The Cathedral of Cliffdale

by Melissa Delport

  “If you were to leave, would you consider taking the children with you? You would be compensated, of course.”

  “Compensated!” Camille squeaked indignantly. “These are children we are talking about. I will take them because they are family, not because I want something out of it!”

  “I’m sorry,” Quinn hastened to appease her, “I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that neither you nor Monique would have to suffer as a result of raising them.

  “Well then, yes, to answer your question, I would want them to come with us. I cannot bond with the children if the arrangement is not permanent.”

  “Perfect,” Quinn agreed. “Well then you have my word that if you leave the City, the children will stay with you wherever you live.” Camille seemed flustered by the ease of Quinn’s confirmation. “Do you have any other concerns?” Quinn asked politely. Camille reddened slightly under her gaze and Monique chuckled.

  “Tell her the third thing, mom.”

  Camille glared at Monique who was sprawled across the sofa. “Well,” Camille turned back to Quinn, “I’m not being ungrateful, and I am perfectly content with the simpler things in life, but I am a little concerned about the space...”

  “She wants a bigger house,” Monique stated bluntly, cutting her mother short. Quinn actually laughed out loud at that.

  “Of course you would have a bigger home,” she confirmed. “You could hardly raise three children here! In fact, it’s too small even for you and Monique. I’ll ask Kellan to get you set up in something more suitable immediately.”

  “That is very kind, thank you,” Camille looked relieved. “And Quinn,” she added, as Quinn turned to leave, “I would have taken them even in this tiny bed-sit, you know. They’re my blood. You don’t abandon your blood.” Her tone was fiercely protective and Quinn knew she had made the right decision asking Camille to be Jack and Ava’s foster-mother. In fact, she mused to herself as she made her way back up the cobbled street, it seemed that, while Guardians pride themselves on being infinitely wiser than ordinary men, they could certainly learn a thing or two from their human counterparts about the importance of family.

  Chapter 42

  Quinn had lived in Summerfeld for almost a century before Avery’s death, but she hadn’t been back to her home in the City since she had taken Jack and Ava on as her own, almost two years ago. She opened the door, which had no lock, much like every other abode within the City’s boundary. There were no secrets in Summerfeld, only a deep love and trust of one another. Common courtesy was observed without question and no-one had entered Quinn’s house since she had left. Taking in the dust trailing across every surface, Quinn sighed, thinking wistfully of Alice, her Brookfield char. With nothing else to do she set about cleaning, starting with the kitchen. She meticulously wiped everything down and mopped the floor, emptying bucket upon bucket of dirty brown water down the stone sink. Water, supplied directly from the same river that flowed through the fountain, was fed through to every residence in town.

  Slowly the room transformed. Standing on a high chair, Quinn unclipped the netted curtains, and submerged them in a sinkful of soapy water. The Fae made everything that they needed to survive from natural sources – soaps infused with lavender, lamps fuelled by natural oils, linen made from the cotton plants, exotic fruit, vegetables and legumes that, when coupled with the deer and boar the Fae hunted, provided a balanced food source. Everything was stored and the stock was permanently replenished, so that the City's inhabitants could simply help themselves. There was no currency, no method of payment and nothing ever ran out – Eldon’s magic had ensured an abundance of every conceivable resource they would ever require. Kellan and other members of the Fae oversaw all the farming within the community.

  When the curtains had been washed and rinsed to her satisfaction, Quinn made her way outside. She was just hanging them over a hawthorn hedge and mourning the loss of human luxuries, such as her dryer, when she heard a lilting voice calling her name. Hastening back inside she found Freya standing on her doorstep holding a covered basket. The sight of Freya’s swollen belly filled Quinn with a renewed sense of awe.

  “Hi Freya!” she smiled. “Please come in. I’m sorry about the mess,” she added, grimacing at the amount of work she still had to do. She had spent all morning just cleaning the kitchen.

  “I would have kept it clean for you,” Freya lisped softly, “but I didn’t want to just invade your home.”

  “It’s okay,” Quinn eased her concerns. “It’s my mess, I’ll sort it out.”

  “I’d like to help,” Freya insisted. “I need something to keep my mind off of things.” Quinn realised, with a flash, that Freya was harbouring the guilt of having sent Channon back to the wolves.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she said quickly. “None of us could have known that Caleb was capable of this.” Freya smiled indulgently, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  “I brought you something to eat,” she changed the subject, holding up the basket she carried. Quinn caught a whiff of freshly baked bread. Her mouth watered.

  “Thank you,” she accepted gratefully, taking the proffered basket and setting it down on the now gleaming kitchen counter. Freya didn’t want to talk about the wolves and she wouldn’t press her. “How are you feeling? Is the pregnancy going well?”

  “It is. The baby is kicking a lot. She’s very active – definitely her father’s child.”

  “She?” Quinn raised her brows in surprise.

  “It’s just a guess,” Freya quickly corrected.

  “So, it’s any day now, right?”

  “Yes. I’m starting to feel the pain in my back that I am told signals impending labour.”

  “It’s so wonderful,” Quinn’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

  “That’s actually another reason I came by,” Freya smiled shyly. “Kellan and I would like you to be present at the birth... if you’re still here, that is.”

  “Me?” Quinn squeaked, taken by surprise. “Why?”

  “Because,” Freya explained, as if it were obvious, “you dedicate your life to protecting us. I think it’s only fitting that you are there to experience a new life coming into our world. After all, if it weren’t for the Guardians, none of us would be here. She is here because of you,” she rubbed her belly fondly, “and because you’re family – you’re like a daughter to us.”

  Quinn was so touched that she had to take a moment to compose herself. Freya waited patiently for her answer, completely at ease.

  “Yes,” Quinn replied eventually, breaking the silence. “I would be honoured. Truly honoured.” Freya smiled then - a dazzling beam that lit up her ethereally pretty face.

  “I’m so pleased,” she said, and Quinn could tell she really meant it. “Kellan will send for you when the time comes. Now,” she glanced around at the small living-room, “how about I help you get the rest of this place cleaned up?”

  Despite Quinn’s insistence that Freya was too heavily pregnant to be doing manual labour, the Faery wouldn’t take no for an answer. Eventually, realising she could not deter Freya and that she was simply getting in the way, Quinn moved into her small bedroom to change the sheets and sweep the hardwood floors. Thankfully, the inside of her cupboards seemed to have escaped the blanket of dust and her clothes were fine to be worn, although they smelled a little musty.

  The sun was low on the horizon when Freya finally left, having insisted Quinn eat before she did. Feeling filthy, Quinn ran a small bath, with water that was only just tepid, thanks to a natural geyser below the City. Dressed in one of her older pairs of jeans and a pale mauve polo-neck jersey, she went in search of Tristan. Apologising to him had been the first thing on her mind when she had come through the portal, but her nerves had set in and she had put it off all day, using Freya’s visit and the ceaseless cleaning to distract her. Now, though, there was nothing left to postpone the inevitable, and Quinn didn’t want their first encounter to be at the council table tomorrow, surroun
ded by nine other Guardians.

  As it was, she didn’t have to go very far. Tristan’s house, a mirror image of her own, was only a few doors down, and she could tell by the soft light emanating from the window that he was at home.

  Quinn knocked at the front door, trying not to think about the fact that the last time she had visited this house she and Tristan had been dating. After Avery’s return, Tristan and Avery had spent most of their time inside Summerfeld at Avery’s house, and soon after learning of Avery’s pregnancy, they had moved out into the realm of man. Tristan had returned almost immediately to the Guardianship and Avery had stayed behind with the children. It was a rare occurrence that female Guardians had children of their own, given the amount of time and dedication that the Guardianship required. Usually, the male Guardians developed relationships with human girls and children were borne of these relationships. The Guardian fathers continued with their duties as normal, seldom visiting their children, although they were always kept track of. Tristan and Avery’s situation had been unique and Avery had been allowed to raise Jack and Ava herself, or so Quinn had believed, but Tristan had been made to return. The council could not allow two Guardians to be absent for such an extended period of time. As it turned out, Avery had never intended to raise the children herself and provisional plans had been made with Kellan and Freya.

  “Quinn?” Tristan’s voice roused Quinn from her reverie, and she shook her head, clearing her thoughts.

  “Hi,” she smiled shyly. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” he opened the door, allowing her to pass. His house looked exactly the same as the last time she had been here, the only thing that had changed was the picture above the fireplace. Quinn remembered the painting of the Unicorn Glade that had hung there before, a panorama of beauty. Now, in its place, hung a portrait of Avery, so lifelike that Quinn held her breath as she gazed upon it. Forgetting Tristan, she stepped towards it, taking in the soft lines of Avery’s face and the dark mass of hair that tumbled down over her left shoulder.

  “Freya did it for me, shortly after... after Avery passed away,” Tristan murmured from behind her.

  “She was so beautiful,” Quinn swallowed down the lump in her throat.

  “That’s pretty ironic,” he said, and Quinn turned to find him smiling at her, “seeing as you look exactly the same.”

  Quinn had never thought of herself as beautiful. She had always held Avery on a pedestal and acknowledged that her sister had been stunning, but for some reason she had never thought of herself in the same way, despite the fact that their features were identical. Perhaps it was the fact that Avery had been soft, much softer than Quinn had ever been. She was kind and sweet, and she had always known just what to say to make people feel comfortable and better about themselves. Facing Tristan now, Quinn wished she had Avery’s knack for finding the right words to convey what she was feeling.

  “I came to apologise,” she blurted out. “I never thought about it before, but you were right. I am the reason you lost contact with the children. And if the truth be told, you weren’t a terrible father...”

  “Thanks,” he chuckled, not sure whether she was insulting or complimenting him.

  “The point is, I’ve been selfish and I know I can’t change what’s happened, but I promise you, I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that Ava and Jack are brought back here... so that you can see them anytime you want.”

  “You’re going to bargain with Avery’s crystal?” he mused thoughtfully.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m not done. I’m also sorry about the other night. I’m sorry that I made you feel that you had to leave so suddenly.”

  “You didn’t,” he muttered, comprehension dawning on his handsome face.

  “I didn’t? But you left... you didn’t even say goodbye.”

  “I left because it was easier to go than to stay, Quinn. I left because it was too hard to be so close to you and yet so far. I know it’s wrong... God help me, I know,” he glanced up at Avery’s portrait with a pained expression, “but I can’t help how I feel. And I’m no fool. I can see the way you look at me. I know that I remind you of her, and for that reason I have to stay away from you. It’s not easy, but it’s the least you deserve.”

  “What are you saying, Tristan?” Quinn was struggling to make sense of his words.

  “I’m saying that I loved your sister. I will always love her. But I think I made a mistake six years ago.”

  Quinn stiffened. Six years ago Tristan had met Avery and he had left Quinn to be with her.

  “I saw the way you looked at her. If Avery were still here you would never be saying these things.”

  “Maybe not,” he shrugged; looking even more bewildered than Quinn was feeling. “That’s why I left. I honestly don’t know and I can’t give you a straight answer.”

  “You never felt for me the way you did for my sister,” Quinn repeated.

  “Then how do you explain the fact that when I look at that,” he gestured at the portrait, “I do not see my wife?” His voice rose dangerously and Quinn’s heart seemed to drop into her stomach as she anticipated his next words before he even opened his mouth, “I only see you.”

  Chapter 43

  Quinn turned on her heel and fled, unable to deal with the emotion that threatened to drown her. Tristan - her friend, her lover, her past. Tristan - Avery’s husband, father of Avery’s children, Guardian, betrayer, man. She had loved him deeply, so very deeply, and when he had left her she had never known pain like it. She had hardened her heart in order to protect herself - to protect the fragile heart that he had wounded so badly. She had built walls around herself so high that she wondered if she would ever be able to take them down. And in the space of a few short words Tristan had obliterated those walls, exposing the vulnerability that lay beneath and releasing all the feelings she had suppressed in order to be able to feel truly happy for her sister. Her love for Avery had kept her going, while her love for Tristan had never died. It had simply manifested for a time, in anger.

  Quinn reached the cornflower field and emitted a high whistle. As if sensing her desperation, Dessa burst from the treeline almost immediately, galloping towards her in full flight. The unicorn slowed as she drew level with Quinn, but did not come to a complete stop, and Quinn grabbed a handful of her mane, hauling herself up onto the mare’s broad back. Like kindred spirits they raced back towards the unicorn glade, the sinking sun casting a long shadow beside them. Dessa too, had been shunned by Primera when Zinnia had come along. Just as Vivienne had been cast aside when Rafe’s predecessor had laid eyes on Channon. Just like Quinn had been when Tristan and Avery locked gazes for the first time. Dessa’s silver mane streaked towards Quinn’s face and Quinn knotted her hands through it even more tightly as they hurtled onwards at breakneck pace.

  They reached the unicorn glade faster than Quinn had expected and Dessa slowed to a boisterous canter, tossing her head and stamping the ground, her delighted snorting interspersed with the heaving of her flanks. Quinn glanced around and took in her surroundings. They were skirting the edge of the riverbank opposite the waterfall where the main herd came to drink. That was Primera’s land and only his herd could gather there. Dessa’s smaller herd, and others like them, were relegated to the opposite side of the river, drinking from the smaller tributaries that ran through the glade. Dessa had once reigned beneath the shadow of the waterfall, before her infertility, when she had held pride of place at Primera’s side.

  Quinn dismounted, stroking Dessa’s thick neck and feeling the muscle rippling beneath her hand. Dessa’s head came up, suddenly, and her nostrils flared as her big black eyes fixed on something in the distance. Quinn watched as Primera emerged from behind a rocky outcrop on the opposite bank, proud and majestic, his spiralled horn dazzling against the darkening night. Dessa’s tail twitched and she let out a low mournful whinny.

  “You and me both, girl,” Quinn soothed,
pulling at her ear as she dropped her head onto Quinn’s shoulder.

  But Quinn was being offered a second chance at happiness. Tristan had admitted that he might have made a mistake choosing Avery, and, while Quinn should be angry on her sister’s behalf, his admission had instead made her feel warm and desirable. He had not said it without contrition, in fact, Quinn suspected that his guilt was eating him alive and, above all, she didn’t want him to feel that way.

  “Avery would’ve wanted us to be happy,” she murmured into Dessa’s neck, echoing the same words Tristan had uttered just a few weeks ago. Had he known then that this might happen? Did he already have feelings for her? Had his conscience already plagued him so that, in a fit of despair, he had consoled himself with those very words?

  Quinn watched the opposite bank as, one by one, the main herd emerged behind Primera, white statues in the dying light. Zinnia appeared last, her coat so dazzling it looked pure silver. Dessa gave another low, mournful whinny and, even across the distance between them, Quinn saw Zinnia’s head jerk up at the sound and then her front legs reared up, kicking out at the air before her, as she tossed her head haughtily. Beside Quinn, Dessa’s ears flattened against her head and her body trembled with hostility.

  “Easy, girl,” Quinn soothed, figuring it was probably time to go. Grabbing hold of Dessa’s mane, Quinn pulled herself up, and with the gentlest squeeze of her thighs, the receptive mare broke once again into a gallop, the ground flying beneath them in a blur.

  Windswept and flushed, Quinn dropped to the ground, crushing cornflowers under her boots. Thanking Dessa with a final tug of her white ears, Quinn patted the mare’s rump and Dessa trotted off, her tail swishing behind her. Quinn’s mind refused to shut down and so, instead of heading home, she made her way across town and back to the fountain, crossing the Gateway into the Cathedral. The second she felt the cool, draughty air of the Cathedral, she turned and walked past the council table, deliberately not looking at it. Passing the infirmary, where Channon was probably asleep, with Rafe watching over her, she proceeded right to the back of the Cathedral, entering a dark narrow tunnel. Making her way through a labyrinth of twists and turns, she finally reached the training-room, the place where she had learned how to fight vampires.