Whispers: Feathers and Fire Book 3

by Shayne Silvers

  Nate waved a hand as he took a sip of his wine. “Meetings. Boring, but necessary.” He set his glass down and leaned in closer to me. “You sure you don’t need any help here? You made it sound pretty serious.” We hadn’t talked about me, because I knew if I mentioned anything he would find a reason to stick around. I had doggedly kept the discussion focused on him.

  But because it was Nate, the word hearing had been enough to keep him on the scent. I debated, swirling my glass. Not because I was considering asking him for help, but because he was right. It was serious. “We’ve got it. Kind of an in-house problem.”

  He nodded, leaning back in his chair as he mimed dusting off his hands. “My part is finished. If you do end up needing me, you know I’ll be there.”

  I nodded, smiling at him. “Thanks, Nate.”

  Roland led Alucard back to the table, having to guide him back with a supporting hand. Alucard looked like he had been punched repeatedly in the groin. I could tell from the look on his face that he didn’t intend to blab, but Nate cleared up the situation very easily.

  “None of my business, Roland. I won’t pry. But like I told Callie, I’m here if you need me.” Then he lifted his glass in cheers. Alucard looked as if a huge weight had just been lifted from his shoulders, realizing he wouldn’t have to lie to his friend. Roland studied Nate for a moment, as if debating to spill the truth.

  He lifted his glass instead. “Thank you,” the Shepherd-pire said.

  Nate shrugged it off, hefting his glass higher. “To the Vatican,” he smiled. “May she survive the wrath of Missouri.” Roland’s eyes twinkled in amusement, which was rare for him.

  We finished off our drinks and stood from the table. We walked outside to find a sleek SUV idling beside Nate’s car. A logo on the side showed a plane taking off. The passenger window lowered to reveal a man in a suit, waving at Nate.

  I frowned, but caught the keys Nate tossed my way as he climbed into the SUV. “He works for the private airport. I texted him earlier to give us a ride,” he admitted with an easy shrug. “I’ll call the rental company and have them pick your car up in…” he studied me thoughtfully, “a few days?” he asked.

  I grinned, nodding. “This means a lot to Roland.”

  Alucard burst out laughing as Roland scowled. “Callie doesn’t have an international driver’s license,” Roland blurted, darting towards the driver’s side and shoving me out of the way. Nate sighed, shooting me a compassionate look. He waved his goodbyes and I turned to glare at Roland, even though he wasn’t looking as he climbed into the seat. I took a step and—

  “I hate to see you leave,” Nate shouted out, making me spin. “But I love to see you walk away!” The SUV pulled out, the engine revving. I heard Alucard burst out laughing before their windows rolled up. I glared at the fleeing car, fighting the smirk that threatened to break free.

  Roland was busy fidgeting with the seat adjustments, ignoring my disappointment. He cheered as he finally got adjusted properly and hit the Start button. Since I was close enough, the car purred to life with a throaty rumble. He held out a hand, grinning triumphantly. I threw the keys at him and stormed over to the passenger front door. Then I had another thought.

  I climbed into the back instead. “Take me to the Vatican, Driver,” I said pompously, turning to stare out the window as if he was beneath me.

  He grumbled unhappily. “Nate is rubbing off on you.”

  I glanced at the peasant, sniffing in distaste. “There goes your tip.”

  Roland responded by pressing down hard on the pedal, and as we tore through the streets, I was soon grinning from ear-to-ear.

  It seemed money could buy happiness.

  “We have work to do, Callie, and I may need you to be the objective one. I grew up with these people, and the victim was my mentor. I’ll have trouble not taking this personally.” He rubbed his amulet between a thumb and finger. “Especially with my new appetite…”

  I nodded. “We don’t know who we can trust. Someone is behind it, and to get the jump on such an experienced Shepherd,” I met his eyes, “it’s got to be someone who knows the organization well. Someone close… Someone very dangerous. We need to be careful with our questions.”

  He nodded, his lips curling back at the betrayal.

  “You didn’t tell me the Conclave was blind,” I complained.

  He glanced at me. “I thought that was apparent from their sloppy investigation.” I blinked. Was that… a joke? He didn’t give me time to applaud. “They aren’t as blind as you think…”

  And with that cryptic comment, I shivered. His fangs glistened in the rearview mirror, and I wondered if we were making a terrible mistake.

  Chapter 30

  We sat at a table in a private room of the Holy Shed. I had been informed that it was officially named after their pretend Ministry of Outreach, but that the Shepherds simply called it the Conclave. I told them I liked Holy Shed better, but was outvoted. Fabrizio agreed with me.

  The room was plain, but the furniture was of good quality. And without seven blind wizards angrily staring in my general direction, I felt infinitely more relaxed.

  The Holy Trinity, as I had dubbed them – Crispin, Fabrizio, and Windsor – had been alerted the moment we returned and had walked us back to the Holy Shed to discuss Nate’s donation. They had changed into a uniform of sorts, almost like black military fatigues with a small white cross on each shoulder. I’d never seen Roland wear anything like it. I eyed our bags discreetly, sitting near Roland’s feet. We needed to get them somewhere safe. Even though the blood bags were spelled from detection, it would raise questions we didn’t want to answer if anyone saw Roland carrying around IV bags. Good thing they were hidden.

  But it still made me nervous. I was mildly annoyed we hadn’t been offered rooms yet.

  We needed to start digging for information, but we had to be careful about it. It would be strange if we didn’t ask about the murder, but it would attract unwanted attention if we seemed too interested in the murder. It was a fine line, and before that we needed to earn a little trust. Camaraderie. Get a feel for everyone here. Check schedules, alibis, friends, and anything else that might lead to a lie.

  Because there had to be a pile of lies to keep the truth of a murder so secret. And as much as I wished it were different, I couldn’t just show them the video of the murder – the proof that it wasn’t the two werewolves – because that would lead them to learn about Haven, and subsequently, that Roland was now a vampire. We might also end up showing it to the wrong person. The killer. Who had taken the time to destroy the surveillance equipment and murder the store owner in a freak car accident.

  If we showed anyone that video without sharing where we had gotten it, Roland had been adamant that we would be tossed in a jail cell until we revealed our source. Because the Conclave were supposedly rigid in verifying every single detail.

  They had done a real bang-up job verifying details so far.

  Revealing the video could also alert the killer into running, where he might prepare to strike again from an unknown location. Perhaps on a bigger scale. We needed to catch him and gauge the level of corruption within the Vatican’s walls. Make sure he was working alone. That he hadn’t been sanctioned by the Conclave itself.

  To this effect, Roland had casually asked after security, wondering if the Vatican had undergone any upgrades like the magic Flares they could track in the city. Windsor had been all too eager to share, rattling off a bunch of comments about wards around certain areas, but nothing overly alarming.

  It was a relief to learn that they didn’t have any wards against certain flavors of supernatural, like vampires, because they often held meetings with various supernatural dignitaries, and it wouldn’t be productive to incinerate guests during a talk. Roland was safe from that, at least.

  They also informed us that the Shepherds in town had been temporarily assigned to various parts of the Vatican. Crispin, Fabrizio, and Windsor – being the perm
anent locals – managed the area around the Conclave building. With the recent murder, they were taking no chances, so even though it was overkill, they shared the task of guarding this area. Four other Shepherds visiting for the trial were patrolling other sections of the Vatican. We hadn’t seen them because we hadn’t left this area yet.

  I had already coaxed the three Shepherds into sharing stories of their youth, about the trouble the four of them had gotten into as students, or on their first hunts. Even Roland had seemed to relax into a state I wasn’t familiar with – he was easygoing and nostalgic.

  It was time to shift gears. “What do you think the Shepherds should use Temple’s donation on, Crispin?” I asked.

  He leaned back in his chair, studying Roland and me. Then, with a smirk, he pointed a finger at Roland. “What about some fancy bling like Roland? Or did his lady love buy it for him?” he said, teasing me. Fabrizio grinned, leaning forward.

  I bit back my immediate response, and then reconsidered. It just might help. Either that, or Roland was going to kill me. Worth a shot. “You might be used to older men hooking up with younger disciples around here, but it’s frowned upon in Kansas City,” I said.

  Crispin groaned and Fabrizio burst out laughing. Windsor looked anxious, as if unsure whether he should laugh or remain professional. Crispin finally sighed, shooting a desperate look at Roland, who merely sighed. “I’ve tried and tried. There is no domesticating her.”

  “Damned right, there’s not,” I said hotly, sending Fabrizio into another fit of laughter.

  “She has to be Italian,” he wheezed between breaths, slapping Windsor’s arm, who was struggling to remain neutral, hiding his smile from Crispin. “It’s the only explanation.”

  Crispin finally turned back to me. “Just be careful how free you are with your tongue around some of the others. They’re not as… open-minded, believe it or not,” he said sarcastically, smiling enough for me to see that he hadn’t taken offense. I could sense him struggling under his new duties – wanting to be the hardcore, straight-faced leader while having fun with his old pals.

  “Back to my bling,” Roland muttered, unsnapping the clasp on the chain and taking a risk. I held my breath, hoping this was worth it. They needed to see the amulet as nothing special. And although wizards couldn’t sense vampires, there was still the risk that this could go horribly wrong. At least we knew there were no spells preventing vampires from this building.

  Roland tossed the amulet to Crispin who caught it easily before inspecting it. I held my breath, waiting for the world to end – for Roland to vamp out and kill everyone. But nothing happened. As I stared at it, I realized I could sense it in a way. Like turning an ear towards an electric fence. The sensation faded as I turned my ears slightly away. I remembered a similar sensation when Haven had given it to Roland. A faint… vibration to the air. An almost unnoticeable hum of power. And it was definitely the amulet, not anyone in the room. No one else seemed to notice it. I wondered if it had something to do with my silver magic – or the Whispers. But they were silent.

  The important thing was that no one else noticed anything.

  The coin itself wasn’t inherently special – it had been spelled after the fact, not made with magic. Just a Greek drachma with Athena on one side and an owl on the other – although it was gold rather than silver, which was unique.

  Crispin grunted dismissively. “Not my style,” he said, preparing to toss it back to Roland.

  Fabrizio leaned forward eagerly. “Let me see it. We Italians value our bling.”

  I smiled. Fabrizio was growing on me. He was the prankster of the group. Still hard and determined, but like the fun-loving Uncle. The guy not afraid to laugh as he got his hands dirty.

  Windsor reminded me of middle-management – attempting to straddle the line between authority and a fun coworker. He frequently studied Crispin and Fabrizio out of the corner of his eyes, as if watching his role models to find his place in life. The weird part about that was that they were all pretty much equals. Well, they had started around the same time.

  Crispin was obviously in charge as First Shepherd, and was more reserved and serious than the others, but to be honest, he made Roland look like a grouchy old man. Crispin desired to deserve the respect of his new title. He looked like he could be a harsh taskmaster, but also knew how to unwind when necessary.

  In order of their fun factor, it was Fabrizio, Crispin, and then Windsor.

  Crispin tossed the amulet to Fabrizio, and I began to grow uneasy. Roland needed to put the damned thing back on. Show and Tell was over, before something went wr—

  Fabrizio caught the amulet, and it zapped him clear out of his chair.

  To be fair, the amount of power discharged by the amulet hadn’t actually zapped Fabrizio out of his chair – the surprise of being zapped at all made him jump back and trip over his own chair, like a horse slapped on the flank. “What in tarnation!” Fabrizio shouted, scrambling to his feet and glaring at the amulet, which was now resting on the table, totally inert.

  Chapter 31

  Roland burst out laughing, slapping the table as he roared. I grinned, playing along with him, hoping my face wasn’t sweating with anxiety.

  Fabrizio shot a look at Crispin, who looked very concerned.

  Roland waved a hand. “It bites sometimes. Did I forget to mention that?”

  Crispin frowned at him. “Why didn’t it bite me?” Roland shrugged, still laughing.

  “Is no one going to comment on the fact that Buddha just said tarnation?” I asked in disbelief.

  Fabrizio shot me a warning look and placed a finger over his lips. The adults are talking, sweetie, the motion said. I rolled my eyes. He smirked, and something in the brown depths of his eyes twinkled in amusement. He liked my sass. Good to know. I would use that against him.

  Roland masked his concern with humor. I saw that he realized his plan to make them dismiss his amulet as nothing special was about to backfire.

  It had worked about as well as a plan to use unsupervised candles for illumination in a pillow factory. I wondered why it had zapped Fabrizio and not Crispin. What did that mean? Did it mean Fabrizio had something to hide? Or did it mean that Crispin did? These same thoughts were going through everyone’s head.

  “Where did you get it?” Fabrizio asked, sucking his fingers as he plopped back into his chair.

  Roland shrugged easily, scooping it back up without an ounce of concern in his eyes. “Some fanger. He didn’t need it anymore.” Roland’s face clouded over and he let out a sigh after a few seconds. “I almost punched my ticket that day, so now I wear it as a reminder to be vigilant,” he said softly. The others nodded solemnly, knowing all too well the dangers in their line of work.

  I glanced over to see that Windsor was very quiet. Since he seemed to be so introspective, he was likely still bothered by the fact that it had only zapped Fabrizio and not Crispin. It made me nervous as well. Was that a sign that we needed to be careful around one of them? Which one? Or maybe Windsor knew exactly what it meant.

  Part of me wanted to stand and give Roland a round of applause for his quick thinking. He had played it off effortlessly – at least in their eyes. Was that the vampire part of him shining through? Seducing a victim into seeing him as a trusted friend? If so, maybe this vampire thing wouldn’t be so bad. It might make the old man more tolerable.

  If we weren’t discovered and jailed, or killed before we found the murderer.

  “Well, keep your trophies to yourself from now on,” Fabrizio chuckled.

  Crispin cleared his throat, literally tapping the edge of the check from Nate onto the table with a steady sound. Roland had handed it over to him without a word earlier. “I think we should put it into the armory fund,” he said, changing the topic with one last furtive look at Roland’s amulet. “Weapons always need replacing. And I know a few of the Shepherds could use raises.” Fabrizio and Windsor perked up at that. “But not in Rome. We live in a palace compar
ed to the others.” He glanced at Roland, ignoring their grumbled protests. “What about Kansas City? Need anything there, or are you good? We have you to thank for this in the first place, after all.”

  Roland waved a hand after thinking for a few minutes. “Some precious metal for an updating of our protective circles in the prison, but our weapons are fine. Maybe a few new punching bags…” he rattled off a few more things, and I found myself nodding in agreement. Then I considered the fact that Roland wouldn’t be a Shepherd in a few days, and I had to force myself not to cry. It was just so unfair.

  I did notice that Roland hadn’t listed any vampire hunting weapons, which was enough to curb my sadness.

  The men discussed back and forth about several Shepherds across the globe, and who had deserved special commendation. I found myself growing sleepy, bored at the mundane operational side of the business, but it was nice to see Crispin letting the men offer input.

  He would do well as First Shepherd.

  I had heard Crispin quietly complaining to Roland on the way here. He didn’t like the promotion, and hated being relegated behind a desk most days. He had sounded sincere, and judging by the overly-analytical tick to his eyes now, I could see the truth of that in action. He doubted himself, second-guessing every decision. Otherwise I would have suspected him of killing Roland’s old mentor – the previous First Shepherd – to get the job.

  I wasn’t ruling anyone out yet, but his frustration seemed genuine. He would rather switch places with Fabrizio, but I sensed that Fabrizio would hate the responsibility even more. Maybe Windsor would like it since he was so introspective. I sighed at the problem before us, wondering how we were supposed to find a killer in the middle of this mess.

  Because according to them, they already had the killers in custody, and no one was allowed to talk to them.

  Crispin glanced down as his phone chirped. He read the screen and then sighed, looking annoyed. “Duty calls,” he said, climbing to his feet.