Grimm: A Novel In The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series (The Temple Chronicles Book 3) (46 page)

Her face darkened, but she kept her calm. “You are amassing quite the arsenal.” The Armory was left unspoken, but it was obvious. She was also subtly referring to my crew.

“Not by choice. By necessity. Your people obviously went rogue. You need to clean house. Then we can talk. Maybe. I might be busy.” Her face darkened, but she didn’t respond.

Then a subsonic scream tore the night as a gateway appeared before her. The sound wasn’t necessary. More like a parting slap directed at me. She shooed the Justices through the gateway and we were suddenly free from their meddling. Jafar looked panicked. I smiled at him.

“Let’s see how gentle I can be.” I grinned.

And I sent a blast of power into him before he could retaliate. He slammed into the base of Indie’s tree, head cracking into the wood in a red splatter. Then I let loose. Twin bolts of lightning slammed into him as I cast him up into the air in a vortex of power. He evaporated into nothing, and my vision rippled, more black flecks racing across my eyes. A coil of darkness overcame me for a few moments. I felt like I had swallowed rancid oil. And then I found myself somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere familiar.

And terrifying.

Chapter 45

I
stood in a blinding white room. White couches, white walls, white tables… listen, you get it.

My
existence
was a stain on this place.

And I had been here before.

Last time I had been here was only a few months ago. Ironically, it was also after a fight with Jafar and his Justices. A rogue Justice. A sprinkling of Horsemen, Angels, and Demons had also made an appearance.

But even having been here before, I still wasn’t sure what this place
was
.

Death had told me not to talk about it. And had seemed alarmed that I knew of it. Last time when I had been here I had stained anything I touched. Out of curiosity, I tried it again on a hidden corner of a lampshade. As I withdrew my fingers, I saw the stain. Although this time the stain seemed darker. I began to panic at that. What did it mean? Where was I?

And what was that
noise
?

I froze.

Noise
.

Footsteps approached from somewhere in the house, and they were rapidly drawing closer. I began panting, willing myself back to the gardens outside my home. But nothing happened.

And those footsteps kept right on coming.

They sounded like boots on hollow wood – like everyone’s upstairs neighbor in the morning when you were trying to sleep in. In fact, the pictures on the wall began to shake slightly with each step.

Whatever was coming was
big
.

I clenched my eyes, willing, begging, to teleport myself out of here. I began to hear heavy breathing as the footsteps entered the room just outside mine.

Please, please,
please
…

I
really
didn’t want to meet the owner of this house. Especially not after staining his lampshade. He seemed like the kind of guy who might notice. And might take offense. Anyone who lived in a white house was undoubtedly OCD about things like that.

My eyes quested the room for any possibility of escape. They briefly settled on a book resting on the coffee table and I froze. The book was obviously white, but stained with grey fingerprints. The cover was a pressed image and the words of the title were legible from a few feet away.
Through The Looking Glass
. I had touched this book last time I was here, and the fingerprints were all mine. My skin began to prickle. This book had been on the bookshelf last time I was here. Which meant that whoever lived here knew of my previous intrusion, and had left the book out as a warning… or a conversation starter. But I really didn’t want to have a conversation.

At all.

The handle began to turn, and my stomach roiled as the door began to open.

I managed to see a gnarly red beard and a giant booted foot enter the room before my body evaporated to a cloud of mist and I found myself suddenly back in the gardens, panting wildly. Sirens filled the air, and I heard bullhorns, slamming car doors, and angry shouting.

My eyes danced about wildly, trying to make sense of the room and my sudden change in surroundings. How had the cops gotten here so fast? It had been quiet only a few minutes ago. How long had I been unconscious?

As my mind struggled to overcome my fear at escaping the strange room and make sense of the sudden riot of sound, my phone began to ring. I answered it instinctively, glancing at my friends. All were in the same position, and Gunnar was just now racing towards me, as if I had only just fallen.
What the hell
?

“Nate!” The voice belted directly into my ear canal.

My breath froze. “Othello?” I asked incredulously, feeling a deep anger building as I remembered she hadn’t answered any of my calls when I needed her most.

“Yes!” She was crying heavily. “You’re alright. Oh, thank
God
. I was so worried about you. I saw all your calls once I broke free-”

“Wait, what?” My anger sputtered.

“I was kidnapped. Held in a cell. I couldn’t escape. They didn’t harm me, just kept me in a cell. Really weird. Then last night I found that the door was unlocked and no one was guarding me so I fled. It was an abandoned building in Cairo. In fact, the whole street seemed deserted. I couldn’t find anyone. Not even a taxi. I had to walk a mile before anyone helped me. Then I couldn’t get a hold of you. What happened? You’re all over the news.”

“Yeah, I’m going to need to call you back. My lawyer is here.” I said, spotting Turner Locke running towards me.

“I called him, you idiot. An hour ago.”

I blinked. “Oh.” Turner reached my side, puffing heavily, the police racing up the grounds a hundred yards behind him. Talk about good timing. “Thanks. I’ll… I’ll call you back soon.” I lied, hanging up.

“Nate!” Turner shouted urgently. “Do I have your permission to prevent them from entering the grounds?”

I smiled. “Oh, yeah.”

He turned and ran back, waving his hands like a crazy person, a sheaf of papers in his fist. The cars stopped, men jumping out with weapons drawn. “Stop!” He commanded before they could whip out their bullhorns. Several cars sat idling by the entrance, calling for everyone to come out with their hands up, but they were just far enough back to not see any bodies. As were the cops now talking to Turner. “I have a letter from the mayor, signed by three judges that this man is innocent and your warrant invalid.” He declared.

I smiled, and walked towards the tree, tuning everyone out.

My mind raced as Gunnar stepped up beside me, turning to face the police, guarding me in case Turner failed, saying nothing. Othello had been kidnapped. It must have been the Grimms. They knew of her and didn’t want her blowing the whistle on their attack on Temple Industries.

What blew my mind was that they had had the foresight to do any of it. Something was missing. How could they have become so interconnected? There was another player somewhere helping them, and I didn’t think it had been Jafar. He was a thug. Not a planner. Not a schemer. This reeked of a schemer.

And the more I thought about it, I could think of only one other person who might know.

Death.

I had to go kill Death for failing Indie.

But I would make sure to ask him some questions first. I stood, ready to go take care of business. I looked up to see that the cops were mostly gone, the last of them making their escape. As if unaware of the cops I saw a man climbing off of a motorcycle only a few feet away from me. I was sure I heard it neigh like a horse. But I hadn’t heard him approach. I found myself growling, and then the world suddenly halted, except for us.

Snowflakes floated in the air, unmoving, and the last of the policemen stood outside their car, one foot inside the vehicle, one still on the ground. My friends stood in various positions, some pointing, some mouths open as if speaking.

All were still.

Good. I didn’t even need to leave my house to take care of Death.

Chapter 46

H
e began clapping, face serious, as he approached. “The Rider of Hope. I never thought you would be able to use it as a weapon so soon.”

I didn’t sense any magic other than the stillness of time. Which was odd. He normally reeked of magic, after you knew what to look for. “My hope is dead.” I whispered, glancing over at the tree. “You saw to that.” I finally lifted my eyes to meet his.

And he stopped.

Sure, I was kind of a badass and I had a reputation for being a hothead.

But this was Death.

And he had hesitated. Looking closer, I even noticed that he looked guilty, despite his next words. “I wouldn’t be so sure…” He answered cryptically.

“You were supposed to keep her safe.” My voice was a wreck, and my cheeks were wet with tears. “I thought that you of all people would understand that obligation. I trusted you.” I let venom lace my words, alluding to the death of his family so many centuries ago. His face was tight, offended, but empathetic of my tone. “I have one question.” He nodded. “Was it intentional?”

Death watched me in silence for a time, the world seeming to hold its breath. “You can speak freely. What you mean to ask is,
did I intentionally harm Indie in an attempt to hurt you
? Or,
did I intentionally allow her to be taken in an attempt to hurt you
?” He clarified. His face grew harder. “No. Neither of those. Never.”

I waited for him to continue. “That wasn’t my question.”

His face grew pained. “I’ll answer your
true
question. Was I manipulating events from the outside? Yes. Was it to aid the Grimms and overthrow you?” He stared up at the tree, a lone tear forming before he wiped it away. “I did not collaborate with the Grimms to aid them in any way, shape, or form. I swear it on my power. What they did, they did. I might have been able to stop it, but larger pieces are at play. It was…
necessary
.”

“Necessary…” The word sounded foreign on my tongue. My fury bubbled over and I slammed my fist into the ground, causing a minor shockwave of power to roll outwards from me in a rippling ring. It struck an invisible force and the sound of a thousand bells crashed over us, and time lurched back to normal around us.

Death looked amazed, but not fearful as he turned from the previously unseen ward to me with thoughtful eyes. Gunnar caught a glance at me, and flinched, suddenly noticing I wasn’t alone. He shouted and suddenly my crew was racing towards me. Most of them. Enough of them.

Although I didn’t need their help.

They skidded to a halt around Death, all to aware of my current opinion of the man. The place was silent as everyone watched me. I wanted to kill him.
Needed
to kill him. But… a nagging though crept into my mind. I honestly wasn’t sure what that would do to the world. Maybe we
needed
him. He was specifically tied to Armageddon. And I had met
actual
Angels and Demons.

They all walked cautiously around Death.

Not even considering his three brothers, War, Famine, and Pestilence.

I shook my head. Deciding that if at any point in my life I had needed a minute to clear my head, this was it. “Yeah. You should probably leave. I don’t trust what I may do to you if I see you here for even one minute longer.” He watched me, face looking torn with regret. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but shook his head.

He left.

On his motorcycle.

Again, I was confident I heard a neigh combined with the roar of the bike, but what caught me as odd was that he hadn’t used any magic. He could have simply
Shadow Walked
– or whatever his version of it was – out of my garden.

But he hadn’t.

A sign of respect? Not wanting to push the unstable Maker before him any further than necessary? Was I truly that dangerous in his eyes?

I didn’t speak as I turned back to the tree, considering the conversation as I took deep meditative breaths.
Hope
. The Rider of Hope. A Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse.