Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2

by Shayne Silvers

  Hearing that Nate had gone down to Hell hadn’t caused a glimmer of surprise or interest in Darling. Who the hell were these two, really? Even Nate’s godly friends had been surprised to hear about Hell.

  But Darling? Just fondly fondled a bedroom prop at the comment.

  “Waiting for me to compliment your incredibly sexy new hairstyle, or does something else trouble you?” he asked, not turning to look at me.

  I smiled at the compliment but continued my search for Claire. How big was this place? I could hear her talking, but the volume hadn’t changed, as if we were just walking in circles around her.

  “Many things trouble me. Like why all these gangs are forming in town? And why is no one doing anything about them?”

  Darling grunted. “Vermin.”

  I nodded. “I agree. The gangs are vermin, and should easily be handled without me having to step up and slap around a few thugs in the middle of the night.”

  He turned to look at me. “Oh, right. The gangs are vermin, too.” He nodded, continuing on.

  I frowned at his back. “Wait. Who were you talking about if not the gangs?”

  “Everyone,” he replied, smiling over his shoulder. “Both high and low.” Then he was briskly walking away again, leaving me sputtering behind him as I rushed to catch up. Was that a subtle nod to Angels and Demons or some other group I wasn’t aware of?

  “Hey—”

  He rounded on me so suddenly that I grunted, skidding to a halt as I lifted my hands out.

  My palms struck his chest and I crumpled to the ground like a puppet with cut strings. My vision swam, and then flipped upside down as something squeezed my sides and shoulders. Then the world blurred and my head lolled back. “There, there, Callie. Sometimes I just can’t help myself… It will be better if we just go somewhere private and get this over with…”

  Despite my fear, I was as helpless as a babe as everything began fading to black.

  The last thing I saw was a rack of whips, and a tan hand casually picking one out.

  Chapter 18

  Warm, supple leather cradled my body in a loving hug, pressing against my cheeks.

  I came to with a panicked gasp. Darling had attacked me! I was restrained! He’d taken—

  I saw him sitting across from me, one leg crossed over the other, a blue fire blazing in a hearth behind him. He was smoking a cigar, fiddling with a rust-colored ascot beneath his open collared dress shirt. “I would come closer, but I didn’t want to startle you,” he murmured in a soft tone.

  I let out a breath, trying to gather my thoughts. I wasn’t in danger.

  “What… happened?” I asked in a whisper.

  “Instinct. You ran into me shouting Hey and I reacted… prematurely,” he chuckled. “I hear it happens to the best of men.”

  I just stared at him, not rising to the low joke. “You shut me down by… touching me?”

  He shrugged absently, waving a hand in a whorl of smoke. “You have too much on your mind. You are brimming with questions. You need to hear some questions.”

  I blinked at him, slowly shaking my head. Maybe I was still disoriented from whatever he had done to me. I had touched him and dropped like a rock. I must have felt him carrying me to the chair, but it had felt so sinister. Just fear from being alone with a dangerous… being? Or was it sound advice? That I really didn’t know much about these two leather-makers. I saw a leather whip leaning beside the fire place and flinched, remembering seeing a tan hand picking it up before I passed out.

  He followed my gaze and let out an amused chuckle, reading my thoughts. “It was in the wrong spot. From my… personal collection,” he admitted with a shrug.

  I didn’t feel any welts or anything, so let it go.

  I was suddenly very eager to find Claire.

  “She’s fine. Just shopping. You can hear her.”

  I felt my skin crawl, realizing he had read my thoughts without permission. But he was right. I could hear Claire clearly, speaking with Dear about a pair of leather pants. Like they were just around the corner, but…

  We were in a closed room. I glanced over at the door casually, noticing that the walls around it were actually smoked glass and that I could make out vague silhouettes on the other side from the racks of coats, boxes, and shoes outside.

  “You’re safe. We’re all here.”

  I slowly turned to look at him. He took another long puff of his cigar, and I could have sworn his eyes pulsed blue, like lightning, behind the smoke.

  “What did you mean that I’m full of questions, and that I need someone to ask me questions. That doesn’t make any sen—”

  “Since you refuse to see, let me introduce you to my friend, but I’ll warn you, she’s expensive.” My mind reeled as he interrupted me to use a homonym of my cut-off word sense to so adroitly change the topic. He pointed with his cigar to my right.

  I turned and almost fell out of my chair.

  A beautiful, topless, exotic woman stared at me from the floor. I definitely hadn’t ever met her, but almost everyone in the world could have pointed her out, recognizing her face.

  But she wasn’t entirely human.

  She lay on her stomach in a familiar pose, feline paws folded one over the other, neck arched regally as she considered me. Her lion’s tale twitched back and forth, and her cocaine-white feathered wings were tucked in close to her body. But from the neck up she was a stunningly beautiful, dark-haired woman.

  The Sphinx.

  “If I poke my finger through your eyes, will your jaws open wide?” she asked in a lazy purr like poured honey.

  I blinked. “Um, probably in sheer agony, yes.”

  She tsked disapprovingly, turning to Darling.

  He rolled his eyes. “Scissors. Everyone knows that one.”

  She nodded, lifting a paw to inspect her claws. “Not everyone, apparently.”

  I blinked. “Wait, that wasn’t a threat, but a riddle?” I asked, eyes studying her every detail. She was gorgeous. Like all deadly beings.

  She looked back up at me as if bored. “Sphinx. Riddle. I’m fucking expensive. And you’re fucking dense.” Her tone added moron.

  I scowled. “Was that another riddle?”

  Darling sighed and I shot him a sharp look. “Questions often answer questions,” he said, “but the right questions are expensive.”

  I turned from him to the Sphinx. This was a little too strange, even for me. “I think I’m good.”

  “Your mind is a nest of thorns, and thrashing your horns shows you only miles and miles of more briars.”

  I studied her, but finally shook my head. “Like you said, I’m too dense for your expensive questions. They’ll only give me a bigger migraine.” I took a breath and made to climb to my feet and find Claire.

  The Sphinx’s head was suddenly resting in my lap. She sniffed rather loudly, getting a primal whiff of eau de Callie, which was about as awkward as anything I had ever experienced. I tried to slide back, but the Sphinx sat up, resting her paws on the arms of my chair, wings flaring out behind her as she leaned in to nuzzle my neck. I remained perfectly still, ready to stab if I sensed even a flicker of danger, although I knew I was already too late if it came to that.

  She licked my cheek and I flinched involuntarily. Then she was leaning back, eyes only inches away.

  “You’ll do. I need a friend. And you taste salty-sweet.”

  I stared into her purple eyes and felt like I had suddenly been tossed into a river of time. I gasped, pulling myself out of that gaze, shivering. “That’s just my sweat. I don’t taste salty-sweet.”

  “No eating her, Phix. We’re not finished with this one yet,” Darling warned.

  The Sphinx – Phix, apparently – cocked her head. “I don’t eat friends. Well… not usually.”

  I nodded as if that was totally acceptable. “So, what brings you here?” I asked lamely, realizing she didn’t feel like exiting my personal bubble.

  “I typically guard temples, but h
ave recently lowered my standards, lucky for you.”

  Darling burst out laughing. I scowled at him over Phix’s wings, thinking on her words. She was still way too close for my comfort, but the twinkle in her eyes made me think she’d meant more than she’d said outright. Temples… as in Nate Temple? Or was I just jumping to conclusions with her all up in my face like this?

  She cocked her head as if listening to something I couldn’t hear. Then she turned back to me. “What is light and dark, but neither? Made of shadows but dances in sunlight? Made of sunbeams but frolics in darkness?”

  I heard Darling’s boots drop to the ground as if he had suddenly leaned forward, interested.

  “I…” I thought furiously. I’d never been that interested in riddles. Or, maybe it was more honest to say I’d always been interested in riddles, but after running into a few that I couldn’t guess, I usually lost all interest – as a coping mechanism for my frustration.

  I thought about it, having a million answers and none. Which was how riddles worked. Was she asking about certain events in town? Me? Or was this another simple childhood riddle where the answer was time or something lame?

  She shook her head and I shivered. Of course. Mind reader.

  I finally shrugged in defeat. “I’m not very good at riddles.”

  “Your mind is too rigid for riddles, and your body is too tense for diddles.”

  My face flushed crimson and I realized Claire was now standing in the open doorway. I glanced over at her to let her know I was safe. She smiled at the Sphinx, not looking concerned in the slightest as she grinned widely.

  “Oh, I agree. Callie could use a good diddle, and I know just the man for the j—”

  “Shut up, Claire,” I hissed, glaring at her. She smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and walked over to one of the couches perpendicular to my chair. She studied the sphinx curiously, not remotely alarmed. Was it a shifter thing? Could she sense something that made her feel safer? Knowing somehow that I wasn’t in danger?

  “You were saying?” I asked Phix.

  “You know too much and miss all else. You see, but don’t see, so obsessed with the world’s body and not its soul.”

  I stared at her for a second before glancing over her shoulder at Darling.

  “Do you guys have a translator?” I asked, growing agitated. I felt like the Sphinx was only rubbing my face in how ignorant I was, and it wasn’t putting me in a good mood. Not even adding in the diddling comment.

  The Sphinx suddenly lifted my chin with a paw and I held my breath, feeling the cool tips of her claws pressing against my thin skin. “The answer… it’s you. And the Ring of Aandaleeb.”

  Then she was detaching herself from my chair to saunter over to the fire, where she promptly curled up on her side, stretching her paws out lazily. “Wake me when we are ready to leave, Callie Penrose. I have more work to do with you yet. You’re too easily influenced. The bear will help, but you must get out of your own way for a time.”

  I stared at the creature, mouth opening wordlessly. She knew about the Ring of Aandaleeb? From the Catacombs? Claire looked gob-smacked, as if agreeing with me on the ridiculousness of Phix’s comment. I wasn’t influenced by anyone. I always fought back against authority. I finally sighed, shaking my head.

  Did this make me a crazy cat lady?

  Chapter 19

  Claire wasn’t subtle about draping her arm over the side of the couch, even shaking her hand unnecessarily until I acknowledged the new accessory adorning her wrist. A band of creamy leather about the size of a watch, but with no face, circled her wrist, and I spotted dark symbols etched into it.

  “Oh, this? It’s nothing, really,” she said in faux boredom. “It just makes me bulletproof!” she hooted.

  Darling smiled, rolling his eyes. “Like an Aegis,” he said, nodding to Dear in approval of her assistance with Claire, and as if also to catch her up to speed on his talk with me. “Not as strong, but close enough to count.”

  “An Aegis?” I asked. “Like Zeus’ shield?”

  Dear nodded. “A Godly goat-skin,” she said, cackling. “How ridiculous. He had no imagination.” She winked at Claire. “Yours is better, my sweet.”

  Claire was frowning at them, not having been told just how powerful – even though Darling and Dear were downplaying it – her little bracelet was.

  “Claire told me the most fascinating story about your underground,” Dear said, taking me in with her raptor gaze.

  Darling leaned forward with a leer. “Oh? Callie didn’t tell me about her underground, the sly minx.” He winked at me suggestively.

  “The Catacombs beneath her city, Darling, not her body’s glorious nether regions,” Dear chided with a tired sigh.

  Darling leaned back with a regretful sigh.

  “My glorious nether regions…” I repeated, glaring at Claire for spilling the beans on the catacombs. How much had she told them? She pointedly glanced away, sensing my anger.

  “She was quite thorough,” Dear answered my thoughts, making my scowl deepen.

  “How interesting,” Darling said, puffing at his cigar while his eyes roved Claire from head to toe, likely rehashing the details for himself. Pulling the answers from her thoughts.

  Since it was pointless to lie to them – they could read our thoughts, after all – I told them everything, hoping they might have some answers for us dim-witted mortals. Phix looked up during my explanation, studying me thoughtfully.

  “Yes, it sounds like the old Templar Vault. Lucky you. They’ve been searching for it for quite some time while you kicked your feet up in St. Louis,” Dear finally said, nodding to herself.

  I frowned at her. “Wait. The Templars… are here? In Kansas City?” I asked, suddenly tense. I had obviously accepted that a Templar Vault lay forgotten beneath the city – I had seen the signs carved into the rock – but it had all been so old. I’d just assumed it was a historic site.

  But to hear that Templars were actually here? Now? Had they been the ones occupying the space? The Templars had every reason to hate me. I was indirectly responsible for possibly turning their leader into a werewolf. “How long have they been here?” I asked.

  “Oh, quite some time, I would think. By your measure of time, anyways. I believe they came here for a recruitment rush during your absence. But they’ve also been hunting for this Vault.”

  “Is that the one that was here before the Colonial heathens arrived?” Darling asked Dear.

  “No, the other one,” she replied, standing to pour herself a drink.

  He nodded his head in recognition. “Oh, that one. With the Ring of Aandaleeb.”

  I leaned forward. “What is the Ring of Aandaleeb?” I asked, not liking how many times I had heard it recently. I definitely didn’t like Phix’s dumb riddle that implied I had some tie to it.

  Darling waved a hand. “A trinket. A trifle, really. Names. Bah. Two sides to the same coin.”

  My mind raced with possibilities. The Templars were here looking for the same ring that Nameless had wanted, and it had been hidden inside their old Catacombs. Then… who had stolen it? And who had been living down there? And what was it, exactly?

  One thing that was blindingly clear, now, was that Nameless and the Templars weren’t on the same side. The Templars were zealots. Had Nameless been trying to get me to rob them? They already hated me!

  And who was that other Angel we had fought? And why had Greta been so offended about us fighting him?

  Hadn’t she mentioned Solomon before we left the coffee shop? Perhaps she had known about the Templars. They had first started out as the Order of the Temple of Solomon. I really wished I could get a hold of Nate to at least clear up the Greta situation – verify her position. But Nate was off in Fae, so any of his allies I didn’t personally know were suspect.

  As things currently stood, it was looking like three forces of God were about to meet up for a good old-fashioned war. In Kansas City.

  “What can you tell me
?” I asked into the silent room.

  “That depends on what you can show me,” Darling smiled.

  I scowled at him. Show and tell, the old childhood game from school. Well, I wasn’t going to flash him for answers, but I understood that everything was a deal to these two. Which made me wonder what kind of deal Claire had made. “Not happening,” I told Darling with a warning look.

  “Pity,” Dear sighed wistfully. She eyed me hungrily, as if she could see through my clothes. I had to force myself not to blush. I let out a breath, motioning for Claire to join me.

  Phix made as if to stand, but I held out a hand. “No offense, but you’re not exactly discreet. Mind sticking around here?” I asked her politely, imagining a wall in my mind to prevent her from reading my thoughts. It was taxing, but I was getting sick and tired of mind readers.

  A girl needed her secrets to stay sharp.

  Phix sighed in amusement, as if sensing my defensive wall, and deciding not to hurt my feelings by telling me it was made of sand. “You know where to find me,” she said, curling back down for a nap.

  Darling lifted his hand, snapped his fingers, and we were suddenly in a damp alley behind his shop – where I had first seen him and Dear sitting on ornate chairs in a dead-end of brick walls. Two yellow raincoats hung from an out-of-place coat stand.

  “What the hell?” Claire asked, taking in the alley, and the random coat-rack.

  But I was already tugging on one of the raincoats – Burberry, of course – and tying the belt forcefully around my waist, knowing better than to ask. I tugged the hood up as fast as I could.

  And like the motion had set it off, rain suddenly poured down from the leaden skies, soaking Claire in moments. She shrieked, darting for the other jacket and frantically tying it on. When finished, she stared at me like a drowned rat.

  “We need to go talk to Nameless,” I growled.

  Chapter 20