Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 1

by Shayne Silvers

  I almost missed my cue, but at the last moment, I recognized the warning sound and moved, lunging back out into open air right as a trio of spears erupted into the space I had just been crouching, the wooden bar having dropped away a heartbeat after I leapt. I was back in the void, blocking out all fear. I could do this easier when I was only training. It was those other times when my focus failed.

  When it mattered.

  My fingers latched onto crevices carved into a third pillar, easily twenty yards from where I had begun this race. My body struck the rock, the pain acknowledged as if it had been someone else’s body. But I didn’t wait. I instantly began scrabbling laterally and down, avoiding stone projectiles that abruptly pelted the stone I was climbing down, following me in hot pursuit as I clambered down the pillar. My feet touched the ground and I rolled backwards on instinct as I felt the ground vibrate, feeling my now-calm face scowl in distant surprise.

  Fire erupted from the grate where I had been standing, only for a moment, but I realized I suddenly had more to worry about than the once familiar grates erupting with never before seen fire. Because I was still standing on a large section of grate that had never been here before.

  He had changed the room.

  The grinding of stone was my only warning.

  I turned and sprinted as fast as I could. Wooden spikes exploded from the floor in a rolling wave that chased me until I dove onto plain stone and off the new grated flooring.

  Unless he had changed other things, too…

  I paused, waiting, eyes darting about. Then twin sticks coalesced in my fists, crackling with energy as I heard familiar territorial growls behind me. I spun to face my opponents, ignoring their grotesquely monstrous grins.

  Gargoyles.

  They resembled winged goblins, none of those feline-looking beasts this time.

  But they each wielded stone spears — points condensing to a microscopic tip. Not practice spears this time. Another surprise. They would draw blood if I wasn’t fast enough. I smiled back at them, or, at least I felt my face smile.

  The gargoyles attacked in concert. One dove for my face, wings spread wide, while another ran at me so as to approach from an opposite angle than the flying one. The third, center gargoyle stayed in place, brandishing daggers in each thick, three-fingered set of claws.

  I dropped to my knees, flicking one of my sticks high to stab the flying gargoyle in the stomach, and the other stick flung out to my side, blocking a spear thrust. I realized my weapons were no longer escrimas, but three-foot-long spears that tore through the gargoyles like paper, leaving piles of gravel and dust where the gargoyles had once been. On instinct, I flung up my hand ahead of me, discarding the spear that had stabbed the airborne gargoyle as I remembered the third attacker. I began the first step to cast a shield of light, but was surprised when a shadow bloomed into existence before my palm before it should have, revealing a black fan of power that seemed to suck light from around me. The fan resembled the one I usually trained with when practicing wrist dexterity.

  Stone daggers hammered into the delicate looking fan and disintegrated to nothing as black crackles of power rolled over the projectiles, seeming to eat the organic blades. The gargoyle stared in surprise. I almost did as well, but training and instinct took over. I flung the fan with a thought, this time actually using my magic. It flew from my wrist, sailing straight through the gargoyle’s neck as smoothly as a scalpel in a surgeon’s hands.

  The fan was suddenly back before my palm, and I stared down at it as the gargoyle crumbled to gravel in my peripheral vision. It seemed to be made of feathers. Inky black feathers, the opposite of the pure white feather I imagined when clearing my head during meditation.

  But I hadn’t consciously chosen to make it. I heard the familiar sounds of the training room grinding down to rest, and let out a breath. Those fears of mine had almost gotten me hurt. And that hadn’t happened during training for a very long—

  Soft clapping came from a small set of speakers off to the side of the room. A stone-colored mesh partition rolled up from the wall — camouflaged to look like the rest of the wall — and disappeared into the ceiling, revealing a digital screen. Roland watched me from his bed back at my apartment. “Well done, Callie. Well done. Looks like you found your shield…” he was grinning. “And to think that I used to tease you about your propensity for pretty things. Fans,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  A faint smile tugged at my lips, remembering all too well his comments on my love for the fan, but I didn’t answer his question about where it had come from, because I didn’t know how to do so. “Like you told me about the changes to the room?”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “What would be the fun — or gain — in that? You’re here to learn, not to memorize rehearsed movements. You’ve already memorized the ones we have, so I changed them.” He shrugged as if answering why rain was wet.

  I nodded slowly, but still wasn’t happy about it. “I was just trying to let off some steam. Clear my head. What if I hadn’t been paying attention?” I almost wished I could take it back as soon as it left my lips.

  He just looked at me. Darkly, if that was possible.

  I muttered under my breath. Where was the damned remote to turn off the video feed? Then I remembered Father David. My eyes shot to the screen, suddenly nervous. He noticed, and gave me a sad nod. “I received word already. I called some policemen to watch over him. Not Shepherds, but better than nothing. They owed me a favor.” He smiled sadly at me. “It changes nothing, Callie. If anything, it only convinces me we are doing the right thing. We will talk this afternoon. Claire is threatening to force-feed me baby food if I don’t eat her soup,” he muttered, and then hung up as I heard Claire shouting at him in the background.

  He didn’t give me time to warn him about the Demon I had run into. “Goddamn—”

  “Naughty, naughty warrior nun,” a different voice said from across the room.

  I whirled, unleashing one of my sticks like a throwing spear, the black fan blooming into existence before my palm again, seeming to rattle forebodingly.

  Chapter 22

  Nate Temple casually leaned to the side in a lazy dodge, arms still folded across his chest. My spear flew past his shoulder, but I called it back before it could hit the wall behind him.

  I didn’t release the fan, though, staring at him in disbelief.

  “How did you—”

  “I know a guy who has a…” he seemed to be searching for his answer, still grinning, “professional relationship with your Father David.” His face grew somber in a flash. “Callie, I need to tell you something—”

  “It was you,” I whispered.

  He blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

  “You were at the hospital. Or your friend.”

  He frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  I studied him in silence, confused myself. Because I could tell he had no idea what I was talking about. “Father David was attacked. He’s in the hospital, and he had a visitor before I arrived. The man prayed and left.”

  Nate looked very concerned. “Dammit. I’m sorry, Callie. I’ve never met Father David.” Before I could press him, he held up a hand. “And my friend is an old man,” he added. “Really, really old.” He waited until I finally nodded. “Is he okay?”

  I let out a breath. I believed him. But that didn’t make me feel any better. I answered his question with another nod. Sensing I didn’t want to talk, because I was now wiping my eyes against the stupid tears clouding my vision, he began studying the room around me, giving me space. The fan continued to hover before me as I cleaned up my face. A few moments later, he cleared his throat. “I need to tell you something.” I turned, waiting. “The wolf from the auction was found dead. He was stabbed to death by a jagged piece of wood.” I gasped. That… ruined everything. Our plans… “He was last seen meeting with the vampires. To sell them something.” He met my eyes meaningfu
lly.

  I thought out loud. “Why would a wolf sell to the vampires?”

  Nate shrugged. “I’ll do some digging. But something stinks about all this.”

  I nodded, suddenly angry. My lead was dead, but at least we knew who he had sold his piece to. Then another thought hit me. I looked up at Nate. “Then we need to go after the vampires.” He nodded in agreement. “How do you know this?”

  He pointed to his ears. “I listen. To the streets. You should never rely on only one source of information. I like to be thorough.” I found myself nodding without thinking. That was good advice. Relying on only one source of information had started this whole mess. The Vatican had given Roland faulty information, which ultimately led to his injury, and me tossed in the deep end of the pool without a life jacket. Nate was studying the room again, nodding to himself before speaking.

  “You were very—”

  “Good, I know.”

  His eyes seemed to gather the light of the room, twinkling with amusement. “I was going to say precise.”

  I met his smile with my own, but was distantly upset that he had been spying on me and that I hadn’t noticed. A small part of me seemed to catch his mood, against my will. He was being playful. Maybe he always wears that faint grin, I thought to myself, watching as he began to approach, studying the fan floating before me.

  He moved like smoke. I don’t mean to say he moved fast, or was creeping around like a ninja or anything, he just walked. But the way he walked reminded me of smoke, unconsciously stepping around gravel without glancing down, not disturbing a single element of my training room. Of course, the Sisters would be down here later to clean up. At least, I think it was them who cleaned up. In the beginning of my training so many years ago, that task had fallen to me. But as my training progressed, I had less time for cleaning, what with school and my increased training regimen.

  I realized he was almost immediately in front of me, now, staring down at my fan curiously, smoothly stepping in a circle to inspect all sides, as if he had completely forgotten the sweaty girl in yoga pants and a sports bra. My shirt was on the bench.

  My face reddened further as that thought registered. Not my attire, but the fact that I had been annoyed he was more interested in my fan than me.

  In a blink, I made the fan vanish. He sighed, tapping his lips as he finally met my gaze. “Where did you learn that?”

  “The Lord provides,” I muttered, turning my back on him. I still hadn’t made my decision about Nate, and I had wanted peace and quiet to think, not the subject of my thoughts to come pester me.

  “Right. The Lord.”

  “Do you not believe?” I asked in my most pious tone.

  That caught him up short. He studied me, now, no longer smiling. “That’s above my pay grade,” he finally said, but I sensed an ocean of conversation buried under the short response. Not as if he was purposely evading my question out of rudeness, or even cynicism, but as if that was a conversation he would have with someone he knew a lot better than he knew me. Maybe something he was still chewing over.

  Which brought me up short.

  Roland had trained me for years, and I had seen many supernaturals, or Freaks, as we were lovingly called, over the years. The dangerous ones, from a distance as he hunted them. But a few years ago, Roland had slowly begun to introduce me to… friendly Freaks. Those he trusted. Not his friends, but friendly to him. To the church.

  Granted, my training had been biased, working for a church, but the whole religion thing seemed pretty cut and dried to me, even though it made me uncomfortable. I saw it much the same as vampires. Yes, I knew they were real, but that didn’t mean I wanted to go be friends with them, or begin worshipping them. It was more of a respectful acknowledgment.

  And I had thought that most held the same view.

  But Nate had seemed stunned to hear that there even was a church that fought the bad guys, and he seemed very in tune with the supernatural community, judging by his reactions at the auction, and Roland’s reaction to Nate himself.

  He was supposedly well-known in the magical community. The damned shifter bear had even known of him. As had the vampire. And the Demon had fled rather than battle him. I hadn’t ever seen a Demonic creature run from Roland, and he worked for the church.

  So, who was this wizard, obviously well-off, obviously strong, obviously well-known by both the good and bad guys, but who didn’t know about the Vatican Shepherds? It made no sense.

  He was watching me as if trying to read my thoughts.

  “Okay, I’ll help you,” he said. “On one condition.”

  My gaze tightened. “I didn’t ask for a favor,” I managed not to actually growl as I said it, but I was angry at his tone, as if he had offered to do me a big favor. I took a breath, counting to three in my head. “I have no standing to negotiate. Work that out with Roland.”

  “I don’t think you want to bring him into this negotiation.”

  I blinked. “Why the hell wouldn’t I want to tell my boss about you trying to haggle with me?”

  He looked on the verge of laughter. “If we get the Cruci-sticks, you owe me dinner. If we don’t…” he shrugged. “I doubt dinner would matter. Oh, and my book.”

  I just stared at him. “Are you really hitting on me less than twelve hours after we met? After stalking me to my home and then stalking me here to the church? Bribing or extorting your way in through the doors to make it down here to a level only a handful of people know about?”

  “One—million—dollars,” he said softly. I wanted to growl at him. He was obviously good for it, but I knew he wasn’t ever going to let me live it down. “I think a pleasant dinner is a fair trade. And you get your Cruci-sticks. Everything you wanted. For the price of an innocent dinner.”

  “You shouldn’t call them that,” I said, referring to his nickname for the spear. “Smiting is a hobby of his.” I turned my back on him, heading to the bench where my water bottle and towel were. I quickly wiped my face and took a big drink, trying to calm myself. I had hoped he would be different, even though I had no reason to think so. I hardly knew him.

  “Hey, you’re a church girl,” he said to my back, sounding suddenly curious. “Do you know the different ways to use smite in a sentence? It’s always bothered me, and… my friend was asking about it once,” he added, lamely.

  I glanced over my shoulder, and then shook my head as I resumed wiping away my sweat. I heard him sigh behind me, but he didn’t follow me to the bench.

  After the Demon encounter and Father David’s attack, it was becoming blatantly obvious that I needed Nate’s help. And he had made the dinner sound innocent. But even if it had been a ploy for a date, I did need his help in this. Roland was out of the race, and I was liable to break down at the worst possible moment if that stupid memory crept up on me. If gaining his help cost me to suffer for an hour, it was worth it. Besides, he had things to teach me. Magic and self-confidence. Those whips had looked pretty handy.

  “Fine,” I said, my back still turned to him. But I heard the door closing from the opposite side of the room the moment I spoke. I spun, eyes wide. What the hell? Had I pissed him off by not answering his asinine smiting question?

  I tore through the training room, bursting through the doors. No one stood in the hallway, so I pounded up the old stone steps, racing through three flights of spiraling stairs before I came to a digital scanner on the wall. I slapped my sweaty palm against it, impatiently waiting as it read my biometric signature. The door whisked open and I let the dilapidated-seeming door close behind me, leaving me in a side corridor of the church. Nothing moved. I bolted through a side door, the overcast clouds much brighter than the gloomy dungeon I had been in for the past hour.

  I didn’t run head-first into a Demon, but I did find Nate leaning against a tree, eating an apple. Two Sisters walked the grounds, not far enough away for me to tell him how I really felt, but I stalked closer to him, face a thunderhead.

  “I hav
e enough women problems already, trust me. Last thing I need is another one. It’s just dinner. Get over yourself, kid,” he said before I could even open my mouth.

  Then he turned his back on me and began walking away. I stared at his back in disbelief, knowing that anything I said would only make me sound like… a child throwing a tantrum. But then I remembered the Demon. I flung out a hand, even though he couldn’t see me. “Nate, wait!”

  He paused, glancing back at me. Not wanting to be overheard, I took a few steps closer. Seeing this, he turned, frowning curiously. “A Demon attacked me earlier. On my way to the church. Keep your eyes open.”

  He nodded slowly, but didn’t look all that concerned. “There’s always demons over our shoulders, Callie. I always keep my eyes open.” Then he continued walking away, calling over his shoulder. “Meet me tonight at my hotel. The concierge will take you up to my rooms. We need to plan our robbery of the vampires. Be thinking about it, because we move tonight. Oh, and don’t use your real name at the hotel. And wear a hat or something.”

  I stomped back inside, sliding the stone carving — that looked like a dozen others spanning the hallway — to the side, and pounding my code in the keypad to head back down to the training room. The door slid open and I walked through, waiting for it to close before I descended. Heavy bag. That’s what I needed. Let off some steam.

  As I entered the room at the base of the stairs, an echoing whisper caught my ears.

  “If I had been hitting on you, you would have known it by the pile of discarded clothes lying at your feet…”

  I whirled, stunned. How the hell had he gotten back in here? I raced up the stairs, ready to shout, scream, yell, and hit him for his arrogance. But as I reached the biometric scanner, I saw no one. I frowned, thinking furiously. He hadn’t returned, or else the keypad would register that someone had just opened it. But as I touched the settings tab on the screen, I realized that the only clocked opening of the door was my own. No other.