Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2

by Shayne Silvers

  I had figured some of the stories might be true, that whatever King Midas touched turned to gold, but had also considered the fact that it was an exaggerated story. A figure of speech. Like he knew how to always come out ahead in a deal, or something. But to see it happen in person.

  “In the future, I would appreciate forewarning if you’re playing in Kansas City,” I told Midas, since he hadn’t been in the room when I had said it to Asterion.

  The man watched me thoughtfully. Not agreeing, but not denying. Then he put his hands in his pockets and Claire winced, holding her breath.

  “It seems I’ve already crossed the line, so to speak,” he said conversationally, indicating the building around us. “You will let me know how I can make that up to you…”

  I nodded in appreciation, surprised it had been that easy. Was he being literal? He hadn’t put any limitations on his offer, but I was pretty sure I could come up with a few ideas for a man that had no concern for money.

  “Thank you. Now, we have some business to attend to at the… Hellfire Club.”

  “Perhaps we could tag along,” Midas offered.

  I hesitated. “Um. I don’t really know what we’re walking into. I’d hate for you to get tossed into the middle of a fight…”

  Asterion grunted. “He runs the bloodiest Fight Club in the country – a Den of Freaks who fight to the death on a weekly basis. You’d be surprised at what he can do.”

  “Okay,” I said, not finding any polite way out of it. “We might as well head over there, I guess.”

  They followed me to the door, and I glanced back at the Minotaur. He had slipped on a long, black coat and was already holding a massive gold – of course – golf umbrella over his head as he squatted low in an awkward shuffle. Well, that worked. I had thought to see something a bit more magical and classy. A way for the Minotaur to conceal his true form. Something majestically wondrous from the legendary Minotaur.

  Not a giant fucking man-cow with a gold umbrella.

  We made our way across the street, and I caught them up on recent events as we walked towards our destination. I told them about seeing the men chasing a woman into a dark alley before everyone had disappeared. That I had found a piece of glass with the address on it leading us here. They didn’t offer comment, just filed the information away.

  “I don’t know what we’re walking into,” I said as the building loomed ahead of us. “I just wanted to see if she got away clean.”

  “But there’s always the chance we might need to fuck some shit up,” Claire offered helpfully. She arched a brow at Midas. “Maybe you can make something pretty.”

  “What a novel idea,” Midas said, eyes twinkling thoughtfully.

  Asterion snorted under his umbrella, but he just looked like a giant golden mushroom, crouched too low for me to even make out his head. Maybe the approaching darkness and rain would help keep him concealed under his golden umbrella.

  I sighed. “There’s always that possibility in Kansas City,” I said to Claire. “Let’s hurry before darkness falls.”

  Chapter 25

  The three-story brick building Claire pointed out as our destination looked to have once been a hotel – about fifty years ago. I approached the front door, surprised to find it unlocked. I held it open for Claire, Asterion, and Midas, inwardly shaking my head at my gang. What were we about to find, and was it smart for me to involve Asterion and Midas in Kansas City politics?

  I entered to find them huddled in a small lobby. Asterion shrugged off his coat and closed his umbrella as he stretched back up to full height, towering over the rest of us. His ears pricked towards the empty space as if searching for threats. Claire had her hands tucked into the pockets of my robe, and Midas was flexing his fingers thoughtfully. I glanced down at my own attire – a pair of jeans, my Darling and Dear jacket and boots, and a long-sleeved tee with a unicorn dragging his ass across the ground, leaving a rainbow trail behind him.

  So professional.

  I glanced around me, not seeing any furniture, desks, or people. Just a big empty lobby with dust motes drifting in the air. This was the present-day Hellfire Club? Asterion and Midas had caught us up on the historical origins of the group, sparking my memory. To sum it up, they had been a group of occult aficionados who performed rituals, sex rites, and all sorts of ridiculous parties. But it seemed that had just been a front of sorts – that the real Hellfire Club was actually run by real witches. And nowadays, they were kind of like a United Nations committee for their sisters across the globe. A central hub to open lines of communication across great distances.

  And the fact that they had laid low for so long – both in Kansas City and St. Louis – was very impressive. They didn’t get involved in politics. I hadn’t even known of a single witch in Kansas City, let alone a group of them. They had restructured their business model and kept their noses clean. Establishing a network for safety, not to attack other Freaks.

  The woman I had seen running away from those men was likely a member, judging by the glass we had tracked here, and I didn’t want to drop the case until I found out her fate – whether she had escaped or not. If she was missing, I wanted to tell this Hellfire Club about seeing her running from those men. Maybe they would know the full story.

  Or they were unaware anyone was hunting them.

  After recent events, my money was on Templars, but there were plenty of other predators in town who liked chasing down lone women. Even some of the human variety. I was just a little biased.

  Either way, the Hellfire Club needed to know they were in danger.

  Another thought sent a shiver down my spine. Maybe… the men had been the members, using their blue potion to abduct the woman. I shivered. That would mean we were walking into a very dangerous situation.

  Friend or foe?

  “Their offices are on the second floor,” Midas offered in a low murmur, pointing at a set of stairs to our right. He had taken off his gloves, revealing strong, calloused hands, not the soft, manicured digits I had expected. He looked oddly comfortable, as if he had dusted off an old but familiar skillset from his youth. Maybe he wouldn’t be the liability I had feared.

  I knew Asterion could handle himself in a fight, but I had been concerned about Midas. Liking to watch fights was different than being good at fighting. Take the UFC, for instance. Everyone who put on an Affliction shirt suddenly felt they were invincible, as if the brand was the modern-day equivalent of Hercules’ Nemean Lion Cloak – which I knew for a fact was hoarded in Nate’s private stash.

  Being a fanboy was different than being a fighter.

  But Midas’ knuckles looked scarred, matching up with his sudden comfort. Then again, he could always just turn his enemies into gold statues with a touch, so he would probably be fine.

  “What did Beckett say?” I asked Claire, creeping up the creaking stairs. She had texted him as we walked over here.

  “He didn’t answer. I gave him the address and said we might have a lead on a missing woman.”

  I nodded. Hopefully, the missing woman phrase would catch his attention. If not, it had only been a courtesy call anyway, since the three men had been human. Might need official handling.

  Reaching the top of the stairs, I spotted a tall set of double doors across the landing. I could hear faint music and conversation behind it. I glanced over my shoulder at Asterion. “Do you mind hanging back until I can verify there aren’t any Regulars inside?”

  Asterion snorted unhappily, folding his arms. I gave Midas a nod, and Claire a wicked grin.

  “You’re my wild card. If things go badly, drop the robe,” I told her.

  She blinked at me. “You want me to flash a bunch of witches.”

  “The element of surprise.”

  “I think it’s the element of indecent exposure, and you had me call the cops ahead of time, so now it’s premeditated.”

  Midas nodded his agreement.

  “We have our game plan,” I said, as if she hadn’t
spoken. Then I approached the doors, ignoring her hissed curses behind me.

  I took a deep breath, and then called out my black-feathered fan immediately before me – so that it could both protect me if the occupants decided to shoot, but appear to be a normal fan in my hand if they were Regulars.

  I gripped the door handles and heaved both open at the same time, hoping to clear my line of vision into the room. A wall of fragrant blue smoke and the haunting sounds of Enya’s greatest hits rolled over me as if I had just found Cheech and Chong’s love palace.

  I blinked as my eyes adjusted, realizing it was actually a small ballroom of sorts, maybe enough for a hundred people to move around freely without feeling liked packed sardines.

  A long table sat in the center of the room, but…

  Dozens of sheer silk curtains hanging from the ceiling in various pastel hues created the illusion of walls, breaking the area around the table into a handful of smaller areas that were furnished by mismatched lounging couches, daybeds, padded benches, or even piles of thick pillows strewn across the floor. Since the hanging silk walls were basically transparent, there really wasn’t any privacy. And there really should have been some privacy police on standby.

  About a dozen people had been strutting around the room, murmuring softly to each other as they gazed upon the carnal activities of an equal number of people who were using the furniture like bedroom-parkour props. Many of the pairings were quite unique and imaginative.

  I saw a man with long, blonde hair handing out hand towels to two women as they… finished with a dark-haired man who was lying back on a couch, hands folded behind his head as he caught his breath. The two women toweled off, and then tossed the cloths into a nearby bin. One of them pointed at another group, giggling as she tugged her bedmate after her to join in on the second round of fun, obviously not quite fulfilled yet.

  I shook my head at the blonde man handing out towels, but he was facing the other direction, so he didn’t see my sympathy. Talk about the worst job ever.

  One group in particular seemed to be going for the record of how many people they could fit into their orgy, like building a house of cards until it all fell down. They didn’t notice my arrival.

  But the rest of the room slowly began to notice…

  All conversation and recreational activities slowly died out. Except for the record-breakers, who were still bringing their ‘A’ game to their cause.

  I didn’t move, just as surprised as the inhabitants. One woman – skin the color of obsidian and not a stitch to conceal it – stared at me from only ten paces away, her white teeth stark against her dark skin. She glistened as if she had just been freshly oiled.

  I felt someone step up from behind me, sigh, and then I saw my fluffy pink robe fall to the ground. “Ta-da!” Claire said in a confident cheer. It seemed to have the desired effect, because everyone seemed to relax, resuming their entertainment. Two naked women even giggled as they slipped into one of the areas to join those already having fun.

  I groaned, shaking my head. Perhaps now we did fit in better, but I wasn’t about to get down to my skin in front of strangers, no matter how much better it made them feel.

  A sound made me glance over to spot a man sitting on an elaborate Persian rug.

  Except his carpet was hovering about a dozen feet in the air. His bald head was covered in a single large tattoo, and he wore only a kilt. He had a tiger the size of a Yorkie on his lap – and when I say tiger, I don’t mean a cub. This was an adult-proportioned tiger, just… miniature. It snarled in my direction, an angry, spitting sound that I almost couldn’t hear over the sound of the Reddi Wip can suddenly ejecting its mother-load into the man’s mouth.

  Sensing the tiger’s annoyance, he turned to look as he swallowed the whipped cream. I recognized him from a party at Dorian Gray’s mansion. Mike Arthur. I waved at him uncertainly, giving him a crooked smile. “I’ve seen you bef—” I began.

  He chucked the can of whipped cream at me, cutting me short as he slapped his palm down on the rug behind him like he was slapping a horse’s rump. I ducked the can, hearing it hit the wall behind me. Mike Arthur’s rug bucked once before it zipped across the room in a blur. He hit the large glass window on the opposite side of the room that faced the street, and then exploded through it, sailing off into the night on his magic carpet, shrieking, “FREEDOM!”

  Everyone began to scream, swiping up the nearest articles of clothing in a panic.

  The human house of cards even collapsed into a sweaty pile.

  “Damn you, Mike Arthur,” I muttered, watching as all my plans went to hell.

  Chapter 26

  Thunderous boots stomping behind me announced Asterion ducking his horned head into the room, blocking off any possibility of escape. Not concerned with hiding magic anymore, I ran through the crowd and over to the window, tearing through the silk walls. I had to hurdle a few bodies still untangling themselves from their romp, but I ignored their shouts. I finally reached the broken window, fearing that I was about to find a dozen pedestrians on their way home from work shouting variants of What the fuck? Was that a flying carpet?

  What I saw was much worse.

  Six figures moved through the gathering darkness, approaching the building from various points across the street, but in coordination. Probably alerted by the fucking magic carpet. They wore dark, practical clothes, and white scarves with splashes of red on the front. I growled furiously.

  “Fucking Templars,” a familiar voice murmured beside me, also staring out the window. I spun to see Dorian Gray angrily shaking his head at the approaching men. “Are they here for you?”

  I continued to stare at him, momentarily forgetting the Templars. “You said you had a Board Meeting!” I finally snapped.

  “I’m on the Board for the Hellfire Club,” he admitted with an easy shrug, as if we had just run into each other at the grocery store. He held his hand out to indicate the crowd of sweaty people frantically tugging on clothes. “Meeting,” he explained absently, “and the best one in town, I might add.” He had black lipstick kisses on his face, his hair was messed up, and he wore only a pair of tight – I glanced down – very tight leather pants. “I thought you said you had a date tonight,” he said in a judgmental tone.

  I muttered darkly, turning to check how much time we had. The Templars had seen me in the window and had given up all pretense of stealth, now huddling together, planning their attack since they had lost the element of surprise. We had a few minutes, because they would enter cautiously, alert for threats on their way up.

  “I don’t know why they’re here,” I finally said, watching the Templars discussing their options. “Maybe they’re following me, or maybe they’re hunting one of your members. That’s why I’m here in the first place. Checking up on a woman in your group.” I briefly took my eyes from the street to see his reaction.

  Dorian pursed his lips in concern – as if debating sharing information like that with me. Not that he didn’t trust me, but that he didn’t want to hand over one of his apparent group members.

  The crowd had huddled into one mass near the head of the table, no longer shrieking as they saw Dorian talking to me amicably. They still looked terrified, but not of the incoming threat. Of me and my friends.

  I blinked, recognizing a handsome blonde-haired guy. His eyes met mine and he dropped the stack of white hand towels he was holding, face blanching in panic. Faebio. I thought he had looked familiar.

  Dorian sensed my attention and gripped my shoulder. “Easy, Callie. He’s here to earn money to pay off a certain debt. He said he only had forty-eight hours,” Dorian said.

  I turned to Dorian, blinking. “Are you serious?”

  Dorian nodded. “He said you were quite… insistent.”

  I shook my head disgustedly. “Yeah, but sanitary towels? Good god, I thought I was cruel.”

  Dorian shrugged impassively. “He doesn’t mind, and the pay is good. Better than seeking gang protection
for when the Templars come calling.”

  I stared at him. “Wait, he’s scared of the Templars? I thought it was a rival gang.”

  Dorian frowned at me as if I were daft. “Everyone is scared of them. They’ve been scooping up people left and right for weeks.”

  So that was the cause of the sudden rise in gang activity. It was lone freaks forming packs. For protection. And I had been hunting them. Just like the Templars. I shivered guiltily.

  But… they had been criminals, too. They could have formed gangs without breaking into cars. Still, a small part of me felt responsible.

  I glanced back out the window. The Templars were still huddled, but looked to be close to reaching a decision, several of them nodding. “You need to get these people to safety. I doubt they’ll listen to me.”

  Claire was trying to speak to a few of the guests, looking completely comfortable in the nude, of course. They gave her a bit of credit for wearing the right outfit to the board meeting, but I could tell they didn’t completely trust her. “How?” Dorian asked. “What if the Templars have more men waiting out back?”

  Midas had approached, holding out his hand. “Not the best answer, but I have two dusty old balls, here.”

  Dorian coughed in an attempt to cover up an outburst of laughter.

  Midas must have realized how it had sounded. “Two Tiny Balls,” he corrected.

  Dorian actually burst out laughing this time.

  “It’s what he named them!” Midas growled defensively. “Tiny Balls.”

  I placed a hand on his shoulder in thanks, recognizing the glass marbles in his palm. Instant Gateways. Nate Temple’s company, Grimm Tech, had designed them. “Perfect. Only the heavies will be of use against the Templars,” I thought out loud. “You can use one for a ruse – if necessary – and the other for your true escape.”

  Midas nodded, snatching Dorian by the hand and tugging him back to the crowd of frightened naked monsters. I winced, glad that Midas seemed able to control his turning things to gold ability, or Dorian would have become a solid golden statue. Or maybe his painting would have suddenly turned to solid gold, or something.