Isaiah would not allow Monique to witness Rafe and Channon’s transformation, more for the werewolves' benefit than anything else. The wolves would not harm the Guardians, even in wolf form, but their changing was both painful and shaming and was certainly not a source of entertainment. Rafe and Channon were outcasts, trying to adjust to a new way of life, and having strangers around would not ease their transition. Isaiah did, however, consent to allowing Monique to view the Chumana eggs that Kellan had deposited in his shed.
“When will they hatch?” Monique asked and Kellan smiled.
“In a few months, as far as I can tell.”
“How will you care for them?”
“I’ll feed them until they get too big for the shed, and then I’ll find somewhere safe for them to grow. I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, Isaiah,” he added. “I’m not really sure where they would be safe?”
“Giant’s Castle,” Isaiah responded immediately. “The mountains are their natural habitat and Giant’s Castle will be safe for them until they are old enough to return to Dragon’s Peak.”
“What about the giants and the dwarves?” Quinn interrupted. Giant’s Castle was a mountain named for the giants that dwelled on its slopes.
“I doubt these hatchlings will show any aggression towards either,” Isaiah replied, “so long as we keep them well-fed.”
“Can they fly when they hatch?” Monique brought the conversation back to the source of her fascination.
“No,” Kellan sat down on the floor beside her, “their wings are very fragile as newborns and not proportionate to their heavy bodies. They will be ready to fly when they are about a year old.”
“What if they burn down the shed when they come out?” Monique sounded more curious than concerned, as if she hoped the hatchlings might do just that.
“Dragons can’t breathe proper fire until they are fully matured, around the same time they learn to fly. Before that, their flames are manageable.”
“So they’re harmless for the first year?” she looked thoughtful.
“Essentially, yes. Their aggression is directly related to their ability to breathe fire.”
“Awesome.” Monique finally fell silent, but she obviously had great plans to make pets out of the eight Chumana babies. Quinn was fairly certain Camille would far rather her daughter have a puppy. She was also acutely conscious of Tristan’s eyes on her, but she refused to look at him.
“We should go,” Kellan murmured, appearing at her side and Quinn nodded, grateful for the respite. Leaving the others with Freya, Quinn half-expected Tristan would insist on coming with them, but thankfully, he stayed with his family.
Rafe and Channon lived on the opposite side of town from Kellan’s house, and they walked along in companionable silence.
“Kellan, Quinn,” Rafe greeted them as he opened the door. Quinn was shocked by the werewolf’s appearance – Rafe had always glowed with good health and his pride had bordered on the verge of arrogance. Now, his brown hair stuck up like a hedgehog's prickles – not deliberately tousled like Tristan’s, but rather dishevelled and unkempt. The growth of hair on his face proved he had not shaved for at least a week, and his eyes were hollow; haunted even. Channon was sitting at the kitchen table staring into space as they all took a seat.
“How are you coping?” Quinn asked gently and Channon’s eyes came to rest on her. Channon, too, looked as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Her usually glossy black hair was lacklustre, hanging in dirty, lifeless strands down her face. Her amber eyes were dull and there was an air of despair about her that frightened Quinn.
“Okay,” she answered, glancing quickly at Rafe, who stared back at her with ill-concealed resentment.
“She shouldn’t be here,” he barked roughly. “Her place is with the pack. Caleb has forbidden anyone to speak to me.”
“I told you, I’m not going,” Channon hissed, “I don’t belong to him. I don’t belong to anyone.”
“You have a duty!” Rafe retorted and Quinn was reminded painfully of her father. It seemed she and Channon had a lot in common and Quinn sympathised with the werewolf, but she could also see what Channon could not. Rafe’s words might seem harsh and callous, but they were borne out of concern for his mate.
“It seems as though Channon has made her choice,” Quinn interrupted, trying to diffuse the tension between them.
“It is not her choice to make!” Rafe argued. “Pack law dictates that the dominant male and his chosen mate are required to mate. Caleb has chosen Channon and, in refusing him, she jeopardises the pack hierarchy and puts them all at risk. Caleb is unstable - living alone for so many years has unhinged him and he could easily take his anger out on the others.”
“I can’t,” Channon was almost pleading, “I can’t just switch off my feelings, Rafe! You are my Alpha...”
“I am not!” Rafe’s eyes were wild, and Quinn understood that, with the full moon so close, his emotions were not entirely under control. “I am not the Alpha; not anymore. I am nothing.”
Channon half stood, determined to comfort him, before shaking herself and sitting back down again.
“Let’s just get you through this night,” Kellan spoke for the first time, “we can deal with the rest later.”
Rafe grunted, and then nodded reluctantly.
An hour before nightfall there was a firm rapping on the front door. Rafe and Channon were down to their underwear, drenched in sweat, the heat a typical symptom of their transformation. Kellan rose to his feet to answer the door but before Quinn could even register the sudden noise a short, stocky man erupted into the kitchen.
His hair was a tawny gold mane that fell to his shoulders and his eyes a deep brown, flecked with gold. He was attractive, in a dangerous, cruel way. For a second, the cold glint in his eyes reminded Quinn of Drake.
“Channon,” he called, his voice rasping and gravelly, “the full moon is upon us. You will accompany me to Lunar Grove. Now,” he added authoratively. “I have indulged you enough.” Quinn noticed how he ignored Rafe completely – as though the older wolf was not even present. Rafe did not react, keeping his eyes fixed on the table before him, but Quinn noticed a muscle going in his jaw.
Channon lifted her face, her eyes flashing defiantly.
“I will not,” she exclaimed haughtily. Caleb growled, a low, intimidating sound that started deep in his chest. His eyes were already changing – the brown lightening to an unnatural yellow, the pupils shrinking. Glancing at the others, Quinn noticed that their eyes were also morphing. The transition was not far off.
“You belong to me now,” Caleb growled.
“I belong to no-one!” Channon insisted, getting to her feet. “I’m a wolf one night of the month! I’m human the rest. I will not let the smallest part of me dictate my path.” Quinn sensed where she was headed and she stood too, realising the damage it would cause, but she was too late. “Rafe is my mate,” Channon snarled, “I will not leave him.”
The words had barely left her mouth when Caleb launched himself across the room, flying at Rafe in a frenzy of loathing. Channon’s words were the trigger – she had belittled the new Alpha in front of the very wolf whose place he had won. It was the ultimate insult and Caleb could not allow it. Quinn and Kellan charged forward, pulling at Caleb, trying to get him off Rafe, who was lying prostrate on the floor. It broke Quinn’s heart that he never once tried to defend himself; that he willingly submitted to the new Alpha’s dominance, as was their way. Channon was screaming, sounding part-human, part-wolf as her shrieks morphed into a howl.
Quinn had had enough. Pushing Kellan aside for his own safety, she grabbed Caleb under his arms and in one fluid movement she pulled him off Rafe and threw him aside. Caleb’s head connected painfully with the leg of Kellan’s discarded chair, and he leapt to his feet, a low growl emanating from his lips, which were pulled back in an ugly snarl. Quinn was not intimated and, ignoring Kellan’s cry of warning, she stepped between the two
werewolves, lifting her arms and preparing to defend her friend. Channon flew to Rafe’s side, weeping, but determined, her top lip curled in anger.
“You are interfering in pack business, Guardian,” Caleb warned Quinn.
“It is my duty to protect the inhabitants of Summerfeld,” she retorted, “all of them. I do not want to hurt you, but I cannot allow this.” It struck her that Caleb was new to the City and that he had not spent his life being protected by the Guardians – he did not automatically trust them as the other werewolves did. In fact, it occurred to her that the way Caleb was looking at her – an expression of loathing and disgust in his yellow eyes – that not only did he not trust her, he didn’t like her either. Quinn recoiled; she had never come across a supernatural creature who showed such animosity for the Guardians.
“I should have killed him,” Caleb sneered, referring to the fight that had made him Alpha. “It was a mistake to let him live.”
“Well, you didn’t,” Quinn pointed out archly, “and I think it's time for you to go.” She glanced towards the still-open door. Dusk was falling – they didn’t have long.
“I want her,” Caleb nodded at Channon, who was still kneeling at Rafe’s side. The older werewolf was starting to stir, his face bloody and bruised. The leering look Caleb bestowed upon Channon made Quinn’s blood run cold. It was primal and shameless - he wanted to possess Channon, to control her and dominate her entirely. Unlike the other werewolves that Quinn knew, Caleb was driven entirely by his animal instinct.
“You need to go,” she repeated, ready to force him if necessary. “You have only a few minutes before sunset – we can resolve this tomorrow.” He seemed set to argue, and then a sadistic smile settled over his hard face.
“If he hunts, I’ll kill him,” he warned, and then he flew through the open door and disappeared from sight.
Chapter 25
Caleb’s meaning was clear – if Rafe ventured out in wolf form, Caleb would hunt him and finish what he had started. Channon should not have defied him, she had started a feud between the two men that Quinn feared would only end in death. She turned to reproach the female werewolf, but Channon had already started panting, her back arched in pain. Rafe was not much better, and he yelped as his body convulsed. The werewolves were shifting.
Quinn and Kellan quickly moved the table and chairs into the living-room, giving the two room, and then locked the doors and windows, barricading them in. Rafe was still in human form when Quinn returned to his side. The hair on his face was growing thicker and his yellow eyes seemed to look through her, but she knew that he could hear her.
“Rafe, you cannot go outside. Do you understand me? You need to fight your hunting instinct and stay inside until the morning. Your life depends on it... Channon’s life depends on it.” At the last, his eyes left her face and found Channon’s, and a glimmer of understanding passed between them. Quinn stood and backed up, slowly, until she reached the living-room. It was going to be a long night.
Quinn knew that the wolves would not harm her or Kellan, so when Rafe and Channon trotted out of the kitchen a few minutes later in full wolf form she remained seated. Rafe whined, his yellow eyes meeting hers, and Channon pawed the ground, her sharp nails gouging grooves in the wooden floor. Rafe was big for a wolf and his pelt was a gorgeous grey and white – he had always been a beautiful specimen. Both his and Channon’s fur was longer than normal, and Channon, in particular, looked thinner. Channon was smaller than Rafe, but no less beautiful - her pure ebony coat glinting in the lamplight. She scratched the floor again and then threw back her head and howled – a sorrowful, piercing sound. Rafe did not join her, but he did make a whining noise and flattened his ears. Quinn’s heart broke for their obvious distress.
“They need to feed,” she murmured to Kellan, keeping a wary eye on the wolves, as Channon nudged Rafe, trying to get his attention. She hoped that Rafe would not retaliate and hurt her. Food would distract and hopefully settle them, as they fought their instinct to hunt.
“I brought some over earlier today,” Kellan nodded and headed for the back door. Rafe circled the room warily, and Channon followed, her yellow eyes flitting every now and then to Quinn. Twice, she gave Quinn a cautionary growl, but Quinn made no move to interfere with them, sitting perfectly still on the sofa.
Kellan returned after just a few minutes, depositing what looked like a deer carcass on the floor of the kitchen. The dark stain just below the animal’s shoulder marked the place where his arrow had shot straight and true. Quinn grimaced as blood seeped onto the hardwood floor. The wolves approached the deer, sniffing curiously and Quinn held her breath. Rafe nosed the carcass, but then turned away and continued his relentless pacing. Quinn heaved a sigh of disappointment.
“He will eat, eventually,” Kellan soothed beside her, “and he will not leave the house. I thought they would put up more of a struggle, but it seems they are just as fearful of going outside as we are for them.”
Without warning, the front door burst open. Rafe darted forward, ready to attack, but stopped almost immediately. Tristan stood in the doorway, his eyes wild.
“Tristan?” Quinn was on her feet in a heartbeat, “What is it?”
“It’s Monique,” his face was ashen, “she’s gone!” Quinn hesitated for the space of a heartbeat.
“Go,” Kellan ushered her out, “I told you – they are not going to leave the house; I can manage on my own. The Guardians need you Quinn. Go!”
Closing the front door behind her, she set her hands on Tristan’s shaking shoulders.
“What do you mean, Monique is gone?” she asked frantically, as Camille and Isaiah rushed up the front lawn to join them.
“I’m warning you, Tristan,” Camille shrieked, her face red and ravaged with fear, “if anything’s happened to her I’ll...”
“Where could she be?” Quinn interrupted, not understanding any of it. “And how could anyone abduct Monique from inside the City – it’s not possible.” Camille gave a hysterical snort of derision.
“Nobody’s taken her,” she hissed, “I know my child – the stubborn, insistent little brat!” Quinn could clearly make out the desperate concern beneath her harsh words. Camille was terrified for her child. Perplexed, Quinn turned to Isaiah, the only one calm enough to give her any details.
“We think she’s gone to Dragon's Peak,” he explained, “we didn’t want to intrude, but you are the only other Guardian in Summerfeld right now and we need your help. Piper is guarding the Cathedral in my absence.”
“Of course,” Quinn understood immediately. Monique had gone to see the dragons despite their warnings. She was in very real danger and they had to stop her. Sprinting back down the street, Quinn heard the high-pitched whistling behind her. Isaiah was calling ahead for the unicorns.
Quinn and Tristan burst into the cornflower field behind Kellan’s house at the same time, narrowly avoiding being trampled by the stampeding beasts approaching from the opposite direction. Etana and Sheehan were there and Quinn jumped onto Etana’s back, racing towards Dragon’s Peak. Tristan, on Sheehan, was right beside her. She could hear Isaiah yelling, telling Camille she needed to stay, and the fainter cries of Camille’s vehement disagreement, but then they entered the trees and all she could hear was the thundering of the unicorn’s hooves beneath her and the distant howling of the wolf pack.
Quinn slid off Etana’s back as she reared up in the air. Quinn had brought her much closer to the mountain than before, and the mare quivered in distress at being this close to the dragons. Glancing up at the mist looming above her, Quinn shivered herself. She had barely survived her own encounter with the dragons so recently, and now a 15-year-old girl was up there, alone and completely unprepared for what she was walking into. The other creatures of Summerfeld were charming, or at the very least, placid enough to tolerate the Guardians, but the dragons were vicious and posed a great danger when the Guardians were in their territory. Tristan was already sprinting up the steep path and
Quinn was torn between following him and waiting for Isaiah, who had dismounted and was now kneeling at the edge of Lake Avalon, calling for the merfolk. The merfolk might have seen Monique, and which direction she had headed in, but Quinn did not stay to find out. She made her decision and tore up the mountain after Tristan.
Quinn had been a Guardian a lot longer than Tristan and it didn’t take her long to catch up to him. She was fitter and stronger; years of training had given her amazing endurance and made her lethal in combat, but even she would not take on a dragon.
“Tristan!” she grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. His eyes were frantic, darting everywhere.
“I have to find her Quinn!”
“Shhhhh!” she whispered urgently, “we will, but we have to be quiet.”
“Camille will never forgive me,” his face crumpled again and Quinn understood his fierce filial loyalty – she had felt exactly the same devotion for Avery.
“Monique is going to be fine,” she promised, just as Isaiah caught up with them.
“You two need to stay here, I’ll go up,” he instructed. Unsurprisingly, Tristan immediately started arguing, raucously.
“I have more experience with the dragons,” Isaiah rationalised, “you might just anger them and they will only become more agitated. Just give me half an hour... if I’m not back by then by all means continue with the search.” He didn’t need to add that if he didn’t return he would most likely be dead. Isaiah left then, with a cautionary look at Quinn, and she nodded her understanding. She needed to keep Tristan here.
Tristan didn’t give up easily, but eventually Quinn calmed him enough that he agreed to wait half an hour and not a moment longer. They stood in restless silence as the minutes ticked by. Tristan could not stay still and kept casting hopeful glances up the mountain at the slightest sound. Quinn wished she could offer words of comfort, but she had a terrible foreboding that things were going to end badly.
The Cathedral of Cliffdale Page 16
