Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2

by Shayne Silvers

  I snapped out of my thoughts when I noticed that Dorian’s pants actually had cutouts to reveal his bare ass cheeks.

  I stared, dumbfounded, unable to avert my eyes for a second or two. Three. Four…

  I heard glass break as Midas tossed his Tiny Balls on the ground, opening up Gateways to… well, I hadn’t checked with Midas on that part, but I was betting St. Louis. Within moments, everyone was jumping through them, not remotely concerned with where they took them.

  A distant part of me realized that Midas would appear to be saving the Hellfire Club, possibly granting him their trust. All in all, his real estate purchase had been quite fruitful. I saw Dorian and his bare ass hop through the Gateway holding hands with… I cursed.

  A young, brown-haired woman in a long coat that I hadn’t noticed participating in the night’s frivolities. I couldn’t be sure, but it could have been the same one I had been searching for.

  Damn Mike Arthur. He’d ruined everything.

  I focused back to the task at hand as the Gateway winked shut. I turned to find Claire and Asterion panting, watching me. I nodded at Claire, snapping my fingers.

  “It’s time to fuck some shit up,” I told her.

  “Hard and fast,” she agreed. “Let’s pound them, man-cow,” she grinned at Asterion. He grunted his agreement, kissing his prayer beads before extending his fist for her to bump.

  She grinned at the gesture, meeting his knuckles with an actual punch. Asterion smiled.

  Then Claire exploded into a giant polar bear. I pulled out my pistols as the sound of pounding feet reached the top of the stairs outside the open doorway.

  Chapter 27

  I had fought Templars before, but I couldn’t say the same for my allies. I realized that the Templars had no way of knowing who was in the room. Or how many. They had obviously been scoping the place out, so must have been aware there was some kind of… board meeting taking place. They’d only moved to action after the enigmatic Mike Arthur and his tiny tiger blew through the window on his magic carpet, quoting Mel Gibson in Braveheart.

  “It’s just me, boys. Come on in!” I shouted out at them.

  Asterion and Claire slipped back against the wall, surprisingly fast and silent, hidden from immediate view behind some of the couches and shifting silken streamers hanging from the ceiling, blown about by the wind through the now-broken window.

  “Hand over the woman!” a man shouted, voice muffled from his scarf.

  “I just told you. I’m alone.”

  The Whispers chose that moment to chuckle deep within me. I shivered, unsure what to make of it. They had experience with me killing Templars, and were likely recalling the experience, remembering every spurt of blood. Sinners, they repeated hungrily, just like last time in Rome.

  “I’m entering alone,” the same voice called out as I suppressed the Whispers. No matter how true they were in judging the Templars, I didn’t want to relish in that judgment.

  A few moments later, a man stepped into the open doorway, but he didn’t step into the room. I lowered my pistols to my sides and jerked my chin at him.

  His eyes flickered about the room, checking for any surprises, but they weren’t far enough in to notice the two massive, hairy monsters tucked against the wall.

  He met my eyes. “You…”

  “Me,” I agreed. “Whatcha doing here?”

  “This is none of your concern.”

  “All of Kansas City is my concern, Templar. Just like your men are your concern.”

  “We know all about you, Temptress,” he spat. Literally spat on the floor. Well, it probably wasn’t the most unsanitary substance on the ground right now.

  “Temptress? That’s new. Are you talking about Rome? How’s Ol—”

  “Do not say his name!”

  I shrugged. “Okay. How is your new werewolf mascot doing?” I asked instead.

  He practically seethed. “This situation isn’t your concern,” he said, gesturing at the room. “These are the unwashed, the unclean. They are stained. If you get in our way, we will remove you. Permanently.”

  I rolled my eyes, not pointing out the contradiction of his boss. “Did you really bring six Templars to capture one woman?” I asked. Because I was pretty sure I now knew who had been chasing the brunette. Templars. Just as they had chased Faebio. “And how did you find us?”

  “I brought more than six, Temptress,” he said, stepping back into the gloomy hallway like a cheap movie villain. “You have five seconds to get out of the room,” his voice called out.

  I grumbled unhappily, discreetly motioning for my friends to hunker down low.

  “One…” he called out.

  “Five!” I blurted, rushing his planned schedule.

  And I unloaded both clips in a torrent of bullets at the wall above Claire and Asterion. I knew Claire was bulletproof, and I was sure the man-cow knew how to take a stray bullet like a woman, not some whimpering man.

  The Templars, on the other hand, began to shout and curse, several shrieking in pain as some of my barrage struck direct hits as they tore through the drywall. My gun ran empty and I held out my hand discreetly to tell my friends to stay low – to wait for return fire.

  I openly yawned as I saw a face peer through a larger hole in the wall. Then I very quickly called upon my black feathered fan, placing it before me as I crouched. Their return salvo was almost instantaneous, hammering into my feather fan with sharp pings like metal on metal.

  They clicked empty and silence reigned. I lowered my fan, peering through the dust from the broken drywall. I spotted the white of an eye before I dropped my chin.

  Asterion head-butted the wall, one of his horns taking Mr. Peeper through the eye, producing a bloodcurdling shriek. Then Claire threw herself entirely through the wall and screams of surprise and more gunfire erupted. I stared through the dusty air, horrified by the screams, gunfire, and roars, but almost as soon as it had begun, the hallway was silent.

  I waited, heart racing.

  Then I saw Claire enter the hallway, clutching a boot. She saw me, panted openly, and then continued into the room, revealing that the boot was still attached to a groaning figure. One of them was still alive. I jogged over to her, staring down at the Templar. He was bleeding in a few places, but would probably be fine after a visit to the hospital and a week of bedrest.

  I yanked his scarf off, but it wasn’t the same Templar I’d spoken with. I called upon a single silver butter-flay to land on the barrel of my pistol. I then carefully scooped up a pair of forgotten panties with the barrel of my other pistol, and dropped it on the butter-flay. Upon contact with the chrome cutie, the fabric sliced in half, fluttering to the man’s chest.

  I very slowly straddled the Templar, being sure to grind my hips slightly as I held the pistol with the butter-flay before him, smiling. Then I blew a kiss, and the butter-flay drifted down to his nose, resting on the tip like a silver snowflake, wings flapping in slow, measured strokes.

  His blue eyes widened in terror.

  “Why are you here, little Templar?” I asked in a low, gentle, monotone. I wanted him to confirm my suspicion. That they had been chasing the woman I had seen.

  Hypocrite… the Whispers purred in my ears. I let them, agreeing wholeheartedly.

  “Chasing down a criminal,” he grunted very carefully, clearly pissed off, but knowing he had no other choice.

  “You intended to storm a building for one person?”

  “Whatever it takes,” he muttered.

  “And what about Commander Olin Fuentes? His new… changes.”

  The man looked hesitant. “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” he finally said.

  I rolled my eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you people? Can’t you just leave us alone?”

  “When the Lord’s work is finished, we will not be needed,” he recited.

  “Your boss is a fucking werewolf, moron. Can you really not see the double-standard?”

  “He was turned into
an abomination doing the Lord’s work—”

  “I know. I was there,” I said, smiling to twist the barb.

  His eyes flashed with anger but he didn’t move. “He takes daily penance for his sins, to atone for his filthy blood, but the Lord sees the heart of a man.”

  I arched a brow, nodding. “Exactly my point. The heart of a Freak isn’t inherently bad. You just admitted it. So… stop hunting innocent people in my town.”

  He sniffed, obviously letting my words bounce off him, but his jaw worked as if he was gritting his teeth.

  I glanced up to see Asterion staring down at us with folded arms. “Two of them got away. I picked these off the dead ones,” he said, holding out their scarves.

  I growled, standing to my feet with a curse. “Take them with you and give them to Nate. They block magic. Do not—” I turned at a sudden sound from Claire, only to see her diving for me. I gasped right before she tackled me to the ground and I heard Asterion bellow a challenge.

  Claire picked me up, sniffing me frantically with her big wet nose.

  “Claire, I’m fine,” I assured her. “What happened?” I asked, confused.

  Claire abruptly crushed me to her chest in a bear hug. “Someone took a shot at you,” Asterion growled, “but you stood up just in time, so the dart hit your coat.”

  I shoved Claire back, turning to Asterion who was holding out a tiny dart with a black substance at the tip. The dart had a small crucifix carved into the side. My eyes shot to the Templar on the ground, but he hadn’t moved. I saw another dart sticking out of his chest and groaned.

  There went any chance of getting answers, and now the Templars knew I wasn’t going to back down. “They’ll be back,” I muttered, shaking my head.

  “I hear police sirens,” Asterion murmured, cocking his head.

  I turned to Claire. “Time to go home. We don’t want to be here when they arrive.”

  Claire nodded. “You have a date tonight,” she grumbled, and instantly began panting.

  Asterion grunted. “A date?” he asked too-casually, but I knew a spy when I saw one. Nate would know the moment he got back from Fae.

  Too tired to explain, I just nodded. “Yeah.”

  Asterion held out a massive hand to conceal his strained reaction. “I should probably take your guns. You can pick them back up in St. Louis.” He studied the room thoughtfully. “But it might be best to just get rid of them. We can help you get replacements without serial numbers.”

  I nodded, handing them over.

  I opened a Gateway back to my apartment, motioning Claire to shuffle through. Then I glanced at Asterion, blushing. “I’m sorry. Do you want a Gateway home?”

  He smiled at me, plucking two marbles from a pouch at his side. “I have Tiny Balls, too.”

  Despite everything, I laughed. “Okay. Thanks, Asterion. We’ll meet again soon. Let me know if you need any help with the Hellfire Club.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I think Midas’ found a way to turn this bad situation into a golden opportunity. Now, he has them in his clutches. Their savior. And that was Dorian Gray, right?” he asked, as if curious whether he had heard correctly. Not wanting to lie to the person who had just helped me, I nodded. “Him and Temple together…” Asterion said with a shudder.

  “I’d send him back sooner rather than later. The others, too. I appreciate you two saving them, but they aren’t captives. Tell Midas I said that.”

  Asterion shrugged, grinning in amusement. “I’ll… quote you.”

  I nodded back, waving farewell as he threw his Tiny Balls on the ground, opening a Gateway. Then I picked up my fluffy pink robe, deciding to dry clean it just in case, before stepping back into my apartment. I collapsed onto the couch mentally exhausted, dropping the robe as questions whirred through my mind like a butterfly exhibit.

  Claire had shifted back, but was simply lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

  I heard a rattling vibration and frowned down at the robe, realizing it was Claire’s phone. I’d forgotten she had tucked it into the pocket. Claire let out an annoyed sigh and crawled over to it, answering it on speaker.

  “Claire?” Beckett asked eagerly. “I got your text, but I was in a meeting. I sent over a patrol car. Is everything okay?” he asked.

  I shook my head adamantly. If Beckett stuck his nose into this, he was going to get killed.

  “We’re fine,” Claire said, frowning at me uncertainly. “It was just a… false lead,” she replied, sounding tired. I nodded at her in relief.

  He was quiet for a moment, as if sensing something was off about her tone. “Good. Well, not the false lead thing, but that you’re alright.”

  “Yeah. Just tired,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Keep me posted if you’re causing me any more problems in town,” he said drily. He sounded exhausted. From what Claire said, he’d been working hard lately. Trying to deal with the uptick in gang activity was wearying. He was a homicide detective, but more gang activity led to increased crime, and they’d all had to help pick up the slack.

  Claire hung up, staring at me. “Why did I just lie to our only cop friend?” she asked.

  I sighed. “I’ll tell you while I shower,” I said, climbing to my feet. “I have a date to get ready for, remember?” I muttered.

  She clapped her hands excitedly, following me into the bathroom to sit on the counter while I cleaned up behind the shower curtain, telling her my thoughts.

  Unfortunately, she seemed to agree with my assumptions. Not that it helped us much.

  Chapter 28

  I hissed as Claire tugged the brush through my hair, the merciless blow dryer drowning out my agonized squawks. “Easy! I’m not your childhood Rastafarian Barbie doll!”

  She cocked her head at me in the mirror. “I can’t hear you!” she shouted, not bothering to turn off the blow dryer. Or to stop yanking the tangles out of my hair. I glared suspiciously, sensing a twinkle of amusement in her bright green eyes.

  I suffered the rest of the torture in silence. It was easier to let her do my hair than it would have been to suffer her questions about my date for an extra hour while I tried to get ready by myself, leaving Claire with nothing to do but cross-examine me.

  She finally finished, fidgeting a few loose strands with a satisfied smirk. “I’d do you.”

  I rolled my eyes, snatching the blow dryer from her hands and pretending it was a gun as I mimed blowing my brains out. “No one is getting done tonight. I’m only taking a date because I’d rather not feel like the third wheel when I meet my dad’s girlfriend.”

  She smiled knowingly. “I know. But you’re so fun to tease.”

  “I like to look at my date as cannon fodder. A distraction to keep my dad busy while I get a good read on his girlfriend. To maintain even footing with her,” I admitted.

  She studied me. “How very… Machiavellian of you,” she finally said. I shrugged. She glanced down at the folded paper in my hands, dry-washing her hands anxiously. “Any idea what it means?” she asked.

  I shrugged, glancing down at it. Claire had gone to check my mailbox after our talk – letting me dry off in privacy, thank god – and had come back with the mysterious letter. It didn’t have a stamp or return address. “I have no idea,” I admitted. “The graffiti on the wall last night said Chancery, remember?” I reminded her, even though I recalled seeing it myself and didn’t need her confirmation. But maybe she had read something else on the wall that explained the word.

  She snatched the letter out of my hands, reading it out loud again. I let her, turning back to the mirror and checking my makeup.

  She cleared her throat, then began to speak in an overly official voice. “Thank you for your service. We will keep a better eye on our own in the future. Regards, the Chancery.” She sniffed it thoughtfully but shook her head. “Some kind of perfume concealing the scent,” she said, dropping it back on the table. “But who the fuck is the Chan
cery? And what are they thanking you for?”

  I shrugged. “Who cares? They sound polite, which is better than most Freaks in town.”

  Claire grunted, sounding more upset that she hadn’t also received a letter.

  I pulled out my phone, glancing at the time. “I’m going to call Haven and give him an update. I meant to do it earlier, but lost track of time.”

  “Callie?” I glanced up at her worried tone. “What if Beckett comes up against the Templars? If his awareness of the supernatural puts him in their crosshairs?”

  I sighed. “We’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen. This is a pretty tenuous relationship we have with his official duties. It’s going to take some time getting used to.”

  She sighed, nodding. “You’re right, but you should probably give him a call, Callie. He always asks about you.”

  I nodded stiffly. “I will. Soon.”

  “Chicken-shit,” she muttered, smiling as she turned away.

  I threw a hairpin at her, hitting her in the back of the head. “Why don’t you do something useful like replacing my nice underwear you destroyed?”

  Claire stopped, slowly turning. “I meant to ask you about that. How did you come to afford two-hundred-dollar panties when you don’t even have a job anymore?”

  I smiled devilishly. “Vatican hush money. Biblery. It’s like bribery, but not as sinful.” At her stunned look, I shrugged. “Meatball made a pretty significant deposit into my checking account in exchange for me keeping my mouth shut about what really happened in Rome.” Basically, he’d asked me not to make the Shepherds look bad. Word would eventually get out, but he didn’t want me starting the gossip.

  “Are you serious?” Claire hissed.

  I nodded. “He even transferred ownership of my apartment to me. They needed to cut ties with me, but were smart enough to not try evicting me out of my apartment. We both win. I guess.”