Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 1

by Shayne Silvers

  Huge, weightless, silver gauntlets encased my fists, and the fingers were long, menacing claws, like hers. My back throbbed, but I kept the pain from my face, fearing any hesitation would be my doom.

  “No Angel would have you…” she said, wings rattling.

  “You’re probably right. This is something different. Something new.” I smiled, stepping closer. She stared at my forehead, as if trying to read something. Then, without any tip off, she was charging at me. At the last second, she skidded to a halt, pounding her cloven hooves into the pavement and twisting her torso parallel to the ground as if to shake something off her back.

  Her wing shot out like a spear. Well, dozens of spears, the air smoking as her demonic feathers flew at me. I took one single step closer, pivoted my hips, and punched the hell feathers with my gauntlet. I felt them touch my hand, even though it didn’t feel like I wore any protection, and they shattered like glass, washing my wrist in flames that somehow didn’t burn. Sparks washed over me, and the smoke made it difficult to see, so I rushed her.

  I made it two steps before unleashing my other fist in a full-body upper-cut. Her jaw made a cracking sound as she flew into the air, her one good wing and one broken wing flaring out at the last second to catch the air in great big billows – although crooked. It slowed her down enough to land awkwardly.

  Where she found me waiting. I stomped on her lead foot, pressing down with all my weight as I threw a right cross at her throat. The skin was hard as it crunched like porcelain under my gauntlet, but it only seemed to stun her, not truly injure her. Which was when I hit her with the claws of my other hand, slicing up from her hellish pubic region across to her left boob, slicing open the skin in a wash of flame.

  Yellow blood spewed out from the wound, and she gasped, punching out with both hands to send me skidding back, but I pressed down on my back foot, and stopped almost instantly, my perfectly-fitted Darling and Dear boots preventing me from losing my balance.

  Amira clutched her chest in fury. Then she spat a glob of yellow flame into her claws and wiped it down the wound, sealing it instantly, leaving behind a puckered, orange scar. Her face had dozens of cracks in it, like an almost-shattered egg. My shoulders began to ache again as I stalked after her, but it was more of a dull, buzzing feeling.

  She dove to intercept me, claws out. I lifted my forearm to block her, and her claws screamed as they scraped down the chrome constructs, but then I realized she was spinning as I saw the tip of a dozen fiery blades coming at my face again, repeating her earlier tactic. I ducked my head, feeling intense heat as her bladed feathers scraped across the collar of my Darling and Dear coat. I stumbled, and her hoof came out of nowhere as she used her wing like a shoulder in a roll.

  Her hoof struck me in my unprotected stomach, sending me flying, doubled over.

  The sound of bears fighting was abruptly much closer, but I heard a very solid impact, and a fierce breeze followed by the snapping of jaws right in front of my face as I flew by.

  Just then, my shoulders lit with fire as if I had been shot twice in rapid succession, and then they tore open. I can’t think of any other way to describe the pain. I screamed, and glass shattered at my cry, but I froze in midair as if striking a heavy mattress. I glanced down to see my boots were not touching the ground, because that was about three feet below me as I bobbed up and down fluidly.

  The bears had actually stopped fighting to stare at me. I risked a glance to see smoking silver wings lightly flapping, almost like they were made of dry ice. The cold bit deep, as if felt within my soul, but it didn’t hurt or ache. It just simply was. As the smoke shifted back and forth, I could almost make out feathers beneath, just like Amira, but white rather than blades of fire.

  “Plot twist,” I laughed loudly, turning to grin at Amira.

  She screamed, revealing double rows of yellow fangs tipped in black. Then she was flying at me, slightly off course with each beat of her broken wing. Rather than consciously think about it, I let my body act as it would, pretending I was on solid ground and fighting in the training room. I didn’t want to try to make my wings work – because I had no idea how to do so.

  I simply focused on my mind. This was just another sparring match. All I needed to see were my opponent’s motions, and allow my body to respond and react to the thousands of subtle shifts and changes that marked an attack, a block, a testing jab, or a full-blown assault.

  I would fight with my mind, and let my body figure out how to make it work.

  I flew to meet her, watching her shoulders, and ignoring her various sharp protrusions. The shoulders were key indicators in any fight.

  We slammed into each other, our wings flapping wildly behind us as we clawed, punched, and kicked. She tried to bite my throat, but my fist was suddenly in the way. Her teeth clamped down, and several snapped off against the metal, making her body quiver in agony like I had placed tinfoil on a filling.

  She snapped out her wings, shoving me as she flew back a few paces. She was smiling.

  I flung out regular, old, wizard’s magic in a bar of air that caught her completely off guard – latching onto her hoof and flinging her mightily into the crane looming over her. She screeched as she slammed into the metal arm with enough force to crack bone and knock the wrecking ball free. It fell, fast, crashing just to the right of the three spectator bears. They didn’t even flinch.

  Too late, I realized why Amira had been smiling.

  I heard the clambering of great beasts beneath me, and something grabbed me by the ankle, yanking me out of the air. It squeezed my ankle and threw me. I slammed into the wall on the other side of the parking lot, brick crumbling as my wings flared out to absorb the impact.

  I fell limply to the ground, because even though my wings had taken most of the impact, I had still struck my head hard against the wall. I fell to my knees, staring out at Claire lying a few paces away, struggling to climb to her feet as she whimpered. Blood covered her pristine white coat, and I felt my heart break, shattering my rage in an instant.

  My magic flickered and died, my wings no longer helping to support my weight, and I instantly felt as if I was covered in a lead blanket.

  Then I saw Yuri plodding closer in a lazy gait, almost looking playful. He stopped a pace away, staring down with dark eyes, and bloody gashes all over his face. His ear had been torn off, and he sported just as many wounds as Claire did, but it didn’t show as well on his thick brown coat.

  I tried to call up my magic sticks to fight Yuri, but he simply swatted at my wrist hard enough to stun me, and then grabbed me with his other claw. He panted eagerly, staring at me from inches away, and then slowly began to open his jaws, revealing a row of stained yellow fangs as big as my pinkie, and a long, pink tongue. I scrambled for my magic, for anything, but thoughts of Claire dying beside me – combined with my exhaustion – left me useless.

  His neck suddenly darted forward, and I slammed my eyes shut, wincing.

  Nothing happened.

  I opened my eyes as I felt myself beginning to fall, and saw a bloody white paw protruding from out of Yuri’s open mouth. Black claws glistened with crimson blood, and then finally jerked back into his mouth, leaving a hole I could see through. Yuri and I crashed to the ground. Not a second later, I heard another heavy thump as Claire collapsed behind Yuri, wheezing.

  I slid myself over – my wrist tingling where Yuri had hit me – to check on my best friend. Deep, black eyes stared back, blinking as she let out a relieved-sounding whine. She licked my hand with a thick, black tongue, but that was about the extent of her strength.

  I squeezed her, covering myself in blood in the process, and used her to climb back to my feet, wobbling unsteadily as I stared back at Amira, who was back on the ground and had a frustrated look on her face. Then, seeing my weakness, she began to limp closer, injured.

  “Looks like you’re all out of tricks, Callie. Might be time to break out the Spear, now. Or else you can watch her die. Either works for
me, really.”

  Chapter 49

  The demon reached out with a clawed hand and grasped Claire by the rear paw, yanking her closer. Claire’s front paw swiped up my ankle on the way by, tripping me. I crashed down onto my chest with a grunt, my arms too weak to fully absorb the fall. I tried to prop myself up, but my arms shook violently, my wrist still throbbing from Yuri’s blow.

  The demon crouched over Claire, and began punching her thick, heavily muscled chest. She seemed to enjoy the fact that the thick polar bear hide allowed her to punch harder than she normally would with a human, prolonging the agony.

  Claire grunted and whined with each hit, and I struggled to crawl after her, to defend her.

  Use the Spear… I thought to myself.

  But I stubbornly shook my head. I had seen what happened when I tried bringing the Spear against Amira. This fight was personal, and I was pretty sure anyone upstairs would consider it bad form to use a holy weapon to settle a grudge. But my subconscious still considered it.

  I stared down at the ground, spitting blood, and saw a strap dangling freely. I stared at it for a second, frowning. Hadn’t the message with the coat said something about a buckle? What was so special about this coat? The boots could change and adapt to different styles, and detect demons. But the coat?

  I frowned, trying to focus on it and change it into something else, but it felt like any other jacket. I knew it could take a beating, but that seemed the extent of its power. I managed to flop down on my rear, hissing in pain, and noticed an empty buckle as I checked the back of my head for blood with my functional hand. I hesitated, staring at the buckle. Then I looked at the strap. Then the buckle again. With an effort, I grasped the offending strap, and clumsily forced it into its buckle. A wash of cold instantly rolled over me, and I felt my pain fading away. I shivered in relief. I was still exhausted, but at least most of my pain was gone.

  I looked back up at the grunting sound to find Amira staring at me with hatred, looking angry to see that I wasn’t even paying attention. I blinked, clearing my eyes as she went back to work. “The Spear, Callie. It’s the only hope you two have. Either use it or I will end this wretched beast.”

  I was pretty sure my dazed look had accurately shown her all was not well in Callie Land.

  But it hadn’t just been a dazed look. Between us, I saw two feathers hovering a few inches off the ground, about three feet apart – one as white as snow and the other a solid silver. They rotated slowly, but as I focused on one or the other, that rotation increased, and I heard different whispers filling my head.

  I stared at the silver one, guessing it was that of an Angel, or at least symbolized an Angel. Destiny. Salvation. Vanquisher… the voices whispered, but I quickly turned to look at the other.

  The white one that likely symbolized my training as a wizard. Knight. Hope. Strength. Justice… different voices cooed.

  Was I hallucinating, or was this a choice? But… that was an impossible one. I had both within me, and felt a connection with both sets of whispers.

  The cracked door inside me began to rattle. Very, very loudly. Until I wondered if anyone else could hear it, too.

  I tried to ignore the rattling as I crawled closer, feeling like it was forcing me into a decision. I wasn’t a fan of that. I deliberated fast, because as strong as Claire was, she wasn’t immortal. The whispers increased as I moved, the door kept on rattling for my attention, and I struggled to place one hand in front of the other, just wanting to close my eyes for a minute. But I shook my head angrily. No. I stared from one feather to the other, hearing more words and enticing promises from each. But, judging from what I had experienced today and when I had fought Johnathan, I had a tie to heaven in my blood, thanks to the droplet of Angel’s blood that had merged with me.

  I had freaking wings for God’s sake. Well, not anymore…

  Had that simply been a taste? An appetizer? If I chose the silver feather, would that make those powers permanent? And… would that mean I was no longer a wizard? Abandoning the gift from my birth mother, Constance?

  But if I chose the white feather, would that be a slap in the face to Heaven? To the Angels and the Nephilim? Abandoning the gifts from my birth father? From God?

  I scrambled forward faster, now, knowing that I needed one of them to have a hope at saving Claire. Either that or I took up the Spear. Which I didn’t know how to make appear, anyway. Feathers it was, by default. I shuffled closer, debating, clumsy with exhaustion.

  “Crawl to me, my dear. Save your friend. Use the Spear to save her. Or, be a saint and watch her die out of ignorant respect for your God – like all those before you, have chosen.” She glanced up at me and I was careful to avert my eyes from the feathers. “Chosen and failed, I might add. We’re still here, if you haven’t noticed. We haven’t changed. The Crusaders haven’t changed. That’s called a hint. God wants you to do this. But you’re scared of God,” she said, punching Claire again.

  Could she not see the feathers? Was I really hallucinating? How hard had I hit my head?

  I was only a pace away from them now, and I closed my eyes. Did choosing the white one make me a bad person? Did choosing the silver one make me arrogant enough to declare I was equal to Angels or Nephilim?

  I remembered my talk with the silver reflection of myself, and felt a small smile tugging at my cheeks. Stay true to yourself… and know that you are not required to make a life change.

  With my eyes closed, my heart open and suddenly warm, I reached out a hand, sensing that heat spread across my chest and down my arm. The door in my mind rattled, creaking against unseen hinges as if a tornado was on the other side.

  The air in the parking lot stilled in contrast to the storm in my mind. I opened my eyes to see my hand encased in silver, a line of silver liquid trailing from my heart down my arm, over the fabric of my clothes. My fingers wrapped around the white feather, and the parking lot flashed with white light.

  In my mind, the cracked door suddenly bulged, and then in a burst of splinters that was instantly consumed by a wave of liquid, white fire and a bed of silver coals.

  I snapped my eyes closed instinctively at the brightness, and heard Amira scream.

  I opened them a moment later to see the white feather in my hand slowly turning to silver from the bottom up, looking exactly like someone was pouring molten chrome over the feather – just upside down – starting where my hand touched it and spreading up, reaching for Heaven.

  Then the feather was entirely silver.

  My hand flashed once more, not as bright, and the feather winked out of existence.

  My eyes blazed, and I found I was somehow on my feet staring at Amira, still too far away.

  She screamed, shaking her head in outrage, and lifted her claws high overhead. Then she was shrieking maniacally as she brought the claws down towards Claire’s neck, thrusting them forward like a spear, as if intending to punch straight through to the pavement.

  Faster than thought, I flung out my hand. Need, I begged to myself.

  I needed Claire more than anything in the world. She was my lifeline. My bedrock. The first friend who had shown me love after seeing my use of magic. The most important part of a solid, dependable structure. My cornerstone.

  A white line appeared directly over Claire’s exposed neck, and then flared with a ring of silver sparks, a horizontal, silver Gateway the size of a melon.

  Amira gasped as her claws slipped through the Gateway, and then she gurgled, grunted and choked, not having sensed the second Gateway that had appeared directly behind her – below her shoulder blade, where her heart would be.

  Her claw sunk into the first Gateway above Claire’s throat, and protruded out the second Gateway and through her own chest, clutching a slimy, greasy, black-veined heart – like amber illuminated from within. She stared down at it, confused and struggling for air, burning blades falling to the ground behind her with metallic clanging sounds as her wings shed their feathers.

 
; I stepped up to her and shoved her with my boot, knocking her body a few paces away as I smiled down at my Darling and Dears. Those ass-kicking, magical, fetching, kinky boots.

  Because the sensation of demonic presence was entirely gone.

  “These shoes are so metal,” I whispered, adoring them.

  Clairebear opened her eyes weakly, seeing me staring down at my feet. She might have nodded her head in approval or appreciation, but then closed her eyes, passing out. Amira dissolved into a pile of smoldering coals – and I was suddenly thankful I had kicked her away from Claire.

  Before I could crouch down, I felt a presence behind me. I spun to find Armor, Kona, and Starlight assessing me with very thoughtful, considering looks. Then they looked at Claire.

  “We should take her from this place,” Armor said in a low rumble. “See to her wounds. When she wakes, it will not be good.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean, it will not be good,” I said the last in a deep, huffing voice.

  “I do not sound like that,” Armor grumbled.

  Kona coughed oddly, sounding suspiciously like a hushed laugh.

  “She killed,” Starlight said. “The first shift is hard enough without learning that you killed. We must help her through that trauma, so that she doesn’t associate murder with her beast. We must help her shift far from humanity, in the woods, to get to know herself without the savagery. To see that it is not a thing to fear.”

  I smiled down at Claire. “That makes sense. Hippie stuff. She’ll like that.”

  As I watched, Claire slowly returned to her human form – a small, naked, young woman. Tiny, really. Especially after her bear form. My heart broke for her pain – her body was a mass of bruises. “A polar bear,” I said absently, shaking my head. “What’s up with that?”

  Kona shook her head thoughtfully. “She must have bloodlines up there.”

  I nodded, still smiling down at her. She was alive. And she had been a total badass. I couldn’t wait to talk to her about it. Well, after she… rediscovered herself. I smiled up at Armor. “Admit it. She totally kicked ass out there. Better watch yourself. You thought I was a handful?”