“He was blocking my girlfriend’s view.”
“He was,” a new voice agreed petulantly. Quinn recognised her immediately as the teenage girl who had been sitting behind Jonas in the theatre. Unlike Monique, she was completely unperturbed by the aggressive turn of events. No doubt she thought her boyfriend a hero for his childish display of teenage machismo.
“So you threw food at them?” Quinn asked dryly.
“Who threw the first punch?” the security guard insisted.
“I did,” Jonas admitted, speaking for the first time. Quinn wished he sounded a little more apologetic.
“Only because he grabbed you!” Monique interjected, as the security guard came to his decision.
“You,” he jabbed a wizened finger at Jonas, “you’re coming with me.”
“Monique,” Tristan called, as she made to follow Jonas, “we’re going home.”
Despite the unfairness of the situation, Quinn didn’t contradict him. Their only priority was keeping Monique safe, but Quinn still watched as the other boy sauntered off, wishing she could wipe the smug look from his face.
“I’m going with them!” Monique exclaimed. “I saw it all happen, I need to tell them it wasn’t Jonas’s fault.”
“You have told them,” Tristan reminded her. “Now leave it alone. This is his business… we’re getting out of here, now.”
“I’ll meet you at the car,” Quinn murmured. “I’ll make sure he’s okay,” she added in an undertone to Monique, who sagged in relief.
Quinn made her way towards the administration offices. On her arrival she found the grey-haired security guard explaining what had happened to a prim, weasel-faced woman who kept casting looks of ill-concealed disdain at Jonas. Jonas sat perfectly still in an uncomfortable-looking chair carrying an air of resignation about him, as though this was perfectly acceptable.
“Excuse me,” Quinn interrupted the older man’s long-winded narration, “I’d like to remind you that there were two boys involved in this incident, one of whom you allowed to simply walk away without any consequences.”
“He started it,” the security guard retorted, jabbing a slim finger over his shoulder in Jonas’s general direction.
“Actually, he didn’t. The other boy grabbed hold of him first. Jonas simply retaliated, as I’m sure we all would.”
“We’ve called the police,” the woman replied curtly. “They will get to the bottom of this.”
“The police?” Quinn gaped, and Jonas’s shoulders stooped even lower. “You can’t be serious?”
“I do not have time to deal with hoodlums,” she explained, as if the entire situation was beneath her. “If it turns out the boy was not in the wrong we will not press any charges. He will, however, probably have to pay a penalty for disrupting the peace. As far as I know there was no damage to property…” she turned to the security guard for validation, and Quinn gave a snort of derision.
“Damage to property? It was a petty squabble!”
“Be that as it may, we have to set an example. We will not tolerate this type of behaviour.”
“Fine,” Quinn sighed, turning finally to Jonas. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he nodded.
“I’m going to wait with him,” Quinn announced to the room at large. Jonas might not be her responsibility, but he was a minor and she would not leave him alone to deal with this. “Can I call your parents?” she added quietly as she took a seat beside him.
“I suppose I’m going to have to, eventually.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll explain it wasn’t your fault.”
“Thanks.” He gave her the number and then fell silent once more.
“It’s a misdemeanour; the worst you’ll get is a small fine,” she reassured him, before calling his father.
Balthazar cursed as he hung up the phone. Before he met Jonas at the local police station he would have to put his pride in his pocket. As he approached Rowena’s truck a few of the gypsy women surrounding it scattered. His dark mood had been festering through the camp and nobody wanted to be around him or risk having his irascibility taken out on them.
“Rowena,” he grunted, as he reached the back of the truck.
‘Balthazar?” As she lifted the flap, Rowena’s heart soared, and for one crazy moment she believed that he had come to take her back. Then she saw the grim set of his mouth, and her expectant expression collapsed. “What is it?” she asked. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious – nowadays he acted as though she didn’t exist.
“It’s Jonas. He’s at the police station. It would seem he got himself into a fight at the mall.”
Rowena knew the look on his face well; Balthazar was furious.
“It may not have been his fault,” she replied pointedly. “You know how other kids treat our own.”
“The Guardian called me; apparently she witnessed the whole incident. She says it wasn’t his fault.”
“Well then why are you in such a foul temper? Even more so than usual, I mean,” she added spitefully. Balthazar shifted uncomfortably.
“Jonas has been charged a penalty for disturbing the peace…” He let the implication hang between them, not wanting to come out and ask her directly. Rowena realised in a flash why he had lowered himself to speak with her.
“You need money,” she remarked drily. “Well, that’s ironic.” She leaned into the truck bed and retrieved a wad of cash from her pillow-slip.
Balthazar hesitated. The money she offered him was tainted; a symbol of her betrayal, but she was right - he needed it.
“Take it,” Rowena snapped.
“That’s too much…”
“It’s everything I have. Use it well, there won’t be much more for a while.”
The annual fair had come and gone and as they had settled in the area there would be no other opportunities to make money for some time.
“How will you survive without your guilty pleasures?” Balthazar sneered.
“You have made sure that I am kept busy enough.”
Her dark eyes flashed, and Balthazar stepped away from the accusation reflected in their depths. “Take it,” she hissed, jabbing the money at his chest. “It was meant for you.”
Snatching it from her, Balthazar spat viciously at the ground near her feet, and then shoved it into the pocket of his tattered jeans.
“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” Balthazar snapped, when, after completing a mountain of paperwork and paying a hefty fine, Jonas was finally released with no formal charge laid against him. “Considering you are trying to impress the Guardians,” Balthazar continued, “I would think you might behave in a more civil manner.”
“I told you I didn’t start it, dad.”
This was technically true, but Jonas knew he could easily have ignored the other boy’s taunting. He had spent his entire life learning how to switch off. The truth was that Jonas had been itching for a fight. Thanks to Balthazar, what should have been a pleasant evening with Monique had become nothing more than another betrayal of her trust, and, as he couldn’t lash out at his father, he had seized the opportunity to act out some of his frustration.
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Balthazar suddenly asked, in afterthought.
Jonas laughed out loud. “I’m fine,” he drawled.
Chapter 21
Back in Summerfeld, Quinn went in search of Monique.
“She’s out back,” Freya told her when she reached the Faery’s house, “but I wouldn’t go out just yet. She’s in a foul temper.”
“She doesn’t understand how dangerous it is for her to be associating with the gypsies,” Quinn grumbled, accepting Freya’s offer of tea.
“Her heart rules her head,” Freya agreed. “But it’s not such a bad thing.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because of Enah and Julian,” Freya replied simply, taking a seat opposite Quinn. “They fell in love, it was that simple. And if they had simply been allowed to love one another, no
ne of this would ever have happened. We would all still be living side by side, with no fear of threat or attack.”
“I find it hard to believe that the Fae and the vampires ever lived side by side,” Quinn commented skeptically.
“That’s because you were brought into our world as it is, in the midst of a brutal and bloody war. Before Eldon and Julian divided our people we were all one community. The vampires were always the darkest of us, because they required human blood to drink, but they were kinder then, influenced by Eldon’s compassion. Some even believed that Eldon used his magic to grant them the gift of persuasion, so they could feed freely and compel their victims to forget.”
“But you don’t believe that?” Quinn interrupted, hearing the skepticism in Freya’s voice.
“No,” she admitted. “Eldon upheld the Taboo, I don’t think he would have broken it and then punished others for the same crime. I think the Fae simply prefer not to believe that the vampires were born with their own gifts. They had their own laws back then, too. They didn’t kill their human victims and the few who did were dealt with.”
“Hearing you speak like this…” Quinn shook her head, “friendships between vampires and faeries. It seems so unreal.” She thought of her own friendship with Drake and realised that it might not be that difficult to imagine.
“Oh yes,” Freya smiled, “despite their darker nature, the Fae loved the vampires just as much as the other species. In fact,” she recalled, “I believe one of Eldon’s chief advisors was a vampire, Lucian, I think his name was.” She trailed off for a second as though trying to remember, but then shook her head. “Anyway, once the war broke out, the vampires embraced their darkest side, spurred on by Aleksei. They stopped feeding and starting killing, without consequence. And of course, they started hunting us down, slaughtering anyone who had stood beside Eldon.”
“So he created the City,” Quinn murmured. She was struck, yet again, by how imperfect Eldon had been. “It’s all so senseless,” she continued. “Surely we can make things right? Eldon is gone – he died for his mistakes. Julian’s death was avenged. Why can’t it all stop?”
“Aleksei will never stop. Everything I am telling you existed a long time ago. It’s not the same now. Vampires have been created to hate the Fae. Aleksei has poisoned their hearts against us. We can’t go back.”
The image of Drake swam in Quinn’s eyes and she only just stopped herself from correcting Freya. Surely Drake was proof that she was wrong. If he could see past the feud, then who was to say that there weren’t others like him? What if there was a way for the war to end peacefully?
“I had better go and check on Monique,” she changed the subject, getting to her feet.
“Be kind to her,” Freya pleaded. “Remember, she represents the very thing that separates us from the vampires - she listens to her heart. To try to change that would make us no better than the monsters Aleksei has created.”
Quinn found Monique sitting cross-legged on the floor of Kellan’s shed in an uncharacteristically bad mood. Lucky, the baby Chumana dragon, hopped around her, eventually leaping onto her lap in an effort to get her attention. His sharp claws scratched her legs, even through the thick leather pants she had taken to wearing. Absent-mindedly, Monique scratched him just behind the ears and he emitted a low growl of contentment, curled himself into a perfect circle and promptly fell asleep.
She hated what had happened at the mall. Monique was no fool and she could hardly fail to notice the way people stared at Jonas in public; with disdain, and even a little fear. Jonas looked dangerous, but he wasn’t. He was kind, and clever, and Monique cared very deeply for him. She saw past his shabby clothing and his rough manner to the person beneath it all. She didn’t believe what the other Guardians told her. Jonas was no threat to her, or to the City. She would know if he was.
“Hey,” Quinn entered the shed and sat down beside her.
“How’s Jonas?” Monique asked immediately, desperate for information.
“He’s fine. I phoned his dad and he’s on his way to collect him.” Quinn reached over and stroked Lucky’s scaly head. The sleeping dragon didn’t stir.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me to stay away from him, too?”
“Who told you to do that? Tristan?” Monique nodded in confirmation.
“Well, I’m going to go out on a limb here and disagree with your uncle. Beside the fact that I doubt anything any of us could say would change your mind about him, Jonas is a nice boy.”
“But…” Monique pressed.
“But the gypsies are dangerous. Don’t look at me like that; I’m on your side. I know that Jonas means a lot to you but you can’t let your feelings for him cloud your judgment. If the gypsies ever discovered the location of the City…” Quinn trailed off, letting the significance of her words sink in. Monique stayed silent, her face burning. Jonas had already discovered the portal – had been within Cliffdale’s enchantments and Monique had kept it a secret.
“What harm could they really do?” she asked eventually. “Even if they managed to find us, they couldn’t enter the City, not without a Guardian to take them through the Gateway. And they’re only human; it’s not as if they could overpower us.”
“Gypsies are manipulative and very crafty. They wouldn’t use force, but there are other ways to best even the strongest enemy.”
“Like what?”
“Like taking a hostage,” Quinn turned to face her, her expression deadly serious. “Do you have any idea how far we would go if your life was at stake?” Monique blushed again under her scrutiny.
“They won’t find us,” she stammered, praying that Jonas was truly the person she believed him to be, and that her faith in him was justified, because if he betrayed her, the consequences could be catastrophic.
“I want to see him, just to check that he’s all right,” she murmured as Quinn got to her feet.
“Let things blow over. His father sounded pretty upset. Give it a couple of days and I’ll take you to him myself. And I’m sorry… for being there… for chaperoning.”
Monique shrugged. “I knew you would be.”
Quinn headed back to the Cathedral, all thoughts of Monique and Jonas forgotten in the wake of what was about to happen.
“We’re really going to do this?” she asked, as her gaze fell over Rafe and Channon, standing slightly apart from the others. Tonight was the full moon and the two wolves were being sent back inside the City. The incident at the mall this afternoon had been a welcome distraction but now reality had asserted itself.
“We are,” Isaiah confirmed sadly. “It’s not our…”
“I swear, Isaiah, if you say ‘it’s not our place’ one more time, I’m going to punch you in the mouth,” Quinn snapped. Piper’s mouth dropped open, but Isaiah simply smiled.
“Fair enough,” he chuckled. As Rafe passed him, Isaiah placed a hand on the wolf’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he said kindly. “To both of you,” he added, smiling at Channon, whose amber eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. They made a fine couple, proud, strong and fearless; their only concern being for each other.
“Thank you,” Rafe nodded, meeting Quinn’s level gaze as she took his hand and led them back through the Gateway.
“Where will you go?” Quinn asked as they stood in the late afternoon sun. The fountain gurgled peacefully behind them.
“Lunar Grove,” Rafe replied immediately. “We may as well get this over with.”
“Good luck,” Quinn echoed Isaiah’s words. Rafe looked set to leave, but then he stopped, swinging back around to face her.
“Thank you,” he said softly, “for everything.”
A lump formed in Quinn’s throat and all she could do was nod.
“Yes, thank you,” Channon echoed.
Quinn waited until they were out of sight before walking slowly down the street to her house. She seldom wore her Guardian garb; it was only really the Hunters who made use of theirs, but the act of donning the bl
ack cargo pants, tank top and heavy black boots calmed her. She would not need a stake, but she pulled a crossbow from the back of her closet and slipped a small, silver-hilted dagger into her belt. As night fell she refrained from turning on her lamps, not wanting anyone to know she was home, or to notice when she left.
Chapter 22
Drake let himself into the dark house, tossing his keys onto the small table in the hall. He had made good time, driving way too fast in an effort to get as far away from Quinn as quickly as possible. He had thought that the more space he put between them, the easier it would be to get her out of his head, but sadly that had not been the case. Hearing Genevieve moving around upstairs, he mentally prepared himself. He could not confront her outright; it would do no good to arouse her suspicion, and, if Genevieve suspected that he was looking for information that might be used against the council, not even her adoration for him would stop her from informing them.
Upstairs, Drake found her wearing nothing but a wicked smirk, and she wasn’t alone. A sleek, sinewy vampire, also naked, was sprawled across his king-sized bed. As Drake entered, his mouth turned up in an insolent smile.
“Is this him?” he asked arrogantly. Genevieve, a lover of games, feigned dramatic surprise.
“It is,” she sneered. Drake could sense the excitement radiating off her and the smell of sex hung cloyingly in the air. In the corner of the room lay the body of a woman, naked and very recently dead. Blood oozed from multiple bite wounds all over her body.
“Welcome home.”
Genevieve picked her way across the room like a cat, avoiding items of discarded clothing. Weaving into his arms she kissed him full on the mouth, her eyes glittering with sadistic malice. Drake heaved a weary sigh. He was not in the mood for Genevieve’s games. She cared nothing for the vampire she had just spent the afternoon screwing; it was Drake’s reaction she was interested in. This was her way of getting back at him for neglecting her. She wanted him to fight for her, to display his power and then possess her. And in order to remain in her favour, he would have to do just that.
Guardians of Summerfeld: Full Series: Books 1-4 Page 41
