“I see you’ve found another accomplice in your uncle,” Isaiah teased Monique as they passed through the Gateway the following day. Monique grinned up at Tristan, who had agreed to come along at Quinn’s request. Quinn preferred to have back-up, especially since Camille was coming along too. If things went badly, she would need Tristan’s help.
“Just think of it as an exploratory mission – a way to gather information,” Quinn murmured under her breath at him as they approached the internet cafe. Monique and Camille were walking ahead, just out of earshot. “Remember, they don’t know who we are.”
“Is that him?” Tristan narrowed his eyes at a geeky-looking kid with glasses, who couldn’t have been a day over twelve. He clearly didn’t like the idea of his niece having a male friend.
“No,” Quinn muttered, and then, as Jonas emerged from the cafe, half a head taller than Tristan, and infinitely more menacing-looking than the bespectacled boy, she murmured sympathetically, “that’s him.”
To Jonas’s credit his manners were impeccable and he was so obviously delighted to see that they had come. He chatted amiably with Monique the whole way to camp, making sure to include the others too, as he pointed out various plants and birdlife. Despite the happy start, Quinn felt the tension mount in her body as they reached the gypsy settlement.
Rowena was the first to notice the small group entering the clearing. Her initial happiness that Jonas had brought a friend to the bonfire evaporated as her eyes came to rest on Quinn. She recognised her instantly as the Guardian they had followed from the gas station. Her smile died on her lips as she quickly scanned the crowd of gypsies for Balthazar. She spotted him emerging from the trees on the other side of the camp and, lifting her skirts, she quickly ran over to him.
“Balthazar,” she gasped, but he cut her dead.
“I told you to never speak to me again.”
“Look, you fool!” she pointed across to where Jonas was introducing the newcomers. Balthazar frowned in confusion, and she hastily continued. “She’s one of the Guardians, I saw her at the gas station.”
“A Guardian? What is she doing here?”
“She came with Jonas. I think he’s befriended the young girl.” Balthazar could not take Jonas to task for bringing outsiders into their festivities – gypsy parties were open to anyone – the more the merrier, but his son obviously had no idea who these particular people really were or he would never have brought them.
Composing himself, Balthazar pushed past Rowena and crossed the clearing.
“Jonas,” he boomed, “aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”
Jonas searched his father’s face carefully but found no trace of unease. And as long as Jonas kept the Guardians' true identities hidden, there was no reason to worry.
“This is Monique,” he announced proudly, drawing her forward. The red-headed girl was beautiful, Balthazar noted approvingly. “And this is her mother, Camille,” Jonas continued. Balthazar clasped Camille’s hand warmly. “And her uncle, Tristan.” At this, the only man in the group stepped forward. Balthazar couldn’t be sure, but the presence of a heavy metal wristwatch led him to believe that Tristan could well be a Guardian. He didn’t even bother checking Monique’s wrist – she was far too young. “And Quinn,” Jonas finished.
There was no mistaking this Guardian. Even without Rowena’s advance warning, Balthazar would have known. She was beautiful, but her beauty did not fool him. She carried herself with all the assurance of a true warrior, and her eyes were shrewd and distrustful as she extended her hand towards him.
“Welcome,” he gushed, with all the charm he could muster. “It’s always good to meet new friends.”
“Thank you for having us,” Camille answered for the group, her natural curiosity getting the better of her as she eyed the food being set out on trestle tables and the colourful garb of the gypsy women.
“Would you like to borrow an outfit?” Rowena asked softly, having joined the group. “It does add to the experience.” She smiled politely, even though she could feel the waves of contempt emanating from Balthazar, who refused to acknowledge her.
“This is my mother,” Jonas drawled defiantly, enjoying the look of fury on Balthazar’s face, “Rowena.”
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Monique threw formality to the wind and stepped forward to hug her. Rowena was unbelievably touched and she squeezed Monique back.
“Come,” she beckoned the three women. Quinn tried to protest but Camille gave her such a stern look that she reluctantly complied. They headed for a large open tent inside which clothing racks were filled to bursting with brightly coloured, albeit rather shabby ensembles.
“Let’s get you a drink,” Balthazar offered, as he, Jonas and Tristan watched them leave. Tristan did not particularly want to drink anything gypsy-made, but given the awkwardness of the situation, he gratefully accepted a home-brewed beer. Nothing would arouse the gypsies’ suspicion more than behaving like an alert Guardian, Quinn had told him. They needed to appear relaxed.
When the three women finally emerged from the tent, Tristan almost didn’t recognise them. Each had a flower behind her ear, and Monique had blooms trailing all down the heavy red braid that was pulled forward over one shoulder. Their outfits were vibrant and sexy – long, heavy skirts and low blouses that tied up the front, with full, soft sleeves. Tristan didn’t think he had ever seen Quinn in a dress before. She looked awkward and her features were too chiselled to really pull it off, but she still drew the eyes of most of the men sitting around the now blazing bonfire. He could see, though, that through her casual facade, Quinn watched everything. She would not drop her guard. He only wished he could pretend as well as she could.
As the afternoon progressed Quinn could see Tristan relaxing, little by little. Despite what they had thought, the gypsies were entertaining, hospitable and quick to laugh. They regaled them with stories and Camille even had a card reading, the results of which she would not disclose, but it seemed to make her happy.
“It’s all rubbish, right?” Quinn asked Rowena as one of the gypsy men bore Camille off to dance. “It’s just fancy guesswork.”
“Some of it,” Rowena smiled. “Some people are easier to read than others. Camille is transparent – what you see is what you get. Unlike you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that you’re harder to read. It’s a compliment,” she added quickly.
Jonas was dancing with Monique. He didn’t remember ever enjoying himself this much, and the more time he spent with her, the more she captivated him.
“Do you think they suspect us?” Monique murmured, casting nervous glances at Balthazar and the other men surrounding him.
“No,” Jonas shook his head.
“Good.” She almost tripped as he twirled her. “You can’t tell them, Jonas. Ever. If your dad found out who we were, I would never be able to see you again.”
“He won’t find out,” Jonas promised.
As the sun lowered on the horizon, Quinn insisted they had to leave. They had already stayed too long and would never make it back before nightfall.
“Please can we stay... just a little bit longer?” Monique begged. Camille, who was thoroughly enjoying herself, sided with her daughter.
“She’s having fun,” she told Quinn and a hovering Tristan. “We won’t stay late. Let her have this – tomorrow she can go straight back to her new life. What is an extra hour or two going to hurt?”
“One hour,” Tristan acceded. Quinn rounded on him in surprise.
“She is only fifteen,” he murmured. “I guess she deserves to have a little fun.”
Secretly Quinn thought that the strength of the gypsy ale had played a large part in his change of heart, but she was only too happy to oblige. Monique reminded her so much of herself, and Quinn had always thought the Guardians were too hard on new recruits. It was even worse for Monique because she was still just a child.
Lost in her own thoughts,
Quinn almost missed the tall figure moving like a ghost through the trees. In the instant that she stepped forward he was gone, but she could have sworn it was him.
“Drake,” she murmured.
“What did you say?” Tristan whirled to look at the same spot she was still staring at.
“I thought I saw...”
“The vampire?”
“I must have been seeing things,” she shook her head.
“It’s not quite dark yet,” he pointed out in agreement.
They watched Monique and Camille dancing around the still-blazing fire.
“Will you dance with me, Quinn?” Tristan asked.
Finding no reason to decline, she took his proffered hand, jumping slightly at the jolt of electricity that surged between them when their hands touched. Tristan must have felt it too, because his eyes widened and he stared down at their fingers entwined together.
“Quinn,” he pulled her towards him, placing one hand around her waist, while the other kept a firm grip on her hand. “Why are you fighting this?”
“Fighting what?” she feigned innocence. She had been wrong before. Tristan had sensed her distancing herself.
“This,” he murmured, drawing her close. He was so familiar, his smell, his warmth, the long length of his lean body. Quinn leaned back slightly, giving herself breathing room.
“Do you really think we can just pick up where we left off?” she asked.
“I thought we already had,” he teased, and Quinn felt her cheeks flush before he turned serious once more. “I think we owe it to ourselves to try. And I honestly believe that Avery would want us to be happy.” His words were laden with the sorrow of her loss, but they were also determined.
“How do you know what Avery would want?”
“Because she loved you – more than anything,” he replied simply, “wouldn’t you want the same if the situation were reversed? For two people you loved to find happiness again?”
He was right, Quinn realised. If Avery and Tristan were here now and the roles were reversed, she would want them both to be happy - to find love again and to live their lives without any guilt.
“Maybe you’re right,” she murmured, allowing him to draw her close once more.
“I don’t know about you, but the other night meant a lot to me,” he murmured into her hair.
“It meant a lot to me, too,” she replied automatically.
They danced in silence for a few minutes and then the music changed tempo and an upbeat song replaced the slow dance number they had been moving to. Smiling, Tristan took Quinn’s hand and started to spin her – this way and that - until she was worried she might burst out of her dress. Laughing, they dipped and weaved, his boyish charm so familiar and endearing that Quinn found herself reconsidering every reason she had to doubt their relationship. When the music slowed once more, she turned to make her way back to the side of the clearing, but Tristan pulled her back and she collided with his chest. His warm arms encircled her waist and his open, honest face stared down at her.
Slowly, Quinn moved her face up towards his. She could feel the rapid rhythm of his heart drumming beneath her fingertips. And then, just as she closed her eyes, a warm hand trailed down her bare back and took hold of her right hand. Before she could even register that both of Tristan’s hands were still placed firmly around her waist, she was pulled into a spin, away from Tristan and into Drake’s arms.
Chapter 13
Quinn hadn’t even realised the sun had fully set. Tristan stepped forward angrily, his irritation turning to outrage as he sensed the vampire’s presence, but he could hardly attack Drake in the crowd without giving their identities away and he could not risk Drake reacting violently. There were too many innocent lives at stake.
“What are you doing?” Quinn asked, staring up at Drake. She quickly shook her head at Tristan as he took two long strides towards them, warning him not to make a scene.
“Take your hands off her, demon,” Tristan growled, his hands flexing into fists at his sides.
“She will come to no harm with me,” Drake replied coolly. “And I will return her to you shortly.”
“Let go of her,” Tristan repeated. He could not bear the sight of his mortal enemy’s hands on Quinn’s body.
“Tristan, it's fine. This is Drake, who I told you about. Drake, this is Tristan.” The two men eyed one another with mutual enmity. “We don’t need a scene,” Quinn warned. “Tristan, go and find your sister. I think it’s time to get going.”
“What if he...”
“Tristan,” she hissed, “I can handle this!”
“If you touch her,” Tristan warned.
“I think we should let the lady decide,” Drake retorted arrogantly, before sweeping Quinn away through the crowd in an elaborate waltz.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Quinn asked, keeping an eye on Monique. She trusted Drake, but she was still responsible for Monique, and she was not sure his resolve could stand the temptation of such a young, defenceless Guardian.
“I mean the young redhead no harm,” Drake murmured, following her gaze. Of course he had already worked out what Monique was.
“What do you want?”
“Have you exhumed your sister’s body yet?”
“How do you know...?”
“It’s what I would do. It’s the only way to test my theory.”
“I still think you’re wrong, but I’ll have an answer soon - one way or another. But that’s not why you’re here,” she pointed out. He could have simply called if he had wanted to ask about Avery.
“No,” he admitted, “it’s not.” Quinn didn’t know if it was her imagination, but his hand seemed to tighten around her waist and his long fingers increased their pressure on her hand. Staring at her without a hint of embarrassment he seemed to be searching for something. And then his usually indifferent expression morphed into one of tenderness. “I lied,” he murmured.
“You lied?”
“Yes. I told you you should be with Tristan. I was wrong. You don’t belong with him.”
“Really?” Quinn’s breath caught in her throat because she knew where he was going, but she posed the question anyway, “And where do I belong?” His lips curled up in a small smile.
“With me.” The words were so direct that Quinn missed a step and tripped towards him. Expertly he caught her, his hands pinning her arms to her side.
“You’re crazy,” she muttered, but she didn’t resist as he kept moving, towards the edge of the clearing and into the trees. Only when they were deep in the woods did he release her.
“I don’t know why, but I cannot get you out of my head, Quinn,” he admonished, as if it were her fault. “And I know you feel something for me too.” His eyes dared her to deny it.
“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” she replied automatically, playing right into his hands. “The point is, I’m a Guardian and you’re a vampire. Nothing can ever...”
“So, because you have been taught that it’s wrong, we should just deny the way we feel?”
“I don’t know how I feel.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No,” she insisted, “I don’t. Besides, you’re with Genevieve, and I’m with Tristan...”
“Why are you so determined to fight this?” He pointedly ignored the mention of the others. They were irrelevant.
“Because it’s wrong.”
“According to who?”
“Everyone!” she raised her hands in exasperation.
“You know, Quinn, this is exactly why I abandoned the Quest,” he murmured. “I was tired of being told what to do... told what to believe... told who to love.” That last part triggered something in Quinn’s memory.
“Does this have anything to do with her,” she asked, “with the Fae woman who...?”
“That has nothing to do with this. I’m talking about you and me.”
“And I told you; I’m a Guardian and you’re a vampire. I’m not having this conversa
tion.”
“So that’s your decision?” he sounded angry, and oddly disappointed.
“Yes,” she nodded, unable to meet his eyes.
“You really have been brainwashed.”
“I have not! I happen to believe in it all!”
“Then tell me,” he retorted coolly, “if I was just an ordinary man and you were just an ordinary woman... what would your answer be then?”
Quinn’s mouth opened to reply but no words came out. Drake’s question had thrown her and she honestly didn’t have the answer.
“That’s what I thought,” he narrowed his eyes. “I thought you had more backbone than that, Quinn. Obviously I was wrong. Go,” he added, sweeping his arm in the direction of the camp. “Go and be with your Guardian, if that’s where you believe you belong.”
“I’ll... I’ll let you know what I learn about my sister,” she muttered as she brushed past him.
By the time she returned to the bonfire, Tristan had rounded up Camille and Monique.
“What happened?” he demanded, striding forward to meet her.
“Nothing,” Quinn cast a surreptitious glance around. “He just wanted to talk.”
“About Avery?”
“Keep your voice down!” Quinn hissed. Monique was not far behind.
“Quinn...”
“Later,” she insisted. “We’ve been too long already. It’s time to go.”
She bade a quick farewell to Rowena, nodding absentmindedly as the woman asked if she would be seeing them again, before their group set out through the trees.
They were less than half a mile from the camp when they heard the screaming. Monique and Camille had their heads together, discussing the day’s events and Tristan and Quinn walked in silence, not wanting to mention Drake in front of Camille, for fear of alarming her. Quinn knew they would discuss it, though. She could tell by the angry set of Tristan’s jaw that he would not just let it go. When the screaming began, it was the high cries of a woman, followed by deep male laughter. Quinn turned back towards the camp in alarm.
“Leave it,” Tristan grabbed her wrist.
Guardians of Summerfeld: Full Series: Books 1-4 Page 36
