Unchained: Feathers and Fire Book 1

by Shayne Silvers

  He took the bait, grinning hungrily, sensing weakened prey. “Keep going,” he hissed, sounding more confident now, and eager to get two for the price of one.

  I nodded quickly. “Our Master will be furious when he finds out we’re here,” I pressed with a genuine sob — not at my lie, but at my true fear that Claire was going to die. She was sobbing openly, supported only by the vampire’s grip on her shoulder, now. Better than her neck.

  It’s okay, Claire, I encouraged in my mind, trying to let her hear me through my eyes. But I didn’t dare let my face show anything but fear for the vampire. She didn’t get it, though, judging by the wild look to her eyes, pure terror. My act was too good.

  We were almost at the doors to the auction room. The wolf was less than ten feet behind the vampire, creeping up the steps, but now almost out of my sight as I had angled myself to keep the vampire between us. I saw only his bushy tail flicking slowly back and forth as he stalked closer, careful not to let his claws betray him. One click of those claws and the vampire would hear, because vampires had incredible hearing.

  “Master?” the vampire asked distractedly, eyes focused over my shoulder through the doors at the top of the stairs to make sure he wasn’t heading into an ambush.

  I nodded eagerly. “Yes.”

  “Who is your master, my sweet?”

  “Master Temple,” I whispered, pointedly jerking my gaze to his right as I let out a squeal.

  He gasped, jerking his head to look as he released Claire. I lashed out with a coil of air to snatch Claire’s ankle and yank her behind me into the auction room. She screamed as she slid by me in a tangle of limbs, but bruises would fade. Death was permanent. She crashed into something, but I didn’t dare risk a look.

  The vampire whirled back to face me with a snarl of fury, but he missed one minor detail. The wolf, sailing at his back, both monsters at the top of the stairs, now. My distraction, and the angle I had guided him to had been silently coordinated to benefit the wolf, like a true member of his pack.

  Right before he hit, the vampire spun, some sixth sense notifying him, but he was too late. Not wanting to risk the winner coming after us, I clapped my hands together the way Roland had shown me. A glowing cross of pure light erupted before me, the size of my palm. Less than a heartbeat later, it screamed through the air, wailing as it doubled, trebled, and quadrupled in size as it gained speed.

  The wolf hit the vampire in the shoulder, fangs sinking deep.

  The vampire shoved his hand into the wolf’s belly, claws sinking deep into furred flesh.

  And my little cross struck them both.

  The acrid scent of burned flesh and hair filled the air as they both screamed, flying across the room to hammer into the stairs on the opposite side of the atrium, and then tumble up the steps with grunts of pain before they disappeared through the open door leading to the main lobby.

  I didn’t wait to see if either had survived. I kicked off my broken shoes and burst through the doorway on bare feet. Claire was on all fours, shaking her head amidst a tumbled mass of knocked over chairs at the back of the auction room. I used magic to yank her to her feet and support her, checking for injury. She mumbled she was fine, but I could feel the terror still pulsing off of her. I supported her weight, leading us both to the stage at the far end of the room, scanning the treasured items warily, but keeping my eyes to the shadows, hoping no one else was here. I needed that spear.

  A yellow fog slowly drifted across the stage, almost like a malfunctioning smoke machine, but a sudden scent of rotten eggs filled the air, pulling my attention away from the broken theatrical equipment. What was that smell? Was there some other monster here? I flicked my gaze about, even checking behind us as I struggled to support Claire, walking faster now. I saw nothing, but noticed that the roars of fighting had died down. Temple and the bear must be gone.

  I turned back to the stage and halted with a gasp. The yellow fog was much thicker now, and had materialized into a humanoid shape directly in front of the spear.

  I called up my magic on instinct, and then hurled one of my energy spears. Claire squeaked, startled at my sudden attack.

  As if alerted by Claire’s sound, the smoky apparition shifted slightly to the right, its legs not moving, merely leaning its body. An arm darted out to catch my spear, and I felt my stomach cramp in instant pain. The yellow-smoke figure slowly turned to face me, eyes white pits of fire, and mouth a void of darkness. It blinked, which looked odd, eyes simply disappearing for a moment, and the shifting smoke seemed to freeze for a heartbeat, unmoving. Then it began to shift and undulate freely, mouth stretching into a smile. In its other hand, it held the spear piece. My spear should have popped out of existence by now, but it continued to crackle in its fist, as if trying to shock the being holding it. But nothing happened, other than waves of pain crashing through me.

  Though I was gasping, my stomach cramping in agony, I refused to turn away, willing to do whatever I could to protect Claire, if only for a few more moments, even if it meant using my body as a shield. As I stared through tear-filled eyes, I couldn’t tell whether the creature was a man or woman, because it was made of the shifting yellow fog. But twin pinpoints of light flared like tiny suns where nipples would have been, and long hair flowed over its shoulders. Its lower body grew indistinct, just a thicker cloud of the yellow fog below the waist.

  It smiled at me, then squeezed the fist holding my stick. I collapsed, every bone in my body suddenly aching with a pain similar to banging a shin against a table, but it happened in every fiber of my body, simultaneously.

  Claire had fallen with me, no longer supported. As I lay in the middle of the aisle, I managed to swivel my head enough to see the Demon take a step towards us. His next step would carry him off the stage, and a few steps after that would mark our deaths.

  “Hey! Quit grasping my shaft like that,” a bold voice called out from behind me.

  Temple. I recognized his voice. I felt a change in his magic, but without turning to look, I couldn’t tell what it was, and I didn’t dare turn away from the smoky apparition. What I thought to be Nate’s whips hammered into the floor with the ominous, steady drumbeat of a taunt, and it was coming closer. The creature roared defiantly at Temple, but took a step back.

  “Don’t want to play?” Temple chuckled as he drew closer, still cracking his whips in that consistent beat. I could feel the floor shaking with it, and the smell of singed carpet mixed with the nauseating rotten eggs smell.

  The creature snarled, jaws opening wider, and fiery wings exploded out from its back, easily a dozen feet long each, liquid fire dripping from the blazing feathers, burning into the floor of the stage. Then it fled, the thicker cloud below it suddenly carrying it into the wings of the theater.

  Temple cursed, rushing up beside us. “You okay?” he asked, suddenly staring down at me. His eyes flicked from Claire to me quickly, then off to where the creature had fled.

  “Yes,” I whispered, the pain racking me was slowly fading as the Demon drew further away.

  “Okay. Good. Was that you who took care of the other two?” he asked, sounding impressed, even if still glancing back to the stage every second or two. His eyes danced with a wild lust for pursuit. I mumbled a yes, relieved to see Claire breathing deeply, climbing to her knees beside me. “Well done. Sit tight. The bear fled, so you’re safe. I’ll be right back. Don’t leave. I want to make sure the Demon actually left.”

  I could tell that he was torn between going after the creature and staying here, but the fact that so many monsters had so blatantly revealed themselves let him know that his purchase was a lot more important than he had initially thought. After a moment of inner struggle, he left.

  I crawled to all fours, ignoring the pain like Roland had taught me, and tugged Claire the rest of the way to her feet. She had mostly recovered, at least enough to walk. She was still scared, but no longer physically restricted.

  “What are you doing? He told us to wai
t.”

  “Yeah. I don’t feel like doing that. We’re leaving. Now. I don’t know Temple, and we need to go tell Roland what happened. Maybe he’ll know what to do.”

  Claire studied the look in my eyes for a moment, shivered, and then nodded. Ready to flee, I hesitated at a sudden thought, and slowly turned. Then I dashed up to the stage, and grabbed an item, clutching it to my side. Claire simply shook her head, motioning for me to hurry.

  I didn’t bother with trying to find our jackets. One, because I didn’t want to waste time, but two, because I had left them under the name Church, so I had no fear of the police tracking us down later. We made quick time getting out of the building and to the street, seeing none of the monsters from earlier, but several injured people in torn evening wear huddled against the walls, sobbing and whimpering. Some of the bodies were motionless, severely injured or unconscious. I didn’t look too closely at them, assuming some were likely dead. Sirens blared nearby, no doubt on their way here. Dozens of people stood in the wet streets, staring at the theater in disbelief. Some even in clothes that implied they had been there, but most were the usual foot traffic asking the obvious attendees what the hell had happened. The reporter Nate had pushed was staring at the entrance, as if in shock. Her eyes locked onto us, recognizing us.

  Rather than being scooped up into an interview, I turned right to walk down the sidewalk. I guided Claire down the first alley, and we weakly jogged a couple streets over where Claire had parked her car. No one followed us. The black Jetta was like a breath of fresh air, and I realized I had been fearing to find monsters waiting for us, or cops wanting to ask questions. But, of course, no one knew us from Adam, and no one driving a Jetta could have afforded to go to the auction. Moments later, we were inside the car, Claire shivering in the passenger seat, staring ahead with dead eyes as tears streaked down her face. I hoped she was okay, but I couldn’t worry about her right now. I had to get us to safety first.

  My first day working for the church had been a failure.

  Chapter 16

  Roland listened in disbelief as I told him about the auction. Claire sat on the couch behind us, rubbing her neck where the vampire had grabbed her, eyes very distant, and she was shivering. I didn’t blame her. It would probably bruise, but the memory alone would be enough for her to shrink in on herself for a good long while. She had done better than she believed, and seeing her strength had allowed me to become stronger, gaining a foothold on my own fears.

  Roland had laughed out loud as I reached the part about my ruthless bidding tactics. He hadn’t been very pleased that Temple outbid me, but hadn’t seemed too surprised to hear that someone had, either. Almost as if to say it had been worth a shot. But the laughter ceased at hearing of the events following the bidding.

  “Who has the relic now?” he asked, snapping me back into the moment. The item I had taken from the stage sat on his lap.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Either that fire creature or Temple. I didn’t stick around to find out.” I discreetly pointed a thumb at Claire where she wouldn’t notice, and Roland nodded. But I felt guilty doing it, as if encouraging him to believe I would have stayed otherwise. Because that wasn’t true. I had been terrified. Just as terrified as Claire.

  “Even without her, you did right to run. I…” his eyes grew inward, thinking silent thoughts. “I didn’t anticipate an Agent of Hell or another wizard. Although I’m not surprised to hear it. I should have gone with you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “And died. That would have been so helpful.”

  He pinned me to my chair with a look, and although it was intimidating, he knew I was right. Still, I didn’t move from my chair.

  Then the rest of his words hit me. “Wait, an Agent of Hell?” I asked in a low hiss, my scalp tingling with anxiety. “The smoke thing was a Demon?”

  He nodded, face grim. “I shouldn’t have sent you into that. I thought—”

  “That I wouldn’t fuck up so badly,” I finished for him.

  He didn’t even blink at my curse. “No. Even I would have been ill prepared for such a night.”

  I frowned, wondering if he was lying to make me feel better, but thinking back on the night, I reconsidered. Perhaps he was being truthful. It had been one hell of a turnout, so to speak.

  “This man who thought he knew you. He was the first killed?”

  I nodded, feeling sick to my stomach. “He seemed to know the murderer. He was accusing him of something right before everything went to he—” I amended my words, “sideways.” Roland nodded, thinking as he scratched his chin, and then grimacing as he subconsciously tried to shift his leg under the blankets. He wasn’t a man to sit still for long periods.

  Claire had checked on him before zoning out, seeming to need the familiar routine actions to keep her from collapsing under her fright. His wounds were worse, almost as if infected. But after a few long minutes of study on a microscope that she pulled out of her bag, Claire had mumbled that something seemed to be holding back — even fighting — the infection. She had finally shrugged, saying she had done all that she could and that he needed his rest or he might lose the leg. Then she had stumbled over to the couch, and hadn’t spoken since.

  “A Demon,” I murmured, sipping a cup of tea in my hands. Roland grunted. “But how?” I continued, frustrated. “Shouldn’t Angels be taking care of stuff like that?”

  Roland met my eyes, watching me for a few moments, as if debating how much to tell me. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted as someone knocked on the door.

  Claire squeaked, tugging up a blanket around her knees, her hair spilling down around her shoulders at the sudden motion.

  I gave Roland a slow nod and climbed to my feet. “Who is it?” I called out, loud enough for them to hear me. It was late, and I wasn’t expecting visitors.

  “Nate Temple. But anyone who screws me out of a million dollars and then steals my book gets to call me Master,” he added with a mirthless chuckle.

  “Go away,” I said, glancing back at Roland, who was studying me curiously.

  “No,” he said, sounding amused at my response.

  I was about to threaten to call the cops when Roland spoke up. “Let him enter. I may not be able to stand, but Master Temple isn’t one to dismiss lightly…”

  I blinked at him in surprise. “You know him?”

  Roland was a few seconds in responding, and Temple knocked on the door, harder. “I’ve heard stories…” was all Roland said, staring at the door as if expecting Jesus or the Devil to walk through.

  I let out a frustrated sigh, not particularly eager about letting him in. Either he was going to yell at me for costing him money, or make fun of my attempt to hang out with grownups.

  But everyone had to pay the piper eventually. And I had taken the book as leverage against him in case he did manage to get the spear. I pulled the door open to see him standing there, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a takeout bag in the other. I frowned at the items, and he smiled politely.

  “Thought we might have a bit to talk about,” he said, striding past me into the room. “Thief.”

  He stopped dead at seeing Roland, shoulders suddenly flexing beneath his now disheveled suit coat. “Another wizard,” he muttered under his breath. I couldn’t tell if he sounded angry, alarmed, or intrigued.

  The gleam in his eyes made me think of all those emotions, if that was possible.

  “As long as it’s good wine,” I said, snatching the bottle from his unsuspecting hands and striding into the kitchen. It was then that I realized I wore only a long tee, hanging below mid-thigh, but not suitable for entertaining guests. I was too used to being around Roland and Claire. I could strut around naked for all Roland would be aware of. He had long ago given up on domesticating me. Probably because he quickly learned that the more he pressed, the harder I pressed back. So, I could have danced around topless and his gaze never would have strayed lower than my chin. Claire, of course, was my childhood friend, and
we had helped each other dress up for various events for decades. Like sisters.

  Still, I was suddenly glad Nate had brought wine.

  Because tonight promised to get interesting.

  Chapter 17

  I had poured everyone a glass of wine, except for Roland. He got a juice box. Because I freaking loved juice boxes. The ones my parents used to give me as a kid when I was well-behaved. Being a responsible adult, I had seen no reason to discontinue the reward system.

  Bad day? Juice box.

  Great day? Juice box.

  Sad? Juice box.

  Happy? Juice box.

  Bored? Juice box.

  My reward system wasn’t very complicated.

  Roland didn’t appreciate my offer. He must have had a shitty childhood, never earning rewards. That, or his parents had told him juice boxes are from the devil. Understandably, that neglected child had grown up to become a Shepherd as a result. To save the world from demonic people like me. Who loved juice boxes.

  “I have a question before we get into the details, and you give me my book back,” Nate said.

  Roland nodded.

  “Did tonight’s events have something to do with you three or is it something I did?”

  Roland let out a frustrated sigh. “It is my fault. I—”

  “Thank god,” Nate interrupted, and then took a deep swallow of wine. His eyes tracked the room, then studied each of our faces as if cataloging what he saw. “This is what that feels like…” he murmured to himself, as if having a revelation of some kind.

  Claire cocked her head, squinting at his words.

  He noticed, and shot her a dazzling smile. “You looked particularly elegant tonight. And you didn’t run screaming when you saw monsters,” he added, tapping a lip. “Tough broad,” he complimented. I blinked. From elegant to broad. He needed to use some of his money to learn manners. He turned away from Claire to study Roland, not seeming aware of the reaction he had caused. Because Claire was grinning from ear to ear, idly wiping a loose strand of hair from her face. I lifted an eyebrow at her, silently chastising her. She quickly took a sip of her wine, hiding her embarrassment.