Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2

by Shayne Silvers

  “I told him to watch the door,” I said. “What if your informant was leading you into a trap?”

  He grimaced, apparently not having considered it. “Okay.”

  It also made me feel better to know we were no longer evenly matched. If this was a trap – for me – Claire and I could handle Alyksandre ourselves before taking on Kevin.

  “How do you want to play this, Alyksandre?” I whispered. “If I toss up some light, we might scare any… inhabitants.”

  His eyes were very tight. “We won’t need light,” he whispered back, sounding troubled. Then he was leading us into the darkness.

  Claire gripped my arm as I passed her. “There are lights ahead. And I can smell people. This place hasn’t been empty in recent months…”

  My eyes might have widened at that. We were about thirty feet underground. Had we actually found something nefarious? Who the hell lived underground? My mind, unfortunately, provided me with all sorts of unpleasant answers.

  Feathers…

  Fire…

  I froze, unable to breathe for a moment. The Whispers were back. Obviously, no one else had heard. But what had their comments meant? Feathers? Fire? And why had it sounded like two different voices this time? Maybe it was the same Whisper, just angrier when it said Fire.

  I shivered, keeping a tight rein on the voices as I followed Alyksandre and Claire deeper into the cavern. I smelled fresh dirt, obviously. And damp rocks. Like you would expect in a cave. But I soon smelled burning candles. And… herbs? Some kind of incense, maybe?

  And a pale-yellow light from up ahead began to illuminate the walls around us. We were in a stone tunnel. I was careful to watch my step, not wanting an echo to alert anyone who might be ahead of us. Obviously, candles meant people. I doubted anyone would leave a bunch of candles burning unless they were still here. Whoever was using this place would likely use a flashlight on the way, and only use the candles while spending time here.

  Which indicated we were about to interrupt someone.

  Alyksandre held up a fist, silently telling us to stop. We did, watching as he lifted a finger one by one, and then we dashed around the corner at three.

  I ran laterally so we weren’t lined up like dominos, my black fan hovering before me as I prepared to launch some of my silver butterflies at any sign of a threat. A large open area yawned before us, dark gray rock covering walls that stretched up thirty feet or higher. No one attacked us. In fact, no one else was present. I turned to see Claire holding both pistols up, aimed into the cavern, waiting for someone to say hello.

  Great mounds of melted wax dotted the perimeter of the cavern, not in a perfect circle or anything, but spaced far enough apart to illuminate the whole area. Wicks burned atop the masses of candles, letting me know that this place had been used for a very long time – at least at one point in time.

  And those early inhabitants were either still around, or someone had discovered this place and brought it back to life. Alyksandre glanced at me, jaw tight. “I don’t like this…”

  “I never like things like this, but I usually check them out anyway,” I muttered. “Now that we’ve broken in, we should probably look around while we have the chance. They’re probably going to know that someone invaded their secret hideout, and will update their security. Now is probably our best and only chance.”

  He nodded stiffly. “Be wary. Something is wrong with this place…”

  Claire was nodding to herself warily, but didn’t offer her thoughts. When a shifter acts nervous, it’s smart to pay attention. Predator instincts, and all that. I kept my magic close, breathing through the scarf.

  We split up to circle the room. I saw cots carved into the rock wall near one of the candlewax mounds, and some dirty, aged blankets. Maybe we had found a homeless camp. Or maybe we were interrupting an archaeological dig site, although I didn’t see any modern equipment. No extension cords, stand lamps, papers, electronics, or magazines. Like we had stumbled upon a hideout from the Middle Ages or something.

  Alyksandre was inspecting the sleeping area so I focused on the opposite side. What looked like worn steps led up to a small nook in the wall, where a few more candles illuminated some items arranged in a specific manner, like a shrine. I frowned, walking closer to study it, but a sickening feeling suddenly rolled over me.

  The focal point was a human skull formed into a cup or bowl, and as I stepped closer, I noticed a red stain in the base. I shivered, eyes sliding away to scan over several ancient golden coins, two badges, and an old broken dagger in the niche. One of the coins featured a worn depiction of two men riding a single horse.

  I turned to call out to Alyksandre, my eyes sweeping the entire area out of habit. My voice cut off as I spotted a symbol carved into the wall about ten feet up, so large and worn that I hadn’t noticed it until I was on the opposite side of the cavern.

  I recognized it, but my brain sort of rebooted for a few seconds, not understanding – or wanting to understand – exactly what this place was doing here in Kansas City, Missouri.

  That’s when the winged man swept down from the ceiling.

  Claire started blasting with both pistols, not bothering with any pleasantries or warnings.

  Chapter 12

  The echoing gunshots were painfully loud in the enclosed space, making my ears ring, but I was too busy staring in disbelief at their effect to worry about protecting my eardrums. The figure wrapped his wings around his body and slammed into the ground in a crouch that cracked the floor. Then he whipped his gray wings – made of vaporish smoke and floating chunks of ice – wide, and a ring of force knocked Claire on her ass, cutting off her barrage of gunfire.

  A tall, dark-haired, winged man stood before us, wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and a plaid button up complete with pearl buttons. I blinked.

  The Angel of country music?

  More like the Angel of twang, pickup trucks, and cheap beer. And I really hated country music.

  The winged cowboy glared at us. “How dare you attack—”

  “He must be Fallen!” Alyksandre bellowed, eyes wild.

  Claire was climbing back to her feet, and I could tell that she was contemplating shifting into her bear form until she heard that little Fallen tidbit. Fallen… Angel? What the hell had we stumbled on down here to warrant a Fallen Angel for security?

  “Claire!” I shouted, snapping her out of her hesitation. “Go tell Kevin we need reinforcements! Now!”

  With a last scowl at the Fallen Angel, she scampered off. I didn’t have time to get the old brain working, because Alyksandre was suddenly rushing the winged man with his sword raised. He began spinning and slashing like a miniature tornado. The Fallen Angel’s eyes widened in momentary surprise, but he moved like a ribbon of silk in the wind, always just out of reach. Feeling highly uncomfortable with the idea of attacking the supposed Fallen Angel – because I really didn’t have any proof, and he hadn’t necessarily done anything to hurt us, yet – I flung out my hand, and dozens of silver butterflies swept out in a swarm.

  They struck the winged man hard, but where they struck, they bounced away, and a sudden flash of pain struck the exact center of my brain. I fell, crashing into an empty pedestal, knocking it over as my vision swam and tendrils of fire slithered through my brain.

  Kill it with fire!

  Noooooooo!

  Yesssssss!

  I stared up at the ceiling, grunting and flinching as I tried to shake off the conflicting Whispers in my mind, which seemed to be arguing with each other. I couldn’t tell if they were happy or frustrated with Alyksandre fighting the winged man, because they weren’t directing their shouts clearly. Were they saying No to Alyksandre or to my failed attack on the winged man? Same with the other shouts. Who were they rooting for?

  The fire slowly dimmed in my mind and I gasped in relief, rolling over on shaky arms to see Alyksandre’s sword swing towards the creature like a sledgehammer.

  The man’s elemental wings whipped around
his body protectively, and the hardened steel shattered like a fluorescent bulb upon contact, leaving nothing but a puff of powder in the air as if he had thrown a bag of flour.

  The winged man placed a boot on Alyksandre’s chest – capitalizing on his surprised grunt – and shoved him across the room. Alyksandre struck the back wall with a heavy thud as I managed to climb to my feet, shaking off my wooziness.

  “Easy, pardner,” I muttered, glaring at him. “The Sheriff’s back in town.”

  The winged creature shot me an incredulous look before his eyes latched onto the broken pedestal at my side. Then his face contorted in anger as he took a step closer, mouth opening to scold me with the Holy Word or something.

  But he only managed a step before his head flicked back towards the entrance. I heard a loud crack and the sound of many pounding feet racing our way. When I turned back, the winged cowboy was hurtling through the air, slipping through a crack in the stone like a cockroach.

  Nameless appeared, glowing with white light. An entourage of unfamiliar Nephilim stood at his side, eyes alert. Claire – in polar bear form and looking ready to rend flesh – jogged up behind them, glaring out at the catacombs as if searching for something to hit. I scowled at her, realizing my expensive new underwear was now shredded as a result of her shift. Nameless bent down to place a hand under Alyksandre’s chin, speaking softly. Alyksandre gasped, jumping to his feet, panting desperately.

  I blinked. Had Nameless just brought him back to life? Or had Alyksandre only been unconscious?

  I was striding up to Nameless before I realized it. I cleared my throat behind him, folding my arms. He turned, locked eyes with me, and then blinked, taking a step back.

  “Where did you get that?” he asked cautiously.

  Shit. My scarf. The cross must be showing.

  At Nameless’ tone, the Nephilim suddenly had pointy things aimed in my general direction, but Claire barreled into them like a wrecking ball, bowling them over.

  Nameless clapped his hands once and I thought the catacombs might simply collapse down upon us. Everyone froze – even Claire. Then, she slowly climbed to her feet and backed away, never breaking eye contact with the Nephilim as she placed herself in front of me and any danger, a wall of white fur and claws.

  I placed a hand on her shoulder and felt her rock-hard muscles shaking.

  “Easy, Claire. Let’s cool down a second. Everyone’s on edge. I’m sure there is an explanation for… whatever just happened.”

  Nameless was studying me warily – not angry, but suddenly very thoughtful.

  “Where did you get that?” he asked again.

  “Spoils of war,” I answered, keeping my face blank.

  His lips pursed for a moment before he gave a brief nod. His eyes quickly flickered to the carving on the wall and then back to mine meaningfully. “Be careful with that. Spoils of war can sometimes be deadly. Just because we found a Templar hideout doesn’t mean we should rob it.”

  I masked my uneasiness with a slow nod. “Understood.” I had recognized their ancient symbol – two interwoven triangles that formed a 3D version of the Star of David, the well-known six-pointed star – but to find a Templar hideout in Kansas City? This place looked ancient – which was actually a relief. It meant the Templars hadn’t suddenly come to town for me, building a secret base underground. Because I had kind of pissed off their head honcho in Rome.

  “Who was that… guy?” I asked.

  “An Angel that lacked conviction,” Nameless said, sounding both disappointed and disgusted.

  “Does that mean he was Fallen like Alyksandre said?”

  Nameless grunted, eyes sweeping the cavern again. “We have all fallen short of the glory of God.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Specificity keeps swords out of the wrong people.”

  He didn’t acknowledge me, instead glaring at the pedestal I had knocked over. “The Ring of Aandaleeb is gone. Did this Angel take it?” Nameless asked, turning to look at Alyksandre.

  The Nephilim shook his head, dread locks swinging as he pointed at the pedestal. “Something powerful once rested there, but it was empty when we got here. I didn’t notice the sensation until we entered the room itself, as if it had rested here long enough to leave a permanent residue. I checked the area over here to see if someone had hidden it instead of leaving it on display. But I found nothing.”

  “How long ago? Centuries? Years? Months?” Nameless demanded.

  Alyksandre closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I will try to trace it.” Then he began walking, eyes still closed, as he lifted his palms to the air, letting them quest back and forth as if pretending to be a bird.

  “Look, Claire,” I whispered, patting her back. “An interpretive dance to find Andy’s Ring…”

  I heard someone cough, sounding suspiciously like Kevin, but the rest of the Nephilim were focused on their leader. Alyksandre reached the pedestal, fingers seeming to caress the air like a harp for a few moments. He took a deep breath, and then murmured. “I’ve got its aura, now…” Then he slowly walked across the room, eyes still closed, which was honestly pretty impressive since the ground was slightly uneven in places.

  He reached the far wall and finally lowered his palms to his side. “Less than a day. It left through here.”

  I was walking over to him without consciously deciding to do so, wondering how he had tracked this ring down. I didn’t realize I had spoken out loud.

  “A gift. I can sense objects of power,” he admitted, pointing at the wall.

  I nodded absently. This ring had slipped through a solid wall? But as I neared, I realized there was actually a fold in the rock, leaving a sliver of a crack. Tight enough for… maybe a small person to slip through. I studied Alyksandre and shook my head. Then I glanced back at the others. They were all too big.

  “I can check it out, see how far back it goes,” I said, turning to Nameless.

  Claire spoke up in a throaty grumble. “I’m smaller.”

  Everyone frowned at that, but a sliver of a smile crossed Kevin’s cheeks as he realized what Claire had meant. She was smaller than me in human form. And that meant he might get another eyeful of her in all her naked glory.

  I shook my head. “Unless you want your Nephilim to see a naked woman wriggling through rocks and darkness, it should be me. Also, I have magic. If I get stuck, I might be able to use it to break free.”

  Nameless nodded his agreement, and I heard a very faint sigh of disappointment from the Nephilim crowd.

  Chapter 13

  I slipped through the crack, ignoring Alyksandre’s report of the winged man’s form of ingress and egress. The cold stone pressed against me, scraping my shoulders, but it wasn’t suffocating. Although dark, I imagined I was simply slipping through a crowd at a concert. The voices behind me faded, but those inside my head grew in volume. Still shouting and snarling intensely, but indistinguishable from one another. I shivered, pressing them down as I squeezed my body through the crack. The space opened up after a few shimmying steps, and the damp rock began to seep through my clothes. I managed to tug down the scarf, not wanting to hyperventilate since the suffocating sensation wasn’t helping my mindset while maneuvering through the cramped, pitch-black space.

  It began curving to the right, and I let my fingertips guide me, able to shimmy sideways more easily without fear of scraping my face on the rock. Still, I tested the ground beneath me, wary of sudden holes or crevices that could snap my ankle if I fell.

  I breathed evenly, imagining sunshine and fields of chirping birds and flying kites, aware that my body was starting to get anxious, my shoulders hitching and fingertips tingling with anxiety as it imagined being stuck in here forever. If the item they were seeking had gone through this place, it had to open up somewhere. Maybe outside the cemetery. A back door. That wouldn’t help me, but at least it would get me out of the cave.

  Unless it spilled me out onto a camp of Templars or something.

  Or if I fou
nd that winged cowboy waiting to swoop me up and carry me away. My silver butterflies had not only had no effect on him – they had seemed to recoil and harm me. Unless the timing was simply perfect, and the Whispers had decided to turn up the volume at that exact moment.

  Or I was just so tired that I hadn’t focused my spell properly, and he had some wicked defensive skills. Too tired to keep the Whispers from harassing me.

  Still, I hadn’t ever heard them sound angry. Sinister, sure. But that had been when I was killing asshole Templars – a far cry from the ones who had founded the Order’s humble beginnings. I wondered what form of Templar had occupied the catacombs behind me. More of the twisted, morally righteous assholes I had encountered in Rome, or a bunch of pleasant old dudes reminiscing about the glory days of fighting in the Crusades? Time would tell.

  But I was kind of working for an Angel – and he had wanted to steal something from them – so maybe these guys were also assholes. Or the Angel I was working for was an asshole. Or that other winged cowboy was an asshole.

  Somebody was a stinker in this equation. And when the assholes had wings, things got messy. I paused, thinking about how that had sounded in my head, and sighed.

  It didn’t slip my mind that the only people I hadn’t considered an asshole in the equation were myself or Claire.

  And to really drive the metaphor home, I was currently sliding through the cold, damp ass crack of planet Earth, well below the surface, thanks to these assholes.

  But was I sliding away from the assholes or closer?

  I reached a thinner, even tighter spot and squinted my eyes closed as I let out my breath, trying to shimmy my way through. But I was still too big to fit. I let out more breath and forced my tense, upper body to relax. Between one moment and the next, I stumbled and fell into open space, but thankfully remained standing. I froze as someone shouted at me in alarm.