Whispers: Feathers and Fire Book 3

by Shayne Silvers

  Windsor cleared his throat, eyeing Crispin uncertainly, as if wondering why his boss hadn’t said something. He took the initiative when it was apparent Crispin wasn’t going to speak.

  “You must go nowhere near the wolves until the trial. You can be present at the trial, but as a witness only. Unless called upon. That is your only rule… and per the Conclave… your only warning.” He didn’t look pleased to state this, but he looked less pleased that Crispin had let him look like the bad guy. Fabrizio watched the exchange with a grimace. A thoughtful grimace.

  Fabrizio and Crispin both sighed, but nodded their heads.

  Roland stood, signaling an end to the conversation. Silence grew as everyone stared at him, myself included. “Constantine was murdered. My mentor…” his voice sounded strained as if dehydrated. “I came here to find the murderer, because everything I know and saw in those two girls screams innocence. They would never harm anything of mine. They might have run, but they wouldn’t harm someone I loved. Most importantly, they would have called me the moment that thought crossed their mind. They haven’t been here long enough to get involved in politics, and they held no position of power to coerce. When I arrive, I see my brothers holding a flimsy file like a shield, when it wouldn’t hold up in any court anywhere in the world. Callie and I try to assist, and we get blocked out.” The silence was a physical presence. The other Shepherds didn’t even try to argue. “I come home to a House of God. A house divided. And… it breaks my heart.” He motioned for me to stand, and I did, my legs shaking at the sorrow in his voice. He turned his back on them, motioning for me to exit the room first. He called out without turning. “I will find the real killer if it’s my last act as Shepherd. No matter how deep or high the rot goes.”

  The door clicked shut behind him and I stared at him for a long moment. Then I held up my hand for a high five. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. And miracle of all miracles, he slapped skin with me. Then he did the explodey thing with his hand. “Like that?” he asked uncertainly.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that high fives didn’t explode. Only fist bumps. Everyone knew that.

  “Exactly like that.” His smile faded as the enormity of our situation became clear. Roland had just given the Shepherds an ultimatum, politely telling them that we would kill anyone – even the Conclave – responsible for Constantine’s death.

  We walked down the hall with absolutely nothing to go on. “I’m hungry,” I said. Then I caught his eye meaningfully. “And you look like you could use a drink.”

  He nodded, hearing me loud and clear. He indicated the direction of food, and I followed, wondering just what the hell we needed to do next. Whatever it was, we needed to do it fast. Roland was stressed, looked exhausted, and we were fresh out of blood bags for him.

  I was very, very glad that Crispin hadn’t found the empty bags Roland had hidden behind the trim in our room. If he had, our problems would have ceased to exist, matching our heartbeats.

  As it was, we were still in the land of the suck. “Embrace the suck,” I murmured.

  We were all alone in the hall, and as Roland turned to me, his fangs popped out, eyes shimmering crimson for a millisecond. “Embrace the suck,” he snarled.

  I realized the motivational phrase was much more impacting coming from a vampire who sucked blood to live, and was devoid of fucks to give.

  Chapter 43

  Rather than dine on Vatican food, Roland recommended we head into the city for a light meal. And since Nate had given us a car, we didn’t have to rely on help from the Conclave. Which was good. Roland’s subtle glances at me made it abundantly clear that we needed to get clear of the city, and that we shouldn’t talk at all until we were confident we were out of sight.

  Paranoia was alive and well with Roland, and I couldn’t blame him. He had just heard firsthand that his fellow Shepherds were well-versed in the art of espionage on any visitor. Roland either doubted his fellow Shepherds when they denied spying on us, or he seriously believed that the Conclave had found a way to do it regardless of Crispin’s protests.

  Which with any other organization, probably would have been the case. The Conclave ran the Shepherds, and knew what was best for all. Or so they believed. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and with so many things spiraling out of control, it made sense that the Conclave would entertain extreme measures like spying on guests. In less than a week they had experienced the murder of their top Shepherd and a theft from the Vatican vaults.

  They would do anything to keep their world safe. Even from itself. Or, under a more cynical scope, they liked their positions of power and would do anything to keep them. Maybe Constantine had pushed them too far and had been permanently put in his place, and that’s why they were rushing to convict the werewolves. To close the investigation with a slam dunk.

  We had driven through the streets in silence, Roland silently placing a finger over his lips for me to remain silent. I studied him for a second, and then unbuckled my seatbelt with a devilish grin. Roland shot me a panicked look, shaking his head at whatever I was considering.

  “I’m so glad we got out of there, Mentor…” I said in a seductive purr, licking my lips. Then I giggled playfully and leaned in to kiss his neck. Roland tensed in horror, but the panicked look in his eyes could easily be attributed to not wanting any of his friends to see.

  If someone was spying on us – it could be audio or video, so I couldn’t just talk the talk. I had to walk the walk. And I was about to give them a show. Maybe it would lead to something. If I saw anyone studying us in disbelief at our secret romantic relationship, we would confirm our fear and know who was spying on us.

  I made a big show of kissing his neck, even nipping his skin with my teeth, making him flinch. He growled instinctively, which could also be taken multiple ways if we were being recorded.

  “Keep your eyes on the road, Shepherd.” I laughed playfully as he squirmed.

  “I’ll make you pay for this,” he growled.

  “Like you did two nights ago? Oh, I pray that you do. I’ve been a naughty girl.”

  Roland was about to die of shame, guilt, apoplexy, or… maybe he would fang out. Shit. Hadn’t considered that. As much fun as this was, I needed to hurry it along.

  I leaned in closer, nipping his neck again. Let me tell you this, even pretend flirting with Roland was weird as shit. But I had reached that level of desperation where I no longer cared about the opinion of others. When you have a basic assumption of trusting people, you subconsciously admit that they are rational people, not evil at heart, and that some part of you sort of cares what they think of you.

  But when you hear those people rationalize their abuse of basic trust – like spying on their guests – and see them constantly stab each other in the backs, you break the illusion and see that they’re really viciously flawed, evil, or animalistic vipers.

  I no longer cared about their opinions of me. That was the only thing that allowed me to sexually tease Roland as he drove a million-dollar car through the streets of Rome.

  Essentially, this wasn’t just about not caring about the Vatican. It was about dangling some juicy gossip that would eat them alive from the insides. Knowing of our romantic secret, and not being able to accuse us – because it would give up the fact that they were in fact still spying on us – would torture them. They would despise us for it, yet they couldn’t hold us accountable for such dark endeavors if they couldn’t admit to knowing about them.

  It was a giant middle finger disguised as a jeweled crucifix, and the only way for them to point it out was to admit their own… sin.

  This was a chance for payback, and Roland was just going to have to suffer through it as my stage prop.

  I inched my hand inside his shirt, grazing over his large chest. He flinched, jerking the wheel instinctively. “Callie…” he snarled in a throaty growl, correcting the vehicle. I laughed huskily and continued exploring his chest, now curious about the lack of
the scars that had disappeared after he drank Haven’s blood. I had never gotten answers to what the story was behind those scars. Who had carved him up with religious scribbles. The Conclave? Was it part of being a Shepherd?

  I’d ask him again later. Instead, I leaned back to his neck, nipped his ear sharply, and breathed into his ear light enough to not be overheard, no matter how good the spying equipment they were using was. “Do we have a tail?” He jolted, sensing the professional, no longer slutty change in my voice. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “Pull over and threaten to punish me for being such a naughty girl. Get us out of this car. Now.”

  He floored the car, and then grabbed a handful of my ass to prevent me from sliding back into my seat. I grunted in disbelief, trying to turn it into a sexy squeal.

  Or something vaguely erotic. But to be honest, I froze in shock.

  Roland swerved back and forth, dodging traffic for about a minute. Then he grunted, gripped my ass tighter, and I felt the car lurch into a spin, tires screeching. We stopped moving and he released my ass long enough to shift the car into park.

  Before I could glance out the windshield, his hand was back on my ass, his door was opening, and he was lifting me out of the car. “Time to finish what you started, girl…” he growled loudly. He set me on my feet, shot me an infuriated look and then yanked me after him up three stairs to a large pair of wooden doors. Two young men stared incredulously at us, as if stunned at our coupling. Maybe it was the age gap. Then they glanced behind us at the still idling car, slowly smiling. Roland snarled. “Park the car and open the door. Now!”

  They did, faces paling and smiles evaporating.

  We were at a hotel of some kind, and it looked pricey. Roland led me to the counter, and I remained in bimbo mode, glancing around me with wide eyes as if ecstatic that the rich older man with me was taking me somewhere so extravagant.

  Because everyone around us needed to see what we wanted them to see.

  If Crispin had been asked to verify Nate’s flight plans – even calling on hotels halfway across the world – they would definitely track down a hotel in their own city.

  “Room. Cash. Now,” Roland growled at the woman behind the counter.

  “Of course, sir. We have several different rooms—”

  “A big one. Now. Less talking and more typing. I give big tips,” he said, slapping a wad of cash on the counter.

  “He sure does,” I said, leaning in to wink at her suggestively. Roland let out a groan, but it could have come across to others as a hungry growl.

  I turned to stare up at the lights and stonework of the lobby as I heard the woman’s fingers desperately clicking on her keyboard. Within moments, Roland had a card in hand and was guiding me to an elevator. I saw a gift shop with swimsuits for sale and jerked my hand free from Roland, rushing back up to the counter.

  “Do you have a pool?” I asked her excitedly.

  Her eyes smoldered with judgment, but her face was all corporate smile. “Yes, and a hot tub. Down that hall,” she said, indicating a glass door with an electric keypad beside it.

  She flinched as a shadow fell over her face, and I turned to see Roland behind me. “We’ll take two sets of swimsuits,” he said, slapping down too much money. “Take care of payment for us. We’ll just grab our size.” He began to turn away and then hesitated, glancing back at her. “We don’t wish to be disturbed. Unless a priest demands access,” he added with a lopsided grin.

  I let my cheeks flush as I nodded at her, but inside I was dying with laughter at her shocked expression. She had no idea. Roland guided me towards the rack of suits. I picked one hurriedly, not caring what size or color it was. All I cared about was the water. Roland snatched up a random pair of shorts without looking and caught up with me as I was opening the door with the keycard he had slipped me while telling the woman about the priest.

  I skipped through the halls in the natural gait of a bimbo – the massive vacuum of air in my head giving me the ability to almost float between steps. I opened a side door marked pool and slipped inside, letting it close before Roland could follow me.

  I ducked around a corner as he stormed into the pool area, eyes smoldering as he searched for me. He spun at the last second but was too late as I tackled him into the pool, our new swimsuits falling to the dry concrete above as we struck the surprisingly warm water.

  Roland dipped his head under my ass, gripped my thighs, and before I understood what he was doing he exploded out of the water, using his legs and his grip on my thighs to catapult me into the air. I squealed in surprise, but it quickly turned to delight as laughter burst from my lips, ten feet above the water. I tucked my legs, trying to splash him with my cannonball as I landed.

  I succeeded, and when I emerged from the pool, I saw Roland laughing and shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. If he hadn’t had water streaming down his face, I would have said he was crying with laughter. But since I couldn’t tell, I just shrugged, smiling at him.

  He looked as if ten years had been given back to him, and he was still smiling as I glided up beside him, resting my head on his shoulders. “Think we’re safe?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Yes. The water would have fried anything they put on us. Maybe not permanently, but we’d be safe until they dried out. The car is still a big question mark, though.” His lips tightened as if remembering what I had done in the car. “That was quick thinking, Callie. But… did you have to be… so persuasive?”

  “It was as much for you as it was for them,” I said, grinning at his discomfort. I sighed, leading him from the pool. “Look, things are going to be changing very fast for you soon. Being… what you are is the exact opposite of what you were. You’re going to have to get used to not smiting first and asking questions later.” He frowned at that, but finally nodded. “If you don’t at least try to fit in, the vampires will gang up on you and take you out. Many will already have reason to hate you, judging from how many of their kind you’ve killed over the years. You’re going to have to learn how to blend in. I wanted to see how you reacted when surprised.”

  He shot an amused look at me. “I think you forget that I wasn’t always a Shepherd, Callie. I’m sure I’ll be able to catch on quickly,” he added, rolling his eyes. “Even though it may be distasteful, you have a point.”

  He squeezed out his clothes and I did the same. Then he tossed our dry swimsuits in the trash and led me out the back door of the hotel. “We don’t have much time, and we have a lot to discuss. I didn’t think we would have to walk this far, but it will help dry off our clothes faster.”

  I nodded, bracing for the cold outside.

  Chapter 44

  It was night time, and although typically cold, an unseasonal warm front had rolled in. It was still chillier than I would have preferred, but better than it could have been. We received many odd looks as we walked down the street, soaked from head to toe.

  “You’re sure they didn’t use magic to track us? To spy on us?” I asked Roland again.

  He shook his head. “I would sense it. And if they had, they never would have let us out of their sights. They would have realized we were a vampire and a Nephilim Angel Seductress,” he said, smirking at me.

  I glared back for good measure, but he had a point. With all the chaos, I had pushed that thought down several times already. The fact that my powers could have made a big impression on the Conclave – whether for good or bad, I didn’t know. They could either see me as a pocket Angel to use as they pleased, or accuse me of blasphemy. After all, if they were on good terms with Angels, the Nephilim wouldn’t be running around in secret. They would all be teaming up with the Conclave, or more accurately, the Conclave would be allowed to team up with them.

  Either way, I could be considered a bargaining chip. And that didn’t sit well with me.

  As we walked, I noticed there were many fine restaurants open for service in Rome.

  Naturally, Roland took me to a dirty food truck. “Hur
ry. Consider this payback for acting like a floozy in the car.”

  “Floozy?” I shouted in disbelief. “No one says that anymore!”

  “Painted woman, hussy, lady of the evening, strumpet…” he said, grinning. “Any of those still in use?”

  An old woman within hearing distance snarled at him and hefted her purse threateningly.

  He paled. “That wasn’t what it sounded like,” he pleaded with her.

  I allowed my voice to shake and my shoulders to sag. “I-I’ve never seen this man…”

  The woman’s nostrils flared as she stormed after him. He swore, turned, and ran across the street. I shot a thankful look at the woman and bought her a soda as I picked up a meat pie. Then I casually made my way across the street, searching for the angry vamp.

  I saw him lurking under an awning, eyes alert for the older woman that had chased him. Satisfied he was safe, he finally unfolded from the shadows and walked up beside me. “Tramp.”

  I grinned. “That one’s still in use!”

  He grunted proudly, but was sure to shove me with his elbow right when I tried to take a bite. I let him get away with it. We remained vigilant, knowing that if the Conclave had placed a bug on our car, they would find it parked at a nice hotel, and any further inquiry would let them hear of the flamboyant romantic dalliance we had displayed in the lobby. And that we were likely holed up in our room doing the Devil’s Kumbaya and only a priest was allowed to disturb us.

  I actually repeated that thought out loud so I could enjoy Roland’s laughter.

  There was always the chance we had been tailed and just hadn’t noticed it.

  Or we were both blowing this way out of proportion. Then again, they had admitted to spying on everyone else, so it wasn’t much of a stretch. Perhaps admitting those things was intended to lure us into a false sense of confidence.