Whispers

by Shayne Silvers

  Thirty minutes later, we were back at Roland’s apartment. We found no signs of tampering with the lock, and nothing had been disturbed inside. This had been a growing fear of Roland’s – that they would check the apartment.

  Roland retrieved his stash of blood and pounded each bag like he was at a frat party with cheap beer. I stared in disbelief and he averted his eyes in shame, lowering the last empty bag. I took two steps closer, holding out my hand with a sad look and he flinched away. I scowled and stormed the rest of the way, jerking him around to face me.

  “I wasn’t pitying you, Roland. Or judging you. I was surprised to see you were so thirsty. If I had known you were that desperate, I might not have taken things so far in the car.”

  His eyes flashed crimson, but he blinked it away and took a cautious step back. “It’s close, Callie. Very close. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. All the stress of the last few hours taxed me. I thought I was going to have to go in there, kill my friends, and rescue you and the girls before I turned into a monster – consequences be damned.”

  I shook my head sadly as he sat down. “You’re not going to become a monster, Roland. Did Haven look like a monster?”

  He sniffed angrily. “Haven is a Master Vampire,” he snapped.

  I let that sink in for a moment, watching as he panted in frustration. Lamenting, or whatever it was that vampires did when depressed. Then it hit him, and his eyes shot up to mine.

  I nodded, grinning. “Yep.”

  He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it, thinking furiously. He finally turned back to me. “I drank blood from a Master Vampire…” he said, sounding astounded that he hadn’t considered it before.

  Drinking from a Master Vampire didn’t guarantee anything, but it sure as hell put Roland on the fast track for becoming stronger than the typical vampire. “And you still have your magic.”

  He focused, not wanting to risk using it and setting off whatever wards the Shepherds had in place, but trying to feel it deep within himself. A smile split his cheeks as he whispered, “Yes.”

  “But none of that matters if we die here,” I reminded him. He nodded, regaining some of his usual confidence and air of command. We spent the next ten minutes chatting back and forth, going over the details in a clinical manner, but came up with nothing helpful.

  One thing we decided was that we couldn’t leave town – even if for only a few minutes – to get more blood from Haven. We had the ability to Shadow Walk or make a Gateway anywhere in the world – to simply run. But the wards in Rome would let the Shepherds know in an instant.

  And our act would condemn the girls to death and put a price on our heads. Maybe not a price, but at least a big fat question mark. Especially when we didn’t return to our usual duties in Kansas City. Because Roland would have issues stepping foot on Holy Ground after becoming a vampire, unless he succeeded in keeping Haven’s amulet.

  And we estimated that he would have to kill someone and drink their blood within the next twelve hours. We would flee Italy leaving two werewolves to die for a murder they didn’t commit, leave the traitor in power in the Conclave, and leave behind a bloodless body.

  Running would make us look like guilty criminals. And it would only be a matter of time before we were hunted down by the full might and power of the Conclave Shepherds.

  But our backs were against the wall. The girls had their trial tomorrow, and it wasn’t looking like Roland could last that long before needing to kill his first victim and drink their blood.

  For the once-Shepherd to murder someone in cold blood.

  But even before that, Roland needed more blood to sustain him, or he wouldn’t even make it that long. We were running out of time.

  “You know what we have to do, right?” I asked. Roland’s eyes glinted crimson as he gave me a resigned nod. “We’ve run out of time. We have to break them out.”

  “The one place they told you not to go… I don’t think I can join you. Being around a wolf right now might bring out my… monster,” he said in a restrained growl.

  And maybe it would. We just didn’t know. Wolves and vampires didn’t typically get along well, and a new vampire didn’t typically get along with anyone. Let alone two frightened, imprisoned, new-ish werewolves. It could be a bloodbath. We would never break them out if their inner monsters decided to rely on instinct over a familiar face. The break-out was on me.

  To do the one thing I had been warned not to do. But we had nothing to lose. Soon, either the girls would be executed and the traitor would win, or we would manage to save the day. But either way, Roland and I would lose, forced to sever all ties with the Vatican.

  We might as well go out with a blast.

  Roland had spent twenty minutes going over the details of my target. He was familiar with the building itself, but cautioned that upgrades to security were likely, and he had no way to advise me in that. He gave me the breakdown of the security from his time living here, but we both knew it was a long shot thinking that they hadn’t upgraded. Technology became outdated after only a few years nowadays. Worst case, I would huff and puff and blow the walls down with my Angel magic, grab the girls, and Shadow Walk on the spot. We could interrogate the wolves in safety, far away from the Vatican, and come back with our evidence.

  If we cared to, since we would have severed all ties to them anyway.

  As if approving of my plan, I heard the Whispers starting up in the back of my mind. As I found myself listening, and almost understanding them, I walled them off with a shaky breath.

  Roland didn’t notice, too focused on the last-minute details of the plan.

  We left the apartment and I called a local car service to take me back to the hotel. Roland was off to find a late-night butcher and see how difficult it was to find some blood. Even a little would help sustain him. We needed to keep him human as long as possible before he was forced to murder someone. He had expressed hopes that he could mitigate this crime by drinking the blood from whoever was behind all of this, but we weren’t even close to finding that person yet.

  Which meant Roland would soon have to kill a stranger, completing his shift to vampire.

  If I was able to succeed in my task, we needed Roland as in control as possible when he reunited with the wolves as we fled Italy together. Either that or I would leave Roland behind – per his request – as I took the wolves to safety. Anywhere far away from the Vatican.

  Our only hope was that if I succeeded, the wolves might know the true identity of the real killer, and that they had been holding out on telling anyone at the Conclave because it was someone high up, and they knew acknowledging the killer would guarantee their execution.

  To put it mildly, the level of loyalty and strength the two girls had shown was astounding. They had chosen to hold their heads high and walk calmly to the gallows.

  Or they were hoping for their white knight, Roland Haviar, to save them.

  Little did they know he had become a Prince of Blood.

  The only human part of him remaining was his honor. At least for now…

  I hoped they would settle for a white-haired, irrational wizard with Angel’s blood coursing through her veins. I didn’t think they’d be picky about their savior.

  Chapter 45

  I hid behind a statue of a Saint. I didn’t bother to check which one it was, but I hoped it was the Patron Saint of Thieves, since I was about to rob the Conclave blind. The night was dark and full of Callie. I wore all black, having tossed on a black jacket from my bag rather than wear the white one. I had considered stealing a Sister’s Habit, but that was beyond me. Unless I had to. I also hadn’t seen any proof that a Sister could get any closer to the make-shift prison than I could, so had dismissed the option.

  A nagging thought kept whispering in my ears, that the theft had to be tied to the murder. The events were too closely linked to be anything else. And if they were connected, the thief was still present. He or she wouldn’t leave until the wolves
were executed.

  I scanned my immediate surroundings and saw no one walking near enough to see me. I had only seen one guard patrolling the building ahead, but there was every chance that a few more stood out front—

  My phone rang, scaring the living shit out of me. I answered it in a panic, anything to get the cursed ringing to stop.

  “What?” I hissed, eyes flicking up to my surroundings rather than checking the caller’s name. The patrolling guard had rounded the corner and was no longer in sight.

  “Hey, Callie-Pie!” Claire giggled, followed by a loud hiccup.

  Sweet demon nipples. A drunk dial? Now? of all times!

  “Callie!” she shouted louder, as if I hadn’t heard her. I almost dropped the phone at the drunken shriek – the mating cry of the sorority woo girl known to all frat boys worldwide.

  “Now isn’t a good time—” I hissed, but she interrupted me.

  “I j-just—” Loud background noise interrupted her – a man arguing loudly. “Oh, shut up Beckett,” she shouted back, followed by another hicca-giggle.

  My vision pulsed red. You’ve got to be shitting me, I thought to myself, seriously considering murder when I returned home. She was drunk dialing me after a night out with Beckett?!

  She came back on before I could hang up, take out my battery, and stomp on the device. “We had a few drinks and I w-wanted to call an Uber,” she managed between more hiccups.

  I took a measured breath. “Sure. Whatever. Use my card. I have to go,” I hissed.

  “Luuuuuuuuurrrvvee you!” she drawled, and I hung up the phone, panting heavily.

  Drunk. With Beckett. I didn’t’ have time for jealousy. Fine. They wanted to get drunk together? Fine. None of my business. Fine.

  Just fine.

  A distant, rational part of me appreciated that she had called first before using my card for an Uber, but I really wished she hadn’t. Because then I could have remained in ignorant bliss, not having to think about her on a date while I risked my life to break some werewolves out of a wizard prison. I wondered why Claire wanted to pay rather than Beckett, but quickly tried to cut off that line of inquiry. I was flamingly unsuccessful.

  Neither of them needed money. Hell, I needed money more than either of them, so I knew it must have been an emergency of some kind. They needed my help. To go home drunk together.

  I was so distracted, I just stared down at my shadow, not finding anything strange about the two shadows suddenly growing from the shoulders of my shadow on the ground. Something stabbed into my side. I grunted, my mind clearing in an instant at the blinding flash of pain.

  I managed to roll away from a second slash of a glinting blade, throwing up my hands defensively. The blade tore through my jacket, slicing my forearm. I hissed, ignoring the blood leaking from my flesh. I crouched in a defensive stance, staring at my adversaries for the first time. They were male, medium build, and wore black long-sleeve shirts, black jeans, and black shoes designed for stealth – not boots. They also wore dirty pale scarves with a red cross on the front hanging down from above their nose to the top of their chests, leaving their eyes and shaggy dark hair visible. Blue eyes and brown eyes. That’s the only thing that distinguished them.

  No one I had met at the Vatican had similar hair, a distant part of me cursed. Hired muscle.

  Then I recognized the scarf, and my stomach lurched. Constantine’s killer had worn one.

  One of them used my distraction to dart in, swinging both arms in precise, professional swipes. I dodged, danced, and tried to block, but received two slashes on my arms. He danced back as my fingers almost tore out his throat beneath the scarf, and I heard a low laugh.

  I needed to hurry before blood loss cost me this fight.

  They didn’t look like the guard I had seen at the prison only a dozen yards away or I would have thrown my hands up in surrender. And they had introduced themselves by stabbing me and slashing me several times with their daggers. Not very nice of them, and I wasn’t the kind of gal who turned the other cheek.

  I squared off, and even though I couldn’t see their mouths, I knew they were smiling, either in recognition or anticipation of a fun fight. They began to circle me in practiced coordination, proving they were familiar working as a pair. I didn’t dare use magic because it would have triggered alarms all over the place, bringing every Shepherd within a mile – where they would find me in black in the one place they had told me not to visit. Hell, the wards on the Vatican might just freeze the three of us in place and we would all be tossed in jail as accomplices.

  The only difference between our outfits was their scarves.

  One look into their eyes told me they would have no problem becoming martyrs, and that the only words they would utter upon capture were that I worked with them. And from our similar clothing, that accusation would stick. I needed to end this silently. They had obviously come for the girls, to finish them off. But why now? The trial was tomorrow morning, and they were basically already proven guilty.

  My attackers hadn’t resorted to magic either, which meant they were Regulars or knew about the wards. If they had attacked with magic, I would have defended myself with magic. But they hadn’t. But the man who had murdered Constantine hadn’t been harmed by his magic, and he had seemed very fast. Not unnaturally so, but worthy of caution.

  The other one darted in, lunging with his blade to test me. I batted at his wrist instinctively, like Roland had taught me, knocking his dagger free. I almost missed his partner jumping closer in an attempt to break my spine with a kick. But I arched my back and hit his thigh with an elbow, aiming for a pressure point. He chuckled throatily as he shook off the pain, dipping his head at me in approval. I swept up the fallen dagger, baring my teeth at him. I wanted to catch these punks and dump them in front of the Conclave myself, proving my credibility, and saving the wolves.

  I feinted an aggressive flurry of swipes at brown eyes, reading their response. As expected, his blue-eyed partner lunged forward, but I was ready for it this time. I swung my knife at his face and managed to slice off his scarf. As it fell to the ground, I struggled to make out his features as he darted backwards into the shadows. Which meant I didn’t see the kick from his partner as it clipped my jaw, almost knocking me out. Stars sparkled as my vision swirled, and then another kick caught me in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of me as I fell.

  He kicked me three more times, and all I could do was curl up as I tried to catch my breath and steady my vision. I felt a sudden movement and tensed for another blow, preparing myself to grab his boot and yank him off balance.

  But nothing happened. Then I noticed it. Shouting. I sat up, hissing as liquid fire trailed down my ribs and forearms from the knife wounds. My attackers were gone, but I spotted the scarf I had cut away from blue eyes near my feet. I winced as I scooted closer, finally swiping the ragged fabric off the ground with bloody fingers. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth as I tried to take a deeper breath. It didn’t feel like the stab had torn a vital organ, but I needed to get it checked out just in case. I clamped a hand over it, resigned to my position as I struggled again to draw a full breath. There was no way I could escape, hobbling with cracked or broken ribs and leaking blood all over the place. They would see me from a mile away.

  Without a sound, Roland was suddenly kneeling over me. I blinked in disbelief, almost shouting in surprise as I stared into his crimson eyes. His face was drawn and haggard and he looked to be struggling to ignore the blood covering me. Because part of him wanted to lick it up. He looked both disgusted at that idea, and like a junkie fighting a quick fix.

  But the part of Roland that I knew best recognized that his student had been injured and was now bleeding out in the grass. Luckily, that part of him won.

  “Assassins,” I wheezed, holding out the scarf. I didn’t even bother to ask how he had snuck back in to the Vatican grounds. He was obviously using his vampire powers, which was not good at all. Especially with me covered in
blood. Which was why I was trying to distract him with the scarf. Give him a familiar task. Hope it beat his instinctive craving.

  He took a big whiff as the sound of pounding feet neared. “I can track them,” he whispered lighter than the breeze. And then he was just gone. I didn’t even hear his clothing rustle. I quickly shoved the scarf in my pocket. I didn’t want to give up the only real evidence we had found. I remained still as the shouting and footsteps grew closer, hoping my white hair would let the Shepherds recognize me as not an immediate threat.

  Crispin rounded the corner of the prison, sword out and face grim. He spotted me, snarled, and hurried my way. He stared down at me, face a mix of emotions, but predominantly angry. Then he noticed my wound. He helped me up, glaring out at the surrounding night for danger.

  “What happened?” he growled, not looking at me.

  “Assassins,” I groaned, telling him the same thing I had told Roland a second ago. “Wearing all black.” I didn’t mention the scarf, just in case any of the Shepherds were in on it. “I didn’t get a look at their faces, but I tried.”

  He scanned the area more cautiously at this bit of news, but it was apparent they were long gone. “Damnit, Callie,” he cursed. “What the hell am I supposed to do now? It’s obvious you weren’t just out on an evening stroll, dressed all in black,” Crispin snarled at me just as Windsor and Fabrizio rounded the corner of the prison behind him, spotting us.

  “How did you find me?” I asked, accepting his help to get to my feet. I kept my hand clamped over the wound and still held my dagger at my side, trying to look non-threatening.

  “Your room was empty, and we knew you had returned from the city earlier. There was only one place we told you not to go, so when we couldn’t find you or Roland in the obvious places we decided to come here.”

  I nodded tiredly, opening my mouth to explain.

  He cut me off. “We found two dead guards at the prison entrance or we would have been here sooner. Someone tried to break in…” he glared down at my bloody dagger and I groaned in disbelief at the silent accusation.