Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2

by Shayne Silvers

  “Let me do the talking, this time,” I said, changing the topic. “I’ll take the heat for this one. It was my idea anyway. She probably doesn’t like speaking with what she perceives as Father Roland’s minions.”

  They shrugged, not imagining our conversation would take very long, considering the state of the property. “But we are his minions in this. It’s going to be his new home when he gets back, yet we’re doing all the arranging. Minions,” she said, as if she had recited the definition.

  “Yep,” I agreed. “Definitely minions.”

  Claire frowned at me. “Why do you look so pleased with yourself, Callie? Let’s wrap this up and get out of here, because we still need to argue about Dorian’s text blast. Everyone is talking about your stupid idea to—”

  As if on cue, an expensive Look at me, I have money SUV pulled up to the curb, and a middle-aged woman hopped out of the car, face overly professional. She was layered in make-up and jewelry, and propped up by shiny stilettos with heels that were probably bigger than her rich, country club husband’s magic stick. I knew her type, and instantly understood what Paradise and Lost had implied.

  This type of woman loved her position of assumed power, and enjoyed lording it over those less fortunate, toasting magnanimously to the poor souls who couldn’t afford her services.

  She shuffled over to us, and I pointedly stepped in front of Paradise and Lost, making it clear I was the new face of this meeting. I shot her an elitist smile, one she could read like its own language, and her posture visibly changed, picking up on the possible presence of a fellow woman of wealth. Still guarded, but more comfortable.

  She didn’t even glance at the property. “Hello. Unfortunately, this one is now off the market. Someone scooped it up this morning.” She didn’t sound displeased as she spoke over my shoulder at Paradise and Lost.

  In fact, she sounded hopeful – thinking that this news might convince them that buying an old church in town was a lost cause.

  As it should be for their type. The city was better off without it. Or them.

  Claire, Paradise, and Lost all cursed loudly, making the real estate agent’s eyes climb up to her scalp. She pursed her lips, their outburst only solidifying her predetermined disdain. Three women working for a man of the cloth, wearing tight clothes, and obviously foul-mouthed.

  I, on the other hand, kept a polite smile on my face. “You will address me for the duration of our scheduled meeting,” I said in a clinical tone, glancing down at my phone before putting it away. Her shoulders locked up at my tone. “We had an appointment to see the place. An appointment in which you arrived abhorrently late. Surely, the paperwork hasn’t gone through yet. Could you show us the property, while the property is in…” I smiled in amusement, “purgatory? Might help us better clarify what we do and do not want when you spend hours searching down the next dozen potential properties.”

  She blinked at me. “And who might you be? My contract is with these two… women.”

  “An interested party,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m sure it won’t matter to you,” I said in a tone that heavily implied that she wasn’t worthy of hearing about me.

  I saw her fingers clench, and no amount of make-up could have hidden the sudden flush to her cheeks. Rather than reaching out to grab a fistful of my jaw-length hair, she plastered on a very bureaucratic smile, shaking her head in mock empathy. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible. The paperwork has concluded, and it’s no longer available to show.”

  She waited for me to blow up. I didn’t. I just sighed, staring up at the church. “That must have been a nice commission,” I mused.

  “Yes, well. You win some, you lose some,” she admitted, not sounding particularly pleased that she had missed out on the sale – even though she didn’t like working with us. But her tone implied that she didn’t believe she had actually missed out on anything, because Paradise and Lost either hadn’t been good for the money, or serious about buying a church.

  “Pity,” I said, kicking a pebble on the concrete as I continued to stare up at the tall, imposing church. It wasn’t big. Tiny, really, but it definitely had the creepy vibe. Like Count Dracula had built a pool-house for his son.

  My three friends were frowning at me, likely wondering why we were still standing here. Especially Claire, who looked about to blow up on me in a fit of impatience.

  “I have other appointments, I’m afraid,” the agent said. “Let me know if you find any others you would like to take a look at,” she said, leaning as if to speak over my shoulder at Paradise and Lost.

  “Perhaps if you were punctual you wouldn’t need to rush off to your next appointment. Father Roland always says Proper prior planning prevents poor performance.”

  Paradise piped up. “He does say that quite often.”

  The agent curled her lip at us. “Yes, well, I wouldn’t expect you to know the numerous responsibilities I have running one of the most successful real estate agencies in town. And this was the last one on the market that fit your parameters. Unfortunately.” She clicked off the lid to her lipstick, applying a faint touch-up to conceal her triumph.

  I could practically feel her purring with contentment. No other listings meant no other dealings with us.

  A limousine pulled up to the curb, and I let out a sigh of relief. Finally, I thought.

  A muscular blonde man climbed out of the limo, wearing tight jeans, boat shoes, and a white tee despite the rain to come. He waved as he approached, muscles bulging beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

  The real estate agent had slid between us like an octopus, flashing him a bright smile. “You must be the new owner,” she said excitedly. “Congratulations. I wish I could have helped facilitate this transaction, but if you need anything else in town—”

  He stepped around her, not even meeting her eyes as he spoke through the side of his mouth in her general direction. “We don’t know each other. I prefer to keep it that way after seeing how you almost bungled this entirely.”

  He stopped in front of me, handing over a folder and a long, iron key, ignoring the strange sounds coming from the real estate agent’s mouth.

  I nodded gratefully at Achilles, another friend from St. Louis. Well, Nate’s friend, first, but I had commandeered him specifically for this. “Thank you. Father Roland will be pleased.”

  He rolled his eyes out of the agent’s view, but dipped his chin for show before returning back to the limousine and leaving.

  Chapter 39

  The agent finally rounded on me, furious. “I didn’t bungle anything!” she hissed. “Who was that, and what did he give you?” she asked, pointing at the items in my hand.

  “My bartender. You know how us Catholics love our bartenders,” I said, handing the folder back to Paradise and Lost, who were dancing on their toes behind me. “And he brought the signed paperwork for the church. And the key. You can remove your lockbox, now.”

  She blinked at me rapidly, stunned. “They… bought it?” she whispered, eyes taking in Paradise and Lost furiously. “But… what about me? I’m their agent! We have a contract!”

  I frowned at her. “Did my associate hand Paradise and Lost anything?” I asked, frowning in confusion. Then I nodded, as if recalling the exchange. “No. He didn’t. Your contract was with these two upstanding women,” I said, pointing a thumb over my shoulder at them. Then I leaned closer. “My new tenants. Not me, Susan. Lockbox, if you please. I want the key. Quickly, now.”

  “It’s Shelly!” she snapped, panting furiously, eyes wild for some form of recourse.

  “And their names are Paradise and Lost,” I said in a cold tone. “Oh, and you should probably hear it from me, but I offered quite a bit over the asking price to cover the headaches of a rapid closing. It was one… Hell of a commission…” I said, glancing up at the church proudly. “That will be all, Sarah. Leave the key by the door.” I turned my back on her, listening to her fume and sputter as I walked back to my friends, grinning
like an idiot.

  They shook their heads in disbelief.

  “Roland is going to be so pissed,” Claire muttered. “You own it. But… how?”

  I smiled at her, miming zipping my lips as I watched the agent storm past us to the front door to get the lockbox, shouting furiously into her cellphone. It didn’t take Claire very long to gasp.

  “Midas,” she breathed, eyes widening. “You used your favor from Midas. Jesus…” she said, shaking her head. “No wonder Achilles was here. They work together.” I nodded proudly.

  “Is this really a signed lease agreement for Haven to pay you rent?” Paradise asked.

  I nodded. “I also got him to let Roland keep the necklace that lets him walk on Holy Ground.”

  “How?” they spluttered in unison, keeping their voices low enough for only us to hear.

  “Because it locks Roland down in Kansas City. Roland wanted a place to himself, and Haven wanted to keep him close. The only Shepherd turned Vampire has a certain… sex appeal that will benefit both of them – Haven gets fame, and Roland gets default protection.”

  I held up a finger to waylay their next questions, and glanced over my shoulder to see the agent staring up at the old church in horror. She sniffed pompously, sensing my attention. I waved a finger, pointing at the key in her fist. She screamed, throwing it at the door before storming back to her vehicle. The uneven stones made walking in heels a bitch, and she stumbled more than once.

  “What’s another name that starts with S?” I mused.

  “Sally?” Lost chuckled.

  I nodded. “Thank you, Sally!” I called out, waving politely.

  She shrieked again, climbed into her car, and peeled away from the curb.

  “Let’s go check the place out,” Paradise said, sounding proud.

  “Later,” I said, thinking about the time. “You three free for a few hours?” I asked. They nodded uncertainly. “Then I have a favor to ask…” And I told them what I had in mind.

  For the first time since we had arrived at the Church, Claire finally looked relieved.

  And anticipatory. I showed them my phone, revealing a text message from Dorian Gray – who had spread the rumor that I was looking for a little action tonight. “He accepts your challenge. You will fight Olin Fuentes, the Templar Commander, at sundown.” It showed an address, too.

  Claire’s eyes brimmed with barely restrained fury, having heard plenty about the Templar Commander from when I had met him in Italy. I was slightly relieved – and not – to hear confirmation that he was actually in town and that it wasn’t some other faction of Templars. It had removed my optimistic hope that this was all some terrible coincidence.

  Because if Olin Fuentes was here, he wasn’t just looking after his flock. He wanted some Old Testament revenge.

  Paradise and Lost were snarling openly. “That hypocrite,” Paradise spat. “Lost turned him into a werewolf and he has the audacity to come to our town and hunt down Freaks?”

  And she was right. At the end of my fight with him, Lost had attacked him from behind, infecting him with her werewolf genes – which the Templar from the Hellfire Club had confirmed. But no one else in town knew that fun fact. Yet.

  I turned to Claire. “Bring Beckett up to speed and tell him to make sure the place is devoid of police. Things are going to get loud, and I’ll have enough on my plate. But he needs to know the real danger so he can come up with an excuse that makes sense to the other cops.”

  “Why would he agree to fight you?” Paradise asked, scratching her jaw. “He has to know you have allies here.”

  “That’s just it. I challenged him to a duel. This way he knows I can’t bring allies. If he meets me on the street by chance, he has no idea who else could be lurking in the shadows. I think that’s why he’s kept his name out of the gossip. Just Templars, never Olin Fuentes. Because he knows that his name would draw me like a moth to a flame.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I get that, but what does he have to gain from fighting you? Other than simple revenge. Especially since he’s a werewolf, now. He’s risking letting everyone see his deep, dark secret, and shattering his moral high ground.”

  “How clever of you,” I said, patting her on the shoulder. “You’re catching on quickly.”

  “My vacation in St. Louis was… enlightening,” she said with a shiver.

  I nodded, squeezing her shoulder compassionately. I had been there, too. When Nate decided to wade into a civil war with the dragons not too long ago.

  “Winner also gets a fancy ring that was stolen from his base last night.”

  Claire finally snapped. “But that’s what I don’t understand. You don’t have the ring!”

  “What’s so special about this ring? You’re saying it like it’s capitalized,” Lost asked.

  “An ancient relic they think belongs to them. It was stolen from them, though. And word on the street says I bought it off the thief. But only the interested parties know what the ring actually is. This way, Olin knows it’s the one he seeks, but we don’t have to worry about alerting the city at large what exactly we’re talking about, so we don’t attract any additional interest.”

  “But you don’t have it!” Claire hissed again.

  I shrugged, smiling wickedly. “He doesn’t know that.”

  Claire just stared at me, shaking her head as she tried to understand what I was planning.

  “And that’s all you want us to do?” Paradise asked, referring to my request as she folded her arms. “I know it’s a duel, but I don’t like it. He and I have a beef. I don’t like being a lookout.”

  “Hashtag me, too,” Lost grunted.

  I shook my head. “This is about more than revenge. If you can’t do as asked, stay out of it. I’ll find someone else.”

  “Well, since I don’t trust the bastard, I’ll be there. For when he breaks the terms. I’ll rip off a leg or two before tossing him over to you two,” Claire added, glancing at Paradise and Lost.

  “That’s fine,” they agreed.

  I gave them a very serious look, shaking my head. “I need to know you guys can stay on point, not see me stumble and assume he cheated. A lot rides on this. More than I’m telling you, obviously. You will do as I ask or you will be a mile away. Even if I have to tie you up myself. This is about more than just revenge. Even I’m not doing it out of a personal vendetta, and I really, really want to rip his face off.”

  They studied each other for a full minute, not speaking.

  Finally, Claire growled. “I’ll play by your rules, but like I told you before, I’ll always look out for you, Callie. Whether you like it or not. If he cheats and I truly believe your life is in real danger, I won’t hold back.” She smiled faintly. “Even if you tie me up. Because I just spent a lot of money on your stupid new underwear, and I refuse to have your first time wearing them be in your casket.”

  I burst out laughing, especially at the puzzled frowns on Paradise and Lost. “Fine,” I relented, shaking my head. “But you know your priority, here. I’m serious. Your part is vital.”

  “Deal,” they finally agreed, extending their hands. “Now, can we look at the Church?”

  I smiled, glancing up at the sky to judge how long I had until the fight.

  “Sure.” Why not? We had a little time. “I need to make sure that bitch didn’t scratch the door when she threw the key at my new church.”

  Chapter 40

  The rain had come and gone, but the clouds still looked past their due-date for another birthing of a heavy downpour. The alley stank, but not as much as some I had wandered recently, hunting down rogue Freaks. Gangster monsters.

  I was early and stood in the alley by myself. Luckily, no homeless people had occupied the area, which was why I had arrived early in the first place, to make sure my meeting with Olin Fuentes would go unnoticed by the unwashed of Kansas City.

  Thankfully, I didn’t see any drunk pedestrians wandering the streets, suddenly interested in a young girl all
alone in a dark alley at sunset.

  I breathed evenly, checking my blades, straps, jacket, and my boots. My magic would be useless against Olin because he wore a Templar Scarf, which nullified magic. But, to be a bitch, I wore one, too.

  Except mine was dyed hot pink. I’d let Paradise and Lost pick the color since they were being such good sports about their job tonight.

  I checked it, verifying it was knotted around my neck, and fanning down my chest in a glaring pink stain like I had vomited nuclear Pepto-Bismol. The fat red Templar Cross on the front didn’t go with the pink. I looked like Hollywood Barbie gone Catholic.

  Perfect.

  I checked my phone, wondering how close we were to showdown. It had to be any minute now, but I sensed no one watching, as had been agreed upon. I’d promised not to alert my allies about the fight, even though everyone had heard about my challenge.

  Other than my three sentinels, only Dorian Gray had known the location of the fight since he had arranged it.

  But he was a filthy gossip and was liable to say anything with his pillow friends – of which he had dozens. I wondered if Olin had considered that, figured he had, and anticipated at least some backup from his side – if for nothing more than to get him out if I tried to ambush him.

  Which was technically fine. As long as they didn’t interfere with the fight.

  The same as I had done.

  And since Commander Olin Fuentes of the Holier than Thou Templars considered all Freaks to be devil spawn, my feelings would be hurt if he didn’t show up with an army at his back. I wasn’t overly concerned about it, either way.

  My magic might not work against him, but I had other forms of metaphorical weapons. I had tapped into my Angelic power – to use Silver blades to cut down his men in Italy. I wasn’t sure if those blades were related to the Whispers, the Silvers, or if it was all the same thing. Or two entirely different somethings. Since I didn’t truly know enough about the origins of my powers – and no one else seemed to, either – I was still in the discovery phase in that regard.