Guardians of Summerfeld: Full Series: Books 1-4

by Melissa Delport

  “There are easier ways to keep your mind off things,” Lenora remarked. “Probably less painful too. The unicorns are sedated – why don’t you go and pet them instead?” As she spoke, Lucky ran past them, hissing at Jonas and setting his right sneaker alight. Jonas stamped it out and tossed over another piece of meat.

  “He misses her,” he explained, as though justifying the beast’s behaviour.

  “He’s not the only one, apparently.”

  Sensing an ally, Jonas voiced his frustrations. “I can’t believe Quinn took Monique with her. Of all the Guardians at her disposal – why Monique? She could have taken anyone; her father, Daniel, even Drake... it’s not like he wouldn’t go willingly. So why Monique?”

  Lenora understood his frustrations. At face value, Monique was the least obvious choice, but Quinn had explained it to them.

  “You know she’s the only one who can control the dragon,” Lenora reminded gently. “Quinn would never willingly put Monique’s life in danger. Besides,” she added, as Jonas emitted a snort of derision, “I have it on good authority that Monique is fine.” That got his attention. Dropping the bucket of meat, oblivious to the horde of baby dragons as they swarmed over it, he twisted to face her.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I just do,” Lenora replied simply. Now that she had his full attention, she lowered her voice, maintaining eye contact. She put the full force of her compulsion behind her words. “Monique is going to be fine. She’s going to come back. You are going to see her again and you are going to stop worrying about her until you do.”

  Jonas’s eyes glazed over while she spoke and when she was done, the wild, terrified look had faded. Satisfied, Lenora turned toward the door. “I’ll see you later Jonas.”

  “I think I’ll head inside and check on the others,” he said, getting to his feet and following her back to the main house.

  Lenora took her place on the porch swing beside Drake once more and they watched as Jonas walked past, looking as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  “Job well done,” he murmured.

  “I wish it was as easy to set your mind at ease.”

  Drake was saved from replying by Braddon’s return. Braddon said nothing, simply leaning against the peeling wooden balustrade surrounding the porch, his eyes fixed on the floor at his feet. He was close enough that Drake could hear the beating of his heart, faster than usual as his fear for Quinn’s safety grew with each passing hour. Drake was desperate to use his mind link to check in with Quinn, but Lenora had been right. He was too scared that if he invaded her mind in the heat of a battle, it could prove fatal for her. Retreating to his own private thoughts once more he waited, for something, anything that would give him the answers he craved.

  Hours past, but nobody moved or spoke. A few people came by, making polite conversation, but they left shortly, realising that Drake and Braddon wanted to be alone. Lenora gripped Drake’s hand firmly in her own, offering silent support. Braddon seemed rooted to the spot, still staring at something no one else could see. Twice, Avery stepped outside, giving Drake a discreet but pointedly questioning look, but both times he simply shook his head. He had no news to offer her, and, not wanting to alert the others to the bond, she retreated back inside as quickly as she had come.

  And then, after hours of waiting, a surge of pain jolted through him. He knew, instantly, that something had gone terribly wrong and his body arched in agony. Quinn was wounded. His mind filled with the echoes of her pain. He had deliberately stayed out of her head, for fear of distracting her at a crucial moment, but now he opened himself up to her completely, praying that he was wrong.

  “What is it?” Braddon demanded, sensing the change in Drake. The vampire’s expression was terrifying and his eyes were vacant. He didn’t answer Braddon’s question, shaking his head instead from side to side in a gesture of helpless denial.

  “Not now, Braddon,” Lenora warned, letting go of Drake’s hand and stepping between him and the Guardian. “Let him focus.”

  “Focus on what?”

  Drake barely heard their words as his mind took him far from the gentle calm of the porch, traversing miles in a matter of seconds, to a place he wished to God he had never let Quinn go.

  Chapter 16

  Quinn was in a dark room. No windows, no doors, nothing that let in even the tiniest slither of light. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, but they didn’t. She couldn’t see a thing. It was black; pure, solid black. She didn’t like it here and she tried to move, to feel her way around, but it was like walking through wet cement. She had the distinct feeling she wasn’t getting anywhere. It was quiet, too - eerily quiet. Without warning, a pain so terrible she thought she might die struck her in the gut and in the same instant a shaft of light penetrated the darkness. Someone was silhouetted against the pitiful glow, but then the light was gone. The blackness returned and the pain vanished as quickly as it had come.

  When next she became aware, Quinn wasn’t sure how much time had passed. She could hear Drake calling her name, a desolate, desperate chant that echoed over and over in the dark recesses of her mind. She wanted nothing more than to let him know she could hear him but she couldn’t answer. She couldn’t summon the strength to respond, even to the one person in the world she so badly needed.

  Quinn! Quinn!

  The light was back, the pain along with it and Quinn groaned, trying to shut it out. Light equalled pain. As much as she hated the darkness, at least it was better than the agony.

  Quinn! Drake’s voice was ceaseless, and every time she heard it, the light returned. She wanted to tell him to stop, to leave her alone, but she couldn’t.

  “Quinn! Quinn!”

  The words were becoming louder and clearer, but it was no longer Drake’s voice. Quinn’s eyes fluttered again and she saw Liam crouched over her, his head silhouetted by the pale moonlight. It was Liam who was yelling her name, his hands pressed against her stomach. A scream erupted from Quinn’s chest as the darkness faded completely and the full extent of the pain hit her.

  “Hang on!” Liam yelled. “Just hang on, Quinn!” She wished she could go back to the dark room, but her body clung to consciousness. Her survival instinct fought to protect her, knowing that if she passed out again she might never wake up. Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings. She was still lying in the wreckage of Charlotte’s house. When she turned her head to the side, she saw the pile of ash that had been Charlotte. It was too close to her and she tried to wriggle away from it, but the pain speared through her at the slight movement.

  “Stay still!” Liam ordered. “For Eldon’s sake, Quinn, don’t move!” She remembered then, what had happened. She had impaled herself to kill Charlotte. Every movement would twist the splinters of wood that had run her through, causing more internal damage. Suddenly afraid, Quinn tried to keep as still as possible. The dark room which had been so tempting only seconds ago had taken on a new meaning, and the thought of going back there terrified her.

  Drake, she thought wildly. Drake had pulled her back. She tried to reach out to him, but the pain seemed to be blocking the bond; that or she was too precariously close to death and her mind was shutting down. No, she thought to herself, she was not going to die here, not in this Godforsaken place. And certainly not right beside the ashy remains of that bitch! Instead, she tried to focus on her surroundings, to distract herself.

  Quinn bit down another cry of pain. Somewhere in the distance she heard the mighty beating of the Orochian’s wings.

  “She shouldn’t be here,” she mumbled, fearing for Monique’s safety. Liam quieted her fears.

  “They’re all dead,” he told her. “There are no vampires left and dawn is on its way.” He leaned to the right. Quinn felt a wave of relief wash over her but she had no time to enjoy it. She gave a shriek of pain as Liam’s face returned, swimming above her.

  “I’m sorry!” he apologised, holding up a vicious looking spike of w
ood, one that he had just pulled from her arm. She could hear the pounding of footsteps toward them, no doubt Monique who must finally have landed, but she knew she couldn’t hold out a second longer. In her mind, Quinn called to Drake, pleading with him to come, but she heard nothing back and then the blackness descended upon her once more.

  Back at the farm Drake’s inner turmoil was spiralling out of control. The longer Quinn remained silent the more frantic he became and, when Lenora placed a reassuring arm on his shoulder, he lashed out at her, sending her reeling backward into Braddon. Braddon stepped forward, prepared to retaliate, but before he could lay a hand on Drake a yell from the yard distracted him.

  “They did it!” Daniel yelled again, racing toward the house. He had his phone in his hand and a triumphant look blazed across his face. Using the distraction to her advantage, Lenora, who wasn’t hurt, darted forward and crouched before Drake.

  “Don’t blow it,” she murmured, squeezing his hand and Drake snapped out of his trance. Getting to his feet, he pulled her toward him, mortified that he had struck her. “I’m sorry,” he apologised. Braddon’s eyes met Drake’s over Lenora’s shoulder. There was a thoughtful expression on his face and Drake knew it was only a matter of time before he put it all together.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Lenora replied, stepping away from him. “It was hardly your fault.” She brushed her lips across his cheek. “Be strong. Find me when you know more.” With that, she slipped inside the house. Drake hadn’t even noticed that dawn was approaching, the dark sky slightly lighter with the imminent rising of the sun on a brand new day. He had felt Quinn’s mind respond to him, for only a second, before the link had gone dark once more. With no way to get information from the source, he turned expectantly to Daniel, who had skidded to a halt at the bottom of the porch steps.

  “Monique just called,” Daniel explained, trying to catch his breath. “They did it. Quinn did it,” he added, nodding respectfully at Braddon. “Charlotte is dead.”

  Drake reeled, a myriad emotions washing over him. A surge of fierce pride that Quinn had defeated such a mighty opponent, a fleeting pang of regret that he couldn’t have been there when it happened, an infinitesimal pain that the woman he had once loved had left this world, but above all, an overwhelming sense of relief that Charlotte was no longer a threat. She could never use him again, never hurt another innocent soul.

  “And Quinn?” Braddon and Drake both spoke at once and Daniel’s face fell.

  “She’s hurt,” he admitted. “Badly hurt. Liam and Monique are doing what they can.”

  Drake turned away, running his hands through his hair. Hurt, not dead. All the commotion had attracted the others and people were spilling out of the house to hear what had happened, but Drake barely noticed. He reached out again and again, but Quinn didn’t reply. He wanted nothing more than to leave, to run, as fast as he could to where she was, but it would be pointless. It would take days to reach her. He was better off here, with the others, with her family and friends, with the people who would know her fate before he would.

  The sun had only just broken the horizon but sweat streamed down Liam’s face as he worked on Quinn’s body. Don’t you die on me, Quinn, he thought over and over again, although with the extent of her injuries he didn’t know if she could survive. Don’t you dare die on me now!

  “Keep that phone handy,” he told Monique, who was crouched beside him. He removed another splinter, and another, his concentration never slipping.

  “She’s going to die, isn’t she?” Monique’s voice choked on the words as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “I don’t know,” Liam admitted, tossing aside another shard of wood he had pulled from Quinn’s thigh. Only one remained, but it was the most concerning. The spike that protruded from Quinn’s abdomen was thinner than a stake, but it had run her through and Liam had no way of knowing if it had hit any vital organs. Even in the stress of his current situation, Liam had to admire her nerve. What she had done had taken a whole lot of guts. Quinn must have known she might not survive her injuries but she had sacrificed herself to take Charlotte out. In the back of his mind Liam couldn’t help but think that Isaiah would be smiling down on her right now.

  The smaller wounds had started to knit together, but not as quickly as he had hoped and trickles of blood still dribbled from them. Even a normal Guardian would have healed by now, but Liam suspected the main splinter was causing havoc inside her and that all of her healing abilities were being directed to that area. It was probably why she was still alive, but the longer he waited, the more blood she lost. Quinn’s skin was deathly pale, her heart beating feebly under his hands as he worked.

  Grabbing the bottom of Quinn’s black shirt, he ripped it clean in half, right up to her breastbone.

  “Oh my God!” Monique clapped both hands over her mouth as the wound was properly exposed. Just then, Quinn gave a gurgling cough and a fine spray of blood flew from her mouth.

  “Get Daniel back on the phone!” Liam yelled. It came out far more harshly than he intended, but he couldn’t allow Monique to fall apart. “Ask him just how powerful the Slayer’s healing ability is. Once I pull this out it’s going to bleed like hell.”

  Then he gave up on his inner pleading and instead dropped his face low, so that his nose was almost touching Quinn’s. “You’re not dying on my watch,” he growled. “Do you hear me, Quinn. You don’t get to die today!”

  Monique punched the redial button with a shaking hand that was wet with Quinn’s blood.

  “She’s dying,” she whimpered, when Daniel answered on the first ring. “You have to get here...” She trailed off as Quinn gave another death rattle, more blood trickling from her mouth. Liam snatched the phone away, forcing himself to remain calm.

  “There’s a splinter of wood impaled in Quinn’s stomach,” he explained curtly. “It went in through her back and came out through her stomach. She’s lying on her back. I’ve checked underneath her and it’s free of debris. I can pull it out cleanly. There’s not much blood around the wound but, if I pull it out...” he let the question hang, waiting for Daniel to advise him.

  Chapter 17

  Daniel quickly relayed the message. He automatically looked to the Fae for answers, but it was the gypsy, Rowena, who stepped forward.

  “Let me speak to him,” she offered tentatively. Daniel nodded without hesitation, but he hit the speaker button before handing the phone over so that they could all hear what was said. Everyone held their breath, listening intently. Drake had moved away, distancing himself from the crowd, terrified that if this ended badly he would lose control, but he could hear every word perfectly even from a distance.

  “Liam,” Rowena murmured, her dark eyes intent. “The spike is acting as a plug, but you’re right, when you pull it out it’s going to hurt and it’s going to bleed - a lot. Does she have any other injuries?”

  “A few. She landed on a pile of splintered wood. I pulled out a whole bunch already.”

  “Are they bleeding?”

  “Yeah, a bit.”

  “Okay, first I want you to stop that bleeding. Bind the wounds with fabric; anything you have. She’s going to lose a lot more blood and we need to save as much as we can.”

  Liam cast his eyes around, but Monique had finally snapped out of her stupor. Deftly, she ripped off her own T-shirt, tearing it into strips.

  “Hold on,” Liam muttered, cradling the phone between his cheek and shoulder and averting his gaze from Monique’s simple white underwear. Taking one of the strips from her, he quickly moved down to Quinn’s leg, bandaging her thigh as best he could and tying it tightly. Monique did the same to the wounds in Quinn’s arms.

  “Okay, we’ve done it,” Liam quickly informed Rowena.

  “Good; that’s good,” her voice was surprisingly calm. “Now, this is important, do you still have the sword?”

  “Yes.” Liam’s confusion was mirrored by everyone listening in, but Rowena nodded confidently. �
��Okay, you’re going to need to heat the blade. And I mean, heat it. You’re going to use it to cauterise the wound once you pull the spike free. Can you light a fire?”

  “A fire?” Liam blinked, looking around desperately but, before he could stop her, Monique had snatched up the sword and was sprinting away, toward the Orochian.

  “Monique, no!” Liam yelled, dropping the phone and scrambling to his feet as he realised what she intended to do.

  “Stay there!” Monique yelled back. “Get ready to pull it out!” Liam was torn between the two women but it was too late to stop Monique. If he got any closer he might be incinerated. Monique was already muttering to the Orochian, standing just left of his maw, holding the sword out in front of his mouth. Liam heard the hiss that signalled the Orochian’s fire and his chest constricted with empathy at what Monique was about to go through. Monique closed her eyes as the dragon opened his mouth, gripping the sword tightly and placing a hand on his neck to steady herself.

  Watching helplessly Liam could see that the Orochian held back, emitting only a tiny fire breath, but it was still agonising to watch as the flames engulfed the sword and licked toward Monique’s tiny hand. Unable to suppress it, the girl let out a blood-curdling screech as the inferno blazed so close to her flesh that it burnt the skin clean off, exposing patches of angry, raw flesh beneath. When it was over, she stumbled, on the verge of blacking out, but sheer determination forced her to keep going. The dragon howled behind her, a sad, remorseful wail, before he lowered his head to the ground.