“Right now?” Quinn asked.
“Yup. Now that I have my strength back, I intend to take full advantage of it. Tara may be able to shed some light on what’s going on—maybe she has some new information. Besides, I should update her on our new status.” I held my hand out to Quinn and watched my aura’s glow intensify slightly.
“But first,” I turned to look at Dylan, “I need a quick lesson on how to teleport myself to and from this portal.”
“No problemo, Chief.” Dylan gave me a mock salute and smiled.
*
I hadn’t been to the Archives for weeks—although it’d only been less than a day by Shepherds’ Aura standards. I doubted I’d ever get used to the time conversion between realms.
I materialized and walked into the main library, an enormous oval room lined with books. The ever-changing frescoed ceiling had the pinkish-orange hues of what looked to be a beautiful sunrise. As was often the case, I was alone. I scanned the empty room again and looked up at the ceiling once more to soak in the magic of the animated mural. How could there be hundreds of us in existence and yet rarely anyone ever around? Either everyone was on assignment all the time or I was the reigning Shepherd cootie-queen.
I scanned the long wooden reading tables. There were no books or files stacked high upon any of them, no papers scattered about. In fact, there wasn’t even a shred of evidence of Peter’s makeshift worksite that typically greeted my arrival. I listened for his presence but heard nothing.
I teleported myself outside the carved, wooden doors marking the entrance to Tara’s private chambers and knocked.
“Come in, Eve. I’ve been expecting you.”
I opened the doors to see her standing at the side of her desk, laying out pieces of gold thread, each of varying lengths.
“Each of these strings represents a human life we failed to protect in the span of the last Mora week alone,” she explained without so much as looking at me. “Five lives in seven days.” Tara shook her head in disappointment, gently touching the shortest thread. “It’s a tragedy. And I fear it will only get worse. I fear either the Servants are getting wiser or we are getting weaker.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “But this is not your concern.” Sitting in one of the two chairs that flanked the back of her desk, she looked up at me and forced a smile. “So, tell me, how is Quinn?”
“Fine,” I replied, sitting in the chair next to where she stood. “The full moon passed and Quinn is safe. The Servants were remarkably quiet last week.” I glanced at the strings on the table. “At least with respect to us.”
“You sound as though that concerns you.”
“It does. Considering the urgency of the warnings I’ve received from everyone, it seems strange how uneventful this past week has been for us.”
“I am not sure I would agree with your characterization.”
“What do you mean?”
“One just has to look at you to realize that something has changed.”
“Oh, yeah.” I grinned, looking at my hands, which were still glowing more brightly than usual. “Quinn and I—we connected just as you’d hoped. Dylan said we’re like ‘soul magnets’ now.”
“I am so pleased and relieved to hear this news.” Tara flashed me the brightest smile I’d ever seen grace her face. “The use of the term ‘soul magnets’ is remarkably accurate to describe what you were a few short days ago. Your souls have always been like two magnets drawn only to each other—an undeniable attraction that goes far beyond love at first sight. But now you two have experienced something on an entirely different level. Your souls have fused, which can only happen when both true soul mates have unconditional love, trust, and faith in one another.
“It is said that once the souls have fused, they achieve a certain harmony,” she continued, “a rhythm all their own. It is that rhythm, that harmony, which allows the souls to become more powerful, giving and taking freely from the other as needed, enhancing and building upon the skills their hosts already possess, such as physical strength.”
“What do you know about maintaining this harmony after two souls have fused?” I asked.
“I am not sure I follow.” She looked at me with confusion in her eyes.
“Our newfound strength and energy seem to be dependent on our proximity to one another.”
“Interesting.” Tara took a deep breath and stood up, walking over to the window. “I must admit I was so consumed with whether Quinn and you would develop your connection that I hadn’t given much thought to what would happen once the bond had been forged.”
“Well, when Quinn and I are near each other, we seem to feel stronger and glow brighter than when we’re apart. And when we kiss or—” I stopped short, almost forgetting I was speaking with the head of the Council Tribunal. “We seem to be at our strongest when we act on our affection for each other.”
“Not much is written about true soul mates, and your immortality makes your connection with Quinn slightly more difficult to understand. But I suppose even true soul mates, human or not, who have developed an extraordinary connection can feel the ill effects of deprivation and solitude from each other after a while. It’s feasible for your souls to lose the synchronicity between them and fall out of rhythm once the connection between you two is interrupted for any considerable length of time, thereby causing the bond between you to weaken, as well as any other benefits resulting from that bond, until your two souls can be reunited again.”
“How long can true soul mates be separated before the bond gets too weak?”
“Lore has it true soul mates can be separated for hundreds, if not thousands, of years before finding each other once again.”
“Unless, of course, one of the souls is destroyed,” I added sullenly.
“As far as I know, it is the only way to truly break the bond between two souls once they have fused.”
“You know, Minerva came up with another theory as to why the Servants want to break the bond between Quinn and me,” I said hesitantly.
“Oh, really? And what is that?”
“She thinks the Servants may have figured out a way to corrupt me.”
“And just how does she propose they do this?” Tara asked.
“She believes that destroying Quinn’s soul would break my spirit and cause me to want to give up my soul—Shepherd suicide.”
“Or as we call it—a fall from grace.”
“‘A fall from grace’?” I asked.
“No Good Samaritan in our realm would be able to do his or her job without a soul. Souls give us our sense of compassion. They serve as our conscience to help guide us when we’re required to make difficult choices for the sake of protecting humanity and the greater good. Were we to lose our souls, we would lose our philanthropic calling—we would lose our grace—and no longer be able to carry out our mission.
“But,” Tara continued, “having a soul also reminds us we were once human. And at one time or another, we all struggle with the desire to do more than just remember—we yearn to interact with humankind again. Whether it’s pleasure, curiosity, love, loss, or another emotion that drives our longing—we’ve all felt the urge to taste ‘life’ again. It is when one of us gives in to this longing, this deep-rooted craving, however, that we become susceptible to making some very human mistakes.” She paused, eyeing me as if to point out that I was the textbook example in this department.
“And while some errors in judgment are justified, others are not, including mistakes stemming from one’s own arrogance, greed, hatred, or envy. If we, as Shepherds, choose to let our own desires, anger, or pain come before those we are here to serve, then we also choose to willingly risk the one thing distinguishing us from so many other immortals—the sanctity of our souls—and often find ourselves losing our way, headed down a path of self-destruction.
“It becomes a very slippery slope,” she continued. “The more selfish you act, the more passive your soul becomes and the more restless your spirit grows. Event
ually, the tension between the soul-spirit union becomes so great that the bond between them starts to weaken and you are no longer of pure mind. If you cannot manage to strengthen that bond, you risk forgetting the fundamental essence of who you once were as a human—the part of you that made you eligible to become one of us in the first place—and you lose whatever hold you have left on your soul.”
“Am I in danger of losing my way?” I asked warily.
“If Minerva’s theory about you is correct, then I suppose the Servants believe you might be.”
“And what do you think?” I asked.
She sighed. “I believe your past mistakes have largely been a result of forces stronger than your own will—forces created the instant you first connected with your true soul mate. I also believe you have an extraordinary bond with a young man you love very deeply. And I have no doubt it this relationship that will protect you and keep you on the right path.”
“But if I lose him … what then?” I muttered.
“I do not know,” she replied.
I suddenly thought of Peter and Madeleine. They weren’t even soul mates and he was devastated when he lost her. I thought of the lies he’d recently told. I thought of how jealous he was over my relationship with Quinn. I pictured the moment in the field in Bloomington when he’d pinned me down, his eyes dark and lustful, scaring me. And I thought about how he’d sacrificed a piece of his soul to save me. I shuddered. Could the pain of losing Madeleine have caused Peter to head down a self-destructive path and jeopardize his soul or had he taken a calculated risk when he rescued me? And if Peter’s sacrifice to save me did signal his falling from grace, just how far had he fallen? Could he still turn back?
“Have you ever known a Shepherd to fall from grace?” I asked warily.
“Yes, I have. A long time ago.” Tara sighed as she turned and walked back to her desk, signaling that this topic was not open for discussion.
*
Before heading back to the portal, I teleported myself to Tartuf’s office. My note was still exactly where I’d left it, which likely meant he hadn’t been back since I’d taken the Journal. Before leaving, I grabbed the pen on his desk and wrote him another note on the same scrap of paper:
July 19
Tartuf—Plan A worked! Not sure what to do now. And there’s something I have to tell you. Please contact me when you can—Evie
I looked around his office once more, scanning the vast collections of books lining the shelves. I knew none were as precious to Tartuf as the Journal because it was the only thing locked safely away. And I’d taken it against his wishes—and then I’d lost it.
Crap. Tartuf is going to be so pissed off at me. I had to find out who stole it. But how? I wasn’t comfortable asking Tara. After all, she might not even know about the Journal, and it seemed like Tartuf already had enough on his plate without Tara questioning him about something else. As much as I didn’t want to, I knew it was time to talk to Peter.
I teleported myself to the Archives library, but there was still no trace of him. I spotted the Global Locator off to my left, but since I’d never completed my training, I had no idea how to use it. I just saw hundreds of little lights, each slightly varying in color or intensity, flitting about on a large-scale model of Earth slowly rotating on its axis.
“Eve!” I heard Agnes’s voice joyfully call out. “It feels like ages since I’ve last seen you! How are you, my child?”
“Agnes!” I turned around and smiled as she walked over to me with open arms. “It’s great to see you!” I exclaimed as I hugged her.
“Teddy and I were just talking about you.”
“Oh, really—that can’t be good,” I teased.
“Oh pish-posh. How’s that Prince Charming of yours?”
“He’s good. He’s really good.”
“And you?” She took a step back to take a good look at me. Having been apart from Quinn for nearly a day in Mora time, the glow surrounding my aura had faded considerably, but I was certain Agnes would pick up on it. “Something tells me that you’re doing just fine,” she said in a maternal voice, smiling.
“I am, thanks.” I scanned the room again. “Hey, have you seen Peter? I wanted to talk to him.”
“No, I am afraid I haven’t, but truth be told, I’ve been spending more and more time at the beach lately.”
“I hope you’ve been enjoying those breathtaking sunsets with someone,” I probed good-naturedly. Agnes looked away, trying to mask her grin.
“You have!” I exclaimed telepathically. “Who? Agnes you have to tell me!” I was so excited for her I was practically jumping up and down.
“Oh, I really shouldn’t. A lady never kisses and tells,” she replied coyly.
My mind raced through who it could be, and considering I didn’t know that many Shepherds to begin with, only one name stood out.
“It’s Teddy, isn’t it?” I squealed. Her eyes popped open in surprise.
“Oh, please don’t tell anyone.” She giggled. “We’re trying to keep it quiet for now.”
“Holy smokes! You and Teddy. That’s awesome!”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Agnes looked and sounded like a little girl who’d just been kissed by her first crush.
“Well, I’m really happy for you, Agnes. Everyone should have the chance to find love—even up here.” I hugged her again.
“So,” she continued aloud in a more reserved tone of voice, composing herself by patting her hair. “You were wanting to speak with Peter?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Do you have any idea where he might be?” I had a feeling if Peter were in his portal, the answer to my question would be “no,” but I didn’t want to let on that I knew about portals in the first place. Plus, I wasn’t positive Agnes was one of the trusted few who knew about the Peter’s safe haven.
“Maybe you should try the English garden. You know he has a penchant for that spot.”
“And if he’s not there?”
“If Peter doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be,” Agnes said guardedly. Yup, she knew about the portal—I was sure of it.
“All right, then I guess I’m off to the garden. In case I don’t find him there, would you let him know I was looking for him the next time you cross paths?”
“Certainly.”
“And be sure to tell that big lug of yours that I say ‘hi,’” I added telepathically.
“I will.” The smile that appeared on her face said it all—Agnes was happy, and I was happy for her.
*
I found Peter sitting on a bench in the garden near the lilac bushes. He was engrossed in a book.
“Hi, Peter,” I said softly, not wanting to startle him.
He looked up at me and smiled—the warm, friendly smile I was used to seeing. “Well, hello. What brings you here, Eve?”
“I wanted to talk to you, actually.”
“Is that so. Well, come sit down. Tell me what’s on your mind—please.” Peter closed the book he was reading and set it on the bench next to him, patting the other side of the bench for me.
“Okay.” I walked over and sat down. “So, should I assume you’ve been keeping tabs on me, or do I need to start from where you and I left off the last time we talked?”
“If by that you mean am I aware Mr. Harrison survived the first full moon he could have been converted, then, yes, I suppose I have been ‘keeping tabs’ on you. Another job well done by the way.” He nodded approvingly.
“I can’t take the credit for this one. It was definitely a group effort.”
“I would not be so dismissive of your contributions if I were you.”
“My ‘contributions,’ huh?” I could tell he knew something. I just didn’t know if he was planning on revealing what he knew. “So you have been keeping a close eye on me lately.”
“Well, I’m not sure how that would have been possible since you’ve been off the grid for the past week.”
“I guess we did fall ‘off the grid�
� for a bit,” I agreed.
“Care to tell me about the portal you and Mr. Harrison claimed as your hideout?” Peter asked telepathically. From the way he was looking at me, I knew he was through playing games. He wanted answers, and I had a feeling it was the only way I’d get a few in return.
“It was a good hiding place,” I replied.
“They usually are. When did Dylan find it?” he asked without even blinking an eye. I, on the other hand, had to fight to keep my jaw from dropping on the ground.
“How did you—”
“Please, Eve, do not insult my intelligence. I had a good idea what was going on when Mr. Harrison kept disappearing prior to your reassignment. You were up here, so I knew you weren’t portal hopping with him. I knew Dylan was infatuated with Mr. Harrison’s Watcher. And, according to his old mentor, Abe, Dylan made a habit of routinely disappearing for days on end, so it didn’t take long for me to put two and two together.”
I just sat there, not knowing whether I should confirm what Peter suspected was true or try to play dumb. I didn’t want Dylan to get into trouble for helping me.
“Don’t worry. Dylan’s secret is safe.”
Knowing I had to tread lightly, I carefully gathered my thoughts, shielding them in the process.
“What does that mean?”
“It means it does not do any of us any good for me to educate the others about portals in general, much less Dylan’s knack for finding them.”
I nodded.
“So, now that I know Dylan’s role in all of this, is it safe to assume his girlfriend, the Watcher, lent a helping hand in Quinn’s survival as well?” I could practically feel Peter trying to break through my mental barrier to find the answers he was seeking.
“And then there is you,” he went on to say. “Much to my dismay, you met with my dear old friend, Tartuf, which could only mean he put you in touch with the two hooligans he occasionally hires.” He paused for a moment and looked at me, but I didn’t say a word.
“So, how are Jaegar and Chase these days?” he continued in the wake of my silence.
Clearing my throat, I replied aloud, “G—good.”
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