Grimm: A Novel In The Nate Temple Supernatural Thriller Series (The Temple Chronicles Book 3) (24 page)

“So, as history would have it, the supernaturals of the age typically murdered them on the spot in order to maintain their anonymity among the other villagers. Because anyone outed as having powers back then was instantly killed. To protect the masses, of course.” She added drily. The swirling fog shifted, showing us murder after murder, monsters of the night killing humans with black eyes. I shivered, trying not to imagine living in such a time where you were hated and killed for things you couldn’t control. For something you were born with. Then I realized that for some, that time was now. That sobered me up.

Barbie continued on, interrupting my thoughts. “So it was a time of
kill
or
be killed
. The Grimms suffered cataclysmic loss, but a familiar figure took heart on these poor creatures…

“Rumplestiltskin.” She paused as a figure loomed out of the fog, a twisted dwarf of a man with round lenses perched on his nose and a satchel over his shoulder. He handed the huddled Grimms something and the fog collapsed in on itself into a thick flat sheet.

“
What
?” I demanded.

“No questions until the end of the discussion, wizard.” She admonished. “Now, Rumplestiltskin, or someone very much like him, gave the Grimms an artifact that could absorb the power from a supernatural person, and allow the Grimm to wield it as their own. Then, if the Grimm was victorious the power permanently became theirs until they upgraded it to a new supernatural’s power… by kidnapping or killing yet another supernatural. Rumplestiltskin also showed them how to duplicate this artifact so that they could each have one someday.”

“The Amulets.” I exclaimed. Barbie nodded with a frown.

“So, they learned to defend themselves. Rather efficiently. Whatever flavor of supernatural they found themselves facing, they could match on even footing. A werewolf for a werewolf. Vampire for a vampire.” That got my attention. It meant that whatever assistance I had on my side in the upcoming fight, the Grimms would be able to counter.

Well,
shit
.

“No longer in fear of being exterminated so easily they sought training from experienced killers. And they each spent every moment learning these traits. Hunting, tracking, hiding, killing, escaping, and covering their tracks. Basically, espionage. They were the first super assassins. And being as how their eyes turned black upon seeing a supernatural, the opinion that this was a gift from god – the ability to see through the mists of hell to see the devils among us – took firmer root.

“Hard to blame them after a century of persecution, on the run from any supernatural they happened to stumble across. Then they learned the study of law, seeing a perfect opportunity to sit in judgment of accused supernaturals. This was when they began to apply the definition of their adopted last name, Grimm, as a personal motto.” She glanced around the room. “Grimm is German for
wrath
.”

I shivered. Holy cow. Any time someone was accused of being a witch, wizard, or demon of some kind, with these guys on the panel as a judge they could
see
the truth and condemn as they saw fit. Which I assumed was usually an execution. The fog grew harder to watch at that point as I realized my own people were now being slaughtered at an alarming rate, and the Grimms seemed to grow taller, stronger, hungrier. Others seemed to have the same disgusted reaction to the story.

“Yes. Many died. Both good and bad people with supernatural abilities. The Grimms were ruthless. Then they decided to expand their business by becoming lawmen and hunting parties, actively pursuing the people who had murdered their ancestors for so many years. So, as you can see, our ancestors created their own worst enemy.

“I’m sure you can ascertain what happened to them after that. They entered government, the military, political offices, royal courts – any position that would give them the opportunity to expunge freaks from humanity. And they were good at it, assisting many of ancient history’s most noted rulers. Every time a country went off in a ship to explore or take over new lands they typically had a secret Grimm or two in the party, willing to document, track, and kill any new creatures they may encounter.

“The American Colonies, Cortez’ mission to South America, you name it. They took their family business global. Many of us in these undiscovered countries had no idea what hit us or where the Grimms’ rage came from, but we soon found out. We were slaughtered for crimes we never committed. Until myself and hundreds of others collaborated to send them away.” She grew quiet, remembering, and I suddenly realized that she was speaking first person. She had been there. Sure, I had heard her say that once already, but still, knowing the history now brought it into a whole new light.

“It was a big plan. Many died. We fed rumors into society that a meeting of freaks was organizing to take on the Grimms and also to coordinate the hiding of an artifact that could kill all supernatural persons if taken by the Grimms. Many died from the Grimms torturous methods, many brave, brave souls. Men, women, and children. Totally harmless fairies, water spirits, woodland elves, and even a few of the more dangerous freaks, Trolls, werewolves and vampires.” She turned to me. “A
Master Temple
set up the plan. A distant ancestor of yours. It was his idea. A good one. A complicated one. And costly.” I blinked in astonishment. My father had never told me
that
.

“How come I’ve never heard of it?” I asked.

She shook her head sadly. “Being a scribe of history, I’m almost confident that you have.” She whispered. I waited, giving her a few seconds as silver tears filled her vision. “Roanoke.”

I blinked. “The city in the American Colonies? Where everyone disappeared overnight?” I exclaimed in disbelief.

She nodded. “It was the location we led them to believe housed the artifact that could end us all for good.”

I frowned. “But… that doesn’t make any sense.” Barbie smiled at me knowingly but didn’t argue as she wiped away a lone tear. “Roanoke was abandoned around 1590, but
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
was published in 1812…”

“You are correct, Temple. That’s where the story gets
interesting
.” I frowned again, but nodded, motioning for her to continue. “Now, it was around 1830 – my kind doesn’t keep track of time like you mortals do – and Roanoke was now merely a shell of a town, having been abandoned long ago. The Grimms were full of bloodlust, hungry with the potential prize at their fingertips. Jacob and Wilhelm – who were actually related by blood to the real founding Grimm, not adopted to the name like others of the group – had managed to acquire the powers of a vampire so their lifespan went considerably longer than history states, and they were much more than mere German professors and authors. They were brilliant, ruthless, military leaders of a very literal army of assassins with one purpose. To end us all.”

She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Master Temple, a
Maker
, in fact,” she added, glancing at me, “Used his powers to create a doorway through time to Roanoke during the fateful disappearance hundreds of years in the past. The strain of such a mysterious historical event had left ripples that he knew how to follow and pinpoint.”

I blinked in astonishment, ready to pelt her with questions, but she continued on. “All of us leapt through the doorway to the past with the Grimms hot on our heels. We battled. Many died. Then he threw up a second portal leading into a void of darkness. He grabbed a bloodstained, weatherworn, fictitious map that supposedly held the directions to the artifact, and ran inside, leading the army away from our world. The Grimms followed. Most of them. Several more of us had to run into the gateway to convince all of them to follow. They sacrificed themselves for all of us.

“When they were all through, we carted the bodies into the dark void to eliminate any evidence and closed the gateway per Master Temple’s instructions. Then we returned to our time. In a way, he banished the Grimms twice. Once in the folds of time, then again in the folds of the universe itself. Quite an accomplishment. He timed it perfectly so that our wholesale slaughter could be hidden in the pages of history.” The silence was deafening. Ashley and Indie had tears in their eyes and were openly staring at me, seeming to empathize with the rollercoaster of emotions running through my mind. The Grimms had more than just one reason to kill me. My very ancestor had done this to them in the first place, sacrificing his life to save the world of magic. Gunnar slowly turned to me, but my vision was slightly blurry and I didn’t acknowledge him.

“We carved the words
Roanoke
into every tree we could reach before fleeing. No one wanted to be found near the place when it was discovered by whatever authority happened to stumble upon the devastation and mystery that had housed a once thriving city on the fringes of the frontier. The event was hidden in history, a childhood mystery, the focus of many documentaries, but this is the true story. Perhaps the colony at Roanoke only disappeared
because
of what we did.” Her eyes were distant, solemn, and almost regretful. “Without Master Temple back, we will never know the truth.”

She turned to me. “Don’t let them have died in vain. The Grimms must be ended, the bridge closed, and the rest of them prevented from coming over.”

I had nothing to say to that.

It made me angry to realize that I didn’t know if I could live up to the task of continuing or finishing what my ancestor had started. It was my fault they had found a way back. I just didn’t know how to fix it.

This was well beyond me.

Chapter 25

I
sat in the corner, thinking furiously as I twirled the amulet in my fist, thinking of what needed to happen next. True, killing these asshats would give me immense satisfaction, but a small seed of empathy for their origin had also taken root. We had effectively
made
them. It didn’t excuse their wholesale slaughter of Freaks, but I could understand a family feud that stretched centuries. The supernatural community was rife with them. Even if they weren’t all
technically
Grimms by
blood
. Even adopted family feuds could be violent, and as far as they saw it, they were true Grimms, blood or not.

I realized that the term
Grimm
was more accurately a sovereign nation of people with the unique ability to see through glamour. Not a last name, per se, but a
title
. And they took their jobs
very
seriously. But Jacob and Wilhelm were the real deal. Bloodline Grimms. Still, blood mattered little in this. Not at all, in fact.

And killing the ones already here would do nothing about the rest of them still waiting on the other side of the bridge. Somehow, some way, I needed to destroy this gateway or bridge or wormhole through time itself, and I didn’t feel like visiting Roanoke to find it. To discover that my ancestor had been a Maker was astonishing. But to hear of the power he had wielded was even more inspiring. No wonder the world had crushed Makers. With power like that… I had never before heard of such a thing. I would have loved to quiz my father about it, but the Armory was locked down. And I didn’t have time anyway. It was history. Not relevant to our current situation.

Closing the gate would require abilities I didn’t quite yet understand. Which wasn’t good at all.

The sprite had just shown my friends a ‘video’ of how this had all come back into the light. From the auction a few years ago where I had tried to buy the original copy of
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
. My resulting trip to Alistair’s house where I met Gunnar responding to a report of gunshots, my first encounter of almost being raped by Barbie after a botched summoning, and my ultimate introduction with Jacob Grimm, visible only on a metaphysical level through a gateway of superblack darkness the depth of which had never been replicated by man. I tapped the book cover in my hands, annoyed by the group’s laughter at my failed summoning. She spent entirely too much time on that section of the story for my taste, so I had left to a quieter section of the room, refusing to be the butt of a joke when we had very real problems to deal with.

Out of professionalism, not embarrassment.

The discovery of their book had led me to opening Plato’s Cave. With Alistair – St. Louis primary arcane book dealer – murdered, someone had needed to fill his spot, and I had been fresh out of things to do.

And I loved books.

I had needed a place to hide the edition of
Grimm’s Fairy Tales
, which although small, was much thicker and more ancient looking than any copy you could find on a store’s bookshelf. I had also needed to hide the book of summoning spells that Alistair had owned. The book that had introduced me to Barbie in the first place. The Grimm’s had been very anxious to get their hands on it, as they could essentially summon defenseless supernaturals to their deaths. So I had locked both books away underneath my store, underneath the third projector room that was used only for special occasions and was likely to be missed in the event of the store being attacked.