Whispers Page 11

  And then we climbed into my truck and left.

  Chapter 21

  We sat in the training room, clearing our heads. Roland had barely spoken a dozen words since leaving Haven. I had so many questions. Could he still use his magic? What was our plan? How were we going to get to Rome? The Doors? Did he have anyone he trusted there? Did he have any idea where we would begin our search? What could I expect at my hearing? Would the Conclave or other Shepherds already know about Roland’s change? What would we do when they ultimately found out? Because at some point, they would find out, and all hell would break loose when they learned we had chosen not to forewarn them.

  Basically, we were both going to be fugitives soon, no matter what happened. We might have time to save the girls first, or not. The end was already determined for Roland. We were just watching the clock, hoping to do some good before the buzzer sounded.

  The conclusion wouldn’t be a sunny day in paradise.

  Well, Roland would never have a sunny day in paradise, now. No sun at all, actually.

  Roland checked the duffel full of blood bags Haven had left us. I had picked them up without issue, thankful that none of his people had seen me or else all sorts of problems would have resulted. The blood bags were concealed under a false bottom in the duffel bag. The Master vampire had also left some magical sunscreen with a note that told us it would give Roland a few hours of protection, enough time to seek shelter and hide his affliction.

  Hopefully Haven could keep his vampires from getting word to the Sanguine Council about Roland becoming a vampire. At least the recording of his turning had been destroyed. Now we just had to race word of mouth as the vampires bragged about turning a Shepherd. Roland had taken the video of the murder and hidden it in the church, not daring to take it with us.

  I was also acutely aware that Haven had put himself at great risk. Granted, he got Roland in exchange, but he was still playing a very dangerous game with his own people. If they found out what he was doing – lying to his Council – he would be punished, as would Roland. And then the Conclave would find out, and doubly murder us.

  “Embrace the suck,” I said out loud like a mantra. “Embrace the suck.”

  Roland grunted. “Vampire jokes already?” he said in a low tone, emotionless.

  I winced, not having considered that. “No. I didn’t even think about that,” I said honestly. Stupid idiot, I chided myself.

  “I kind of liked it. Embrace the suck,” he repeated. Then I heard a faint chuckle. I looked up at him to see his shoulders shaking slightly.

  “You okay, Roland?” I asked nervously. We couldn’t afford to have him falling to pieces.

  His laughter cut off abruptly, filling the room with silence. My heart broke. Poor Roland.

  “I’m… sorry, Callie. I let you down,” he whispered, almost too low for me to hear.

  “No, Roland. Don’t apologize. That’s the beauty of paying the piper. You don’t have to apologize after payment, otherwise what’s the point?” I said, sniffling slightly.

  “You can’t even look at me.”

  I gasped, jumping to my feet to stare at him directly. “Roland!” I shouted.

  He slowly turned to look at me, face devoid of any life. Embracing the suck.

  “That’s not what I’m doing,” I argued. “I couldn’t care less about you being a vampire. I don’t judge others on what they are. I judge others on what they do. And what you did is sacrifice everything you hold most dear to help your friends. Two living friends, and one friend who was murdered in cold blood. That was the most selfless act I have ever seen,” I said, voice shaking with anger, pain, and sadness. “I can’t look at you because right now, all I can see is the loss in your eyes. I know how much this cost you, and it hurts me to see you in pain.”

  He took a deep breath, and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “I’m sorry for looking so pitiful. I just…” he trailed off, eyes growing distant. “Everything that made me who I was… all I ever stood for… I just traded it in to become exactly what I’ve hunted for so long,” he said. He no longer sounded sad, just… cold. A statement of fact.

  “This doesn’t change the man inside, Roland. That’s up to you. It changes a lot of things, but not your core. Consider it a shitty haircut that won’t go away,” I teased, smiling hopefully.

  He smiled crookedly.

  “Except… I’ll have to kill at least one person,” he said tiredly.

  I bared my teeth in a feral smile. “Then let’s make sure that person deserves it…”

  He blinked at me, as if the idea hadn’t registered before now, which was surprising. It had been the first thing I thought of. A very wolfish grin split his cheeks. “That… sounds quite agreeable, Callie.” I saw the flush of purpose suddenly fill his body as he found a way to make his curse the tool for his vengeance.

  “Damned right,” I said. “We’ll kill him with your shitty haircut.” Roland burst out laughing and I let out a sigh of relief. Baby steps. Keep his humanity in check. The golden necklace Haven had given him hung outside his shirt – a Greek Drachma. Haven’s amulet. “How’s that holding up?” I asked. We were in Abundant Angel Catholic Church, but I had yet to see him recoil in pain being so near to religious paraphernalia.

  He glanced down, thumbing it thoughtfully. “No issue whatsoever. I think I’m going to keep it, no matter what Haven says,” he added in a threatening tone. I shrugged.

  “Sounds fair to me. We can be very convincing.”

  He smiled faintly. “I hope his sunscreen works.”

  “It’s not a perfect solution. You can’t just hang out in the sun all day, but he said it will give you a few hours without harm. Enough to find shade.” I stared directly into his eyes, thinking of what else we may need. I had asked him about the scars on his body, the ones that had disappeared. He had looked disturbed, but told me to focus on the task at hand. We had enough on our plate already. On that note, he also encouraged me to stay guarded when in Rome – not to share anything about the Whispers, Angels, my new powers, or my vision quest.

  We were all set.

  “Let’s find this son of a bitch, Roland. He betrayed everything and everyone. Either the Conclave is fully aware and corrupt from within, or they have no idea. This person must have some serious clout if they’ve been able to frame the wolves so easily.

  Roland’s lips thinned. He had caught me up on the Conclave and how they operated. I had always thought the Pope ran things, but apparently not. The Pope was aware and supportive of our group, but we were independent. Kind of like how a new U.S. President was briefed on all the secret departments behind the scenes when he first took office. The Pope had veto power, but otherwise left us alone. He had the rest of the world to look after. He let a group of seven wizard Cardinals run the Shepherds, and they called themselves the Conclave.

  It wasn’t a requirement for them to be ex-Shepherds – because many Shepherds didn’t make it to retirement age. They also weren’t required to be wizards, but the current members were.

  “We’re walking into a den of vipers. If they are truly innocent, they won’t like us stomping all over their investigation. And the killer will do whatever causes the most chaos. Basically, we will be watched, and we will be watching them. Anything too overt and they will get suspicious. We need to be very, very careful with how we approach any questions,” he said. Then he took me in with a regretful sigh. “Which means you probably won’t become a Shepherd, after all.”

  I shrugged. “We’re doing the right thing. That’s all I need,” I said. I didn’t say win, win.

  But I definitely thought it.

  “It’s going to be tough keeping your secret. You’ll have to stay calm.” He nodded, his eyes reflecting the same advice, to keep my own secrets close. He was right. The Conclave finding out I had Angel blood wouldn’t be beneficial. I straightened the backpack on my shoulders. “You ready to go vamp out in the church of all churches?” I asked him, trying not to fidget with
the thrill of danger looming before us.

  A devilish grin split his cheeks, revealing his fangs. He held up a palm, and a red ball of fire popped into existence above his palm. I didn’t clap in glee to see that he still had magic, but I definitely felt a huge wave of relief. The color made sense, but at the same time it made me leery. Would his tainted magic cause suspicion?

  “I’ve still got some of my old tricks,” he chuckled darkly. “Let’s put them to use.”

  He flung his hand out and a Gateway appeared. We both froze.

  The Gateway didn’t resemble the typical doorway of sparks. Instead it was a rippling oval of crimson-hued liquid, like blood. Although vertical, it looked like we were peering at a distant apartment through a pond. We shared a very thoughtful look before I extended my foot through the rippling Gateway. Other than a small shiver on contact, nothing was different. I wanted Roland to see me trusting him completely. This new magic was just one of the things we both had to get used to. But it didn’t hurt to bring up a good point. I smiled back at him encouragingly.

  “It tickles,” I said with a shrug. “But let’s limit your use of magic in the Vatican. Just in case…” Then I stepped all the way through, having faith in my mentor’s magic.

  Chapter 22

  I studied the room of the apartment, ready for an attack. Everything was dusty, but nothing leapt out to kill me. I glanced down at my hands, fearing to see myself covered in blood or something from Roland’s strange Gateway. But I was perfectly fine. His vampire powers were having unique effects on his magic, but I was simply glad to see that he still had magic.

  Roland had chosen to use a Gateway to get to Rome – to a safe house he owned under a false name, not tied to the Vatican. We had briefly considered using one of the Doors to travel here, but after careful deliberation had decided against it. Who knew what would happen to a vampire that went through a door taking us to the Vatican? Also, using the doors might alert everyone to our early arrival, and we didn’t yet know who we could trust, or who the traitor – or traitors – were.

  Since my hearing wasn’t until tomorrow, we had a full day to do some investigating into the murder, hopefully enough time to solve it before anyone was even aware of our presence. Not that I had any idea of where to begin since I had never been to Rome before.

  I watched Roland step through his Gateway. He looked thoughtful as he studied it for a moment. Seeing no ill effects, he released it, the apartment falling to silence. He shrugged at my look. “No magic is probably a good idea…” he said. Then he opened his duffel bag and took out a pile of the bags. He rolled back a rug, lifted a board in the floor that looked like all the others, and stuffed the blood bags inside. He looked up at me and shrugged. “Just in case,” he said, returning everything to normal. He zipped up the bag and hefted it over his shoulder, popping on some suave sunglasses, making him look like a distinguished badass in his casual blue suit and white shirt. I’d tried getting him to add some ruffles as tribute to his new powers. He had glared.

  “Let’s grab some food and get a feel for the streets,” I said, shouldering my own backpack and readjusting my blue scarf. I wore navy capris pants and gold sequined flats. My blue and white striped top was concealed by my white jacket, and my own oversized sunglasses and red lipstick made us look like either celebrities or the worst kind of tourists. Our clothes would attract moderate attention and then we’d be dismissed for what we obviously appeared to be.

  Hiding in plain sight.

  Roland grunted his agreement and we exited the apartment. We had left our phones and wallets behind in Kansas City, not wanting to have any identification on us. Because showing up in Italy without a passport would be a bad idea. If we were swept up by the local police, we could always use magic to get home before they dug too deeply into our background. We would pick up some burner phones and use cash. Like terrorists. I reminded myself to give Claire my temporary number. It was a standing rule between us. Always have a method of communication.

  We walked down a flight of stairs and were soon on ground level near a large fountain and a bunch of tourists. The late morning sun shone down on us and I instinctively shot a look at Roland, making sure he wasn’t a pile of ash. He lifted his face to the sky, a faint smile tugging his cheeks. Phew. A man spontaneously combusting on the street would have attracted unwanted attention. And I didn’t have time to baby Roland’s sunburn with vamploe-vera.

  I took a deep breath, inhaling all that was Rome, which was a mistake. It didn’t smell as pretty as the pictures made it look, but the architecture was astonishing. Even the normal shops and businesses had an eclectic feel to them. But we weren’t here to sightsee. We had a job to do, and limited time to do it. I followed Roland to a small electronics store, and twenty minutes later we had new phones in case of an emergency. I shot Claire a text, telling her I was out of town and this was my temporary number. Then we headed to a small restaurant with an outdoor seating area several blocks from the apartment. We ordered some espresso since we hadn’t gotten any sleep, and a large tray of meats and cheeses. As an afterthought, Roland chuckled and asked for a bottle of Brunello, shrugging at the waiter. “We’re on vacation, right?”

  The waiter gave us a practiced smile and soon returned with our drinks and food.

  I shook my head at Roland, smirking. “Red wine? Nice touch. We’re definitely tourists in his eyes.” I wasn’t against his consumption of alcohol or anything, but I was surprised to see him doing so much of it lately. I was pretty sure the waiter had already pegged us as tourists, but it never hurt to reaffirm assumptions when trying to conceal your true purposes.

  He shrugged, sipping his wine. I heard a faint clink as his fangs clicked the glass. I stilled, hoping he hadn’t broken it. He looked angry, using his hand to wipe his stubble absently, but really checking his fangs.

  “You’re going to need to work on that,” I said under my breath. Then, “This is really good, baby.” I giggled loud enough for those nearby to acknowledge the ignorant Americans with a weary grunt.

  He nodded. “Much better than back home, honey.” He took another cautious sip, and then leaned forward over the meat tray, inspecting the options. “I got a whiff of the woman behind me and they just popped out,” he murmured, barely louder than breathing. He was very carefully masking his frustration and embarrassment, but I knew him too well.

  I placed a hand on his, smiling up at him adoringly. “You can do this,” I encouraged.

  He nodded, plucking up a piece of meat. He stuck it in his mouth and I saw his lips immediately clamp shut, as if trying to prevent himself from spitting it out. He forced himself to swallow, taking another sip of wine to wash it down.

  I studied him. Could he not eat regular food anymore? That could be a problem if others caught on that he never ate. He waved a hand absently. “It’s not terrible. I’m just not as hungry as I thought, but this wine is quite good.” Translation – I can eat, but I don’t enjoy it.

  I nodded. “More for me.” I casually glanced around us, pretending to take in all the sights. I could see the top of the Vatican from here, but it was still a good distance away. Tourists with cameras flocked near the fountain, taking pictures of a horde of pigeons. None of the other diners were very close, definitely not close enough to overhear if we spoke softly.

  “We should pick up a Bloody Mary next. I’ve had a craving for them ever since that one you ordered on the plane.” Roland nodded hungrily, and I hid the small shiver that went down my spine. That sounded good to him. But not the drink, just the fact that he could mix it with blood.

  The steady flow of tourists walking by the small metal gate by our table was constant, and most of them seemed to be American, which was good for us. As much as being in a crowd of strangers didn’t feel great when I didn’t know who we could trust, it was also the best place to hide. One man stopped to take a picture of the fountain, shifting his camera to get the perfect backdrop. I watched him waddle away after a few clicks. I let o
ut a nervous breath.

  I noticed a man studying me from across the street. He flinched when I saw him. Then he extinguished his cigarette on the sidewalk, scowling. He entered a butcher shop and I saw him tie on an apron through the window. A butcher, not a spy. I needed to get a grip. Glaring at everyone who looked at me would be bad for my sanity.

  I leaned closer to Roland, an excited smile plastered on my face as if anxious to get to the sightseeing. “Where to next?” I asked him.

  “How about the Vatican?” a new voice said. We both tensed like startled deer as we saw a man peel out of a nearby crowd. He wore jeans and a light gray sweater. I had seen him pause to take a few pictures, but had dismissed him as harmless. He was facing us from only a few feet away on the opposite side of the small fence surrounding the outdoor seating area, and I realized I was gripping the butter knife in my palm under the table.

  Chapter 23

  Roland’s lips ticked up into a smile – but I could see the hidden tension in his shoulders. He knew this man, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. It also didn’t bode well that he had found us less than thirty minutes after our arriving in Rome. Or less than thirty minutes since he’d had enough time to stalk us and hide in a crowd outside our restaurant.

  Roland shook his head in surprised excitement. The man returned the look, not approaching at first. His smile seemed genuine, and he didn’t move until Roland stood from his chair to reach out a hand. And… it felt like a respectful motion. The man giving Roland a moment to digest the surprise before he locked grips with Roland in a big hug, patting him on the back. He was a very handsome middle-aged man with thick dark hair and pearly white teeth. His nose was slightly crooked and I could see the scars on his knuckles.