Unchained: Feathers and Fire Book 1

by Shayne Silvers

  I was in danger.

  The person running towards me cursed, but didn’t slow.

  I whirled, unfolding from my crouch, swinging the blackened chains in a wide swooping arc as the figure came within striking distance, or what I hoped was striking distance.

  The ground seemed to tremble and I heard someone screaming.

  It was me.

  No one knew I was here. No one living, anyway. Just that shadow in the distance, racing closer to steal my soul. The other Demon. Amira. Johnathan’s sister.

  Not today.

  The chains unfurled like living serpents, crackling with an otherworldly white light that tugged at my memory. I brought my arms above my head, tips of the chains sizzling the earth where they had rested, and then, as I faced my foe — that shadowy, sneaking creature — I brought my hands down, ready to slice through Amira as I had her Demon brother, Johnathan.

  My chains screamed through the still air, hungry to taste another Demon.

  And I saw a startled face.

  That face…

  Like a boulder at the top of a mountain, eyes like the depths of a green ocean.

  Nate Temple.

  His face shifted to resignation, and he brought up his own whips, crackling with similar white, destructive power, slicing up from his hips to meet mine falling down from above.

  I readied myself for death, unable to stop the expected explosion. Magic didn’t mix well. This place was about to be blighted from existence as if it had never been.

  Our whips and chains touched, latching together like magnets, white light building, growing, ready to destroy the world, break it, and rebuild anew in the space of time it would take to say Let there be light!

  But the moment my chains and his whips crossed, latching together, he yanked me towards him, shattering the steel of my whips into an infinite explosion of steel chips, white-hot metal — or whatever the chains had been made of — buffeting the grass in a downpour of fire. His whips also extinguished.

  But no shrapnel struck me as I flew towards him.

  Our chests struck without pain, and we stood in a charred circle. My cuffs were gone.

  I panted, but not from exhaustion, from… something else. My knees quivered, fighting against the strange sensation, and I could see in his eyes that he fought the same silent battle.

  He pinned me in place with those raptor eyes, the sunrise the only light, now, our weapons broken, or extinguished, possibly cancelling each other out. His eyes flickered to my forehead, a quizzical squint flashing across his face as if he wanted to touch that skin, but then the look disappeared. He grasped my wrists, as if fighting to restrain me, to not let me go. I realized that he had not yanked me closer to him, but that I had yanked him towards me.

  The tips of my exposed breasts pressed against the muscles hidden beneath his soft, thin t-shirt, and his coat whipped back at the wind from the cliff only a pace behind me.

  My lips trembled, tingled, my heart racing both in fright at the cliff behind me, and the intensity of the man before me. I felt his heartbeat hammering against my chest, even from so light a contact. He dipped his head closer, and I smelled a faint aroma of black licorice and herbs, but I recognized it. Absinthe. He had been drinking not long ago, but his eyes were clear, not inebriated.

  The scent was pleasant. Like that of my dad’s aftershave. Comforting. Secure. Safe.

  I suddenly wanted to taste it. Desperately so.

  As if sharing the desire, his lips touched mine, but as softly as the whisper of a butterfly’s wing. A light breeze. Not a kiss, but a microscopic caress, almost unnoticeable. Even at that faint a touch, my lips erupted with inner flame, and I began to shake, wanting to devour his mouth. My tongue tingled, numbing my mouth, thirsting…

  A car horn honked, and my heart exploded in panic as I jumped away, releasing his hands as my breath left me, my eyes darting wildly.

  My foot fell on empty air, and I began to fall.

  I saw Nate snarl as he grabbed the waist of my bloody leggings with one strong hand while his other hand flashed out with a whip of white fire to one of the wooden crosses behind him. The whip latched around it like the tentacle of an octopus, and his arm muscles flexed beneath his jacket, stressing the fabric as he used the whip to yank me back to safety. Either he pulled too hard, or the whip held too much power, because we both flew into a tangled heap on the scorched earth.

  The earth smelled like flowers for some bizarre reason, even though it was burned away.

  I was on top of him, staring into those green eyes that flickered faintly with white fire like distant lightning in his brain. I had never seen that before in his eyes.

  Then the car horn honked again, and I jumped off of him. He cursed under his breath, climbing to his feet. “I’m going to kill her,” he muttered. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

  I stared in the distance to see the Yukon XL flashing lights at us, a familiar blonde face grinning frantically as she waved to get our attention. “Claire,” I whispered in relief. I smiled, waving back, and saw my wrists for the first time. They were scarred where the manacles had been. Not fresh wounds or crusted blood, but white scars as if they had happened, and healed, years ago.

  “She was very persistent. Said she got jumped on her way home, in the alley behind her house, but managed to chase them away with her mace. Has a few scratches where they tried to yank her watch off, but she’s fine. Moody as all hell when we couldn’t find you, though,” he added, chuckling. He took off his coat and wrapped it around my shoulders delicately. He held up a long white hair. One of mine. “I’ve been trying to track you for hours, but the spell wouldn’t stick. We drove all over town, searching. Even threatened the bears and vampires.” He smiled. “Then it just reacted all of a sudden.” I nodded, remembering Johnathan saying he had blocked this place. He must have blocked Nate’s spell.

  Nate studied me. “Which one was the Demon?” he asked softly.

  “Johnathan,” I whispered.

  He blinked, having expected a woman like I had. “I’m sorry, Callie.”

  I shrugged under the coat, wrapping it tighter around me. “Someone else was here, too. At the end. I think it was a girl named Amira. Johnathan said she was his sister.”

  Nate scanned the surroundings, but seeing no threat, sighed. “We’ll take care of her. Later. I’m sorry about Gabriel,” he continued, glancing up at the blonde man. “Father David prayed in the hospital. Gabriel answered, scaring the hell out of him. He sent Gabriel to watch over you…” His eyes took in Gabriel on the cross again, and I saw his shoulders sag. “That’s going to hurt Claire.”

  I flinched, suddenly disgusted with myself for not considering the dead men yet.

  “Callie, wait!” Nate shouted as I ran to my dad, wanting to see his face one last time.

  I looked up, and stopped cold.

  A dead stranger stared down at me. I backed up two steps, not understanding. My eyes flicked to Roland only to see another stranger.

  I spun behind me to find the Nephilim, Gabriel. He was as I remembered… I shook my head. “No, no, no…” I whispered, panicking, not understanding.

  The shock took the last bit of energy from me, and I fell, spiraling into darkness, listening to Nate shout my name. It felt nice.

  Chapter 48

  I felt like I was floating, flying.

  “She’s going to kill me. You understand that, right?” a low voice said, seeming to echo.

  “Maybe,” a woman said. “But she’ll thank you afterwards.” She sounded familiar… “Why is it fading?”

  The low voice grunted. “No idea.” A pause. “You okay?”

  “I hardly knew him, but…”

  Silence. “Sometimes that’s worse,” the low voice said gently, sounding heartfelt.

  I slowly opened my eyes to see that Nate was carrying me in his arms, giving me a chance to stare at him unobserved. His eyes were hard, as if preparing to walk to the gallows. We were in a familiar elevator.
The hotel. I saw Claire’s reflection in the golden wall. She looked anxious, shifting from foot to foot.

  “Take me home, you… uncouth playboy. Or I will kill you.” I grumbled, throat sore.

  Claire gasped, suddenly leaning over me, crying, brushing my hair back.

  “Home is where the heart is, or so I’ve heard,” Nate said, grinning as he glanced down at me.

  “My heart is not here, Nate. I—”

  The elevator door opened, and I heard a gasp from beyond the opening. Then I was yanked from Nate’s arms to be carried by someone else. I stared up in confusion as the room spun.

  And then I saw my dad smiling down on me.

  I began to cry, overwhelmed. Big, heaving, ugly sobs. Tears painted my dad’s cheeks as he carried me deeper into the penthouse, and then set me down on the couch. He wiped away my tears, smiling as he shook his head. “It’s okay, Callie. Everything is fine.”

  “The piano isn’t,” I heard Nate complain. I saw Claire punch him. He looked surprised, rubbing his shoulder.

  “How?” I whispered, turning back to my dad. Was I dreaming right now? Or had tonight been a nightmare?

  “He saved us, Callie. Both of us,” he whispered, squeezing my legs. He jerked his chin and I followed the motion.

  Roland stood there, leaning on crutches, smiling at me proudly.

  “The wards,” I said, feeling numb. They were both alive. That wasn’t possible. I had seen them die.

  “He’s crafty, I’ll give him that,” Roland muttered, but he was smiling at… Nate, of all people. And another man I hadn’t noticed. The older gentleman I had seen on the roof. Hemingway.

  I locked eyes with him, and felt an instant kinship. Maybe that was what my dad had seen in him. The man smiled back at me, eyes crinkling. “Nate had me hide them where they couldn’t be found.” The two men shivered at that for some reason, and Hemingway chuckled. “Nate knew that the wards would draw the Demon out. Why make a fortress if not to defend something valuable? Once I saw you return to the roof after the bears, I scooped them up, taking them to safety.” He glanced at Nate. “I’m still not sure how the Demon broke through the wards, or how none of you sensed him if he was so close to you, though.” Nate shrugged, looking frustrated at the questions, but having no answers. Hemingway turned back to me. “Please don’t be upset with him. Nate always does the right thing. Even when you tell him not to. I hope you forgive him for his deceit, and understand his reasoning for doing so. Even though it went against your wishes.” His grin split even wider. “When you saw me talking to Nate on the roof before the bears, I thought for sure that you had found out his plan,” he chuckled.

  I didn’t look at Nate. “Then… who were the men on the crosses?”

  “Two thieves, ironically…” Hemingway said. I frowned. He seemed to understand the deeper significance of his answer. Two thieves crucified on either side of me. He had disguised them to look like Roland and my dad. That was why Johnathan had spun around during his ritual, glaring at them. He must not have noticed it until they died.

  “Who are you?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Some call me Hemingway…” He glanced at Nate, arching a brow in question. Nate shrugged in answer. “But you may call me Death.”

  Roland shivered, looking extremely uncomfortable. No wonder. I just stared. My dad was simply grinning, the most comfortable man in the room at hearing the news. He leaned closer to me, whispering, and I heard Death chuckle in amusement. “He let me see mom, Callie. I got to see Sarah again.” His eyes were nostalgic, full of love. “She was so beautiful…”

  I bit back a sob of envy. That… was the nicest thing I could fathom. And Death had given it to him. In order to prove he was one of the good guys.

  “Thank you,” I whispered softly, unable to offer more. Death merely shrugged with a deep smile, but his eyes did dart to Nate thoughtfully. Nate shook his head once, and Death relented.

  Nate had saved… my two fathers. Going against my wishes. The conversation between he and Claire in the elevator almost made me smile now that I understood it.

  I turned to Claire. “I’m so sorry, sweetie…” she smiled sadly, eyes teary, idly rubbing her arms before her chest. She had lost Gabriel. A man sent to watch over me, but I believed that his interest in Claire had been more than just a job. I had no proof of this, but it felt right.

  “I’ve booked the room for a week. Death and I must be leaving, though. We have… things to do. In St. Louis. We can talk about everything… later. When you are ready. I think we all have questions, but I think family is more important.” Again, his eyes shifted to Death, who nodded in answer to an unspoken question.

  I nodded. “Thank you, Nate.”

  Roland sighed and handed Claire a five-dollar-bill. She grinned, accepting it. I frowned at her. “He bet me you wouldn’t say thank you. Maybe later, but not tonight.” Roland shrugged. I just rolled my eyes, leaning back.

  I had much to think about, much to discuss, and much to learn.

  About myself. About Kansas City. And about the Bible.

  But first, family.

  Claire clapped her hands. “I’m starving, and I think Callie could use some food. Follow me, you hairy lumps,” Claire said to Roland and my dad. They obeyed, leaving me on the couch, Death and Nate standing against the wall.

  They nodded at me. A silent nod of approval. Then they turned to leave, but I called out to Nate. He slowed, but Death continued on towards the elevator. I could hear clanging pots and pans from the kitchen, and Claire barking off orders to her new minions.

  Nate approached, kneeling down before me hesitantly.

  “You came through for me. Not in the way I thought, but in the way that mattered,” I said.

  “I always knew you could take care of yourself,” he said, smiling. He waited for a moment, defenses down. There was a question in his eyes, left unspoken, a memory of our near kiss. I didn’t acknowledge it. He slowly stood, the moment gone.

  “We need to get the spear to the Vatican,” I said, suddenly remembering, and knowing I was in no condition to get up and do it on my own for a few more days.

  He frowned, looking disturbed. “There was no spear, Callie. I checked everywhere.”

  An icy fist gripped my chest. Had Amira taken it after I passed out? Had it been destroyed?

  Noticing the look on my face, he held out a hand. “I warded the place. You and Roland can go check it out once you’re better.” His eyes looked troubled, but I found myself happy that he had said you not we. He was confident enough in me to look into the spear on my own. “We’ll talk. Soon. Some stuff is going down in my neck of the woods that could affect you guys here. But for now, rest up.” He turned back to the elevator, stepping in beside Death. Before the doors closed, he met my eyes. “Tell your dad he can keep the car. The color of a real baseball team,” he added, eyes twinkling.

  Then the doors closed. I was smiling. My dad hated the St. Louis Cardinals. Typical Nate. Honey and a stick. Gift and a curse.

  A noble asshole.

  Chapter 49

  I stepped out of the shower, breathing in the thick clouds of steam. It had felt as good as sex to me, relaxing tightened muscles, washing away the blood and filth. Even though I had to hold the wall at first for support. I was still weak. Especially after nibbling on the food Claire had prepared. I had pulled Roland aside to tell him that we need to talk later. I wanted to know about the scars covering his chest.

  But I also told him about the mole in the Vatican. He promised to look into it. Immediately.

  They hadn’t pressed me on my ordeal, for which I was eternally grateful, because all I had wanted was a shower and some rest. We had the room for a week, Nate had said, and I intended to take full advantage of it, living the high life while I rested up.

  And pondered the events of the night.

  I toweled off, smiling as the fabric brushed my breasts, my mind drifting to Nate.

  I shook my head and finished, drying my hai
r as best as I could without a blow dryer. I saw one on the counter, but the task sounded exhausting, like work.

  I opened the door, not bothering with the robe, and darted into the bedroom. A single lamp lit the room in a soothing glow, and the door was closed. I dove under the covers of Nate’s bed, tugging them up over me to trap in the heat from the shower. I didn’t have any clean clothes anyway, so I would sleep in the nude.

  Questions flickered through my mind. What was I? A wizard? A Nephilim? Both? Johnathan had mentioned something about another power, but that I didn’t have a patron. But… there had been the thing with the feather. The drop of Angel’s blood. I was confident in my guess on that. It felt right. I knew it had been an Angel’s feather as strongly as I knew I controlled magic.

  And why had Nate’s whips looked so similar to my chains. That white light.

  The strange words I had shouted came back to me at the thought of Nate’s whips.

  He’s coming! The fifth one rides. On hooves of fire with whips of Hope…

  I shuddered.

  Tonight wasn’t the time to ask myself anymore why questions.

  I rolled over onto my side, reaching to adjust the pillow.

  And found two strange things underneath. I pulled them out.

  A stuffed unicorn and a book. The unicorn from my apartment — freshly laundered and smelling of lavender — and the book Nate had bought from the auction.

  I knew he had stolen it from my apartment! I thought, smiling to myself.

  I opened the book and found a formal invitation on a thick card. It was for dinner at a place called Chateau Falco in St. Louis with Nate and his friends. Not just Nate. I laughed giddily, tucking it back into the book. Even though I was interested, I didn’t bother flipping through the book to see why he had bought it. I had a week to do that kind of stuff, lounging around in Nate’s bed.

  I blushed at the thought. Sans Nate.

  I slid the book to the other side of the bed and pressed the unicorn to my neck. Then I began to reach for the light, noticing the scars on my wrist from the manacles. They looked old, not fresh. Something I had done had caused the Angel’s blood to merge with me, granting me the power to break my chains when my magic couldn’t…