The Cathedral of Cliffdale

by Melissa Delport

  Turning back to Drake, Quinn opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

  “Safe journey, Guardian,” he murmured. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything about your sister.”

  Quinn nodded and turned wearily back to the house.

  Chapter 39

  “Why are we leaving now?” Rafe demanded. He had obeyed Quinn’s instruction and his belongings were packed in a duffel bag in the hall but of course the question was inevitable. Rafe trusted Quinn implicitly, as he would any Guardian, but he was no fool and knew that something was wrong. Quinn couldn’t even deny it – she would not lie to Rafe – but she could keep the truth to herself.

  “Isaiah has instructed us to return. Please Rafe,” she added, as he opened his mouth to question her further, "just wait in the car, I’ll be out soon.”

  He had left then, shouldering his pack and stalking outside, and a moment later she heard her car door slam. Satisfied, she hastily opened the secret room. The air was musty and a fine layer of dust had already settled over the desk. Powering off her computer, Quinn grabbed the photograph of Avery and the twins and stuffed it into her bag, before reaching for the amber crystal. She turned it over in her hand, weighing up her choices. She could take the crystal with her – keep it on her person and hope that she came to no harm, allowing it to fall into the wrong hands. Or, she could leave it here, in the relative safety of this house – a house into which a vampire had been invited. It came down to whether or not she really trusted Drake.

  The crystal, despite its gemlike quality, was warm in her hand and Quinn gazed down at it, still not sure what to do. Leaving it here would allow her to return, at some point, because Quinn could not deny the fact that she was returning to Summerfeld permanently to resume her Guardian duties. If Daniel consented to the plan she planned to propose, Jack and Ava would be safe and both she and Tristan would have full access to them. It was the best she could hope for. She loved the twins with all her heart, but she had come to realise that the Summerfeld wards needed her just as much as her niece and nephew did. The crystal was the only thing connecting her to Brookfield – to the friends she had made. If she left it behind she would have a reason to return, to see Sarah and Todd again - to see Drake again. Drake was a vampire, but he had saved her life. He had protected her from Sebastian and again from Genevieve. He had not harmed Rafe, he had kept his word, and he had promised to help her find her sister’s killer. He had also told her that he had no desire to hurt her. Despite everything she had known to be true her whole life, despite knowing that vampires were evil, hateful beings; Quinn believed him.

  Quinn deposited the crystal back on the dusty shelf beside the remaining frame – the photograph of herself, Avery and Tristan, and then, picking up her bag, she emerged from the room, punching in the digital code that would seal it and sliding back the shelf so that the door was hidden once more.

  Two days later Quinn and Rafe arrived at the Cathedral. The journey had not been a pleasant one. Rafe was an irascible travel companion, knowing that Quinn was withholding information, but to his credit, he had not pestered her. Quinn barely noticed the beauty of their surroundings as they climbed the massive stone steps, she was too concerned about what would happen when Rafe learned the truth about his mother, and her own grief over Vivienne’s loss still weighed heavily on her heart.

  Isaiah pulled open the great doors as they reached the top, his wise face creased in an expression of infinite sadness.

  “Thank you for coming so quickly, Quinn.”

  “What’s going on, Isaiah?” Rafe asked immediately.

  “Come inside.” Isaiah ushered him into the great hall and Quinn trailed behind, not wanting to witness the heartbreak that was sure to follow Isaiah’s revelation.

  Surprisingly, the Cathedral was empty, save for Piper, who sat alone at the council table, her eyes red-rimmed, as though she had only recently stopped crying. Quinn made her way quickly towards her old friend, enveloping her in a hug. Not only was Piper her dearest Guardian friend, but Quinn suspected that the young Guardian was experiencing a lot of guilt. Piper was no doubt the Guardian who had found Caleb in the first place. She monitored the internet and searched for clues that might lead them to lost members of the magical races. One look at Piper’s woebegone face and Quinn’s suspicions were confirmed.

  “You couldn’t have known,” she murmured, squeezing Piper’s hand. Piper blinked, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket.

  “I know,” she nodded, “but that doesn’t mean I feel any better about it.”

  “Please, sit,” Isaiah offered Rafe a chair.

  “I’d rather stand.” Quinn watched from the far end of the room as he visibly braced himself for the worst.

  “I asked Quinn not to tell you what happened in your absence,” Isaiah began gently, “because I thought you should hear it from me.

  “It’s Channon, isn’t it?” Rafe interrupted, his voice breaking on her name.

  “Channon is going to be fine,” Isaiah reassured him, “although yes, she was attacked. Her injuries were substantial but she lives.” Quinn’s hand flew to her mouth. She hadn’t known about Channon.

  “Where is she?” Rafe’s voice had taken on the low timbre that characterised the wolves when their emotions were heightened – a half-growl, deep and ominous.

  “She is here, you can see her shortly,” Isaiah promised, “but first it is my duty to tell you that your mother did not survive the attack.”

  “My mother?” Rafe’s yellow eyes opened even wider; shock and confusion reflected in the golden orbs. “Why would my mother be...?”

  “Your mother was attacked by the new Alpha. We do not yet understand why, but I think it is safe to say that it was an act of vengeance. Caleb was not pleased when he heard we had escorted you out of the City. In an attempt to draw you out he waited until the full moon to attack your mother. Kellan contacted me immediately, but sadly I could not get there in time to save her.”

  “My mother is dead?” Rafe intoned hollowly.

  “I am so sorry for your loss,” Isaiah stepped forward, wanting to comfort Rafe, but Rafe stepped back, raising his arms and keeping Isaiah at bay. His hands were trembling. Isaiah continued quickly, trying to get the rest of the story out before Rafe’s anger overwhelmed him. “Channon tried to defend your mother – she came to her aid and stood between them.”

  “So he attacked Channon too?” Rafe’s entire body was now trembling, and his voice was so low that Quinn could barely hear the words.

  “Actually, Caleb simply cast her aside. He wounded her, but not badly. It was Cassandra who attacked her in her weakened state.”

  Rafe let out a howl of rage and despair which echoed through the cavernous halls of the Cathedral.

  Quinn started with surprise and disgust. She was well aware that Cassandra had been jealous of Channon, but Channon was by far the stronger wolf. She stepped forward, the question bursting from her lips.

  “Cassandra beat Channon?”

  Isaiah shook his head, his eyes never leaving Rafe’s face.

  “Cassandra is dead,” he explained. “Channon killed her. Caleb was furious; he would have turned on her next. I arrived just in time and I brought Channon back here. She was badly hurt, but she will make a full recovery.”

  Piper let out a small whimper at the table, lifting her hands to cover her face. Quinn could empathise with her despair. The loss of any of Summerfeld’s inhabitants caused the Guardians great pain, and to lose them through such violent means was truly horrifying. Alphas had been killed before, through challenge, but this was acceptable – the wolves fought bravely for their dominance and sometimes the animal instinct was just too strong. This was an acceptable loss – a natural order. But what Caleb had done was nothing short of savage, vindictive cruelty. To target an old, weak female for the sole purpose of causing Rafe grief was unforgiveable.

  “This is my fault,” Rafe grimaced. “If I had stayed they wouldn’t have b
een hurt; my mother would still be alive.”

  “You can’t know that, Rafe...” Quinn interjected.

  “Actually, Rafe is right.” Isaiah replied.

  “What?”

  “We should never have taken you out of the City,” Isaiah explained. “We have never done it before; it is not our place to interfere with pack law. And it is certainly not our place to remove a ward of Summerfeld from its protective enchantments. Freya suggested this solution with the best intentions because she believed, as I did, that Caleb was like you. That he would care for the pack, as Alphas have for centuries. But we were wrong. We put your life in great danger and accomplished nothing. Two wolves are dead,” Isaiah turned to Quinn who had opened her mouth to retort. “And Channon lies in a hospital bed.”

  “It should have been me.” Rafe confirmed submissively.

  “No!” Quinn snapped, stepping forward. “I don’t accept that. Our duty is to protect the lives of every single person or being that resides in the City,” she turned on Isaiah. “Every single one. That includes Rafe.”

  “Our duty is to protect the wards from the vampires who hunt them,” Isaiah corrected. “Not to protect them from one another.”

  “You’re manipulating the text,” Quinn spat. “We have never dealt with a situation like this before – there is no precedent. It is up to us to decide what is right and what is wrong, and I, personally, plan to defend what is right.”

  “I want to see her,” Rafe asked Isaiah, completely ignoring Quinn’s outburst. “I want to see my wife.” The fact that he called Channon by that title sobered Quinn more than anything.

  “She’s in the infirmary,” Isaiah gestured towards a corridor beyond him, and Rafe stalked off in that direction, his whole body stooped with acceptance.

  Rafe found Channon at the end of the hall, in a small, narrow room. Her skin was pale, almost the same colour as the white sheet that was drawn over her, and dark shadows had formed beneath her eyes. Her black hair hung limply over her shoulders. She looked terrible, but it was the four deep lacerations on her left cheek that drew Rafe’s gaze. Her hands, too, were bloody and bruised, and there were two fingernails missing on her right hand. Rafe was too terrified to lift the sheet and assess the damage to the rest of her body.

  She opened her eyes as he sat gently on the edge of the bed. Being Channon, she didn’t throw herself into his arms, or grab hold of him, or beseech him to never leave her again. Instead, she smiled sadly, wincing slightly as the skin on her left cheek pulled taut.

  “Where’ve you been, stranger?” she croaked sleepily.

  “Out of town,” he joked back, his heart constricting with love.

  “I’m so sorry about your mom.” Her amber eyes searched his and Rafe tried not to betray the depth of his emotion.

  “Thank you for defending her.”

  “I didn’t. I failed her.”

  “You tried, Channon. You shouldn’t have, but you did, and I will be grateful to you forever.”

  “Rafe,” Channon swallowed, her mouth bone dry. “You should know.... Raina... she...”

  “I don’t want to talk about my sister,” he growled, then immediately regretting the harsh reaction, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

  “Are you leaving again?” she asked, trying to make light of it, but he could hear the tremor in her voice.

  “No. I’ll never leave you again,” he promised.

  “You’re going to challenge him, aren’t you?”

  “I have to.”

  “You won’t win, Rafe. He’s too strong.”

  “Then I won’t win,” he shrugged acceptingly, “but I have to try.”

  “I know.” She closed her eyes, but, as he watched, a tear slipped through her long sooty lashes and made its way slowly down her cheek. Rafe took her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing her palm and then resting it against his cheek. They both fell silent and soon Channon’s breathing deepened as she fell into a restless slumber, oblivious to the argument raging outside.

  Chapter 40

  Jonas walked back to the camp seething with anger. School was as bad as he remembered and it hadn’t taken long for the other kids to pick on him – his clothing, the fact that he didn’t have a cell phone or even a wallet, for that matter. They mocked his rough accent, and worse, there was a letter in his faded, torn satchel from the deputy-head regarding an incident in the cafeteria that would no doubt raise his father’s ire. In all fairness, Jonas hadn’t started the fight – it had been a burly, thick-set boy who had, in a moment of pure teenage stereotype, tripped Jonas up and sent him hurtling face-first across the cafeteria floor. Jonas had retaliated and the boy had been sent to the school nurse with a bleeding lip. He could tell by the way the deputy had gazed down his long nose at Jonas that he had already assigned blame without even questioning the other students. Not that any of them would have come to Jonas’s defence anyway.

  Balthazar would not take this well, but Jonas would die before he admitted he had made a mistake. The only reason he had insisted on going in the first place had been to find Monique. He had been so sure that she would be there, but he had searched for her everywhere, his heart skipping a beat every time he spotted a long, dark red ponytail... only to be disappointed when it wasn’t her.

  “How was school?” Rowena called as he approached through the trees. She and Balthazar were alone in the woods on the outskirts of camp. Balthazar glanced up from where he sat a few yards away, pouring over his textbooks. His father had been withdrawn for the past few days, as though he had a secret that he wasn’t ready to share. Jonas didn’t care about Balthazar’s secrets, but at least it kept his dad’s mind off Jonas and he hadn’t noticed that his son was even more sullen than usual.

  “What happened?’ Rowena asked, perceptive as ever.

  “This,” Jonas handed her the note, his eyes pleading. He cast furtive looks across at Balthazar as her dark eyes scanned the page, a small frown creasing her smooth brow.

  “I’m assuming you didn’t start it?” she asked quietly when she had finished. Jonas gave her a pointed look and she nodded. “That’s what I thought. You got a pen?” Jonas fished one out of his bag and Rowena signed off the form, stuffing it quickly back into his hands.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, and then, wanting to change the subject, “what’s dad up to?”

  “Just the usual research,” she answered, a little too quickly.

  Balthazar had sworn Rowena to secrecy after they had discovered the portal at the canyon. Rowena understood his reasoning. If they disclosed its location, not even Balthazar’s informal authority would stop their entire community rushing through it, and it was imperative that the Guardians did not learn of the discovery, not until Balthazar had figured out what to do next.

  “Why do you want to go to that school anyway?” she asked, distracting Jonas. “And don’t give me that bullshit you fed your father about leading a normal life and getting an education. I know you despise it there.”

  “I don’t!” he exclaimed, but Rowena fixed him with a knowing look. “Okay, maybe I do.” Jonas had always been able to confide in Rowena far more than he ever could his father. She didn’t judge him and she never made him feel guilty for having an interest in something other than the search. “I met a girl,” he confessed, dropping his voice to barely more than a whisper. “I thought she might be there.”

  “And I take it from your delightful mood that she’s not?” Rowena smiled.

  “I don’t think so. She might be – it’s a big campus.” Jonas still held out hope that he might find Monique at school. She could be in different classes or might have been off sick. Either way, he refused to give up until he was absolutely certain she wasn’t there. Until then, he would have to endure it.

  “Where did you see her?” Rowena asked as an afterthought.

  “At the gas station, a few weeks ago.”

  “Well, I hope you find her – although she’s probably not good enough for you,” Ro
wena nudged him with her shoulder.

  “Probably,” he agreed half-heartedly. “I better go and do my homework.” He headed towards the tent he shared with Balthazar when his father wasn’t ensconced in the flatbed of Rowena’s truck. Gypsy women were extremely promiscuous, but Rowena and Balthazar had a very rare relationship – a monogamous relationship out of wedlock.

  “Jonas,” she called, and he cringed at the volume of her voice. “If you do find her,” Rowena continued, “maybe you could bring her here for the bonfire.” Once a month the gypsies lit a bonfire, dancing and singing through the night. It was their way of celebrating - the gypsy equivalent of a party. Nodding, Jonas continued on towards his tent. If he did ever find her, he doubted Monique would be impressed with the gypsy idea of revelry, but he was so desperate to see her he would probably ask her anyway.

  “Our people need answers,” Rowena spoke, watching Jonas’s hulking departure. She and Balthazar had visited the portal again while the boy was at school. It was hard to keep him away – it was as if he needed constant reassurance that their discovery had been real – that they had indeed finally found the lost City. “We can’t keep them here much longer without an explanation,” she persisted.

  The gypsies had stayed in one place this long before, but always with reasonable explanations – clues, that had invariably turned out to be nothing. Never before had Balthazar withheld information and the lack of communication was starting to cause discord among the gypsies. Melchior, in particular, wanted to press on, insisting that the presence of a single cornflower was not enough to warrant a lengthy stay. Rowena had never liked Melchior – he had hurt a few of her girls in the past and he had a vicious streak in him that Balthazar refused to see.

  “The Guardians will mow us down if they feel there is any threat to the City,” Balthazar intoned hollowly. “We cannot make a move until we know for sure what awaits us.”