“Someone’s in trouble!”
“They’re gypsies,” he reminded her. The gypsies were none of their concern – Monique and Camille were. Quinn deliberated only a second before making her decision.
“Get these two back to Cliffdale.”
“Quinn, don’t be stupid. It’s none of our business!”
“Go,” Monique interrupted, “Jonas is back there,” she added, by way of explanation. “Please... make sure they’re all okay.”
Quinn didn’t wait to hear anymore. Sprinting back the way they had come she heard the screams getting louder as she approached the camp.
Bursting into the clearing she saw the entire gypsy community gathered around the bonfire. Nearby, Jonas was holding back a wild-eyed Rowena, who was struggling to break free of his vice-like grip, her eyes trained on something in the centre of the circle.
“Don’t Rowena,” he pleaded. Quinn stormed through the crush of bodies, pushing men and women roughly aside. When she burst through, the sight that greeted her made her stomach turn.
A big, burly gypsy man was beating a woman who couldn’t be much older than Quinn. Her right eye was swollen and her lip was split, blood dribbling down her chin. Nobody intervened, nobody came to her aid. Revolted, Quinn watched as the man drew his arm back for another blow, and an icy rage consumed her. She couldn’t allow this to happen; to hell with keeping a low profile. As she took a step towards the couple, a commotion on the opposite side of the fire caught her attention.
Drake burst from the edge of the crowd, seizing the back of the gypsy man’s shirt and hurling him backward where he crashed into a few bystanders, knocking them to the ground. Quinn was reminded of the night in Phil’s bar when he had defended another innocent woman. Stalking over to where the man lay on his back, bewildered, Drake sneered down at him. In his fury, he looked dangerous and nowhere near human. The sight of him alone immobilised the thuggish brute, who held up his arms to shield himself. For a horrifying second Quinn thought that Drake would attack again, but instead, he dropped his hands to his sides, exercising extreme self-control.
“Touch her again and I’ll kill you,” he growled. Nobody moved. The entire crowd had fallen silent, staring at Drake with varying emotions. The girl whimpered, and Quinn came to her senses. Stepping forward, she gently touched her shoulder before helping her to her feet.
“Are you okay?” she murmured, unsure of how to help.
“I’ll take her,” Rowena announced, appearing at Quinn’s side. Quinn’s eyes found Jonas’s and he lowered his gaze, humiliation washing over him. Quinn had just witnessed the worst of his people.
Quinn followed Drake as he stalked off. Such was his rage he had not even noticed her. She caught him as he passed a faded red Chevy truck.
“Hey,” she called out, before he could disappear into the trees. “That was a good thing you did back there.”
“For an evil, soulless creature, you mean,” he replied sardonically.
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Drake...”
“Look, Quinn, I get it. But this is exactly why I don’t believe in the myths – the fairytales, the Taboo, the Quest. What Eldon did was pit species against each other in a war that spanned centuries and resulted in nothing but hatred and death.”
“I agree,” her clear voice made his head jerk up. “I agree that Eldon made a mistake in killing Julian. You were right, he did start this war. But I do believe that he realised his mistake and he tried to end the violence by protecting those who remain. I believe in the Guardianship. The innocents who reside within Summerfeld deserve to be defended. If all vampires were like you there would be no need for the City’s existence, but the sad truth is that they’re not like you. They want to wipe out the precious few who remain. And I cannot allow that. My blood will not allow it.”
Drake’s eyes were guarded, unreadable, but he stepped closer to her, reaching for her hand. Moving the thick silver bracelet aside, he traced the lines of her tattoo with his finger.
“What if I told you that I have no desire to harm the creatures within the City?”
“I...” Quinn fumbled over her words. Drake had proven that he would not harm her - or Tristan, or Monique. He had had enough opportunities to do so, but he had never so much as laid a finger on them. He had even steered clear of Rafe, who was a ward of Summerfeld – the single greatest temptation for any vampire intent on the Quest. But he had done all of this at Quinn’s request. How could she be sure that, outside her influence, Drake wouldn’t make a different decision? She would certainly kill other vampires, although she could never bring herself to harm him. “I can’t afford to trust you,” she admitted. “Not with something this important.”
“Perhaps one day, you will,” he replied softly, his fingers still circling her wrist.
The sound of soft footfalls interrupted their quiet solitude and Quinn leapt away from him, pulling down her bracelet. They turned to find Rowena approaching.
“I wanted to thank you,” she addressed Drake in hushed tones, as though fearful of being overheard. “Both of you,” she added, nodding at Quinn. “Sometimes when they drink things get a little out of hand.”
“It’s none of our business,” Quinn replied, “but I am glad we could help, this time.”
Rowena stared at one then the other, a thoughtful look in her eye.
“Do I know you?” Drake’s words took Quinn by surprise.
“I don’t think so,” Rowena replied hesitantly. Drake took in the high cheekbones and warm eyes.
“Jasmine,” he breathed, remembering.
“What did you say?” Rowena stepped forward, stunned. “How do you know that name?”
“He probably heard it from one of the others,” Quinn interjected quickly, but Drake’s next words put paid to her lie.
“You look just like her,” he murmured. Quinn found her heart constrict with inexplicable envy at the fond way he gazed upon Rowena.
“You... you knew her?” Rowena gasped, sounding more delighted than shocked.
“She tried to help me once,” Drake explained. The memory of Charlotte hit him with fresh agony and the smile faded from his lips. Rowena seemed to sense that her ancestor had failed, but, instead of rushing from this place, from an immortal being who should have terrified her, she stepped forward and placed a hand on Drake’s arm.
“Perhaps one day I will be able to succeed where she failed,” she murmured, before stepping away and disappearing into the shadows.
“What was that about?” Quinn asked when they were alone.
“Nothing,” Drake shook his head. “Get out of here, Quinn.”
“I don’t want to leave things like this between us.”
He finally lifted his dark head to meet her gaze. “Like what?”
“With you being mad at me.”
“I’m not angry, Quinn,” he laughed, a low, melancholy sound. “I’m disappointed.”
Balthazar had been conspicuous by his absence during the fight at the bonfire. In truth, he had not witnessed any of it. Instead, he had walked through the woods, wanting to escape the merriment that only served to highlight his unhappiness. Rowena’s betrayal had cut him far more deeply than he was prepared to show and, despite everything, he found himself craving her presence in his life. It crucified him that the other men in camp had had their way with her – Melchior, in particular, had not stopped boasting of his sexual prowess and was strutting around the camp like a prize rooster. Upon his return, Balthazar heard voices up ahead and he took refuge behind a wizened old oak tree to listen.
The conversation between the female Guardian and the man named Drake shocked him to his very core. Drake was a vampire, Balthazar was certain of it. But the fact that a Guardian would converse with such an abomination, never mind befriend one, as Quinn had so obviously done - well, Balthazar would never have believed it if he hadn’t heard it with his own ears. And if she was prepared to give a vamp
ire the benefit of the doubt, then maybe, just maybe, she would be willing to hear him out too.
Chapter 14
Two days later Quinn walked down the dim passage towards the training room. She found that physical exertion was the only thing that cleared her mind, and it was an excuse to be alone. Tristan was angry with her, that much was clear, although he had kept her secret. She loved Tristan deeply, and her feelings for him had been rekindled over the past few weeks. It was logical that they should be together – Tristan was everything she needed. He was strong and kind, and he had the same values, the same beliefs that she did. Drake was wrong for her on every level. He was cruel and could be as cold as ice, but he also challenged her, and every so often he displayed more compassion than any man she had ever met.
To her chagrin, the training room was far from empty. Isaiah had Monique going through her paces, and, to Quinn’s surprise, he had roped Blair and Piper in to help. Piper was sparring with Monique in the centre of the room and Quinn took a seat beside Blair to watch.
“She’s getting better,” Blair nodded towards Monique.
“To be fair, Piper’s not really trying that hard,” Quinn mused after a moment’s consideration.
“Piper’s too soft for her own good.” It wasn’t an insult – Piper was known for being gentle – but simply a statement of fact.
“She can be lethal when she needs to,” Quinn pointed out. “That’s what counts.” Blair regarded her steadily, her eye dropping to Quinn’s naked wrist. She left the wrist watch off within Summerfeld’s realm.
“I always wondered why you weren’t branded,” Blair was thoughtful, “when Garrett was.”
Garrett was the youngest of the Hunters, his black tattoo appearing only a few decades ago.
“I always thought it would be you,” Blair continued. “You have the makings of a Hunter. Avery did, too,” she added respectfully.
“Meaning I could still kick your ass in a fight,” Quinn grinned. Blair scoffed.
“How did you feel,” Quinn asked, “when it turned black?” Blair had been a normal Guardian for less than a century before becoming a Hunter over four hundred years ago.
“It felt right,” she replied. “The instincts were stronger than I expected, and I knew I would miss the wards given how much time we spend in man’s realm, but I just knew it was supposed to be that way. I figure our job is yet another way of keeping them safe, even if it’s from afar. The weirdest part was that I had to go and find my new crystal, the one that belonged to the hunter I replaced. And then this new Guardian arrives and demands my own... he was pretty aggressive about it.”
Quinn laughed. Within their ranks, if a Guardian transformed into a Hunter, their crystals would change hands. A new Guardian could be branded a Hunter immediately, but more often than not Hunters emerged from the existing Guardian ranks, just as in Blair’s case.
“I don’t envy you working with Daniel all day,” Quinn remarked wryly, as Isaiah called her over.
Blair watched Quinn go. She had always admired her, apart from the two years she had turned her back on them. Blair had no ties to the human world. Her parents had been farmers, as had generations of Lindbergs before them, and Blair had grown up in a modest, unassuming farmhouse, surrounded by fields of cane. Together with her older brother they had explored every inch of their family’s land, and Blair could drive a tractor before she could drive a car. She and James had been inseparable, as close as any siblings could be, until he had met Sam - a girl from a nearby farm, the girl he eventually married. At twenty-four, Blair was a bridesmaid at their wedding, through formality, rather than her sister-in-law’s desire to include her. James and Sam had occupied a sweet cottage near the main house on the farm which they would one day take over.
Blair had been devastated to lose James’s affection, and slowly, Sam had driven a wedge between the siblings, jealous of her husband’s devotion to his sister. To be fair, Blair had been a somewhat wild youth, and, on more than one occasion, James had had to leave a bristling Sam to bail Blair out of some or other trouble. More often than not, Blair would convince James to join her, the two stumbling home in the early hours of the morning. It had culminated in a fight causing Sam to issue an ultimatum to her husband. Your sister or me, she had declared. Blair had seen the panic and the pain in her brother’s eyes and realised that he could not choose between them. He was too good, and too loyal. She also knew that Sam would not waver in her decision. She would leave him, and it would be Blair’s fault. Blair couldn’t live with that, and so she had left, leaving just a brief, scribbled note; having made up a story about travelling for a few months. Blair still didn’t know if she would have returned eventually. She never found out, because just a few days after leaving her family behind her tattoo had burned into her wrist and her travelling had ended at the doors of the Cliffdale Cathedral.
She had only ever returned to the farm twice in the centuries since then. Once, simply to gaze upon James’s new-born son, a round, pink baby with James’s dark curly hair. She had snuck past Sam, feet up on the couch downstairs, and had paid a short visit to her nephew. Upon leaving, Blair had glimpsed her brother across the fields, instructing the farmhands. He had glanced in her direction, his body freezing at the sight, but by the time he shouted her name, Blair was gone. She could not go back to that life, not ever, and her family would be happy without her. She had cut all emotional ties, or so she believed. And yet, she had gone back again, entrusting the farm with her most valued possession.
“Blair!” Quinn called loudly, drawing her attention back to the training room. Monique was finished, her face flushed, as she took a swig of water from a ceramic cup. Piper was standing off to the side of the room, smiling at Quinn, who looked excited about something. “You want to test my theory?” Quinn challenged, beckoning Blair forward.
“You’re on,” Blair replied, jogging over to join her.
Isaiah backed away as the two women squared off, both raising their arms in a fighting stance. When they moved, he heard Monique catch her breath beside him. Both Quinn and Blair were exceptional warriors, their skills surpassing those of most of the male Guardians. They dodged and attacked so quickly that it was impossible to discern where their defence ended and offence began. Piper had crossed the room to stand beside the others as they watched.
“I want to be like them when I grow up,’ Monique breathed, mesmerised.
“I don’t think either of us could ever be like them,” Piper mused.
“They are exceptional,” Isaiah agreed, “but then, so are you two. I don’t know anyone who could do your job, Piper, and there is certainly no one among us who could tame the dragons’ hearts as you have done, Monique.” Monique blushed at the compliment.
“Who do you think will win?” she asked, still tracking the blur of chaos before them. Quinn had landed some heavy blows but Blair was countering them well, and she caught Quinn with a sharp stab to her chest.
“Neither,” Isaiah admitted. “Those two will never concede defeat. They’d fight till the death if I allowed it.” He stepped forward to break up Quinn and Blair’s fight, but as Monique watched him go she sensed that, for the first time, Isaiah hadn’t been entirely truthful.
“Who’d really win?” she whispered to Piper, but the older Guardian just smiled, urging her to guess instead.
“Who do you think?”
“Blair... she’s the Hunter, right? So I’d say she’d probably win?”
Piper didn’t correct her, but she didn’t agree either.
Quinn had enjoyed the heat of the fight with Blair but she’d be lying if she said her body wasn’t feeling the effects of Blair’s deadly force. Both women grumbled half-heartedly when Isaiah declared it a tie, but in truth they were grateful for the reprieve. Blair left then to check in with Daniel, and Piper took Monique home. Camille still worried if she was out too long.
Bending to retrieve her sweater which she had discarded before her sparring session, she winced at a
shooting pain in her side, compliments of Blair’s mean right hook. She took comfort in the fact that, while not exactly hobbling, Blair had definitely been favouring her left leg as she walked out.
“I have cancelled Monique’s training tomorrow,” Isaiah murmured behind her, keeping his voice low. Pain forgotten, Quinn whirled around.
“Are you...?”
“Yes,” he replied gently. “I must ask that you stay away from the Cathedral tomorrow, Quinn. I insist,” he added, as she opened her mouth to argue. “I will find you when I am done, and let you know what I find.” Knowing that to refuse would simply mean that Isaiah would delay exhuming Avery’s body, Quinn gritted her teeth and nodded.
She woke the following morning after a restless night with an acidic taste in her mouth and a dull, sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t shake. She went to visit Jack and Ava, and then popped in on Freya and baby Sage in an effort to keep her mind off the terrible deed she had asked Isaiah to perform. It was worse for him, she reminded herself, over and over again, guilt washing over her in endless waves at what she had asked of him. It was too late to go back now.
Quinn knew that Freya could sense something was wrong, but she didn’t push it, allowing Quinn to simply be; cradling the infant to her chest like a talisman. Eventually, when she couldn’t bear to sit still for a minute more, Quinn made her way to the cornflower field, enjoying the solitude. She didn’t want her dark thoughts to permeate the serenity of the City.
A screech in the distance caught her attention and she followed the sound to see a dragon venturing farther from Dragon’s Peak than she had ever seen. Quinn smiled as she noticed the tiny figure broadside its back. Monique was obviously taking full advantage of her day off to indulge in her favourite pastime.
“Dragon riding,” Quinn murmured to herself, still in awe. Was Isaiah right? Was everything changing? One Guardian was missing... another was little more than a child. Quinn possessed two of the twelve crystals and she was consorting with a vampire – her mortal enemy.
Guardians of Summerfeld: Full Series: Books 1-4 Page 37
