Grimm: A Novel In The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series (The Temple Chronicles Book 3) (47 page)

I chuckled, shaking my head.

Yeah, right.

They needed a new Human Resources department.

I couldn’t even keep my girlfriend safe. Or my friends.

I had told Death that my hope was dead. And he had answered cryptically, as all ancient beings did, that maybe that wasn’t the case. I watched the silver leaves swaying in the wind hundreds of feet above me. Thinking about it now, I had imbued the tree with my hope. My hope for Indie to have a pleasant passing onto whatever the next realm of existence was, if there was such a thing. Thoughts of the tree inevitably brought the memory of the White Room back into existence. I shivered, thinking about the giant ginger living there.

I would have to look into it.

Tomorrow.

After I decided what to do with Death.

After all, he had been in the room too. Or at least knew of it.

Regardless, the tree seemed to emanate a similar power as the gentle throbbing of the mysterious room. Also, it was a bleached bone-white shade. Pretty similar to the room.

Tory offered me her healed arm, face drawn in an attempt at a tired smile. I took it, and we slowly made our way back to the mansion. Gunnar was the first to speak.

“Ichabod is gone.”

I halted, jarring Tory. His face was hard as we locked eyes. We had a silent conversation, where he promised to keep an eye out for him. I nodded, and continued on, strides more powerful now.

To be honest. I used my anger as a crutch. I wasn’t angrily storming away to formulate plans to take out Ichabod and deliver the last dose of vengeance against the Grimms.

I was figuratively running. The towering tree seemed to chuckle at my cowardice as I fled. Laughing softly, silently, eerily familiar. I shivered, and blocked it away.

The conversation picked back up as we walked. I caught bits and pieces of the events after the battle, but to be honest, I didn’t care. As long as they were safe, I was happy. They wouldn’t have me around much longer to drag them into trouble anymore.

Small favors.

Chapter 47

I
t had been a week since the battle, and the mansion was thankfully quiet again. Having a pack of werewolves and their pups on the residence had been stressful, but I had never seen Dean so lively. Every spill and broken artifact had been met with ultimate happiness at being able to perform his function.

A Butler.

I had let everyone stay at my place for a while to verify that their homes were safe and that we hadn’t missed any of the Grimms. Other than Ichabod, that is. We had yet to find a trace of the man, no matter how hard we tried. It seemed that his experience off the grid was coming in handy for him. Not the other way around. I had hoped that his ignorance would allow him to be caught on camera, or to accidentally challenge someone to a duel for stealing the milk he himself wanted at the grocery store.

No such luck.

I had made sure to hide the books well, under dozens of protection spells so that they could never,
ever
be found. The sprites had been satisfied, barely. They still believed that at least
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
should be destroyed, but I couldn’t force myself to burn a book, no matter how dangerous.

I was a bookstore owner. Books were like children to me.

I had finally regained entrance to the Armory, checked in on everyone, let Gunnar give Pandora and my parents the cursory details, and then fled before the conversation could branch out to more painful subjects. They deserved more, but I didn’t have it in me yet to talk about it.

About
her
.

I fingered the ring I constantly carried in my pocket now. An idle habit. The wind buffeted my overcoat as I sat on one of the repaired benches outside the garden, staring at the bark of the alien tree towering over my home. Thinking. Reminiscing. Trying to move on. I hadn’t had time to reach out to Death, what with taking care of the dozens of werewolf pups secreted away at
Chateau Falco
during the fight. Like Gunnar had mentioned, the wolves had taken the opportunity to rescue them when all the Grimms left to fight me at dawn. They, having been suckered by Wilhelm, had been aware of the final meeting place, and had brought everyone here during the battle, secreting them away with Dean in one of the saferooms. Then the parents had come to join us in battle.

Well, to join Gunnar.

I hadn’t seen much of my friend. He had been preoccupied with watching over his new pack of werewolves, and their fledgling member.

His fiancé. Ashley. She had pulled through. Successfully surviving her first change. That was the last I had heard from my friend. An almost guilty, proud phone call that she had taken to it like a natural. I smiled, thinking about it. Working for my parents, she had spent the majority of her life around Freaks, so I wasn’t too surprised.

Tory had flown to Scandinavia with Raego and the dragons for a brief mourning period. They had taken Misha’s daughters along, in hopes that the countryside would do them some good. A place where there was less chance for collateral damage. Tory had stepped in as a surrogate mother to the dragonlings, much to Raego’s pleasure and approval.

Agent Jeffries – the supernatural lie detector and FBI Agent I had nicknamed White Lie – and my lawyer, Turner Locke, had been in constant contact with me regarding Temple Industries. They – with Othello’s help – had legally proven that my alibis held up, that I physically couldn’t have been the one to cause all the mayhem and illegal short-selling of my own company, but it was too late. Trust in Temple Industries was at an all time low, and for them to have any chance of surviving, Ashley and I had to stay out.

Temple Industries was no more. The best employees had already fled, joining the German firm. Part of me hated them for it, knowing that the Grimms had orchestrated it all, but part of me got it too. So, I was off scot-free, but not without consequences. I was, of course, being watched even closer now by the men in blue.

But I could live with that.

Money was my true concern. My mansion,
Chateau Falco
was actually owned in trust, with the funds held there sufficient to cover upkeep and maintenance in perpetuity, so I wouldn’t have to worry about utilities or selling it any time soon. Still, I had no means of making income outside Plato’s Cave, which was still undergoing renovations after a heavenly hit squad had disagreed with me a few months back.

I had lost billions of dollars, confiscated by my friends at the FBI, and it would take years and hundreds of millions of dollars, if not more, to get any of it back. So I had donated it equally to the families of those loyal employees. The ones who had stayed despite the news. St. Louis had an influx of
New Money
to contend with.

Which made me smile.

I thought of Greta, Ashley’s assistant, the religious die-hard, and what she might do with all the money now at her disposal. Probably give it to a charity. Or make a charity specifically aimed at saving my everlasting soul.
That rapscallion, Nate Temple…
I grinned. Then my eyes fell back on the tree and it died slowly but completely as if it never were.

I heard a nicker nearby and glanced over to find Grimm grazing under the tree. He had become a permanent fixture on the grounds. I wasn’t sure if it was a token of sorrow from Asterion, the Minotaur, or if Grimm sincerely wanted to be here, a shoulder for me to lean on. Or if he was drawn to his feather now resting over Indie’s corpse deep underground. We had grown close over the last year; meeting up once a week or so, weather permitting, to go on a cross-country ride through Illinois or some other near locale. Of course, somewhere we wouldn’t be seen. I had even taken Indie along once…

Grimm neighed as if in salute to my unspoken memory.

I wouldn’t have been surprised to discover he really could read my thoughts.

Two ravens swooped down to stare at me, perching on one of the nearby trees. Their eyes were entirely too intelligent for my tastes as they studied me, but I just didn’t have it in me to care too much. So I ignored their presence.

It seemed the world had been holding its breath since the Grimms visit. The Academy was silent. In fact, I had been kind of expecting an invitation or threat from them every morning, but nothing had materialized. Perhaps I had finally made my point to them. I wasn’t theirs. I wasn’t to be bullied around. I was a free agent. The last Maker in existence. I had defeated the Brothers Grimm. With friends, true, but the stories never come out that way. They always seem to fixate upon one person, as if it was mere coincidence that anyone else helped at all.

I shook my head. To be honest, I had been a failure. Without my friends, and their sacrifices, we would all be dead right now. And I had lost the only thing that mattered.

Indie.

I stood, stomping my boots a bit for warmth, and approached the tree.

I had tried carving into it with a knife, but the tip of the knife had broken. I had even tried magic, but nothing seemed able to mar its bark. Which was puzzling. Grimm watched me as I placed a hand on the bark, closing my eyes in an effort to stop the lone tear forming.

What was I without Indie? A familiar flash of rage pulsed through me, thinking of Death, and yet again coming to no conclusion as to what to do with him. He had made a silent appearance several times over the last few days, staying in the shadows to watch me anytime I left the house. My very own Grim Reaper. We pretended each other didn’t exist, and that it was a mere coincidence to run into each other here of all places. Like strangers on a sidewalk. Ships in the night.

I almost didn’t care about him anymore. I didn’t care that I had won. It didn’t matter if he had betrayed me. Sure, I might try to avenge her, if such a thing were even possible. He was a freaking Horseman of the Apocalypse, after all. Pretty sure I didn’t stand a chance, Maker or not.

The world tasted like ashes in my mouth.

My biggest fear had come true. I had warned her. She hadn’t listened.

I crouched, murmuring to the universe. “I miss you so god damned much, Indie…” I rolled the ring in my fingers, the metal seeming to freeze my fingertips with accusations.

“
Nate
…?” a voice called from the depths of my mind, a taunting whisper, as if someone was messing with my mind. But it was most likely my own guilt. I ignored it, shaking my head sadly.

The bark grew warmer under my palm and I frowned.

“Nate…” The voice was louder now, closer, more corporeal, but weakened. Why was my subconscious so freaking twisted? Did it think I wasn’t grieving enough already?

“Temple,” a new voice commanded, sounding displeased. “It’s rude to keep a lady waiting…” I jumped to my feet, whirling to find Death facing me.

He was smiling softly. His skeletal hand slowly rose to point over my shoulder. My body moved mechanically, heart hammering in my chest.

And then it stopped entirely.

Indie stood leaning against the tree, knees quivering, unable to fully support her weight. I froze, staring at her. She looked… different. A shade.

Death had brought Indie’s shade to my home. Perhaps as a peace offering. I felt anger and desire building inside me in equal measure. Anger at Death, desire to gain even one more moment with Indie.

She began to fall, and before I could think about it, I was there, catching her.

And… a physical body hit my hands. I almost dropped her as my body went into shock, not understanding. I barely managed to prevent us from both collapsing, and groaned softly as my thighs flexed, my arms quivering as they clutched Indie’s body to mine. My wounds screamed in protest, but I held her tightly.

“Nate…” her voice was barely a whisper, but gained strength with use. “I’m not that heavy… asshole.” She finally managed. Then she smiled, and my soul exploded into a million fragments. I shook with laughter, squeezing her arms, her back, her face as my breathing quickened.

And then I was kissing her. Her forehead. Her cheeks. Her hair. Her eyelids.

And finally…

Her lips.

Ohmygod
. My mouth exploded with tingles as flesh met flesh in a perfect fit. She was still weak, but gave the kiss her all, and I realized only afterwards that we were both crying.

Death cleared his throat behind us and we separated, smiling guiltily at each other. I turned to face him. He was smiling. My mind raced. “How…”

He smiled, opening his mouth to answer, but Indie beat him to it, struggling between exhausted breaths. The color was returning to her cheeks, and her eyes seemed brighter with each passing minute. I even sensed that her strength was returning as her muscles flexed now and again under my arms.

“It was a setup, Nate. Death
saw
me at
Achilles’ Heel
. He
saw
my death in the near future. But even he can’t stop Fate.” I blinked at her, following, but not following. He hadn’t said a word about any of it. Risking my hatred. My power. My fury.

My friendship.

All to save the woman I loved.