The Cathedral of Cliffdale (19 page)

Chapter 29

Quinn reached Brookfield the following afternoon, and, after letting herself in, she headed straight upstairs to crash on her bed, physically and emotionally exhausted. It seemed as if she had only just closed her eyes when she woke with a start, and a cold hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream.

“It’s me,” Drake murmured in the darkness and Quinn stopped struggling. She could just make him out, sitting on the edge of her bed, silhouetted against the pale moonlit curtains behind him. Quinn reached for her bedside lamp and switched it on, blinking as the warm light bathed the room.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she grumbled, sitting up and pulling the covers around her waist.

Drake eyed her T-shirt with mild curiosity, no doubt wondering why she had gone to bed fully clothed, then leaned over and calmly, and deliberately, pulled a long silver stake from her boot, which was lying beside the bed. Quinn stiffened, her heart-rate increasing. He had seen her stake back at his house, but there had been no time to discuss it. The leisurely way he was staring at this one indicated that they now they had all the time in the world.

“I think you and I need to have a little talk, Quinn.” He stood abruptly, making his way to her bedroom door, the stake still in his hand. “I’ll give you a few minutes to,” he paused, his eyes glinting, “freshen up.”

Quinn had no intention of doing anything while Drake was in the house and she followed him down the stairs. He did not turn back. Either he trusted her not to attack him from behind, or he was confident that she would not be successful if she tried. Neither thought was particularly comforting.

They sat in the living-room. Quinn slumped onto the cream sofa and, to her surprise, Drake took a seat right beside her. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke a word.

“Those people that were after us... you managed to lead them away?” he asked eventually, breaking the silence.

“Yes, for now, but they may come back. Why didn’t you leave town?” she added. Her instructions had been clear enough.

“This is my home,” he replied simply, but she noticed the emphasis on the ‘my’. He obviously felt he had more right to be here in Brookfield than she did. Quinn didn’t dare ask about Genevieve – she preferred not to remind him about their last encounter – but she felt a cold dread settling over her. If Drake was still here, it stood to reason that Genevieve would be too.

“Where have you been?”

“Trying to find my niece and nephew,” she replied, dead-pan. She was acutely aware that he still held her silver stake. Slightly heavier and more cumbersome than a wooden one, it required more force to drive it through a vampire’s heart, but it was less likely to break, and more effective if used correctly.

“And I take it, from the empty bedroom upstairs, that you were unsuccessful?” Quinn nodded, her sense of unease growing. Irked by her silence, he sighed dramatically.

“Is there something you would like to tell me?”

She shook her head.

“I’ll go first then, shall I? I’d like you to tell me how you managed to best Genevieve in that struggle,” he prompted, and Quinn felt a small surge of persuasion flow through her. She was impervious, of course, but he knew that. She suspected it was more out of habit than a genuine attempt to try and manipulate her.

“I told you – I got lucky. I know what you both are, and I carry those,” she gestured casually at the stake he was holding, “just in case. I’m not an idiot – I know that not all vampires are as nice as my friend Jude. I prefer to be prepared.”

“So you walk around with stakes tucked into your boots?”

“Yes,” she was resolute. Drake leaned back against the cushion of the sofa, facing the stairs, so Quinn could see only his left profile.

“Do you know what I think, Quinn,” he mused lightly, as he fingered the point of her stake, twisting it around in his hand. A drop of blood appeared on his finger. “I think that you defeated Genevieve because you have been trained to fight vampires. I think it is your very purpose.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she retorted. “Have you ever heard of a vampire-defence program? I must have missed that class at college.”

“Actually, I have,” he replied coolly, ignoring her sarcasm. “And I think you have too.”

“I have no time for your riddles, Drake.”

“Well then, let me make my point.” He turned to face her, leaning in closer, and she froze at the heat in his gaze. His eyes seemed to look right through her as he handed her back her stake. Quinn took it with a trembling hand. “I believe that there is a place where people are taught to fight vampires. Taught to hunt and kill them. I believe that you know the place I am referring to, because you have been there – trained there. I believe that this is the reason I cannot manipulate you. Yes, Quinn,” he smiled evilly, as her eyes widened in dismay and dread, “I know about Summerfeld. So tell me,” he added, his hand closing over her own, keeping her stake pressed into her lap. The point dug painfully into her thigh, but she refused to show her discomfort as he continued, “how long have you been a Guardian?”

All the air seemed to drain from Quinn’s body as his words registered. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would contradict him, so instead, she jerked free of his grasp, her hand clutched around her stake and fled in the direction of the back door. Drake grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms at her sides. Quinn’s training kicked in and she twisted her body, at the same time crouching down so that his grip on her eased, and then she swept out her leg, connecting with his legs and unbalancing him.

Drake crashed to the ground and Quinn leaped onto his chest, holding her stake in both hands, just over his heart.

“Do it,” he whispered, his hypnotic green eyes daring her. Quinn’s breathing was laboured; fear and fury setting her adrenalin pumping and she gripped the stake more tightly in her sweat-dampened hands. The pointed edge pressed down harder on his chest and a small flower of blood appeared through his shirt. “Do it,” he repeated, malevolently. Quinn could feel her face growing red as she waged a battle in her mind. Drake lay perfectly still beneath her, not even attempting to struggle and, as she faltered, his mouth turned up in a spiteful smirk.

Realising she could not bring herself to kill him she tossed the stake aside and, in one swift movement, got to her feet. Drake did the same and the two regarded each other hostilely in the dimly-lit room.

“Please leave,” Quinn whispered. “If you mean to kill me then do it, but if not, I
beg
of you – please leave.” Drake made a small movement towards her and then halted abruptly.

“We cannot coexist like this, Quinn. You should leave Brookfield.”

“I will leave when I am ready.” She set her jaw defiantly.

“I do not want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t.” The words resonated around the room, louder than she had intended. Shaken, she continued, “I will leave you alone. I will not betray your secret. And soon enough I will be gone from this place, never to return. All I ask is that you do the same – leave me be and let me finish what I need to do.”

“How long?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“How do I know I can trust you? You are a Guardian of Summerfeld; I am a vampire. You know the threat I pose, now that I know your secret.”

“Do you seek the City?” she asked, already doubting her decision to let him live.

“No.” The words rang with truth.

“Then please, Drake. Just go.”

She didn’t think for a second that he would, but she was mistaken. He left her then, a gentle breeze lifting her hair from her face as he passed. Quinn lowered herself to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest and covering her face with her hands. She had betrayed them. She had betrayed the Guardians, the City and all the surviving wards that she was sworn to protect. She had allowed a vampire who knew her secret to live, endangering her crystal. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks and after a few moments became great, shuddering sobs that hurt her chest and wracked her whole body as she remembered Isaiah’s words and his promise that she would find her way.

Outside the house, under the cover of blackness, Drake listened. He didn’t like to hear her cry, it made him uncomfortable. Making his way around the front of the house, he leaned back against the cold bricks, resuming his solitary vigil over her house. He had been here since she got back – watching over her – until the temptation had grown too great and he had woken her to confront her about the Guardians. He had known what she was as soon as he had watched her fight. Genevieve had not yet pieced it together, but she hated Quinn for besting her and would not be dissuaded – she was intent on killing the girl. His fangs extended in his mouth as the thought of Quinn’s Guardian blood made him heady, but he fought the sudden overwhelming urge to go back inside and drink his fill. The effort of resisting caused him physical pain and he considered leaving, but he could not think of any other way to keep her safe. And so he waited and watched, and tried to block out the sounds of her tears.

Chapter 30

The morning after Quinn’s return, Annie arrived. With everything that had happened Quinn had completely forgotten that it was cleaning day, and her arrival put paid to Quinn’s idea of spending the morning working in her secret room. She was too restless to sit idly by while Annie scrubbed and cleaned, so she went for a run to clear her head and then took a slow drive to the store. Neither of these activities served their purpose of taking her mind off the previous evening’s events. Quinn could scarcely believe she had let Drake walk out of her house now that he knew her secret. A vampire, a sworn mortal enemy of Summerfeld knowing her identity was incomprehensible. He could bring an army down on her at any moment, and worse, he could find her crystal. Perhaps she should move it somewhere safe – somewhere far from the house in Brookfield. Somewhere that no-one but her successor would ever think to look.

And yet, Drake had let her live too. He had had the opportunity to kill her, had been in her bedroom while she slept and he had not acted. She clung to that fact as proof she would be safe.

By the time she returned, Annie had left and the small house was spotless. Quinn dropped her keys on the small shelf beside the front door and carried her parcels through to the kitchen. It took only a few minutes to unpack, then she headed for the secret room, settling down at her desk. She withdrew Avery’s letter from the drawer.

You will find it in the heart of my own.

But what did it mean? She had always thought that it had something to do with Tristan. Think, Quinn, think! Deciding to reverse the roles, Quinn tried to determine what she would do with her own crystal if she suspected trouble. I would give it to Avery, the thought came quickly.

“Oh!” Quinn breathed. Maybe she had been going about this all wrong. She and Avery had been twins – they had been closer than any two people could be. Quinn had always thought of herself and Avery as being two parts of the same whole – was it possible that Avery had thought the same. What if she had loved Quinn more than she had loved Tristan? And if she had – she would have hidden the crystal somewhere she knew that only Quinn could find it, if her successor didn’t.

Energised by this new idea, Quinn scrambled to her feet, crossing the room and pulling an album from a pile in the corner. She flipped past the pages of Avery and herself as children, only stopping when she reached page 32. She traced the lines of a photograph taken at their first and only home together. They had only lived there for a few short months, but in those months, everything had been perfect. They had had high hopes and dreams and an uncertain future that thrilled and excited them. They had never been happier than when they had been released from Summerfeld on their 21st birthdays, ready to start their own lives.  

Quinn stared at the small cottage behind them in the photograph. They had found it through the local paper – an elderly couple had converted an unused garage into a small flatlet and rented it out for additional income without the faintest clue as to what market prices were. Quinn and Avery had gotten it for a steal. Could Avery have hidden the crystal there? Without any other leads Quinn figured there was only one way to find out.

Idly she flipped through the album, each image evoking memories of when the pictures had been captured. Avery and Quinn had not had long together in the human world before their Guardian tattoos had appeared. Two Guardians had been trapped by a coven of vampires and they had been killed. Twenty-four hours later, Quinn and Avery had both woken in the middle of the night crying out in pain as their wrists burned with the magical branding. Quinn could scarcely believe their bad luck, but dutifully the sisters had reported to Cliffdale to be inducted into the Guardianship. At some point during the course of her training, her attitude had shifted, and a fierce allegiance to the inhabitants of Summerfeld had consumed her. Quinn was a damn fine Guardian – one of the best – and she had dedicated her life to protecting the creatures she loved. Until Avery’s death she had never once faltered in her path.

Sighing, she set the album back on the pile and got wearily to her feet. The cottage was almost a week’s drive from here; she had better start packing. Walking past the living-room on her way to the stairs, a shadow fell across the partially-drawn curtain and Quinn tensed. Moving towards the window, she peered out of it, but could not see anyone. There was no need to draw her stake in the middle of the day – whoever was outside of her house was no vampire – but she still felt a trickle of apprehension down her spine. On high alert for danger, she made her way to the front door and peered through the peephole. The figures she saw standing on the other side of her door shocked and terrified her.

“Tristan, Rafe!” she quickly opened the door and ushered them inside. “What are you both doing here? And what are you doing out of Summerfeld?” she turned on the werewolf. “You know it’s not safe for you to be out of the City’s protective wards? Tell me you didn’t bring him out,” she added, whirling on Tristan. The inhabitants of Summerfeld could not leave the City without a Guardian to open the Gateway, and, since the City’s creation, no ward had ever left its enchanted protection.

“Isaiah,” Rafe reassured her. “He got me out and then Tristan brought me here. Isaiah said if I had to leave it was better that I remain with a Guardian.” Isaiah had not mentioned that it was actually’s Freya’s idea to send Rafe to Quinn, in the hope that by keeping him safe she would be inclined to remember her loyalty to Summerfeld.

“I can’t protect you out here,” Quinn berated, “not on my own!” The fact that she still had to find Avery’s crystal and Rafe would hinder her progress was nothing compared to her fear that something might happen to him.

“Isaiah sent me to help,” Tristan explained.

“What? No way...
you
can’t stay here!”

“Believe me, Quinn, I tried to talk them out of it. There was no other solution.”

Tristan had known full well that Quinn would not agree with the plan that Isaiah and Daniel had proposed, but it was not for him to question it. Even so, he had asked that they allow him to take care of Rafe alone, but his request had been denied. Quinn did not doubt Tristan’s sincerity but she felt angry anyway. The Guardians knew that she could not bring herself to turn Rafe away, not when it meant leaving him at the mercy of the vampires who hunted his kind. Isaiah and Daniel were using this as yet another opportunity to draw her back to her duty.

“I cannot go back to Summerfeld.” Rafe’s resigned acceptance was soul-destroying. “As long as I am there it will only fuel Caleb’s anger, and sooner or later someone is going to get hurt.”

“What about Channon?” Quinn asked.

“Channon is where she should be.” His tone indicated that he did not want to discuss it and Tristan shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, he couldn’t help but cast a furtive glance around Quinn’s neat home, the place where she now spent her time. The absence of personal belongings tugged at his heart in a way that made him feel both pity and the burden of responsibility.

“Channon will not stay in Summerfeld without you,” Quinn pointed out, casting a quizzical glance at Tristan. His interest in his surroundings had not escaped her.

“She cannot leave without a Guardian’s help.” The note of finality in Rafe’s voice was impossible to miss. The truth was that, without a Guardian to take her through the gateway, Channon was trapped within the City’s magical boundaries, although if Quinn knew Channon it wasn’t going to be quite as simple as that.

“If you think that Channon will...”

“This is not Channon’s decision!” Rafe roared, losing his fragile grip over his emotions. “She has forgotten her place. Pack law dictates that the new Alpha chooses his mate. Caleb has chosen Channon. She belongs to him now.”

“She doesn’t
belong
to anyone!” Quinn protested vehemently, “She’s a grown woman, not a possession.”

“Quinn,” Tristan rebuked gently as Rafe squared his shoulders to retort. “We are simply the protectors; we have no right to interfere with pack law.” It was not his words that silenced Quinn, but the defeated look on Rafe’s face. He was suffering, far more than he was prepared to let on and Tristan was right. Quinn might not understand the laws that govern the inhabitants of the City, but it was not her place to question them.

“I’m sorry,” she conceded, meeting Rafe’s gaze and he nodded, resigned. “Of course you are welcome to stay here, at least until we can find somewhere more suitable.” Some place that doesn’t involve two vampires living just up the street, Quinn thought wildly.

“Thank you.”

“You’ll find the spare room upstairs, please make yourself at home.” Without a word, he climbed the stairs, with the lithe agility that characterised the wolves, leaving Tristan and Quinn facing off in the centre of the living-room.

“Where should I...” Tristan began, but Quinn cut him off.

“You can’t stay here.”

“Quinn,” he paused, sounding weary, “I don’t think we have a choice. Besides, I can be of use to you. You want to find Avery’s crystal, right?”

“You know I do,” Quinn sneered.

“Well, it’s not like you can do that and keep an eye on Rafe at the same time. I can help.” He was right, again, of course. Finding Avery’s crystal would hardly be an easy feat, yet leaving Rafe unattended was incomprehensible. Quinn’s safe haven was rapidly becoming an extension of Summerfeld – teeming with Guardians, and now a member of the City. Desperately, she tried, and failed to come up with a better solution.

“Fine,” she snapped, after a pregnant pause. “You can share the spare room with Rafe. There are twin beds,” she added spitefully, making reference to the children he seemed to have forgotten.