The Silver Bird: Immortal Secrets Trilogy Book One (Immortals Secrets Trilogy 1)

by S J Williams

  Pressing it to her ear, she ducked down another narrow side street, hoping to get away from the traffic to have a decent conversation.

  Come on, come on. She thought. Pick up.

  Finally, a voice came on the other side.

  “Hello?”

  “Roberto?”

  “Effie, my dear. How are you? Enjoying Florence?”

  “I was.” She growled. “Look, I’ve picked up a couple of goons who seem to think I look like a good time. Do you think you could come and pick me up. They’re following me.”

  Effie made herself sound annoyed to mask the panic that was building in her chest.

  “Ah. Oh dear. Of course. Of course. Where do you want to meet?”

  “I’m just approaching…” She looked around. She didn’t know where she was. “I’m, ah…”

  “Not to worry, dear. I’ll find you.”

  “You will?” She asked but he had already hung up. She frowned at the phone. That was a bad habit of his. Still, she wasn’t going to complain if he could find her sooner, even if it was slightly creepy that he could do that.

  She hurried to the end of the alleyway and made for the next large street, hoping to make it easier for him to come and find her. Sure enough, she hadn’t been walking more than a couple of minutes before a taxi smoothly slid to the kerb beside her. Roberto lent across the back seat and opened the door for her.

  “Get in, get in.”

  A shout rang out behind her, echoing off the stone in the narrow passage. They were still following her. Effie glanced over her shoulder as she ducked into the car.

  Henry and Sebastian had gained on her at some point. They were close enough for her to see the grim expressions on their faces.

  “Effie! Don’t get into that car!” Sebastian shouted.

  Like she was going to listen to him. She shut the door in their faces and the car pulled away just as the two men arrived at the pavement. She watched them shrink and then disappear out of sight in the rear view mirror before breathing a sigh of relief and flopping back against her seat.

  “They were persistent.” Roberto observed, coolly. “Not very smart to give your name out to strangers.”

  “I didn’t.” Effie protested, stung by the judgement in his tone. “They already knew my name when they approached me.”

  “They did?” Roberto glanced at her quickly before turning his eyes back to a stack of papers he’d been reading.

  “They came up to me and asked me by name. I didn’t know what to think. They said they were art collectors with a speciality in fifteenth century Florence. Honestly, I was too interested in that to worry about how they knew me after that.”

  “Curious.” Roberto mused. “Did they tell you their names?”

  “Just their first names.” She made to say “Sebastian and Henry, but her throat locked. Again, that feeling she had just walked away from something precious. She shook her head, trying to shake it off but it was buried deep inside her like a hidden piece of her heart that was only now seeing the light of day.

  “Anyway. Thank you for coming to get me. I know you don’t like going out in the day much.”

  “For you, my dear, there was no sacrifice. But perhaps you should keep your day time wanderings to a minimum, hmm?”

  Effie sighed. She’d liked looking around the city as it glowed in the sun but reluctantly agreed with Roberto. She hadn’t thought anyone would have been interested in scruffy old her with all of the beauty of Florence to distract them, but she guessed she’d been wrong. Very wrong, as it had turned out.

  “Don’t look so depressed. If you’d wait until evening, I could be your personal guide to the city.” Roberto ducked his head, trying to catch her eye. She smiled at him gratefully. Roberto was right. She wasn’t really missing out on much. And being confined to her work during the day would give her more time to get on with researching the portraits. The opening date was fast approaching and she still had some labels to write.

  “Right.” She said, sitting up and expelling the air she held. She looked around and noticed she had no idea where they were. The streets were entirely unfamiliar.

  “Where are we?”

  “I had some errands to run.” Roberto said vaguely. “Why else do you think I was so conveniently on hand to rescue you?”

  “Oh. I didn’t interrupt you, did I?”

  He waved one hand airily. “No, no. I hadn’t started. You don’t mind if I just nip in and out of a few places before we head back?”

  “Not at all.” She murmured and watched the streets as they wound their way through the back roads. Some streets were so narrow, she was amazed the car fit through them at all. Despite saying he had a few stops to make, the taxi driver kept driving for a good twenty minutes, not making much progress that she could tell as he twisted this way and that. She was on the point of asking if he knew where he was going when she spotted some buildings she recognised from when they’d gone to visit the university the day before. The driver finally came to a halt at the back of a building built of the same dull gold stone typical of the city. She made to get out but Roberto put his hand on her arm, making her pause.

  “Stay here, will you, Effie? I’ll only be a minute.”

  She nodded and sat back to watch him disappear through the back door of the building. Then there was nothing to see. This wasn’t one of the prettier streets, she thought, squinting around. Perhaps that archway over the road could be considered impressive. If it wasn’t so dirty. The taxi driver glanced over his shoulder, then flicked on the radio and pulled a magazine out from where he’d stuffed it down the pocket in his door.

  With nothing else to think about, her mind slipped back to her conversation with Sebastian and Henry. She’d been enjoying herself, basking in their interest and enthusiasm until it had all gone wrong. Why? They’d seen the portraits and it was like a switch had been flipped. Where they had been relaxed and cheerful, they were suddenly on edge and intent, their questions feeling more like an interrogation than a friendly conversation. Was it so odd to find a collection like Roberto’s?

  Or maybe, she thought, a suspicion forming in her mind. Maybe they did know about the collection. Maybe they wanted to get their hands on it before Roberto could exhibit it. Such things weren’t uncommon in the world of art and Roberto was a relatively unknown figure. They probably thought he’d be easy to con or something.

  They had probably thought she would make an easy target, a weakness they could use to get to Roberto. She gave a gusty sigh. And she would have been easy. She’d been falling for their act right until something about their manner had tipped her off. That had been a lucky escape. Too lucky. She hesitated to tell Roberto about it. She was sure Roberto wouldn’t hesitate to point out to her the very obvious risks she’d been taking.

  Effie sunk her head into her hands. And he’d be right to do it. She’d been taken in by their charming smiles and handsome faces before she’d given them a second glance. She’d better get her act together or she’d find herself being fleeced by every charming dealer who came to the gallery.

  Shaking her head ruefully at herself, she looked out of the window again. The street was just as before. A bit bland, a bit grimy and completely deserted. She huffed another sigh. Couldn’t Roberto have left her somewhere prettier?

  Sebastian swore first in Italian and then in English for good measure. He’d seen the man in the back of the taxi.

  “He’s back.” The vicious hiss made Henry jerk with surprise. “Old Barty’s back.”

  He fished his phone out of his pocket. If there was even the slightest chance that he was right, he wasn’t going to let the vampire get away from him a second time.

  Impatiently, he waited for Catarina to pick up.

  “Sebastian.” the welcome wasn’t particularly warm. “I hope you have a good—”

  “We’ve found Bartholomew.”

  “You’re sure?” The voice down the telephone line was sharply suspicious. But then, of course Cat
arina would be careful. She had almost as much reason to despise Bartholomew as he did. Almost.

  “No. I’m not sure.” Sebastian growled. “But I intend to be.”

  “It’s been hundreds of years. What makes you suspect he’s back?”

  “I’ve seen him.” The urge to chase after the taxi was still gnawing away at him.

  “Really? You’re sure it’s not just someone who looks like him?”

  Sebastian gritted his teeth. “A mysterious professor has turned up with a collection of portraits by the artist Fra Amedeo dating from the period Bartholomew disappeared.”

  “That’s all? That’s all you have to go on? For goodness sake, Sebastian. That’s nothing. This professor could be anyone.”

  “Anyone who looks like Bartholomew who just happens to have some paintings by Fra Amedeo? These portraits are all of immortals.”

  There was a pause.

  “All of them?” Catarina was right to doubt him this time. Immortals avoided creating images of themselves that could be used to identify them some time in the future. A whole gallery of of portraits was very unlikely.

  “I only saw a couple of them.” He admitted reluctantly.

  Catarina sighed loudly. “It must be a coincidence. I said it then, I’ll say it now. You’re chasing moonbeams.”

  “That’s not all.” Sebastian hadn’t wanted to mention Effie but he needed Catarina on his side. “The woman we spoke to, the one who told us about the archive, it’s Effie.”

  “Effie? Who’s…” Catarina choked. “Your Effie?”

  Sebastian bit off a creative reply. “Which other Effie would she be?” He asked, the tone of his voice a hair away from sarcasm.

  “Which other Effie? Any of them! Sebastian…” He heard her bite off her angry words and sigh. “Effie’s gone. Don’t… just don’t let yourself get carried away on a wild theory—”

  “It’s not a theory.” He snapped. “I’m telling you. It’s her. She talks like Effie, sounds like Effie, acts like Effie. She even smells like Effie.”

  “Does she have Effie’s memories?”

  Sebastian had no answer for that. He used to have a telepathic connection with Effie’s mind but there had been no evidence of that bond today. Nothing but whispers of fascination.

  “Okay.” Catarina sounded very concerned now. “Say this is Bartholomew behind this. How do you know he hasn’t just found a lookalike to torment you. You have to agree that he would be tempted to come out of hiding if he had found someone close enough to Effie to fool you.”

  Sebastian struggled to listen to Catarina’s reasoning. He knew the point she raised was a good one but, hell, she hadn’t met the girl. There was only so much a person could act. And her mind, Sebastian had recognised the taste of her mind. He screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Catarina. Stop. Bartholomew barely knew Effie back when she was alive. He only really knew about her because of her connection to me. He wouldn’t know how to get the details so perfectly right. I don’t think this is about fooling me. But he is up to something and he is intending to use Effie to do it.”

  Catarina was silent for a long minute.

  “Okay. Okay. Say I believe you – and that’s not to say I do believe you, by the way – what are you going to do about it?”

  “I have to get Effie away from him.”

  “Wait. The first thing you need to do is get more information. I need proof before I potentially ruin two people’s careers. And stop gnashing your teeth. I can hear it.”

  Sebastian had to consciously relax his jaw to stop his teeth from grinding. “Fine. I’ll get you your proof, but be ready on your end. I’m not losing her again, Catarina. Not because you weren’t prepared in time.”

  He hung up on Catarina’s squawk of indignation. Henry looked up from studying the flagged stone pavement.

  “So. You need to find proof it’s Bartholomew we’re dealing with.”

  “Right. We need to get a look either at this Roberto Albini or the portraits.”

  “How are we going to manage that? We’ve just chased Effie off. She now thinks there’s something shady about us and prying into her research is only going to confirm that suspicion.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Sebastian snapped then shut his eyes and breathed out slowly, pressing his fingers against his eyebrows. “Sorry. It’s just… just the thought of her with him. She’s mortal, Henry. She’s at her most vulnerable.”

  They shared grim looks. It was impossible not to think that Bartholomew’s ultimate plan for Effie would be to feed from her. Once a vampire tapped into a mortal’s vein, nothing could stop its bloodlust from taking over and drinking the mortal to death.

  But Bartholomew could do worse than that. If she had the potential to become an immortal in her blood, he could turn her into a vampire. There was no coming back from that. She’d be lost to him for ever. It was impossible not to imagine walking in too late, to find a bloodless corpse or a ravenous monster. Sebastian would move heaven and earth to stop either scenario from happening.

  “It’s a pity she doesn’t remember us.” Henry mused. “Do you know if a reincarnated immortal’s memories come back?”

  Sebastian shook his head. The stories he’d heard about reincarnation had been vague on details like that. Really, it was so rare for an immortal to come back and be found by immortals who had known them, they were little more than legends.

  “Right. Then we’re going to have to go with the assumption that she won’t remember anything. Oh, I’m sure she’ll remember some, probably everything in time.” Henry added hastily when he spotted Sebastian’s scowl. “Just not in time to be helpful.”

  “This is not going to be easy.” Even in ideal circumstances, Sebastian would have faced an uphill climb just to persuade Effie to risk giving up her mortal life for him.

  Henry gave a pained chuckle.

  “That goes without saying.”

  Effie studied a photograph of one of the portraits for what felt like the thousandth time. Her lips twisted in a shrewd smile. She didn’t think Fra Amedeo had liked this man. If the monk’s depiction was accurate, she didn’t think that she would have liked the man either. The painted face looked arrogant, cruel, just like a thief.

  “Effie?” Roberto called from the sitting room of their flat above the gallery space Roberto had rented.

  “In my bedroom.” She answered.

  Robert popped his head through the door and smiled at her. “There you are. I was wondering how you are getting on with writing the labels?”

  “Oh yes.” She said, quickly putting down the photograph to turn back to what she was supposed to be doing.

  “I’ve done most of them. There are a couple I’d like more context on before I can finish my commentary. Perhaps you could help with that.” She turned on the laptop and navigated to the screen where she had all her research notes.

  Roberto came to look over her shoulder, one hand resting on the back of her chair. She stifled the urge to shift away. She liked Roberto, enjoyed his company and even found him attractive on occasion but there was something about his smell, something metallic and slightly stale which made her want to gag. Probably a combination of too many protein shakes and not enough teeth washing after meals.

  Not that she ever saw Roberto consume anything other than protein shakes, which he practically inhaled, he drank them so fast. He said he preferred them to normal food. He claimed to be too busy to eat, too uninterested in food to be bothered with it. Very un-Italian of him but it was his prerogative.

  She was glad, in a twisted kind of way, that he wasn’t perfect. It would have been very awkward if she had developed a crush on her boss. She was already a little overawed with him as it was. He had come swooping into her life when she had been at her lowest. Barely a year into her career as an art historian, her life had twisted, leaving her an orphan with a gaping hole in her future. He had come to her with the project to open a temporary art gall
ery in Florence and had offered her a job to research a collection of original paintings by the Florentine artist Fra Amedeo. It had been a Godsend. She had purpose again. She knew it wouldn’t have taken much to tip her right over into believing she’d found her own fairytale. She hoped she wasn’t that naive. Everyone knew fairytales weren’t real.

  “Which portrait do you need help with?” He asked now, appropriating the mouse from her and scrolling through the images.

  That was another annoying habit of his. He was too impatient, too eager to take control of any task. Not that she could call herself the most patient of people, but that didn’t stop her from getting annoyed.

  “There’s two, actually. Number seven and number thirty-one.” She told him and fought hard with herself not to wrestle the mouse away from him as he began scrolling all the way back to the top. Honestly, if he’d just let her type into the search box…

  He found the first portrait and read through her description, skimming through the contents in that fast way of his that always left her feeling a little awed and inadequate.

  “What do you need to know?” He asked, his voice distracted.

  “I’ve come across a few people who were related to them but I can’t find much about them.”

  Roberto scanned the description again, pausing when he came across the names she’d highlighted. He frowned. “I don’t see why you’re so worried. Leave them.”

  Effie frowned. That wasn’t what he’d said about the others. “I thought you wanted to get as many details as possible. You said…”

  “No.” Roberto straightened. “There’s no time. I want this done by next week.”

  She looked at him in surprise. Cutting corners wasn’t like him. He’d practically whipped her like a workhorse to get every scrap of biography on the other obscure relations she’d found.

  She sighed. Oh well, the deadline for opening the gallery was coming up. And it wasn’t as if she needed the extra work. She deleted the names. “Okay. Well, apart from that, I think it’s all set for you to proofread and then send off to be printed.”