The Cathedral of Cliffdale

by Melissa Delport

  Finding nothing edible in the entire house, not even instant coffee, she gritted her teeth. Alice obviously brought her own lunch as she was only here once a week. Quinn fetched her purse from the duffel bag and marched out of the front door.

  Absent-mindedly, she tossed a few cereal boxes on top of the already fully-laden trolley before she pulled herself up short. Only the twins ate cereal – she didn’t touch the stuff. She retraced her steps and put the boxes back, eliciting a few inquisitive looks in her direction. Brookfield is a small town she reminded herself; people are naturally curious. Smiling politely, she finished her shopping and drove home without really appreciating the tranquil beauty of the sleepy little town. She did notice a small pub called Phil’s Place just a block away from her house, the sign outside claiming they made the best pizzas in town. Not hard, Quinn mused, thinking it was probably the only pizzeria in Brookfield. As she pulled into the drive she noticed the garden next door. She would have to have been blind not to. Every inch was covered in flowers, the most beautiful splash of colour Quinn had ever seen.

  Having put away the groceries Quinn was scouring the internet for any Guardian-related news which she would recognise, even if ordinary humans wouldn’t, when the doorbell rang. Cursing, she pushed back her chair and headed into the kitchen, closing the hidden door behind her. To her surprise, a young woman in her early twenties stood on her doorstep, a small posy of wildflowers clutched in her hand.

  “Can I help you?” Quinn asked, rather harshly.

  “I’m sorry,” the stranger replied, “I’m Sarah Tate – I’m your neighbour – I live next door,” her hand fluttered feebly towards the house next door. Quinn glanced across to see the sweet cottage surrounded by flowers. “These are for you,” the young woman added, thrusting the colourful bouquet into Quinn’s hands.

  “Thank you,” Quinn replied stiltedly, and then, her curiosity getting the better of her: “Do you live on your own?” Sarah nodded, her blonde ponytail bouncing behind her.

  “Aren’t you a bit young to be living by yourself?” This earned Quinn a strange look, which, in retrospect, she should have expected. Being a Guardian, Quinn didn’t age – she still looked twenty-one, although she had almost a hundred years on Sarah. “I’m sorry, that was rude,” she quickly composed herself. “It’s just that we are – both – quite young to be staying alone. My parents are dead,” she smiled, “what’s your excuse?”

  “My parents are alive and well,” Sarah replied shyly, her walnut brown eyes finding the floor, “but my boyfriend lives here in Brookfield. We met the year after high school when we were both travelling through Europe. When we returned I decided I’d rather stay here, with him. He works for the Town Council now.”

  “What do you do?” Quinn couldn’t figure out how someone so young could afford to live on her own.

  “I’m a kindergarten teacher. My parents help me out, financially, obviously – they like Todd,” she added, by way of explanation.

  “Your garden is beautiful,” Quinn changed the subject abruptly.

  “Thank you.” An awkward silence followed.

  “Well, Sarah, it’s really good to meet you, but I’m kind of in the middle of something – it’s a work thing.”

  “Um... yeah, sure, sorry. I just thought... well, the house has been empty for almost a year and then I saw the car in the drive this morning and I thought...” Her curiosity was blatantly obvious and Quinn needed to stop any further questioning.

  “I’m a freelance writer; I can work anywhere. My mother left me some money and I bought the house a year ago. I just felt like I needed to get out of the city for a bit, you know – take a break, get the creative juices flowing.”

  Unfortunately Sarah was not as naive as she appeared.

  “Which publications do you write for?”

  “None that you would have heard of,” Quinn replied curtly and Sarah visibly recoiled. Nodding her head again she turned towards the porch steps.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Thank you for the flowers,” Quinn replied, feeling slightly guilty, but Sarah didn’t answer.

  Refusing to let it bother her, Quinn went back inside. She slumped down heavily on the sofa trying to plan her next move. The Guardians would be searching for her, of that there was no doubt, but even with Piper’s technological prowess, she was certain they would not find her in a hurry. A stab of guilt pricked painfully at her conscience when she thought of her friend, and with it, a deep-seated shame that she had abandoned the wards she had sworn to protect. Quinn had not turned her back on Summerfeld’s inhabitants without great personal sacrifice. She loved them with her whole heart and she believed in the Guardianship, but she had vowed to protect Avery’s children, and as long as Avery’s memory was alive in her, she would honour that vow. The wards had ten exceptional Guardians to protect them, whereas Jack and Ava had no-one. She had made her choice and she would see it through. Just thinking about the City weakened her resolve and a wave of sorrow washed over her, as memories flooded, unbidden, through her troubled mind.

  “That’s the second time you’ve landed on your ass,” Quinn grinned, offering Avery a hand up.

  “You cheated.” Avery was laughing.

  “No,” Quinn corrected, with all the arrogance of her immature youth, “I’m just better.”

  “It’s not a competition, Quinn,” Isaiah reminded her, but his grey eyes sparkled with amusement. Quinn had once overheard Isaiah telling Daniel that he had never trained two more enthusiastic Guardians; that their dedication and passion was infectious. Quinn, in particular, he had murmured meaningfully, applied herself more than any Guardian before her. Quinn hadn’t told Avery that part. She put it down to the fact that he had found her, so many nights, fast asleep at the table, the Sacred Book open before her. She could not absorb enough of their history and she knew the prophecies by heart.

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Quinn teased, getting back into a fighting stance. “We both know you and Daniel are itching to go head to head.” Using Quinn’s distraction to her advantage, Avery struck out, kicking Quinn’s legs out beneath her, and Quinn crashed to the ground as Avery did a victory dance around the training room.

  “Who’s cheating now?” Quinn muttered, red-faced.

  “Okay, enough you two,” Isaiah reprimanded, having given them enough play time. Instantly their smiles vanished. As comical as they were, both girls were deadly serious about their training, and they respected Isaiah, even more than the formidable Daniel, who would never allow such clowning around.

  Quinn opened her eyes, the memory fading. A part of her wanted to hold on to it, to hold on to Avery’s face, the sound of her laughter, but she couldn’t snatch it back. The memory, however, had ignited her determination to protect the children. The wards would be fine without her. Jack and Ava would not.

  Chapter 4

  “What news, Braddon?” Daniel arched his brow. The entire Guardian council had come together for this meeting and Daniel did not want any delays. As a Hunter, he spent very little time in Summerfeld. Along with the other Hunters, Liam, Garrett and Blair, he travelled far and wide searching for vampires and destroying them. It was his purpose.

  “Where are Jack and Ava now?” Braddon countered boldly, a blazing look in his tanzanite eyes. Daniel could see what Quinn could not; that despite what his daughter thought, the twins were Braddon’s grandchildren and he took their safety very seriously. Further down the long table, Tristan Ormonde’s blue eyes watched like a hawk, taking everything in but giving away nothing. The two chairs beside him were empty – Avery and Quinn’s places – and the obvious gap made everyone uncomfortable.

  “They are safe; they are with Lucas, outside of Summerfeld, as we promised,” Daniel conceded. Lucas was an experienced Guardian and the children were in good hands. “Now, what news?”

  “Quinn will not return?” Braddon shook his head. This was not the first time his headstrong
daughter had embarrassed him. Daniel opened his mouth to voice his disappointment, but Isaiah beat him to it.

  “She will.” All eyes turned deferentially to the second of the original Guardians. “The blood of the ten runs in her veins,” Isaiah continued calmly. “It will call to her. She can only fight it for so long. You need to let her be, Daniel,” he faced his companion. “We are not at war with one another.”

  “This is not how it works, Isaiah,” Daniel thundered, his legendary temper barely under control.

  “Things have changed,” Isaiah explained simply, “the world is different now. We cannot cling to the old ways if it serves no purpose. Quinn has suffered a great loss.”

  “As have I!” Braddon interrupted. “Avery was my daughter! She was Tristan’s wife!” At this, Tristan’s lips pressed together in a grim line.

  “You manage your grief better... you both do,” Isaiah nodded at Braddon and Tristan respectively. “However, this does not make Quinn weaker or any less valuable. She will come back when she is ready.”

  “We do not have time to waste!” Daniel was relentless. “Without Avery’s replacement the Guardians number eleven. Never in a thousand years has this happened, not to mention the loss of Avery’s crystal. The last time a crystal was taken, a Slayer emerged.”

  “You do not need to remind me,” Isaiah replied pointedly, “but in that instance the crystal had fallen into the wrong hands. Let us hope that, for now, at least, the crystal is safe.”

  “I hope that is the case,” Daniel acknowledged, calmed by Isaiah’s words. He turned to address Tristan directly. “Are you sure you’re not forgetting something? Even the tiniest detail could be the key to finding it.”

  “No,” Tristan shook his head forlornly. “Avery never told me anything.” His disappointment was palpable.

  “Then only Avery’s successor can find it,” Isaiah spoke. In the same way that all new Guardians instinctively know to report to the Cliffdale Cathedral, they would also be led to the location of the crystal that passed into their possession at the moment of the death of the previous owner. If Avery’s successor never came forward, the crystal could well be lost forever.

  “We can search her house again,” Blair offered. Blair, a Hunter, like Daniel, was an aggressive, assertive member of the council.

  “We scoured the house from top to bottom,” Piper reminded, “it’s not there.” Isaiah smiled at the sweetest Guardian who happened to be one of Quinn’s closest friends.

  “I believe that Avery did not hide the crystal at her house or you would have found it,” he assured her.

  “What happens if we don’t find it?” Blair asked, deferring to Daniel, who, as leader of the Hunters, was the only person from whom she took orders.

  “That is not an option,” he replied grimly, “we must find it, if for no reason other than to ensure that it hasn’t fallen into our enemies' hands. I do not need to remind you what will happen if the crystals are united.” An ominous atmosphere settled over every Guardian at the table as they considered this.

  “There has to be something we can do,” Liam broke the morbid silence. “I knew Avery – she was committed and she erred on the side of caution. She would have left a clue – something to lead us to the crystal in case something happened to her.”

  “Tristan?” Daniel pressed.

  “Quinn,” Tristan seemed not to have heard him and he uttered the word dazedly.

  “What about Quinn?” Braddon barked.

  “If anyone can find it, Quinn can,” Tristan explained, the pain of loss shining in his blue eyes. “She knew Avery best.”

  “But you were her husband; surely you have the best chance of...”

  “No,” Tristan shook his head sadly, “Quinn. Quinn is the one you need – Avery trusted her more than anyone else in the world. More than me. If Avery left any clues Quinn would have found them.”

  “There’s something else you should know,” Braddon spoke out. “On my way here I passed a convoy of gypsies. They were about thirty miles out, headed east.”

  “Away from Cliffdale?” Daniel asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then they are of no concern.”

  “I must disagree,” Isaiah contradicted, “we should not underestimate the gypsies.”

  “They are treasure-seekers; fortune hunters! What little they have guessed will never get them near the City.”

  “They are thirty miles away,” Isaiah reminded him.

  “That is a coincidence. For a thousand years they have scoured the globe seeking the City. I am sure they will continue to do so for a thousand more. We need not concern ourselves with them.”

  Isaiah shook his head. This was a point on which he and Daniel often disagreed. Mankind’s proposed theories as to the gypsies’ origins were diverse and unfounded. They were also always incorrect. Due to their nomadic lifestyle, many wandering groups had been labelled as gypsies when in fact they were simply lost souls with absolutely no purpose. The true gypsies, as the Guardians were aware, had only one purpose: to find the City of Summerfeld. They had never ceased their search and the information that they had gathered had been passed down through the generations. They never identified themselves with any territories because they had taken a vow to make their home within the magical City. No-one knew how they had discovered the existence of Summerfeld, but it was suspected that a human faction had somehow witnessed some of King Eldon’s magic when he created both the City and the Guardians.

  The Guardians had sworn an oath to protect the City from any threat, and, while their main concern was always the vampires, they could not allow any faction to find it. The gypsies were a mere irritation, never really getting anywhere, but searching nonetheless. Isaiah knew better than to underestimate people, but Daniel was adamant that the gypsies were of no real consequence.

  “I want Quinn found,” Daniel barked, closing the subject. “She has to be living somewhere, and there has to be a paper trail, however deeply buried. Piper?” he turned to Quinn’s closest friend. Piper nodded meekly. She had no choice but to obey, but the thought of betraying Quinn weighed heavily on her kind heart.

  As the Guardians dispersed, Isaiah approached Daniel, waiting until they were alone before he spoke.

  “Do you not think we are being too hard on her?”

  “No,” the reply was immediate. “For over one thousand years we have watched over the City so that the wards can live out their days in peace. I will not let one rogue Guardian be our undoing.”

  Chapter 5

  The gypsy convoy consisted of about twenty vehicles including a rusted old Chevy truck that had once been a vivid red, but was now a dull monochrome. Balthazar Blackman took a large slug of his bottled water, wiping the sweat from his brow. The truck had no airconditioning and the hot wind blowing in through his open window brought no reprieve. They had only travelled about thirty miles but the heat beating off the glass windshield was fierce and the level of discomfort rose with every passing mile.

  Like his parents before him and their parents before that, Balthazar had been searching his whole life for the city, travelling without maps, relying on instinct as they moved from town to town, city to city, crossing continents in their ceaseless search. The Blackmans' history dated back to the very beginning of the gypsies’ heritage, over a thousand years of endless seeking. Balthazar’s sixteen-year old son, Jonas, shifted beside him. He had been napping on and off since they set out this morning, but the dry, breathless heat was rousing him.

  “Here,” Balthazar nudged Jonas with the water bottle and the younger man jerked awake, glaring at the bottle with bleary eyes. Yawning widely, showing exceptionally good teeth for someone who had never once visited a dentist, Jonas took the bottle and swigged.

  “Where are we?” he asked, rubbing his nose, with a hand so big it covered almost his entire face. He was a tall, lanky boy, strong as an ox, with dark messy hair and heavy-lidded eyes.

  “In the middle of nowhere,” Balthaza
r laughed at the rhetorical question. It didn’t matter where they were; the only thing that mattered was their ultimate destination.

  “Same place as yesterday, then,” Jonas grumbled. Balthazar tried to recall his own teen years and how he had questioned the nomadic lifestyle and the seemingly impossible task of finding the City. Jonas had reached an age where he no longer simply accepted his father’s beliefs, and had begun to challenge their way of life. Balthazar understood his son’s frustration and his selfish longing for a more stable upbringing, but Jonas did not yet comprehend the importance of their mission. He would understand in time, Balthazar tried to convince himself.

  Jonas said nothing more, settling into a sullen silence that stretched across a few more miles, while Balthazar focused on the barren landscape ahead. Their pace was agonisingly slow; the old converted delivery truck that belonged to Rowena, in particular, could not travel above fifty miles per hour and Rowena threw a fit if they pulled too far ahead of her. Despite their ten-year relationship, Rowena insisted on her independence and would not relinquish her clapped-out old truck, no matter how much it slowed them down. Most of the women travelled in the back of Rowena’s truck. Rowena was a strong, fiery woman, whose family had contributed just as much to the search for the City as Balthazar’s own. When Jonas’ mother had passed away shortly after his birth, Balthazar had been certain he would never love again. He had known Rowena all his life but she had always been one of those women who showed no interest in men – channelling all of her passion and energy into finding the City instead.