The Silver Bird: Immortal Secrets Trilogy Book One (Immortals Secrets Trilogy 1)

by S J Williams

  Finally, he spoke.

  “Effie?”

  She raised both eyebrows now, not just because he knew her name but because of what the quiver in his voice had betrayed. Something that said her answer mattered to him. Deeply.

  “Yes?” It was a question but she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer. There was something about this man that raised hairs all over her body. And that made her want to run a mile. Effie and relationships didn’t mix.

  By this time the other man had reached them, his pace more leisurely than his friend’s. It was just as well because the first, the spooky maybe-Italian – though she couldn’t place his accent – seemed frozen in place by her answer-come-question.

  She turned her attention to the second man who was eyeing her with undeniable interest. He was perhaps a couple of inches shorter, with fair, sun-streaked hair and bright hazel eyes. His face was also lean and strong-boned but there was a slight ruggedness to it that said he wasn’t always dressed in elegant suits, enjoying an espresso in an Italian piazza. His eyes weren’t so tragic, so heart-stopping, either, but Effie still felt a little warning from her gut. Something that said that, if she let them, both of these men would uproot her entire world.

  “Can I help you?” She asked, feeling like she was quickly slipping out of her depth. She wasn’t used to men paying attention to her, especially not intense, handsome men.

  Fortunately, this man - whose pale colouring pointed to a northern heritage - was more loquacious.

  The man’s eyes flicked down to the brochure on the table before her.

  “I see you’re interested in the new Fra Amedeo exhibition that’s opening soon,” he said in a crisp English accent, with a glance at his friend.

  Effie pulled a face. “You could say that. My boss is the exhibition’s curator. He employed me to do the background research on the subjects in the paintings.”

  “Really? What a stroke of luck. We were hoping to meet up with one of the people involved. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions about it? My name is Henry and this is Sebastian.”

  Sebastian. She lingered over the name as she let the rest of his introduction wash over her. Sebastian. Yes, it fit. Though why it should and with what, she couldn’t say.

  Effie shook her head, forcing herself to focus on what he was saying. Roberto had been hoping for a good reception for the gallery. He wouldn’t thank her if she put these two off because she kept spacing out. “Not at all. Have a seat and I’ll do my best to give you some answers.”

  “Excellent.” Henry said, giving his friend a nudge before taking a seat. Slowly, not taking his eyes off her, his friend followed suit.

  Effie wrestled with her blush. There was something about him, something other than his obvious staring that worried her. But, and she couldn’t really explain this, not in a bad way. It was more like, with every passing minute, an opportunity was slipping past her. It made her heart speed up in her chest and butterflies burst into life in her stomach. Strange.

  “You see,” Henry began, leaning back in his chair with one elbow resting on the back. “We’re in the business of collecting and re-selling art and antiques, with a particular interest in the Italian renaissance.”

  Oh, here we go. Effie thought, her heart sinking. Like she had never heard that line before. Either they were looking to buy something or, more likely, to sell something.

  “We have a trinket, something of a rare find, which needs a value,” Henry continued, “and we believe that you would be just the one to help us.”

  Effie raised an eyebrow at that. Yep. They wanted to sell something.

  “I promise you, it is quite innocent. We simply need the perspective of an expert.” Henry assured her. Effie flushed a little, embarrassed. She must have been wearing her scepticism on her face, she thought. But she was also curious.

  It couldn’t hurt, a voice she ignored more often than not whispered to her from the back of her mind. If she didn’t like where this was going, she could always just walk away.

  Deciding to let her impulses lead her, she sat up straight in her seat. “Alright. What have you got?”

  Henry gestured for Sebastian to show her something and Sebastian was looking at his friend as if he thought Henry had temporarily taken leave of his senses. Good, Effie thought. At least she wasn’t the only one who was slightly uncomfortable with this situation.

  Henry raised his eyebrows at Sebastian, egging him on. Finally, Sebastian relented and reached hesitantly into his jacket. Effie tried not to take it personally.

  From an inside pocket, he pulled out a silver medallion on a chain. It was an ornately designed disc bordered with leaves and flowers and, etched in the middle, was a little bird shaped like a lark or a thrush. The detail was exquisite. Effie, leaning forwards to get a better look, almost expected the little bird to spread its wings and take flight.

  “That’s clever.” Effie said, her approval a deep hum in her throat.

  The little bird seemed to dance in the air as Sebastian’s hand trembled.

  She glanced up at him. His face was completely blank.

  “Is something wrong?” Effie asked, feeling unsure.

  “No, nothing’s wrong.” Henry said, smoothly stepping in for his catatonic friend. “We’re glad you like it.”

  “You said you wanted a value? I’m afraid silver work is not my speciality.” She was almost sorry to disappoint them. For once, she was actually interested in what was being offered to her.

  “Oh, we’re not looking for a material value.” Henry said airily with a quick glance at Sebastian who was still frozen where he sat. “More a personal estimation. In short, how much would you value this medallion, in terms of sentimental value, if it were given to you by a friend or lover?”

  What a strange question, Effie thought. “Surely sentimental value has less to do with the trinket and more to do with who does the giving and receiving. If I loved someone, I would value whatever they gave me, whether it had an intrinsic value or not.” One of her favourite mementos of her parents was nothing more special than a rock. They had been fossil hunting on a beach in the north of England when her father had found it. He had been so excited by his find, she smiled every time she thought about it. She still had it, sitting on the mantelpiece in her living room back in Durham. It had taken on a bittersweet value since her parents’ death a year ago.

  “Then perhaps what I should ask is how would you interpret this medallion if it was given to you as a gift by a loved one.” Henry corrected himself smoothly.

  A born charmer that one, Effie thought.

  “Are you planning to give the medallion to someone?” Effie asked, turning her attention back to Sebastian. With a sharp shudder, Sebastian unfroze himself enough to speak.

  “It belonged to a very dear friend of mine. As she is no longer with me, I find myself ambivalent towards it. I hoped to benefit from the perspective of a fresh pair of eyes.”

  Effie’s heart melted a little bit to hear the medallion had a sad story behind it. And yet it suited the little bird, locked in its silver cage that hinted at the freedom of nature and yet was always denied it.

  Feeling unable to voice these sentimental thoughts, Effie hid behind another question. “How old is it?” The craftsmanship didn’t look modern.

  “At least five hundred years though we are not sure. We did not acquire it—” he cut himself off abruptly as if confused by what he was about to say. He cleared his throat. “We did not acquire it from someone who could give us the precise details of its history.”

  “Well,” Effie turned her attention back to the bird. “I find it fascinating and I could probably stare at it all day if I let myself. If it was given to me by a friend, I would compliment them on their taste and treasure it among my most prized possessions.” She looked up at them with a bright smile. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

  There was no hesitation in Sebastian's face as he thrust it towards her and said, “Take it, it’s yours.”
<
br />   Effie recoiled, shocked. “But what about your friend?”

  “I told you, the memories are bittersweet. I would rather see it in the hands of someone who truly valued it.”

  “I’m sorry.” Effie said, feeling more embarrassed than ever. “I really can’t take it.”

  “Will you join us for a coffee instead?” Henry asked hurriedly. Effie gratefully tore her eyes away from Sebastian’s devastated face. Such torture in his eyes. She could almost see the bloody tears dripping down his cheeks.

  “Coffee?” Effie wasn’t used to strangers offering her coffee. She looked from one to the other, her gaze skipping shyly over Sebastian’s face. They didn’t look threatening and Roberto would probably give her a royal dusting if she turned down a marketing opportunity. “Of course,” she said, gesturing clumsily to the seats around her table to cover up her hesitation.

  Henry hailed a waiter immediately, as if afraid she would retract her acceptance. Sebastian was now staring at the tabletop, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. When he finally looked up, his pain was hidden behind a mask that was as inscrutable as Henry’s face was charming.

  To stop herself from getting lost in trying to decipher his expression, Effie asked. “You said you were in the business of collecting antiques?”

  “Yes,” Henry nodded with a quick glance at Sebastian. Effie looked his way, too. His eyes were fixed on something across the piazza but one eyebrow had tilted up. The corner of his mouth echoed it in a smirk though what his expression meant, she had no idea. Except, perhaps, that she would be best not taking everything they said at face value.

  “We look for certain items connected with a period in history which interests us. The time when Florence was under Savonarola’s regime, to be specific.”

  “Really?” Effie leaned forward, taking a genuine interest now. To Henry’s enquiring look, she added, “It’s very relevant to the research I’ve been doing on Fra Amedeo. He changed his whole career because of being inspired by Savonarola.”

  “Indeed.” Henry answered with a broad smile. “May I ask what interested you in this artist in particular?”

  Effie took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

  “Well, my employer has a whole collection of portraits that were done by him. I’ve no idea where they came from because there’s no record of them but I’m sure they’re genuine…” She faltered when she saw Sebastian and Henry exchange confused bordering on incredulous looks.

  “You don’t believe me.” She concluded, her heart sinking. Was everyone she met going to dismiss her research as impossible?

  Sebastian’s head whipped back round. “No, it’s not that. We would love to hear what you’ve discovered.” He said, his deep voice sending another shiver up her spine.

  Sebastian watched as the young woman spun a tale of an artist so inspired by the severe friar, he devoted himself to creating pious art. He barely heard a word of it. Her voice echoed in his mind, stirring up memories of a woman who could have been her twin.

  Cautiously, he slipped past the shields that guarded his mind from a bombardment of human emotions. The first thing he found was disappointment. There was no obvious sign that she was the Effie he’d known. But the depth of her enthusiasm, the way humour sparkled in her mind… She had a taste that rang true with the memories he held closest to his heart.

  Was it possible? Was the myth of reincarnation real? He’d heard stories, but had never dared dream it might happen. Until now. Until this woman, with her keen interest in Renaissance Florence. Was she really his Effie come back to him? He could almost believe it. She had been born in this city. It was the home of her strongest memories in another life. Why not this girl who looked, spoke and even smelled like his Effie?

  He was lost in searching for clues in her face when a brochure thrust under his nose jolted him into the present.

  “Here. The brochure has an example of the portraits that will be in the exhibit.”

  Sebastian glanced down and froze. Those faces were horribly familiar.

  “And you said these were done by Fra Amedeo? The Dominican friar?” To the untrained ear, Henry would have sounded just as casually interested as ever. Sebastian, who had turned Henry into an immortal years ago, knew better. But he didn’t need the familiarity of a long friendship and a telepathic bond to tell him that. Henry was now sitting up and paying attention like a pointer who had just caught a scent.

  “Yes. You must have heard of him. He did a portrait of Savonarola. While that’s not in the gallery, we think this collection dates from the same time.” Effie looked as keen as ever but there was a hint of wariness in her innocent words which suggested she too had picked up on the subtle change of tone in the conversation.

  Sebastian focused on one word.

  “Who is ‘we’?”

  She’d been casting glances at him throughout the conversation when she thought he wasn’t looking. She had been mistaken. He had always been looking even as he pretended to study his clasped hands. Now, she turned to face him fully, her emotions spiking as she struggled gamely with a blush that wanted to creep into her cheeks.

  “Professor Roberto Albini is the lead curator on the exhibition. So, when I say ‘we’, I basically mean me and my boss.”

  Henry and Sebastian looked at each other. Albini? Who was he? And where had he found a collection of portraits which, unless Sebastian was very much mistaken, were all of immortals?

  “Who’s funding the gallery?” Henry’s expression betrayed none of the tension Sebastian could feel squeezing their bond like a vice.

  “Roberto is footing a substantial part of the bill and the rest is being supplied by the University of Durham.” She said, looking distinctly concerned now.

  “And do you know anything about the subjects of the portraits?”

  “It’s been my job to research them.” Effie had a tiny crease between her eyebrows, as if she’d been squinting for too long into the sun. “If you want to know more about it, it’s all in the brochure.” She pushed it across the table towards them. “I just realised I need to run. Lot’s to do, you know.” She gave them a nervous smile, the frown never quite leaving her eyes.

  “Of course.” Henry said, trying to fill his voice with as much reassurance as possible. He was wasting his breath. If this was indeed Effie, she’d always been able to see right through his charm. Fear lurked in her eyes. She looked like a deer ready to bolt.

  He was losing her. Watching her slip through his fingers like so much sand. Rebellion, fierce and hot, surged up within him. Sebastian could not let that happen. Not again.

  Effie had a creeping suspicion that she was being an idiot. Here she was, a lone woman in a strange city letting herself be coaxed and flattered by two strangers. Who knew what they had planned for her? Whatever it was, she’d be stupid to hang around and find out. She let a professional mask ice over her expression and quickly got to her feet. Sebastian leapt up too, a look of panic flashing through his charm.

  “Is something wrong?” He asked quickly.

  “Sorry I—” she started then shook her head, deciding she had had enough with playing games. “I’ve just realised that I’m being played like a fool and I’d rather not hang around to reap my reward.”

  If she had imagined the panic before, there was no doubting it now. Henry got to his feet beside Sebastian, looking concerned, but he put a hand on Sebastian’s sleeve to hold him back. If anything, that made her more alarmed. Sebastian looked ready to jump on her. Time to nip this in the bud now. Quickly slinging her bag onto her shoulder, she gave them a stern look.

  “We promise you,” Henry said, still holding onto a now frozen Sebastian. “We simply wanted to enjoy the conversation of a fellow historian. We meant nothing more.”

  “Hmmm.” Effie let her scepticism show on her face. “You knew my name. How is it you knew my name and not my employer’s?”

  There was an accusation in the question neither of them were able to deny but Effie was bac
king away before they could do much more than look embarrassed. She didn’t want to be drawn in any more.

  “Thank you for the coffee. And the conversation.” She had been enjoying herself, after all. “But I don’t want—”

  “Effie, please.” Sebastian was suddenly in front of her, having moved faster than she’d thought was possible. “You reminded me of someone I used to know.” The words came out in a rush.

  “That’s nice.” She said with an awkward smile, backing away again as she managed to shrug off her shock at his sudden move. Henry stepped up beside him, one hand back on Sebastian’s sleeve for all the good it would do. As she moved further away, Henry began to draw Sebastian back. Sebastian jerked his head to look at his friend. From their expressions, she would have sworn that they were in the middle of an argument, though their lips didn’t move. If that was the case, Sebastian didn’t seem to like what his friend was saying because his expression darkened.

  It was the last thing she saw as she turned and hurried out of the piazza, trying to ignore the part of her that was screaming she was walking away from something vitally important.

  I need my head checked, she thought, and kept on walking.

  2

  Effie didn’t run but it felt like she was being pursued. She resisted the urge to look behind her but kept glancing in the reflective surfaces she passed to see if the men were following her.

  Art collectors indeed. How had they known her name? Why? Why her? Sure, she was on her own but she wasn’t the only woman to be wandering around Florence alone. She definitely wasn’t the prettiest or the richest. But, then, it wasn’t money or beauty that attracted predators. It was vulnerability. Did she project vulnerability or something?

  Effie’s lips thinned as she spotted two silhouettes walking down the street behind her. They weren’t even being subtle about it. Fumbling in her bag, she grabbed her phone and quickly found the number she wanted.