Feathers and Fire Series Box Set 2

by Shayne Silvers

  Dorian clapped his hand over his mouth in a show of flamboyant embarrassment, simultaneously managing to interrupt Le Bone’s comment about his Master—but done so cleverly that Le Bone didn’t even appear to realize it. “That’s the thing about immortality,” Dorian said with a smile. “Plenty of time to sample all the fruits. Try Tyler. I won’t tell anyone…” He winked, tipped an imaginary hat and walked up to kiss Tyler full on the lips. They took their time extricating their faces from one another and, surprisingly, no paint was smudged. Only the best makeup for Dorian Gray’s Dance Squad.

  The guards were so baffled that they hardly even noticed as I awkwardly slipped past them with a murmured, “Excuse me,” as I brushed their arms with my fingertips. They were tall but had looked lanky, and I hadn’t been sure if they had any muscle to speak of since I was more familiar with shifters who were typically built like powerlifters. Vampires, on the other hand, typically had that old-man muscle—tight and tough as coils of wet rope but not as flashy.

  I was still surprised to learn that they didn’t recognize me—especially after all of Dorian’s talk about the rumors flying around town about me. I had needed to know—before the figurative bullets began flying—if my cover was blown. If they had been keeping a close eye on me all night, we would have had to switch to Plan B.

  But it looked like we were good to go—which was why I had signaled Dorian to proceed as planned. If I had given him a different signal, he would have pretended to trip into Le Bone rather than bumping the vampire with his elbow—giving me enough time to slip away from the guards as they rushed to protect their boss from the clumsy-footed Dorian Gray.

  The feeling I couldn’t seem to shake was that Le Bone was frequently heard speaking of his job as the equivalent of the Secret Service for his Parisian Master, verifying that Kansas City was secure and safe enough to host his boss in a few days. Which meant he should have been digging into every player in town, making sure they weren’t a threat. And with my newfound reputation, I should have been at the top of his list of people to watch out for. His own guards hadn’t even heard of—or recognized—the resident, white-haired psychopath when she was only inches from their faces. I was like a flashing neon sign for any security group keeping tabs on local dangers for the impending arrival of their boss. Any real security force would have heard of—and taken appropriate action against—Callie Penrose.

  Now, thanks to my investigation, I knew Le Bone had projects on the side, but I hadn’t expected that his entire cover was a blatant lie. Le Bone’s Thugs—heh—weren’t doing what they claimed to be doing and weren’t the prestigious group they declared themselves to be.

  None of this showed on my face as I moved seamlessly towards the man I had waved at behind the guards—the only other partygoer privy to the details of my operation tonight.

  Cain, the world’s first murderer, was currently suffering the amorous affections of two rather senior, rather handsy, women who stood only as tall as his chest, forcing him to have to look down at their flaunted décolletage every time they asked him a question. He looked panicked and a little wild around the eyes.

  Chapter 6

  Cain smiled at me like I was a life preserver in the middle of the ocean after his ship had sunk two days ago, extending a hand to grasp my outstretched palm tighter than necessary. He bowed, kissing it dramatically. The Playboy Grannies paled in fear, seeming to recognize my white hair. I quickly decided there was only one way out of this, killing two birds with one stone. I slapped the back of Cain’s head playfully to let them know he was still on the market for them.

  And that maybe I wasn’t as deadly as they feared.

  Cain shot me a knowing scowl, reading into the real reason for my slap and not approving of being offered up as the sacrificial hunk of meat for these two women to gnaw on. The fear in their eyes faded somewhat and they exchanged a brief, thoughtful look. I instantly began lavishly complimenting their dresses…that they simply must tell me who did their hair, and oh, didn’t Cain look so handsome in his fancy gray suit?

  I risked a glance over my shoulder to verify Dorian had left to do his part for the night. Thankfully, he was gone, so all I had left to do now was wait.

  I leaned in with a mischievous grin, speaking loud enough for Cain to hear clearly. “He’s like an older brother to me, and I have to tell you that I can’t remember the last time any woman—let alone women—held his interest for so long. He’s not an easy one to pin down. He must really enjoy talking to you two.”

  The women were too busy blushing, giggling, and fanning themselves to notice Cain’s face. I could actually feel his immortal soul snarling at me as he smiled with his teeth.

  My charm solidly slipped me into their good graces. They hadn’t seen me murder anyone in the last thirty seconds, and I obviously wasn’t competition for their prize, claiming to be like his younger sister.

  I was awesome in their eyes.

  They doubled down on their efforts to flirt outrageously with Cain, and I watched the train wreck in slow motion, smiling and nodding my head agreeably every now and then as my mind began to wander, hoping Dorian was almost finished with his part of the plan. I found myself considering Cain’s harem, wondering what supernatural family they belonged to. Judging by their obvious age and that I couldn’t sense any wizard or shifter tendencies to them, I was leaning towards witch.

  Which—heh—seemed to be a common occurrence tonight. There were a lot of witches here, and they were likely all members of the Hellfire Club—Dorian’s family, as he’d told me earlier. He was practicing what he preached, bringing an army with him everywhere he went. It brought his earlier points about my lack of purpose and affiliation into perspective—

  “Can we get a picture?” one of the two women asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. I blinked, wondering if I had missed part of her question.

  “Oh! She would love that!” Cain chuckled, ushering me between them before I could come up with a polite reason to decline. I found myself smiling crookedly as Cain snapped a few pictures from three different phones in rapid succession. Wait a minute…three phones? The rat bastard was sneaking in some from his own phone!

  The two clucked excitedly, thanking me as he handed their phones back. It took me a moment to finally process what had just happened. They were…fangirling. Over me. Maybe they just wanted proof to later show their friends that they had drank it up with the infamous White Rose at a ritzy downtown party—and had lived to tell the tale.

  The night was young, though. And things might be getting hairy soon. If Dorian would hurry the hell up.

  Cain tactfully stepped up beside me, draping his arm over my shoulder. “I need to speak to Callie in private for a few minutes. Can you excuse us?” he asked with a warm smile.

  “Oh, don’t be so proper with us, young man!” Then the two began giggling as they made their way over to the bar, shooting playful smiles back at Cain.

  He squeezed my shoulder meaningfully. “Not cool.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You took your own blackmail picture. We’re even.”

  He grunted, muttering under his breath.

  I scanned the room thoughtfully, wanting to ask Cain about Dorian’s conversation—whether he had heard similar rumors about me. I spotted Cleo sipping champagne beside an attractive blonde woman, both smiling at one of the male entertainers. I discreetly pointed Cleo out to Cain. “She’s smart. Maybe too smart. Said her name is Cleo. Know anything about her?”

  Cain followed my gaze, his eyes catching the light looked like early-morning mist. “No. Want me to go talk to her?” he said, eyeing the two women appreciatively.

  I elbowed him in the ribs, eliciting a grunt. “No, creep. Keep an eye on her for me.”

  “Fine,” he sighed in disappointment. “Is everything going according to plan? Any way we can make it less boring for me?”

  I thought about it, understanding his frustration. He had only been a lookout so far, keeping tabs on Le Bone. “What
if everything was on fire? Lots and lots of fire. Fire everywhere,” I suggested, under my breath so as not to be overheard and start a panic.

  “That could work,” he said thoughtfully. He patted the pockets of his linen suit, looking crestfallen. “I don’t have a lighter, though.”

  I sighed. “If it comes to it, I am the lighter. Idiot.”

  He grunted. “Right. Wizard stuff. Cool.”

  Cain was definitely not the brains of our fearsome duo, not by any stretch of the imagination.

  I stared across the room to see Roland, my old mentor, staring back at me with a pensive frown. Being a vampire, he was keeping his distance in such a public setting, but he knew me well enough to know when I was up to something. His past experience as a Shepherd meant he was more inclined to kill threats first, and ask questions later, so I hadn’t shared details on my mission regarding Le Bone. Also, because I knew he wouldn’t approve of me involving myself in vampire drama.

  I was surprised I hadn’t spotted Paradise and Lost—his two pet werewolves. Well, not really pets, but self-proclaimed protectors of the vampire who had single-handedly saved them from Vatican persecution when they were framed for the murder of a Shepherd. The same drama that had forced Roland to become a vampire in the first place.

  It shouldn’t have to be said that Roland did not single-handedly save them, but that his assistant played a small supporting role. But I still found myself reminding the two about it at every opportunity since they couldn’t seem to get it through their flea-brained skulls.

  Anyway…the two werewolves hardly let Roland out of their sight—especially if he was stepping into danger or any kind of public forum. They were attention whores and loved hanging off his arm in public to remind everyone that Roland was the only vampire with two werewolf groupies. Their eyes even matched his—blood red. So, despite them choosing to stand by his side, it was apparent that there was actually something magical about their relationship.

  For them not to be here with Roland…was strange. Unsettling. I hoped everything was okay, telling myself they were probably still trying to get a grip on their ragtag group of werewolves, determined to rebuild the Kansas City pack that had fled a while back.

  If successful, they would be the first female, dual-Alpha werewolves I’d ever heard about.

  Go Team Estrogen!

  I let my concern fade and flashed Roland a reassuring smile, waggling my fingers playfully. The skin at the corners of his crimson eyes tightened dubiously, but he was nodding his head as he listened to Haven beside him. They were having a little business trouble with Haven’s string of night clubs. A new player had come to town in recent months, opening newer, flashier dance clubs a block away from all of Haven’s clubs, offering cheaper drink specials and cover charges to steal Haven’s customers. He’d been unable to discover who was behind it all, but it was too much of a coincidence for a competitor to open near every single one of his establishments.

  I’d done a little digging and learned that Le Bone had frequented each of the competitors’ businesses during his brief stay in town, and that he had been shoveling money to the new club owners for quite some time. The worst part was that the new club owners were just a consortium of pawns, knowing nothing about vampires or the very real turf war they had unwittingly stepped into by accepting Le Bone’s cash and cutting into Haven’s profits. They’d met a friendly French investor who wanted to finance opening up a night club—and he was willing to grant them ownership if they would manage it and give him a percentage of profits for his investment.

  I had considered going straight to Haven with the information but wasn’t sure whether Le Bone had informants in Haven’s inner circle. How else could it have gone undetected for so long? Haven wasn’t incompetent, so he had to have a traitor in his midst.

  I’d also considered giving the information to Roland but hadn’t wanted anyone to see it as Roland making Haven—his Master and Maker—look unfit for his throne.

  The local vampires were still not entirely comfortable with having a once-vampire-hunter-priest turned wizard-vampire as part of their flock. No matter how the cards fell, it probably wouldn’t have helped Roland if he officially had anything to do with taking out Le Bone.

  I’d also considered the salted-earth policy of inviting my Shepherd pal, Fabrizio, over to take out the Eurotrash vampire. But that would have only turned all the supernatural families firmly against the Shepherds, and in effect, Roland and I since we both had past ties to the Vatican.

  I wanted to show Fabrizio that there were subtler ways to handle complicated matters. Basically, to guide them into taking out their own trash. Since I was impatient, I hadn’t wanted to wait until Haven and his crew finally realized what was happening on their own.

  And I won’t lie. Setting up traps like this was fun—probably more fuel for the fiery rumors blazing through the streets of Kansas City about me. Callie Penrose. The White Rose. The wizard kissed by Heaven. The Freak Hunter of Kansas City.

  I watched one of Haven’s vampires urgently lean in to give his Master some unpleasant news and hand him a phone. Haven’s face darkened into a thunderhead of rage…

  And the White Rose bloomed with pride.

  Chapter 7

  Haven snapped a terse command to one of his men, and then Roland leaned closer to speak in his ear. I hoped it wasn’t to cast suspicion on me, because I hadn’t decided whether or not I wanted to take credit yet. It would be best if the vampires handled this internally. Better for them. Whatever Roland said calmed the Master of Kansas City. Somewhat.

  He was still furious but looked composed. And he didn’t look my way, which was a plus.

  Four vampires began snaking towards us through the crowd. Le Bone was still standing a few feet ahead of us, busy trying to flirt with the server he’d had his eye on earlier—not poor Tyler, like Dorian had suggested. She looked politely disinterested—the bane of a server’s life—batting off unwanted affections while trying to earn a tip.

  Le Bone only had one tip in mind, though, and it was apparent to me, a fellow woman, that she didn’t want it. I knew she also wouldn’t appreciate the tips of his fangs if she was too vehement in her denial. But this was a party of monsters, so I was betting Dorian had trained his employees well and that she could probably handle herself if necessary.

  Le Bone’s Thugs must have sensed some change in the atmosphere, because they were squinting at the parting crowd as Haven’s enforcers headed our way.

  Le Bone—either because he was a coward or a very wise man—had been careful to maintain his distance from the local vampires throughout the course of the evening. I silently stepped up behind the guards, placed the knuckles of each hand on their lower backs, and whispered evenly. “If you even breathe too deeply, my silver blades will sever your spine. It won’t feel too nice for you and it will stain my dress. That’s when my friend will get upset. He really likes this dress.”

  The two vampire guards froze obediently as Cain stepped into their view. “It’s a very nice dress,” he said in a soft voice. “I’m sure you’ve heard all about the White Rose, so let’s not waste time with overly messy introductions.”

  By their stiff nods, it turned out they had heard my nickname—they just hadn’t connected it with me, the pretty girl in the dress. I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or annoyed.

  Le Bone was completely oblivious, reaching out to the arm of the server who was artfully skipping from his grasp. Good girl, I thought to myself. That’s when he finally noticed Haven’s four enforcers surrounding him. He risked a glance over his shoulder to find his own two guards incapacitated. He snarled defiantly, but one of the enforcers cleared his throat.

  “Haven demands your presence. Let’s not make a scene.”

  Le Bone’s lips curled back. “Demands?” he sputtered incredulously in his utterly non-intimidating French accent. “You subdue my two guards and tell me not to make a scene? The Sanguine Council will hear all about—”


  “I’m sure they will love to hear the story,” the enforcer interrupted drily. “But that depends on if you survive long enough to tell them. For now, please accompany me.”

  Le Bone shot a furious glare at Cain. Then he shared that look with me, seeming surprised to discover that I was the one keeping them in line. “Release my guards.”

  I shrugged and stepped away. “I just wanted to pinch their asses, but they were so coy about it, not wanting their boss to see.”

  The two guards stepped clear from me with their chests puffed out, attempting to deny my accusation with their aggressive body language—but it was so overdone that it only seemed to lend credibility to my claim, making several in the crowd openly chuckle. The enforcers encircled them, and then promptly escorted the trio towards Haven. I glanced around to make sure Dorian was nowhere nearby. I found him near the bar, preparing to do a body-shot off of a particularly buxom troll’s belly button. Cain’s Playboy Grannies were leading the chant for the small crowd cheering Dorian on. It looked like the Chancery had sent a representative, after all. And I was going to miss meeting the big beautiful woman! The small crowd around Dorian roared as he knocked back the shot and held out a hand to help the beastly broad to her feet—which was hilarious, considering the incredible size difference between the two. He seemed oblivious to the drama regarding Le Bone.

  But the rest of the party had noticeably hushed, snapped out of their party cheer as they sensed the sudden tension in the air—the apparent prisoners being escorted through the crowd by vampire Moses parting the party’s Red Sea. Perfect.

  I followed in their wake, tugging Cain along with me but keeping out of sight of Haven. Roland discreetly tracked my movement with a tightness around his lips, but I ignored his judging look. I was experienced at evading it after more than a decade under his tutelage.