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

by S J Williams

  Sebastian had to fight to consciously relax his guard. That didn’t stop her from sending him nervous looks. Each one cut deeper than any blade.

  Henry continued speaking, distracting Effie. “Florence was tricky under Savonarola. Getting involved with fanatical religious sects wasn’t good for our health.”

  “I thought immortals were hard to kill.” Effie teased.

  “We are.” Henry said. “But even we are vulnerable to fire.”

  “F-fire?” Effie asked. The stutter was slight, but Sebastian caught it.

  “Yes. Very effective way of destroying the body.” Henry said airily. Then he stopped, a dawning guilt in his eyes. Hurriedly, he cleared his throat. “About that diary…”

  “Are you alright, Effie?” Sebastian hadn’t imagined the icy snap of fear that she was now burying as deeply as she could.

  “Fine.” She said, a touch snappishly.

  Yes, Sebastian thought, she’s definitely hiding something.

  As Effie went back to the beginning of the diary, a pen and notepad at the ready, he watched her and wondered. Why would she be sensitive about fire? She’d never been especially worried about it before, despite fire’s ability to kill immortals. Had the fear come from her death? Had she been conscious on some level when she’d died?

  “Have you always been afraid of fire?” He asked quietly in the stiff silence.

  Effie’s hands stilled on the page she was reading. Henry, who had been flicking through the book on herb lore, looked up at him, a slight frown of warning on his face. He didn’t object, though. Instead, he looked at Effie, waiting for her answer.

  For a long while, Sebastian thought that she wouldn’t answer. Or that she would let silence be her answer. But, at last, not looking at either of them, Effie began to speak.

  “I wouldn’t say I was afraid of fire. I can enjoy a camp fire or a burning stove as much as the next person. Afraid of burning? Yes. That I could say. Which, of course,” she added, her dark tone lightening, “is entirely rational.”

  “But your fear isn’t rational, is it?” Sebastian murmured. Effie’s eyes flicked up to his, then back to the page she was pretending to read.

  “No. It isn’t.” She was quiet again and Sebastian wondered if she’d say any more. She still hadn’t turned the page. The tension stretched between them. At last, Henry cleared his throat and muttered something about getting them all a drink of water. He disappeared into the kitchen.

  “The Effie you knew,” she said when he’d gone, her voice barely a whisper. “Did she get burned at one point?”

  The horror that had been threatening to strangle Sebastian since the subject of fire had come up seized his throat. Throughout all the long years he’d missed Effie, he had been grateful for one thing: she hadn’t been conscious for her end. Gods knew, death by burning alive was not the easiest of ways to go. Had he been wrong? Had she suffered like he’d told himself time and time again she hadn’t?

  He coughed painfully. “She was burned to death.”

  Effie finally raised her eyes to him. The expression in them could only be described as tortured.

  “That explains the dreams.”

  Henry came back in with a tray of water glasses. The moment shattered, Effie went back to her reading and Sebastian was left with his troubled thoughts.

  His Effie had suffered, was still suffering if these dreams meant she had to relive the moment of her death. And there was nothing he could do, his chance to save her already five hundred years gone. His fists clenched. He could not spare her suffering, he thought grimly, but he could make sure old Barty felt a little bit of it before he died.

  “Find anything interesting?” Henry asked, a careful note in his voice.

  “Not so much interesting as strange.” Effie said, her eyebrows coming together in a frown. “Whoever wrote this was rambling all over the place. I can’t even work out who they were. They seem to be interested in everything from anatomy to mixing paint pigments.” She looked up at them. “There’s this long bit about Galen here, you know, the Roman anatomist. But, on the next page, he’s trying to get hold of copper and lapis lazuli.”

  “It’s not that odd for a painter to be interested in anatomy.” Henry pointed out, passing her one of the glasses.

  She took it and sipped before answering. “Yes. But not the bodily humours. This guy is fascinated with them. He’s listed them in detail. See here.” She pointed to the page. Sebastian and Henry bent over her shoulders to look. “Blood, black bile, yellow bile and phlegm, and, here, how they’re supposed to have something to do with regulating the body’s health or something. And here, the symptoms a person will show if there’s an imbalance between them.”

  “Yes.” Henry nodded, his brows furrowed in thought. “I remember this one. Short-tempered people were supposed to have too much yellow bile.”

  Effie shot him a quizzical look. “Weren’t you born around the time this was really fashionable? Was this something you believed in?”

  Henry shrugged. “If I did, I don’t really remember now. You have to realise, once I became an immortal, human medicine stopped having any relevance for me. You’d have to ask a nerd like Lucien for more details.”

  “Hey.” Effie said, lifting her eyebrow in mock warning. “Watch what you say about nerds. I’ll have you know I’m a class A nerd and proud of it.”

  Henry sniggered. Calmly, Effie tore a strip of paper from her notebook, screwed it up and threw it at him, catching him on the tip of his nose. “Oh grow up.”

  Henry covered his head with his arms. “Abuse! I’m under attack. Save me, Sebastian.”

  Sebastian felt a smile tease at the corner of his mouth. He’d forgotten that they used to be like this, adults one minute, children the next. He shook his head at Henry. “I’d rescue you but then she’d attack me and I like my face the way it is.”

  “Fat lot of good you are.” Henry said, between ducking the balls of paper Effie continued to throw at him.

  “Serves you right for having such a big nose.” She teased.

  “Do we know what it is in particular about the humours that interested our friend,” Sebastian called out over the clamour, “or why he might have been interested in medicine at all?”

  Effie paused in the act of screwing up yet another sheet from her notepad. Henry used the opportunity to scoop up some of her used missiles and throw them back at her. She batted them away distractedly.

  “I don’t know. As I said, he seems to be writing this up just out of interest.”

  “Maybe he got ill?” Henry speculated. “He might have been interested in researching a cure or an explanation for what was wrong.”

  Effie screwed up her nose as she thought. Sebastian’s heart tripped in his chest. She looked so… adorable when she did that. He could remember kissing every wrinkle on her nose until her face relaxed into a laugh.

  “Not that I can tell…” she said slowly, turning the page. “No, wait. He describes what looks like some symptoms here but that could be related to the lists he was making earlier…” She trailed off, her eyes skimming over the text.

  “Do you think it has something to do with the plants we found?” Henry asked, all humour in his face draining away.

  Effie shrugged. “Maybe. As I said, I’ll have to read more of it. I just got caught by all the philosophy on Galen. It’s a bit heavy going and I’m not sure he understood it all. Or, if he did, he has a really weird way of applying it. He keeps going on about the soul and how to strengthen it or something. I have no idea if that was a prevalent idea at the time.”

  Effie paused as a thought struck her.

  “Bartholomew said he inherited the portraits. Is it possible that he’s had them all this time? Since the fifteenth century, I mean?”

  Sebastian grimaced and scratched at his eyebrow. “Maybe but, if that’s the case, he’s waited a long time to do anything about it. I know he’s wanted the medallion since the fifteenth century though, at the time, I thoug
ht it was just a smokescreen to justify going after us with the full weight of Savonarola’s government behind him. I’d rescued it, you see, from one of the fires when they were burning pieces of art.”

  Effie stared at him, wide-eyed. “Why?”

  “You liked it.” He said simply then winced internally as her face shut down, her relaxed demeanour disappearing in a wave of tension.

  It’s still too soon, idiot, he thought to himself savagely. You’re pushing her and it’s still too soon.

  From the tenor of Henry’s emotions, he was thinking the same thing. Henry broke into the awkward silence, clearly trying to find a way to get the conversation back on track.

  “We could always go to the university and ask around, see if anyone has heard of them. If Amedeo was a Florentine painter, it would make sense to have an expert or two on him there.”

  Effie jumped on the change of topic.

  “Bartholomew told me he went to the University of Florence. They might tell us more about what he was researching while he was there but going to the university could just complicate things. What if they insist on taking the diary out of our hands? I’d like to study it a bit before it gets locked behind glass or something.”

  Henry grimaced. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He admitted sheepishly.

  “We don’t know for sure if Bartholomew ever went to the university. He might have just used his mind control to create a backstory for himself.” Sebastian said slowly. “It could be useful to check to see if anyone there has had their memories altered.”

  Effie nodded, warming to the idea. “And if he wasn’t there, we could use that information to discredit him when he tries to do anything with the paintings. That might throw a spanner in the works if he’s relying on his academic credentials to make a big thing out of them.”

  Sebastian gave Effie an admiring look while Henry crowed.

  “I like how your mind works, you devious, devious girl.”

  Effie grinned at them, flushed with pleasure at their praise, before continuing.

  “Of course, it may not come to that, if we can catch up with Bartholomew in the meantime.”

  Sebastian’s mood soured at the thought of the hunt that was going on without him. In any other circumstances, he would be out there with Lucien and Catarina, ready to grab Bartholomew as soon as they caught him.

  But.

  He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Effie so soon after he’d found her. And, truly, his skills weren’t very suited to tracking someone down.

  He would be there for the kill, he promised himself. He could be satisfied with that.

  “We will have to wait until Catarina and Lucien come back before we can know anything on that front,” he said, schooling his face into a passible mask over his bloodthirsty thoughts. If it was too soon to remind Effie of their shared past, it was definitely too soon to remind her of the bloody life immortals often led. He just hoped she wouldn’t turn away from him when the blood of cold murder was fresh on his hands.

  It wasn’t until late afternoon that Catarina and Lucien came back. Catarina stalked through the door, her body as sinuous and deadly as an angry cat. Her face was a picture of frustration.

  Henry winced as she threw herself down into a chair at the kitchen table.

  “I guess the search didn’t go well, then?”

  Catarina looked daggers at him. Lucien, taking a chair next to her, sighed and shook his head.

  “Nothing.” He ran a hand over his face and pulled at his jaw. “Absolutely nothing.”

  “I don’t understand.” Catarina said, her voice an angry hiss. “It’s like he was never in the city. There is no trace of him anywhere outside of the rooms he hired. He just vanishes.”

  Sebastian felt something pop in his jaw. Carefully, he unclenched his teeth.

  “He’s done this before,” he said grimly. They all looked at him. “When we tried hunting him, after…” He trailed off. They didn’t need him to clarify what he meant by “after”. “We looked for him, traced him, and yet, nothing. Like you said, it was like he just disappeared from the face of the earth.”

  “Well.” Catarina threw up her hands. “You could have said something.”

  “I was hoping it was just the confusion of that time which enabled his escape.” Sebastian growled at her.

  “That’s easy for you to say.” She retorted, her voice rising. “You haven’t been trawling all over the city all day on a wild goose chase.”

  “Hey. Hey. Hey.” Henry put up his hands, coming to stand between them. All that did was turn Catarina’s temper on him.

  “Always the peacemaker.” She sneered.

  Henry refused to be provoked. “Right now, arguing is the least helpful thing we can do.”

  Catarina looked like she wanted to throttle him. Because she knows he’s right, Sebastian thought cynically.

  Throughout all this, Effie had been leaning quietly against the kitchen counter, her forehead puckered in a slight frown.

  “The last time he disappeared, it was in Florence, right?” She asked.

  The room went quiet as everyone paused to look at her.

  “That’s right.” Sebastian said carefully, afraid to push her into once again retreating into herself, as she seemed to do every time they talked about the events surrounding her death.

  “Well, that suggests he’s got a method for disappearing in this city. So, and this might sound crazy but bear with me, maybe he has somewhere in the city where he can hide.” She looked around the room. “If you were looking for how he left the city, it might explain how you missed him.”

  Catarina stared at her, a stunned expression on her face. Then she leapt to her feet, clearly intending to march straight back out of the door. Lucien growled and snatched at her arm, his movement a blur. He caught her and yanked her back into her seat.

  “Stay, woman.” He snapped. “We are not going back out there. Not tonight. Certainly not without a plan. We might have something new to look for but it’s still a needle in a haystack.”

  Catarina scowled at him but she slumped back into her chair. Now that she wasn’t practically vibrating with frustration, Sebastian could see that she was just as tired as Lucien.

  “Tomorrow.” She said, spearing Sebastian with a look. “You are coming with us. You know this city better than we do.”

  “I can do that.” He said slowly. “But I’m not sure how that will help. He got past me last time. It’s likely he’ll get past me again now.”

  Catarina threw up her hands again. But, this time, it was in defeat.

  “Bloody vampires.” Was all she said before she sank into sullen silence.

  “Coffee, anyone?” Henry asked, his voice incongruously bright in the darkening room.

  “You are still a problem.” Catarina turned her glare on Effie, who, distracted from her thoughts, jumped slightly. “You need to decide whether you’re going to turn immortal.”

  “Give her some slack!” Sebastian growled. “She only found out about immortals a day ago. And,” he leaned on the table to look Catarina in the eye, “we promised her we’d give her time.”

  “She’s had long enough.” Catarina’s tone was uncompromising. “We can’t have her hesitating over this indefinitely. Not with a vampire running around. You know that better than anyone.”

  “Not everyone has to hurtle through life making impulse decisions.” Sebastian snarled.

  “What would happen if I decide against becoming an immortal?” Effie’s quiet question broke into their argument.

  “Your memory of ever meeting us and finding out who we were would be erased.” Catarina said with a careless lift of one shoulder.

  Effie stared at her. “How?”

  “It is an element of mind manipulation.” Lucien said gently.

  “But the only mind controller here is…” She trailed off, looking at Sebastian. “You.”

  Sebastian’s face was as opaque as stone as he nodded.

  Effie was
silent for a moment. She knew how Sebastian felt about her or, rather, about the Effie he’d known. What would it do to him to be the one to remove all knowledge of him from her mind, just when he thought they could be together again?

  “So what would happen if I do decide to turn?” She asked, storing those thoughts away to examine later, when she was alone. “Didn’t you say something about contacting the council?”

  “That’s right.” Catarina looked calmer now that she had something to focus on. “Though it’s more of a formality than a real concern. Basically, the rule is that a member of the council has to supervise a turn.”

  Effie blinked at her. “Why? Surely there are too many of you to do that? Don’t they already have other things to do?”

  Catarina snorted. “There’s not enough of us to worry about that. We’re, what? About four thousand, five thousand?” She looked to Lucien for confirmation. He nodded.

  “About five thousand.”

  “So, no, we’re not worried about overpopulating the planet with immortals. Of course, if we’re talking about vampires, that’s another matter entirely. One vampire in the world is one too many to my eyes.”

  “You would not be alone in that view.” Sebastian murmured from where he was leaning against the counter, his arms wrapped around his chest, his eyes on his feet which were crossed at the ankles.

  Catarina smirked at him before continuing. “It’s safety. There’s a risk that, if a potential immortal is turned when they are either mortally injured or terminally ill, they will be insane when they wake up as an immortal. We call them rogues.”

  Effie blanched. “Has that ever happened?”

  “Once, famously,” Catarina said cheerfully. “Have you ever heard of the Roman Emperor Caligula?”

  Effie stared at her. “The one who tried to make his horse a consul? Didn’t he declare war on the sea?”

  “The very same.” Catarina grinned.

  “I thought those stories have mostly been debunked,” Effie said sceptically.

  “For lack of sufficient evidence,” Lucien clarified, “which doesn’t mean they’re not true.”

  Effie remembered to close her mouth. “And have there been any others, insane immortals, I mean?”