didn’t have the energy to pay attention.

I was consumed with power. And it was beyond my control.

Energy poured out of me, deftly weaving to and fro at unseen commands by my subconscious mind, and the air abruptly formed a miniature tornado just inside the ring of fire, whipping our clothes and hair about with snapping cracks. My knees began to shake and my eyes instantly welled up. The ring of fire flared higher as a pillar of water waist thick erupted into the sky, at least fifty yards high, originating near Indie’s motionless body. A dozen bolts of lightning struck the top of the column of water in as many seconds, creating a dense fog to slowly fall to the ground like dry ice as the lightning effectively ate the excess water before it could rain down on us. The explosions abruptly stopped, causing my ears to ring, and gravity took hold, sending the water back down to the earth, the spigot abruptly ceasing. Jacob’s eyes widened in disbelief, staring at me with shock.

Alucard suddenly darted out and latched onto a form hiding behind a bush. I heard fists striking flesh, and then a body landed on the ground at my feet. Without warning, I reached out and snapped open the collar around Ichabod’s throat, not caring to discover what flavor of power he would use to retaliate. Then I stood and stomped on his back. I picked up a conveniently discarded nearby sword, ready to slice his throat.

Slowly.

Gunnar placed a restraining hand on my forearm, shaking his head defiantly. “Not like this. It will break you.” His eye met mine in a blow of reality, bringing me back to myself. I was panting, muttering under my breath, feeling out of touch with reality, just a creature of emotion. Like a psychopath. Even the sprites were watching me cautiously.

I took a breath, closing my eyes for a moment. Then I opened them, and nudged the body, flipping him over so that I came face-to-face with their spell-slinger, Ichabod. His blue eyes were pained, momentarily stunned, but then they calmed, watching me in silence. I didn’t spot one ounce of hatred at him losing the battle to a Freak. And his eyes weren’t black.

Jacob sounded panicked, clutching his stomach in my peripheral vision. “He can heal…” He broke out into a fit of coughing, unable to finish. I had almost forgotten. I had seen Ichabod heal death.

I never broke eye contact with Ichabod. “You will heal my friends. Now. And owe me a favor later, no questions asked.”

Jacob seemed to understand the implicit fact that to grant me a favor later they would have to be alive, which meant…

Jacob began to speak but I didn’t look at him. “No questions asked.” I growled.

He finally relented, realizing it was more than he deserved. “You took someone from the dragons.” I told him, not breaking eye contact with Ichabod. “Where are they?”

Ichabod nodded at me, realizing Jacob no longer held any power over the situation.

A hazy silhouette became apparent off to the side, miraculously out of the danger zone and safe from the battle. They were wrapped in shadows, indiscernible other than as a vaguely human form. They turned to face us and I sighed in relief. The retaliation would have been profound if they had been harmed. I wasn’t concerned for myself, but I was concerned for my friends. I was going to disappear after this. All I brought was harm to those near me.

My company was no more.

The threat was no more.

Indie was no more.

I had
nothing
.

Ichabod spoke in a dry voice. “They are unharmed.” He mimicked my pronoun, not providing me an answer as to whether it was male or female. I wondered if he had done that subconsciously, or was it an effort to match my cloaked statement? Had he presumed that my choice not to name their sex was a subtle hint that those by my side shouldn’t know? I pondered that, nodding finally at Ichabod.

Another thought hit me. He had used magic. But he was collarless…

He was a
Freak
.

On a leash. Well, he
had
been on a leash. Until I had broken it.

And I had seen him heal the dead. My heart began to beat faster at the potential. Perhaps Indie wasn’t lost after all. I managed to keep my tone emotionless. “If you do this, I may let you two live.” He met my gaze, unblinking, and then gave a single nod.

I pointed at Indie and he shook his head. “I need to… borrow some power from your friends to even have a hope at saving her. I’m spent.” I didn’t understand that, but waved him on to hurry. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but I also wanted to give him whatever chance he needed to bring her back.

He climbed to his feet, a hand slowly moving to his throat to reverently touch virgin skin, but eager to not make any sudden movements. He closed his eyes momentarily, and then approached Gunnar. My friend held up his hands, eyes on fire with distrust. “No. I’ll go last.” The Grimm hesitated, and looked at me. I nodded. He bowed his head deferentially, and then moved on to Tory. He gripped her shoulders, which made me flinch, and her arm socket began to glow.

I saw the form of a new arm growing instantly, and then she gasped, collapsing to the earth with a groan. Everyone simply stared. The sprites were watching him with thoughtful, incredulous gazes. They began murmuring softly to one another in a language I couldn’t understand. Ichabod smiled idly as if understanding them, but said nothing.

He approached Alucard, who was covered in scratches, some deep enough to sport muscle, gristle, and bone to the naked eye. But the wounds hadn’t slowed him down at all. He made short work of my friends, healing a few broken limbs and gouges from claws, burns from dragon fire, and any other injury.

He slowly approached me, wobbling lightly on his feet before coming to a stop, hands at his sides. I pointed at Gunnar. My friend again shook his head, pointing at Indie.

Ichabod looked from Gunnar to Indie, then his head sagged.

“I cannot…” he all but whispered in defeat.

“Pardon?” I growled. “You told me you would power up with my friends’ magic. I’ve seen you heal mortal wounds before. Do it. Now.” The sword may or may not have risen in my quivering fist, ready to draw blood.

He held up a weak hand. “I do not have the strength to do so. Not after the fight and healing your friends. They were all weak. Expended. At their limits. They put everything into this fight, and there isn’t enough for me to borrow from in order to heal her. And…” he hesitated, “She is too far gone, and has no magic to aid me. Healing my… brothers was different. I could draw on their power to assist me. But everyone here is on their last legs.” He lifted compassionate eyes to mine and shrugged in weariness, defeat, and resignation to his impending fate.

“Use mine, then.” His head lifted.

“I cannot.” He hesitated, as if debating to elaborate. “You should be dead right now.” He looked at the still flickering green flames and the wet ground around Indie. “That shouldn’t have been possible. You should be dead.” He watched me thoughtfully. “Besides, I am barely standing. I have nothing left in me. Healing a dozen warriors without much remaining magic to aid me forced me to use my own reserves. I am depleted.” He sighed, dropping his eyes, gaze locked onto the sword in my fist. “But even before healing your friends I couldn’t have helped her.” He added, answering my fear.

I saw Gunnar shrug across from me, behind Ichabod now. He had circled him on silent feet. He wasn’t going to be healed either. His pained expression let me know he shared my grief, relieving me of any responsibility or guilt I may have harbored on his behalf for sacrificing an eye.

Jacob began to wheeze in laughter. “You thought it would be that easy, Maker? Even
we
can’t change fate.”

I slowly turned to face him, confident that Gunnar could take out Ichabod if he tried to attack my defenseless back. “You look constipated, Jakie.” I whispered.

“Wha-”

He abruptly cut off with a grunt as I slammed the sword into the earth all the way to the hilt. Bolts of green tracer fire instantly spider-webbed outside of the perimeter of the green fire, and I heard twin screams as they burned two unseen surviving Grimms to death. Jacob looked startled, sitting ramrod straight with wide eyes. Then he coughed, and blood bubbled out of his lips. Several took a weary step back, turning to me with confusion obvious on their faces.

I slowly withdrew the sword from the ground and it came out dripping crimson heart’s blood. I wasn’t sure how I had done it, but I had impaled him with the tip of the blade. From a dozen feet away. And it had killed two other Grimms I hadn’t known survived. Hell of a way to go.

“There, now you should feel better.” I muttered, turning away to face Ichabod again.

He was watching me. “You told him you would let us-”

“I lied.” I answered bluntly.

He stared at me. Then he began to laugh. The motion actually seemed to wear him out because he fell to the ground and his eyes rolled back into his head. One of the sprites raced to his side and had him conscious again after a few moments. I didn’t give him a chance to get his breath. My voice was cold, heartless. But I would at least do my duty. Keep my city safe.

“You are the last Grimm.” The sprite made a choking sound, but Ichabod didn’t flinch. “You will not bring your brothers back. You owe me a favor, and until then you are on a very,
very
tight leash. You so much as let out a fart without my permission and I will make your last days on this earth an eternity of pain.” Alucard muffled a laugh, but Barbie looked agitated. I ignored her. Ichabod nodded once confident I was finished speaking. I flicked a hand dismissively and his body flew a dozen feet away, slamming into a tree trunk with a grunt of dispelled air. “Keep an eye on him.” I muttered to no one in particular. I heard Gunnar begin coordinating some wolves to surround Ichabod, who very wisely hadn’t moved.

I stared down at the love of my life, my cheeks dripping with unbidden tears. She was still sporting the
Infinity Gauntlet
oven mitt.

I smiled as I imagined a world where I had heard her shout,
Yes
, to my proposal.

A world where she had even heard the question in the first place.

Chapter 43

I
felt people beside me as I forestalled my next action.

Burying an innocent, beautiful, intelligent woman. A woman who more than anything else had wanted to see my world.

My mouth tasted like ashes.

Well, she had gotten her wish. Gotten to see my world.

Gunnar stood on my left, unspeaking; his good eye closest to me. He held out a hand. I frowned, and finally found the muscles necessary to control my own hand to meet his. A cool metal object touched my skin, physically weighing practically nothing, but psychically weighing several tons. He murmured something about the wolves finding something, but I didn’t catch it all as I opened my fingers and stared at my mother’s engagement ring in my palm. Then I stared down at Indie, and the tears spilled faster.