Guardians of Summerfeld: Full Series: Books 1-4

by Melissa Delport

  Aleksei kept his eyes fixed on the mountain as, in unison, the rest of the missiles were fired, bringing down his enemies. His satisfaction was short-lived, however. It was soon apparent that his men had underestimated the number of dragons dwelling in Summerfeld, and half a dozen dark forms escaped, unscathed, and rocketed toward where they stood. Helpless, Aleksei watched as the beasts streaked over their heads, fleeing the sanctuary of the mountain. In a blind fury, he turned on Sloane, his fangs fully extended. The incandescent rage on his face was plain to see and Sloane stumbled backwards, offering an apology that he knew would not appease his master. Ruthlessly, Aleksei plunged his hand through the vampire’s flesh, ripping his heart from his chest without any hesitation. In the seconds that followed he laid waste to the soldiers that Sloane had recruited, tearing through flesh and bone as he sated his uncontrollable desire to maim and kill. Vampires fled in every direction, escaping his wrath, and watching from a safe distance.

  When he was done and not a single man lived, Aleksei rose, the powerful muscles in his back and shoulders bulging under the dark fabric of his sweater.

  “Cowards!” he roared, blood and spittle spraying from his lips as he clenched his hands into fists. Dimitri returned first.

  “My Lord,” he bowed low, “Sloane...” he gazed down at the lighter patch of soil, coated in a fine grey ash.

  “Sloane was a traitor.” Aleksei was unapologetic. Tuning on his heel, he walked away, traversing the water’s edge. Silently, the others followed.

  Aleksei was so blinded by rage that at first he didn’t notice the strange marks in the muddy earth. He had walked a full five steps further before he swivelled on the spot, his dark eyes tracking the ground.

  “No!” he hissed, moving faster now, following the smooth trail. It ended at the long grass surrounding the lake, but even here, the grass was flattened slightly. Only a few yards in Aleksei found what he was looking for. A merman lay gasping on the dry grass, his breathing shallow as he clung to life. His golden hair covered his face as he lifted himself up weakly onto his arms and pulled himself forward, leaving another inch of grass flattened before he collapsed to his chest once more. He must have been at this for hours.

  Aleksei feasted on the pitiful sight even as his mind demanded answers. The merman’s tail, silver in the water, had begun to atrophy, a colourless, flaking rot, and the stench of decay was heavy in the air. For a few moments, he lay perfectly still, face down, and Aleksei feared he might have died, but then he spoke.

  “You cannot win.” His voice was hoarse and gravelly, a combination of his origin and the pain he had endured. Aleksei did not respond as the merman rolled over to face him. His onyx eyes were enormous, dominating most of his hideous face. His skin was furrowed, like newspaper that had been wet and left to dry in the baking sun, and a deep hollow had formed in the centre of his chest. The merfolk could breathe out of the water, but their bodies needed to be hydrated frequently and they couldn’t withstand the fierce heat of the sun for extended periods. From the look of him, this merman had spent most of the day exposed. The poison that Aleksei’s minions had dumped into the lake had no doubt weakened him too quickly.

  “I poisoned that lake days ago,” Aleksei spoke without a trace of contrition. “How is it that you survived so long?” To his surprise, the merman smiled, revealing a row of pointed teeth.

  “We all survived, vampire king.” It was an insult, a slur against his name and his family, and Aleksei’s lip curled at the blatant disrespect.

  “That is impossible.”

  A wheezing intake of breath before the merman responded.

  “You will never reach the caves,” he rasped, and Aleksei felt the blood run cold in his veins. A cry of rage built up in his chest, growing by the second. The merman seemed to sense it, and he laughed, a dry, rasping rattle in his chest.

  “Where were you going?” Aleksei demanded. If what he said was true, the merfolk had survived the poison, so why had he risked crossing the contaminated lake to get here.

  “We all survived,” the merman echoed, ignoring the question, and Aleksei knew that he would never answer the question, that he would never surrender.

  “Not all of you,” Aleksei growled, stepping forward.

  Chapter 39

  The small group had slowed to almost a crawl as they approached the place from which the smoke had risen. Drake cocked his head to one side and held up a hand to halt the others. They were close now, very close. He could smell the smoke from the fire and hear the crackling of the kindling as it burned. He could also detect the steady rhythm of heartbeats. What he couldn’t sense were any vampires, which was unsurprising, given that the fading sunlight still filtered through the trees. Peering through a small copse ahead, he spotted a flash of colour against the canopy of green.

  “There,” he mouthed, pointing to the place where Cara sat. Quinn nodded, moving forward, and the other Hunters followed suit, taking cover behind the tree trunks as they got closer and closer to the threat. Finally, when they were only a few yards away, a familiar voice rang out, echoing through the trees around them, louder than expected.

  “I know you’re there, show yourself!”

  Quinn’s blood boiled at the sound of Tristan’s voice. He didn’t sound frightened, only startled, and Quinn could understand why. He had sensed Drake – sensed a vampire nearby, as any Guardian could. Inwardly she cursed their foolishness. She should have insisted Drake stay back until they had investigated properly.

  Tristan waited, hearing nothing in return. He was not afraid, vampires were his allies, but it was impossible for a vampire to be waltzing around in the woods before sundown.

  “Who’s there?” he yelled again, louder this time. In the silence that followed, his suspicion grew. Whoever was out there had definitely heard him, and yet they remained silent. Signalling Cara and Zebulon to stay quiet, he slowly scanned the trees around them. The crunch of a twig behind him alerted him only a second before a cold, furious voice announced, “Why, hello Tristan, fancy meeting you here.”

  Tristan whirled to face Quinn as she approached, his face falling slightly at the sight of the three Hunters behind her. Quinn didn’t hunt with this pack; had not done so previously anyway, but Tristan had watched Blair die and he knew that a replacement would have come forward. Glancing down at Quinn’s wrist, his suspicions were confirmed by the black tattoo. Funnily enough, he wasn’t surprised that it was Quinn who had been chosen. In fact, given her skills, he had often wondered why she hadn’t been branded a Hunter right from the beginning.

  “Quinn,” he smiled brazenly, “always a pleasure, love.”

  Quinn wasn’t fooled as his eyes flickered heavenward, gauging the time before the sun set.

  “Not soon enough,” she taunted. “By the time your friends arrive you will be long gone.”

  Tristan was distracted then, by the arrival of the vampire, Drake. The sight of him, standing out in the open, in the cold light of day, shocked Tristan to his core.

  “How…?” Forgetting his nonchalance, his mouth hung open as his mind tried to process what he knew was impossible.

  “Never mind that,” Quinn snapped, drawing herself up to her full height. She felt a thrill of pride, knowing that the mere sight of Drake terrified Tristan. “What are you doing here?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? I’m looking for you.”

  “She’s coming!” Cara finally broke her long silence realising that salvation was close by.

  “Shut up!” Tristan roared, but Cara spat at him before continuing, in a rush. “Charlotte will be here soon after sunset. She wanted me to bring them to you.”As if realising what she had just said, she added. “I’m sorry – I tried to delay them. I tried to send a warning…”

  “Rowena got your warning,” Quinn interrupted. “That’s why we’re here.”

  “Warning?” Tristan murmured, his eyes scanning the small clearing where they had settled. As his eyes found the fire and then the heavy blanket ne
arby, they narrowed furiously. “You stupid bitch,” he hissed, taking a step toward Cara. In an instant, Drake appeared between them, a low growl emanating from deep in his chest.

  “You will never hurt anyone again,” Quinn announced, drawing his attention back to her.

  “Are you going to kill me, Quinn?” he asked, and then, answering his own question, “of course you’re not. You could never hurt me. I’m your weakness.”

  “Not anymore you’re not,” Quinn countered. “Now you’re just the asshole who kidnapped my sister and murdered my friends.” There was something in her eyes, a glacial, unforgiving glint that sent a shiver down Tristan’s spine. He glanced back at the tattoo on her wrist, before his eyes found hers again, unyielding, brutal, determined. And finally he realised that she would kill him. The others stood around her, not saying a word, but Tristan saw the anger reflected on all of their faces; a cold fury at what he had done. Dropping all traces of arrogance, Tristan tried to explain himself.

  “You don’t understand,” he stammered. “I had to do it. Charlotte threatened me; she forced me to help her. I never meant to hurt Avery – I love her! I do,” he added defiantly as Quinn barked out a scornful laugh. “She means everything to me! I did all of this for her... and Jack and Ava,” he added, appealing to Quinn’s love for the children. “So that we could be together; so that we could be a family. I know you would have wanted the same,” he insisted.

  “You are insane,” Quinn murmured, her voice fatally gentle. “Do you honestly believe that there is anything you can say that will excuse the slaughter of hundreds of innocents? The extinction of entire species?”

  “I…” Tristan’s eyes darted frantically back and forth as he finally accepted that no help was coming, that he would not be able to talk his way out of this and he would probably die, right here in this clearing. “Avery’s alive!” he yelled, snatching at the one thing that might save him.

  His stomach dropped, as, instead of relief, something close to satisfaction pulled at the corner of Quinn’s lips. She knew, he realised. And if she knew, that meant…

  “You have her,” he whispered. Quinn opened her mouth to retort, but instead, a different person answered his question; one who sounded just like her.

  “Disappointed, darling?”

  All eyes turned to watch as Avery stepped out from behind a gnarled, dying elm tree. She was pale and dark shadows hung beneath her eyes, but a quiet strength radiated from her. She looked part-angel, part-demon and Quinn was terrified. Avery’s hacked hair hung in a matt, limp curtain and she had lost so much weight that her cheekbones were angular in her face, making her look almost inhuman. Quinn was so stunned that her sister had managed to make it all this way on her own, that for a moment she was too shocked to speak. Tristan, however, had no such reserve.

  “Avery,” he pleaded, taking a hesitant step toward her. And that’s when Quinn saw it; the desperate, frantic adoration in his eyes. Tristan did love Avery, in his own sick way - an obsessive, insane, deeply disturbing way. Quinn almost pitied him as she watched the pathetic way he gazed upon her sister. “You have to understand,” Tristan continued, his voice breaking, “everything I did… everything that’s happened, it was all…”

  “For me?” Avery crooned, walking slowly toward him. Her collar bones jutted out though the thin cotton of her shirt and she had one hand in the pocket of her jeans, the other behind her back. Quinn narrowed her eyes, knowing she was missing something, but not able to put her finger on it.

  “Yes,” Tristan breathed earnestly, stumbling toward Avery, desperate for her forgiveness. “For you. And Jack and Ava.” With each passing second they drew closer together and Quinn recoiled, as she finally spotted the flash of silver clasped in her sister’s hand.

  “Avery don’t!” Quinn yelled, and Avery turned to her in surprise. “Don’t,” Quinn shook her head, wondering how far gone her sister really was. “If you kill him, a new Guardian will emerge to take his place,” she spoke in a soft, soothing tone, as though she was explaining to a child. “That Guardian will report to Summerfeld. The City is swarming with vampires. I know you want revenge for everything that was done to you, but this is not the way.”

  Tristan’s eyes widened as he realised what Quinn was saying and he stumbled backwards, his eyes wide as Avery slowly withdrew the stake she had hidden behind her back.

  “You wouldn’t…” he shook his head in denial. Daniel stepped quickly between him and Avery as Quinn shook her head sadly.

  “She would,” she told Tristan, with no compassion in her voice. “This is what you have done, in the name of love of your family.”

  Chapter 40

  Isaiah heard them approaching before anyone else and he jogged over to meet them as they approached. His eyes widened at the sight of Tristan, but there was no time for explanations. The sun had set a few minutes before.

  “They’ll be here soon. Charlotte will track their scent,’ Drake gestured at the two weary gypsies. Cara’s arm was still bleeding through the strip of cloth she had bound tightly around it, but even without the scent of blood, the gypsies had obviously not bathed in days. It wouldn’t take long for Charlotte to track their scent, given how fresh it was.

  “Take them into the stables,” Isaiah instructed. “The others are all in there.” Liam and Garrett hesitated. They were holding a pale-faced Tristan between them. He didn’t resist. His face was blank as though he had completely withdrawn into himself.

  “Tie him up,” Daniel barked, and the two Guardians led Tristan toward the stables just as Rowena emerged. Giving a cry of relief, she flew to Cara’s side, embracing the woman tightly. Balthazar followed closely behind her.

  “I’m sorry,” Cara murmured, over and over again. Her face glistened with tears of shame, but Rowena brushed them away, chiding softly.

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Actually, it is her fault,” Quinn interrupted. “She led them here.”

  Rowena bristled, but stood her ground. She and Quinn had always enjoyed a mutual respect for one another, but she would not allow Quinn to make Cara feel any worse about herself than she so obviously already did.

  “Well if she did, she had no choice,” Rowena retorted, adding, as Quinn opened her mouth to argue, “and besides, I see your Guardian friend is here too. So before we start allocating blame, let’s keep in mind that we have all made mistakes.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Tristan is being restrained, not comforted!” Quinn snapped, stepping forward. Isaiah grabbed her arm as Balthazar waved Rowena inside, both trying to diffuse the situation.

  “Let it go, Quinn,” Isaiah instructed, slowly increasing the pressure on her arm until she snapped out of her rage. “I know you’re worried,” he continued, dropping her arm, “we all are. But we can’t change what’s done. How they found us isn’t important. What matters is what we are going to do about it.”

  Quinn nodded. He was right, as always. She felt a moment of guilt for losing her temper with Rowena, but was distracted by the sight of her sister beside them. Avery had not uttered a word since they had left the campsite, but now Quinn grabbed her shoulders.

  “You’re in no state to fight,” she told her. “Go and join the others inside.” Avery didn’t argue.

  “She’s not done yet,” Drake warned, watching her go.

  “She’ll be fine,” Quinn insisted, and a second later, Braddon joined them.

  “Balthazar, I need you to go back inside and watch Avery,” Quinn said. “Make sure she doesn’t harm Tristan.”

  “I want to help,” Balthazar insisted.

  “This is helping. If Tristan dies, his replacement will walk right into a trap. You want to help the Guardians? This is how you can do it.”

  Grimly, Balthazar nodded. “What about Jonas?”

  “I’ll fetch him.” Isaiah offered. A moment later he had crossed the lawn. “Jonas, I need you inside, now. Monique, give that beast what he wants. I need you in the air.” The Oroch
ian was one of their best defensive weapons. Monique squeezed Jonas’s hand quickly, before vaulting onto the Orochian’s back, and, needing no further invitation, he shot skywards.

  “Cara said that Charlotte was checking in every night, alone,” Quinn explained when Isaiah returned. “With any luck she won’t have reinforcements.”

  “Don’t be fooled,” Drake cautioned. “Charlotte isn’t stupid. She’ll have people standing by.”

  “It’s going to be a long night,” Isaiah murmured, drawing his sword, as together they stood and waited, staring out into the night.

  For almost two hours nothing moved, save for the leaves of the trees as a slight breeze blew through the grounds. Shadows darted across the ground, taunting them, but nobody spoke a word. And then suddenly, one of the shadows separated from the others, growing longer and more defined as a figure stepped onto the grass ahead of them, and Quinn’s stomach contracted. More vampires followed Charlotte as she moved gracefully toward them. Quinn tried to count but soon lost track and gave up. There were nowhere near as many as had attacked the City, but it was a formidable number, nonetheless.

  “Here.” Quinn handed Drake two of the stakes from her belt and then withdrew another two for herself. Meeting his eye, she gave him a ghost of a smile. “I’m glad you’re on our side,” she murmured.

  “Remember that tomorrow when we’re finished here,” he teased, but his answering smile didn’t reach his eyes. He had a sickening fear that something terrible was about to happen.