“Inside, getting some food,” Braddon replied.
“Did you sleep?”
“A little.”
“Good.”
“How long have you known?” The question caught her unaware. “About him being a daywalker?”
Quinn didn’t reply and her father cursed. “Why are you protecting him? What exactly is going on between you two?”
She flushed under the scrutiny of his gaze. “Nothing, we’re just... he’s helping us.”
“That, I believe,” he said, “it’s the ‘nothing’ part that I’m not convinced by.”
She was saved the embarrassment of responding by Drake’s return. Opening the back door, he took his seat and passed a bag forward to Quinn. The hot fries were not exactly an ideal breakfast, but she crammed a few into her mouth, suddenly starving. Drake passed another bag forward to Braddon, who took it wordlessly and they drove on in silence. Quinn didn’t dare ask Drake if he had eaten, not with her father in the car.
As she had predicted, they reached Glenashley by sundown. It was an obscure little town that showed signs of recent development, as though the twenty-first century had only just caught up with it. Satellite dishes mounted atop thatched roofs looked bizarrely out of place, but Quinn barely noticed, her heart beating frantically in her chest as they drew closer to their destination.
It didn’t take long to find the address that Piper had given them, but there was no one near the payphone. Quinn hadn’t expected Avery to be waiting around it, but now that they were here, she had to consider their options.
“Charlotte’s house,” she began cautiously, “where is it?” Drake sighed as if he had been expecting this.
“That would be a very bad idea,” he pointed out.
“Not really,” she countered. “Charlotte is no doubt still executing Summerfeld’s wards, and if Avery was being held prisoner at her house, which I think it’s safe to assume, given that her call came from this phone, then she managed to escape. Which means that the guards must have left, or, at the very least, be minimal.”
“That’s a lot of assumption.”
“We don’t have much choice,” she reasoned. “We’ve come all this way; we can’t just turn around and go back.”
“We’ll all go,” Braddon broke his long silence.
“No,” Quinn insisted. “You stay here, in case she comes back. She’d know we would come looking for her. She might be checking back here.”
“She wouldn’t stay in the area,” Drake argued, “not with Charlotte’s house so close. Either she got away and is on the run, probably far from here, or...”
“Or she was caught,” Quinn finished his sentence, a flare of panic rising in her chest. “In which case, she’s at Charlotte’s.”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Well then, that’s where we’re going.”
There was no point in Braddon staying behind, though Quinn doubted he would have consented to even if she’d asked. Charlotte’s house wasn’t far from the quiet street they had just left, but it still surprised her to see it, nestled within the peaceful, nondescript little town. The house wasn’t as big as Lenora’s mansion, and Quinn was surprised that someone as narcissistic as Charlotte would live in such an unpretentious residence. The Manor House was stately and bigger than any place Quinn had ever lived in, but it didn’t seem to be fit with what she had heard about Charlotte. She had expected something far more ostentatious.
“It was her parent’s home,” Drake explained, as they approached the house. There would be no guards outside, not with the last of the sun’s rays still shining down on them.
“So is she nostalgic or what?” Quinn asked.
“No, she’s evil. She killed her parents and took over the Manor out of pure spite. It’s all part of her sick, twisted sense of humour.”
“I can’t believe you were with this woman,” Quinn hissed in disgust, forcing back the memories of him standing beside Charlotte and killing Blair to protect her.
“She wasn’t always like this,” he replied enigmatically.
There wasn’t time for any further conversation as Quinn’s Hunter instinct suddenly alerted her to vampires inside the house. She didn’t think there were too many and she let her instinct guide her. It was harder than she thought, because, in channelling her Hunter side, Drake’s presence affected her far more and she had to resist the urge to attack him, focusing instead on the enemy within the house.
Drake seemed to sense her discomfort because he moved away from her as they crept to an open window near the back of the house. As soon as she climbed inside Quinn knew that the vampires were close. She could sense them and she could hunt them. It didn’t take long to find the three vampires, closeted together conveniently in the living-room, watching TV. As they were caught completely unawares, Quinn didn’t even need Drake or her father’s assistance. Within seconds, both of her stakes were bloodied and three greying corpses lay at her feet.
Braddon stood at the door, unmoved by the gruesome scene, but Drake had made himself scarce, giving her time to recover and get her anger under control. Quinn breathed deeply in and out, calming herself. Only once she was fully in control did she emerge from the living-room. Drake was waiting near a door down the hall.
“In here,” he murmured.
They descended the stairs to the basement and Quinn’s eyes widened as they reached the bottom. The basement had been converted into what looked like a medieval torture chamber. There were dark stains on the floor and the smell of blood hung heavily in the air. Disgusted, Quinn leaned against the cold stone wall, wondering what horrific acts had been committed in this room.
Braddon, showing no hesitation, discovered the cells before Drake could even point them out. Grimly, they surveyed one empty cell after another and Quinn knew, without a doubt, that this was where her sister had been held captive. The smell of human faeces and rotten food overwhelmed her and she gagged, choking back the bile that rose in her throat.
Drake had moved further down the dark corridor lit only by a few flickering bulbs that cast a pale glow through the small cells. Toward the end of the narrow passageway, Drake laid a restraining hand on Quinn’s arm, halting her instantly. She swung to face him, a question on her lips, and he nodded, indicating the last cell on the right. Quinn darted forward, her heart pounding.
There were three women huddled together in the confined space. Frantically Quinn ran her gaze over each of them. Thin, malnourished and terrified, none of the pitiful wretches was Avery. The women were covered in their own filth, and, despite her colossal disappointment, Quinn’s heart constricted with empathy for their suffering. As Drake stepped forward to break the lock on the cell door, they cowered against the far wall and he stepped away, the ruined lock in his hand. Quinn was grateful for his thoughtfulness. They wouldn’t know what he was, but perhaps Quinn’s gentler approach might be easier for them to deal with.
Quinn entered the cell, speaking in a low soothing tone, while Drake watched, his eyes narrowed. He had always known Charlotte could be cruel, but this vile, heinous act was beyond even her usual capacity for evil. Human beings were a food source, not toys to be played with and tortured. He could only imagine what these three women had endured at her hand and his heart hardened against her. Charlotte’s sadism knew no bounds. Quinn, on the contrary, was compassionate and kind, and he saw tears reflected in her eyes, shining a dark violet in the dim light, as she helped one of the women to her feet.
“You came back,” the young prisoner gasped, as they moved toward the light. Quinn’s heart lurched in her chest but before she could question her any further, the woman collapsed. Quinn caught her as her knees gave way.
“We’re going to get you out of here,” she murmured gently. “My name is Quinn. This is my father, Braddon, and my friend, Drake. We’re here to help you.”
“Anna,” the young woman croaked pathetically. “That’s Laura, and Jen.” The other two women shuffled out behind her.
&
nbsp; “You’re going to be okay,” Quinn reassured them, “everything is going to be okay.”
The three prisoners were too weak to climb the stairs so Quinn, Braddon and Drake carried them out. Anna’s body was so frail, that Quinn walked carefully, terrified of hurting her. The possibility that their ordeal was finally over, however, was too much for the young girl to bear, and, with a choked whimper that sounded suspiciously like, “my sister” she blacked out.
Chapter 27
Tristan watched as Cara moved through the woods, searching for any sign that Rowena might have left for her or for the other gypsy women. She moved quickly, the daylight making her task much easier than it had been the night before. It went against every instinct to help these people find Rowena. Cara knew better than to believe that her friend would come to no harm if they did find her, but she had little choice. If she didn’t give Charlotte something to go on, she and Zebulon were as good as dead.
Zebulon sat nearby, his hands bound behind his back. His eyes never left Tristan. The Guardian was alert but irritated by having been relegated to babysitting. Zebulon knew there was no way he could overpower Tristan, but he harboured the hope that somehow he and Cara might be able to escape if Tristan let his guard down.
Tristan, oblivious to Zebulon’s dark thoughts, was in a foul mood. His best-laid plans were unravelling and now Charlotte had him traipsing through the countryside on a fool’s errand. He didn’t believe for a second that the Guardians would have taken Balthazar’s group with them. They had taken them in against their better judgement in the first place. They would no doubt have dumped them the second they escaped the City safely. Unfortunately for Tristan, Charlotte would not be convinced until Balthazar was found. It was imperative that they find the Guardians and take care of the wards that they had managed to spirit away, and Cara was Charlotte’s only lead.
Avery’s disappearance also had Tristan frantic with worry and he was certain that Charlotte would punish her terribly if he wasn’t around when she was recaptured. He had last seen Avery just a few short weeks ago and she had certainly looked in no way capable of defending herself. She had been malnourished and exhausted, with her long hair hanging in a lank curtain over her eyes, but even her weakened state hadn’t stopped her from hurling abuse at him. Tristan had been crucified every time he saw the hatred in her beautiful tanzanite eyes, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that one day she would remember none of this.
“I found something!” Cara’s excited cry roused Tristan from his melancholy, and he got to his feet, moving through the trees in the direction of her voice.
“What is it?” he asked dubiously a second later, staring down at what looked like a nondescript pile of pebbles.
“It’s a sign,” she replied confidently. “You see how the smooth edges are aligned and the formation curves in that direction?” She swept her hand along an imaginary line.
“What does it mean?” he grunted, not at all interested in her explanation. A small frown creased Cara’s smooth forehead as she deliberated whether or not to tell him the truth.
“What does it mean, Cara?” he asked again, his tone holding a clear threat.
“North,” she sighed, “we head north.”
They couldn’t take a car as Cara had to be constantly on the lookout for Rowena’s markers, but all three were used to physical toil and they covered a lot of ground. Every now and again Cara would find something but she didn’t bother to explain it, she simply steered them in a new direction. The further they travelled, the more Tristan’s excitement grew, as he realised the path they were taking was off the beaten track, avoiding any human settlements. It made sense that if the Guardians were travelling with the wards this was a route they would have taken.
In the late afternoon Tristan announced that they were to make camp and Cara set about making a fire. Tristan watched her idly for a while, then pulled his phone from his pocket and switched it on to make the call to Charlotte. His battery wouldn’t last long out here and, as soon as he had given her their location, he switched it back off.
“What are you doing?” he asked, as he turned back to find Cara smothering the flames with a heavy blanket.
“I’m making sure the fire doesn’t catch any of this,” she snapped, grabbing a handful of dry leaves and twigs that littered the ground around them. “Unless of course, you want this entire area to go up in flames, in which case I doubt I’ll be able to find any more of Rowena’s signs.”
“It’ll go out if you do that,” Tristan replied.
“Oh really?” she retorted, lifting the blanket and fanning the embers until they blazed once more. As soon as the flames were high enough to be of concern she smothered the fire again. “How many fires have you made in the middle of nowhere?” she taunted. And, when he didn’t reply, “That’s what I thought. Now, why don’t you make yourself useful and go and find me some more wood. Once the blaze is controlled we’ll need something that will burn slowly.” Tristan hesitated and Cara caught Zebulon’s curious glance behind him, but she gave an imperceptible nod of her head. Tristan, deciding not to argue, eventually walked away, and Zebulon opened his mouth to question her, but Cara raised her hand quickly, warning him to stay silent.
Charlotte arrived after nightfall, dropping a small bag near the fire, and, much to Tristan’s disgust, she fed off Cara immediately. The gypsy woman made no move to stop her, but a cold, distant look came over her face, as though she had detached herself from the situation. Zebulon looked away, unable to bear the sight, and, when Charlotte was finished, she smiled lazily at the back of his head.
“Give it a rest,” Tristan muttered, stoking the fire. Despite his reservations, Cara had done an excellent job and the flames flickered merrily in the black night.
“You’re right,” she sighed ruefully. “There’s a time and place for everything, I guess.”
“Have you found Avery yet?” he asked, already knowing the answer. If she had, she would have told him.
“No, but we will.”
“What is Aleksei doing now?”
“He leaves for my house this evening. How far are we from your people?” she asked Cara, who glared hatefully at her.
“How would I know? Rowena left markers, not a scaled map.”
“My my, we are a feisty little thing, aren’t we?” Charlotte raised her brows in mock surprise.
“She’s done well today,” Tristan pointed out.
“You have covered a lot of ground,” Charlotte relented slightly. “Well done.” Cara didn’t respond. She had cleared her face of all expression as she gazed up at the starry sky.
Charlotte got to her feet, kicking the bag toward the fire. “I must go,” she announced. “I can’t sit around here all night making pleasant conversation.” Relieved to see her leaving so soon, Tristan said nothing. “I’ll see you again tomorrow,” Charlotte smiled pleasantly, casting a meaningful look at Cara who turned away, her face flaming. “Remember, if you find them, you wait for me. Do not approach them.” Tristan nodded and, with the faintest rustling of leaves, she left.
Tristan bent wearily and retrieved the bag, finding a few tins of food rattling around in the bottom, beneath a small, frayed blanket that smelled of old dog; Charlotte’s idea of generosity! Opening the tins himself with the opener in his own satchel, he passed them across to Cara to heat in the warm coals she was setting aside. In a gesture of uncharacteristic kindness, he handed her the blanket. It couldn’t possibly smell any worse than the smoke-infested blanket she was currently using to warm her legs. To his surprise, instead of throwing it over her legs, she twisted it into a misshapen scarf and wrapped it around her neck, covering the puncture wounds Charlotte had left there.
“Thank you,” she murmured, so quietly that he wondered if she had really spoken at all, or if his mind was playing tricks on him.
“You’re welcome,” he said, anyway, but she didn’t even look up.
They ate in silence, the tepid soup in no way assu
aging their hunger. An owl hooted in the woods behind them, and Tristan got up to relieve himself. Through the trees, he heard Zebulon’s low voice.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not...” he trailed off, unable to voice his concerns. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel any better about what Charlotte was doing to her. It was a violation of the worst kind. To Tristan’s surprise, Cara’s voice, when it came, was stronger than he expected.
“I told you we should’ve stayed with Rowena!” she hissed; a direct accusation.
“Rowena and Balthazar abandoned the search,” Zebulon replied hotly.
“Balthazar would never abandon the search,” Cara scoffed. “And Rowena has always been one step ahead of the rest of us. She has the sight... she’s always had it, just like Jasmine and every female child in her blood line...” Cara trailed off, as though she had said too much. “We should have stayed with them,” she finished lamely.
Tristan pondered their words as he stood alone in the dark. It sounded as though they had disagreed about remaining with the gypsies when their friends had separated from the group. Zebulon had insisted they stay, although it seemed as though Cara had argued this fact. She had been right, Tristan mused. If they had done as she suggested they wouldn’t be in this mess; they wouldn’t have been with the gypsies when Charlotte tracked them down. He could better understand Zebulon’s grief now. The man knew, without a doubt, that he was responsible for the position they were in. It was his fault his wife was in danger and he was struggling to deal with his guilt. Tristan could understand that feeling only too well.
Chapter 28
Freya walked across the property listening to the wind whistle through the leaves of the trees. Her bow was slung across her shoulder. She had taken to keeping it with her since they had left Summerfeld. She didn’t feel safe without it. So many of her people, the Fae she had known her entire life, were gone. Only sixteen remained. It might as well be none. She shook her head, trying to shake the dark thoughts from her mind. It was enough. They could rebuild their race if they survived this. She had to believe that. Their infertility was linked to the loss of their magic, she was sure of it, and once the Guardians opened the Rose Temple their magic would be restored. With any luck, their fertility would return with it.
Guardians of Summerfeld: Full Series: Books 1-4 Page 71
