Sinner: Feathers and Fire Book 5 Read online

  We struck the crisp water loudly enough that if any of the people around the fountain had failed to spot us appearing out of thin air above it, they had most definitely heard our splash at its base. They hadn’t been attacking each other, so were apparently all hesitant allies—Sons of Solomon, as Cleo had called them. Which sucked, because we were not an ally, and now had a dysfunctional family to stand up against.

  I breached the shallow water and flung up my hand, calling upon my magical fan to catch the anticipated barrage of bullets as I tried to understand what had gone so wrong with my Shadow Walking. It hadn’t felt like an attack from a fellow wizard, but like something in the air itself had resisted my use of Shadow Walking. Maybe it was a ward to prevent some thieving wizard from jumping in at the last minute to steal the message they thought was a treasure map to Solomon’s Temple. They were going to be sorely disappointed if they ever read it, because the message had been totally unhelpful. Definitely not directions on how to find the Temple.

  Cain, apparently not trusting or not seeing my defensive fan, abruptly tackled me back into the water just as bullets began to fly. He dragged me—unconcerned with my spluttering and choking—behind the massive throne as the bullets pinged and whined off the beautiful marble.

  He gripped my shoulders, staring at me with a frantic expression, likely wondering why the hell I had sent us to the top of the fountain rather than Roland’s church.

  “It wasn’t me!” I hissed. “Something’s messing with my magic,” I told him.

  The realization that our escape now rested firmly on his shoulders turned his face in to a grim, determined mask. Like he had just rolled up his sleeves for a day’s work. He was a warrior, not a sneaky wizard. Which meant blood would soon flow if our escape plan was solely up to him. And with the number of guns and potions just around the corner—and my magic unpredictable—one of us might not be making it to Roland’s church.

  “We’re going to have to kill them all. They won’t listen to reason,” he growled, eyes alert to either side. “You ready?” he asked, shaking me to snap me out of it.

  I nodded woodenly, understanding that he was probably right. These Sons of Solomon were freaking insane. Whoever they were. I frowned suddenly, realizing the guns had stopped firing.

  Cain had gritted his teeth, taking it as a sign of worse danger. He shoved me flat against the marble throne and peered around the corner quickly. Almost immediately, he jerked back, his face pale and disbelieving like he had just seen Abel’s ghost.

  “Shit,” he breathed, eyes dancing wildly. I stared at him, waiting for something more helpful. But that was pretty much the extent of his analysis.

  “What?” I hissed, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we weren’t being flanked.

  “The Last Breath,” Cain whispered in a haunted tone, holding his finger to his lips for me to be silent. “Maybe he didn’t notice us.”

  Seeing the raw terror in Cain’s eyes, I didn’t argue or badger him with questions. As a rule, Cain never got scared. He actually relished the fight. Even the fear of death—if such a thing was possible for the immortal murderer. But this Last Breath person had him shaken.

  He slowly crouched down into the shallow water, motioning for me to do the same after pointing out the drops of water falling from my clothes. I didn’t point out that the sound of the gurgling fountain probably masked the sound of a few drops, and instead obeyed his request. We sat in the shadow of the throne, and I was suddenly grateful that the moon didn’t reach us.

  Cain leaned in close, his face almost unclear in the darkness as he pressed me against the wall and literally breathed an update into my ear, softer than a hummingbird flapping his wings. “They are all dead.”

  My hair might have climbed off my scalp at that. Half a dozen people murdered without a sound? What the hell? Cain nodded and slowly lifted a finger to his lips. I tried to calm my racing heart, the pool of water tickling the base of my chin as we sat in the bloody water, eyes dancing about for any sign of threat. Michael had warned me that an answer to my three problems was imminent, that I needed to learn how to use the Seal of Solomon to lock up Nameless, among other things.

  Right before a deadly quest leading to Solomon’s Temple plopped into my lap. I wasn’t sure how any of it actually tied into his warnings, but it seemed to be related. But how in the world was I supposed to find the Temple before these Sons of Solomon—who had spent their entire lives researching Solomon lore, waiting for this exact day? I knew pretty much nothing about Solomon, even though I was his descendent, and the message on the fountain had sure seemed to confer that a whole lot of wisdom and mental acrobatics would be needed to win.

  But none of that mattered right now. Because some psychopath named Last Breath was here.

  And I couldn’t Shadow Walk us to safety. Either my quest was over before it had begun…

  Or we stayed silently sitting in this dark pool, hoping Last Breath wasn’t smart enough to walk around the back of the fountain. Overall, this was a very unique experience for me. To sit in the dark and hide from a monster, like a Regular. I almost cried out as I saw a form silently stalking near the tree line, its back to us.

  Last Breath.

  It seemed to be sniffing the air, moving in utter silence on two legs like a man, but it was significantly larger than any human I had ever seen. Since it kept to the shadows of the trees, the moon did not illuminate it clearly. But it seemed to be wearing all white, almost smoking with white vapor of some kind. A concealment spell?

  Cain gripped my arm tighter, drawing me lower into the water so that only my eyes were above the surface. I held my breath and watched as the silhouette abruptly dart closer in a white blur, trailing the ledge of the pool now. His sapphire blue eyes seemed to sparkle despite no light hitting them. Like two tiny blue flames. But…he wasn’t in the shadows any longer, so why was the moon not illuminating him?

  Those eyes locked directly onto mine for a few heart-stopping moments and I fought not to move or even blink, hoping that the shadow of the throne was dark enough to hide us.

  Those blue eyes held death like an old blanket. He was death. He was all.

  I had never felt so small in my entire life. When I had seen Nate Temple step out of literal Hell, his eyes hadn’t been that cold. Not by a long shot.

  Then the figure was gone, completing his circuit of the fountain. Cain squeezed tighter, meeting my eyes. He slowly lifted his lips above the water. He opened his mouth, not even breathing the words, just moving his lips. Deep breath. Long time. Then he mimed taking a deep, silent breath, and lowered his head entirely underwater.

  I did the same, as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb the water in the slightest. I was beginning to feel the cold settling into my bones, but judging by the look in Cain’s eyes I didn’t dare disobey. The moment before I submerged, I looked up to see that Last Breath was now perched on the ledge itself, its two blue eyes, scanning right to left in my direction, not even a dozen paces away. All I could make out was a large white blur as if he was the color of the moon, only his icy blue eyes were crystal clear.

  The cold water enveloped me a moment before his gaze reached me, and it was all I could do not to open my eyes under the water—even knowing it was full of blood—because I felt like I had just kissed death on the nose.

  Cain gripped my hand and squeezed tightly, trying to reassure me.

  I don’t think I ever held my breath that long before. Definitely a record. I even waited until I was seeing stars through my eyelids before risking a breath.

  My eyes opened almost immediately as I fought not to shiver. Last Breath was gone.

  Cain still made us wait fifteen minutes before we dared risk exiting the pool.

  I would have waited thirty minutes without an argument. Hell, I would have spent an hour in that cold water. I don’t think I’d ever felt so helpless in my entire life. Not even when I’d had my first run-in with the supernatural as a teen in that dark alley when
Claire and I had been assaulted. When Roland had saved us, introducing me to the world of magic.

  Speaking of…I decided a girl could use a father figure after an experience like that. Cain didn’t argue. Perhaps he needed a father figure, too.

  Chapter 18

  We burst into Roland’s church like the dogs of Hell were on our heels, slamming the massive wooden door behind us with a loud thud that echoed through the decrepit building. We were both panting as we leaned our backs against it.

  Cain closed his eyes with a relieved sigh. “Too close. Way too fucking close, Callie.”

  I closed my eyes, too, murmuring my agreement. I had stored some extra clothes and weapons here, and knew Roland would have something for Cain to change into. We could dry off, warm up, talk to Roland, and try to figure out what we wanted to do next. Per my new rules, I just needed to focus on two steps at a time—

  A throat cleared, making me jump and my eyes shoot wide open.

  At the end of the nave near the pulpit, two men stood beside some lawn chairs and one of those cheap, standing fire pits found at most home improvements stores—but those didn’t typically blaze with crimson flames. Only Roland’s fire pits did that.

  Roland’s crimson eyes pinned me to the door like spears, looking a little wild around the edges—flashing from relieved, to suddenly very, very concerned.

  Because he wasn’t alone. A second man stared at us from across the nave.

  Looks like I found my two steps, I thought to myself, climbing to my feet. I straightened my coat and met Cain’s eyes, silently asking if he knew the second man. Cain shook his head almost imperceptibly. We made our way to the pulpit, both staring at the fire hungrily. Even if it was wizard’s fire, it promised warmth.

  “You’re alive,” Roland growled as we reached the fire, his voice dripping with fury.

  I maintained a safe distance from the stranger, ignoring the curious look in his eyes as I turned to Roland. Something about his face told me not to speak anything that I didn’t want made public, but I only knew that because I had known Roland my whole life.

  “Alive, but cold. Rough night,” I told him, voice neutral.

  “What she said,” Cain agreed, folding his arms as he placed himself between me and the stranger. A sudden shriek from deep within the bowels of the church made me jolt. It sounded like a man being tortured. I arched a brow at Roland.

  “Le Bone,” he said in a flat tone. “May I introduce Miss Callie Penrose and Cain,” Roland said, holding out a hand to us. “And this is Henri Bellerose, the Master Vampire of Paris. He just finished a private conversation with Le Bone,” he added with a meaningful smirk.

  My skin crawled at that, suddenly realizing—in a vague way—why Le Bone had screamed loud enough for us to hear upstairs. It must have been a very difficult conversation for Le Bone.

  Henri smiled pleasantly, nodding at Cain and then me. Those eyes were too inquisitive for my tastes. “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet…”

  My eyes narrowed and I opened my mouth to put him in his place for attempting flirtation, but he waved a hand good-naturedly.

  “My name is Henri Bellerose, and you are Callie Penrose,” he explained, emphasizing the rose in both our names. Le Bone shrieked again, and Henri shrugged innocently. “I wanted to verify the allegations for myself. Le Bone’s guilt weighs heavily on his soul, as you can tell by his shameful whimpering. I hear I have you to thank for the evidence,” he said, smiling gratefully.

  I nodded slowly, careful not to gloat at the psychopath. “Yes.”

  “Then, thank you,” he said with a dip of his chin.

  Henri was a handsome man with rich brown hair held back in a ponytail. His features were harsh and angular, his jawline sharp enough to deflect a sword, and his eyes twinkled with a gray so pale they were almost white. He was very tall and lithe, like a scarecrow, but I knew it was a deception. Something about him screamed power and strength—like a cheetah. Perhaps not as large and intimidating as his brethren wildcat felines, but as if he lived on the edge, always a breath away from a brutal, whip-quick lethality.

  Henri also knew he was handsome. He had that French accent that drove so many women wild. It did nothing for me—but maybe that was influenced by the…shameful whimpering accent in the background. He looked younger than I had anticipated, but that was often par for the course when it came to vampires. He was probably a few hundred years old, despite his roguish mid-thirties look. From the tightness to Roland’s eyes, I also assumed he was quite powerful.

  “Shouldn’t you be meeting with Haven?” I asked, remembering that Le Bone’s primary fault had been not meeting with the Master of Kansas City.

  Henri smiled in amusement, picking up on my not-so-subtle hint. “I received permission to enter his city, yes. Haven encouraged me to visit Roland’s…church to see Le Bone for myself.”

  “He was just leaving,” Roland said politely, turning to Henri. “Unless there was anything else you wished to discuss?”

  Henri chuckled. “Swiftly done, Roland. We shall meet again to discuss Le Bone’s very brief, anguished existence. I implore you to play with him a bit, perhaps see what other activities he had his hands in while here. You will find no repercussions from me. Do your worst.”

  Roland dipped his head.

  Henri smiled wider. “Think on what else we discussed, Roland. We have great plans for you.”

  Roland’s posture grew harder, but I doubted anyone—even Cain and Henri—noticed the subtle shift. “I have no desire for greatness, but I will consider it. I can deliver you to Haven’s compound immediately.”

  Henri held up a finger. “I would like a private word with the infamous White Rose, first, but I will accept your offer, after.” I was surprised to hear he had heard my nickname, but I didn’t let it show on my face.

  “Callie does as she chooses,” Roland replied. “It’s safer for everyone.” He shot me a questioning look to let me answer for myself.

  “I have urgent business with Roland, but I have a few minutes to spare,” I lied.

  Henri nodded his understanding. “Then let us be brief,” he said, indicating for me to join him as we walked down the nave. I felt Roland watching us like a hawk as he spoke in low tones to Cain. I watched Henri from the corner of my sight, wondering why we needed a private conversation. Then again, I figured I had likely brought this upon myself by inserting myself into vampire politics with Le Bone, so it would be unwise for me to dismiss Henri’s request.

  Once again, I was reminded that I really needed to find my purpose in life. Not to continue sticking my nose into business that I didn’t really care about long term. By poking so many hornets’ nests, I was drawing unwanted attention—all because the thrill of the initial chase with Le Bone had sounded entertaining and worthwhile. Now, I had to suffer through his boss thanking me. Or threatening me. Only time would tell.

  “When I learned of Le Bone’s betrayal, I hastened my visit,” Henri explained.

  I found myself wondering exactly how he had arrived so quickly. Perhaps he employed a wizard to make him Gateways. As the Master of such a major city as Paris, he likely had all sorts of pull and power.

  It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility for him to secretly have a few wizards as pets in his basement. I was speaking with one of the big boys.

  And big boys liked big toys.

  And they played for keeps.

  Chapter 19

  He guided me over to the statue of Nameless, on prominent display near the wall. The Master of Paris dipped his chin ever so slightly, indicating it. “Why do I sense so much anger from this stunning artifact? Perhaps it does not like my presence?” he asked thoughtfully.

  He was pointing at the statue. I frowned, not sensing anything of the sort. “Um…”

  Henri turned to face me, looking slightly surprised. “You do not sense it?”

  I shook my head. “But he was kind of an asshole in the flesh, so I can’t say I’m surprised.�
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  Henri’s eyes widened minutely, but on his carefully composed face it was a shout. “You…” he murmured, stepping back from the statue and dragging me with him, not even aware he was doing it, “you’re telling me he was an actual Angel, and not a magical artifact?”

  I resettled my balance, unhooking my arm from his in case he decided to run. “Yes. We had a disagreement.”

  “You trapped an Angel because you…disagreed with him,” he repeated flatly.

  “Well, I technically caught him as he Fell, but that sounds emasculating and inaccurate,” I admitted, staring at the statue. To me, it felt inanimate, but my thumb was practically smoking with arctic violence. Nameless wasn’t pleased at the discussion. Maybe that was what Henri was sensing.

  “Even in Paris, people spread rumors about the White Rose, but I never heard anything about this…” Henri said carefully. He reconsidered the silver statue, shaking his head slightly. “Mon Dieu!” he added as an afterthought.

  I was startled to hear my name had spread to Paris, but that last comment made my eyebrows almost jump off my forehead. I didn’t speak French, but I knew Dieu was the word for God. It was definitely not typical for a vampire to be able to speak the Lord’s name. And for the first time, I remembered we were standing inside a church. Henri should be bursting with flame right about now. It also told me why the vampire downstairs was still screaming. He was bound on Holy Ground, the very location likely torturing him in steady, relentless agony.

  Unless…my actions with Nameless had desecrated the place, which I hadn’t thought of up until right freaking now. Holy crap.

  The only reason Roland was able to stand inside a church was because Haven had given him an old necklace designed to protect vampires from that very thing. With his background as a Shepherd, we had all been concerned that Roland was very likely to fall into old habits—accidentally saying, “Bless the Lord,” and getting smited by a bolt of lightning.