Unchained: Feathers and Fire Book 1 Read online

  But… all of those things just sounded like purgatory to me. Boring. And dating a Regular would mean I had to hide the biggest part of myself from them.

  Not even considering the few Regulars that had suddenly grown very interested to hear I worked at a church, almost as if it were a sign that I was immediately fertile, ready to settle down, be obedient, and start cranking out babies. A beautiful, tame cat to be placed on a shelf, or tucked inside an expensive minivan or Cadillac Escalade.

  Those dates had ended very quickly, much to their shock.

  So, a small part of me grew very disappointed to find that this interesting nerd would ultimately lead to another life of boredom. Not that I was looking for my one true love, but knowing it was destined for failure from the start kind of put a speed-bump on the date. Even though he didn’t know it yet.

  I maintained my façade through the conversation, keeping these thoughts from my face, but I found him watching me more intently, almost as if sensing something. I bit back a sigh, answering his questions and asking a few of my own, hoping I wasn’t sounding rude or uncaring.

  But my thoughts wandered.

  I had even tried dating Freaks a few times. They were fine, but a consistent trait usually seemed to rear up, even if well-hidden at first. It was that every single Freak I had met ultimately wound up wanting more from the world. More power. More fame. More something. And they saw my magic as a tool to achieve that. They all seemed power-hungry.

  So, my love life was pretty nonexistent. Regulars were too boring, Freaks were too power-hungry. Like Goldilocks, one bed was too soft, another too hard, one porridge was too cold, another too hot. I had yet to find the one that was just right.

  Then again, I knew I had baggage of my own. A broken past that haunted me.

  I realized that the conversation had faded, and that I was absently staring off towards the doors, waiting for a cue to leave. We had finished our meals, and although I had had a good time, I realized I was ready to get back to the task at hand, to meet up with Nate to plan—

  “I have an admission to make, and you might think I’m crazy for it…” He adjusted his glasses on his nose, a nervous gesture.

  I sighed inwardly. He was going to profess his undying love for me, or a request for a second date, or his grand plans at achieving greatness in the Regular world. Although that was great for him, it held zero interest to me. I opened my mouth to politely tell him that I really had to go.

  “I think…” his eyes darted around the room, as if verifying we were alone, “magic is real.” He leaned closer. “Call me crazy, but I’ve watched a lot of videos that make me believe it must be real.” He studied my face, waiting for a reaction.

  I simply stared at him as if he had sprouted horns. He must have taken my reaction poorly, because he quickly pressed on. “I’m not some conspiracy theorist, but I’ve spent quite a bit of time researching it…”

  Maybe not your typical Regular after all… I could imagine this handsome nerd spending hours trolling the dark web for proof of magic. It almost made me smile.

  “That is… very brave for you to admit.”

  He grunted, shrugging off my statement. “It’s not like you’re one of them.” His eyes grew faraway. “I’ve seen things myself, too. Unexplainable things. Truly amazing things. Just imagine how much better the world would be if they didn’t have to hide it… They must be real.” He added this last with a firm voice, then seeing my calm reaction, he leaned closer again. “What do you think, Callie?” he asked excitedly. “Am I nuts?”

  I hesitated for a long time, taking calm breaths, using my power to check him again. I sensed nothing familiar about him. Not a wizard, not a shifter, not a vampire. Just a particularly observant Regular. I finally nodded. “I… believe it’s real, too. But I’m not sure the world is ready to hear it yet.”

  His smile was positively stunning. I hid my own smile by taking a drink. “I knew I couldn’t be the only one. I just wish I knew one of them so that I could help them. Talk to them about it.”

  I nodded absently. “Keep your eyes out, but be careful. I’m sure many of them wouldn’t want to be discovered. Might even be alarmed that you believe…” I trailed off, trying to impart a warning.

  He nodded agreement. “True. But there has to be a way I can convince them I don’t mean any harm.” He adjusted his glasses again, preparing to stand before realizing that would be rude. “I’m sorry. I forgot. It’s just… my mind is running a million miles an hour, now.” He smiled sheepishly.

  “I need to get going anyway. We should… do this again sometime.”

  He nodded as he stood, then held out a hand. I took it, still searching for a tingle of something, wondering if I knew enough to check for every flavor of supernatural, but I knew I could only tell what I had experienced. Still, perhaps I could sense something different, even if I didn’t know what it was. Other than the familiar tingle of excitement from grabbing the hand of someone new, exciting, and fresh — that of a new man — I felt nothing alarming.

  I mentally kicked myself for being so paranoid. I didn’t want to live my life like Roland.

  Johnathan walked me to my truck, and left as if floating a foot above the ground, his excitement over a comrade in arms overshadowing our date. I smiled to myself as I started my truck.

  Whenever boys came into the picture, there was really only one thing a girl could do.

  Talk to daddy.

  Chapter 24

  As I left the restaurant, I turned on the air in the truck. The humidity outside caused fog to invade the windshield after barely a minute. I had a good twenty-minute drive ahead of me to reach my dad’s house, but with the spear business for Roland, a Demon, and Father David injured, I felt it important to see him. He kept me grounded during stressful times. My anchor.

  So, I used the drive to try and clear my head, because my dad was good at reading me, and could pester like no one’s business.

  But I also wanted to master my nightmare, or daymare, I guess. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of Nate, freezing up at the worst possible moment. I decided to go back to the beginning in my mind again, rationalize the sequence of events, ruthlessly showing myself that I had nothing to be afraid of. It was just a stupid fear.

  It couldn’t hurt me. With a deep breath, I let the fear in.

  A church. Rain pouring down. Streetlight glowing over me like my own moon. Crying. A door slowly opening before me—

  I braved the storm, and then did it again.

  And again. And again. Numbing myself to its effects.

  After ten minutes, I was breathing deeply, but… I found that the last time I had braved it without an ounce of fear, remembering Claire’s strength, and using it as a beacon. An example.

  I thought of Roland, standing beside me, training me, holding me up. And my smile stretched wider. I was doing it, I smiled to myself, noticing I was at my dad’s exit on the highway.

  I can do this!

  Still smiling, I exited the highway, turning down the air a little bit as I thought about all the good things in my life. A kick-ass, nerdy best friend. A great childhood. Loving daddy waiting to see me in a few minutes. My now-deceased mother watching over me jealously as I drove to see her true love, her husband. I could imagine her feigned glare even now.

  My mother had worked at a hospital, and had been a saint in her own right. She had taught me the importance of beauty.

  Inner beauty.

  But inner beauty came from confidence and pride — which she determined was through how one presented themselves for the world to see. Dress nicely, not like a slob, she had reprimanded me often. She had taught me fashion from a young age. Not to chase trends, but to hunt down the garments and accessories that spoke to me. She believed they drifted in the world like broken whispers of my soul, and that it was my duty as a woman to reclaim them.

  I smiled, thanking her silently, as my thoughts drifted to the man she had loved most.

  My
father worked at a community college in town, a professor of Mythology. He spent his days dealing with students simply trying to fill out one of their general education requirements, but he enjoyed it, and constantly declared that he was the luckiest man alive. To do something he loved for no other reason than that he loved it. He had always taught me that there was truth to myths, or if not truth, at least valid lessons to learn. He treated religion, philosophy, and myth as different sides of the same pyramid, not religious himself.

  And thanks to Roland, he knew my secrets, and loved me anyway. As had my mom.

  I shook my head, feeling marginally better. Embracing my fears had helped me, acknowledging my demons in a moment of peace, so that, hopefully, when they struck again I would be better armored. We would see.

  Chapter 25

  I pulled up to the small house and parked in the driveway. Nothing fancy, just a two-story, cookie-cutter, urban sprawl home, complete with a small yard and freshly cleaned siding. A pickup truck similar to mine, older, yet kept in immaculate shape, sat parked in the drive.

  My father sat on the porch, eyes dancing with joy as I climbed out of the truck. I smiled back, quickly jogging up to the covered porch. It was going to storm soon, judging by the clouds. It had been raining for weeks, pretty much non-stop.

  “Callie,” my dad smiled, patting the chair beside him. Terry Penrose was a solid man, filling the space on the porch like a king looking over his fiefdom. He wasn’t a harsh lord, but he exuded pride and protection over his minions — his garden. Even if it was a small pride, he owned it. And he treated that garden as well as he had treated me in my childhood. He was a man with a lot of love. This was his house, by thunder, and nothing could say otherwise. Two rocking chairs and a small table were all that decorated the wide, covered porch. We usually sat to watch storms together, drinking coffee and munching on cookies, snuggled under blankets to protect ourselves from the mist of ricocheting raindrops or strong winds. One of our favorite pastimes.

  Especially after my mother, Sarah, had died of cancer years ago.

  Well, even before that. But there had been three chairs, then.

  “You look troubled, honey…” he said, studying me.

  I nodded, deciding not to try and hide it. “I had another of those daydreams. While I was training.” He let out a fatherly sigh and held out his arms. I smiled, feeling seven years old again as I raced up the steps and wrapped him in a big hug. The protective cloud of musk aftershave wrapped me up protectively.

  That smell was a sense of comfort to me. Familiarity. He had worn it forever. Because my mother had loved it. He had tried changing it a few years ago, and I had reacted like he was having a mid-life crisis, refusing to let him. He had been shocked at first, until he saw my very real tears. Then he had wrapped me up in a hug just like this one. I had tried to convince him to buy a sports car rather than change that cologne, that cologne that was buried in my soul, a smell of comfort, protection, love, and family.

  He didn’t buy the car, but he didn’t change his cologne, either.

  “It wasn’t that bad. It just caught me off guard,” I mumbled into his chest, inhaling the cologne and trying to absorb strength from his physical solidity.

  “Tell me about it,” he said, unfolding his arms and motioning towards my chair.

  I had a coffee cup shoved in my hands before I knew it, and found myself talking, letting it all out, allowing him to help shoulder the weight that had been pressing me down. I told him about the last few days, leaving out the dangerous details that I didn’t want him to concern himself with. He listened patiently, nodding as he gave me his undivided attention.

  “I just… I keep freezing up. I know all these things,” I waved my hands with a hiss of exasperation. I saw no neighbors, and was turned enough so that anything I did could be concealed. I suddenly had an energy stick in my hand, but dimmed down to a less powerful level so that it barely glowed. Then I shifted it to a kama, the single-handed scythe. Then I let it stretch out into a small spear. As I did this, my black fan bloomed into existence above my other palm, rippling slightly in a breeze that was nonexistent. My dad shook his head wistfully, smiling.

  “Incredible, honey. Truly. If you had any idea how envious I am…”

  I sighed, letting it all go. “I know, daddy. It’s just… I can be in complete control of myself, but the moment I know there is no safety net, that stupid dream sideswipes me. Raw emotion. Raw fear, even though I know it’s stupid, it hits me fresh every time. I’m…” I looked down at my feet. “I’m just not cut out for this.”

  Silence stretched until I finally looked up. My father wasn’t even looking at me, but was instead staring out at the first drops of rain from the saturated clouds overhead, blinking slowly and breathing deeply, enjoying the moment.

  “Dad?”

  He blinked, and looked over at me. “Yes, dear?”

  I frowned back, feeling a bit of frustration creep up on me. “I was talking to you.”

  “I know. I was listening. You didn’t ask me a question.” I knew he could sense my growing anger, but he continued in his mellow tone. “I had a friend once. Had been in the school system for a long time, and had built up a great pension. Brilliant professor. Could retire at any time. But you know what he talked about most?”

  I took a sip of my coffee, trying not to take my frustration out on him. “No, what?”

  “How he didn’t know how he was going to be able to budget playing golf three days a week instead of four once he retired. And how he would only be able to eat out for dinner twice a week at his favorite restaurant.” He drank some of his coffee, still watching the rain. Tranquility just seemed to roll off of him in waves.

  “Sounds like he should get his priorities straight,” I muttered.

  “Perhaps. I had another friend,” he continued, without missing a beat. “He was very smart, top in his class in school. Great athlete, too. Used to spend a lot of time talking about how unfair it was that a classmate had the same skills as him, but got all the attention of a college they both wanted to attend, when he couldn’t even get the time of day from their admissions department.”

  I rolled my eyes, understanding. “Right. I get it, dad. You’re politely telling me to stop complaining.”

  He held up a finger. “No. That last one was me, by the way.” He winked at me. “What I’m saying is that you don’t have to be like anyone else, whether they are similar or different. You are your own person. The greatest enemy is often your perception of how you should be. But the greatest form of enlightenment is your rock-solid understanding of what you are, not what others have made of the cards they were dealt in life.” He took another sip, finally meeting my eyes. “Knowing your I is the most valuable lesson you could possibly learn. And there is no I in Roland, or he, she, they, or even them.”

  I let out a breath, nodding slowly. “It doesn’t matter what I can do, what I can’t do, what others do, what they don’t do… Just find my I.” He nodded.

  “It’s a tough journey, but each step — difficult or simple — gets you closer. You just have to start fucking walking, not looking around at others.”

  And that, ladies and gentlemen, was Terry Penrose. My dad.

  Slipping curse words into lessons like an invisible ninja. He was infamous for it in his class lectures. And believe it or not, his students excelled in his classes over other professors of the same curriculum, even though my dad graded harsher than any of them. He just had a way with his words. I never could predict where he was going, what he would say. Even though in hindsight it always felt obvious.

  But he had a point. I knew this, of course. Similar — but different — conversations with my dad had helped me understand that I didn’t want to work for the Shepherds long term — that I didn’t want to become one. But I hadn’t continued my fucking walk, subconsciously thinking that I still needed to do something similar to Roland with the skills I had been taught.

  But maybe I didn’t.
<
br />   It was something to think about. “Thanks, Professor Daddy.”

  He grunted, leaning back into his chair, continuing to watch the rain, which now fell heavier.

  Chapter 26

  “I went on a lunch date today.”

  He frowned at the rain. “Must be a second date if it was for lunch.”

  I smiled, shaking my head. “That’s just the thing. We met last night at a bar. He didn’t hit on me, but instead asked if I would join him for lunch today. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  He grunted. “Be wary of clever men, Callie. You never know the games they play.”

  I smiled, rolling my eyes. “I know, dad. He was… nice. A Regular. But…” I looked up at him with a sober expression, “he believes magic is real. That Freaks are real…”

  “That’s not common. For a Regular.” The word seemed to taste foul in his mouth, since he was one of them. But he liked the term for me even less. Freak. Still, he was very aware of the magical world, and the years I had spent training with Roland had essentially encouraged him to extend a branch of friendship — if not family — to the steadfast Shepherd. Even though my dad didn’t understand why I was encouraged to train like a ninja monk in addition to my magical training as a wizard. My dad also wasn’t the religious type. Especially not after my mother died of cancer. He and God were not on speaking terms after that — not that they were before, but definitely not after. “You’re sure he’s not… like you?”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t pick up on anything.”

  “Well, keep your eyes open.”

  I nodded, enjoying the steady rain, remembering many nights sitting right here, sipping cocoa or coffee as we watched the storms together. I needed to tell my dad some of what was going on. Not all, but some. “Roland is hurt,” I began softly. My father looked instantly concerned, eyes flicking to the front yard as if expecting an immediate invasion from the man’s enemies. I waved a hand. “He should be fine in a few weeks. But… he needs my help.”