“How old are you?” he asked bluntly.
“Fifteen,” Monique replied automatically.
Jonas shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. He had made a terrible mistake in coming here. If Monique was a Guardian, and the presence of the tattoo was a pretty good indication that she was, then there was no way that he could ever be her friend, let alone anything more. And if the other Guardians found out he was here, there was no telling what they might do to him.
“I have to go,” he mumbled, turning back in the direction of the road.
“Wait, why?” she grabbed his arm.
“I made a mistake coming here.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he opened his arms helplessly. “Monique, do you have any idea what I am?”
“No,” she admitted, casting an anxious glance over her shoulder.
“I’m a gypsy!” To his astonishment, she laughed.
“Oh-kay... so you’re a gypsy. What, like with a caravan and everything?” The amusement in her blue eyes was unmistakeable, but she wasn’t making fun of him and she obviously had no idea that the Guardians hated his people.
“You don’t know about the gypsies?”
“What about them? I mean, I know they travel around a lot...”
“We travel for a reason Monique.” She liked the way he said her name; it sounded foreign and beautiful on his lips. “We’ve been searching for Summerfeld for a thousand years.” Her mouth dropped open in an expression of genuine astonishment.
“Why?” she was wary now, slowly backpedalling, retracing her steps. All the light and humour had vanished.
“I won’t hurt you,” Jonas pleaded. “I didn’t know... I honestly didn’t know you were a Guardian. I just wanted to see you. I’m not like the others,” he finished pathetically. Monique stopped, her instinct telling her to run, but the compassionate, kind-hearted, human part of her that had ruled her head for fifteen years, implored her to stay. Jonas looked like a lost little boy and cruelty was not in Monique’s nature.
“I think you should tell me how you got here,” she instructed gently.
He explained it then; how he had entered the City; that his father had found it and that he honestly did not know what their next move would be.
“I thought it was a myth. All this time I thought my dad was chasing a dream... until today.” Monique took his hand in her own and Jonas smiled, the delicate pale fingers tugging at his heartstrings. His hand was almost twice the size of hers.
“What will they do, now that they’ve found Summerfeld?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but I’m glad that they did. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he admitted, keeping his eyes fixed on their entwined fingers. “And now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to say goodbye. I want to see you again.” She smiled shyly, her lips curling up and pink spots rising on her cheeks.
“Are you allowed to leave?” Jonas asked.
“I am, actually. Quinn... one of the others... she got permission.”
“Then meet me,” Jonas was clutching at straws, but even a little hope was better than none at all.
“Monique?” Camille’s voice called and Monique leapt up as though she had been burned.
“In town; there’s an internet cafe,” Jonas whispered urgently. “I’ll be there everyday after school. Come as soon as you can.”
Monique nodded, hearing a branch crunch underfoot, far too close. Turning towards the sound she saw her mother approaching, holding Jack and Ava by the hands.
“Oh, there you are,” Camille smiled, “didn’t you hear me calling you?”
“No, sorry, mom.” Monique feigned ignorance. Glancing back at the place where Jonas had stood a moment ago, she found only an empty clearing.
“Well, let’s get back, these two need to eat something.” Camille turned back towards the Cathedral and Monique followed in her wake. She scanned the trees as they walked, but she saw no sign of the boy who had gone to so much trouble to find her.
Chapter 9
“Are you okay?” Drake asked again, having received no response to his first enquiry. Quinn’s shoulder was weeping blood, even as the soft wool of her sweater absorbed most of it. Quinn gazed up at him incredulously, at a loss for words. In the light of day he looked younger, less menacing and far more human. He was still holding her hand, the stake pressing into it, and his eyes were so close to hers that she noticed flecks of blue in the brilliant green. Suddenly her legs felt weak and he supported her, intending to help her sit, when her legs simply buckled beneath her.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, holding her around the waist, “you’re okay.”
Her recent brush with death had drained Quinn of all her energy but, even more than that, she couldn’t bring herself to speak because seeing him, standing out in the sun as bold as anything, was impossible.
“Quinn?” he shook her gently, trying to snap her out of her stupor. He could smell her blood and he breathed slowly through his mouth, trying to block out the sweet scent.
“You’re in the sun,” she mumbled eventually, her eyes widening in fear as realisation dawned. “Oh my God, you’re in the sun. I was wrong before... I thought you might be Aleksei, but you’re not... You’re Julian,” she gasped.
“I think you’ve lost a little too much blood,” he replied, not unkindly, as he lowered her to the ground. Her shoulder was still bleeding but it would heal soon enough. Breathing in deeply through her nose, she exhaled through her mouth, gazing up through the canopy of trees. The sunlight filtering through the leaves danced across her face. She had no idea how long she lay there, but slowly the hysteria drained away.
Eventually, Drake spoke. “How are you feeling?’
She turned to find him sitting a few feet away.
“Like I just got mauled by a vampire.”
“Very funny.”
Pulling herself into a sitting position she clapped a hand to her shoulder to stem the slow oozing.
“I’m not Julian,” Drake announced, his words echoing through the trees around them. Quinn stared at him, trying to figure out whether he was lying.
“You have to be, there’s no other explanation.”
“Julian is dead, Quinn. Eldon killed him, remember? So, unless you believe in ghosts, I’m not him.”
“Julian was the only daywalker ever created,” she pointed out.
“Really? You believe that bullshit?” he scoffed, once again ridiculing the Sacred Book and all of its teachings. With a pang she recalled the day she had told him that Julian was an abomination, and her cheeks flushed with mortification as he continued. “Do you really think that Enah was the only Faery to ever love a vampire?” Quinn’s eyes widened in surprise as he continued, “You really don’t give my kind enough credit.”
“You... you’re telling me you were in love with a Fae woman?”
“I didn’t say that,” he sneered. “I said that a Fae woman loved me.”
“Where is she now?” Quinn asked. To her knowledge, all of the Fae were secured within Summerfeld.
“She’s dead.” She suspected he was telling the truth, or parts of it, at least.
“How many of you are there? That can walk in the sun?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never met another daywalker, but it’s not something that we would bandy about. Not even Genevieve knows.”
“Genevieve,” Quinn hissed, and the thought of the vampire filled her with rage, enough to send the blood rushing back to her head. “Genevieve set that mob on me. I’m going to kill her!” Drake got to his feet too and Quinn tried to push past him, but in one swift motion he scooped her off the ground again, halting her progress.
“Put me down.”
“No.”
“Put me down, Drake. Now!”
“You’re not going to kill Genevieve,” he drawled.
“Why not? Because you don’t want to lose your girlfriend? Well, here’s a newsflash for you, I don’t really care about your love life. S
he-tried-to-kill-me! Does that mean nothing to you?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he asked.
“Yes,” Quinn nodded. “You’re here. Thank you,” she added suddenly, her anger giving way to gratitude. “You saved my life.”
“Again,” he pointed out wryly. She seemed calm enough so he set her back on her feet. “You can’t kill Genevieve – not only because she means something to me, but because I think she may have information that we need. About your sister,” he added.
“Do you think she had something to do with my sister’s murder?” Quinn demanded, the thought occurring to her.
“No,” he admitted, “I’ve already told you that I don’t think your sister was killed by vampires, but Genevieve is very involved in the Quest, and if anyone knows anything, she should.”
“Why haven’t you asked her, then?”
“She’s been away. And she’s tricky. I know how to handle her but it’s going to take some time.”
“So, you’re just going to jump back into her bed even though she tried to kill me?”
A smug smile stretched across his face.
“Are you jealous, Quinn?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” she snapped. “I’m with Tristan now.”
Drake’s eyes bored into her as though trying to decipher the truth.
“Do you love him?”
“I... I don’t want to discuss this with you. And I should get back – he’ll be beside himself with worry. We’re leaving today,” she added.
“Back to the City?”
“Yes.” Quinn hesitated. Drake had saved her life again, and he had proven to her over and over that he could be trusted. “There’s a town called New Haven... it's a two day trip north of here. If you need me, you’ll find me there.” New Haven was dangerously close to Cliffdale but Quinn needed to be able to see him – to discuss things. It wasn’t safe over the phone.
“That’s a big secret to divulge to a vampire,” Drake drawled. “Be careful, Quinn, I might start to believe you have a little faith in me.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m sitting on a bigger secret.” She glanced up at the sun again.
“You cannot tell a soul,” Drake warned menacingly. “You and I have come to an understanding, Quinn, but know that I will kill you if I have to, to protect this secret.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she vowed. “But you keep Genevieve away from me, and away from New Haven. If I see her anywhere near that town I’ll stake her. You have my word.”
Chapter 10
“Quinn! Thank God!” Tristan practically jerked her into the house, relief emanating from him. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”
“Sorry,” she prayed he couldn’t see the dried blood on her dark sweater. The wound had healed, and she had cleaned herself up as best she could. She held up the brown bag she was carrying. “I went to get us breakfast and got side-tracked.”
“Side-tracked?”
“I went to say goodbye to Sarah. Why don’t you start with this,” she dumped the bag into his arms, “while I take a shower.”
The hot water scalded Quinn’s skin, a welcome pain that washed away the blood and the taint of the vampires who had attacked her. As her skin turned pink from the heat, she closed her eyes, the sight of Drake standing in the sun burned into her mind. In the fleeting instant when the others had begun to burn, she had felt a fear unlike she had ever known. She had thought he would burn, right alongside them, and it had crucified her. It was still impossible to comprehend that Drake was a daywalker. Even after having seen it with her own eyes Quinn was having trouble accepting the fact. Mindlessly, she soaped up her hair, trying to isolate how she felt about Drake.
“You need any help with that?” a low voice asked, and she jumped, startled.
“Tristan!” she gasped, ashamed that she had all but forgotten him. She had taken the next step with Tristan and here she was, less than forty-eight hours later, thinking about another man. He’s not a man, she scolded herself, he’s a vampire. Still, she shook her head at Tristan, turning away so that he couldn’t see the guilt in her eyes.
Straight after breakfast they left Brookfield in separate cars. Quinn was grateful for the reprieve. She didn’t want to hurt Tristan but she needed some time to process everything that had happened. If he sensed she was distant from him that morning, he didn’t show it, laughing and joking as he always had. Quinn felt bad for not saying goodbye to Sarah, but she could hardly do so when she had told Tristan she had said her farewell earlier. She figured her friend would assume that she was off on another business trip and she would be back when she was back.
They made good time, but still had to spend one night in a motel. Like a bad cliché, when Tristan emerged from the bathroom, Quinn feigned sleep. Ever the gentleman, Tristan did not wake her. Instead, he climbed into bed beside her and wrapped his arms around her in a protective gesture which made her feel even worse.
Arriving at Summerfeld very late in the evening, Quinn did not have the opportunity to speak to Isaiah straight away. Instead, she was informed bright and early the following morning, by a positively euphoric Monique, that one of the Chumana eggs was hatching. Quinn, who was older and wiser than the optimistic girl, knew immediately that something was wrong. Racing over to Kellan’s she found him in the shed in a dour mood. Quinn could see which egg was the cause for concern – a long, thin crack ran along one length of it, from top to base.
“It’s too soon?” she asked quietly, and Kellan nodded.
“They need a few more weeks at least.”
“Could it survive?” Quinn watched as the egg gave a tiny jerk and rolled to one side where it lay absolutely still. Mindful of Monique, who had just entered the shed behind them, Kellan gave an imperceptible shake of his head.
“Did I miss it? Has it hatched yet?” Monique asked, grinning from ear to ear. Camille rushed in alongside her looking frazzled.
“Tristan just arrived to see the kids,” she huffed, “I thought I’d come and see if I could help.” Quinn was touched by her offer but she sensed there was more to it than that.
“Monique,” Quinn got to her feet, pulling the young girl aside. “It’s not good news.”
“What do you mean?”
“The eggs aren’t ready. They shouldn’t be hatching yet. That baby won’t survive.”
“Of course it will!” Monique insisted, with all the assurance of someone so young. Someone who had not experienced loss before.
“It won’t,” Quinn murmured as Camille came to stand beside Monique. “It’s too young.”
“No,” Monique shook her head in denial. “It’s going to be fine – you wait and see.” And with that, she stepped past Kellan and, despite everyone leaping forward to stop her, she scooped the cracked Chumana egg up in her arms and took a seat, depositing it gently on her lap.
Camille could hardly fail to have noticed the gasps of horror around her and she looked hastily between Kellan and Quinn. Neither could take their eyes off the burnt orange egg.
“Is that bad?” Camille asked.
“Uh...” Quinn looked to Kellan for affirmation.
“The hatchling won’t survive,” he soothed, eliciting a snort of derision from Monique. “It doesn’t matter.”
“And if it does?” Quinn pointed out wryly.
“What?” Camille interjected. “What if it does survive?”
Quinn pursed her lips to keep from smiling as Kellan stepped forward to explain it to Camille.
“Dragons are much like birds. They use the same parental recognition method - called filial imprinting.” Camille looked blank. “Basically, with birds, the hatchling will bond with the first large, moving object it sees. It has to be both, because their fellow nestlings are too small, but a tree doesn’t move. You follow?”
“Yes,” Camille nodded, but she was still completely at a loss as to his point.
“Well, with dragons the situation is only slightly different. Once hatching has comm
enced, the dragon can connect through the egg membrane. As only a breeding mother is ever near the cluster, this would ordinarily be the first large moving form that the dragon senses.”
“So?”
“Well, this hatchling’s egg has already cracked. And Monique is the first person to handle it...” he trailed off, wondering if Camille would ever catch on.
“Basically, Monique will be that hatchling's mama,” Quinn said.
Camille did not respond for a full minute, but her face changed from blind ignorance, to understanding, to outrage.
“What?” she roared.
“Yeah,” Quinn winced. “Not exactly the grandchild you envisioned.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kellan tried to ease her concerns. “That hatchling will never survive – it’s too early. I give it a couple of days at most once it’s fully emerged.”
“You’re wrong,” Monique called from her position on the floor. “He’s a fighter, just wait and see.”
“This thing with the dragons is too much,” Camille whined when the three of them emerged from the shed to speak privately, leaving Monique to the egg. “She’s been riding them, too.”
“Really?” Quinn realised the moment she said it that her lively curiosity was not the response Camille had been hoping for. Quinn couldn’t help but be fascinated. She had never encountered a dragon rider personally – a Guardian who could communicate with the fiery beasts and calm them to the point of physical contact without injury.
“She burnt her arm two days ago,” Camille continued. “She tried to hide it, of course, but I walked in when she was in the bath.”
“Is it bad?”
“No,” she admitted reluctantly, “it’s small – about the size of my palm. I took her over to Freya, who said it was only a mild burn. But that’s not the point.”
Guardians of Summerfeld: Full Series: Books 1-4 Page 34
