Guardians of Summerfeld: Full Series: Books 1-4

by Melissa Delport

  “Rowena handled the fairs,” Cara, retorted disdainfully. “Without her we cannot negotiate with the locals.”

  “We are out of money, Melchior,” Zebulon returned to the attack. “Soon we will be out of liquor, too, and then, perhaps, you will feel the hardship as we do.”

  Melchior let out a harsh, strangled laugh. “If you think you can do a better job leading us, be my guest,” he sneered. “Better still, why not let your whore take charge, as she so obviously owns your balls. No woman of mine would ever speak out against a man as she does.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” a feminine voice called, and they all swivelled in the direction of the stranger’s voice. At first they could see nothing through the gloom, but then a woman appeared, walking slowly toward them. She was dressed in the tightest black leather pants, and her top was low cut, showing off an impressive cleavage for someone so young. Her frame seemed too slight to carry the heavy tresses of dark hair braided over one shoulder. Melchior felt his lust stirring at the sight of such a woman. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on, but there was something deadly in the curve of her smile. “Why don’t I take charge?” the brazen beauty simpered sweetly, her eyes meeting Melchior’s.

  “Who are you?” he demanded, getting clumsily to his feet.

  “My name is Charlotte,” she replied, coming to stand before him. “And I am looking for someone. Where is Jonas?”

  “If it’s a man you’re after, I think you should aim slightly higher than a boy,” Melchior replied suggestively, tucking his beefy hands into his belt and jutting out his hips. Charlotte eyed his filthy pants disdainfully, her lip curling. Grabbing his head between her hands, she twisted his neck brutally, hearing the snap of bone before dropping his body to the ground. With shrieks of terror, the gypsies around the fire scattered, fleeing in all directions.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Charlotte murmured evilly, and, like shadows, the vampires surrounding the camp stopped them in their tracks, killing most, but leaving a few alive to answer her questions.

  “Now,” she continued calmly when those who remained were forced to kneel before her. “As I mentioned, I’m looking for a gypsy boy named Jonas. Tell me where he is, and you live. Don’t, and... well, you get the picture.” She placed a booted heel on Melchior’s back.

  “He’s not here,” Zebulon answered. “He ran away a few weeks back. We left his father and two of our women back in a town called New Haven to look for him. We haven’t seen them since.”

  Tristan had already informed Charlotte of this so she knew he was telling the truth. If they hadn’t returned to their camp after the City had fallen, then it stood to reason they were with the Guardians who had escaped.

  “What is your name?” she asked.

  “Zebulon.”

  “Could you find them, Zebulon?” The gypsies were nomads, travelling extensively across the globe, but surely they must have a means to find one another if they were ever separated.

  “I can tell you where they were camped in New Haven,” he offered hopefully.

  “They are no longer at their camp in the woods. If they were, I wouldn’t be here,” she added obviously. “And unless you can find them, you are of no use to me.”

  Zebulon hesitated, torn between telling a lie to save their lives, and knowing that there was no way he would be able to find Balthazar if he and Rowena had left their previous camp site. His pause was all the answer Charlotte needed.

  “You can’t,” she sighed wearily, “how unfortunate.” Stepping toward Zebulon, she extended her fangs.

  “Wait!” the woman on his right scrambled to her feet. “I might be able to find them.”

  “Cara!” Zebulon warned, fearing she might try and lie outright to this monster, but Cara held Charlotte’s gaze steadily.

  “How?” Charlotte demanded.

  “Rowena,” Cara explained, turning apologetically to her husband. “Rowena would’ve known some of the women might try to find her. She may have left clues.” Bravely, she issued an ultimatum. “Let the others go, and I will help you, if I can.”

  Charlotte considered this. “Fine. Bring him along,” she pointed at Zebulon. It was obvious that the two were in love, and nobody did anything without motive. “Just in case she needs a bit of incentive.”

  “No!” Cara screamed, kicking out at the men who seized her shoulders. “No! Leave him alone!” Ignoring her cries, another pair of rough hands grabbed Zebulon.

  As her henchmen led Zebulon and Cara away, Charlotte watched the other gypsies flee without so much as a backward glance or a moment’s thought for the brave woman who had just saved their lives.

  “As soon as we’re gone, kill them all,” she murmured cruelly.

  Chapter 18

  Back at their new base of operations, Isaiah found Braddon alone in the library. He sat perfectly still in a comfortable armchair, gazing unseeingly out of the window. Braddon had been subdued ever since Quinn had left the day before to retrieve Blair’s crystal.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Isaiah broke the silence.

  “I don’t think they’re worth that much,” Braddon sighed. “I keep trying to come up with a plan - something we haven’t considered – but it’s hopeless. I fear we may be doing the wards an injustice by simply sitting here waiting to be found.” It was a mark of the Guardians’ quiet strength that they had not mourned the City’s loss. The Fae, the wolves, and even, to an extent, the herd, were struggling to recover, their desolation glaringly obvious. The Guardians did not have that luxury. Losing Summerfeld had devastated them, but, being who they were, they could not afford to grieve. They had to pick themselves up and move forward, always in the best interests of those precious few who remained. The wards came first.

  “We are doing the best we can,” Isaiah corrected gently. “And if there is one thing I have learned in all these years, it’s that nothing is ever hopeless. We have the Hawkstone, after all these years, and that, in itself, is a sign. Finally, we can open the temple.”

  “Yes, but we are still missing two crystals. Three, if Quinn fails.”

  “Quinn never fails.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Braddon agreed, with a fierce pride.

  “Have you heard from her?”

  “No,” Braddon shook his head. “And she’s left her phone behind.”

  Isaiah could see the worry etched on his brow. In truth, it surprised him, too, that Quinn would be so careless. “She has a lot on her mind,” he offered feebly.

  “We all have a lot on our minds,” Braddon countered. He always reacted defensively when he felt helpless.

  “She will be fine,” Isaiah soothed. “She said herself the crystal wasn’t too far away. A couple of days round trip, at the most. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”

  “I worry about her,” Braddon admitted.

  “I would expect nothing less. She’s your daughter.”

  “She’s reckless.”

  “I won’t argue with that,” Isaiah smiled, “it seems the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree. You forget, I knew you before your daughters were born, Braddon,” he added, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Braddon had been just as impulsive as Quinn, if not more so, but when she and Avery were born, he had become far more responsible. Having children of his own had forced him to grow up.

  “I tried to set a good example.”

  “You are an impeccable Guardian, Braddon,” Isaiah agreed, and then, coming to a decision, he took a seat opposite his old friend. “Forgive me, but there is something I must tell you.” It was time for Braddon to learn the truth. Tristan had been exposed as the traitor and it was no longer necessary to keep the others in the dark.

  Braddon listened, horror-struck, as Isaiah told him about the circumstances surrounding Avery’s death, unable to speak as his emotions overwhelmed him.

  “Quinn knows this?” he asked eventually, when Isaiah was finished.

  “Yes. She’s known for some time.”
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  Braddon’s eyes filled with tears and he pressed his fingers into them, trying to stem the flow. “Werewolves?” he choked out eventually. “You’re certain?”

  “I performed the autopsy myself. I am truly sorry I didn’t ask your permission, but Quinn asked me to keep it between us. Then, when we learned of the traitor, we weren’t sure who we could trust.”

  “You suspected it might be me?” Braddon’s shock was expected. “Quinn thought I might be the traitor?”

  “We didn’t know who it was. But to be fair, she didn’t want to consider it might be you.”

  “I found Caleb,” Braddon intoned hollowly. “I brought that bastard into Summerfeld and he might have killed my daughter.”

  “The vampires planted Caleb where they knew you would find him. You couldn’t have known.”

  “I defended him! I defended that son of a bitch! When Quinn wanted him punished, I told her to stay out of it.”

  “As we all did,” Isaiah pointed out. “Werewolves are to be protected – that is our duty. Besides, Caleb has been punished. Quinn killed him, remember?” Braddon finally gave way to the tears, dropping his head into his hands.

  “We will find the people responsible for Avery’s death,” Isaiah promised. “And Quinn will be fine. She’s much stronger than you give her credit for.”

  “It’s not that,” Braddon lifted his head. “I just couldn’t be prouder.”

  Knowing that there was nothing more he could say to ease Braddon’s troubled mind, Isaiah left him. As always, he seemed to be drawn to Lenora and he found her in the kitchen, overseeing lunch preparations.

  “No, Hilda,” she shrieked, as a portly old woman in an apron laboured over a steaming pot. “You don’t add the cream until the very end!” Catching sight of Isaiah, Lenora smiled.

  “It smells fine to me,” he commented wryly. “Besides, how would you know? You don’t eat this stuff.”

  “I’ll have you know I’m a remarkable cook. It’s one of my many talents. I’m glad you’re here,” she added, tossing a tea towel onto the kitchen counter and linking her arm through his. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” There was no denying the nervous tremor in her voice.

  “What is it?”

  “Now don’t be cross,” she began as they walked toward the living-room, “but I sent Drake to accompany Quinn on her trip.” Isaiah jerked his arm out of hers.

  “You what?” he snapped. “Lenora, she doesn’t need the distraction right now! You know how hard it is for her to stay away from him... how could you?”

  “She shouldn’t have gone out alone in the first place,” she replied hotly, “and he has a right to try and make amends.”

  Isaiah wasn’t convinced. “He’s already betrayed her once, how do you know we can trust him?”

  “Because I know him,” Lenora responded confidently. “He’s a good man, one of the best. And because he loves her.”

  It was nothing less than Isaiah suspected. He wanted Quinn to be happy, but first they needed to open the Rose Gate and release Eldon’s heir from the temple. They needed the Fae magic, now, more than ever. Daniel had made it clear that Drake was an enemy and, while Isaiah didn’t necessarily agree with him, he thought Quinn’s decision to send him away, at least until this was all over, was prudent.

  “You know she cares for him, too,” Lenora continued when he didn’t respond.

  “I know,” Isaiah nodded. “But the others will not be swayed. With the Guardianship in such a fragile state we cannot afford any discord among us.”

  “And you, Isaiah? Are you keeping me at arm’s length for the same reason?” she asked boldly.

  His silence spoke volumes. “In case you haven’t noticed, we are your people,” she snapped. “Drake and I may not wear that mark that you are so proud of, but we’re here, trying to help you.”

  “I know that, and I know that it’s not without great risk. Surely you know how much I appreciate everything you are doing for...”

  “I don’t want your appreciation,” she cut him off abruptly. “That’s the last thing I want from you. And, until you realise that, or man up enough to give me what I do want, perhaps we should just stay out of each other’s way.”

  They gazed at each other, the passion between them so intensely private that neither noticed the red-headed girl passing by.

  “I’ll get out of your way,” Isaiah murmured eventually. Lenora steeled herself not to call out to him as he turned his back to her. He walked away slowly, as though hoping she would.

  Chapter 19

  Monique blushed as she scuttled passed the kitchen, embarrassed to have witnessed such an intimate moment between her mentor and their host. She had been on her way to collect the duck livers for the Chumana hatchlings, but now she hovered a short way down the hall, uncertain of whether to go in or not. Fortunately, a moment later, Isaiah appeared. He didn’t seem to notice Monique cowering in embarrassment, and she heaved a sigh as he headed in the opposite direction, reflecting that, for such a controlled group of people, the Guardians really didn’t seem to have much control over who they fell in love with. Isaiah was obviously smitten with Lenora, and Monique, who was incredibly perceptive, had not missed the underlying tension between Quinn and the vampire, Drake. And then there was Monique herself. She had never even had a boyfriend before, and yet, a few short months into her Guardianship, she was dating a gypsy boy.

  Monique jumped at the sound of Lenora’s voice. “You can come in now,” she called, and in the absence of anyone else in the vicinity, Monique figured it was addressed to her. Smiling apologetically, she slunk into the kitchen.

  “Something smells good,” she said.

  “Here,” Lenora handed her a plastic bucket, laden with raw liver. She was in an uncharacteristically dour mood. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” she added more gently, catching sight of Monique’s crestfallen face.

  “I can’t wait,” Monique replied politely, before making a run for it.

  As she fed Lucky and the other Chumana babies a feast of raw liver, she recalled her earlier conversation with Jonas. It had pricked her conscience that he was envious of her relationship with Velkan. Velkan was a kind, compassionate faery, but her interest in him went no further than their shared love of the wards. Technically, Velkan was one of the wards, and so her affection extended to him too. She cared deeply for him, but it pained her to learn that he had feelings for her and Monique figured the best way to resolve the problem was to find Velkan a new love interest. He had been so sad since Mairin’s death and Monique figured he missed having the constant companionship she had provided. Monique had noticed the painfully shy gypsy girl, Cosima, who seemed to be struggling to find her feet in this new motley community, and Monique thought her plan to bring them together was a brilliant one.

  Washing her hands, she left Lucky and the other hatchlings. Balthazar had helped the Fae erect metal sheeting, inside the enormous barn that housed them, to protect the flammable wood and she smiled fondly at the scorch marks along the bottom. Lucky whined as she closed the door, scratching against it like an overlarge puppy. The other hatchlings had not imprinted on her as Lucky had, so they didn’t mourn her departure quite as dramatically.

  Crossing the immaculate lawn, Monique spotted the Orochian sleeping near the front of the house. Keeping him close was proving the most difficult part of being here. Monique was riding him twice a day, guiding him away from the nearest town and toward the Alps that loomed south of Lenora’s property, but even so he would take off on his own every now and then. He wouldn’t eat anything offered to him, but the day before, the mutilated remains of a mountain deer had been discovered in the enormous swimming pool. Lenora’s pool man had been apoplectic with rage.

  Determined to put her plan in motion sooner rather than later, Monique went in search of Cosima. The girl rarely left her room, and, as expected, she heard her timid reply when she rapped on the door.

  “Hi,” Monique shut the
door behind her as Cosima eyed her warily. “I’m sorry to interrupt...” she eyed the completely empty bedroom, “whatever it is you were doing,” she finished lamely.

  “Is Rowena looking for me?” Cosima sounded nervous. Rowena had, only this morning, taken her to task for being so antisocial, and for not contributing to the day-to-day chores. The older woman felt it was the least they could do in return for their board and lodging, but Cosima was painfully shy and the thought of striking up conversation with the various inhabitants of the house was terrifying. The vampires scared her half to death and she found the Guardians intimidating.

  “No,” Monique shook her head and Cosima exhaled a sigh of relief which was swiftly replaced by suspicion when Monique spoke again. “I actually wondered if you’d like to help me exercise the unicorns this afternoon.”

  Rowena must have said something, was Cosima’s first logical thought. There was no other explanation for why Monique would suddenly enlist her services, and so, mindful of offending her mentor, Cosima reluctantly agreed.

  Half an hour later she realised just how wrong she had been and was dying of mortification. Monique had slyly introduced her to Velkan, a faery that Cosima had only ever seen once or twice before and whom she now hoped she would never lay eyes on again. Subtlety was not Monique’s strong suit and it was abundantly clear to both of the unwilling victims of her good intentions what she was actually up to. Oblivious of their mutual discomfort, Monique urged Velkan to show Cosima the correct way to sit, and how best to guide the unicorns where she wanted them to go. Obligingly, he obeyed, but, as he caught Cosima’s eye and saw his own embarrassment reflected in her gaze, he smiled reassuringly.

  “Isn’t she lovely?” Monique asked after Cosima had finally excused herself. She had torn back toward the house, desperate to get indoors and as far away from Monique and Velkan as she could.

  “Please don’t ever do that again,” came Velkan’s curt reply. Monique was taken aback at the irritation in his voice. Like all of the Fae, Velkan was never in a temper but Monique had pushed him to the brink of his good-nature. “I don’t need you to play match-maker, Monique,” he continued, leading Etana back to her stable.