Copyright © 2015 Melissa Delport

The text of this publication, or any part thereof, may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder.

The Author/Publisher has made every effort to trace and acknowledge sources/resources/individuals. In the event that any images/information have been incorrectly attributed or credited, the Author/Publisher will be pleased to rectify these omissions at the earliest opportunity.

Edited by Cathy Eberle of Wordweavers

Cover designed by Wendy Bow of Apple Pie Graphics

Website: www.melissadelport.com

For my babies, who I hope will one day believe in magic

Table Of Contents

Copyright

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Book 2: The Fight of The Fallen

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Book 3: The Hope of Hawkstone

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Book 4: The Balance of the Blood

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

About The Author

A Note from the Author

Acknowledgements

While this book is not my first foray into the world of speculative fiction, it is the first fantasy novel I have embarked upon and I found it to be the most liberating piece of writing I have done to date. Creating the world of Summerfeld allowed me to stretch my imagination further than ever before and I loved every single second of it. Of course, there are many people who must be thanked for their invaluable input during the course of writing this book.

As always, I must thank my beautiful family: My husband, Murray, whose support has never wavered, and my three gorgeous children who inspire me every single day.

My dearest friend, Wendy Bow, who is my ‘person’ and has been with me every step of the way, through every book I have written. No-one has done more for me as a writer than you have and I honestly don’t think I could have done any of this without your support, your guidance and your brutal honesty!

My wacky, crazy neighbour, Fiona McCarthy, beta-reader extraordinaire, who can spot errors despite reading at the speed of light and who loved my books before she loved me. I am so glad we met and so grateful that you believe in me.

Norma Neill, who has known me most of my life yet still takes me seriously as an author, for that final proof-read, and stepping out of your “reading” comfort zone to polish my final manuscript, thank you so much.

My amazing editor, Catherine Eberle; your words of encouragement are more validating than you will ever know. I am so grateful that I found you, four books ago, and I look forward to working with you for a long time to come.

A massive thank you to my writer’s group, The Scribe Tribe, and, in particular, Ian Tennent & Helga Pearson, who were honest enough to point out my flaws and are making me a better writer for it. Ian, your insight and constructive critique has truly made me grow in ways I could never have imagined. You are a great teacher and a true friend.

And of course, to everyone who has read my books; without you I wouldn’t be able to do this. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart!

Chapter 1

“And then the little man fell through the hole in the ground and was never seen again.”

Quinn Harden closed the storybook with a snap and the children jumped. “Time for bed, you two,” she smiled, setting the book down on the bedside table.

“One more, please Aunty Quinn,” Jack begged, his blue eyes wide.

“The one about the fairies!” Ava added, stifling a yawn.

“And then you’ll go to sleep?” Quinn raised her brows.

“Promise,” the twins replied in unison. They were masters of negotiation, their intelligence and competence far beyond their two years. It was so with all descendents of the original Guardians, no doubt a result of the miniscule traces of Fae blood that ran through their veins. Jack and Ava were, however, blissfully unaware that some of the stories Quinn told them were true.

She cleared her throat, waiting for them to settle back on their pillows before she began, reciting the words by heart, as she recalled the stories that Kellan used to tell her as a child.

“There was a time when all of the mystical creatures read about in fairy tales roamed the Earth freely and lived among men; when dragons shared the sky with birds of prey and giants claimed the mountains as their home.” Quinn stopped, a soft smile crossing her face. The children were asleep. She allowed herself the luxury of watching them for a while, as the memory of Kellan’s voice washed over her, from a night many years ago.

There was a time when all of the mystical creatures read about in fairy tales roamed the Earth freely and lived among men; when dragons shared the sky with birds of prey and giants claimed the mountains as their home. Faeries, merfolk, werewolves and vampires, among the many supernatural beings, were as much a part of civilisation as man was. Protected by the enchantments placed upon them by the Fae they were seldom seen, but those of purest heart, who would do them no harm, were granted glimpses of their magnificence.

Reaching over, Quinn switched off the nightlight, dropping a kiss on Jack and Ava’s foreheads before making her way quietly out of their bedroom. The children would never know that the story she’d started did not have a happy ending. The creatures she spoke of had filled the world with beauty and magic, until a xenophobic holocaust ignited by a mad king extinguished their light over a thousand years ago. Over time, their absence resulted in their existence becoming fabled, warped into legend and myth and shrouded in allegory. And yet, exist they did. And to this day, some still do. Only twelve people know this - only ever twelve, whose sole objective is to ensure the safety of those precious few who remain. These twelve are known as the Guardians, fierce protectors of Summerfeld – the City that shelters the last surviving supernatural beings.

With only her dark thoughts for company, Quinn went downstairs to clean up the whirlwind that was dinner time with two young, energetic toddlers. She couldn’t quite figure out how the peas had made it halfway under the refrigerator, but knowing how Ava loathed them she suspected foul play. The twins were crafty.

Quinn clung to the menial task, trying to stem the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. As she reached under the refrigerator, scooping up peas, she caught sight of the ornate, white tattoo that branded her wrist, and, like a floodgate, the memories forced their way through her weary defences.

Kellan’s stories had been happy, much like the ones she told Jack and Ava, but Isaiah had spoken only the truth. Quinn had been twenty-one the first time she heard the legend. Her sister, Avery, had sat beside her at the council table, the girls eager for their first lesson. It had been nearly a thousand years since the Blood War, named for the sheer amount of magical blood that had been spilled, but now that they had been branded as Guardians, Quinn and Avery were to learn the truth; that in secret, unbeknown to their human counterparts, the war still waged, and the hunt for Summerfeld continued.

“In order to understand our purpose, you need to fully understand our history,” Isaiah explained. “I must warn you, however, that the story is one of tragedy, and destruction.”

“Tell us,” Avery insisted, leaning forward in her chair. The Sacred Book was open before him, but Isaiah didn’t look at it as he began to speak.

“When Enah, princess of the Fae, fell in love with Julian, the Vampire prince, she used her magic to bestow upon him the forbidden gift of sun-walking. Imparting Faery magic to any other supernatural being or creature was punishable by death.”

“Why?” Quinn asked, interrupting, and Avery scowled at her. “What?” Quinn shrugged. “It’s a logical question. Why was it so bad?”

“Fae magic was too powerful to be wielded by any other species,” Isaiah explained patiently, “and King Eldon feared that if any of the others learned that they could use it, they might turn on the Fae and try to take it for themselves. The Taboo was their most sacred law.” Quinn nodded that she understood and Isaiah continued, “In breaking it, Enah had betrayed her own kind, but more than that, she started a feud that would span centuries. Her father, King Eldon, couldn’t bring himself to take her life, so he hunted down the abomination she had created instead. He killed Julian.”

Isaiah heard Avery’s gasp of astonishment, but to his surprise, Quinn looked satisfied. The Guardian women were always more disturbed by this revelation than their male counterparts. Patiently, he waited for their questions, but again they surprised him and remained silent. Isaiah proceeded.

“Julian’s father, King Aleksei, declared war on the Fae. The werewolves were only too happy to unite with the Faeries, and all the other legendary creatures, reliant on the Fae magic, sided with them too – their alliance strengthened in the crucible of war.”

“So, if everyone sided with King Eldon, why is the war still waging?” Avery asked. “Surely all of those creatures could easily have overthrown the vampires?”

“Sadly not,” Isaiah sighed. “If that had been the case, we wouldn’t be here,” he remarked wryly. “King Eldon grossly underestimated the physical power of the vampires. King Aleksei wreaked his furious vengeance on all who stood between him and the Fae. Through his connection to all living creatures, King Eldon suffered terribly as one species after another was slaughtered to extinction. The Pegasus and the Phoenix did not survive the Blood War and the numbers of the ten species that remained were reduced dramatically. King Eldon’s hatred of the vampires grew with every death at their foul hands, manifesting in his evolution – and he became the first Slayer, a lethal, merciless vampire-hunter, whose very blood could kill them...”

Quinn jerked back to her small, humble kitchen as though she had been doused with ice-cold water. She could have sworn she had heard something upstairs. Dropping her cloth, she raced up the stairs to check on the children. Jack and Ava were still sound asleep in their bed, Ava’s pyjama top pulled up, exposing her rounded belly. Her chubby, cream-clad legs were thrown over her brother’s stomach, and clutched tightly in her hands was Beebee – a pale pink teddy bear with a floppy hat that she had loved since birth. She never went anywhere without it. Smiling, Quinn pulled down Ava’s shirt and shifted her over, covering her up again with her blankets. Jack immediately rolled towards his sister, his curly dark hair falling over his eyes as he reached for her in his sleep. Ava was Jack’s comforter. Ava had Beebee... and Jack had Ava. Quinn watched them fondly for a few more minutes, a rapt expression on her strikingly beautiful face, and then left the room, shutting the door behind her. The twins didn’t stir.

As she pulled their door closed, Quinn’s senses heightened, jerking her from her moment of content. She hesitated, sensing that someone else was in the house. Moving silently down the stairs, she slowly pulled open a dresser drawer and extracted a long ornamental wooden stake. It was the only weapon within reach, although probably not the most suitable. The intruder was not a vampire – none had been invited in – but that didn’t change the fact that someone had broken into her house at this time of night. It didn’t bode well, either way.

Stepping quickly around the corner, Quinn raised the stake to shoulder height and jabbed it forward. It stopped less than an inch from the intruder’s right eye. Unperturbed, he lifted a hand and placed it over hers, lowering her arm.

“Hello Quinn,” her father murmured, his striking tanzanite eyes a mirror of her own, the perfect blend of violet and the deepest blue.

“What are you doing here, Braddon?” She always called him by his name, never ‘dad’ or ‘father.’ Not since she was a child.

“It’s time for you to return,” his eyes held hers and a million arguments died on her lips. “You have a duty to fulfil, and you have indulged yourself far too long already.”

“Indulged myself?” Quinn snapped, her anger back in an instant. “I have a life, Braddon! I have two children who need me!” He ignored her.

“You must return - the Guardians need you.”

“The Guardians can go to hell.”

“Quinn,” his voice was harsher, his eyes flashing angrily. “The Gateway needs to be protected. You know what is at stake.”

“The City is safe,” Quinn sighed, “Eldon wove his magic well.” The enchantments placed upon the City ensured that neither man nor vampire could find it, let alone enter.

Braddon didn’t acknowledge her words. “We cannot risk it! Enchantments can be broken, Avery’s death is proof of that. We are more vulnerable than ever before. It has been two years and we have yet to find your sister’s replacement.”

The mention of her twin sister, Avery, only fuelled Quinn’s anger. Avery had been a Guardian too, like their father. Like Quinn herself. Avery’s identity had been discovered by a vampire assassin. Since her death two years ago, no new Guardian had been marked and for the first time in Summerfeld’s history, only eleven remained.

“Has it occurred to you that Avery’s replacement hasn’t come forward for good reason?” Quinn sneered. “That maybe this person would prefer a normal life, without the burden of the Guardianship?”

“It is an honour to protect the last, Quinn. Duty is something no true Guardian would seek to avoid.” His words smacked of implied accusation.

“Well then, perhaps this one got lost? Perhaps the replacement Guardian is backpacking through Europe and didn’t get the memo?” Braddon shook his head at the blatant sarcasm in her voice.

“You know as well as I, that a newly marked Guardian will always find his or her way to Cliffdale.”

This was true; the moment that the white mark burned into a Guardian’s wrist the newcomer's instincts led him or her to Cliffdale, to be inducted into the Guardianship. Eldon’s Guardian charm ensured it. When he realised that he could not win the Blood War, King Eldon had called upon twelve humans to protect the magical realm, and imbued each of them with a trace amount of blood from each of the ten remaining supernatural species –forging a blood allegiance. These twelve humans became the Guardians of Summerfeld and were marked as such – an ornate, white, S-shaped tattoo was branded on their left wrists. They guarded the Gateway, a magical portal between worlds, and ensured that neither King Aleksei, nor his descendants, could find the City. No-one but a Guardian could pass freely through the Gateway, and no creature could ever leave until the day that every last vampire had been destroyed.

The Guardians do not age but that does not mean they cannot die. Vampires have been hunting them for a millennium, armed with the knowledge that only through them can they enter the City of Summerfeld and finish their quest to destroy the last remaining supernaturals. With the knowledge that the vampires could never be allowed to access the City, if discovered, a Guardian would take his or her own life. It was a pledge of honour. When one Guardian died, another was inevitably marked, always a descendant of the original twelve. Indiscernible from ordinary people, tracking a Guardian was no easy feat for the vampires, but every now and then they succeeded and a new Guardian would take the place of the fallen.

“How can you ignore the severity of this situation?” Braddon persisted wearily, “You are being petulant.”

“I am protecting Avery’s children!” Quinn had lost all patience with her father. “Your grandchildren!” The comment seemed absurd, considering how youthful Braddon appeared. He had become a Guardian at the age of twenty-seven, Quinn and Avery just before their twenty-second birthdays. Braddon looked only a few years older than she did, although in reality he was over two hundred years her senior.

“Jack and Ava will be taken care of; we will make sure of that. They may well be marked in time to come. Do you really think we would leave them unprotected, considering how valuable they are?”

“They are children, not possessions! They deserve to be loved – as Avery would have loved them. As Tristan should have!”

“You are letting your feelings for Tristan get in the way of your reasoning.” Quinn curled her lip at the undeserved barb. She may have loved Tristan first, but to imply that he meant anything to her after what he had done was ridiculous. When Tristan Ormonde had become a Guardian, it had been Quinn who had trained him, Quinn who had shared the Guardians secrets and helped him adapt to his new way of life. Their relationship had blossomed, becoming intimate, and Quinn had truly believed she had finally found her soul mate, after being alone for a hundred years. That was until Avery returned from a journey north. She had accompanied Braddon on a search for the Phoenix – rumours abounded that the bird, long thought extinct, might have survived. Sadly the exploration had proved futile, and had kept Avery away far longer than Quinn would have liked. She was eager for the two most important people in her life to meet. The irony of her anticipation was not lost on her later.

In the instant that Tristan and Avery laid eyes on each other, Quinn knew that Tristan would never look at her the way he did her sister. So she had done the honourable thing and stepped aside, never holding it against either of them - until her sister had died, just a few months after the birth of the twins. Tristan had already returned to Summerfeld to resume his Guardian duties and Quinn would never forgive him for not being there to protect her sister, the woman he supposedly loved more than life itself.

“I feel nothing for Tristan!” Quinn hissed. “He abandoned Avery – and his children!”

“Tristan understands the meaning of honour! He understands the magnitude of our duty and that some things are more important, even than family.”

“Tristan is still captivated by the novelty of his own importance. He has only been a Guardian for a few years. His enthusiasm will wear off, trust me. This job is eternal.”

“That is not true, Quinn. You know the prophecy. When the balance is restored the war will end.”

“Don’t quote the book at me, Braddon, I know it far better than you do.” The Sacred Book, studied by all Guardians as part of their training, contained both history and prophecy. “The balance will never be restored!”

King Eldon had chronicled that the war between the Fae and the vampires would end when the balance was restored. The Guardians understood this to mean that the number of vampires in existence needed to be reduced to that of the inhabitants of Summerfeld – a literal balance between good and evil - but the vampires’ ability to multiply made it an impossible task.

”It has been written,” Braddon replied with absolute certainty, irking her with his steadfast belief. She had believed once, too, but over the past two years she had withdrawn, pulling away from the Guardianship for the sake of her niece and nephew.

“That book says a lot of things, most of which have never happened. I think old Eldon may have been a bit mental.”

“That’s sacrilege, Quinn! Do not forget your teachings; do not doubt your beliefs. I have been protecting Summerfeld for three hundred years. My allegiance has never faltered.”

“You don’t need to remind me. I remember,” Quinn’s own tanzanite eyes were flashing now. “You dumped me and Avery the very first chance you got.”

Braddon Harden had loved his human wife, but had fulfilled his duty and returned to the Guardians immediately after his daughters were born, visiting them only occasionally. Their mother had loved and cared for them, but she had fallen ill when they were very young and died shortly thereafter. The girls had been removed from their home to be raised within the City itself. Their basic needs were met, but never again did they experience the love and affection that they had known from their mother in the human world. Without Avery, Quinn doubted she would have survived her lonely childhood. This was the main reason she had wanted to raise Jack and Ava herself, in the real world, so that they could experience a normal, happy childhood, without secrets, being raised by someone who loved them as much as their mother had.

On their twenty-first birthdays, Quinn and Avery were allowed back into the realm of man to start a life of their own – although they would always be watched over. Under no real threat from the vampires as ‘innocents’, the Guardians preferred to keep tabs on all descendants of the twelve Guardian families. Most were raised by their human mothers and were unaware of Summerfeld’s existence, but every so often, if an heir of a Guardian was orphaned before reaching adulthood, the child would be raised within the City itself. Quinn had been nothing short of delighted to escape the confines of the City and live a life of her choosing. She had soothed Avery’s fears of the unknown and promised her a life filled with fun and adventure. Avery had been loath to leave Summerfeld and Quinn had wondered if Avery’s Guardian instincts were naturally stronger than her own.

In a sick twist of fate, two of Braddon’s Guardian friends had been discovered by the vampires and had taken their own lives to defend Summerfeld less than a year after the girls left the City. Quinn and Avery’s marks had burned onto their wrists in a flash of pain, the white S-shaped tattoo that they had always feared – seeing it as a symbol of a family divided. Nevertheless, the calling was too great and the girls reported to Cliffdale where they were trained as Guardians – the newest protectors of the magical realm. Conversely, it was Quinn who then championed their cause. Determined to be the best Guardian possible, she trained harder than any other before her and swore her allegiance without hesitation. She led... and Avery followed. Over time, their fierce devotion and astounding skills earned them even the grudging respect of their own father. And then Avery had died and Quinn’s sole focus had no longer concerned the protection of others – it became the protection of her own blood – Avery’s children.

“This is how it works, Quinn,” Braddon continued, bringing Quinn back to the present. “You have been a Guardian for a long time – you have seen it, over and over. The children will be protected – they will want for nothing.”

“They will want for a lot of things. I know that better than anyone. I have been defending the Gateway for almost a century. All I ask is a few more years’ grace, to allow Jack and Ava to grow up in this world – their world. When they come of age, I will return.”

“That is out of the question. Daniel himself sent me to get you.”

A resounding silence followed these words. Daniel was one of only two original Guardians. Two alone had survived the last one thousand years and had never been replaced on the Guardian council. Daniel and Isaiah were legendary. Satisfied that he had her attention, Braddon continued. “There has never been discord amongst the Guardians – not in one thousand years – not until now. We lead by example and your actions will result in doubt. Where there is doubt, there is fragility. Without your sister’s successor we are even more vulnerable.”

“I’m only asking for a few years,” Quinn repeated, but Braddon shook his head.

“You have had two. Unfortunately, we can grant you no more time.”

“I will take as much time as I want. You can go back and tell Daniel that you asked but I am not coming back.” Instead of anger, something akin to empathy shone in her father’s eyes.

“You misunderstand me, Quinn. I didn’t come here to ask you. I came here to fetch you.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in but when they did Quinn gave a gasp of shocked understanding. Racing for the stairs, she took them two at a time. Skidding to a halt at the door to the children’s room, she let out a wail of despair and heartbreak. The unmade beds were the least of her worries. Jack and Ava were gone.

Chapter 2

“Where are they?” Returning to the living-room, Quinn snarled her question.

“I cannot tell you that.”

“Summerfeld,” she curled her lip, “they’re in Summerfeld. I’m going to fetch them,” she turned towards the front door.

“The children are not in the City,” Braddon corrected, halting her in her tracks. “Daniel forbade it. They will not be returned to Summerfeld until you have realised the error of your ways and come back to the Guardians.”

“Please,” for the first time, Quinn appealed to her father, not as a Guardian, but as a parent. “Please, give them back. I have served Summerfeld for a hundred years and I will serve it for a thousand more – when the twins are grown. It’s not too much to ask, surely, for an eternity of loyalty. Please,” her violet-blue eyes were wide and sincere, and glistening with tears she refused to shed. “I am begging you.” The reply was nothing less than she expected, but it still cut her to the core.

“You will report to Summerfeld in the morning to resume your duties Quinn.” The words echoed tonelessly around the small living-room and, with that, he left her.

Quinn wasted no time. The second her father left the house she streaked up the stairs, threw open her closet and pulled down the black duffel bag that she kept packed for emergencies. Retrieving a slim black cell phone from her bedside drawer, she threw it on top. She had kept one bag packed for each of the children too but she wouldn’t need them now. If only she’d had more warning, if her father had given her time to consider – she would have fled with the children. Cursing her naiveté she pulled a different phone from her pocket – her official Guardian contact phone. Dropping it, Quinn smashed the offending device under the heel of her boot. They would have no contact with her from now on and, without the phone, they could not track her. She would not return and have her niece and nephew raised the way that she and Avery had been - they deserved better. She would find them, get them back and take them where no Guardian would ever find them. She had been foolish to let the Guardians know where she was all this time, but she had thought it best if Tristan was allowed to visit so that Jack and Ava could know their father, despite what she might think of him. With one last longing look into the twins' bedroom, Quinn steeled herself and flew back down the stairs, snatching up her keys from the kitchen counter and racing out into the night.

Spending so much time in the realm of man had equipped Quinn in ways that the Guardians could not track. She had invested her mother’s inheritance wisely - in untraceable accounts and property. She had considered every possible scenario and had planned accordingly. She would find Jack and Ava, but first she had to get as far from here as possible – find somewhere safe where the Guardians could not find her and force her to return. She had mothered the twins for two years and had bonded with them as if they were her own children. She couldn’t abandon them now – she loved them too much.

Six hours later, Quinn drove into the town of Brookfield. It was a small, forgettable place in which she had purchased a quaint double-storey house less than a year ago. Arriving in the early hours of the morning, Quinn had nothing other than the duffel bag to carry as she wearily opened the door and flipped on the light switch.

The downstairs area consisted of a large airy hallway which opened up into a cosy living-room, and a spacious, open-plan kitchen. Upstairs were two bedrooms and a bathroom. The furniture was minimal, but brand new, and the kitchen was fully equipped. Quinn had employed a char, Alice, who had her own keys and came in once a week to clean. Although it had been almost a year since she had last seen her, there was no doubt that Alice was performing her duties well – every surface gleamed.

Dropping the duffel bag at the foot of the stairs in the hall, Quinn locked the front door and made her way to the kitchen. She drew the curtains and then opened the pantry door, punching a series of numbers into the electronic keypad on the wall. It looked much like any other alarm system, but when Alice had questioned her about arming it, Quinn had simply told her she didn’t use it. With an audible click, the panel on the opposite side of the pantry slid open to reveal a small, dark room. Flicking the light switch, Quinn regarded the contents of the room, a small, satisfied smile on her striking face. Nothing had been disturbed; the room was exactly as she had left it. She moved across to the small wooden desk in the centre, on top of which sat a black laptop, and reached underneath it to turn on the power. A green light appeared on the laptop. As she waited for it to boot up, she eyed the back wall directly opposite the hidden door. Most of the shelving held a variety of stakes, wooden and metal. There were also a few bottles of Cliffdale water and a compact crossbow, one of Quinn’s favourite weapons, but which was more suited to a Hunter than an ordinary Guardian, for use during tracking. Quinn couldn’t exactly walk around with it without drawing attention to herself. The water, blessed by the Fae at the Cliffdale Cathedral and the cross could not kill a vampire, but it could hurt them – particularly the younger ones - incapacitating them long enough to drive a stake through their heart, which is one of the only ways to kill a vampire, save for decapitation or leaving them out in the sun to burn. Unfortunately, the older the vampire, the more resilient they became to the water.

In the very centre of the shelves sat three wooden picture frames. A small amber crystal, no larger than Quinn’s hand, rested beside them. Quinn rounded the desk and touched the dusty glass of the first frame which contained a photograph of Avery the day Jack and Ava were born. Quinn had taken the photo herself and she remembered the way her sister had held the small bundles up to the camera, her face alive with excitement. She would have been an amazing mother if only she’d been given the chance. Lifting the frame, Quinn focused on her sister’s face, studiously avoiding looking at the twins. It was like gazing into a mirror – Avery was the spitting image of Quinn, tall and slim, with the same tanzanite eyes, but her rich brown hair was longer, falling past her shoulders. Quinn’s own straight hair was cut into an A-line bob, shorter at the back and longer at the front, falling only an inch below her jaw-line.

The second photograph was of Quinn and Avery five years before the twins were born. Tristan was with them, standing in the centre, his arm around Avery’s waist. The picture had been taken shortly after Tristan had completed his Guardian training – right after he had transferred his affections for Quinn to Avery. Quinn lifted the frame from the shelf and gazed at it, lost in thought. Avery was smiling at the camera, laughing at something Tristan had said. Tristan was gazing down at her fondly, his dark blond hair mussed up, as always. From the angle the photograph was taken you couldn’t see the colour of his eyes, but Quinn knew they were as clear blue as the midday sky. Quinn, standing slightly apart from the other two, was also looking at the camera, but there was a haunted look in her eyes. She remembered the day clearly - the celebration, the pain of watching the man she loved doting on her sister. Avery had not known the extent of Quinn’s feelings for Tristan, and Quinn could only assume that he had downplayed their relationship to spare Avery the guilt that she would no doubt have felt if she had known the truth. Quinn had never thought to enlighten her sister – Avery’s happiness meant more to her than her own, and besides, what good would it have done? Tristan had loved Avery much more than he ever had Quinn, so what was the point in trying to keep them apart? It was far better that the two of them were happy rather than all three being miserable.

Snapping herself back to the present, Quinn peered at the last photograph. She and Avery had been on a mission, away from the others for a whole week. One of the Guardian descendants had moved across country with his young children and they had lost track of his whereabouts. Quinn and Avery simply had to locate the family and report back. They had managed to do it in less time than Isaiah had allocated, but instead of returning, Avery had convinced Quinn to spend two nights in a small Bed and Breakfast, playing hooky. They needed a break, she lamented, and Quinn had reluctantly agreed. It was the last time they had ever strayed from their Guardian duties. During their absence, a Guardian had fallen. Quinn had never forgiven herself, and she suspected that Avery had felt the same.

Lost in her dark thoughts, Quinn studied the photograph.The owner of the Bed and Breakfast, entertained by the girls’ high spirits, had taken it one morning at breakfast and presented it to them when they left. Repressing the memory, Quinn focused on the pendant that hung around Avery’s neck in the photograph. She had seldom worn it – a small, circular aquamarine crystal. It had never been found after Avery’s death. The Guardians were still searching but, in two years, no headway had been made. The Guardians’ crystals were their most prized possessions. Each Guardian possessed a different stone, its location unknown to anyone else. If a Guardian was killed, his or her replacement would retrieve the crystal, instinct guiding them to its exact location, before reporting to Summerfeld. The Guardians protected their crystals with their lives and for good reason. If united, the crystals would open the Rose Gate, releasing Wintyr and the magic of the Fae from the temple, but it would also undo all of Eldon’s protective enchantments. The Gateway would be destroyed and Summerfeld would be exposed.

Leverage, Quinn thought to herself. If she could find the crystal, she could use it as leverage for the Guardians to return Jack and Ava. They wanted that crystal far more than they wanted her or the twins. Setting the photograph back in place, she moved back to the desk, taking a seat and using her password to unlock the laptop. She checked that she had internet access and then locked the screen, which showed that it was three in the morning. Pulling open the top drawer of her desk, she pulled out a folded note that had been addressed to her. It had been found in Avery’s house after her death. Quinn unfolded the paper and stared down at her sister’s elegant handwriting. The note contained only ten words - ten simple words - and yet, in two years, Quinn had come nowhere closer to deciphering them.

You will find it in the heart of my own.

She was sure it was a clue to finding the crystal; that Avery had left her some way to retrieve it and use it to barter for the children’s freedom. In the heart of my own, Quinn read the words again. Tristan. It had to have something to do with Tristan – Avery had loved him more than anything else.

Her exhaustion taking its toll, Quinn retreated through the hidden door, punched in the series of digits that locked it and made her way back to the hall. She headed up the stairs taking the black duffel bag with her. Passing the upstairs bathroom she went straight into the children’s room. Opening the closet, her throat constricted with the pain of their absence as she gazed at the rows of clothes. She had clothing for them and herself at each of her three safe-houses.

Dropping the duffel bag at her feet, too tired even to get undressed, Quinn fell across Jack’s bed, the tears finally winning and streaming down her face as she sobbed silently into the blue pillow.

Chapter 3

Quinn only woke after midday; her body and mind exhausted. Mindlessly she retrieved the duffel bag, stowing it in her closet and stepping across the landing to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, showered, dressed and feeling marginally better, she sat down on her bed to brush her hair. Her bedroom, like the rest of the house, was understated, but elegant, with lined, white curtains and pale, dove-grey walls. In the corner of the room sat an ornate 16th century chair painted silver, with black and silver patterned fabric cushions. Quinn pulled her boots over her skinny jeans and slotted a slim mahogany stake into the right boot, pushing it down until it wasn’t visible.

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,” Balthazar 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.

When Balthazar’s wife had died, Rowena had been surprisingly supportive, stepping in to help him with baby Jonas. It had been years before he had finally summoned the courage to act on his blooming affection for her, and, to his utmost astonishment, she had reacted with far more passion than he had ever expected. Jonas adored her too, since she was the only mother figure he had ever known and Balthazar had spent the better part of a decade trying to convince her to marry him, to no avail. ‘Why fix what isn’t broken?’ was her standard response to his frequent proposals. Their relationship, however, kept Rowena safe from the ardent demands of the other men in their camp. Single women were fair game, expected to answer the sexual demands of the men. It was an accepted part of their culture, but Balthazar knew Rowena didn’t like it one bit. She couldn’t change it, but she did her best to ensure that the women were treated well. On more than one occasion, Rowena had intervened when things had gotten out of hand after a drunken night. Balthazar had often noticed men in camp becoming violently ill after mistreating one of Rowena’s girls. Nobody would admit that Rowena’s herbs might have been the cause, but Balthazar knew better. Her potions were another reason Rowena was left alone. The gypsies relied on her cures and antidotes, not to mention that selling her wares at local markets brought in most of their pitiful income. Rowena’s distant ancestor, Jasmine, had been the gypsies’ first alchemist, over five hundred years ago, and her knowledge had been passed down through generations of Rowena’s family.

Lost in thought, Balthazar drove on, his gaze lingering on the arid earth beside the road until a tiny splash of colour drew his attention. Cursing, he swung the wheel, the smooth tyres spitting up a cloud of sand as he pulled over to the shoulder of the dusty road. He emerged from the pick-up, his eyes searching the barren area until he spotted it. The heavy door creaked as it swung shut, and Jonas groaned, but Balthazar was already striding across the dirt, fixated on the splash of blue standing out against a sea of dry, cracked earth. He reached the spot and gazed down at the single cornflower, beautiful in its solitude. Bending his knees, he touched an intense blue petal, his excitement mounting.

“What is it?” Rowena called from behind him and he moved aside so that she could see it. Her astonished intake of breath confirmed that she felt it too, that she sensed the significance. Cornflowers needed water daily to grow and it had not rained for weeks. This was no ordinary bloom – it was a sign - intended for Balthazar to find.

“Oh, Balthazar,” her hand flew to her chest as she walked slowly forward. Crouching beside him, she gazed at the simple flower as though it was the most magnificent thing she had ever seen and then she reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“We found it,” she murmured, tears welling in her eyes, “you were right.”

“It’s just a flower,” Melchior announced when he joined them. Balthazar sensed Rowena’s hostility as her body went rigid beside him. Melchior was his friend, but he could be cruel, particularly to the gypsy women. He drank too much and alcohol fuelled his nastiness. Melchior had been on the receiving end of Rowena’s herbs more times than Balthazar could count, but he just never learned.

“It’s a sign,” Balthazar corrected, still gazing at the cornflower in reverent wonder.

“Does this mean we’re staying?” Jonas held his own excitement in check, not wanting to develop false hope. He tended to agree with Melchior on this one. He didn’t much like his father’s oldest friend, but it was, after all, just a flower - nothing to get so excited about. More importantly, if Balthazar believed that they had finally found the general location of the City he might be inclined to stay. Jonas was tired of driving aimlessly across country, never settling down in any one place, never meeting anyone his own age. The few friends he had made had been older than he was and they had all left the convoy as soon as they had come of age. Jonas was biding his time. In five years he’d be twenty-one and he would leave too. The thought of abandoning his father cut him deeply, but Jonas needed his own life.

“We’re staying,” Balthazar confirmed. Rowena, who missed nothing, observed Jonas’s ill-disguised look of glee and her heart sank. Balthazar was living in denial. They were losing their son and he was too blinded by his passion to see it. She had tried to address it countless times, but Balthazar simply brushed her off, insisting that Jonas would come around. Balthazar was a good man, but he had become obsessive. He didn’t see what was happening around him. A part of her was grateful for that fact because it allowed her to do what she needed to do without his ever finding out, but Rowena only hoped that he would see the truth before it was too late; that he would finally put his family first, before his quest.

Chapter 6

It took two days for Quinn to realise she wasn’t getting anywhere. She needed to visit Cliffdale. Despite what her father had said about the twins not being there, it was the only place she might find answers. At the very least she hoped that Piper might have information. Piper was a good friend and, if there was even the slightest chance that she knew where Daniel had sent Jack and Ava, Quinn had to try and get it out of her. She couldn’t phone Piper, it would make it all too easy for them to trace her, and besides, she doubted that Piper could be convinced over the phone. Sadly, the Guardians would be expecting her to come searching, so she would have to give it time – wait until they decided she wasn’t going anywhere near the Cathedral. In the meantime, she realised, she would go crazy if she didn’t have something else to occupy her time. She needed to keep her mind off Jack and Ava until she could actually do something about them. And so, despite her reservations, she started to integrate herself into the Brookfield community.

She visited Sarah, taking a box of doughnuts she had bought at the store, and this time she made polite conversation. Sarah was sincerely delighted with the abrupt turn of events and, soon enough, a friendship began forming. Sarah introduced Quinn to Todd Cooper, who was as nice a person as Sarah herself, and Quinn spent a few evenings a week with the two of them. She found her heart hurt just a little bit less when she was around other people. For those few hours she could forget her loneliness, her guilt and her concern for the children.

Alice, the char, continued to come every week. Her initial reaction to Quinn’s unexpected arrival was a simple, “Do you still need me to come in?” Alice was a lady in her late fifties and it seemed that nothing could ruffle her. Steadfast and dependable, she arrived every Tuesday at eight o’clock precisely – cleaned routinely and diligently and then left via the back door. Quinn was amused by this – she simply walked around the front of the house and then trundled up the street. Quinn could not see the reason for her leaving through the back. She assumed it was simply a habit that Alice had formed in the year that Quinn had not been around.

Doing nothing was silent torture for Quinn, as her desperate longing for Jack and Ava grew, but she consoled herself with the small victory of having eluded the Guardians. They had not discovered her hiding place and for now, that would have to be enough.

About three weeks after her arrival Quinn ordered a couple of pizzas from the local pub to take over to Sarah’s. It turned out that Phil’s Place was the only pizzeria in Brookfield after all, but fortunately their food was superb. Quinn wasn’t partial to cooking and had ordered more meals from Phil’s than she had made in her own fully-functional kitchen. It wasn’t far from the house and she decided to walk rather than take her car. Her black leather boots made little sound on the deserted street and ten minutes later she entered the small tavern. A few tables were occupied and Quinn waved at a couple of familiar faces she recognised from her trips to the shops, calling out a greeting to a teacher who helped Sarah at the kindergarten. Country music played softly in the background.

“Hi Quinn!” Phil, the friendly owner greeted her from behind the bar. “Sorry, it’s been a bit busy tonight but your order won’t be long.”

“Thanks,” Quinn smiled, taking a seat at the bar while she waited.

She sensed him before she actually saw him, but not quickly enough. This tall, dark-haired stranger, with pale, flawless skin, who came to stand beside her at the bar counter, had approached almost undetected.

“Drake!” Phil greeted him as warmly as he had Quinn, “you want the usual?” The stranger inclined his head and dropped down onto the seat beside her. “Where’s Genevieve?” Phil called as he poured two fingers of bourbon into a brandy snifter. “You want anything while you wait, Quinn?” he added, before the stranger could answer.

“I’ll have a beer,” Quinn replied, keeping her voice light. The vampire, Drake, stiffened beside her, but he didn’t turn his head.

“Genevieve’s at home,” he remarked drily, still focusing on Phil and answering his initial question.

“I don’t think you’ve met Quinn,” Phil placed the drinks on the counter in front of them, and Quinn immediately took a hearty slug of her beer. Drake turned his head slowly towards her as Phil continued, “Quinn is staying in the old Monroe house on Ridge Road.”

“Is that so?” Drake asked, his cruel green eyes boring into Quinn’s face.

“Yes,” she replied brightly, taking another swig of beer and wishing the bartender hadn’t been so free with giving out her address. “Where do you stay?”

“Oh Drake and Genevieve are just around the corner from you,” Phil interjected pleasantly, “in Abbey Place.” Phil didn’t notice, but Drake’s eyes narrowed briefly – he was not thrilled either with Phil’s light bandying around of information.

“How long have you been in town?” he asked, his voice low and melodious.

“Three weeks. I’m still getting to know everyone.”

“Drake knows everybody, of course,” Phil could not seem to let it go. “He and his wife, Genevieve...”

“Girlfriend,” Drake corrected.

“More's the pity,” Phil jested, “yes, well, he and his girlfriend have been here nearly... five years is it, Drake?”

“Six.” Drake didn’t take his eyes off Quinn’s face. Feeling the thin stake in her boot pressing against her leg calmed her and she met his gaze levelly.

“Ah, your pizzas are ready,” Phil reached behind him to pull the boxes from the serving window and Quinn, grateful for the distraction, looked away as she got to her feet and paid for the pizzas and her beer. Drake drained his glass and stood up, towering over her.

“I’m also heading home,” he announced and a feeling of dread came over Quinn, “I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Quinn muttered as they made their way down the street. She would probably feel safer if her arms weren’t laden with pizza boxes, limiting her ability to reach for her stake.

“It’s not exactly out of my way.”

Quinn’s mind whirled. What would a vampire be doing out here in the middle of nowhere? Granted, there were thousands of vampires in the realm of man – denied access to Summerfeld – and they could turn as many humans as they wanted. The sheer number of their population, despite the Hunters' best efforts to reduce them, was why Quinn’s faith in the prophecy was so shrouded with doubt. There were only a few hundred inhabitants of Summerfeld – it seemed unlikely that they would ever achieve a balance. No matter how many vampires they killed, it seemed twice as many were created. Vampires had enhanced speed, strength and heightened senses – their sight and hearing was incomparable. They also had unnatural healing powers which, like their other abilities, amplified with age. Idly Quinn wondered just how long Drake had been a vampire. He was attractive, in a hard, unyielding way; tall and pale, with short cropped hair, so dark it looked black in the moonlight.

Quinn took comfort in the fact that Drake could not sense that she was a Guardian - Guardians were indiscernible from humans to a vampire – but the silver watch she had taken to wearing on her left wrist to cover her tattoo suddenly felt like a hopelessly inadequate cover. Her instinct spurred her to destroy him – a natural threat to the supernatural beings she was sworn to protect – but Quinn had long learned to control these impulses. Only the Hunters flamed this primary instinct, honing it; their sole purpose to destroy. Guardians like Quinn were simply protectors, and they killed only when their lives, or the lives of their wards, were threatened.

“So... your girlfriend, Genevieve...” she began, but she had not realised how long they had walked in silence.

“We’re here,” he interrupted, coming to a sudden stop.

“Oh, right...” Quinn trailed off, “I’m actually going over to my neighbours' – not even I can polish off two large pizzas on my own.” She shook the boxes in her hands. Drake didn’t smile and she cast around for something else to say.

“Goodnight Quinn,” he beat her to it, and, before she could recover, he had been swallowed up by the darkness.

Chapter 7

Drake rounded the corner into Abbey Place, his eyes sweeping the empty street, seeing everything.

“You’re late,” Genevieve reproached him the second he shut the door. Drake turned to see a pretty brunette bound and gagged on the sofa. He didn’t recognise her face, unsurprisingly since they did not hunt within a hundred miles of Brookfield. Her eyes were closed and her mascara had smudged beneath her eyes, no doubt from crying. A trickle of blood ran down her chest from two puncture marks in her neck. Drake’s nostrils flared as the sickly-sweet smell reached him.

“You could have waited,” he remarked, striding across the room and taking the young girl's hand. Feeling her wrist he detected a faint pulse.

“I was irritated. Sebastian called again today. The Guardians have still not found the twelfth.” Sebastian, Genevieve’s brother, was a vampire elder. He served on the council; an active participant in the vampire’s Quest for Summerfeld.

“Genevieve,” Drake warned, his fangs extending – a combination of his rising anger and his thirst.

“Summerfeld has never been so vulnerable,” she continued, her own fangs bared. “We might never have another chance like this!”

“Eleven Guardians are as good as a thousand, Genevieve,” Drake tried to keep his temper in check.

“The balance has been compromised. This is just the beginning, I am sure of it. We need to strike now!”

“Oh yes,” Drake roared, his control slipping, “and what if you come across a Slayer Genevieve?” She stiffened involuntarily at the mention of the word. “Will you still be so confident then?”

“There has not been any whisper of a Slayer in over five hundred years,” she hissed, her fangs fully extended. “And should one emerge, we will deal with it.”

“Deal with it?” Drake barked in harsh, mirthless laughter. “You have never seen a Slayer and I pray to God you never have to.”

Unbidden, Drake’s own memories washed over him. The burning village, the vampiric screaming - so blood-curdling it sounded almost human. It had been over five hundred years and he could still smell the burning flesh of his fellows as one by one they were struck down. And then there were the memories of Charlotte - as crystal clear as if it was yesterday. Charlotte. Seventeen years old, beautiful and gloriously human. He had met her through a chance encounter at a market fair and her blood had called to him. She had been surveying the wares of a gypsy stall, fascinated by the trinkets and potions. Following her when she left, he had lured her into a pebbled alleyway, his hunger for her blood assaulting his senses. He had pushed her roughly against the cold stone of an ironmongery, his fangs extending painfully in his jaws. However, when he met her gaze and the liquid cocoa of her warm brown eyes - he was lost. He couldn’t do it. Not a single bone in his entire body would allow him to hurt her. All he could see were those eyes, exquisitely set in a heart-shaped face and the full curve of her lips, which trembled in fear. The dizzying scent of the posies braided into her hair overwhelmed him and he stumbled back, releasing her abruptly and shaking his head as though in pain.

She had turned and fled, and Drake had believed for one selfish, agonising moment that he would never see her again. But then she had done something that had both startled and enthralled him. She had stopped. She had come back.

“Are you unwell, Sir?” she had asked, her pink tongue slipping out of her mouth with a slight lisp.

Charlotte’s compassion ruled her head. She was the most beautiful soul he had ever encountered and he was enchanted. She captivated him, obliterating all thoughts of the Quest from his mind. They had fallen in love in that very moment, and, in the weeks that followed, their love blossomed. Charlotte had given herself completely to Drake. He discovered her blood tasted just as sweet as he had suspected, but she offered it to him willingly during their love-making and it was all the more alluring for this. He stopped feeding off other humans, their blood losing all appeal in comparison to hers.

Drake had never been more content, more alive, than the few months after their meeting, and then tragedy had struck. Charlotte’s father had promised her hand in marriage to another. Drake had steeled all of his resolve not to hunt her betrothed down and rip his heart out, but Charlotte had quieted his fury, insisting that this was the way of the world. She would not allow him to give in to his demons and fall back into his old ways because of her.

The night before the wedding, Drake drank himself into an alcohol-induced stupor at the local tavern, so profound was his heartbreak. And then she had come, roused him from his sleep and declared that she would run away with him, leaving her old life behind. The fact that she loved him so, despite his curse, made him feel more human than he had believed possible.

They should never have been in that village. The vampires gathered there had been celebrating when he and Charlotte had arrived, seeking a place to rest for the night. She had fled her parents' home in order to be with him, vowing she would follow him to the ends of the Earth and they had been travelling for days. Charlotte had never complained – she had borne each new challenge with a strength that belied her petite, fragile frame.

Finding the small village teeming with vampires, Drake had been all for spiriting Charlotte away – as far from the creatures who would prey on her sweet innocent blood as possible – but Charlotte had wilted at the thought of going any further, desperate for rest, and so he had consented to staying for just one night. He had tried to shake off the ominous feeling that had settled over him, for Charlotte’s sake.

It was only after they had settled into their room that Drake discovered the cause for the vampires’ celebration - they had murdered a Guardian, and, even more exciting, they had secured her crystal. The revelation sent a thrill of exhilaration through him – he had long supported the Quest and this was a great victory. Never before had a vampire possessed one of the twelve stones, and the prized possession had been displayed by a particularly striking, raven-haired vampire, worn proudly around her neck before she placed it in an ornate iron box. The fallen Guardian would be replaced, but the stone was irreplaceable, and, without it, the Guardians were one step closer to their demise. Drake had itched to join in the celebration and drink to the fall of one of the twelve, but he could not bring himself to leave Charlotte and he dared not tell her about the Quest, knowing she would never approve. He had left that life behind when he met her, and he would not go back to it.

He had been watching from the small porch of their sleeping quarters, determined not to sleep and leave Charlotte vulnerable while there were so many frenzied vampires about, when the Slayer had come.

Drake had never known fear in all his years until that night. The Slayer tore through the small village like a God, killing more vampires than Drake could count. He wielded a sword as opposed to stakes, but somehow the weapon was all the more frightening for the havoc it wreaked. The few who tried to sink their fangs into the Slayer dropped dead at his feet. Drake had grabbed Charlotte and tried to flee, but more Guardians blocked his path and carrying his precious Charlotte did not allow him to fight back.

One Guardian in particular caught Drake’s eye. A broad–shouldered, bare-chested warrior with battle lust in his eyes and a palpable thirst for vengeance. His arms were covered in intricate circular tattoos, stretching from his shoulders down to his wrists.

Drake could not have known the reason for Daniel’s black rage; that the vampires had murdered his mate, Emily, and stolen her crystal. Daniel and Emily, along with Isaiah, were the only three remaining original Guardians. They had been together for almost half a century, and now she was gone.

Seeing the human girl in the vampire’s arms, Daniel had used Drake’s limited ability against him and charged, an unearthly battle cry sounding from deep in his chest. With his lightning reflexes, Drake deposited Charlotte gently on the ground beside him and then stood to face this formidable opponent. Drake was not a new vampire, and he had no doubt that, as impressive as this Guardian seemed, he would be no match for Drake’s vampiric strength. Sadly, he would never know the outcome, because in the instant before Daniel was upon him, his silver stake raised to strike, Charlotte leapt between them, and the ornamental silver stake buried itself below her collarbone, cutting through her like butter, until only the hilt protruded from her chest.

“Noooooooooo!” Drake’s bellow of anguish reverberated through the cobbled walkways. He dropped to his knees cradling Charlotte’s limp, warm body in his arms, feeling the point of the stake protruding through her back, all thoughts of the Guardian forgotten. “Charlotte, Charlotte,” he murmured, stroking her hair and pleading with her to stay with him.

Above them, Daniel paused, and Drake watched as the realisation dawned on him. He had believed the girl to be a victim of the vampire, but the palpable grief he was now witnessing made it clear that that was not the case. The young girl, her breathing laboured, had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen, and a pain so severe it doubled him over, washed over him as he realised he had taken her life. A human life – an innocent soul. Daniel hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. The Guardians around him, too, made no move towards the weeping vampire. They had never seen anything like it – a vampire protecting a human was unheard of. Bending over, Daniel reached for the hilt of his stake and pulled, the gurgling sound it made as it came free of the girl’s chest making him feel faint. Despite the tragic unfolding of events, Daniel’s Hunter instinct was too strong to ignore, and he lifted the stake above his head, his eyes fixed on the back of the vampire’s neck.

Drake turned to gaze hollowly at the Guardian wielding the stake above him, his green eyes glimmering with anguished tears. He did not fear death because it would be preferable to a life without Charlotte, but as long as her heart still beat, he would not accept defeat. Daniel stared into those green eyes and an eerie sensation trickled over his body. He could not do it. He could not kill this vampire. Lowering the stake, he backed away, leaving the nightwalker to mourn the loss of his loved one.

Everything else faded away. Drake could no longer hear the torturous cries of the vampires being slaughtered by the Slayer, or the raging roar of the fires as their bodies burned. All he could hear was the faint, fading beating of Charlotte’s heart as she slowly bled to death. Casting around for help, he was faintly surprised that the Guardians had moved away, engaging in battle with the remaining vampires.

A woman skidded to a halt beside him, collapsing on her knees. Drake recognised her as a gypsy, her long dark hair slung in a heavy braid over her shoulder. The unwashed scent of her body assailed his senses, but her words, when they came, were spoken with kindness.

“Press down here,” she instructed, seemingly oblivious of the carnage raging around them. Drake did as he was told, pressing his hand down over the entry wound in Charlotte’s chest.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “you have to help her.” The woman didn’t reply, but another voice yelled over the sound of fighting, “Jasmine!”

Drake heard the sound of footsteps approaching, but the gypsy woman was gently lifting Charlotte to assess the damage to her back.

“Jasmine!” The gypsy man reached them, grabbing the woman’s shoulders, trying to wrest her to her feet. Jasmine pushed him away, leaning in close to assess the wound. Charlotte’s breathing was rasping, a death rattle in her chest as blood filled her lungs and made it impossible for her to breathe. “Jasmine,” the man tried again, “we have to get out of here!”

Slowly Jasmine lowered Charlotte’s body back to the ground, the sadness in her brown eyes conveying all Drake needed to know.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, shaking her head. She finally scrambled to her feet and was dragged away by the gypsy man as they fled the massacre.

Drake clutched Charlotte to him, sobbing into her hair. The Guardian who had struck her was now fighting alongside the Slayer himself, seeming to have forgotten about Drake. Seizing the opportunity he scooped Charlotte up and fled, racing into the night away from the carnage. The Slayer had single-handedly destroyed almost forty vampires in the space of five minutes and Drake needed to get away from him so that he could attend to Charlotte.

He had done the unthinkable in his desperate attempt to save her: he had turned her; turned the beautiful, kind, loving girl into a vampire. She was reborn that night, her senses heightened, her enhanced strength and speed terrifyingly beautiful in comparison to her sweet youthful beauty. But with her transition came the bloodlust. Unable to resist, she fed, as often and as much as she wanted. Denying the thirst was pointless, and although he expected she would feel guilty, she never did. Charlotte’s compassion had died along with her soul.

“Drake? Drake!” Genevieve’s frantic voice pulled him back to the present, away from the memories of Charlotte, but the destructive power of the Slayer was burned into his consciousness, a stabbing pain behind his eyes.

“The Quest is important to me,” Genevieve murmured pleadingly and Drake breathed deeply, trying to remember his own fervour for the Quest before he had met Charlotte... before he had ever seen the Slayer. He did not blame Genevieve; he had experienced the same single-minded determination. Losing Charlotte had changed everything. He did not want to lose Genevieve too, although he would never feel for her the way he had felt for his first love, but Genevieve and her brother Sebastian had been seeking the City for centuries. Keeping his voice low, he chose his next words carefully, not wanting to be cruel, but needing to be very clear.

“Genevieve, in a millennium our kind has never come close to finding the City. I am through with the Quest – I have told you this too many times to count. You have chosen to stay with me, to put it behind us. Or perhaps you have changed your mind?” Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he dipped his dark head and plunged his fangs into the soft skin at the young woman’s wrist, drinking deeply and feeling the faint pulse in her arm slowing down with every passing second until it ceased entirely. By the time he lifted his head, Genevieve was beside him, her eyes wide with lust, and he didn’t object as she bent her head to drink the vestige of blood from his mouth.

Chapter 8

Quinn tossed the pizza boxes onto the kitchen counter as Sarah came down the passage. Todd rose from the couch, opening the top box and selecting a large slice, piled high with cheese and pepperoni.

“Oh yum,” Sarah grabbed the boxes and carried them through to the living-room while Quinn got herself a beer from the fridge.

“What took you so long?” Todd asked, through a mouth crammed with pizza.

“The order took a while. Oh, and I met someone at Phil’s tonight,” Quinn mentioned casually. Sarah’s head jerked up.

“A male someone?” she asked, a huge grin on her face. Quinn knew that Sarah wanted nothing more than for her to meet a local man and settle down in Brookfield permanently.

“It was nothing like that; he has a girlfriend,” Quinn insisted and Sarah’s face fell. “His name is Drake.” Sarah’s knowing smile was met by a dark scowl from Todd.

“He’s gorgeous, right?” she quipped, oblivious to Todd’s reaction. There was no point in denying it, but mindful of Todd’s irritation, Quinn kept her opinion to herself.

“He’s weird,” Todd interjected.

“Weird how?” Quinn asked.

“Well, for starters, I only ever see him at night. It’s like he’s on some nocturnal schedule or something. My parents say he’s lived here what – five years...?”

“Six,” Quinn corrected automatically and Sarah looked suitably impressed.

“Six,” Todd conceded, “and I don’t know anyone who knows him any further than as a casual acquaintance. He doesn’t have a single friend. If you ask me, he thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

“Maybe he’s just shy?” said Quinn, and even Sarah laughed.

“Nobody is that shy, Quinn. Not even you,” she winked, reminding Quinn of their first encounter. Quinn had passed off her rudeness as shyness. “He is pretty antisocial,” Sarah conceded, earning herself a satisfied look from Todd, “but his girlfriend’s even worse. She creeps me out.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know, she’s just weird.”

“Hot though,” Todd got his revenge and Quinn couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, what’s this?” Quinn asked, wiping her greasy hands on her jeans and leaning forward too study a brightly coloured board on the table.

“It’s a display I’m working on,” Sarah replied, leaning forward and pulling it out from under the empty pizza boxes.

“Is it a boat?” Quinn asked, as Sarah held it up proudly for display. Sarah’s face fell, but Todd let out a snort of laughter.

“It’s Noah’s Ark,” Sarah sounded hurt.

“Of course it is!” Todd teased, but Quinn felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. The Ark. This was how the original Guardians referred to Summerfeld. They called it the Ark.

King Eldon had created the City of Summerfeld as a safe haven for the last ten surviving supernatural species. Its exact location was unknown, but it existed at the very edge of the known Earth, accessible only through the Guardian’s Gateway. Like a second Ark, King Eldon had personally shepherded the mystical creatures and his own people into the City before magically barricading it from the outside.

“Quinn?” Sarah called, and Quinn realised it was not the first time her friend had tried to get her attention.

“Oh, sorry, I was just... admiring your artwork,” she finished lamely.

“It’s not finished.” Sarah sounded embarrassed and Quinn hastened to reassure her.

‘It’s fantastic. The kids are going to love it.”

She excused herself not long after, sensing that Todd wanted to be alone with Sarah, and the second she left the light, jovial atmosphere of Sarah’s house, her thoughts returned automatically to the task at hand. In light of her blossoming friendship, it was easy to forget the real reason she was here in Brookfield. She had decided to wait at least a few months before visiting Cliffdale, as difficult as it was for her to go about her life not knowing where Jack and Ava were. A Guardian at heart, she couldn’t shake the uneasiness that she was living in a town that harboured vampires, but she had decided that the best way to size up the opposition was to get as close to them as possible – which was proving difficult. Todd had not been exaggerating – Drake and Genevieve were intensely private, although they did frequent Phil’s a couple of nights a week. Quinn had taken to venturing over there herself, more often than not, in the hope of learning more about them. On the odd occasion when she did find them, she always greeted them politely, but neither invited her to join them at their table, and Genevieve’s obvious and instant dislike did nothing to further her cause.

One Thursday evening Quinn walked over to the tavern without much optimism, but, to her surprise, Drake was seated alone at the bar. Ignoring the queasiness in her stomach, fighting to subdue her Guardian instinct, she took a seat right beside him.

“Hi,” she smiled, ordering a beer from Phil who was just filling another order.

“Hello,” Drake gave her a perfunctory once-over and then stared moodily back into his drink.

“Where is Genevieve tonight?” Quinn persevered.

“She’s out of town.”

“On business?” He didn’t say it, but the look that he gave her made it clear that it was none of hers. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosey – I just don’t have many friends, you know – new to town and all.”

“It’s not the worst place to live,” he pointed out, catching her eye, and Quinn thought she detected a hint of a smile on his face. She was almost certain he thought she was flirting with him.

Quinn didn’t have the time to be offended. Without warning, a fight broke out on the other side of the bar. Phil yelled and a young woman shrieked as she was knocked to the ground in the scuffle. Quinn didn’t even see Drake move, but the next moment he was upon them, his face hard and furious. He pulled the brawling men apart, holding them by the scruffs of their shirts and frogmarched them to the door before tossing them outside in a heap. Returning to the bar, Quinn noticed his eyes slide over to where the woman was being helped to her feet by a friend. Seemingly satisfied, he dropped a few notes on the counter and nodded at Phil, before turning on his heel and stalking out into the night.

“He’s a good man,” Phil remarked, catching Quinn’s eye. “I don’t care what the others say about him – he’s a good man. It’s not the first time he’s had my back.”

Quinn recovered quickly, tossing her own money down on the counter and hastening after Drake before he had even made it halfway down the street.

“Are you okay?” she asked as she fell into step beside him. He didn’t reply. “That was a very nice thing you did back there – for Phil.” At that he stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face her, a wary look on his face.

“I am committed to Genevieve.”

“What?” Quinn didn’t follow.

“I am not sure exactly why you think I would be interested in you – although granted, you are exceptionally beautiful - but I am not.” The fact that he would think that she was romantically interested in him was so outrageous that Quinn broke into peals of laughter. Drake regarded her quizzically, as though wondering if she might be slightly mad.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn gasped, “but seriously? What on earth makes you think I would be interested in you? Granted, you are exceptionally good-looking, but really... I’m not.” Her echoing of his earlier words relaxed him, and this time there was no mistaking it – a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“In that case, I’ll walk you home.”

They walked on in preoccupied silence. Drake escorted Quinn right up the front steps, but, as she opened the door, she stood directly in the doorway, praying that he wouldn’t realise that she was barring his entry.

“Thank you for walking me,” she smiled. Drake cocked his head to one side, his eyes narrowing. Quinn leaned casually against the doorframe and an unnerving silence followed as Drake tried to make out if there was more to her than met the eye. Eventually, nodding a farewell, he left, as abruptly as before.

Walking along the darkened street Drake reflected once again on events that had taken place over five hundred years ago. He had stayed with Charlotte for five years despite the fact that she was no longer interested – her thirst for blood had completely overshadowed her love for him. He had stayed as a penance for what he had done to her, accepting it as his punishment for turning her into the monster she had become. Charlotte had morphed into the most sadistic and dangerous of vampires - capable of unspeakable acts of cruelty. She toyed with other vampires in front of him, male and female alike, her sexual appetite almost as insatiable as her thirst for human blood. It didn’t take long before she learned of the Quest for Summerfeld, and she embraced the idea as yet another way to inflict pain on others. Drake had no desire to take up the Quest again, not after seeing the power of the Slayer and how easily he had taken back the crystal. He had also reconciled the Quest with the loss of Charlotte, in his mind. Had the vampires in the village not murdered a Guardian, had they never taken the stone, neither the Slayer nor the Guardians would have been there that night and Charlotte would never have been turned. He would have loved her all the days of her life, and then, when she had passed from this world to the next, he would have joined her in the afterlife. The Quest had taken her from him, taken away the part of her that loved him and everything he had loved about her.

After five years spent trying to bring back the girl he had known, Drake had conceded defeat. His penance would never truly be paid, but he stopped trying to rekindle their love and hardened his heart, until one day he was no longer the same person who had loved Charlotte. He was the hard, cruel, soulless creature he had been before they had ever met. And so he had remained. He had met Genevieve a few years after leaving Charlotte and he had committed himself to her - out of respect for her position and her adoration - but he would never love again.

Entering the house Drake’s thoughts strayed to the woman he had walked home. Something about her irked him, like a pebble in his shoe. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Resolving to keep a closer eye on her, he took a seat near the fire and watched the dancing flames, wondering when Genevieve would return. His fangs ached in his jaws but he would not feed tonight. He didn’t need to – the older he got, the longer he could go without blood. He didn’t deny himself for any noble purpose, or to self-persecute, he simply couldn’t be bothered.

Chapter 9

“Hello again,” Drake murmured in Quinn’s ear. She started intentionally, not wanting to let him in on the fact that she had sensed him already.

“Hi,” she smiled, raising her beer at him.

“Just so you know, I’m unavailable,” he quipped, taking a seat.

“The usual?” Phil asked, appearing before them. Drake nodded.

“And another beer for my friend here,” he added and Quinn raised her eyebrows teasingly.

“Just so you know, I’m not available either.”

“Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way,” he raised his glass and she clinked her bottle against it.

And so it went for another week. Quinn was fairly sure that Drake was one of the neutrals – a group of unconnected vampires with a common aim – to live amongst humans and avoid detection. The neutrals had no interest in the vampires’ quest to destroy Summerfeld and its inhabitants. They couldn’t be trusted but they were not a threat to the Guardian’s charges. The fifth time he walked her home, Quinn decided to take the bull by the horns. Once more, he walked her to the door, and again, she did not ask him in. She could not continue for much longer without raising his suspicions and she watched closely as his eyes moved over the doorframe. He would discover that she knew eventually, and she would rather it was on her own terms, before he began to suspect what she really was.

“I’m not going to invite you in,” she murmured meaningfully. Drake seemed to freeze, his eyes on her face, as though trying to figure out what she had just said. “I know what you are...” she managed, before his pale white fingers darted forward and seized her by the throat, pulling her out of the doorway and onto the porch. Quinn forced herself to remain calm and not to struggle; she could not retaliate and risk Drake discovering who she really was. So she stood still, even though her throat was closing and she could not breathe. Drake’s fingernails pressed into her soft flesh so hard that they drew blood and his pupils dilated.

“You don’t need to do this,” she gasped, “I’m not going to expose you.” His fingers eased slightly, but his green eyes were still as cold as ice.

“Who are you?” he hissed.

“Nobody.”

“How do you know what I am?”

“I figured it out... I...” she could not say anymore, the lack of oxygen was making her head spin. Drake eased up again, slowly unfurling his fingers from her windpipe and allowing her to draw breath. Sucking in a huge lungful of air, Quinn coughed before continuing, “You’re never around during the day.”

“So what – you just logically jumped to vampire?” He didn’t believe her. Of course he didn’t – nobody in their right mind would believe that vampires exist.

“I met someone like you once,” Quinn bluffed, praying that he would accept her words as true. Vampires can sense when people are lying but Guardians are impervious to this ability. “He told me about your kind. He was my friend.”

“What was his name?”

“Jude,” she gasped, knowing it wouldn’t matter what name she gave. There were far too many vampires to keep track of everyone. Drake would not know if Jude existed or not, but he would take her word for it as he could not detect any untruth in her words.

He released her suddenly and unexpectedly and she reeled sideways, slamming into the doorframe.

“What do you know?”

“That sunlight will kill you. And that you’re stronger than humans.”

“What else?”

“You drink blood.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Again the disbelief in his voice.

“Of course it bothers me.”

“So why have you been talking to me – spending time with me?”

“My friend was a good person. He couldn’t help what he was. I figure it’s the same with you.” Quinn hoped against hope that Drake had been turned against his will, and wasn’t one of those vampires who had chosen this path. The fact that he lived out here, in the middle of nowhere, led her to believe he wasn’t party to the Quest. Many new vampires did not follow that path, they simply existed as they had centuries ago, harbouring no hatred for the Fae or their allies.

Drake looked long and at hard at her, his face a mask, not revealing anything.

“Stay away from me,” he muttered finally, before turning on his heel and leaving her. He didn’t go home. Instead, he made his way back to Phil’s, needing another drink. He would have to hunt soon. He and Genevieve never hunted in town – they didn’t want to draw any attention to themselves. If Genevieve was not back by tomorrow he would head for Colton – a larger town a few hundred miles away.

Genevieve had not said when she would return and Drake had not questioned her – neither about where she was going nor when she would be back. They had been together for almost half a century and often parted ways for extended periods of time. It was perfectly normal - when you lived forever, days didn’t matter. Genevieve, like her brother Sebastian, had fought alongside Aleksei in the Blood War – the siblings were over a thousand years old – but even they did not know Aleksei’s whereabouts. When Eldon had stopped fighting and created Summerfeld, Aleksei had simply disappeared and no-one had seen the Vampire King since. Drake was fond of Genevieve and had worked with her brother for a century, seeking the City of Summerfeld, before he had met Charlotte.

Drake had not been a part of the Blood War, and he did not carry the hatred in his heart as so many of his kind did. He had spent most of his vampiric life under the tutelage of a vampire named Lucian, a peaceful man, who had not condoned the war that was raging. Lucian had made Drake question King Aleksei’s motives, pointing out that one man’s personal vendetta had spiralled out of control. Lucian did not blame Aleskei for hating Eldon, who had murdered his son, but he did not believe that war was the answer. Lucian was refined and honourable, especially for a vampire, and Drake had followed his example, never realising how rare Lucian’s perspective was until the vampire died. When Lucian was discovered by the Hunters and murdered by them everything he had taught Drake had been eradicated, replaced by hatred and the all-encompassing need for revenge. For the first time, Drake sympathised with Aleksei. Lucian had preached a peaceful solution, but the Hunters had not shown him the same compassion. Drake had needed an outlet for his rage and Sebastian Russo had provided one – the Quest. Sebastian had given Drake a home and a family and he had fought bravely for the council.

Strangely, despite all the time he spent with her brother, Drake had never met Genevieve, who had been out of the country, working with another council member and investigating potential Guardian families. The day that Drake met Charlotte, everything changed for him. Charlotte reminded him of Lucian – her kindness and compassion brought him back from the dark depths of his misery, restoring him to his former self.

It was only after he had left Charlotte that he had paid Sebastian a visit and Genevieve had been there. She was the opposite of Charlotte in every way imaginable – confident, powerful, and not too shy about making her feelings known. She had targeted Drake that very first night and he had accepted her attention, a welcome distraction from the pain of leaving Charlotte behind. They had been together on and off ever since, but Drake had refused to rejoin the Quest and, over time, Genevieve had accepted this.

To his surprise, when he re-entered the tavern, Genevieve was there, and she was not alone.

“Drake!” Sebastian boomed across the small space, getting to his feet and coming forward to embrace Drake. Genevieve smiled smugly behind him and Drake narrowed his eyes at her, his mouth set in an angry line.

“Sebastian, it has been too long,” Drake clapped the shorter man on the back and stepped back to admire him. Sebastian was the same height as Genevieve, about a foot shorter than Drake, with the same white-blond hair and pale silver eyes as his sister. As with all vampires he was alluringly attractive, and even more so to humans.

“I have come to try and persuade you to rejoin us now that Summerfeld is vulnerable,” Sebastian murmured as they headed back to the table. “A drink for my friend, here,” he waved at Janet, one of Phil’s seasoned waitresses. She fetched a Bourbon for Drake and set it in front of him before scurrying away. Drake frowned – he had always gotten along fine with all of Phil’s girls. Sebastian had been in town five minutes and already he had made Janet uncomfortable, undoing all of Drake’s hard work.

“As I am sure Genevieve has told you,” Drake replied, refusing to meet Genevieve’s eyes, “I am not interested.” It was nothing short of rude and Drake heard Genevieve’s astonished intake of breath. Sebastian’s eyes hardened, but he grinned complacently.

“I understand, of course. The choice is yours, after all – you don’t owe me anything,” his tone made it clear that he thought that Drake owed him a great deal. “Let’s not talk of it any further.” Drake relaxed slightly, wondering if that was really the end of it. “You don’t mind if I stay? Just a few weeks – I find your little town... intriguing,” Sebastian continued cheerily, and now Drake realised that it was far from over. Brookfield was about as intriguing as an empty room to a vampire. Being nocturnal, they preferred the lure of the larger cities where they could be entertained by the nightlife and feed without being discovered.

“Of course,” Drake replied, determined to remain as calm as Sebastian, although the effort was taking its toll.

They continued to drink in silence, Drake still punishing Genevieve by refusing to meet her curious gaze. She was becoming increasingly desperate, practically draping herself across the table, but he would not acknowledge her. Male vampires are Alphas and the females thrive on their appreciation and approval. Genevieve had earned herself favour from Sebastian by bringing him to Brookfield which had temporarily sated her desire for attention, but now Drake’s icy indifference was crucifying her. Inwardly, Drake revelled in her suffering.

“Well, well, well. I might have more reason to stay than I initially thought,” Sebastian’s voice roused Drake from his musing and he followed the older vampire’s gaze to the door. Quinn had just re-entered the bar. Drake felt a flash of irrational anger as Sebastian drank in the sight of her. She was extraordinarily beautiful, even Drake could not deny it.

“I must ask that you leave the members of the community alone, Sebastian.” Sebastian raised his brows at the implied instruction. “This is my home,” Drake continued calmly, deliberately excluding Genevieve, “I have lived here for six years without drawing attention to myself and it would do me no good if you start stirring up trouble.”

“Of course. I understand,” Sebastian smiled, “I will not harm any members of your... community, as you call it. However, as I will be staying a while, it is only courteous that I extend the hand of friendship to the locals.” He picked up his drink and got to his feet.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Genevieve hissed, her fangs protruding slightly, as Sebastian made his way to Quinn’s side.

“I told you, Genevieve, I want no part in it!” Drake’s gaze slid finally to meet hers and she recoiled at the venom in his arctic green eyes.

“Sebastian is my brother – he is welcome in my home,” she replied haughtily. “This has got nothing to do with you or the Quest.”

“We shall see,” Drake replied grimly.

Quinn had needed another drink after her close encounter with the vampire. Never in a million years would she have expected that he would be back here tonight, along with Genevieve and another vampire, who had just made his way across the tavern to sit beside her.

“Another brandy, please,” he waved his glass at Phil, “and whatever the pretty lady here would like.” He smiled charmingly at Quinn and again, she experienced the queasiness in her stomach, forcing a polite smile in return. “I am Sebastian,” he continued arrogantly.

“Quinn,” she extended her hand, but instead of shaking it, he turned it over and kissed her palm. It was a repulsively intimate gesture, but Quinn kept her composure. “Nice to meet you.” She drank deeply from the bottle that Phil set down in front of her.

“You okay?” the bartender asked, casting a wary eye over Sebastian.

“Fine,” Quinn smiled.

Mercifully there was not much time for conversation. Drake appeared at Sebastian’s side unexpectedly a few minutes later.

“We must go,” he addressed the vampire directly, not looking at Quinn. “We have things to discuss.”

Not about to let the opportunity pass her by, Quinn interrupted.

“Sebastian says he is a friend of yours?”

“Yes,” Drake confirmed, the undertone of a warning in his voice.

“How do you two know each other?” she persisted. He turned to glare at her, but Sebastian answered smoothly.

“Genevieve is my sister.” Quinn glanced over to the table, where Genevieve was watching them intently, a hateful scowl on her beautiful face.

“Well, it was good to meet you, Sebastian. I’m sure I’ll see you around town.”

“I have no doubt you will, beautiful.” He lifted her hand again, his lips lingering on her smooth skin. Quinn held Drake’s gaze over Sebastian’s white-blond head and then watched as they walked out together, Genevieve following in their wake.

Chapter 10

Three evenings later Quinn went for a walk to clear her head. She would make the journey to Cliffdale soon - she could not put it off any longer. She was becoming desperate – her concern for Jack and Ava growing stronger by the day. Sarah had invited her over for movie night this evening, but Quinn had declined. She was already spending far too much time with the couple and thought that Todd might like to have some alone time with his girlfriend. As she returned home she saw a familiar figure standing on her porch.

“Sebastian!” she greeted him warmly, even as her mind raced. She had a stake in her anorak pocket, but using it would expose her.

“Good evening, Quinn,” his voice was mesmerising.

“What are you doing here?”

“I fear that Drake and Genevieve would rather be alone this evening, and, in the absence of any other familiar faces, I thought I would pay you a visit,” he smiled charmingly.

“How nice of you,” she played for time, “I was just thinking of heading over to Phil’s for a drink. Would you like to join me?” Quinn had taken two steps off the porch when she realised he had not moved.

“Are you going like that?” he indicated the sweat-pants she was wearing.

“Oh,” she laughed, “well, honestly, Phil doesn’t mind.”

“Perhaps you should change,” his eyes pierced hers and her stomach sank. Sebastian was using a small amount of his hypnotic persuasion, and to deny him would be tantamount to admitting that his vampire powers didn’t work on her. She might as well remove her wristwatch and shove her Guardian tattoo under his nose.

“Just give me a minute,” she rushed through the front door and raced up the stairs to her room, not looking back. She quickly dressed in a pair of jeans and a white tank top, covered it with a black leather jacket, and pulled on her boots, transferring the stake into the right one. Fetching a small vial of Cliffdale water from the duffel bag in her closet, she shoved it into her jacket pocket. Grabbing her purse, she made her way back downstairs.

Sebastian was still standing on the porch exactly where she had left him.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked innocently, choosing her words carefully. She could not invite him in. He said nothing, but a small frown creased his forehead. “Shall we go?” Quinn held up her arm and, after a moment's hesitation, he linked his own through hers.

The evening was a strained event, for Quinn at least. She had a lingering suspicion that Sebastian might suspect something, given that she had not asked him to wait inside her house. He was certainly charming, regaling her with stories and touching her arm frequently to emphasise some or other point he made. Although Quinn laughed at his jokes and asked the right questions, she dreaded the end of the evening, knowing that he would offer to walk her home.

They climbed the steps to the porch and Quinn turned to face him.

“Thank you,” she gushed, “for a wonderful evening.”

Sebastian tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. Alarmed, Quinn noticed his fangs were ever so slightly extended and she lowered her eyes to the floor, which is why she didn’t see it coming. Sebastian dipped his blond head, and, at the same moment, he lifted her chin with a long, pale finger, his lips meeting hers. Quinn froze, every fibre of her being screaming for her to stop him, to pull her stake from her boot and end this madness. A vampire kissing a Guardian was sacrilege – a hideous violation.

Her stomach turned, her blood pumping faster through her body as her anger was roused. Sebastian could hear the increased beating of her heart, obviously, and mistaking it for arousal; he probed deeper into her mouth with his tongue. Quinn was vaguely aware that, if Sebastian was anything to judge by, vampires were excellent kissers - it was no wonder humans were so intoxicated by them. But Quinn was no ordinary human and she was repulsed. Pulling back, she raised her hand to her mouth, her violet eyes wide. Sebastian smirked, taking her hand and leading her to the front door.

“Let’s go inside,” he ran his hand down her cheek and neck, across her collar-bone and then still lower. Quinn sensed the persuasion radiating off him. She had no choice, she could not let him in and he would know, immediately, when she denied him entry, what she was. Smiling up at him, she pulled his head down to hers again and used the distraction of the kiss to raise her right leg and rest her foot against the front door. She dropped one hand and reached for her boot, slipping her fingers inside and groping for the blunt end of her stake. Closing her eyes she started to withdraw it slowly.

“I said, let’s go inside,” Sebastian spoke against her mouth. Quinn didn’t answer and he raised his head from hers, comprehension dawning in his colourless silver eyes.

“Sebastian!” an authorative voice called from the street. Sebastian growled, his back taut as his muscles bulged beneath Quinn’s left hand. Furiously he whirled on Drake, who stood on the front lawn, his face half-concealed by the darkness. A strange look passed between them, and finally Sebastian shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’m afraid I have to cut this party short, Quinn,” he apologised over his shoulder as he started down the steps. Turning to face her as he reached Drake he blew her a kiss. “I will see you very soon, love.”

Once inside, Quinn leaned back against the door. She threw her head back and banged it hard against the wooden surface. Fool she thought to herself. She couldn’t be sure just how much Sebastian knew but she had certainly aroused his suspicion. She pulled the stake from her boot and gripped it tightly in her right hand. She wondered briefly whether she should call Liam or one of the other Hunters to take care of Sebastian, but that would mean the Guardians would know her location and they would come for her.

Determined to stay indoors for a few nights until she could come up with a plan, Quinn once again declined Sarah’s offer to come over the following evening. Instead, she ordered a pizza for delivery and settled down on the sofa with her laptop to do some Guardian research. Information that leaked onto the internet was very valuable to the Guardians as well as to the vampires. What many humans put down to hoaxes or urban legends was actually critical information for the Guardians, if you knew what to look for. Quinn’s closest Guardian friend, Piper, bore the responsibility of scouring the internet for anything related to Summerfeld, and Quinn had no doubt that right now Piper had stumbled upon something incredible. Her heart in her throat Quinn read the article again. It was in some disreputable paper that would publish just about anything, no matter how far-fetched, but the Guardians had long since learned that these were the most credible publications when it came to the supernatural.

“Pegasus,” Quinn breathed, barely able to comprehend what she was reading. The winged horses had been one of the first species that the vampires had eradicated – whole herds had been slaughtered and devoured. Although the Greeks had taken the Pegasus for their own mythology, their recording of the legend was not entirely correct. The Ancient Greeks had fabled the Pegasus a single, pure white winged stallion who had been sired by Poseidon, God of the Sea. As usual, the truth had been lost over time. There was never only one winged horse. There were whole herds of them, much like the unicorns. King Eldon had managed to save a few of the horned horses - the unicorns - which now lived in the Silver Oaks Forest in Summerfeld, but sadly he had not been able to do the same for the winged variety, who, although blessed with the ability of flight, had been far more trusting in nature than the unicorns and had not instinctively fled from danger.

The article Quinn had found documented how a tourist claimed to have seen the Pegasus while camping in a remote section of The Sea of Trees forest at the base of Mount Fuji, in Japan. The tourist had been dubbed an “attention seeker”, but the more Quinn investigated the forest, the more it made sense. The trees were so dense that they blocked out the sound of wind and with the additional absence of any wildlife, the forest was exceptionally quiet. The Pegasus, much like the unicorns, were notoriously wild and skittish and preferred the quiet solitude of the woodlands where they would not be disturbed.

Quinn was interrupted by a gentle knock at the door and glanced up through the living-room curtains to see one of Phil’s waitresses holding a large pizza box.

“Come in,” she called, “the door’s unlocked.” Immersed in the article it took a few seconds to register the soft thud. Tossing the laptop aside, Quinn got to her feet in the same instant that Sebastian rounded the corner and stepped into the living-room.

She had invited him in, she realised, how could she have been so foolish? She hadn’t called by name and Sebastian must have been standing outside when she invited the girl in. Glancing down, she saw a dark ponytail protruding from the hall.

“What have you done to her?” Quinn demanded, not bothering to feign innocence. Sebastian knew... He knew that Quinn was aware that he was a vampire. No more pretences.

“She’ll live,” Sebastian replied, as though they were in the middle of a polite conversation. “Now, Quinn, I think you and I need to have a little chat.”

Quinn edged around the table, backing away towards the kitchen. In her pyjamas, she didn’t have a stake on her or any weapon she could use, but even a knife would be better than nothing. With Sebastian’s vampiric speed she would never reach the hidden weapons room, but she might make it to the kitchen. Throwing caution to the wind she turned and bolted. He was upon her before she had even taken two steps, grabbing her by the neck and throwing her backwards. She flew through the air and struck the railing of the stairs, hard, before dropping painfully to the floor. Stars burst in her vision and pain erupted in her head, neck and back. Her Guardian reflexes kicked in and she scrambled to her feet, her arms raised in front of her, her hands balled into fists.

Sebastian cocked his head to one side, surprised by her defensive stance. An ordinary human would have been knocked unconscious, or at the very least, would not have been able to get up.

“What are you?” he murmured, advancing slowly towards her. The thought that a Guardian would be living out here, alone, in the middle of nowhere, was so absurd that Sebastian clearly hadn’t even considered it.

“Get out of my house,” Quinn spat back. He blurred in front of her and the next instant his hand closed around her throat, lifting her into the air so that her feet dangled below her. Quinn’s hands scrabbled against his fingers, trying to prise them off so that she could draw breath. She had suspected that Sebastian was a very old vampire, and it was true, she had never encountered one so strong. A shadow crept into her peripheral vision, edging it in darkness as the oxygen levels in her body dropped drastically. Desperately, she struck out with her foot and caught Sebastian between the legs. In considerable pain, he loosened his grip for just a second, but it was all she needed.

Quinn tucked both of her legs up beneath her and then kicked them forward, connecting with Sebastian’s torso. Her own Guardian strength – a combination of years of training and the magical blood of the Summerfeld wards – did what no ordinary human’s could, and Sebastian released her, stumbling back and landing hard on the wooden floor. Quinn doubted she would get another opportunity to strike, but without a stake she was defenceless. Launching herself forward, she catapulted over Sebastian and hurtled towards the kitchen. As she reached the pantry cupboard, he grabbed her by the hair from behind and tossed her back into the living-room. She landed on the glass coffee table, the sound deafening as the glass shattered beneath her, shards embedding themselves in her back and legs. Only semi-conscious, Quinn tried to pull herself out of the wooden frame, but every movement was agony as the glass pressed deeper into her flesh. Sebastian loomed over her, but his attention was diverted and he looked towards the living-room window. Quinn turned her head, understanding why the sound of glass shattering had seemed so amplified. The living-room window had also been shattered by the tall man standing just outside the house, his face morphed into a mask of unadulterated fury. Drake.

“Invite me in,” he ordered, tearing his eyes from Sebastian to glance meaningfully across at Quinn. She opened her mouth to do as he said but Sebastian was too quick for her. He hauled her up, clamping an icy hand around her throat, his smug arrogance blinding him to the thin, lethally sharp fragment of glass she clutched in her right hand. Quinn couldn’t breathe, let alone speak, but as Sebastian turned to sneer at Drake through the window, she raised her arm and plunged the crude weapon into his neck. Blood spurted onto her face and chest as Sebastian released her, his hands reaching for his throat. Quinn dropped to the floor at his feet, coughing violently. Gasping, rubbing her neck, she looked up into Drake’s frantic green eyes and croaked, trying to get the words out.

“Come in.”

Chapter 11

Quinn’s voice was hoarse and barely more than a whisper, but it was all Drake needed. Like an animal he flew through the window, faster than her eyes could track and then he was upon Sebastian. Sebastian had been weakened and was unprepared for the viciousness of Drake’s attack. Quinn crawled past them heading for the kitchen, but then her eyes fell on something lying on the floor near their feet. A splinter of wood – a remnant of the recently demolished coffee table. It was rudimentary, but by no means less effective. Quinn grasped it in her hand and held it tightly as she got unsteadily to her feet.

Sebastian and Drake were locked in combat, duelling to the death. Neither could allow the other to live. Quinn lifted the rugged stake to shoulder height and moved as close to them as she could.

“Drake!” she yelled. Despite the fierce battle he was engaged in, his green eyes met hers, and then moved to the stake in her hands, comprehension dawning on his face. For just a second, his eyes narrowed, and Quinn wondered if she had made a mistake, had misjudged him. Threatening to kill one of his own kind was a pretty big deal. Then, without warning, he grabbed Sebastian by the shoulders and spun him around, pinning his arms to his sides and exposing his chest. Knowing she had only a second before Sebastian broke free, Quinn didn’t hesitate. In one swift movement, she lunged forward and plunged the stake through Sebastian’s chest, into his heart.

The older vampire stiffened and then slowly, his body started to turn grey. Drake dropped him to the floor and they watched as the vampire elder decomposed, until nothing remained but a pile of ash.

Quinn was till trying to recover her breath, her entire body aching and sore. There was no one point of pain, but rather an encompassing agony. She staggered slightly and Drake caught her arm, marching her across to the sofa. It had all happened so quickly that Quinn had not given any thought to her neighbour, until she heard Sarah yelling. The noise must have alerted her to trouble.

“Quinn!” Sarah raced in through the open front door, leaping over the waitress’s inert form, and skidded to a halt before them. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Quinn muttered.

“You’re not!” Sarah took in her extensive injuries. “What happened? Did you do this to her?” she rounded on Drake angrily. Drake stepped forward taking Sarah by the shoulders and forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Quinn is fine. She is not hurt. Her window was smashed by vandals. You will remember nothing else.” Sarah relaxed, her body slumping slightly in his grasp as Drake continued, “I was never here. Go home and sleep.”

It was no secret that vampires can exert a powerful hypnosis over their human victims, but watching it first-hand was nothing less than creepy. Quinn shuddered, grateful that she was impervious to their mesmerising persuasion.

Sarah nodded meekly and then turned on her heel, exiting the house without so much as a backward glance. Noticing him wincing slightly as he turned back towards her, Quinn realised Drake had sustained greater harm than she had initially thought. He sat down heavily on the sofa beside her, but Quinn couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“I will take the girl back to the bar when I leave. She will not remember,” Drake spoke first.

“Thank you.”

“You will be all right. Quinn,” he continued when she didn’t answer, “it is of the utmost importance that no-one finds out what happened here tonight.” She nodded vaguely and he reached over and jerked her arm, unbalancing her. She almost toppled off the sofa and into the large pile of ash. Steadying herself, her anger roused, she turned to glare at him.

“What was that for?”

“If anyone finds out that you know about us, you will not live to tell the tale. Fair warning.” His words were cold and hollow.

“No vampire will get to me,” she retorted haughtily.

“Ah, but you forget... I’ve been invited in.” He smiled; a cruel, calculating smirk and Quinn felt a wave of nausea pass over her. Drake may have saved her life but he was not to be trusted.

Drake whistled as he made his way home. He would not tell Genevieve what had become of her brother – let her think he had left town. Sebastian was gone, much to Drake’s pleasure. There would be no more talk of the Quest, no more hidden innuendos and polite courtesies. This was his town, and with Sebastian gone, it would remain so. Quinn was the only loose end. Surprised that she had survived Sebastian’s attack, Drake mused as to whether he should simply kill her himself. It was too great a risk to have her here in Brookfield knowing what he was.

Quinn still felt tender when her alarm went off at four a.m. the following morning, but most of her wounds had healed. The magical blood that the Guardians were imbued with gave them the ability to heal far more quickly than ordinary humans, although it certainly didn’t stop them from being killed. She didn’t know which species' blood she had to thank for this gift – possibly that of the unicorns, who seemed to possess a miraculous health. There would be no better time for her to visit the Cliffdale Cathedral. With the sighting of the Pegasus, the Guardians would mobilise in order to try and find the last survivors of the winged horses that had long been believed extinct. She might never get another opportunity like this. The Guardian in her, that she tried so hard to suppress, yearned to go and seek the animal herself – her blood crying out to join the search and ensure that the Pegasus, if it truly existed, be removed to the safety of Summerfeld – protected from the vampires who would no doubt be hunting it. They too scoured the internet for clues that would enable them to complete their Quest and destroy every supernatural being which remained. Quinn pushed the urge aside, thinking instead of Jack and Ava, and willed herself to focus on what was most important.

She dumped the black duffel bag onto the seat beside her and then backed out of the driveway. Sarah would make sure that the window was repaired. Quinn would call her when the sun came up. Heading away from Brookfield, she drove east, preparing herself for the long journey ahead.

The sun’s rays were only a half hour away when Drake turned into Ridge Road. He had changed his mind – Quinn could not be allowed to live, knowing his secret. He had never let a human learn of his true nature, not in all these years – not since Charlotte. He wasn’t about to start now. To his surprise, her car was gone. Cursing his delay, he stole in through the glassless window and moved up the stairs making no sound at all. A door to his left stood ajar and something bright caught his eye. Pushing open the door, he stared thoughtfully at the two beds with their clashing pink and blue bedspreads. Crossing to the closet, he took in the rows of clothing and the toys that lined the shelves around the room. Curiosity getting the better of him, Drake made his way back onto the landing and entered Quinn’s bedroom. He sat on the neatly made bed, his thoughts churning. Nothing made sense. Determined to get answers, he settled down to wait.

Chapter 12

While Balthazar explained the significance of the cornflower to the others, Melchior offered to make a quick supply run back to a gas station they had passed a few miles back. Jonas immediately volunteered to go with him. Anything to escape his father’s company – they had been closeted together in the Chevy for weeks.

Melchior was a man of few words and the short trip passed in mutual silence.

“I’ll get the gas. You go in and get some supplies,” Melchior growled, in his low, rumbling voice when they finally reached the gas station. He handed Jonas a few crumpled bills and Jonas unfurled his long, lanky frame as he stepped out of the car. “Essentials only,” Melchior added, as if Jonas needed to be reminded. The gypsies were always low on cash. What little they did have they had acquired thanks mainly to Rowena and a few of the other women in the camp, who offered love-potions and crystal ball readings to unsuspecting people at various fairs. It was a load of horse-shit, obviously. If gypsies could tell the future they would be a lot richer. Their fortune-telling was nothing more than a cheap trick - a simple combination of natural intuition and learning to read cues. The love potions too, were a farce, but Rowena’s other potions – which cured ailments and certain sickness, were legitimate, a gift passed down to her by her ancestor, Jasmine.

Jonas entered the store and made his way across to the minuscule bakery section in the corner, ignoring the disdainful wrinkling of the cashier’s nose. He had long gotten used to the contemptuous attitude of the people who he came into contact with. The jeans that he wore had belonged to his father, and were at least long enough, but they were two sizes too big, and he had cinched them in at the waist with an old piece of rope. His T-shirt, which must once have been black, was a dull, washed-out grey, and his shoes were so perished that a filthy, overlong toenail poked through. The cashier - a pretty, gum-cracking blonde, averted her eyes as he glanced over at her.

Grabbing four loaves of bread, Jonas turned to scan the store for milk. That’s when he spotted her; a girl, standing only a few feet away, examining a wide variety of colourful bags of crisps as though she couldn’t decide which to choose. She was only a year or two younger than he was, small and slight of frame. She might have been ordinary if it wasn’t for her hair. Fiery red, it seemed to glow as it trailed over her narrow shoulders and down her back, ending only an inch or two above her waist. She hadn’t seen him yet, but he would have to pass her to reach the milk. Suddenly he minded the state of his clothing far more than he had a second ago.

Slouching, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible, he moved towards her. Only when he was right beside her, did she become aware of him.

“I’m sorry,” she announced in a high clear voice, “am I in your way?” She turned to look up at him, a small smile playing about her lips. Jonas couldn’t believe the light, luminescent colour of her green eyes, creating a dazzling contrast to the deep red of her hair. She was not beautiful, not in the traditional sense, but Jonas thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her skin was pale and reminded him of peaches and cream, which admittedly, he had only ever tasted once, on his tenth birthday. Rowena had sneaked them to him, making him promise not to tell his father. The girl’s smile faltered under his scrutiny, and Jonas waited for the invariable disdain, but her expression didn’t change. Her kind, open gaze didn’t linger on his drab clothing as he had expected, but instead, held his own unabashedly.

“Not at all,” Jonas replied, “I can wait.” The aisle was too narrow for him to pass unless she turned her body and pressed it against the rows of shelves.

“I don’t know what I’m in the mood for,” she announced, turning back to the crisps. She gnawed the inside of her cheek, trying to decide. “Which are your favourite?”

“Salt and vinegar,” he replied instantly. They were the only ones he had ever had.

“Really? They make my tongue hurt.” She deliberated a little longer and Jonas was content simply to watch her. “I think I’ll go with cheese, just to be safe.”  She decided suddenly, snatching up a large bag and moving back along the aisle. Jonas followed, feeling ridiculously tongue-tied.

“What do you need?” she called over her shoulder as they emerged on the other end.

“Milk.” He held up a couple of half-gallon bottles as proof.

“Could you pass me two bottles of water?”

“Sure,” handing them back to her, his fingers brushed against hers.

“I’m Monique, by the way,” she smiled, tucking the bottles under her arm and extending her hand. Jonas glanced down at it – the clean, neatly shaped fingernails such a startling contrast to his own – grubby and bitten to the quick. Hastily rubbing his hand on the back of his jeans, he took hers, noticing the smooth softness of her skin, which was warm and friendly.

“Jonas,” he mumbled, embarrassed. His own hands were rough and calloused from the hardships of a life on the road. Monique didn’t seem to notice, though, and she pumped his arm enthusiastically.

Jonas suddenly found he didn’t want to leave this store – he wanted to stay and chat, like any other normal teenager. Inwardly, he seethed once more over the injustice of it all. The fact that he had no friends; that he could not go to school or lead any semblance of a normal life. Outwardly, he smiled back at the captivating girl before him, holding her hand for a little longer than was necessary.

“So, do you go to school around here?” she asked lightly.

“Jonas!” Melchior’s gruff bark came from the front of the store and Jonas cursed the older man’s impatience.

“There you are!” Another voice – feminine and slightly breathless – announced, and Monique turned to grin sheepishly at a woman standing beside Melchior, who could only be her mother. The older woman’s eyes were blue, not green, but they had the same mouth, and there were red undertones in her dark hair.

“Jonas,” Melchior repeated, his patience wearing thin.

“I’ll see you around,” Jonas muttered awkwardly, turning on his heel and making his way to the counter to pay for his purchases.

“Seventeen-thirty,” the cashier intoned hollowly, not even bothering to look up. Jonas handed over the money, his eyes boring into her forehead. Her dismissive attitude irked him, particularly since Monique and her mother had come to stand in line behind him.

“Here’s your change,” the cashier finally met his gaze and Jonas heard the sharp intake of breath. It had happened countless times before, but it irritated him far more than usual, that someone would suddenly find him more interesting because of his face. He knew he was good-looking, in a dark, brooding way, but it was hardly comforting that someone would take an interest in him when not ten minutes before she had turned up her nose at his dishevelled appearance. Monique hadn’t done that, he thought wryly. She had been nice before she had even looked up at him.

“Thanks for shopping with us,” the cashier continued, her tone far friendlier than before. Jonas heard Melchior’s derisive snort. The cashier’s eyes roamed Jonas’ face, an inviting smile playing about her lips. “Please call again,” she added.

“I’m waiting to pay,” Monique snapped irritably, drawing the teller’s attention, and Jonas grinned as he walked away.

When Jonas and Melchior arrived back at camp, Jonas felt relief that the convoy were showing all the signs of an extended stay. Cooking utensils and make-shift wash lines had been erected, and all the vehicles were parked in a circular formation, with the camp in the centre. They were not far from the road, but would not be seen by any rare traffic, hidden as they were by a rocky outcrop of boulders.

“We’ll stay here until we learn more,” Balthazar announced as Jonas took a seat beside him on the hard ground.

“Here?” Jonas questioned, surveying the harsh, dry territory.

“For now.”

“I want to go to school,” Jonas replied bluntly.

“What?” his father’s frown of confusion would have been comical if Jonas hadn't been so deadly serious.

“School,” he repeated. “If we’re going to be around here for a while, I may as well try and get some semblance of an education.” Jonas had attended a couple of schools when he was much younger, but it had got to the point where saying goodbye was too hard, and then, as he got a little older, the merciless teasing from the other kids had put paid to any further attempts. Rowena home-schooled him - she taught the few kids in their community. It was necessary, given their nomadic lifestyle, and most of the women were either teachers or healers. As if drawn by Jonas’s thoughts, Rowena appeared beside them, a small frown creasing her brow.

“It’s not you,” he murmured, worried he might have hurt her feelings. “I just need to get out of here, even if it’s only for a few hours a day.”

“Jonas,” Balthazar sounded disappointed and angry. “We have work to do here.”

“What work? What can I possibly do that someone else can’t? You’re watching the roads – you don’t need me for that. Until you find whatever it is you're looking for, we're all in limbo. At least let me do something constructive with my time. I’ll take evening shifts keeping a look-out, if you want me to.”

Balthazar opened his mouth to deny his son’s wishes but Rowena silenced him with a brisk shake of her dark head, tendrils of her cloudy hair whipping free of her braid.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” she interrupted and Jonas turned to her gratefully. “And as to your shifts – if I’m not having to prepare your lessons, I’ll have plenty of time to take them. He needs this,” she continued, casting a meaningful look at Balthazar, “and you have no valid reason for denying him.”

Jonas whooped in glee before Balthazar could say another word, getting to his feet and lifting Rowena off the ground in a bear-hug.

“You're the best!” he grinned, and she was struck once again by how like Balthazar he was. His heavy-lidded sloe-eyes were so dark it was impossible to tell where the iris ended and the pupil began, unless you looked really closely.

“You need a haircut,” she ruffled his dark curls fondly. Rowena had never had children of her own, but being with Jonas since birth she doubted she could love him any more, even if he was her own flesh and blood. She watched him saunter away, relishing his happiness, before she turned to face Balthazar.

“Don’t,” Rowena held up a hand. “If you keep pushing you’re going to lose him, Balthazar. Just like all the others. Times have changed – the younger generation do not fully understand the gravity of the search and no matter how much you wish it, Jonas will never be as committed as you are. The very least we can hope is that he remains with us. I do not want to lose my son because of your stubborn pigheadedness.”

Balthazar mused over her words. He was angry that she had granted Jonas permission against his will, but there was truth in what she said. And it always thrilled him to hear her refer to Jonas as her son. Rowena was as astute as she was sexy, and, knowing the best way to silence her lover, she climbed across his lap, shifting slightly so that they were as close as possible. Distracted, Balthazar knew he would forgive her anything when her soft, warm body pressed against his like this. Oblivious of the others milling around them, he placed his hand over the curve of her breast, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

“I’ll let him go if you marry me,” he murmured coaxingly.

“You’ll let him go because I will make it worth your while,” she replied wickedly, dropping her head and kissing him.

Chapter 13

It took two days for Quinn to make the journey to Cliffdale – an isolated, deserted place, charmed by the Fae so that humans would never venture anywhere near it. As she drove over the crest of a hill, the Cathedral came into view, nestled in the valley below her and Quinn caught her breath. Despite her ambivalent feelings, she could not help but appreciate the breathtaking view. She had forgotten how beautiful it was. Almost a thousand years old, the Cathedral had been built by King Eldon himself to house the Gateway. Taller than any man-made basilica, enchanted so that neither mankind nor vampire could find it, the Cliffdale Cathedral was so magnificent that to simply lay eyes on it was to feel the magic of the Fae. The towering, stone building sparkled in the rays of the sun. The mortar had been mixed with gemstones which carried the magic of its enchantments and protection.

As she descended the hill, the vast, stained-glass window that adorned the front of the building came into view. The riot of colour portrayed a beautiful young girl weeping at the feet of the Pegasus. King Eldon had created the image of his daughter, repentant, at the feet of one of the first mystical creatures that had been lost due to her actions. Whether or not Princess Enah had truly felt remorse or not, no-one but King Eldon himself had known, as his daughter was never seen again by anyone else once her treachery was discovered, until her death. Princess Enah had never recovered after losing Julian and she had remained in man’s realm with her father after the City was created, only to die of a broken heart.

Quinn parked her car among the trees that ran along the eastern side of the Cathedral. She did not want to alert anyone to her arrival. Making her way through the long grass she heard birds singing all around her and butterflies danced amid the blooming flowers. Although man did not come near this place, fauna were attracted to its enchantments and flora blossomed. Climbing the marble steps in her two-day-old jeans and tank top, Quinn suddenly felt ashamed. This place was sacred – the most sacred place on Earth, other than the City of Summerfeld itself. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and pushed open the enormous wooden double door, its ornate carvings familiar – most of the Guardian’s stakes were engraved with the same symbols.

“Hello Quinn,” a soft voice sounded as she entered the atrium and the doors closed behind her. Quinn turned her head to face the tall, thin man. His eyes were liquid amber and his grey hair appeared in stark contrast to the youthfulness of his face. Isaiah had been only eighteen when King Eldon had made him a Guardian, but his hair had greyed prematurely when he was only a boy.

The tallest of all Guardians, Isaiah, like Daniel, was one of the original two. Unlike Daniel, however, Isaiah was a peaceful man and was the keeper of the Cliffdale Cathedral, protector of the Gateway to Summerfeld. Daniel was a Hunter. He led the search for vampires in the realm of man and had killed more vampires than any other Guardian. Daniel would not be involved in the search for the Pegasus. Hunters did not seek the lost – their sole purpose was to hunt and destroy the enemies of the Summerfeld’s wards. Daniel, along with the other Hunters – Liam, Garrett and Blair would not have travelled to The Sea of Trees forest. That would no doubt have been Quinn’s father, Braddon’s, charge, along with the others – Lucas, Rourke and Tristan. Piper would be scouring the internet ready to feed them any new information. That left Quinn alone with Isaiah.

“Isaiah,” Quinn returned the greeting, inclining her head slightly out of respect.

“There are a lot of people looking for you,” he pointed out enigmatically.

“I know.”

“Fear not, I will not call them back. A Guardian may lose her way from time to time, as you have done, but I believe you will return to the fold when you are ready.”

Quinn had suspected as much - that Isaiah would not give her up to the other Guardians, which was why she had taken the risk. Isaiah was an honourable and compassionate man.

“Isaiah, you know why I am here. I need to find...” Isaiah held up his hand to silence her, the silver wristband he always wore covering his Guardian tattoo.

“Quinn, please do not mistake my intentions. While I sympathise with your plight I do not deny that it is a fool’s errand. The children are safe. They will be taken care of. Your duty is to those who remain in the City – they need you.”

“My niece and nephew need me.”

“Not as much as we do,” he smiled sadly. “There has always been discord amongst the Guardians.” Quinn refrained from mentioning that her father would disagree. “I have seen it, countless times. We are only human, after all, and it is in our nature to argue and be in conflict with one another. King Eldon may have overlooked this when he so rashly gave us the role of the protectors of the Ark.” Only Daniel and Isaiah ever referred to Summerfeld as the Ark – a direct comparison to the Ark of Christianity, which itself was a safe haven – a vessel for the remainders of all known animal species.

“I’m not asking for much, Isaiah. Just a few years... and then I will return.” He shook his head at her words.

“Sadly, young Guardian, I cannot grant them to you. You will not find the children. You should return and save yourself the disappointment of failure.”

“So you will not help me?”

“I cannot help you,” he corrected. “And neither will Piper,” he added, as though reading her thoughts.

It was nothing less than Quinn had expected, but the blow was still hard to bear. This was why she had come – to appeal to the one Guardian she had thought might help her - might be compassionate enough to understand. Isaiah never left the Cathedral and she had hoped that he would allow her to appeal to Piper, but she had been wrong. Raising her head haughtily, she pushed back her brown hair, her tanzanite eyes flashing with frustration and anger.

“Are the children in Summerfeld?”

“No.”

Her father had said the same.

“I will search the City myself, Isaiah. I don’t believe you.”

“By all means,” he ignored her blatant disrespect and stepped aside, sweeping out his arm and inviting her forward. “The City is your home as well as theirs. You will never be denied access, so long as you wear that mark,” he indicated the white S-Shaped tattoo on her wrist which was hidden beneath her wristwatch. “I assume your crystal is safe?” he continued pleasantly.

“Of course,” she conceded, bowing her head respectfully once again and regretting her earlier accusation.

The truth be told, she knew Isaiah wasn’t lying. He was noble and honourable, and he would not stoop so low as to lie to her face. The children weren’t in Summerfeld – of that she was certain, but she still needed to check. She had no other plan, and, if she was honest with herself, she wanted to visit the City. Most Guardians spent the majority of their time in Summerfeld. Quinn had not been back for two years and now that she was so close, she suddenly needed to reconnect with that life.

She walked through the atrium and her gaze slid over the council table to the left of the altar. Twelve seats for twelve Guardians; two of which had been empty for two years – hers, and Avery’s. Her seat was empty by choice, but Avery’s... Quinn shook her head, refusing to allow the sadness to consume her. As she slowly climbed the stairs to the high altar, her eyes swept over each column that she passed. On each of them words had been etched in the white marble, passages from the Sacred Book, a reminder to all Guardians of their purpose and the gravity of their task. No more supernatural blood could be spilled, no more death. The vampires hunted constantly, obsessively determined to carry out King Aleksei’s orders. They wanted every supernatural being eradicated and they would not stop. They would never give up the Quest, not in one thousand, five thousand or a hundred thousand years. The only hope that the Guardians had was to fulfil the prophecy. But the balance would never be restored, Quinn thought bitterly. The Guardians were chasing a literal fairytale.

Quinn approached the altar leaving Isaiah behind her. When she reached the top she turned on the spot, taking in the smaller stained-glass windows which bordered the vast apse. Each depicted one of the remaining supernatural beings, another reminder of what the Guardians stood for. Faery, dragon, werewolf, merman, gryphon, troll, giant, dwarf, firebird and unicorn. The ten surviving supernatural species. Technically, the vampires were the eleventh, but they were not to be protected. Behind her, directly opposite the glass portrait of Princess Enah, stood an enormous statue of King Eldon, the original Slayer, strong and powerful, his arm raised; a bloodied sword clutched in his hand. Following the line of the blade, Quinn’s eyes moved upward, to the very apex of the high-domed ceiling. It was so high that she had to squint to make out the detail etched at the top of the monumental pillars.

Dropping to a crouch beside the altar, she touched the empty circular hole carved out of the ancient stone. Above it, etched into the stone by Eldon’s own hand, was the symbol of a rose. The altar was not just the Gateway into Summerfeld, it was also the Rose Gate – the portal to the temple, into which King Eldon’s son, Wintyr, and his younger brother Xander had been sealed for a millennium, along with all the magic of the Fae. The temple had been created shortly after the City itself. Ashamed of the havoc he had wreaked, and guilt-ridden that he had taken the life of the vampire prince, Julian, Eldon had relinquished his throne to his eldest son, Wintyr. Wintyr and his younger brother, Xander, were sealed in a temple of sanctuary, hidden deep within the Cathedral of Cliffdale, for their protection – a place where no man, beast or being could get to them. Fearful that what Fae magic had done, Fae magic could undo, King Eldon had stripped the remaining Fae of their power, relying on the Guardians to protect them. The Fae magic was sealed within the Rose Temple along with his sons, to be released only when the temple was opened. For King Eldon, stripped of his magic and weakened by the loss of so many creatures, the pain of Enah’s death was unbearable and he died shortly after.

Quinn’s finger traced the rough grooves inside the circle, which depicted where each of the twelve crystals should go. In the centre, a perfect circle within the circle marked the place for the Hawkstone – the final piece of the puzzle and the key to opening the Temple.

“Only the Hawkstone can release the heir,” Quinn murmured, reciting a line from the Sacred Book.

“And the child will retrieve the stone,” Isaiah finished the passage. “You were always my favourite student, Quinn. Your knowledge of the book is second only to my own.”

“The Rose Gate will never open,” Quinn rounded on him angrily. “Wintyr and Xander are gone.” Isaiah simply smiled knowingly.

“I believe the portal will open when there is nothing left to defend the Ark but the magic of the Fae.”

“You expect Cliffdale will fall?”

“I think that everything that is happening now is a sign of a great danger coming.”

“You speak in riddles, Isaiah. How can a child possibly open that portal if the most powerful Guardians have yet to find the stone?”

“We are not meant to find it,” Isaiah stated simply, “and I don’t believe that the portal can be opened by force. It is not strength or power that is required.” A long silence followed this statement, broken only by the song of the birds outside filtering through the cavernous hall.

“Quinn, do not lose your faith. I believe you have an important role to play, one that you will only understand when the time is right. You are fighting against your destiny when you should be embracing it.”

“Like Avery did?” Quinn countered furiously.

“Avery was a loyal and disciplined Guardian and her death was a terrible tragedy, but your sister never possessed your talent or your spirit. You are a rare soul, unlike any other I have ever seen.”

Unable to bear the piercing perceptiveness in his gaze a second longer, Quinn averted her eyes and stared down at the altar, closing her eyes and uttering the words that would take her through the gateway and into the City of Summerfeld.

Chapter 14

Quinn opened her eyes and the scene around her had completely transformed. She stood in a large cobbled square, a simple stone water fountain before her. The Fountain of Youth, it was called by man, in his perpetual quest to find it; but no man ever would – King Eldon had created the fountain for the supernatural alone – so that those precious few who survived could live for eternity, safe in the protected City.

As Quinn watched, a horned stallion of shimmering white approached the fountain and dipped his head to drink. She stepped forward, placing a hand on his thick neck, and stroking his glossy coat. Taller than any ordinary horses, the unicorns stood over eighteen hands, and Quinn could just reach the top of the stallion’s back.

“Good to see you haven’t yet been ousted, Primera,” Quinn crooned, earning herself a baleful look. The unicorns, like wild horses, exist in a harem consisting of one adult male, several females, their foals and a number of immature horses of both sexes. Primera, as the dominant male, would drive out both colts and fillies when they reached sexual maturity to prevent in-breeding as well as to establish his dominance. Although there were a few smaller herds in the Silver Oaks forest that had banded together after being ejected from the main herd, Primera had obviously not yet been defeated by a younger, challenging stallion. Primera had been the herd stallion as long as Quinn had been a Guardian, and she dreaded the day that he would be bested by another and cast out of the herd. The dominant mare, Zinnia had been Primera’s primary mate for at least fifty years, although Quinn still remembered her predecessor, Dessa. Dessa had fallen ill inexplicably, and, while she had recovered, she was no longer fertile and could not conceive any new foals. Primera had shunned her from the herd and Zinnia had taken Dessa’s place. Dessa remained in the forest and had taken up with a smaller herd.

Primera raised his regal head and nudged Quinn’s shoulder gently, emitting a low, musical whinny and bringing her back to the present. So much for man’s mythology, which stated that unicorns favoured virgins, Quinn thought wryly. She had loved and lost human partners a few times in her hundred years as a Guardian, and then she had found Tristan, and she had hoped that she would never have to feel the pain of that loss again. Tristan would live as long as she would – old age would never take him from her. But she had lost him after all, and it had been far, far worse than ever before.

With one last snort into her shoulder, the white stallion turned on his heels and, with a flick of his long tail, galloped out of the courtyard. The unicorns preferred the quiet solitude of the Silver Oaks forest on the very outskirts of Summerfeld. When he had created the City, King Eldon had ensured that each species would have a natural habitat, and the quiet, eerie stillness of the Silver Oaks forest suited the spiral-horned horses far better than the City Square. While they trusted the Guardians, they were only truly comfortable with the Fae, and they would not tolerate the touch of any other supernatural creature.

Quinn walked slowly from the courtyard into the City square, home of the Faeries themselves, and the werewolves when they were in human form. She did not meet anyone along the way, although most of the inhabitants would have sensed her arrival. She stopped beside one of the smaller houses about half a mile from the fountain, surveying the sweet garden for a moment before heading for the house and knocking softly on the front door.

“Quinn,” Kellan greeted her as the door opened, before he had even laid eyes on her. Kellan was a Faery, and, like all of his kind, he was fair-skinned and tall in stature. Faeries were radiant, almost angelic creatures. Kellan’s long, white blond hair hung in a thick curtain down his back, save for two braids on either side of his face.

“Kellan, it’s good to see you,” Quinn stepped forward and the two embraced comfortably. Like all the supernaturals, the Fae had an intrinsic love for the Guardians who kept them safe, however, unlike most of the other species; they were very demonstrative with their affection.

“Where is Freya?” Quinn asked, glancing around the small living space.

“I’m here,” his wife called, emerging from one of the bedrooms. Like Kellan, Freya was tall and fair, her pale, aquamarine eyes so startlingly like her husband’s that the two could easily be mistaken for brother and sister.

Quinn’s eyes widened as she caught sight of the bulge of the Faery’s abdomen, and Freya smiled, patting her stomach fondly and nodding in affirmation. Quinn enveloped her in a bear hug.

“How long?” She practically squeaked with excitement.

“Just a few more weeks.”

The Fae were, by and large, infertile, and most couples failed to conceive. Their gestation period differed from humans – Fae women were pregnant for eighteen months. Faery babies were rare and each child born was a precious gift. Again, Quinn felt that surge in her blood – her Guardian instinct to protect this child.
“I was just heading out to Dragon’s Peak,” Kellan changed the subject abruptly and Quinn finally tore her eyes from Freya’s belly. Kellan had retrieved his bow and quiver from near the door and slung them over his shoulders. “Perhaps you would like to accompany me, Quinn?”

“Of course,” she replied, as Kellan shoved a hessian sack into the quiver, along with his arrows. The Fae were phenomenal marksmen, particularly the men, although Quinn had once seen Freya hit a moving hare from over a hundred feet away. Their bows, however, were harmless against the thick hide of a dragon and Quinn raised her brow in question.

“We are low on meat supply,” Kellan explained. “I saw a family of wild boar in the woods yesterday. We might stumble across them on our way back.”

Dragon's Peak was the tallest of Summerfeld’s mountain ranges, and, as its name implied, it was there that the few remaining dragons had made their home. Of all Summerfeld’s species, the dragons were the most worrying. Infertility did not affect them, but this did not stop them from destroying each other. Unused to living in such close proximity, the dragons constantly fought over territory, the victors taking out whole clusters of eggs. Slowly, the dragon population had started to diminish. There had been over two hundred when King Eldon had created the City, but now only a quarter of that number remained.

Kellan led Quinn around the back of the house and through a small gate which led them out of the garden and into a huge cornflower field. Quinn couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the City’s setting. Summerfeld was undoubtedly the most exquisite place on Earth.

“Kellan!” a youthful voice called, and Quinn turned to find Velkan, Kellan’s protogee, striding toward them. Velkan wore his long hair exactly the same way Kellan did, the high points of his ears clearly visible, but his hair was a deep mahogany. Like Kellan, he had a bow and quiver slung across his shoulders, and he was wearing a hunting tunic.

“Velkan,” Kellan clapped a hand on the younger mans shoulder. “I will not be needing your help today after all. Quinn will be accompanying me.” Velkan did not argue, or show any emotion. Instead, he bowed respectfully.

“It is good to see you back, Quinn,” he murmured.

“I’m not back,” Quinn quickly corrected, “but it is good to see you, Velkan.”

“We’re low on supplies,” Velkan turned back to Kellan. “Perhaps I should go out hunting?”

“Good idea. I was going to try and track the boar on our way back...”

“I’ll do it,” Velkan offered, before he had even finished speaking. This was the nature of the Fae, their willingness to help others and each other.

“Thank you,” Kellan replied gratefully. “Safe hunting.”

As Velkan walked towards the woods, Kellan smiled across at Quinn, before facing the trees on the other side of the field and emitting a high-pitched whistle.

“So, why are you heading up to Dragon’s Peak?” Quinn asked while they waited.

“The last remaining female Chumana has a cluster of eggs, but her mate was killed by an Orochian male three days ago. It’s only a matter of time before he finds her nest.” Quinn felt the pang of loss. The Chumana, the most beautiful of all the dragon species, was smaller than the others, the colour of their scales ranging from red to orange to the brightest yellow across their bellies. The Chumana had been struggling for survival for the past two hundred years, as the bigger, more vicious dragons picked them off, but the loss of the last surviving male threatened the end of their species. Quinn understood now what the hessian sack was for. The eggs needed to be protected, to ensure that the Chumana survived. Quinn’s protective instinct overtook everything else and she tapped her foot impatiently.

“There they are,” Kellan murmured, and Quinn squinted into the distance. Sure enough two unicorns had emerged from the trees edging the field and were galloping towards them, their manes and tails flying. The unicorns were faster than ordinary horses, their longer legs able to cover more ground.

They stampeded directly towards Quinn and Kellan, and, just as it seemed that they would mow the two down, they skidded to a halt only a few feet away, dropping their handsome heads and waiting expectantly. Quinn reached down and the mare beside her snorted gently into her hand before stamping her hoof on the ground, crushing a few cornflowers in the process. Unicorn mares were easier to ride, being slightly smaller than their male counterparts and having a broader back.

“Etana and Sheehan,” Kellan gestured first at the unicorn closest to her and then at his own mare. Kellan knew the calling name of almost every unicorn in the herd – he had named most of them himself.

“Hello Etana,” Quinn stroked the silky white mane of the gorgeous mare and then, in one swift movement, she grabbed a fistful and hauled herself up onto the unicorn’s back, tucking her legs into the space just in front of Etana’s powerful back legs.

“You ready?” Kellan called briskly. In answer, Quinn squeezed her legs against Etana’s powerful flank and held on tight as the mare reared up and then surged forward, Quinn’s spontaneous peal of laughter carried on the wind behind them.

They continued on in silence, the steady drumbeat of the unicorn’s hooves on the ground marking their progress. To the northwest, Quinn could see Giant’s Castle – a mountainous area nowhere near as high as Dragon’s Peak. Giant’s Castle was home to both the giants and the dwarves, the two species able to live in harmony with one another.

Quinn looked east and she could just make out Lunar Grove in the distance. Habitat of the werewolves at the full moon, Lunar Grove was a woodland sanctuary in which they could roam freely in wolf form. The werewolves, true to their wolf nature, were pack animals led by an Alpha male. Only the Alpha pair would reproduce, which, in Summerfeld, meant that there were few challengers to the Alpha’s rule, however, every now and again, a young male would rise up against his sire and take over as pack leader.

“Is Rafe still the werewolf Alpha?” Quinn called across to Kellan, the thought occurring to her. It had been two years since she had last set foot in Summerfeld, and, though she highly doubted it, things might have changed. Rafe had been the Alpha for an unprecedented seventy-four years when Quinn had left the Guardians to take care of Jack and Ava. She liked Rafe... he was very sociable and gregarious by nature, but a fair and worthy leader.

“No,” Kellan called back, startling her. “He was attacked by a newcomer called Caleb a few weeks ago. Rafe survived,” he added, and Quinn exhaled a sigh of relief. Typically, the new Alpha would kill the previous one because there was not enough territory in Summerfeld for lone wolves to exist in harmony with the pack. “He’s a lone wolf now.”

Quinn whistled in surprise. So Rafe would not be allowed back into Lunar Grove. Werewolves, like their ordinary wolf counterparts, were highly territorial. Lunar Grove was big enough for only one wolf pack and the Lunar pack occupied that territory. There had never been a lone wolf in Summerfeld, but Quinn knew that they tended to be more aggressive and far more dangerous than the average pack member.

“How will he hunt?” Quinn asked solemnly. The full moon was not too far off and a single wolf would have a difficult time bringing down a deer on his own. Kellan slowed Sheehan to a walk so they could talk and Quinn pulled Etana up beside him.

“Channon is with him,” Kellan explained, “but he’s violently angry with her.”

Quinn wasn’t surprised that Rafe would be furious with Channon. Channon was Rafe’s breed mate – his wife, for all intents and purposes. Traditionally, when a new Alpha took control of the pack, he also took possession of the existing Alpha female. Channon should be safe within the pack now, being dominated by the new Alpha – Caleb, Kellan had called him.

“What are they going to do at the full moon?” Quinn asked.

“We’re still not sure. It’s next week,” Kellan glanced skyward automatically, although only the sun was visible. “They may need to be separated during the transformation.” Quinn agreed. If Rafe was angry enough he could pose a real threat to Channon.

“Are they staying in town?” Quinn asked. After all, the wolves were only in wolf form one night a month – the rest of their time was spent as humans.

“Yes, but none of the others will speak to them.” Wolf hierarchy applied, even to their human interactions.

“I’ve never heard of Caleb,” Quinn had racked her brain but she was fairly certain that the name didn’t ring a bell.

“You wouldn’t have. He was only brought into Summerfeld a few weeks ago. Your father found him.”

Chapter 15

Quinn was astounded. Caleb was a werewolf who had been living in the realm of man. No wonder he had challenged Rafe – he was a lone wolf who had been deposited in the middle of an existing pack. And, being a loner, he would be stronger even than the pack Alpha, although far less comfortable interacting with others. It made more sense now, why Channon would have left the pack, if an aggressive, angry Alpha had taken Rafe’s place. His dominance would be merciless.

“Where did my father find him?” Quinn asked and Kellan smiled secretively.

“Quinn, you should know. You are a Guardian, after all.”

“You know why I left,” she pointed out.

“The children?” he sounded sympathetic enough, and Quinn suspected that his own impending fatherhood gave him a new perspective.

“I have to find them, Kellan. Jack and Ava need me.”

“We need you,” he replied softly, no trace of accusation in his tone.

“No harm will come to the City,” she tried to reassure him, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Quinn realised that, as their protector, the wards of Summerfeld might feel abandoned. She had, after all, chosen Jack and Ava over her duty to defend them. Pushing aside her guilt she changed the subject as the mountains came into view before them.

“Has Caleb chosen a bond mate yet?”

“No,” Kellan seemed to understand that she didn’t want to talk about the Guardians anymore, and he continued easily, “Cassandra is desperate for his attention, but he seems intent on claiming Channon for his own – as he should.”

“Channon is a person; she should have a choice.”

“Channon is a wolf – a member of the Lunar pack,” he corrected. “She has a duty and an obligation. She’s upsetting the natural order – even Rafe knows that.”

They both fell silent as they approached the mountains and Quinn glanced upward, squinting through the mist that surrounded Dragon’s Peak. As the shadow of the crag fell over them, Quinn could feel Etana quivering nervously beneath her as they skirted the edge of Lake Avalon.

“We should walk from here,” Kellan announced, sliding down from Sheehan’s back and giving her a hard pat on the rump. While the dragons would never attack the Guardians, Fae or any of the wards outside of the mountain range, they were highly territorial and would feast off the unicorns quite happily for venturing into their territory. Even Quinn and Kellan were in danger, for overstepping the boundary and coming onto dragon soil.

Starting at the base of Dragon’s Peak, Lake Avalon stretched almost a mile away from Quinn. She bent down and dipped a finger in the water, which was icy cold, nestled as the lake was in the shadow of the enormous mountain, a perfect natural habitat for the merfolk. Quinn had only ever seen a merman once, and that was before she had even become a Guardian.

As she stared at the rippling water she recalled the day clearly, since it had been her twelfth birthday. She and Avery had been living in Summerfeld almost seven years and this was the furthest they had ever ventured from their home.

“Avery!” Quinn panted, chasing after her sister. Avery laughed gaily and stepped into the cool shadow of the mountain, while Quinn, further behind, squinted against the bright sunlight.

“We’re not supposed to be out here,” Quinn whined as she reached her sister, casting a nervous glance up at the misty mountain. “The dragons...”

“Scared of the big bad dragons, are you, little sister?” Avery teased, referring to the fact that she had been born seven minutes earlier than Quinn.

“You should be too,” Quinn scolded seriously.

“Here it is,” Avery breathed. She only had eyes for the lake, and even Quinn was distracted. Lake Avalon, home of the merfolk. They had found it.

“Do you think we could call them?” Quinn whispered, and Avery gave a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Why don’t you try?” she grinned. Quinn narrowed her eyes at her sister but she stepped forward, kneeling at the water's edge, the skirt of her summer dress trailing in the lapping wetness.

“Hello,” she called softly, "is anybody there?” She half-expected a mermaid to appear before her, but Avery’s howl of mirth beside her had her back on her feet instantly, her cheeks burning. Embarrassed, she opened her mouth to yell at her sister, but a sudden shriek sounded above them and her blood ran cold in her veins.

“Dragon!” Avery screamed and Quinn lifted her head to see the dark form rushing towards her.

Frozen with fear, she saw the fire shoot from the ugly black mouth and she waited for the flames to engulf her. Cold wet hands grabbed her waist and she yelped in fear, but her cry for help was cut off abruptly as she was pulled beneath the icy surface of the lake. The cold pierced her skin like needles and she watched as the light from the surface above her became smaller and smaller as she was pulled deeper into the lake's murky depths. Struggling against her captor’s hold, she turned and froze as she came face to face with a golden-haired merman. His face was beautiful and he shook his head slowly from side to side, wordlessly warning her not to struggle.

A fiery red light lit the surface of the lake above them but Quinn barely had a moment to register that the merman had saved her life when she was suddenly streaking through the water - so fast that she had to close her eyes. She concentrated on holding her breath, her need for air becoming dangerously desperate. And then, unexpectedly, they broke the surface and Quinn gasped, drawing in a huge lungful of air. Avery was coughing and spluttering beside her, supported by a merwoman with a halo of the same golden hair as the merman. They were on the opposite side of the vast lake, right near the shore and Quinn could make out Dragon’s Peak in the distance. They had travelled a mile under the water in just a few seconds.

“Thank you,” she murmured, meeting her saviour’s onyx black eyes. He had no pupils that she could discern, just a solid black iris. He was somehow both terrifying and beautiful. As soon as she could, Avery screamed, her voice echoing across the lake. Quinn swam towards her and grabbed her arm.

“Quiet!” she hissed, and Avery closed her mouth abruptly, the sight of Quinn seeming to calm her instantly. Quinn was surprised that Avery had been the one to be so terrified. Avery had always seemed so much braver than she was.

The girls made their way to the shore and sat down in the mud, trying to slow their racing hearts.

“You should not have come here,” the merwoman spoke, her gutteral voice in stark contrast to her soft, eerie beauty. Quinn could not answer and Avery simply continued to sob piteously at her side.

“You are the daughters of Braddon?” the merman asked, in the same raspy voice.

“Yes.” Quinn cowered in new-found terror. She would rather face the dragon again than her father’s wrath when he heard of their disobedience. They had been warned never to venture too far from town, and though they had explored almost every inch of Summerfeld, this was the first time they had been caught.

“We will not tell your father of this, Guardian child,” he rasped, ignoring the sudden outburst behind him as the merwoman noisily disagreed, “but be warned, only a true Guardian can visit this place and walk away from it to tell the tale.” Without another word he sank back below the surface of the lake. The merwoman behind him remained where she was for a long moment, her cold obsidian eyes boring into Quinn’s, and then she too departed, leaving the girls wet and shivering and far from home.

“Quinn?” Kellan called softly and Quinn tore her eyes from Lake Avalon to face him. “We should get going; we don’t have much daylight left.” Nodding, Quinn followed him upwards as they started to climb.

Being nocturnal, the dragons were less likely to detect them during the day, particularly if they were quiet. On they climbed, making good progress, until Kellan stopped suddenly and crouched low on his haunches. Quinn knelt beside him, realising they had reached a small canyon, hollowed out in the mountain. Kellan pointed to an outcrop below them and Quinn stared in wonder at the cluster of burnt-orange eggs, nestled in a groove in the rocks below. She counted quickly – there were eight in total. Only eight remaining Chumana dragons. They both ducked behind a sheer rock face as a flapping noise alerted them to the return of the mother, who came to rest on a broad, flat plateau of rock about fifty feet above the egg cluster. She was beautiful; smaller than the other species, but her wondrous colouring – shades of beech leaves in the autumn – set her apart. It also made her an easy target, highly visible against the colourless grey stone of the mountain.

“How are we going to get the eggs?” Quinn whispered. Dragon's acute night-vision made it imperative they retrieve the eggs before nightfall. That left a mere two hours.

“I was hoping she would be out hunting,” Kellan replied, “but it looks like she’s already done that.” They both eyed the remnants of a mountain ox that lay scattered around where the Chumana female had settled.

“She won’t venture far from those eggs without her mate to stand guard,” Quinn pointed out, her spirits dropping. She had to get back to the Cathedral and away from Summerfeld before the Guardians returned from their search for the Pegasus.

While they watched, the Chumana suddenly rose onto her powerful back legs, her face searching the sky. She emitted a low, threatening hiss, and, for a second, Quinn feared she had caught their scent. Then Kellan pulled her to the ground as an enormous dark form loomed out of the mist above them. Quinn stared up at the dark belly of the beast that flew overhead and held her breath. It was an Orochian – fiercest and most dangerous of all the dragons – every scale on its ugly, gnarled body as black as night.

The Orochian flew straight for the cluster of eggs, ignoring Quinn and Kellan in its desire to destroy the last remaining Chumana line. Rearing up on her hind legs, the Chumana flapped her red wings, and with a snarl of rage, rose to meet her opponent. Fire erupted from her mouth, and the Orochian veered to the left to avoid being incinerated.

“Come on!” Quinn called, rising from her position on the rocky floor and sprinting towards the eggs. She leaped over a small crevice and almost lost her footing on landing, leaning precariously over a sheer cliff face before she righted herself. Kellan grabbed her arm and pulled her forward again, as the two raced hell for leather towards their precious target. The two dragons above them hissed and roared, and more than once Quinn felt a blast of heat, like an open furnace, whoosh over her.

Distracted by the Orochian, the Chumana female had abandoned her eggs, and, for the time being, she had not noticed Quinn and Kellan, but it was only a matter of time before she did, and then she would unleash her maternal fury on them instead.

They reached the cluster and began depositing the eggs into the sack that Kellan carried over his shoulder. It didn’t take long, although they were careful, and they started to retreat, back the way they had come, only this time much more slowly. Kellan could not risk breaking the precious eggs he carried. Dragon eggs' outer shells were hard and durable – even fire-resistant - but the eggs would not survive a fall from this height. Quinn sensed the second that the Chumana realised her eggs were gone. A high-pitched squeal sounded above them, louder than any they had heard before, and Quinn raised her eyes to see the fiery red dragon bearing down on them. Quinn scoured the ground around her. Just up ahead, a small outcrop of rocks provided a way down.

“Kellan, go!” she pointed at the make-shift stairs and Kellan immediately clambered over the edge of the rocky path, dropping nimbly onto the rocks below. He lifted his arms to help her, but Quinn shook her head. “Go!” she iterated, turning on her heel and running, as fast as she could, down the original path they had taken. She had to lead the mother away; Kellan would never outrun her carrying his precious burden. Quinn sprinted, leaping over rocks and scrabbling across boulders. More than once she slipped, grazing her body painfully on the jagged surface, and all the while she realised that one wrong step and she would be flung out into the void, plummeting to her death.

She heard the hiss behind her that signalled that the Chumana was about to mow her down in a breath of fire, and, just in time, she threw herself behind a large boulder. The fire streaked around her, missing her by inches, and the boulder itself sizzled with the intensity of the heat. Knowing that the dragon would need a few moments before she could launch another attack, Quinn didn’t hesitate. She vaulted forward and kept running.

She was descending the mountain much faster than was sensible, but she didn’t slow down. Now that she was moving downhill, the Chumana had to circle around in order to attack and this was buying her some time. She prayed that Kellan had made it to safety – the path he had taken was steeper and required climbing, but it was a direct route and a much faster way to the base of the mountain.

Twice the Chumana breathed its fire at her and on both occasions she managed to avoid being burnt to a crisp. The third time the Chumana circled, Quinn realised too late that she could not hide. The dragon approached her head-on and the only escape would be to vault off the mountain. As Quinn couldn’t fly – that would be suicide. She watched in horror as the Chumana flapped her dazzling wings, bringing her closer and closer in a matter of seconds. Quinn dropped to her knees, lifting her arms to shield her face, but she could not take her eyes off the sight before her. She thought of Jack and Ava and how she had failed them. She should never have come back. In the final seconds the Chumana opened her mouth and Quinn heard the deadly hiss that signalled the fire to come.

She saw the flames burgeoning in the massive throat and, in the same instant, the Orochian hit the Chumana broadside, at full speed. The larger dragon slammed the younger female brutally into the side of the mountain. In her weakened state, and pinned as she was, the Chumana could not retaliate, and Quinn watched, frozen in horror, as the Orochian used its massive claws and jaws to tear into the smaller dragon. It was all over in a matter of seconds. The Orochian released its prey and the Chumana dropped down the side of the mountain, lifeless. The Orochian beat its black wings and turned its hideous head, its black eyes finding Quinn.

Chapter 16

Quinn bolted. She had only a few seconds before the Orochian managed to turn its body, and she shot past the place where it hovered, streaking down the mountain once again. As with the Chumana, the Orochian had to circle around to reach her, and Quinn only hoped she could evade its attack long enough to reach the bottom.

The first assault was easy enough to avoid – Quinn had anticipated the timing and she positioned herself next to a craggy mass of fallen boulders, waiting until the last second before dodging behind them. The second the fire stopped, she continued down the mountain. Quinn had been lucky until then, but abruptly her luck ran out. The front of her sneaker caught in a fissure and she crashed heavily to the ground, twisting her ankle in the process.

Cursing, Quinn lifted herself gingerly and tried to put pressure on her injured foot. A sharp pain shot up her leg and she almost collapsed. Searching the sky, she could see no sign of the Orochian, but she knew it would round the mountain any second now. Ignoring the agonising pain, she started to hop forward, putting most of her weight on her good leg. It was tedious and slow going, but she gritted her teeth determinedly and continued on. An enormous cliff face rose up beside her and she used it to steady herself as she hopped alongside it.

A bone-chilling shriek rent the air and the hair on the back of Quinn’s neck stood up. The Orochian had rounded the mountain and was diving towards her, its ugly maw open and ready to blast her with its fire. Quinn hopped forward, towards it, praying that she would find an opening in the cliff face, or a way down before it reached her. The dragon’s wings beat the air relentlessly, bringing it closer and closer, and, once again, Quinn was reminded of that fateful afternoon with Avery. There were no merfolk to save her now – no one but herself. She wouldn’t give in. Still hopping forward, she kept her eyes fixed on the gruesome beast.

Suddenly someone stepped into her line of vision, blocking out the terrifying sight of the Orochian. He grabbed her around the waist and pushed her forcefully backward. Quinn braced herself, expecting to slam into the cliff face, but instead, she was plunged into a cool, dank darkness. Kellan had come back! She sighed in relief, feeling dizzy and clung to him desperately – all her fear and emotion overwhelming her.

She felt the heat of the dragon’s fire – intended for her – blast past the entrance to the small cave, and then smiled weakly at the furious screech that followed.

“You’re okay, Quinn,” a low, melodious voice murmured in her ear, while two strong arms encircled her. Focused on the distant flapping of those great black wings, it took Quinn a moment to notice that the voice was deeper than Kellan’s, and that she would recognise it anywhere.

“Tristan!” she yelled angrily, taking a step back and away from him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Saving your life?” he retorted angrily. As Quinn’s eyes adjusted to the darkness she could just make out the line of his jaw, and his tousled, deliberately messy hair. His blue eyes looked black in the darkness.

“I thought you would be out searching for the Pegasus,” Quinn blurted out without thinking and for a second his face fell.

“We just got back..., wait a minute... you’ve been keeping tabs on us,” the indignation in his voice was understandable, “you tried to avoid me?”

“Yes,” she replied defiantly.

“Quinn, don’t do this. Please. You’re one of us.”

“What about Jack and Ava?” Quinn hissed, the disappointment in his voice stirring up feelings that she didn’t want to feel.

“What about Jack and Ava?”

“Don’t you care about them at all? Don’t you think they deserve better than what the Guardians have in store for them?”

“How would you know what the Guardians have in store for them? It’s hardly as if you ever stop to listen.” His comment caught her off guard but she quickly returned to the attack.

“Your children deserve to be loved, Tristan!”

“I do love them!” he thundered, grabbing her by her shoulders and shaking her so hard her teeth rattled in her mouth. “They are my children, Quinn. Mine! Not yours! You don’t get to decide what’s best for them.” He released her suddenly and her injured leg gave out. She dropped to the ground painfully, her thoughts a maelstrom of confusion. Tristan knelt beside her, seemingly contrite after his angry outburst.

“Quinn, I’m sorry. I just... miss her, so much,” his voice broke and Quinn’s eyes widened in surprise. She had not spoken to Tristan since Avery’s funeral, and that had only been to yell a few harsh words of accusation at him before her father had dragged her away. Tristan had not responded and Quinn had built him up to be a monster in her mind over the past two years. He had visited the children very seldom and Quinn had always made sure that she was long gone by the time he arrived, leaving her father to chaperone. She realised this was the first time she was witnessing Tristan’s reaction to Avery’s death firsthand, and he seemed genuinely distraught.

“I should never have left her,” Tristan continued, oblivious to Quinn’s epiphany. “Maybe I could have stopped them. I might have saved her,” he broke off as his emotions overwhelmed him.

“Why did you leave her?” Quinn asked, her words kinder than she had intended. The Orochian’s cries were growing fainter.

“I was told to,” it sounded so simple, “that’s how it works, they said. Avery was to return too, you know.” Quinn’s eyes bugged in her face.

“What?”

“Avery was a Guardian too – I don’t think there’s ever been a case like that. She was told that she would have to leave the children and return, and she was okay with that. She understood,” he shrugged desolately. “They gave her more time, obviously, and said she would have access to Jack and Ava, but that they would be raised by another couple who would love them like their own.” A pregnant pause followed these words until Quinn couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Who?” she demanded, a niggling suspicion coming over her. “Who were Jack and Ava to be sent to?” Tristan’s words, when they came, confirmed that her hunch was correct.

“Kellan and Freya.”

“I don’t believe you. Avery would never have allowed it,” Quinn got angrily to her feet. “She loved the twins – she would never have consented to letting them go.”

“She did,” Tristan assured her. “Don’t you see, Quinn? You have to let this go. Braddon told us that you want what Avery would have wanted for the twins. Well she wanted to protect the City. You don’t have to prove anything - if you want to fulfil Avery’s wishes, return to the Guardians.”

“I... I can’t,” Quinn shook her head. “Jack and Ava need me. It’s not their fault that both of their parents were Guardians. If you and Avery hadn’t ever...” she trailed off as the conversation took a turn into uncomfortable territory, “if you hadn’t met, they would have been born to at least one human parent and they would have been raised by that parent.”

“You’re still blaming me for falling for Avery?” he smiled bleakly.

“This has nothing to do with that,” Quinn snapped. How dare he make this about what had happened between them.

“Tell me Quinn,” Tristan changed the subject, “do you not feel the kinship? The loyalty to the inhabitants of Summerfeld?”

Quinn thought of the crippling agony she had felt when the female Chumana had been slain by the Orochian. She had felt it deeply, in her blood, in her very soul. A tearing, agonising pain over the loss of one of her wards – an animal she was sworn to protect.

“I do,” she admitted.

“Then come back. You cannot fight your instinct forever.” His words echoed Isaiah’s sentiments, angering Quinn.

“My instinct is first and foremost to protect those children,” she countered. “Once that is done, I will return.”

She couldn’t bear the stifling atmosphere that being closeted so close to Tristan induced for a moment longer and she limped out of the cave, with Tristan right behind her. The Orochian was long gone by the time they emerged and the sun had set, darkness enveloping them. The moon shone feebly in the black sky and Quinn thought idly of Rafe and Channon, and how they would fare during the next full moon.

As they headed down the mountain, Tristan supported her with his right arm, and Quinn felt the heat of his skin through her thin black tank top. She wanted to push him away, but she needed his help descending Dragon’s Peak – her ankle was healing, but still tender.

“Do you know where they are?” she asked eventually, breaking the tension that was building between them. She hoped against hope that he would know where Jack and Ava were being kept. Tristan shook his head.

“I don’t.” Despite her reservations, Quinn believed him.

“Quinn! Tristan!” Kellan called to them as soon as they were within earshot and he hurried towards them. They had reached the base of the mountain and Kellan was still clutching the laden hessian sack.

“You made it,” Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. The Chumana eggs were safe – the species would survive. Then she remembered Tristan’s words and she turned away from Kellan abruptly, unable to contain her anger as she gazed upon him.

“Tristan, why are you here?” Kellan echoed her earlier words. Quinn had forgotten all about her initial question.

“I came to deliver a message to Isaiah,” Tristan replied. “When he told me that Quinn had entered the City, I came to find her. Freya pointed me in the right direction.” Quinn was too angry to comprehend what he was saying, but Kellan grasped the significance of his words straight away.

“What message?” he asked, a frown creasing his pale, normally unlined forehead. Tristan’s reply took Quinn’s breath away.

“Rourke is dead.”

The Pegasus had not been in the Sea of Trees Forest. It was doubtful that the winged horse had ever really been there. The vampires had planted a false seed, a trail that they knew the Guardians would be unable to resist following. They had been ambushed, Tristan explained. As Quinn had suspected, no Hunters had joined the search for the Pegasus – an exploratory mission did not require it. Daniel, Liam, Blair and Garrett would not have accompanied the others. And, while ordinary Guardians are more than capable of dealing with vampires, the group had been impossibly outnumbered. It was a wonder that Rourke was the only casualty.

“My father?” Quinn gasped, but Tristan placed a reassuring hand on her arm.

“Your father is fine. Everyone made it out – everyone but Rourke.” Rourke had been a Guardian even longer than Quinn and she had always liked and admired him. His death was a great loss to the Guardianship. He was also the first Guardian to be killed since Avery and secretly the others feared his replacement would not come forward either. Would their number slowly be reduced until none remained? Again, Quinn wondered if something had gone wrong – if Eldon’s magic was fading away, or if the Guardian charm was broken.

“We should get you both back to the Cathedral,” Kellan interjected, lifting his fingers to his mouth and whistling as he had done before. “In the meantime, I can help with that,” he gestured at her injured ankle. He pulled a small leather pouch from his pocket and rubbed a healing salve directly onto her skin, leaving her with only a slight tenderness in the affected area. Even without their magic, the Faeries' knowledge of plants and natural remedies was amazing. Quinn’s own accelerated healing would do the rest.

Etana and Sheehan appeared shortly after, emerging from the dark, their horns gleaming in the pale moonlight.

“How did you get here?” Quinn asked and Tristan pointed at Etana.

“She brought me.” Etana gazed at the two of them, her liquid brown eyes seeming to hold a message that Quinn couldn’t decipher. Kellan pulled himself nimbly onto Sheehan’s back and the mare turned and trotted in the direction of the town.

“Shall we?” Tristan asked. Quinn could see no other solution, so she allowed him to help her up and then stiffened as he pulled himself up behind her, his tanned arms coming around her to grab Etana’s mane.

With a gentle kick to her flank, Tristan urged the unicorn into a canter and Quinn tried not to think about the nearness of the man who might not have betrayed her sister after all.

Chapter 17

They dismounted in the same cornflower field and Quinn stroked Etana’s muzzle fondly before patting her rump and sending her back to the Silver Oaks Forest.

“I’ll meet you at the Cathedral,” she told Tristan, “I want to speak to Kellan. Alone,” she added, as he opened his mouth to argue.

“What will you do with the eggs now?” Quinn asked as they entered Kellan’s garden through the little gate.

“I will simply keep them safe,” he replied, casting a curious glance in her direction. “Dragons’ eggs are very durable – they do not need much looking after. Once they hatch we will find a safe place for them until they can return to Dragon’s Peak. Quinn followed him into a small shed complete with fireplace. Over the years Kellan had nurtured more than his fair share of struggling hatchlings, but never before had he had to deal with a whole cluster. Also, he usually returned the injured baby to a mother who could protect it. These last remaining Chumanas had no-one, and could only be returned once fully grown and better able to defend themselves. They certainly wouldn’t fit inside this small shed for long.

“When you say safe place...?”

“One of the smaller mountain ranges, perhaps, I’m not entirely sure. Most of the City is occupied – and we need to find somewhere secluded where they won’t cause any trouble.”

“Cathedral Peak is isolated,” Quinn pointed out.

“But it’s too close to the others.” This was true. Cathedral Peak, while far from the other habitats, was only a few miles from Dragon’s Peak – the other dragons might detect the Chumana babies.

“I need to speak to Isaiah,” Kellan announced as he placed the eggs near the fireplace, “he may know of somewhere safe.”

“Will they breed?” Quinn asked. Dragons interbred all the time as their numbers dwindled, but she had never heard of sibling breeding.

“They should do. Sibling breeding is not uncommon, and, as long as the conditions are right, there should be no problem.”

“So why do you sound so concerned?” Quinn pressed. Kellan’s aquamarine eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as he smiled at her.

“I’m just worried we have eight boys here – or eight girls, for that matter.” Quinn didn’t return his smile. She was no longer worried about the dragons – the chance of all eight eggs producing one gender was practically non-existent – and she had more important matters on her mind. Kellan sighed.

“Why don’t we just get to it, then? I assume, judging by the anger radiating off you that Tristan told you that Freya and I were to be Jack and Ava’s adoptive parents?”

“Yes,” Quinn replied coldly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Quinn, I've known you a very long time. Maybe you've forgotten that Freya and I raised you and Avery during your time here in Summerfeld?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten. It was sixteen years of my life.” Her tone implied that they were not a happy sixteen years.

“You were not happy here – with us?” Kellan probed, sincere concern on his striking face.

Quinn realised she was being monumentally unfair. Kellan and Freya had treated both her and Avery as their own children – they had had many happy memories together.

“It wasn’t you, or Freya, Kellan. I hated the confines of this place. I belonged in the human world – with my own kind.”

“I understand,” Kellan smiled sadly. “Although from my side, our time with you and Avery is one of our most cherished memories. Now, as to the matter of Jack and Ava. Yes – Freya and I offered to raise them, as we had done for you – as we have done for many Guardian progeny. As you know, until very recently, we could not have children of our own, and it was an honour to be a part of so many young lives. Avery approached us directly, shortly after the twins were born, and asked if we would be the custodians.  We agreed without hesitation.”

“Avery asked you?” Quinn interrupted – this new piece of information leaving her stunned. How had she not known all of this? Why had Avery kept her in the dark?

“Yes,” Kellan smiled. “I would hardly agree to raise someone else’s child if they were against it themselves.” Quinn shook her head, trying to make sense of it all as he continued. “Quinn, it is an honour to help the Guardians – after all you do for us. And do not forget that we are family – our blood runs in your veins.”

“It’s hard to forget,” Quinn muttered. The blood of the ten that had been imbued in her when the white tattoo had branded her skin was what made her so fiercely loyal to the inhabitants of Summerfeld. Only one thing had proved stronger – her kinship with her family – the blood of her own. And yet, each day was a struggle – to deny her instinctive urge to put Summerfeld first.  “The Guardians protect Summerfeld at great cost,” Kellan continued as though she had not spoken, “please do not think that we underestimate the sacrifices that you make. Without you, we would be lost.”

Quinn gazed at Kellan thoughtfully. Avery had wanted him and Freya to raise the twins - she had asked them personally. Quinn still believed that her sister would have preferred Jack and Ava to grow up in the realm of man, but knowing this could never happen, she had turned to the Fae couple who she loved the most.

“Would you do it now?” Quinn asked, a lump forming in her throat as she voiced the question.

“Would you take Jack and Ava? If I return to the Guardians, could they come and stay with you?” If this is what it would take to know that Jack and Ava were protected, then she could do it. If she trusted anyone other than herself to love the children, it would be the Faery before her and his gentle wife.

To her astonishment, Kellan shook his head.

“We can’t, Quinn. We’re having a baby of our own,” he held up a hand to silence her as she made to argue. “It is not what you think. There is plenty of love in our home for three children. It is the teaching that our own child will be put through that poses the problem. It is up to us to teach him or her the magic that is passed down through our generations. We cannot allow human children to witness our teachings – it would be breaking the Taboo.”

“But you have no magic!” Quinn exclaimed. King Eldon had stripped the Fae of their magic and sealed it within the Rose Temple.

“Just because it is gone doesn’t mean we have lost the knowledge,” he smiled, “our magic will return when the temple is opened.” Again, the unshakeable belief in the Book, Quinn thought sardonically. “And when that time comes, only those who have not been taught will be powerless to use it,” Kellan continued. “Fae magic is powerful and not easy to wield. It could overwhelm an untrained user and do more harm than good. Our child must learn the teachings of our kind.” Quinn thought briefly of Princess Enah who had broken with tradition all those years ago and the tragic ending to her story. “Neither the Fae nor the Guardians would allow us to house the children now,” Kellan added desolately.

Quinn entered the house and thanked Freya, hugging her warmly and wishing her all the best in the forthcoming weeks.

“Will we not see you before the baby’s birth?” Freya asked, looking perplexed. Quinn met Kellan’s eyes over her shoulder.

“No,” she replied. Freya’s face fell, but she quickly hid her hurt.

“Well, it was wonderful to see you again, Quinn,” she forced a smile.

“You too.”

Kellan walked her back to the courtyard and they stopped at the fountain.

“Quinn, could you do me a favour?”
“Anything,” she answered, meaning it.

“Could you come back at the full moon?”

“Kellan... I... I’m not going to be very welcome.” Quinn had no intention of returning to Summerfeld until she had found and secured Jack and Ava.

“That’s precisely why I’m asking,” he replied mysteriously. “I need help with Rafe and Channon’s full moon transformation. The Guardians will have enough on their plate with Rourke’s death and the new replacement. You are the only one who has free rein to do as you wish - for now, anyway. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”

“I’ll try,” Quinn couldn’t think of a valid reason to deny him, but she would not make any promises.

“Thank you,” he nodded, squeezing her arm. He released her quickly as she closed her eyes to move through the Gateway.

Quinn heard them before she opened her eyes. The Guardians were back, she had been too long. Inside the Cathedral there was chaos. Everyone was yelling and Piper was crying. Piper and Rourke had been close, Quinn remembered – it had been Rourke who had trained Piper.

“Quinn,” Tristan hurried over to her before the others even noticed she was there. Great, thought Quinn. She had tried to enter the City undetected and now the entire Guardian council was here. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she answered, heading for the door, “I need to get out of here.” She passed Isaiah who simply watched her go.

“Quinn!” Daniel’s voice was one of authority and hard to ignore. Cursing her bad luck, Quinn swivelled on the spot to face him. “Sit down,” Daniel ordered, as the remaining Guardians took their places at the council table. Daniel was the complete antithesis of Isaiah. Shorter, with a barrel chest, his arms were muscular and for good reason. Daniel was as strong as an ox and he looked like a warrior, down to the shoulder-length sandy blond hair swept off his high forehead. Averting her gaze from his naked chest, the bronzed skin the colour of caramel, Quinn focused on the circular tattoos running down the length of his arms. Daniel still wore the original Guardian garb – complete with black leather pants, greaves and arm-bracers.

Tristan eyed Quinn and Daniel with concern, but Quinn ignored him. She had a choice – she could leave now and head back to Brookfield, but she had no leads and no idea how to find Jack and Ava. She had nothing to lose by staying and hearing out the council meeting, and, if she was honest with herself, she was far more affected by Rourke’s death than she cared to admit.

She took her seat beside the vacant chair that separated her and Tristan – a poignant reminder of Avery’s absence. Across the table, tears streamed down Piper’s face. The empty chair beside her had been Rourke’s.

“Where are Lucas and Garrett?” Quinn asked, craning her neck to search the Cathedral. Lucas was an ordinary Guardian, like she was. Garrett was a Hunter.

Despite Eldon’s protective enchantments, the vampires had sworn an oath to destroy the last of the Fae and their allies, and so they searched, relentlessly. Their Quest was perpetual, their thirst for vengeance never ending. Knowing the City’s inhabitants would never truly be safe unless the vampires were eradicated, King Eldon had selected four of the twelve Guardians as Hunters and used his magic to instil in them all the skills they would require to seek and destroy vampires, his magic turning their white tattoos black. There were always twelve Guardians of whom four were Hunters, and Daniel had been leading them since the beginning.

“On Guardian business,” Daniel snapped. Lucas, was, of course, actually baby-sitting the children Quinn was so desperately searching for. Garrett was in town, just a few blocks away. Daniel had sent him away the second he had heard Quinn was in Summerfeld so that she wouldn’t suspect anything. One Guardian missing a council meeting would rouse Quinn’s suspicions, and she would probably figure out that was where the children would be.

“What happened?” Daniel got straight to business and Braddon recounted the story of their ambush.

“I think it is safe to assume that the Pegasus is well and truly lost,” Isaiah intoned when he was done. The mood at the table was sombre.

“We have more pressing matters at hand,” Daniel rerouted the conversation, “the loss of our brother Rourke,” he added, casting an unusually soft glance at Piper, who sniffed loudly, “means that a new Guardian should be on his or her way.”

“How can you be so sure?” Blair interrupted. Blair Lindberg had been a Guardian for eighty years before becoming a Hunter over four hundred years ago. Other than Daniel and Isaiah, she had lived longer than any other Guardian alive. She was a formidable adversary, her vampire kill count second only to Daniel’s. With her cropped dark hair and short, athletic body, Blair was also completely unfazed by Daniel. She treated him with the same disdain she bestowed upon all the Guardians. And yet, Quinn was acutely aware that Blair had the most maternal instinct when it came to the Summerfeld wards. She loved each and every creature that lived within the City’s walls. “This is the first Guardian loss we have suffered since Avery,” Blair continued, impervious to the sensitive nature of the topic and Avery’s loved ones who surrounded her, “Avery’s replacement was never found. How do we know Rourke’s will emerge? Is there a possibility that the Guardian charm has been compromised – that our numbers will continue to dwindle?” Quinn had been thinking the exact same thing, but hearing it spoken aloud made the possibility all too real.

“King Eldon’s magic cannot be undone,” Daniel replied, turning to Isaiah for confirmation. Daniel had been charmed by King Eldon himself as one of the original twelve, but Isaiah had explored the Sacred Book most deeply – he knew more about the Fae magic than any other Guardian. Isaiah nodded, confirming Daniel’s proclamation, and Blair sat back in her seat, satisfied.

“Quinn,” Daniel turned to address her, his hair pulled off his face in a ponytail. His crossbow was slung across his back. Blair, Liam and Garret were dressed in more modern Hunter attire –black shirts tucked into black cargo pants and heavy-duty black boots. “You are back, I assume?” His eyes flashed angrily, daring her to contradict him.

“No,” Quinn met his gaze levelly, her own tanzanite eyes gleaming.

“No?” he exclaimed, and Quinn took a deep breath.

“I appeal again to the council to be allowed a leave of absence from my duties. You all know my reasons.”

An interminable silence followed her words and all eyes at the table seemed to focus on her accusingly. Quinn sat up straight in her seat, refusing to be intimidated. Daniel’s reply was almost identical to the one he had given her two years ago.

“The Guardians need you, Quinn. You have an obligation to Summerfeld.”

“I have an obligation to my niece and nephew.” Daniel smiled at that and played his trump card.

“Tristan is their father. Tristan, what say you? Are you happy with our decision to keep the children safe?”

Quinn rounded on Tristan, her eyes beseeching him to support her – to advocate that she be allowed to raise Jack and Ava. Tristan met her eyes and a myriad of emotion passed between them. Quinn held her breath, but, as Tristan dropped his gaze, she knew what his answer would be.

“Yes,” he admitted, “I believe the children will be safe. I think Quinn should return,” his voice was stronger now although he refused to make eye contact with her.

“You son-of-a-bitch!” Quinn felt tears spring to her eyes. He had betrayed her again. She was surprised how much it hurt.

“That is enough, Quinn!” her father called angrily across the table. “Tristan just saved our lives while you sat around feeling sorry for yourself! He single-handedly brought down half a dozen vampires. He deserves your respect, if nothing else.”

Quinn did a double-take. Tristan must be exceptionally skilled to have taken down six vampires on his own, and more astonishing, he seemed to have earned even her father’s grudging respect. Tristan had always showed enormous potential – she recalled how impressed she had been when training him – and he had obviously fulfilled that potential. Nevertheless, Tristan’s prowess was not her concern and she got to her feet.

“I will not abandon them!” she yelled back, mortification making her even angrier as tears spilled unbidden from her eyes. Everything was falling apart. Desperately she cast her mind around for a reason, an excuse – anything she could use to convince them. “What about Avery’s crystal?” she snatched at the idea.

“What about it?” Daniel asked.

“If I can bring you Avery’s crystal, will you allow me this time with them?”

“Do you have the crystal?” her father demanded.

“No,” she stammered, brushing the tears angrily from her cheeks. “But I can find it. Avery left me a clue.” She glanced at Tristan, hoping to gain some hint from his expression as to whether he might know where it was. Instead, she saw an accepting smile cross his face.

“What clue?” Braddon persisted and now Quinn smiled, through her tears.

“I have no intention of telling you that.”

“Dammit, Quinn, this is important! You know how valuable that crystal is. We cannot let it fall into the wrong hands.” Her father was apoplectic with rage.

“As I said,” Quinn replied calmly, “I will find it. And when I do, I will return it to you; in exchange for the children. Do we have a deal?”

“We have a deal.” To her surprise, it was Daniel who answered – his face an inscrutable mask.

Isaiah stood abruptly.

“I believe we have company,” he announced. Everyone fell silent and in that moment, a timid tapping sounded on the Cathedral doors. Everyone except Quinn remained seated as Isaiah made his way to open them.

“Welcome,” his voice carried back to them, and even Quinn held her breath as the new Guardian stepped into the atrium, her green eyes wide with wonder.

There was a collective intake of breath as everyone at the table gaped at the child beside Isaiah. She could not be older than fifteen, her long red hair pulled back in a neat ponytail that trailed down her back.

“Monique?” Tristan’s question rang out in the deathly silence of the cavernous room.

Chapter 18

The young girl’s eyes found his face in a flash of recognition and she ran towards him.

“Uncle Tristan!” she cried, throwing herself at him and hugging him tightly.

“Uncle Tristan?” Quinn asked over her slim shoulders.

“My niece,” he explained, “my sister’s child.”

Tristan had only been a Guardian for a few years, and Quinn was well aware that he had living relatives remaining in the realm of man. What didn’t make sense was that this child had been branded a Guardian at such a young age. Isaiah had been eighteen when he was branded, the youngest ever. Daniel seemed to be thinking along the same lines, and he roused himself from the catharsis of shock, stepped forward and lifted Monique’s wrist. The white tattoo was clearly visible.

“It’s true, then,” Daniel dropped her arm.

“Of course it is,” Isaiah smiled fondly at the child.

“How did you get here?” Tristan asked. Quinn completely understood the question – how had Monique travelled to Summerfeld on her own. Monique seemed confused by the question as though the answer was obvious.

“My mom brought me,” she replied, as footsteps sounded on the flagstone outside and they all turned to watch as a white-faced, shaken, and utterly human woman stepped inside the Cliffdale Cathedral.

The only good thing to come out of a human entering this magical place, Quinn mused to herself, was the fact that everyone seemed to have forgotten the issue of her leaving to search for Avery’s crystal. Daniel was in an uproar – never in one thousand years had an ordinary human crossed the threshold of the Cathedral, unless they were a child of a fallen Guardian, such as Quinn and Avery had been. In fact, as a result of the protective enchantments, no ordinary human had been within a few miles of Cliffdale. They would never cross through the portal, which was disguised as a sheer cliff face. To step over it would be tantamount to suicide.

Monique’s mother, Camille, was understandably shaken. She was a widow; her husband had been a helicopter pilot and had been killed in a training operation when Monique was only a few years old. A few days ago, she explained, Monique had packed up her things and announced that she had a journey to make. Unbeknown to Camille, the appearance of the inexplicable tattoo on her daughter’s left wrist was not an act of teenage rebellion and coincided with Rourke’s death. Camille had forbidden Monique to leave the house, but she had not bargained on the 15-year-old’s determination. Twice, she had snuck out, and the second time Camille had tracked her down over three miles from home. When Camille mentioned therapy, Monique had reacted violently, which was so completely out of character for the kind, peaceful child that a terrified, Camille had consented to driving Monique where she wanted to go.

“We stopped to get this,” Monique announced proudly, pulling a jagged emerald fragment from the pocket of her jeans.

“Where did you...?” Tristan trailed off as Daniel shook his head. The crystal, which had been Rourke’s, now belonged to Monique and the secret of its previous location was hers alone.

“You should hide that,” Isaiah advised gently, “somewhere only you can find it.”

“What is going on?” Camille asked breathlessly. “We thought you were dead?” she eyed her brother reproachfully.

“I’m sorry, Cami.” Tristan was genuinely remorseful. He had no words to explain it to her; she was human after all, and the Guardians’ secrets were not his alone to share. It would be up to Isaiah to decide just how much they would share with Camille.

“How did Monique find this place?” she continued, distraught, “I couldn’t even see it until we were practically on the doorstep and yet she knew exactly where to go.” She shuddered, recalling crossing through the portal.

“If you come with me,” Isaiah interrupted, “I will explain everything.” He indicated that they should follow him and proceeded through a side door that led to the archives room. Monique trotted along happily behind him, but Camille kept casting anxious glances over her shoulder. “If you could wait here, I will be back in a moment,” Isaiah offered Camille a chair, but she shook her head. Monique, however, collapsed casually onto a wing-backed armchair.

Isaiah returned to the others.

“That child cannot be a Guardian,” Blair, typically, addressed the elephant in the room.

“She is destined,” Isaiah contradicted, “she can, and she will be.”

“She’s only a child!” Tristan let his own shock show now that his family were out of earshot. At his words, a jolt of intuition surged through Quinn so quickly that she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, and the moment she tried to recall it, it was gone.

“She will learn; I will tutor her myself,” Isaiah soothed Tristan’s fears, but Quinn noticed that his gaze slid over her knowingly, as if he knew what had just happened.

Quinn got to her feet, deciding it was time to go. She was being dragged slowly and reluctantly back into her old way of life. Her curiosity was piqued, and she found that she wanted to stay to see how things would play out. She needed to get out of here before it got to the point that she couldn’t.

“Quinn,” Daniel halted her as she pushed back her chair, “you have one month.” Quinn nodded – it was more than she had expected.

“In the meantime,” Isaiah added, “feel free to come and go as you please. Summerfeld is your home, too.”

Quinn thanked him, feeling better now that she was not technically in hiding, although she doubted she would return to the City before her month was up. Even then, if she had not found the crystal, she had no intention of following Daniel’s orders. She would not stop until she could make the trade and get Jack and Ava back. Even if she had to run again to buy herself more time.

“Isaiah,” she called, as the grey-haired Guardian turned to head back to his new charge, “may I have a word?” He nodded and she followed him across the room and through the door to the archives. Quinn smiled briefly at Monique and Camille, and Isaiah promised them again that he would be with them in just a few moments. He led Quinn through the outer record room and into a small, cosy office behind it, gesturing to her to sit.

“What is it, Quinn?” She took a deep breath, knowing that what she was about to ask was tantamount to treason.

“I want to know if there is anything in the Sacred Book about reversing the Guardian charm.” There; she had said it. Isaiah, to his credit, remained impassive; at least on the outside, but when he spoke, his words were laden with sorrow.

“Are you saying that you want to leave us?”

“Yes,” she could not lie to the Guardian she held the most respect for. He said nothing, but his amber eyes did not leave her face. “I need to break the tie,” she explained quickly, “I am tired of fighting it, but I will, for as long as it takes. Nobody seems to understand but I have got to protect Jack and Ava. They are my blood; I refuse to put Summerfeld before them.”

“The lives of the children are but a drop in the ocean in comparison to the eternity that we will protect the City, Quinn. I have lived a very long time and I too have been tempted – wondered if my life would be better served taking care of my own. I have been where you are now – and I have come to realise that nothing is more important than protecting the surviving members of the supernatural. They are the very last of their kind and our most precious treasures. We cannot lose sight of that. Without us, they would perish and be gone forever. Jack and Ava are important to you, I understand that. But they are not in any danger. They will be cared for and loved. And in nineteen years they will be free to lead their own lives. One day you will look back on this futile mission and realise the insignificance of your undertaking.”

As passionate as his words were, Quinn refused to be swayed.

“Is there a way?” she insisted.

“No,” he answered, almost too quickly.

“Isaiah?”

“I have spent a thousand years studying the Sacred Book, Quinn. There is nothing in it that mentions a way to undo the Guardian charm.” Quinn sensed his words held both truth and lies, but he met her gaze levelly.

“I want to see the book – I want to see for myself.”

“Be my guest,” he gestured towards the antechamber where the book was kept, “but do you honestly think that you will find something in there that I haven’t?”

“Maybe you overlooked something...” Quinn faltered. The truth was, she had seen the book herself, had studied it – not as intimately as Isaiah, but certainly more than any other Guardian. And she had never come across anything that even remotely hinted at undoing the Guardian charm.

“Perhaps,” Isaiah smiled indulgently, “but I must get back to Monique and her mother. Feel free to take as much time as you need.”  With that, he stood and headed out of the door, back to Monique and her mother, leaving Quinn with the disturbing feeling that for the first time he was not being entirely honest with her.

Quinn said a very curt goodbye to the others, but she did hug Piper before she left.

“I’m so sorry... about Rourke.”

Piper smiled tearfully, pursing her lips to keep from crying. Piper had been Quinn’s closest Guardian friend after Avery, and she had turned to Piper for companionship when Avery and Tristan had started their romance. Without Piper, Quinn doubted she would have survived the first few months of their relationship. Piper had kept Quinn’s confidence – she had never enlightened Avery as to how Quinn really felt, or how serious Quinn and Tristan’s relationship had been.

“I’ve missed you,” Piper murmured and Quinn felt a stab of guilt. Piper had been there for her through her loss, and now Piper was the one who had lost someone and Quinn was deserting her. Piper, Quinn and Blair were the only female guardians and Blair was hardly someone who Piper could confide in. Maybe having Monique join the Guardians would give Piper someone to get close to. Despite her youth, Monique would grow up quickly in this world, and Piper’s sweet, sensitive nature was perfectly suited to help her adjust.

“I’m so sorry,” Quinn repeated, but this time the apology was for her own selfish actions.

“I understand,” Piper assured her, squeezing her hand.

“Piper,” Quinn tried her last hand, “the twins...?”

“I’m sorry,” Piper was apologising now, “I couldn’t tell you anything even if I wanted to. I don’t know where they are.”

“But you could trace them?”

“Maybe,” Piper admitted, “but I won’t.”

Quinn couldn’t blame her friend – her loyalty to Summerfeld came first, as it should – but her words drove home the fact that Quinn was well and truly on her own.

Tristan approached her as she reached the double doors.

“Quinn...” he trailed off and she kept her eyes on the expanse of wood. She had learned some things about Tristan over the past few hours that she hadn’t yet processed. She needed time to think. She waited a few seconds but he said nothing more, and, with one swift push, the doors flew open and she walked out into the dark night.

Daniel watched her go, a sombre expression on his tanned face. Brushing away a stray strand of sandy hair that had escaped his ponytail holder, he beckoned Liam and Blair over.

“Follow her,” he instructed, “find out what she knows. I want that crystal.”

Daniel Kaiser had lived two lives in his one thousand years. The first half had been spent with Emily – his soul mate. Emily had been a Guardian too for five hundred years until she was struck down by the vampires who had ripped her crystal from her bloodstained neck; the same crystal that had been passed to Emily’s replacement; and then to Quinn Harden.

A vampire drinking the blood of a Guardian was the most depraved, abominable sin, and every Guardian’s worst nightmare. A Guardian’s blood contained trace elements of Fae magic and, by drinking their blood, a vampire became more powerful, more deadly than ever. Until the blood had worked its way out of the vampire’s system, a Guardian would have no chance of defeating it and, worse still, a Hunter could not track a vampire with Guardian blood in its system.

Which was why it had taken so long to find Emily’s killers. They had fed on her until barely a drop of blood remained in her body, subjecting her to the most foul, degrading act of depravity and stripping away her dignity in the process. Her blood running through their veins acted as a cloak concealing them from Daniel and the other Hunters who had searched desperately, without success, until Emily’s blood had faded from their systems. It was different for the Hunters. If bitten, which was a rare feat for the vampires, they could track the vampire through their own blood. Painful, but necessary. It was one of the many skills that the Hunters possessed over the ordinary Guardians.

When Daniel and the others had found Emily’s broken body, such was the Hunters’ rage that their combined fury had culminated in a Slayer emerging. Daniel had never confided in the Guardians that it had been Isaiah who had torn that village apart, and, as the older Hunters fell, the secret had died along with them, until only Daniel and Isaiah himself knew the truth. The burden of the Slayer is hard enough for any Guardian to bear, but for one as peaceful as Isaiah it was that much worse. That night of bloodshed had been his last foray into man’s realm. Afterwards he had sought the sanctuary of the Cathedral, and Daniel had never pressed him to return. A Slayer’s instinct to destroy vampires is all-encompassing, completely overpowering every other human emotion and it would have destroyed Isaiah. Inside the Cathedral’s charmed walls Isaiah could not sense vampires at all and he could live in peace. There would never be another Slayer - not as long as Isaiah lived, but this was a secret known only to the two of them.

The second half of Daniel’s life had been far less joyful without Emily to share it with. He had, however, killed more vampires than any other Guardian. Hunting had become an obsession – no matter how many vampires he destroyed, it would never be enough. Nothing could bring Emily back, but he would not rest until every vampire on Earth had been destroyed. It was all he had to live for, now.

Chapter 19

“I absolutely refuse!” Camille stood with her hands on her hips. Tristan had joined them in the record room. A large number of dusty volumes were open on the desk. Camille’s eyes darted around the room like a cornered deer, as though searching for an escape route.

“It’s not exactly something you can turn down,” Tristan said kindly.

“Even if I believed everything that you’re telling me – which I don’t,” she clarified quickly, “Monique is far too young to get involved. I mean my God, Tristan – you’re talking about vampires. Vampires!” she gave a snort of hysterical laughter.

“All the more reason that she should stay,” Isaiah pointed out. “Understand, we cannot change what has happened. But it has happened. And Monique is not safe in the realm of man – your world,” he added as she looked confused. “She is protected here – the vampires cannot get into Summerfeld.”

“Why?”

“It is protected by powerful enchantments which have not been breached in a thousand years. This is the only way we can guarantee her safety.”

“Why would they want to hurt her? The vampires?”

“That is what they do.”

“Well then she can’t ever be allowed near them!”

“Monique will not be exposed to our enemies for a very long time,” Isaiah soothed, “she has to undergo vigorous training and has much to learn. I will tutor her myself.”

“She has school!” This was such an irrational argument that even Isaiah was at a loss how to respond.

“Mom,” Monique interrupted, giving the others an apologetic grimace, “I’m not going back to school.”

“Not going?” Camille swelled with indignation. “If you think I am letting you drop out of school, young lady...”

“Monique will be schooled here,” Isaiah finally found his voice, “if you wish, I will see to it that in addition to her Guardian training, she also gets a traditional education.”

“What, like home schooling?” Camille asked sceptically. She seemed determined to keep the conversation in safer waters – things she could understand.

“Mom, I’m a Guardian now. I’m not going to need to know things like Algebra and French.”

“Actually, French would probably come in handy,” Isaiah corrected, more for Camille’s sake than anything else. “Guardians travel all over the world and understanding the dialogue is always handy.” Camille blinked rapidly, torn between delight that Monique had been wrong and alarm that Isaiah was agreeing with her.

“Cami,” Tristan took a seat next to his sister and took her hand. They had the same clear blue eyes, but Camille’s hair was far darker than his blond. Monique came to stand beside him, facing her mother proudly. Monique had inherited her striking red hair and green eyes from her father, but the heart-shape of her face was just like her mother’s. “I know this is a lot for you to take in, but Monique has been marked. I am just as surprised as you – never before has a Guardian been so young – but it is what it is. She will not be able to leave; not because we will detain her,” he added hastily, as Camille’s head jerked up, appalled, “she won’t be able to leave because her heart won’t allow it. Being a Guardian is a calling – it’s in our blood.” Idly he lifted Monique’s hand and traced the white S-shaped tattoo. “The blood of the wards runs through her veins now... She is bound to protect them.”

Silent tears ran down Camille’s face as she gazed upon her child. Tristan would never lie to her; they had been as close as any siblings could be. She had mourned him for a very long time when she had been led to believe that he had died.

“Tristan, I...” she couldn’t continue, breaking into quiet sobs.

“I have an idea,” Isaiah murmured, stepping forward. “Perhaps it will be easier for you to accept if you see for yourself just what we are fighting for.”

Tristan’s eyes widened in shock.

“You’re going to take her inside?” he exclaimed. “Inside the City?”

“I don’t see the point of keeping her in the dark,” Isaiah replied calmly. “She has come this far.”

The Cathedral was far emptier now; most of the Guardians had passed through into the City, no doubt to visit their homes and get cleaned up. Only Piper remained, slumped at the council table, her eyes red-rimmed from crying.

“Piper,” Isaiah called gently, “could you keep an eye on things for me? I won’t be long.” Isaiah seldom left the Cathedral, and he would certainly never leave it unattended. As he waited for an answer the doors swung open and Garrett, the Hunter who Daniel had ordered away came through them.

“I saw Quinn leaving,” he announced, in explanation. “I figured it was safe to return.”

“Your timing is perfect,” Isaiah agreed. “I’m taking our new guests into the City. Please could you keep Piper company until I return?”

“Of course,” Garrett nodded, casting a curious glance at the two women. Isaiah turned back to Camille.

“May I?” he asked, holding out his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation she took it.

The second their feet touched the cobblestone in the courtyard Camille clutched her stomach. Tristan remembered the vertigo and the sensation of falling that he had felt the first few times he had passed through the Gateway.

“I’m going to be sick,” Camille croaked, “how can you stand that...” she trailed off as she gazed around, taking in the fountain and the beauty of the City square.

“Summerfeld,” Monique breathed, her face alight with excitement and wonder. She had come through the Gateway on her own, after a quick explanation from Tristan of how to do it.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Tristan muttered under his breath. Isaiah smiled.

“Monique brought her mother here as a Guardian, not a child. Her loyalty has already been established. I think it is safe to say that Camille is supposed to be here, she would never have found the Cathedral otherwise, even with Monique’s help. And don’t forget – Camille is descended from Guardians. A vestige of the blood of the ten runs in her veins, too. Many a Guardian descendent has visited the City – some, like Avery and Quinn, have even lived in it for years, despite not being Guardians at the time.” Tristan’s face crumpled for a second at the mention of Avery’s name, but he quickly regained control of his emotions and nodded that he understood.

“Can we see everything?” Monique asked, breathless with wonder, and Isaiah nodded.

“Before we continue there is something I have to say,” Camille looked pale, but resolute. “You say Monique must stay here - that she needs to live in this place?”

“Yes,” Isaiah answered, “it is essential for her training and crucial that we keep her safe. The vampires will stop at nothing to destroy the Guardians and Monique is nowhere near ready or equipped to deal with that. We do not take the safety of our own lightly.”

Camille nodded acceptingly.

“If I allow her to stay,” she announced, trying to cling to the notion that she still had a choice, “then I will stay too.” Tristan did a double-take, opening his mouth to deny the possibility, but Isaiah was too quick for him.

“Yes, I think that would be best,” he smiled accommodatingly.

“I still haven’t made up my mind,” Camille reminded them.

“Mom,” Monique groaned.

“I am certain that once you have taken the tour you will be inclined to stay.” Isaiah held out his arm invitingly, “Shall we?”

Chapter 20

Quinn was exhausted by the time she approached Brookfield the following evening. It was past midnight but she had made good time. Weary, depressed and in desperate need of a shower she looked forward to getting home. She had been vigilant and had ensured that no one had followed her back from Cliffdale. She didn’t want the Guardians to know where she was staying in case she needed more time. She was just cruising onto the Main Road a few miles from home when a dark shadow appeared directly in front of her car. With only a few yards' grace, she slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a halt just inches from Drake, billowing smoke rising in protest from her tyres.

Quinn’s brow creased in confusion as he stared menacingly at her through the windscreen, and then she shoved open her door.

“What the hell are you doing?” she yelled, emerging onto the deserted street and slamming the door behind her. Her stake was tucked into her boot and her exhaustion only fuelled her anger and irritation. Maybe staking Drake would make her feel better – although Genevieve would have served that purpose far better, she thought wryly. Drake had saved her life, she figured she owed him.

“I could ask the same of you,” his hypnotic voice carried across the dark, and his green eyes bored into her. “Where are your children Quinn? And why are you really here?” Quinn’s righteous anger overrode her common sense.

“You’ve been inside my house?” she thundered, so irate that she made the fatal error of failing to register that he was using his hypnotic persuasion, trying to control her mind. Drake looked as though she had struck him.

“I asked you a question,” he sneered, suspicion coming over him, and too late Quinn realised her mistake.

“They’re not my children,” she answered quickly; “they’re my sister’s. They’ve been taken – kidnapped,” she corrected, “I’m here because I’m trying to find them.” This all came out in one long-winded sentence, so desperate was she to allay his suspicion.

“Who has taken them?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then why would you think they would be here?”

“I don’t. I just needed a place to hide – to research. I was... scared... I thought perhaps they might come after me next.”

“You’re lying,” the words were so softly spoken that for a minute Quinn thought she had misheard him. It was impossible – a vampire could not detect a Guardian’s deception.

“How would you know that?” she breathed and his smug smile was all the answer she needed.

“I didn’t,” his voice was silky and ominous, “but now I do.” Quinn’s eyes widened in shock and horror. “Just because I can’t read your falsehoods doesn’t mean I don’t have exceptional intuition,” he continued, taking a step towards her, and she noticed his fangs were slightly extended. He must be furious. Quinn’s brain whirred, trying to think of a way out of this mess. She had her stake, but despite everything she didn’t want to use it.

“All right!” she lifted both hands in front of her in a submissive gesture. “I’m sorry. Yes, I lied. For some reason you can’t make me tell you the truth – Jude said I was a freak of nature,” she stuck to her original story – the vampire friend who had enlightened her as to their existence. “But I really am looking for my sister’s children. And I really am hiding here in Brookfield.” She met his cruel green eyes without any hesitation.

“Where have you been the last few days?” he probed.

“I can’t tell you any more than that.”

Drake considered this. He suspected she was telling him the truth; pieces of it, anyway. He had heard rumours of humans who were impervious to vampiric suggestion; perhaps Quinn was one of these rarities. Also, for some reason he didn’t want to kill her. It didn’t sit well with him, the thought of taking her life. Her fear and concern for her sister’s children was also genuine, he suspected, and for some reason this caused him discomfort. He didn’t like the fact that she was suffering and he felt an irrational anger towards those who had hurt her. He had come to something of a crossroad. In letting her live he was risking exposure and he had become accustomed to his life here in Brookfield. He couldn’t allow her to jeopardise what he had built and Genevieve would rip Quinn’s throat out in a heartbeat if she even suspected that Quinn knew about their real identities. There was only one thing for it. Keep your enemies close, Drake thought wryly.

“I will help you,” he offered. Quinn took a visible step backward, her striking eyes widening in surprise. He could not pinpoint their exact colour, but in the dark night they shone more violet than blue.

“That’s very kind of you but I don’t need your help.”

“Put your pride in your pocket, Quinn. You said it yourself – you have no leads. One thing about vampires – we’re very resourceful.” His wicked smile showed no trace of his fangs and Quinn could only wonder in relief at how lucky she had been to escape an outright confrontation. Drake couldn’t help her – she could not give him any information about the Guardians, but she would deal with that later. For now she had escaped, unscathed. Gratefully she accepted and headed home.

Despite the lateness of the hour Quinn checked the house from top to bottom, particularly the hidden room off the kitchen, to ensure that Drake had not discovered it or disturbed anything. Finding no trace that he had even been there, she showered and changed before collapsing onto her bed.

It was past ten when she woke the next morning. Stretching, she kept her eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight streaming through the window on her face. She had been so tired last night she had forgotten to draw the curtains.

Half an hour later she descended the stairs and switched on the coffee machine. She had bought it a few days after her arrival in Brookfield. Sarah had been over the instant it arrived and the two women had drunk so much coffee they had felt ill. Then Todd had arrived later and they had done it all again. As she was thinking about Sarah she heard a knock at the door.

“Hey! I was just thinking about you,” Quinn smiled, stepping aside and letting her friend in. “Aren’t you working today?”

“It’s Saturday,” Sarah laughed, following her back into the kitchen and fetching two red striped coffee cups.

“Oh yes,” Quinn replied brightly. In truth she had no idea what day of the week it was.

“So, how was your meeting with the editor?” Quinn had fabricated a meeting in the note she had left Sarah and had mentioned she would be gone for a couple of days.

“It went well,” she grinned, handing Sarah a steaming mug, “and hey, thanks for sorting out the window.” When she had got back the previous evening, the first thing she had noticed was that her living-room window had been repaired, just as she had asked in her note.

“No problem. I can’t believe vandals did that! Brookfield is usually such a peaceful town.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t hear it,” Quinn pushed.

“I must sleep like the dead,” Sarah agreed, and Quinn sent silent thanks to Drake for his powerful persuasion.

Chapter 21

Quinn wasn’t sure when she first became aware that she had been followed, but by the third time she saw the dark sedan drive past her house through the living-room window, her Guardian senses were on high alert. Carrying the coffee mugs to the sink she smiled at Sarah.

“I’m sorry to do this, but I have a ton of stuff to do and I need to get to the store or I’ll be having coffee for dinner.”

Sarah got to her feet. “No problem – I’ll see you later?”

“Sure,” Quinn walked her to the door, standing to one side so that anyone watching the house wouldn’t see her. Thankfully she had parked her car in the garage last night.

“Hey Quinn,” Sarah called back as she reached the porch steps and Quinn cringed at the volume of her voice. “There’s always pizza,” Sarah winked.

Quinn shut the door and stood beside the recently repaired living-room window peering through the curtains. It was over fifteen minutes before she spotted the same black sedan cruising down her street. The windows were tinted, but she had a fairly good idea who was inside. Daniel had had her followed. Quinn figured they didn’t know her exact address – if they did, they wouldn’t be driving randomly around town. No doubt they were searching for her car. Quinn weighed up her options. If the Guardians knew where she was she would need to leave Brookfield, the sooner the better.

She was halfway up the stairs when she thought of Drake. If Hunters were in town they would sense him as soon as they got close. That was his problem, she tried to convince herself, but it didn’t work. She had brought them here; it would be her fault if they discovered him. Drake had saved her life and her conscience wouldn’t allow her to abandon him. Vowing that if she managed to warn him her debt would be repaid, Quinn stole out of the back door and headed for Abbey Place.

It didn’t take her long to identify Drake’s house. It fell just short of being ostentatious, which seemed to fit Genevieve’s personality perfectly, but it was the drawn curtains at every window that alerted her. She had passed the sedan only two blocks back, headed in the opposite direction, but it wouldn’t be long before the Hunters reached this street. Quinn wasn’t sure which of the four Hunters were here in town, but she doubted that Daniel would deign to babysit her. That left Liam, Garrett and Blair. She hoped that Blair had stayed behind with Daniel – she was, after all, the second most deadly Hunter they had.

“What are you doing, Quinn?” she muttered to herself as she jumped nimbly over the garden fence. Why in the hell was she going against her own kind to protect a vampire – a mortal enemy of the City she had sworn to protect? What was it about Drake that got under her skin?

She approached the back door with caution, her senses on high alert. She could hear every thud of her frantically beating heart. Without any better ideas she knocked on the back door and waited. Drake and Genevieve could hardly open the door in the middle of the day, but she listened intently, hoping to hear them call to her to come in. After about a minute she knocked again. Still nothing. Testing the doorknob, she was surprised when it opened.

Quinn entered the dark house leaving the door open behind her to let in some much-needed light. The curtains were all heavily-lined, and, even with her better-than-average eyesight, Quinn struggled to see through the murky darkness.

“Hello?” she called softly. They were here; she could sense them so they must be close. A trickle of foreboding washed over her and Quinn realised her mistake a second too late. Genevieve darted from the darkness, faster than a striking cobra and tossed her through the air as easily as a sack of potatoes. Quinn hit the opposite wall hard, but her instinct and adrenalin kicked in. Launching herself to her feet she turned to face the snarling vampire. Genevieve’s fangs were fully extended, her head bowed low as she glared at Quinn through a white blonde curtain of hair. She crouched low, plotting her next attack and Quinn mirrored her actions, raising her arms in front of her.

She was granted only a moment of satisfaction at the look of surprise on Genevieve’s face and then the vampire was upon her again, typically going for the throat. Her fangs sank briefly into Quinn’s neck, but Quinn managed to twist out of her grasp and turn, bringing her fist up into Genevieve’s ribcage. Genevieve coughed as the wind was knocked out of her and Quinn bolted for the still-open back door, trying to ignore the white hot pain of the bite.

She almost made it but Genevieve caught her around the ankles, bringing her crashing heavily to the ground. A small slither of sunlight flickered across the vampire’s left hand and she shrieked as the flesh there immediately began to sizzle. Quinn kicked out with her right leg, her heavy boot connecting with Genevieve’s face. Blood burst from the vampire’s nose and she raised her hand to stem the flow, giving a screech of frustration. Quinn kicked out again, crushing the bones in Genevieve’s right hand. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Quinn pulled the stake from her boot as she scrambled to her feet. Genevieve gazed up at her, her momentary shock dulling her instincts. Quinn raised the stake and did the unthinkable. She hesitated.

Faster than she could comprehend, a dark form collided bodily with her and pinned her against the kitchen wall. Quinn struggled against Drake’s weight, but she could not budge him. He had her stake arm pinned above her head and his cruel, glittering green eyes were terrifying. His mouth was set in an angry snarl, his fangs only inches from her face. Quinn fought the urge to close her eyes and tried to wrest her arm free.

“I came here to help you,” she hissed furiously, “and your girlfriend tried to take a chunk out of my neck!” She could feel the warm wetness of the blood trickling down her neck and she saw Drake’s nostrils flare as the smell assailed his senses.

“Let me at her!” Genevieve appeared at Quinn’s side, her long pale fingers reaching for Quinn’s throat. To Quinn’s surprise, Drake released her, turning abruptly and shoving Genevieve halfway across the room. She landed with a thud on the wooden floor between the living room table and the sofa. The look on her face would have been priceless if Quinn had been in any position to appreciate it.

“How dare you!” Drake thundered and Genevieve seemed to shrink before his rage. “This is my house!”

“She would have killed me!”

“She could have killed you,” he corrected, and Quinn wondered how long he had been watching. Long enough to witness her hesitation, obviously. Drake knew that she had had the opportunity to stake Genevieve and that she hadn’t gone through with it.

Another thought occurred to her then. She still had her stake – and Drake knew it. Yet he had turned his back on her, giving her an opening and making himself an easy target. Quinn wasn’t sure if it was a test, but she was sure that she could not stake this vampire.

“I’ll kill her,” Genevieve threatened, spittle flying from her lips. Genevieve was a vampire she could definitely stake, Quinn thought wryly.

“Get upstairs. Now!” he roared when Genevieve made no move to leave. With one last predatory scowl at Quinn, she flew from the room.

Drake didn’t turn around immediately. He stood completely still, his back to Quinn. She made no move towards him, instead, placing her stake on the kitchen counter. Drake sighed.

“Quinn, could you please close that door?” he asked quietly. Quinn did as he asked and then turned to face him. In the blanketed dark she could just make out his silhouette. She flinched when he moved, but he only crossed the room and switched on a small lamp. After the chaos of her impromptu fight with Genevieve, Quinn had forgotten all about the Hunters but now they sprung back to her mind. She had lost valuable time.

“You’re in danger,” she spoke quickly, the words running into one another, “people are coming; they’re here now, in town.”

“What people?”

“People who want you dead.” Quinn could not give any further explanation.

“How do you know this?”

“I saw them – a few minutes ago. They were headed this way.”

Drake crossed back to the kitchen and fetched her stake, bringing it back and holding it up to the light. He examined the intricate markings, his face giving nothing away.

“Genevieve should have killed you,” he remarked idly, still examining the stake. “How did you manage to fight her off?”

“I... I did martial arts for most of my childhood. I know how to handle myself.”

“Martial arts?” It wasn’t really a question, but she nodded anyway.

“Genevieve is a very old, very powerful vampire. I don’t really think your run-of-the-mill jujitsu would be any match for her.”

“I got lucky,” Quinn insisted, “but that’s not the point. We can discuss this later – for now, you need to get out of here.”

“It's midday,” he pointed out calmly. Drake and Genevieve couldn’t go anywhere while the sun was out. “Why are you doing this?” he added.

“Doing what?”

“Warning us? Trying to save us?”

“Well, I’m only really warning you – protecting Genevieve probably isn’t going to make my to-do list any time soon. I owe you. You saved my life... twice now, actually. I’ll head them off; just lay low. And get out of here as soon as night falls.” She headed for the door, “Oh, and Drake?” He raised his brow. “I plan to do more than just try.”

Quinn sprinted, moving away from Abbey Place and in the direction in which she had last seen the sedan. They would make more than one patrol through each section of town and she only hoped they were still canvassing this area. She pulled the hood of her jacket up, covering the wound on her neck which had already started to heal and stepped out into the middle of the road.

It wasn’t long before the sedan rounded a corner heading straight for her. Quinn faced it calmly and Liam pulled the car over to the kerb. Quinn crossed over to the driver’s window.

“Hello Liam, Blair,” she smiled pleasantly at the two Hunters.

“Quinn,” Liam nodded, looking suitably contrite, but Blair gazed moodily through the front windshield.

“You’re here on Daniel’s orders, I presume?” Quinn continued.

“Yes,” Liam replied haughtily, “we need to find Avery’s crystal.”

“Well I haven’t found it yet – I’ve only been back half a day. Surely you don’t plan to spend the next month following me around?”

“We’ll do what we’re told,” Blair snapped.

“Hunter hierarchy,” Quinn shrugged. “Luckily, we lesser Guardians don’t issue instructions. We work as a team.”

“Oh yes, you’re a fantastic team-player,” Blair snorted with derision.

“Here’s the thing,” Quinn refused to rise, “if you're going to be looking over my shoulder, I'm going to leave this town and continue my search elsewhere. And you won’t find me again,” she warned. Liam and Blair couldn’t argue – Quinn was an exceptional Guardian. Now that she was aware they were tailing her she wouldn’t make the same mistake again and she could easily elude them.

“Tell Daniel that, while I appreciate his concern, I prefer to do this on my own. He knows where I am. I have one month. Until then I do not want to see any Guardians near Brookfield. In fact,” she smirked, another thought occurring to her, “I’ll tell him myself – save you the trouble. Kellan has asked me to assist him with something which requires me to return to Summerfeld. We can convoy.”

Quinn had had no intention of assisting Kellan with Rafe and Channon’s transformation, but returning to Cliffdale was the only way to ensure that Liam and Blair did too. Once there, she had a plan to get Daniel off her back for a while. The full moon was three nights away and the journey would take two days, comfortably. Telling Liam and Blair she would meet them on the outskirts of town, Quinn made her way home.

She had a lightning shower and dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a white V-necked T-shirt emblazoned with the words Never say never across the front, which seemed fitting since, only a couple of days ago, she had vowed she wouldn’t return to Summerfeld. Tossing her bag onto the passenger seat of her car she crossed the lawn into Sarah’s beautiful garden.

“Hi!” Sarah opened the door almost immediately after her gentle knock.

“You won’t believe this but the editor wants me to meet with one of his illustrators for collaboration on a new project.”

“But you just got back!” Sarah exclaimed.

“I know, it’s a pain, but it’s a good opportunity!” Quinn rambled. “Anyway, I’ll probably be gone a couple of days. Would you mind keeping an eye on the house?”

“Yeah, sure,” she nodded emphatically, her ponytail bouncing behind her. “But promise me – movie night when you get back?”

“I can’t wait,” Quinn assured her.

On the second day of their journey back Blair picked up the presence of a vampire nearby. Quinn waited at her car as the two Hunters tracked their prey, figuring they wouldn’t be needing her help. She had her stake at the ready, just in case, but she wasn’t paying much attention and she only sensed the vampire an instant before he grabbed her from behind. Quinn ducked, so that he grabbed nothing but air. Swivelling around, she brought the stake up and through his rib cage – piercing his heart. It happened in a matter of seconds, and, as Quinn withdrew her stake, the body began to turn grey. By the time the Hunters returned there was nothing but a pile of ash at her feet.

“Nice job,” Blair drawled, sporting a spectacular shiner on her right eye. Liam’s hair was standing up in all directions.

“This one managed to slip away from us.” He sounded ashamed.

“I figured,” Quinn grinned, and even Blair cracked a smile. For the first time in a long time, Quinn felt the familiar kinship with the Guardians – the sense of purpose and satisfaction that came with knowing they had rid the world of one more vampire.

Chapter 22

“We had better head back,” Tristan called “Isaiah will be waiting for you.” His niece pouted. Isaiah had begun Monique’s training the very day she arrived, and, while she enjoyed it, she would far rather spend her time exploring the wonders of the City than in the training room. Monique had spent most of the past few days exploring Summerfeld, but her desire to experience everything there was on offer seemed insatiable. Isaiah had never seen a Guardian more enamoured with the supernatural creatures, not even the petulant Blair, who displayed an uncharacteristic tenderness with the wards that belied her sullen disposition.

Monique had ridden unicorns, watched the giants - from a safe distance, although she had sulked when she realised that she couldn’t see the dwarves from so far away - and explored Lunar Grove, which was devoid of wolves without the full moon. She had even caught a brief glimpse of a firebird, a very rare sighting, as they were the most timid of all Summerfeld’s creatures. The firebirds shared the Silver Oaks forest with the unicorns. The size of a peacock, they were named for their majestic plumage, which glowed, emitting a red and orange light so bright it looked like flames trailing behind them when they flew.

Monique had pleaded with Isaiah to meet the merfolk and he had grudgingly allowed it. They had travelled to the far side of the lake so as not to come into contact with the dragons. The merfolk had not been particularly friendly but this hadn’t deterred Monique in the least. When her endless questioning had started to annoy the two young mermaids who had answered his summons, Isaiah had gently led Monique away, distracting her with the sight of a Rainia dragon returning to her nest, the deep blue-grey hue of her scales blending into the canvas of the sky.

“How many species of dragon are there?” Monique asked when the beast had settled behind a crag of rock, out of sight.

“Six. That Rainia you just saw is one of only three adults remaining, but she has a cluster of eggs that will increase their numbers. The Chumana line is down to the eggs in Kellan’s shed. The Saurean, Kazaan and Xenica breeds still have a few breeding pairs, so their futures are secure, for now.”

“That’s five,” Monique had been ticking them off on her fingers as he spoke.

“I wasn’t finished,” Isaiah chuckled. “The sixth dragon breed is the most dangerous. The Orochians are highly aggressive, and territorial. They are the only breed of dragon we don’t worry about.”

Monique was determined to return to Lunar Grove to see the werewolves in their wolf form when the full moon rose, but her mother had flatly refused and she had to be satisfied with spending an hour at Rafe’s mother, Vivienne’s, home during the course of the day. In human form, the wolves were very good company and Monique had been beaming when they had finally managed to drag her away.

Tristan had taken her to Lion’s River – a section of Summerfeld characterised by long grass and a river running through it – to see the gryphons. Monique watched, mesmerised, as the magnificent beasts used their beaks to pull fish from the river, beating their wings as they backed up the riverbank. While they had the head and wings of an eagle, the gryphon’s powerful bodies, tail and back legs resembled those of a lion. They were not dangerous, feeding solely on fish, and Monique was able to get close enough to touch a feeding female.

“Mom!” she yelled, “come and touch it!” Camille, who had accompanied Monique’s various excursions, shook her head, her hand over her heart, trying to calm her nerves.

The beauty of the City, while captivating the young Guardian, seemed to both enchant and terrify Camille. She was taking it remarkably well, considering that she had just learned that creatures of myth existed. Isaiah knew that it was easier for Camille because she was a descendent of the original twelve. Her blood, like the Guardians, was imbued with the blood of the wards, even though she had not been branded.

“They really do exist,” Camille exclaimed, over and over again like a mantra, as though trying to convince herself.

“They do,” Isaiah murmured gently. “They are our greatest treasures.”

“How can a child be entrusted to protect them?”

“She has been branded,” he replied simply. “She is destined to do so. King Eldon himself has deemed her worthy, who are we to question it?”

“He was the King of the Fae?”

“Yes. A wise and formidable ruler. Eldon’s magic is the most powerful force on earth.”

“And yet he called on humans to protect him?”

“No,” Isaiah shook his head. “Not to protect him. To protect his people.”

“If he was so powerful, why did he need to create the Guardians? Why couldn’t he just use his magic to eradicate the vampires?”

“It is not so simple. Eldon believed that with his death, Aleksei’s thirst for vengeance would be satiated – that he would cease his attack on the innocents and the war would end. That’s why he didn’t use his magic to save himself. He sacrificed himself for the rest of them.”

“It doesn’t seem to have worked out quite as he planned,” Camille remarked wryly.

“No,” Isaiah agreed. “Eldon underestimated Aleksei’s hatred. It doesn’t change the fact, though, that Eldon’s final act was one of selflessness.”

“You speak of him as a king who should be revered, but all I see is a man who forced my fifteen year old daughter into a life of servitude.”

“You don’t understand the honour of the Guardianship, Camille.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I don’t. Eldon was your king, not mine. I don’t have the same faith in him that you do.”

“Have faith in me, then,” Isaiah’s amber eyes held hers, and Camille saw the true power within shimmering just below the surface. “I will protect Monique.”

“Mom!” Monique’s voice broke the mounting tension of the moment. “I said come and touch them!”

Isaiah had even taken Monique over Highgate Bridge, the home of Zol – Summerfeld’s only troll. Monique had laughed uproariously when she heard and had proceeded to intone “Zol the troll” at the top of her lungs. Zol was hideous – over a thousand years old and he grew more cantankerous with each passing year. He would not harm the Guardians, but he preferred his isolation and they generally let him be. Zol had no mate to breed with so the line would end with him. Trolls were very strong, but unfortunately very slow and dim-witted, making them easy prey for the vampires who slaughtered them only too easily. Zol had survived his parents' vampiric slaughter and had been found as a young troll by King Eldon, in the final days before Summerfeld was sealed. King Eldon had personally escorted Zol into the City and created Highgate Bridge – an exact replica of the bridge under which he had found him.

Despite her mother’s trepidation, Monique would not be dissuaded and she trotted happily along the bridge with Isaiah, leaning over the rotting wooden railing trying to catch a glimpse of Zol. She waved happily as the gnarled, wart-encrusted troll peered up at her with bloodshot eyes. He stood about five feet high and was almost as broad as he was tall. The whites of his eyes were yellowed, and, despite his grotesque appearance, there was something pitiful about him. Camille, standing on the bank beside Tristan, gave a whimper, her hand flying to her mouth.

“He won’t hurt her,” Tristan smiled. Camille looked horrified.

“Is that moss?” Monique asked, excitedly and Isaiah nodded. There was moss growing across Zol’s shoulders and down the broad, bare expanse of his back. “Cool!” she waved again and Zol shuffled back under the bridge and out of sight.

Her curiosity would not be sated as she was guided around Summerfeld. The only creatures she had not encountered or had been allowed close to, were the dragons. Isaiah finally put his foot down. He had catered to her every whim, delighted by the natural kinship she displayed with every creature that she was now bound to protect, but he would not allow her near the dragons – they were far too dangerous.

“Come on!” Tristan called again, ignoring Monique’s pout as she stroked Etana’s mane. Isaiah hadn’t come out with them today. Piper had manned the Cathedral during his absence the previous morning when he had taken Monique to see Zol, but she had her own work to do and Isaiah didn’t like to burden anyone for too long. With one last tug on the mare’s ears, Monique obediently followed Tristan back to the fountain. “Are you coming, mom?” she held out her hand, but Camille quickly stepped back, waving her hands in front of her.

“I think I’ll stay,” she mumbled. The nausea of passing through the Gateway was not something she would ever get used to.

“How are you doing today, Monique?” Isaiah asked when the girl appeared magically before him at the altar.

“Good,” she gushed, “Tristan took me for a ride through the Silver Oaks forest. Kellan thinks that one of the mares may be with foal.”

“Wonderful,” Isaiah smiled. “Now, are you ready to begin?”

“Aren’t we going through to the training room?”

“No,” he pulled the Sacred Book from behind his back and an astonished gasp escaped her. The gold cover gleamed, belying the time-stained pages within and was embossed with the outline of each of the supernatural species.

“May I?” Monique asked and Isaiah handed the book to her. It was heavier than she had expected, and she traced the outline of the images embossed into the precious metal – each of the supernatural species – a symbol of what they were fighting for. Monique’s finger rested on the Pegasus, their wings differentiating them from the unicorns on the opposite side of the cover.

“Are they really gone?” she murmured, her heart weighing heavily in her chest.

“We will never stop searching for survivors,” Isaiah replied, “but sadly our hope has thus far been unfounded. The Pegasus has not been seen in a thousand years. The same goes for the Phoenix,” he pointed to the bird etched at the bottom right.

Monique opened the book to a random page, the ink clearly visible on the ancient yellowed paper. The tome would stand the test of time, the words never fading, written as they were in enchanted ink.

“What is the Hawkstone?” she asked, the word jumping out at her.

“I guess that’s lesson number one,” Isaiah smiled.

“So, we’re not training today?”

“No. Today we’re studying.”

Chapter 23

“We’ve been searching for days,” Melchior’s voice sounded weary. “Perhaps it’s time to move on.”

“Not yet,” Balthazar shook his head, his black hair forming a dark halo around his head and shoulders. “It’s around here somewhere, I’m certain of it.” Balthazar had a strong feeling that their search for the City was nearing an end. He had searched all of his life, as had his parents before him, and their parents before that; centuries of following a myth. And yet, Balthazar believed that he would succeed where his ancestors had failed – that he would lead their people to the promised land to claim Summerfeld as their home. And he would finally prove to Jonas that their nomadic lifestyle had not been in vain, that the City did exist. Anything to shake his son from the dark mood he had fallen into. Jonas would start school in just a few days and Balthazar knew, all too well, how cruel children could be. It pained him that his son would no doubt endure hours of ridicule and shame, and he could not, for the life of him, figure out why Jonas would put himself through it.

“The City is concealed from the human eye,” Melchior reminded, snapping Balthazar from his reverie. “How do you suppose we are to find it if it’s invisible? We could be standing right beside it and still not see it?”

“We cannot see the City, but there are those who can. A Guardian will lead us in.”

“How do we find a Guardian?”
“We wait,” Balthazar replied enigmatically. He couldn’t say why or how, but he knew that they were close. The cornflower had been a sign, of that he was certain. Now there was nothing to do but wait. He watched Melchior make his way back to his tent, disappearing inside it and heaved a sigh. It appeared that Jonas was not the only gypsy losing faith.
“Balthazar!” Rowena’s voice called as she raced towards him, her skintight brown leather pants leaving little to the imagination, and Balthazar felt the familiar heat in his loins at the very sight of her. Breathlessly she skidded to a halt before him, her cheeks flushed, her dark curls damp with sweat.

“What is it?” he asked. She had just returned from fetching gas for the cooker and he could not imagine what might have happened that had her so wound up.

“The gas station,” she gasped, her chest heaving, “I saw... there were three of them. One man, two women.” Balthazar didn’t need to hear anymore. Checking to make sure they hadn’t been overheard, he grabbed her arm and together they hurtled back towards his truck. Guardians. They had finally found Guardians.

Oblivious to the two gypsies who watched them through the trees, Quinn, Blair and Liam pulled out of the gas station and headed west. The red Chevy followed the two cars – a black sedan and a smaller, grey hatchback - a few miles, as they ventured further and further into No-Man’s land.

“Keep a safe distance,” Rowena cautioned for what felt like the tenth time, “we can’t afford for them to see us.” Balthazar peered at the tiny specks in the distance that were the Guardians’ cars.

“We can’t afford to lose them, either,” he said, but eased his foot slightly off the gas. His excitement was overwhelming and he kept accelerating without realising it.

As the miles passed the landscape slowly transformed. At first there were only a few shrubs, and then the occasional tree, but with every minute the vegetation thickened, until they were passing heavy woodlands.

“Look!” Rowena breathed, drawing Balthazar’s attention to the clumps of cornflowers growing in and amongst the tall boughs. Sycamore leaves fluttered down around their car, drifting inncocently onto the windshield before being plucked away by the breeze. Balthazar couldn’t speak - he was too afraid that his life’s ambition, finally within his grasp, would be wrenched away if he got his hopes up. Gritting his teeth, he squinted ahead, his eyes straining as he tried to keep the vehicles in his sights.

“I think you can get closer now,” Rowena spoke softly, and Balthazar turned to find her smiling at him encouragingly. “The trees will give us cover,” she added, placing her hand on his shoulder. The foliage had certainly thickened enough that they would not be spotted instantly by their quarry, and Balthazar was grateful for the years of financial hardship and the fact that he had never been able to afford to repaint the Chevy. The red was dull and faded, making it harder to spot against the muted tones of nature’s panaroma. Pressing the gas pedal, he winced as the old engine groaned in protest. The down-side of the truck’s ill-maintenance was that it might break down at any moment. Balthazar prayed that it didn’t do so any time soon.

“What is that?’ Rowena peered through the dusty windscreen, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from her face. Ahead, the trailing sedan banked suddenly left, at a point where the tree line ended abruptly. Frantic without the vehicle in his sights, Balthazar sped up, screeching to a halt just before the shelter of the trees gave way completely. Rushing from the truck, he sprinted forward, bursting from the woods onto a dry, cracked plateau, stretching as far as the eye could see. He looked to his left, searching for the sedan, and his heart plummeted.

There was no vehicle in sight – both the black sedan and the grey hatchback were gone and before him, a canyon, as wide as three double-decker buses split the arid earth. His eyes travelled east and west but there was no bridge, no point at which the opposite ends met, and absolutely no place to cross.

“Oh my God,” Rowena had finally caught up to him. Unlike Balthazar, who had gone completely still, she whipped her head left and right, eventually turning a full circle on the spot.

“Where did they go?”

Balthazar didn’t answer. He had not come this far to have the life’s work of generations of Blackmans wrested from his grasp. And he had a pretty good idea where the Sedan had disappeared to. There was nowhere else it could have gone.

Slowly, deliberately, he walked forward, placing one foot in front of the other until he stood at the very edge of the precipice. It was so deep and dark that he couldn’t see the bottom.

“What are you doing?” Rowena’s voice quavered. “Balthazar, what are you doing?”

“I’m taking a leap of faith,” he murmured, his own legs shaking as he willed them to do the unthinkable. He closed his eyes. Too late Rowena understood what he intended to do and she reached for him, but he had already taken a step over the edge of the cliff.

A heady floral scent assailed Balthazar’s senses and he could hear the faint sounds of birds singing – so many songs sung all at once. His eyes were still closed, but he could sense the coolness in the air, so different to the baking heat of the desert he had stood in only a second ago. Opening his eyes, he found himself standing on the crest of a hill and below him, nestled in a valley more beautiful than anything he had ever seen, stood a magnificent Cathedral. It seemed to sparkle, a riotous rainbow of colour, reflected by the light of the sun. In the distance, weaving along the pebbled road he was standing on, he saw the sedan, and only a few hundred yards ahead of it, the smaller grey hatchback. Enchanted by the towering stone structure, it took a few moments before he was able to tear his gaze away, to take in the woods surrounding three sides of it and the fields of flowers that spread before it. It was the single most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Balthazar had a sudden longing for someone to share this moment, and in that instant he remembered Rowena. Twisting violently around he saw her, slumped to the ground, her body wracked with sobs. She was so close that if he reached out he could touch her, but it was obvious that she couldn’t see him. This is the safeguard, Balthazar thought wondrously. Mankind would never find the City because it required an act of suicide to do so.

“Rowena,” he spoke her name out loud, but she did not lift her head. Stepping forward, he felt only the faintest tremor run over him, as if his whole body had been affected by pins and needles for just an instant, and then he was back in the cloying heat, the sound of Rowena’s sobs clearly audible.

She jumped as he placed his hand on her shoulder, but the instant that she recognised him, she grabbed hold of him with both hands and clung to him as though he might be wrested away from her at any moment. Balthazar was infinitely touched by the depth of her despair – Rowena seldom allowed her emotions to show.

“You found it,” she gulped, when her sobbing was under control.

“I did,” he murmured, stroking her hair. The revelation that he had finally found the City was almost too much to process. “Come,” he took her hand and helped her to her feet.

Rowena gathered herself together, took a deep breath and walked to the edge of the precipice with Balthazar by her side. Smiling reassuringly at her, Balthazar gave her hand one last squeeze before they stepped together, into oblivion.

Chapter 24

Unaware of the outsiders who stood watching from the crest of the hill, Quinn pushed open the Cathedral doors.

The Cathedral was empty, and Quinn was relieved that she didn’t have to deal with Daniel or her father, let alone Tristan. She entered the City through the cathedral gateway and walked silently up the cobbled street. She was apprehensive about whether or not Drake had heeded her warning and left town, and even more so she was worried about Genevieve’s reaction to her near-staking. Genevieve did not strike her as the type who would let something like that go – in fact, Quinn was fairly sure she would seek vengeance the first chance she got.

Drake was an altogether different matter. Quinn could not consolidate her gratitude towards him with her lifetime of hatred for the vampire race. Drake had saved her life – twice. The irony of a vampire saving a Guardian was not lost on her. Her mixed feelings were an annoying distraction and Quinn did not want to get involved in vampire problems. With any luck, by the time she returned to Brookfield, Drake and Genevieve would be gone. She had to focus on finding Avery’s crystal. Over and over again she replayed Avery’s words in her head: You will find it in the heart of my own. Quinn was still certain it had something to do with Tristan. She would help Rafe and Channon with their full moon transformation and go straight back to resume the search.

“Back so soon, Quinn?” Isaiah’s voice penetrated her musings and Quinn looked up to see the Guardian standing right in front of her, the fountain gurgling innocently behind him. Tristan and his sister were there too, and between them, Monique, a dazzling grin on her petite, pretty face. The sun had given her cheeks a rosy warmth.

“I came back with Liam and Blair,” Quinn said pointedly, glaring at Tristan.

“Daniel only wants what is best for you.” Isaiah's response was predictably prudent, but Tristan’s response surprised Quinn.

“What? What do you mean? Did Daniel have Quinn followed?” he turned on Isaiah in disbelief and anger. “Quinn is one of us!” he continued, when Isaiah’s silence confirmed the worst. “Since when do we keep tabs on one another?”

“Calm down, Tristan.” Isaiah glanced pointedly at Monique, who was rubber-necking between them. Camille, on the other hand, looked excited for the first time since she had arrived. Dragons and trolls she had a problem with, but apparently family drama was something she could understand.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Isaiah. After everything we sacrifice, all the risks we take to keep the Gateway safe – how dare you treat any of us like common criminals? Surely we have earned your trust?”

Quinn’s eyes were as wide as Monique’s. Never would she have expected Tristan to defend her actions or come to her defence. She wholeheartedly agreed with everything he was saying, but she had always followed a slightly different path. Even as a dedicated Guardian, she had questioned their beliefs, the old ways. It was comforting to know that she wasn’t alone. And Tristan’s indignation on her behalf cheered her immensely.

“Of course you have earned the Guardians' trust,” Isaiah insisted. “I did not say that I agreed with Daniel’s course of action, only that I understood it.”

Much to Quinn’s chagrin, they followed her to Kellan and Freya’s, Monique still firing questions at Isaiah about everything, from the City itself to the latest section she had read of the Sacred Book. Isaiah answered her with the same infinite patience he had displayed when Quinn had joined the Guardianship, although her questions had only ever been about the book. Even now, Quinn racked her brain, trying to recall anything that might break the Guardian spell.

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.

She saw Isaiah first. He came tearing through the mist above them, his white face a mask of shock. Tristan noticed him a second later and an anguished cry burst from his lips. Then Quinn heard the high-pitched screaming and her legs almost caved in beneath her.

“Tristan, no!” she yelled, reaching for him as he took off towards the sound, heading straight for Isaiah who was approaching from the opposite direction. Quinn watched him go, dazed for a second as something pricked at her conscience. As Isaiah got closer, she realised that his face, although shocked, was also expressing a different emotion... Wonder. The penny dropped in the same instant that Tristan spun on his heels, his face morphing from pure panic to shocked comprehension. Monique wasn’t screaming. She was laughing.

The dragon that swooped from the mist above their heads was the colour of burnt umber, with a pale plum underbelly. Quinn recognised the enormous massive beast as a Saurean – one of the least hostile species that dwelled on Dragon's Peak.

The logical part of her brain registered these facts as she watched the dragon soar above her, completing a full circle before flapping her enormous wings and heading back towards the mountain. The other part of her brain, which urged her to believe what she was seeing despite it being impossible, registered that Monique was riding on the Saurean’s back.

Chapter 26

As the first rays of the sun filtered softly through the glass window, Kellan heaved a sigh that the worst was over. He could hear Freya moving around in the bedroom, but she would not emerge until he called her, letting her know that it was safe. Quinn had not returned, and he hoped that Monique had been found, unharmed. He knew that Quinn would not have left him to deal with the wolves on his own if it weren’t important. It had been a long night and his body ached from sitting for so long, but he would rest soon.

“How do you feel,” Kellan asked gently, throwing a blanket over Rafe’s body as he lay shivering and sweating on the floor.

“I’m fine,” Rafe replied through clenched teeth. Nearby, Channon, who was also back in human form, whimpered pitifully. Rafe rolled onto his side, checking that she was all right, before he slumped onto his back again, pressing his hands over his eyes. Kellan left them while he made a pot of tea which would warm them from the inside and hopefully stop the shivering. The transformation wreaked havoc on their bodies for a few hours after resuming human form.

“Thank you,” Rafe croaked, lifting himself into a sitting position as Kellan handed him a steaming mug. Kellan passed a mug to Channon who seemed to be recovering faster than her mate.

“What are we going to do?” Channon sounded so defeatist and Kellan understood the predicament. Werewolves were not meant to be shut inside like domestic dogs. They needed to hunt during the full moon; they needed to run and to mate. It was their most primal instinct, and to deny it could have dire consequences. And yet, Caleb would kill Rafe if he ventured outside in wolf form.

“We have a month to think about it...” Kellan trailed off. As if the very thought had summoned him, the door burst open and the new Alpha stood before them, glaring down at Rafe with ill-concealed disdain. As his gaze moved to Channon, Kellan saw again the desire to dominate her reflected in his gold-flecked eyes.

“Now is not the time, Caleb,” Kellan said, but the angry young man ignored him, shouldering his way into the room. Kellan only noticed Cassandra when she barged in behind him.

Cassandra was an exotic-looking woman, with sallow olive skin and heavy-set, dark eyes. Her hair was cut in a short bob, with bangs hiding a long forehead. She looked both angry and satisfied, and the way she mirrored Caleb’s movements, and stayed as close to him as possible, hinted that perhaps she had finally gotten her way last night and mated with the new Alpha. She did not look happy that Caleb had come here, to the place where Channon was.

“I have come to issue a warning,” Caleb threatened Rafe, “you are no longer permitted in town.”

“You do not have the authority to ban him from the street,” Kellan protested, “you are not in wolf form now. This is a civilised community!” A half-snarl emanated from Caleb’s open mouth and Kellan stepped back as though he had been struck. No werewolf had ever challenged the Fae, not since the beginning of time. Kellan eyed his bow, resting in the corner of the room, but pushed the thought aside immediately. He could not harm one of the wards, regardless of his behaviour.

“Channon,” Caleb continued, heedless of Kellan’s words, “are you ready to join me?” Cassandra let out an inhuman sound, part-growl, part-whimper and her dark eyes narrowed at Channon.

“What does she matter to you?” she hissed.

“She is my rightful mate,” Caleb replied coldly and Cassandra’s eyes widened in shock. “You help pass the time, my young pup, but you are no match for an Alpha.”

“Enough!” Kellan roared, stepping forward to comfort the young wolf. Cassandra pushed him away ungratefully. “You are new to Summerfeld,” Kellan continued, “and you have much to learn. The werewolves and the Fae have always been brethren – we are, after all, the only humanoid species that reside within the City. You won your pack’s loyalty when you defeated Rafe; there is no need for this feud to continue.”

“Channon?” Caleb barked. Kellan may as well have been speaking to himself for all the notice the Alpha took.

“Never,” Channon hissed, moving closer to Rafe.

“So be it,” Caleb smirked evilly. “You are both banished – do not let me catch either of you outside.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out. Cassandra threw Channon one last dark look, and then she followed him, slamming the door behind her.

“I’m going to take this to the council,” Kellan stepped towards the door, but Rafe moved to stand against it.

“This is not Guardian business,” he murmured.

“Threatening the lives of any of the Summerfeld wards is exactly Guardian business!”

“No,” Rafe shook his head, his gaze falling on Channon, who backed away, looking suddenly afraid. “This is my problem. And it ends now.”

“What do you presume to do, Rafe?’ Freya’s gentle voice carried over to them. Intuitively she approached Channon and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, eying Rafe meditatively. Kellan knew that look. Freya, while as peaceful as most Fae woman, also had a fiercely protective nature, and right now, she sensed Channon’s fear. She held herself upright, taller than Rafe, her rounded belly accentuated by the long dress she wore. Rafe dropped his eyes first.

“Did you hear all of it?” Kellan asked.

“Most,” Freya nodded. “It seems that we have a problem on our hands.”

“A problem?” Rafe gasped. “A problem? That’s what you call this? I think it’s slightly more than a problem. There’s only one solution... Channon, you must return to the pack.”

“I can’t!” Channon cried, her face crumpling. “I can’t be with that... that... monster! How can you ask that of me?”

“What makes you think I want that?” Rafe replied, his voice breaking. “Do you think I want to see my best friend... my wife, with that bastard? Of course I don’t! But we don’t have a choice. I won’t let you risk your life. Unhappy is better than dead!”

“And what will you do?” Freya interrupted.

“I’ll challenge him. He’s going to kill me anyway, I may as well go down fighting.”

Channon succumbed to her tears and slid to the floor in an inconsolable heap.

“You will lose,” Freya pointed out gently. She sensed that his cruelty toward his mate stemmed more from a deep need to keep her safe than any true anger at her actions.

“I know.” The reply was hollow. Raising his eyes back to meet Freya’s, he saw the kindness and the compassion reflected in them. “But there’s nothing else I can do.” His anguish was nothing in comparison to the shame. He had failed Channon – the person he loved most in this world. He had lost and condemned her to death, or a lifetime of servitude to a cruel, powerful wolf. He didn’t know if he could live with the failure.

“You are being a coward,” Freya murmured, as though she could read his thoughts. “Death is an easy alternative.” Lifting Channon by the arm, she placed both hands over her cheeks, “So are you,” she added, “I need to speak to you, in private.”

“I can’t do it,” Channon shook her head when Freya had finished outlining her plan. The two women sat in the small, modest bedroom, with the door closed so that the men wouldn’t overhear them.

“Channon, I know you don’t want to, but your actions are the reason that Rafe is in so much trouble. It is your law – a law that Rafe himself upheld as Alpha. You believed in it, then. By not returning to the pack, you are angering Caleb. I believe we are seeing the very worst of him because you are humiliating him in front of a pack he controls. He cannot allow it.”

“I don’t think we’ve seen the worst of him, yet,” Channon whispered, “or even half of what he is capable of. I’m afraid of him, Freya.”

“I understand. But he is a wolf, Channon, there is nothing to be afraid of. I have known wolves my whole life. Alphas are strong and relentless, yes, but they are also incredibly protective of their pack. You know that.” Channon nodded, but her eyes told a different story. “If you return, you will be safe; sheltered within the pack,” Freya continued. “You have a month before the next full moon to assess whether you feel your life is in danger. If you are still fearful by then, come and tell me. I will make sure you are kept here, safe from harm.”

“I don’t want you involved in this. Not in your condition...”

Freya laughed.

“I’m stronger than you think, young wolf.”

“I know. I’ve seen you with your bow.”  Channon gave a watery smile. “What about Rafe? Even if I go back to the pack Caleb isn’t just going to let him go.”

“No,” Freya acknowledged, “but it will cool his heels for a time. We need breathing room to come up with a long-term solution. And I have a plan to keep Rafe out of harm’s way while accomplishing something far more important in the process.”

Channon followed her from the room and Freya gestured Rafe forward. She placed Channon’s small hand in his. “Stay here, comfort her. Your time together is precious.”

“Where are you going?” Kellan asked as his wife headed for the door.

“I have an idea,” Freya replied, consoling him with a small smile.

She returned after a short time.

“Monique is fine,” she announced as she stepped through the door. Kellan heaved a sigh of relief and even the wolves felt their hearts lift. “She’s a dragon rider,” Freya continued, and their eyes widened in surprise. “Although, if her mother has anything to do with it, she won’t be doing it again any time soon. Now,” she continued briskly, facing the wolves, “as to your predicament, I believe I have come up with a solution.”

Chapter 27

“How is it possible?” Tristan was still struggling to reconcile what he had seen last night with what he knew to be true. He, Quinn and Isaiah were standing in the cornflower field, having bid farewell to the unicorns that had brought them back. A few yards away Camille’s furious voice was taking an elated Monique to task.

“A dragon rider?’ Quinn interrupted, also looking to Isaiah for answers. She had heard of it before, decades ago, but she had never seen anything like it. Tristan, who had been a Guardian less than a tenth of the time she had, had not heard of it at all.

“Yes,” Isaiah watched Monique reverently. “She must be a descendant of Alain – he was the first dragon rider.” Alain, like Isaiah and Daniel, had been one of the original twelve Guardians.

“But... if she’s a descendant of Alain, then so is...” Quinn gaped at Tristan.

“Tristan,” Isaiah nodded, “yes, he must be.” Although the descendants of all Guardian families were kept track of, nobody remembered who was descended from whom. It was only important that the families of any living Guardians were traceable.

“Can you...?” Quinn raised her brow incredulously at Tristan.

“No,” he shook his head, “I’m pretty sure I can’t ride them. Not that I’ve ever been close enough to try – I generally run in the opposite direction when they start hurling fire at me.” Now that Monique was safe all the tension had left him. Quinn smiled, marvelling at his resilience and how quickly he had recovered. Tristan smiled back, and a moment passed between them that Quinn was not sure she entirely understood. Something flashed in his eyes, an emotion she had not seen in a very long time and certainly not directed at her – not since Avery had unwittingly come between them.

“A dragon will not breathe its fire at a rider,” Isaiah pointed out, which answered Quinn’s question. Tristan was no dragon rider.

“She’s letting her get into her stride,” Tristan mused, as the sound of Camille’s voice grew louder and more agitated. “You’ve got to agree and apologise quickly or she gains momentum. I better go and save her,” he added, loping off in the direction of his niece and irate sister.

“The girl has the most natural affinity for our precious creatures of any Guardian I have ever seen,” Isaiah mused thoughtfully.

“What does it mean?” Quinn asked, sensing there was more to his words.

“Possibly that my time as a Guardian is coming to an end.” His answer was so candid that Quinn flinched.

“What?”

He turned to face her, his face perfectly tranquil.

“Amongst the Guardians there have always been those with a certain natural affinity – they find their place immediately – their niche, you could call it. Daniel and his Hunters were born to pursue the enemies of the wards, although Blair is more nurturing than most. Other Guardians serve only to protect. I have always been closest to the inhabitants of Summerfeld and they have trusted me above all others. Now it seems that Monique has surpassed me in that respect.” Quinn did not answer. The thought of the guardianship without Isaiah was too awful to bear thinking about.

“What am I, then?” she murmured, wondering about her own place within the Guardian council. Her guilt at leaving was, in this moment, stronger than ever before.

“You will find your niche, Quinn. You question and you challenge – more so than anyone ever has. You have lost your way and you have a great journey ahead of you, but I am confident that you will find your way back. I think you will bring about a great change.”

“What kind of change?”

“I have no idea,” he smiled, “but I sincerely hope that I am around to witness it.”

Slowly, they were eating away at her resolve, without even being aware of it. Quinn could feel her resistance crumbling, the lure of her Guardian life calling, almost too powerful to resist.

“I must go,” she announced, as they made their way toward the fountain. Nobody said a word, but a dark glance passed between Isaiah and Tristan. Isaiah nodded his head discreetly and Tristan followed her through the Gateway and into the Cathedral.

“Quinn, please stay.” Tristan finally spoke, as they reached her car. The sunlight danced off the golden streaks in his hair. His blue eyes held her own, pleading with her to reconsider.

“I have to find Avery’s crystal,” she insisted. “I need to make sure that Jack and Ava are safe.”

“They would have been safe with Kellan and Freya.” She could hear the underlying message in his voice. Tristan wanted her to forgive him for his and Avery’s decision to allow the Faery couple to adopt their children. In truth, Quinn had grudgingly accepted that being raised by Kellan and Freya would not have been the worst thing that could have happened to Jack and Ava. They would have been loved and well-cared for, and she could have visited them often. In the absence of that option, though, Quinn had to revert to her previous plan. She would find Avery’s crystal and barter for their safe return, and the time that she needed to raise them in the realm of man.

“You think I don’t care for them, don’t you?” It was not really a question, and he continued quickly, “Quinn, I don’t for one second think that the Guardians would let any harm come to Jack and Ava. If I did, do you honestly think I wouldn’t have sought them out myself?”

“It’s not just about keeping them safe,” she countered, “it's about them being loved and being with family – with people who would die to protect them.”

“The Guardians would die to protect them.”

“Perhaps. But they would not love them as a mother would.”

“Would you?” he asked cryptically, “would you love Avery’s and my children as if they were your own? After everything that happened?” Never before had they spoken about what had transpired between them before Tristan met Avery. It was as though it had never happened. Quinn’s eyes widened in surprise at his boldness in bringing it up now. Lifting her chin she met his gaze defiantly, daring him to contradict her.

“I do love them like my own, Tristan. What the hell do you think I’m doing all of this for?”

“For Avery?” he murmured, stepping closer to her. Quinn nodded, unable to speak. “For me?” he crooned; his voice low and heavy with meaning. She wanted to lash out at him, to deny that she would ever do anything for him after all he had put her through, but she couldn’t find the words. Blinking, she nodded again.

Tristan seemed to grow in stature as he inhaled deeply, comprehension dawning on his astonished face. He lifted his hand towards her cheek and Quinn almost closed her eyes in anticipation of his touch. Almost. Her tanzanite eyes flew open a second before he reached her, and she stepped away from him.

“I’ll see you around, Tristan,” she yanked open the car door and got inside, starting the engine and pulling away before he could utter a single word.

Tristan stood dumbfounded, in the exact same spot, watching the car until it disappeared over the crest of the hill. For just a second Quinn had shown him something; a vulnerability he would never have believed of her if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. He lifted his hand and stared at it, fascinated. He had almost touched her – he had wanted to touch her. Tristan had loved Quinn; he had thought he would never feel that way again until he had met Avery. Avery had captivated and enchanted him from the moment they met; it was as if all his feelings for Quinn had been redirected and amplified a thousand fold.

In the euphoria of his newfound bliss he had initially not grasped the gravity of his betrayal and the extent of the pain that he had caused her, but, as the years had gone by, the hollow look in Quinn’s eyes had begun to haunt him. She was so brave and so fearless, and she had stepped aside at great personal cost so that he and Avery could be happy. Tristan had tried to treat her with kindness, but every act had seemed to hurt her even more and her beautiful bruised eyes caused him pain. And then... Avery had died. And the sorrow in Quinn’s eyes had been replaced by a black hatred, so intense that he could barely stand it. In the end, he had simply stopped talking to her, stopped looking at her. She had disappeared shortly after and he had turned his focus to his Guardian duties – throwing himself into his work.

He had been completely unprepared when Isaiah had told him that Quinn had returned to Summerfeld. He had followed her and Kellan to Dragon’s Peak with the intention of putting the past behind them, but he had found Quinn in danger and he could not allow anything to happen to her. He had been even more unprepared for the physical reaction he had experienced holding her in his arms in that cave in the mountain. Since then he had watched her closely. Quinn had changed – she was harder, more unyielding, more determined. She had always been stronger than Avery, not on the surface, but deep down where it mattered. He had just never seen it before.

It took a few miles of driving before Quinn could get her breathing back to normal. How dare he, she thought to herself. How dare he dredge up old memories... memories that she had spent years trying to repress. She would not let Tristan get under her skin again, there was too much at stake.

Chapter 28

“Why are we moving camp?” Jonas asked, as Balthazar packed up the Chevy.

“There are woods, not far from here,” his father replied curtly, “and a freshwater stream. It’s only about an hour’s drive.” Jonas nodded, satisfied. At least they weren’t leaving the area and their current living arrangement was hardly comfortable, with nothing to shelter them from the baking sun.

Balthazar had picked a campsite miles from the portal to Summerfeld, and deep within the trees. He did not want any of his people stumbling upon the canyon, or any of the Guardians stumbling across them.

“Don’t you think you should tell him?” Rowena murmured, approaching silently.

“Not yet.” Balthazar shook his head. He didn’t want to start a riot. Many of the gypsies had also been searching for generations and he couldn’t be certain that they wouldn’t flock to the City in pandemonium. He had to find a way to tell them, but only once he could contain them.

“Jonas starts school tomorrow.” This reminder was met with a surly frown. “It might be good for him,” she persisted, “to meet some people his own age.”

“You know exactly what is going to happen at that school,” Balthazar would not be convinced. It pained him to think of the cruel treatment his son would endure.

“You never know,” Rowena sighed, but secretly, she knew Balthazar was right. “Anyway,” she shook her head, changing the subject, “there’s a market fair coming up. It’s a decent-size town so hopefully we’ll have a good turn-out.”

Balthazar softened, reaching for her and planting a kiss on her smooth forehead. Rowena and her girls were the only reason that they had managed to survive for so long. They made more money at the fairs than the gypsies made by any other means, although the men were constantly on the lookout for odd jobs. People had become more cynical over the years and they no longer wanted to employ drifters. The gypsies' path was not an easy one.

“What would I do without you?” he murmured into her hair.

“You would be lost,” she admitted teasingly.

“Rowena,” a feminine voice called, and Rowena stepped away from Balthazar.

“Yes, Cara?” The woman’s dirty blonde hair hung in wispy tendrils around her face, caked with sweat and dust. Nearby, her husband, Zebulon, was loading the final boxes into the back of his station wagon.

“We’re ready,” Cara replied, forcing a stilted smile. The two women had a love-hate relationship. Cara’s ancestor had been Jasmine’s best friend, and the women in both families had remained close through the generations. Rowena and Cara had grown up inseparable, sharing everything with one another. Two mischievous imps, they had, on more than one occasion, seen the tanned hide of their fathers’ belts, but this only served to bring them closer together. Blossoming into womanhood, their contrasting beauty – Rowena’s dark wantoness paired with Cara’s fair indifference – earned them the adoration of many of the youths in the camp. Both girls, however, had eyes for only one. Balthazar Blackman. Cara was more aggressive in her pursuit of their leader’s handsome son, but in the end, it was an outsider who caught Balthazar’s attention. During an extended stay near a thriving market fair, Balthazar had met a local farm girl. Plain, but kind, Rose had captured Balthazar’s heart, and despite his parents’ protests that he should marry within their community, he had taken her for his wife. Her own parents did not mind in the least, only thankful that someone had deigned to marry her, and Rose was unhampered in her desire to join the travelling community.

Conceding defeat gracefully, Rowena had embraced the girl and befriended her. Cara, green with envy, and far harder by nature, refused to even acknowledge Rose, and slowly, this caused a rift in her friendship with Rowena. Cara had gone on to marry Zebulon - a friend of Balthazar’s, and she had enjoyed a happy, although barren marriage. Rowena had never married, but she remained close with Rose, and, when Jonas was born, she doted on the boy. She had never intended to steal Balthazar’s heart after the death of her friend, only to help him with the baby, Jonas, but invariably her love for Jonas had eased Balthazar’s pain and he had begun to see her in a new light.

In the wake of Rose’s death, Rowena and Cara had rekindled their friendship. They were never again as close as they had been as children, but both women were grateful to have one another.

“Rowena?” Cara’s voice sounded again and Rowena gave a small shake of her head.

“Thank you,” she replied, finally, smiling at her old friend. “I guess its time to go.”

As the convoy trundled along, Rowena spotted a few more cornflowers along the roadside. Like before, they defied logic; single plants growing through the dry cracked earth. Rowena could scarcely comprehend the gravity of Balthazar’s discovery. He had been right about the sign. She had always known that he would find the lost city, but now that he had – now that they had finally fulfilled their destiny, she had no idea what would happen next.

The girl sitting beside her in the passenger seat of the truck shifted, hoisting her heavy skirt off her legs in an effort to cool herself.

“It won’t be long,” Rowena soothed. Cosima was one of her charges, a young girl of nineteen who Rowena protected from the lecherous advances of the men in camp. Cosima bore a physical resemblance to Cara – she had the same lank blonde hair and pretty green eyes, but that was where the similarities ended. While Cara was outspoken and confident, Cosima shied away from anyone who got too close to her. Her fear and insecurity stemmed from a horrific past. The gypsies could be barbaric, and Cosima had been victimised by the worst of their kind. Rowena was determined to protect her from ever having to go through anything like that again.

The entire community was delighted with their new campsite. They manoeuvred carefully through the trees to the clearing that Balthazar had picked out. The surrounding trees provided much-needed shade and they could hear the gurgling water of the nearby stream even from the campsite. Birds chirped in the trees and the soft grass was far friendlier than the hard, compacted earth.

Rowena stopped the truck with a creak of the protesting chassis and climbed out.

“They seem happy,” Balthazar remarked as he came to stand beside her.

“You made the right choice,” she replied. “We couldn’t have stayed out there for much longer.” She watched as the gypsies bounded around, their spirits buoyed. “They will be happy here.”

“There is another advantage to this particular location,” Balthazar murmured, an undercurrent in his voice. Rowena raised a dark brow and he smiled.

“Privacy.”

Leaving the others to delight in their new environment and unpack, Balthazar spirited Rowena into the trees, his need for her far outweighing his satisfaction that his people were rejuvenated.

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 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 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.

Chapter 31

That night Quinn left the house on the pretext of visiting with Todd and Sarah. Mindful that Tristan was watching through the partial opening in the curtains in the hall, she knocked on Sarah’s door and stepped inside the minute it opened.

“We didn’t have plans for tonight, did we?” Sarah asked vaguely, her blonde hair piled on the very top of her head in a tangled mess.

“We didn’t,” Quinn apologised, grinning at her friend. “But I have some people staying over and I wanted an excuse to get out of the house.”

“I would be the excuse, then?” Sarah smiled back.

“You would indeed! Mind if I slip out the back door?”

“Not at all,” Sarah followed her through the house. As she passed through the kitchen, Quinn noticed the stack of papers on the table.

“Reports?” she asked sympathetically.

“Yeah,” Sarah groaned. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to put enough information into a few short lines to appease parents' desperate need for detail? What they really want is a play-by-play of every single day of their little darling’s semester.”

“I can imagine,” Quinn agreed, thinking of Ava and Jack, and how she would be exactly the same when they went to kindergarten. “Well, good luck,” she added, as she reached for the back door handle.

“Hey, who’s staying with you?” Sarah asked, as an icy breeze blew through the kitchen, setting the papers fluttering. Sarah quickly slapped her palm down on top, holding them in place.

“Just an old friend and his associate,” Quinn replied lightly.

“How long are they staying?”

“I’m not sure. A few weeks maybe.”

“Well in that case invite them around for games night.” Quinn had almost forgotten that tomorrow night was their weekly game evening.

“I can’t make it this week, or next,” she apologised, wondering if this situation could get any more complicated than it already was. “But I promise we’ll definitely make it one evening before they leave. See you later,” she called softly as she pulled the door closed behind her.

Quinn couldn’t bring herself to approach Drake’s house, not while there was a very likely possibility that Genevieve was inside. She had no doubt that, despite what Drake might believe, Genevieve would kill her at the very first opportunity that presented itself. Quinn blew into her hands, trying to warm them. The night was colder than any she had experienced since arriving in Brookfield.

“What the hell am I doing?” she murmured, pondering the lunacy in standing across the street from a house inhabited by two vampires.

“I was just going to ask you that exact question,” a low voice murmured beside her and Quinn leapt away before she had fully registered Drake’s voice.

“How did you know...?”

“I followed you,” he replied swiftly, before she had even finished her question. Shaking his head disparagingly, he continued without compunction. “Apparently you were looking for me, so I hardly see the problem.” Again, Quinn felt the unease that he was so good at masking his true nature, that she had been unable to sense him tailing her, but it would do no good to bring it up, and she hardly expected Drake to apologise.

“We have a problem,” she began, but he was only half-paying attention. Cocking his head to the left, in the direction of the house, he suddenly held up a hand to halt her.

“Not here,” he cautioned, and, without warning, he bent at the knee, sweeping her up. Quinn didn’t have even a second to protest, when he moved, streaking away into the night, so fast that the wind whipped the half-spoken words from her mouth.

“Phil’s?” she asked, when he lowered her gently to her feet mere seconds later, surprised by his choice of venue.

“It’s rowdy,” he offered, by way of explanation. “We won’t be overheard.”

They made their way to one of the tables at the far end of the small pub, Drake waving over at Phil as they did, signalling his order. Phil gave him the thumbs-up, and almost immediately as they sat down, two drinks appeared on the table before them.

“Anything to eat?” the waitress asked, smiling politely.

“No, thank you,” Drake replied, not bothering to ask Quinn if she wanted anything. Quinn didn’t mind – it wasn’t as if she and Drake were friends so the normal rules of etiquette didn’t apply, and besides, she wasn’t hungry. Her stomach was tied up in knots at the thought of exposing Rafe to a vampire, even if this particular vampire was quite unlike any other she had ever encountered. The fact remained that vampires were sworn enemies of the inhabitants of Summerfeld, and Rafe was one of those inhabitants.

“Well?” Drake opened his arms, feigning great expectation. Quinn steeled herself to tell him about Rafe, but first, there was another favour she needed to ask of him.

“You said that you would help me find my niece and nephew...” she began, and he nodded in agreement. “Before you do that, I want you to help me find the vampire who murdered their mother.”

“Your sister was killed by a vampire? How do you know?”

“I know,” Quinn stated bluntly. Avery’s body had been a ravaged, bloody mess. The thought alone made Quinn want to stake Drake right here in the dimly-lit tavern.

“Ah,” Drake leaned back, a knowing glint in his eye. “You seek revenge.” Lacing his long fingers together, a cold, hard look came over him. “You want me to turn over the name of one of my own people?” he sounded furious, and Quinn could hardly blame him.

“Yes.”

“And what makes you think I could track down a vampire who murdered some insignificant girl? It’s hardly as if we keep track.” Quinn flinched at the callous, unfeeling way he spoke of his victims.

“My sister wasn’t some insignificant girl,” she bit out through clenched teeth, her cheeks flushing with ill-concealed anger.

“Well, of course not - not to you. Forgive me, I did not mean to make light of your loss. I only mean that among the many faceless, nameless victims we prey upon, it is unlikely that your sister would be remembered.”

“She would be,” Quinn assured him, the anger settling to a dull fury in the pit of her stomach. Raising her head defiantly she spoke with ill-concealed pride, “My sister was a Guardian.”

At these words Drake sat back as though she had struck him and Quinn felt a sense of sadistic pleasure. She was not surprised by his reaction. The killing of a Guardian was the ultimate feat for a vampire and would be exploited voraciously. In one thousand years, only a handful of Guardians had been discovered and destroyed by the vampire community. It would not be difficult for Drake to discover the details of Avery’s murderer. Quinn filled the silence by ordering another round of drinks. Drake drained his in one slug and set the empty glass down on the table between them, his green eyes boring into her own. Quinn could feel the tension building between them, but she did not speak, waiting for him to reach his decision.

Drake had many thoughts running through his head as he stared at Quinn, but first and foremost was the fact that he had never heard of her sister’s death. This was inconceivable – the death of a Guardian would usually spread through the vampire community like wildfire. Unless, finally, the elders had learned from their mistakes and were keeping all information relating to the Quest under wraps. Drake had made it very clear that he was no longer interested in finding the City, but the fact that they had withheld information from him infuriated him. He was also well aware that Genevieve was fiercely loyal to the cause which meant that she would have been privy to this information. And she had kept it from him. Drake’s anger at her disobedience and her betrayal made his fangs extend slightly, and a low growl emanated from within his chest.

Quinn’s eyes were drawn to the sharp points of his fangs. His hand looked as though it had turned to stone around his glass. He was gripping it so tightly she was surprised it hadn’t shattered.

“Drake?” she prompted. He was staring right at her, but she doubted he could see her, or even hear her, which was why his next words surprised her.

“Fine. I will find out what I can.”

“Thank you,” she sighed. She hadn’t realised she had been holding her breath. Quinn didn’t know why this had only occurred to her now, but meeting Drake and developing an ‘understanding’ with him had given her access to information that she had never imagined possible. For the first time there was the possibility that she would find Avery’s killer. And Drake was absolutely right about one thing, she did want revenge.

“Well, if that’s all?” Drake withdrew his wallet and pulled out a few notes, tossing them on the table.

“Actually...”

“Seriously?” he growled, his patience wearing thin. “There’s more?”

“I wanted to tell you that there is another Guardian in town,” Quinn announced.

“I thought you got rid of them,” he hissed.

“I did. This is a new Guardian. He is not here for you, or me for that matter, but he will be staying at my house for a few weeks. I thought I should warn you. You need to make sure that he doesn’t catch wind of you, or Genevieve,” Quinn added generously.

“Genevieve is out of town,” he replied automatically.

“There is something else,” Quinn persisted, refusing to be diverted. “But first I need to know that I can trust you.”

“You saved my life,” Drake reminded her begrudgingly. “You will come to no harm from me, I can promise you that. Although I owe your Guardian friend nothing. I think it would be best if you asked him to leave.”

“I can’t do that; believe me, if I could, I would.”

“I believe you,” he replied seriously, sensing the longing in her words.

“There is a ward of Summerfeld in Brookfield.”

Drake sucked in an astonished intake of breath.

“A wolf,” Quinn continued, the gleam in his eye terrifying her. “He has been shunned by the pack and he will die if he remains in the City.”

“He will die here,” Drake pointed out with an icy calm.

“No, he won’t. You owe me, Drake.”

“I didn’t say that I would kill this wolf,” he retorted dryly. “But you know as well as I that my people will find him... will destroy him, as they did all the others.”

“That is not going to happen.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you are the only vampire in the world who can get in,” Quinn explained. “And I need your word that you will not harm him.”

Drake considered this for a moment, his long fingers drumming the brandy snifter in his hand. His cold eyes bored into Quinn, his mouth curled in a disdainful line. Eventually, when she could no longer bear the silence, he nodded curtly.

“I will leave him alone,” he promised, “but I cannot speak for Genevieve or any others.”

“Genevieve owes me too; I let her live!” Quinn snapped, and a short, harsh bark of derisive laughter escaped him.

“I doubt that she will see it that way.”

“Well then, make her.”

“I am not Genevieve’s master!” he bit out cuttingly, “nor are you mine. You have asked me a favour, young Guardian, and I have agreed, despite my better judgement. Do not test me.”

Quinn had become so accustomed to Drake that she had lost sight of the fact that he was her enemy. Nodding, she lifted her beer, draining its contents and getting abruptly to her feet.

“Thank you. I understand.” Setting her bottle down on the table she turned on her heel, waving stiltedly at Phil as she passed the bar counter. She had done all that she could. She believed Drake – he would pose no threat to Rafe. Genevieve, on the other hand, was another matter altogether, but for now, Quinn was content.

After all, Genevieve hadn’t been invited in.

Chapter 32

“You’re not to leave the house,” Quinn instructed when she let herself back inside. Rafe was slouched on the sofa; his shoulders slumped as though he carried the weight of the world upon them.

“Where would I go?’ he asked hollowly, and Quinn noticed the black circles under his eyes and the fact that he still hadn’t shaved. He looked wild and desperate.

“Why don’t you get yourself cleaned up?” she asked gently.

“What for?”

“You look terrible, Rafe. Take a shower, have a shave and then go and get some sleep.”

“What are you, my mother?”

“No, actually... your mother is in Summerfeld, along with the rest of your people, as you well know.”

“They’re not my people, anymore,” he muttered desolately, heaving himself off the sofa just as Quinn noticed Tristan standing quietly at the foot of the stairs. Rafe barely seemed to notice him as he passed by on his way up.

“What was that about his mother?’ Tristan asked eventually, stepping into the room. Tristan had only been a Guardian for a few years - eight to be exact - and he didn’t know much about pack history. Quinn had spent hours with Isaiah learning the background of all the species that resided within the City. The wolves in particular, had always fascinated her, and she had learned as much as she possibly could about their pack behaviour.

“It all happened before I became a Guardian,” she explained, taking a seat on the sofa that Rafe had so recently vacated. Tristan sat down beside her, their knees practically touching and Quinn stared down at his leg, trying not to be affected by his sudden nearness.

“But you know her... Rafe’s mother?” Tristan prompted, as Quinn had fallen silent.

“Yes,” she nodded, snapping back to the moment. “And so do you. Vivienne is Rafe’s mother.” Tristan frowned as he tried to recall.

“The old Omega female?”

“That’s the one. Rafe’s father was her original Alpha.”

“Her original Alpha?”

“Are you going to repeat everything I say as a question?’ Quinn snapped, irritated, before the wounded look on his face registered. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “It’s just been a rough few days.” She proceeded to tell him the story.

Rafe’s father had been the pack Alpha until he had been ousted by an ambitious younger wolf named Grayson. Grayson selected Vivienne as his mate and Vivienne fulfilled her duty as dictated by pack law, shifting her allegiance to the new Alpha, although it was not without great personal sacrifice. Her son, Rafe, had grown up a strong man and an even stronger wolf, but he had never thought to challenge Grayson for the Alpha position until his closest childhood friend had come of age and caught Grayson’s eye. The werewolves were not permitted to drink from the fountain of youth until they came of age. The fountain kept them young, slowing their aging remarkably, but Vivienne had lived a very long life and she was no longer the desirable wolf she once was. Grayson, having found a new, more attractive female, spurned Vivienne and insisted that, at the next full moon, the younger, beautiful raven-haired wolf become his mate. Faced with his mother’s humiliation and the thought of his friend being forced into a life of servitude, Rafe finally challenged Grayson and, under the light of a full moon, he had defeated him, becoming the new Alpha.

“And the young female?” Tristan asked when Quinn had finished.

“Channon,” Quinn confirmed quietly. It was only natural that Channon had become Rafe’s mate, their relationship borne not out of law, but out of love. Channon and Rafe had been together ever since... until now. Now she was once again facing the threat of a forced union - only this time, Rafe had failed to protect her.

“That’s why he’s taking it so badly,” Tristan murmured, a sense of true empathy radiating off him. “He really loves her.” His sky-blue eyes lingered on Quinn’s face as he said it, and a moment passed between them that made Quinn’s heart beat more quickly in her chest.

“You must understand that they are only wolves one night of the month. The rest of their time is spent as humans and they feel just as deeply as we do. Rafe and Channon are not just pack mates, they are husband and wife in the truest sense of the word. How would you like it if Avery had been forced to leave you because someone else was better at fighting?”

“She was,” Tristan whispered, his breath catching in his throat. Quinn immediately regretted her words. It was true, Avery had been taken from him because she had not been able to defeat the vampire that attacked her... and Tristan had not been there to save her. For the first time Quinn understood the guilt that must eat at him every day and she realised that she didn’t want him to live with that burden, crucifying him every time he thought of her.

“I’m sorry, Tristan; for taking my grief out on you. I know you loved her just as much as I did.” His tormented gaze fixed on her, but he seemed to grow in stature as if the burden had eased ever so slightly.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that.” He paused and then his eyes glazed over as if he was putting an invisible wall in place. “But it was my fault. I should have been there. She might still be alive today...”

“Or you might both be dead,” Quinn pointed out. “You have no idea how many vampires were in the house that night. You were a very new Guardian. If Avery fell to their assault you probably would have too.” Quinn was not trying to insult Tristan, but it was a fact. Avery had been a very skilled Guardian, her talents surpassed only by Isaiah, Daniel and Quinn herself.

Tristan nodded morosely, but Quinn caught a defiant look in his eye.

“Look, I have to go away for a few days. Do you think you can keep an eye on Rafe?” she changed the subject.

“Where are you ..?” Tristan began, but then he stopped abruptly, as if remembering he had no right to question her. “Of course, no problem.”

“You will make sure he doesn’t leave the house?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “but I don’t think there is any threat of being discovered out here in the middle of nowhere.”

Quinn, unfortunately, knew just how wrong he was.

“You can’t be too careful,” she cautioned. “You haven’t lived in man’s realm since you became a Guardian.” Again, something flashed in his blue eyes, something she couldn’t put her finger on, but when he looked at her, he conceded.

“I’ll keep him inside,” Tristan promised. “But please, Quinn... be safe.”

It warmed her more than she cared to admit to have someone worrying about her. Someone who cared whether she lived or died, who would be waiting for her safe return. She had been alone for so long she had forgotten how it felt to be needed. It felt good.

Chapter 33

Drake knocked lazily on the heavy wooden door, leaning against the cold stone while he waited.

The door was opened by a sallow-skinned, shaven-haired vampire looking mildly curious, before he clapped eyes on Drake and all curiosity vanished, replaced by alarm. Drake wedged his foot into the door as the broader man tried to slam it closed.

“Hello Nicholai,” he drawled, shoving the door open so hard that it ricocheted off the wall behind it.

“Drake,” Nicholai stammered, his eyes wild. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Lenora,” Drake explained politely, “if that’s all right with you, of course?”

“And what if it’s not?” A high voice called from the top of the stairs and Drake grinned up at his former mistress. “Don’t even think about answering that question,” Lenora snapped at Nicholai as she swept down the stairs. “Just because I tolerate you in the bedroom doesn’t mean your opinion matters.” She winked discreetly at Drake as Nicholai averted his eyes, trying to keep his temper in check. Despite the cool weather, Lenora was dressed, as always, in the smallest slip of a dress, with a modest neckline, but exposing a long, bare expanse of thigh.

Drake had had a brief fling with Lenora many years ago, before Charlotte, and then again briefly after. Lenora had gotten him through the worst of Charlotte’s defection, her natural good spirits keeping him sane and preventing him from giving in to the depression that had threatened to overwhelm him. If it weren’t for Lenora, Drake doubted he would have ever been able to get over his guilt at having turned Charlotte.

“Lenora,” he said now, greeting her fondly, opening his arms as she sashayed into his embrace.

“Drake,” her husky voice murmured seductively in his ear. “It has been far too long.” She planted a kiss full on his mouth, her tongue flitting across his bottom lip before she nipped it playfully. Drake smiled into her mischievous green eyes, a few shades darker than his own.

Ignoring Nicholai, Lenora linked her arm through Drake’s and walked him down the porch steps.

“I have something to show you,” she said, as they reached the massive garage which housed Lenora’s many expensive cars. Drake suspected what was coming but he waited for the doors to open completely before passing comment.

“You didn’t!” he laughed as he caught sight of her latest acquisition – a glossy red Lamborghini which held pride of place in the centre of the immaculate, tiled garage.

“I couldn’t resist,” she replied airily, “it’s so pretty.”

“Only you would call that pretty,” he groaned, moving closer to admiring the supercar. “This probably cost more than your house. Why do you need so many cars? You can’t even drive.”

“I can drive,” she pouted, “I just prefer other people to do it for me.”

“You are such a snob.”

“So, to what do I owe the honour of this visit?’ Lenora changed the subject.

“Can’t I simply visit an old friend?”

“If that were true, I’d be delighted,” she remarked drily, “but we both know you want something.” Drake made a dramatically pained face, but he didn’t get to the reason he was there and she rolled her eyes.

“How is Genevieve?” she asked politely. He would get to his point when he was good and ready, and not a moment sooner.

“I am not sure – she’s been away.”

“Good riddance,” Lenora stated baldly. “Although how she can risk leaving you unattended is beyond me.”

Drake chuckled. Lenora had never liked Genevieve, not since the moment she had laid eyes on her – and the feeling was mutual. The two women detested each other.

“I see that Nicholai is still in your favour,” he mused.

“For now,” she sighed. “At least until something better comes along. You wouldn’t like to stay, would you?” she arched her perfectly shaped brows suggestively.

“No,” he declined respectfully. “I am afraid not; although the offer is tempting.”

“Well, in that case, I guess he will have to do. So, to what do I owe the honour?’ she repeated. “You didn’t come all the way down here just to turn me down. Again.”

“I didn’t,” he admitted. “I’m looking for information.”

“So of course you came to me,” she shook her head haughtily. Drake noticed that her brown hair was the exact same colour as Quinn’s, a rich, earthy brown.

“Do you know anything about the death of a Guardian a couple of years back?” Drake asked.

Lenora frowned.

“Drake,” she cautioned, her husky voice dropping even lower. “This sounds like Quest business.” Lenora was the only other vampire Drake knew who detested the Quest. She preferred to indulge in life’s simple pleasures, although with her power and influence, she would have made a great asset to the search. Lenora had been around a very, very long time and even Drake, who knew her better than most, did not know why she was so against it.

“It’s not; not really,” he replied. “I’m trying to help a friend.”

“A friend?” she tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail against her bare thigh. “And what does your friend want to know?”

“Who killed her sister.”

Lenora’s composure slipped for just an instant as comprehension dawned on her.

“Are you insane? You can’t be friends with a Guardian, Drake... she’ll kill you.”

“She won’t.”

“She’s a Guardian, for God's sakes!”

“Lenora,” he lowered his own voice menacingly. “You’re going to have to trust me on this one. We’ve been friends a long time.”

“We won’t be friends much longer if you don’t end this.”

“You want me to kill her?”

“I can see by your face that’s not going to happen; but you need to stay as far away from her as you can.”

“Your concern is noted,” he drawled, making it clear that the topic was closed. “Now... do you have the information I’m looking for?”

Lenora curled her lip. Drake was the only man on the planet who dared speak to her like that – he had never been afraid of her – it was one of the reasons she was so fond of him. Of all the lovers she had taken over the years, Drake had always stood out as the one she respected the most. When he had left her, she had never asked him to stay, although she would have preferred it. He had grieved deeply over Charlotte and Lenora had done what she could to ease his heartache, but he had not been ready to settle down. Lenora doubted he ever would be. His long relationship with Genevieve had surprised her, even sparked a flare of envy that she hadn’t felt in years, but she believed it was a relationship borne of convenience rather than real emotion.

“You never did listen,” she scolded, shaking her head, “but to answer your question, no... I never heard anything about a Guardian’s death around that time. Although there was one a few weeks ago - a male. As far as I know the vamps that killed him didn’t live to tell the tale.”

“And yet you know about it,” Drake remarked wryly.

“I know everything,” Lenora grinned, showing her fangs. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

There was not much more she could tell him, but Lenora promised to let him know if she heard anything. Outwardly, she agreed half-heartedly to see what she could find out, but inside she knew she would move heaven and earth to help him. As she watched him walk away, she remembered the first time she had ever laid eyes on him. She had known Lucian for years, and he had asked her to look out for Drake if ever something were to happen to him. Lenora had taken one look at Drake and announced that she would do so happily. Lucian, who had been like a father to Drake, had not taken kindly to her suggestive comment, but Lenora had not heeded his silent warning. Drake was the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on, both human and vampire included, and she had enjoyed a brief fling with him behind Lucian’s back. Lucian was blissfully unaware that Lenora and Drake had even met.

Then, Lucian had been killed and Drake had been so angry, so bitter that he had joined the Quest, and, despite Lenora’s best efforts, he would not be swayed from his course. She had lost track of him for a long time; her guilt that she had failed in her promise to her old friend eating her up inside, until the day that Drake arrived on her doorstep, a broken shadow of his former self. He had finally left Charlotte; his guilt that he had turned her into a monster crippling him. Slowly, Lenora had helped him to heal. They had a strong emotional connection and a brief physical attraction, but she had helped him through his darkest time. It eased her conscience somewhat when she finally convinced him to abandon the Quest.

“What did he want?” Nicholai demanded when she re-entered the house.

“That’s none of your business,” Lenora scolded, shutting the door and dropping the slip of a dress to the floor at her feet. Nicholai’s pupils dilated as he watched it slither over her smooth skin. “You are here for my pleasure,” Lenora reminded him, and Nicholai darted forward, eager to please.

Chapter 34

Quinn checked in regularly with Tristan during the two weeks that she was gone. Rafe had not left the house and Quinn consoled herself that, even if he wanted to, Tristan would not discover her hidden room while Rafe was there watching him.

The trip to the cottage proved futile – the crystal was not there, although Quinn searched everywhere – in every nook and cranny, missing nothing. The cottage was empty, as was the main house and Quinn was sad to learn from a neighbour that the elderly couple had passed away last spring. With no known relatives, the house had been vacant ever since.

The dusty cottage dredged up painful memories of the year that she and Avery had spent there. It had been one of the happiest times of Quinn’s life, but to remember it grieved her. After two full days of searching had unearthed nothing but cobwebs and disappointment, Quinn conceded defeat and headed back towards Brookfield, making a few stops on the way, as she searched any location she could think of that was remotely tied to Avery.

Arriving home after ten in the evening she was surprised to find a light still on, shining through the downstairs window. Opening the front door she tiptoed through the hall and, rounding the corner, she spotted Tristan on the sofa, staring unseeingly at the TV.

“Hey,” he whispered, switching the TV off. “You’re back.”

“I am,” she shrugged out of her coat and threw it over the back of the sofa, before collapsing beside him.

“How’d it go?” Tristan asked.

“No joy,” she admitted, feeling exhausted. She had accomplished nothing and the clock was ticking. She had just over a week before her month was up. “There are still a few places I want to check, but I had to come back.”

“Why?”

“Rafe,” she answered, without thinking. She didn’t notice his face fall. “The next full moon is just over a week away. We need a plan.”

“What do you suggest we do?”

“We can’t keep him here – it’s too risky with Sarah right next door. I think we should take him out of town – somewhere remote. We can spend the night in the woods.”

“A camp-out. Sounds like fun,” he tried to make light of it but Quinn didn’t respond. “You okay?” he prompted after a long moment of silence.

“I’ll be fine,” she sighed. “I’m just tired.” Heaving herself off the sofa, she made her way to the stairs. “Goodnight, Tristan.”

Quinn took one look at Rafe the following morning as he shuffled down the stairs and her eyes widened in horror. Rafe looked even worse than before, the stubble of his beard flecked with grey. Rounding on him, her concern only fuelled her anger.

“Enough!” she thundered, so loudly that Tristan came sprinting down the stairs, a stake appearing in his hands as if summoned from thin air. Quinn was so wound up she couldn’t appreciate his dexterity.

“What?” Rafe’s eyes darted around, sensing the cause of her aggravation.

“You look like crap,” Quinn stated bluntly. “Have you even had a shower since I’ve been gone?” Tristan visibly relaxed, stowing the stake into the back of his tracksuit pants. Quinn averted her eyes from his bare chest, staring at Rafe expectantly.

“I...” he stopped, his eyes narrowed in thought.

“The fact that you don’t remember is answer enough,” Quinn snapped.

“Why would I bother?” Rafe replied with far more attitude. “It’s hardly as if I have anyone to impress. I can’t even leave this blasted house!” Ignoring the blight against her home, Quinn rubbed her temples. Tristan shook his head at her, warning her to leave well alone, but she couldn’t bear to see Rafe so unhappy. An idea occurred to her, one that she would ordinarily have dismissed, but she knew that if they kept him cooped up much longer, Rafe would snap. He was a wolf, after all, and wolves couldn’t be caged.

Picking up her phone, before she could lose her nerve, she dialled Sarah’s number.

“Hey, you’re back!” Sarah’s permanently sunny disposition shone through in her voice, a stark contrast to the melancholic mood in Quinn’s house.

“I am. And I was wondering if we were still on for Wednesday?”

“Games night? Absolutely!”

“Fabulous. Do you mind if I bring my house guests?”

“They’re still there?” Sarah was surprised. “I haven’t seen anyone since you left.”

“You must have missed them. So, do you mind?”

“Of course not. The more the merrier. I’ll tell Todd to get some more beer.”

“You are a saint,” Quinn offered. “See you then.”

“We’re going out?” Tristan mused when she had hung up. Rafe tried to appear nonchalant, but Quinn could see the glimmer of hope in his eyes. He must be desperate to be looking forward to something as mundane as spending an evening with strangers.

“Yes,” she nodded, meeting Rafe’s gaze. “But you’re going to clean up before you’re allowed anywhere.”

“Okay,” he nodded, relenting.

On Wednesday night, true to his word, Rafe appeared in the living room looking like a different man. He had shaved, probably that morning, so only a dark shadow remained where a barbaric beard had been before. His hair was still wild, clearly not brushed, but at least it was clean, and his clothes were only slightly creased from being inside his suitcase for so long.

“No, we’ll all go,” Quinn replied to Tristan’s proposal that she only take Rafe along to Sarah’s for games night. There was no way she was leaving Tristan alone in her house for a few hours. Tristan was a Guardian, after all, and with Rafe not around he might well discover her hidden room.

“Hey!” Sarah opened the door and smiled at the three of them. She had a brown smudge under her left eye and blonde strands were escaping her ponytail. Quinn noticed the way her forehead creased slightly as her gaze fell upon Rafe. He may look a million times better than he had yesterday, but his eyes were hollow and his hair looked as though it hadn’t been brushed for weeks; which, of course, it hadn’t. Sarah then gave Tristan a very approving once over and Quinn fought the urge to roll her eyes. Tristan had always been too good-looking for his own good.

“This is my friend, Tristan,” Quinn introduced quickly, “and this is Rafe.” Sarah extended her hand politely to both of them before ushering them all back into the house.

“I made dessert,” Sarah called as she led the way to the living-room.

“I can see that,” Quinn smiled, indicating the chocolate mousse smeared across her face.

“Oh! Whoops!” Sarah quickly rubbed at her cheek, laughing infectiously.

Todd eased himself off the sofa, shaking hands with Tristan and Rafe, while Sarah pulled Quinn into the kitchen.

“You could have mentioned your friend was young and marvellous-looking,” she scolded, rounding on Quinn, “I didn’t even brush my hair!” She frowned suddenly, the thought reminding her of Rafe’s dishevelled appearance and opened her mouth to question Quinn about it

“You look fantastic,” Quinn said quickly, heading her off. It was a fact though. Sarah was adorable, no matter what she wore.

“You’re looking pretty glamorous yourself tonight,” Sarah eyed her speculatively. “You’re actually wearing make-up! Is there something you want to tell me?” she waggled her brows suggestively.

“Don’t even go there,” Quinn grinned. “It’s not like that.”

“It should be,” Sarah sighed dreamily.

“Should be what?” Todd’s voice from the doorway made them both jump.

“Nothing,” Sarah blushed scarlet.

“Sure,” Todd grinned, rubbing the back of his head so that his black hair stood up on end. “What are you girls doing in here anyway? We have a game to win!” he grabbed Sarah by the waist and pulled her against him. She emitted a soft “oomph” as she collided with his chest, but giggled as he planted a kiss full on her mouth.

“If you two don’t mind...” Quinn drawled, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot. Todd grinned at her over the top of Sarah’s head.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, taking Sarah’s hand and leading her back to the living-room. “Let the games begin!”

Chapter 35

“Geronimo!” Sarah yelled triumphantly and Todd fist-punched the air. Tristan met Quinn’s eye across the room, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Sarah and Todd’s good spirits were infectious - even Rafe seemed to have been roused from his usual melancholy, and was participating as best he could. Despite having three people on their team, they were losing badly.

“One of the downfalls of being a Guardian,” Tristan mumbled through a mouth full of potato crisps when Sarah and Todd went to fetch the dessert. “You don’t get to watch a lot of movies.”

“Try never watching any, ever,” Rafe countered, and Tristan looked horrified.

“I understand now why you left Summerfeld, Quinn,” Rafe continued, “you spent the last two years living like a normal person.”

“Raising two kids doesn’t exactly leave you much free time,” Quinn pointed out, without malice. The alcohol was warming her from the inside.

“It sucks to be us,” Rafe grumbled woefully, lifting his beer and examining its contents, while Quinn and Tristan tried to hide their amusement. The werewolf was very obviously drunk, and had become calmer, but infinitely more retrospective for it. “We should definitely have beer in Summer...”

“Let me help you with that!” Tristan interrupted, distracting Sarah who had just re-entered the room, carrying a tray of steaming coffee mugs. Quinn breathed a sigh of relief at his quick thinking, and shook her head at Rafe, who seemed oblivious to his near slip-up.

“Thank you,” Sarah breathed shyly, lowering her eyes as Tristan smiled down at her. Typical, Quinn thought. It takes him only one evening to utterly charm my closest friend. Briefly, her thoughts flitted to Piper from whom she had drifted so far apart. Piper was very like Sarah in so many ways and Quinn wondered idly if that was part of the reason she was so fond of her young neighbour. She would make it up to Piper, Quinn thought. After all, when she returned to the Guardians, she would probably never see Sarah again. The thought pained her, but it was the way of her world. Quinn had never had any human friends before – human lives were fleeting, and Quinn could think of nothing worse than watching those you cared about age and die.

“You guys ready to be annihilated?” Todd called confidently as he backed into the room, balancing two trays of plates laden with chocolate mousse on his arms.

“You haven’t won yet,” Quinn quipped, stepping forward and taking one of the trays from him.

“Oh, but we will,” he promised, winking at her.

And, of course, they did. Rafe was too drunk to even hazard a guess, and neither Tristan nor Quinn could make any sense of the titles they selected over the next few rounds. Todd and Sarah, on the other hand, operated like a finely-tuned machine, practically reading each other's minds.

“Annihilated,” Todd confirmed, nudging Quinn in the ribs as Sarah unnecessarily tallied up their scores.

“We won!” she announced, as though it surprised her, and Quinn laughed.

“I demand a recount,” she grinned. Meeting Tristan’s eyes, her smile slowly faded. Tristan was looking at her in a way that he hadn’t for years – in a way that she never dreamed he would look at her again. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest.

“I think we should take him home,” Quinn mumbled, turning her attention to Rafe in an effort to distract herself. Rafe was snoring quietly on the sofa in an upright position, his head drooping onto his chest. Sarah, who had been looking between Quinn and Tristan, immediately agreed.

“Why don’t you help Tristan, Todd?” she suggested, “Quinn, will you help me take these trays back to the kitchen.”

“Sure,” Quinn replied, puzzled. Sarah was no master of discretion, and it was apparent to everyone that she wanted to talk to Quinn in private. “What’s up?” she asked, the second they were out of earshot.

“Oh my God,” Sarah gushed, “did you see that?”

“See what?”

“Oh please, like you don’t know!” she scolded. “The way he was looking at you!” the gushing, simpering way that she said it made Quinn laugh, but she couldn’t deny it.

“We have a history,” she admitted.

“I knew it!” Sarah seized on this new piece of information with gusto. “He likes you, Quinn. You know that, right? Any fool could see that he’s into you.”

“He’s kind of out of bounds,” Quinn scraped the remnants of the tray she was holding into the bin. “It’s complicated; it can’t happen.”

“But you like him?” Sarah pressed, a small frown line appearing between her eyes.

“I...” Quinn paused, not sure how to answer the question. She had tried not to think about it.

“Quinn?” Todd’s voice in the hall was a welcome relief. “They’re home, safe and sound. Tristan said he’d see you there, and he said to thank you for a wonderful evening,” he added, speaking to Sarah.

“I better go,” Quinn dropped the tray back onto the counter and grabbed her purse. As much as she was nervous to face him after the look they had shared, it was even more important that he was not left alone in her house. “Thank you both so much. I’m heading out of town on Thursday,” she added, giving Sarah a quick squeeze. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be away, but I’ll call you.”

“Where are you going this time?” Sarah asked, but Quinn was already heading for the hall.

“I’ll call you!” she called over her shoulder.

The house was dark as she approached and the porch steps creaked as she climbed them. Quinn couldn’t explain why, but she was a bundle of nerves. Something had changed tonight between her and Tristan. The way he had looked at her had made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, things she had suppressed a long time ago, for the sake of her sister’s happiness.

“Avery would have wanted you to be happy,” Tristan had said. Was that true? Quinn couldn’t be sure, but a part of her suddenly desperately wanted to believe it. Letting herself into the house she locked the front door behind her and then leaned back against it, letting the hard wood against her spine steady her.

She knew he was there, only a few feet away. She could sense him, even though there was no light and he didn’t make a sound. He just stood, facing her, less than four yards away. Quinn took a few calming breaths, her eyes fixed on his silhouette. Neither of them spoke, but the more time that passed, the harder Quinn’s heart seemed to drum in her chest. She felt dizzy and guilty and exhilarated all at once.

“Quinn,” his low voice finally broke the silence, but Quinn didn’t hesitate, or give him a chance to say anything else. Determined, she took three strides towards him, stopping only when she was almost on top of him, and then she threw caution to the wind and her arms around his neck. As her mouth met his, Tristan needed no further invitation. His warm hands found her waist, and then moved in unison up her sides, eliciting a shiver that coursed through her whole body as they continued up and under her shirt. Quinn lifted her arms as his hands roamed higher, and Tristan kept moving, lifting her shirt up and over her head, and above her arms, dropping it the second it came clear of her body.

Running his hands back down her arms, Quinn squirmed as his fingertips brushed the soft hollow beneath her arms and then grazed only the outermost curve of her breasts before settling on her waist. Remarkably steady, he slipped his right hand around her waist and, in one swift movement, he pulled her even closer, their bodies pressed together as closely as possible and yet nowhere near close enough. Through it all he didn’t stop kissing her – exploring her mouth, playfully at first, and then more intimately, until she thought she might faint with longing.

“Where’s Rafe,” she gasped, her voice the huskiest of whispers.

“Upstairs, sound asleep,” he assured her. His touch was exactly as she remembered; only now he was stronger and more confident. He had grown up; the boyish protector had become a fully-fledged Guardian. He was also far more controlled. The younger Tristan had loved to rough and tumble, but this new Tristan was keeping the situation tightly reined in. Quinn could sense the enormous restraint he was exerting and it made her heady. Wantonly, she tangled her hand in his thick, messy hair and tugged, hard enough to hurt, trying to elicit a physical response from him. Tristan chuckled against her mouth and then kissed her, more deeply than before, his tongue harder and more invasive.

Still holding her waist, he pushed her backward, steadying her as they backed up together. Only when Quinn’s back hit the front door did he stop, raising his head and gazing at her. Quinn’s eyes were slowly adjusting to the light and she could make out the contours of his face and the dark pools of his eyes which she knew, by heart, were the most exquisite shade of blue. Quinn groaned, resting her head back against the door, closing her eyes and exposing her throat. Tristan obliged her, lowering his handsome head and kissing the hollow of her throat before tracing a line down to the swell of flesh above the lace of her bra. Lifting both her hands, he trapped them above her head with his left hand, and Quinn sighed, keeping her eyes closed.

She felt his warm thumb on her lip, tracing the cupid bow of her mouth. Opening her eyes, she found him gazing at her with love and longing. And in the instant that she registered the agonising adoration in his gaze, it occurred to her that she was, after all, Avery’s twin.

Painfully, Quinn yanked her hands from his grasp, the sudden movement taking him by surprise. He stepped away from her automatically, uncertain of her abrupt change of heart.

“Quinn?” his voice was still thick with passion, but through it she could hear the genuine concern.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head, moving past him and switching on the lamp on the hall table. In the soft golden glow of light, he looked hurt and bewildered. Glancing down at her bare flesh, embarrassed, she quickly retrieved her shirt from the floor and pulled it over her head. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, making eye contact with him. Things had spiralled out of control so quickly she wasn’t even sure how she had let it get this far. Her head swam; Tristan, Avery, lust and guilt all merging into one painful, throbbing headache. “It’s just that...” and suddenly, she found that she didn’t want to tell him. It was humiliating and hurtful enough that he had left her once for her own sister, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit that her biggest fear was that he might be doing this because it was the closest he could get to Avery, and not because he felt anything for Quinn herself. Looking into his compassionate blue eyes, Quinn cringed, mortified. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, before fleeing the room.

Chapter 36

The next few days passed without incident. Tristan’s easy-going nature could not be curbed for long, and he was soon back to his old self, their awkward moment seemingly forgotten, although Quinn caught him watching her often when he thought she wasn’t looking. The full moon came more quickly than seemed possible and the three set out for the woods beside the town’s abandoned train station. Quinn hadn’t seen Drake since her return, which bothered her, though she would never admit it. She assumed that he was keeping his distance because of Rafe and Tristan’s presence, but she wished he had made contact. She would have liked his assurance that Genevieve wouldn’t present a problem now that Rafe was out in the open. He knew that the full moon would require them to take Rafe outside. She guessed she would just have to trust him.

“Fun?” Quinn huffed, breathlessly, as she once again pushed the heavy wolf back towards the fire. They had been standing vigil over Rafe for hours and every muscle in her body protested painfully. “You did say a camp-out would be fun, right?”

“You’re not having fun?” Tristan hissed back, his muscles straining as he added his strength. Rafe was trying to remain in control, but every now and again he would pick up a scent, his hackles would rise and he would start to move away from their small campsite.

“Here,” Tristan opened the trunk of his SUV, which was bigger than Quinn's hatchback. “Let’s get him inside, he’s going to make a run for it soon.”

Quinn had to agree. Rafe was not coping well and it wouldn’t be long before he couldn’t fight his instinct anymore. He had not hunted for two months and the abundance of wildlife around them must be driving him crazy.

Heaving and panting they finally got Rafe into the trunk and slammed it closed. Immediately he let out a howl of anguish, so loud that Quinn could feel the reverberations through the glass of the windshield she was leaning back against.

“I need to find him something to eat,” Tristan said, grabbing Quinn’s crossbow off the back seat.

“I can do it,” Quinn offered.

“I’m a better shot,” he reminded her, amused. He had always been better with a bow than she was, his skill rivalling that of even the Fae.

Tristan had only been gone a few minutes when it happened. A deer picked its way into the clearing, no doubt drawn by the flickering camp-fire. It happened so quickly that Quinn had barely turned, horrified, in the direction of the SUV, when Rafe burst through the glass, knocking her to the ground and bolting after the now-fleeing deer.

Quinn groaned as she pulled herself to her feet. She winced at the burning pain in her side and glanced down to see four deep lacerations where Rafe’s claws had grazed her as he passed, tearing through the fabric of her coat.

“Shit,” Quinn winced again as she pressed her hand down on the seeping wounds.

Drake fought the urge to go to her. He could smell her blood even from here, in the shadows, but he focused on what was more important. Quinn would want him to save the ward – the foolish wolf - who had streaked passed him just seconds before. To his relief and dismay, he heard the male Guardian approaching quickly - crashing through the trees. Tristan would make sure Quinn was okay. Silently, Drake turned and raced after Rafe.

“Quinn!” Tristan dropped the crossbow as he skidded to a halt beside her. Assessing her injury, he insisted she sit. Quinn allowed him only five minutes to fret over her and then she pushed him away. “Tristan,” she instructed. “Rafe is out there... go.”

“I’ll find him,” he promised, while Quinn’s heart raced frantically at the thought of Rafe alone in man’s realm. Just as Tristan was reaching for the bow, they heard a low growl behind them.

“Thank God,” Quinn could have wept in relief as the familiar grey and white wolf came into view, pulling the deer carcass along the ground behind him.

Content, Rafe settled down with his prey, his yellow eyes casting wary looks at them.

“I’m fine,” Quinn repeated, as Tristan fussed over her. It was barely more than a scratch. Satisfied, Tristan let her be.

“The worst is over,” Quinn mused a few hours later. Rafe had eaten his full and was now lying on his side, slitty-eyed, as he lingered between sleep and wakefulness. “Only a few more hours and the sun will be up.”

“Then what?” Tristan asked.

“Then I keep looking for that crystal.”

Tristan mulled over her words.

“Do you think we’ll ever get Jack and Ava back?”

“I don’t know,” Quinn admitted, her heart constricting painfully at the thought of her niece and nephew. She missed them so badly it hurt. “But I won’t stop trying to find them,” she promised, her jaw set stubbornly, “no matter how many obstacles the Guardians throw in my way.”

“Is that what Rafe and I are? Obstacles?” As if in agreement, Rafe let out a wolfish snarl.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know. I never thanked you, Quinn... for taking care of them... for putting them first. For loving them.”

“What’s not to love?” Quinn smiled sadly, the last image she had of the children blossoming in her mind. Jack curled around Ava and Ava clutching her pink bedtime bear.

“They captured my heart,” she whispered.

And just like that, in a moment of pure clarity, Quinn knew, finally and without a doubt, where Avery’s crystal was hidden.

“Oh my God!” In her excitement she leapt up off the soft ground.

“What is it?” Tristan was on his feet too, on high alert for any danger.

“I know where it is,” she said, her eyes meeting his. Laughing, she threw her arms around him, barely feeling the tweak in her side. “I know where Avery’s crystal is!” she squealed, squeezing him tightly and bouncing in his arms. She could not contain her excitement and hardly noticed as his strong, tanned arms closed around her.

Drake watched from the shadows as the scene unfolded before him. They had not seemed to notice that the deer the wolf had dragged into the clearing had a broken hind leg. Drake had caught and wounded the deer to ensure the werewolf would catch it and head back to them – he didn’t want Quinn wandering around in the woods, injured as she was.

Mindful to stay just beyond where they would sense him, his acute hearing missed nothing. It appeared that Quinn had discovered the location of her sister’s crystal. That was a very interesting development, but what bothered Drake more was the fanatical look in the male Guardian’s eyes as he held her close to him. Tristan, she had called him. Drake had been watching people for a very long time, and the tender way Tristan held Quinn in his arms, as if she were a piece of very rare, delicate china that might break any second, irked him.

Unable to watch any longer, he turned his attention to where the wolf had settled in for the night, oblivious of the joyous revelation occurring a few feet away. The wild, musky smell of his blood assaulted Drake’s senses, making him heady. To withstand the call of the blood of one of the ten was no easy feat, but Drake had made Quinn a promise.

He was infinitely grateful that Genevieve was out of town. She had gone in search of Sebastian who she believed had left without saying goodbye. Convinced that only a major breakthrough involving the Quest would incite her brother to do such a thing, Genevieve had gone to see the elders. Drake had not been pleased, not least because she would realise her brother had, in fact, vanished, but also because it only further highlighted Genevieve’s fierce loyalty to the Quest. The row had escalated violently, ending in blood and sex, which seemed to be the only two things they had in common anymore.

Genevieve would be away for a few weeks and Drake could only hope that by the time she returned, the wolf would be gone, because Genevieve would rip him limb from limb if she caught wind of him.

A movement in the firelight caught his eye, and he watched, with a sickening masochism, as the handsome Guardian lowered his head, covering Quinn’s mouth with his own. Turning abruptly on his heel, Drake moved like a ghost through the trees, away from temptation, wondering how the sworn protector of his mortal enemies had gotten so under his skin.

Chapter 37

Quinn was so caught up in the moment that, when her eyes met Tristan’s and he dropped his head, his warm mouth touching hers, she forgot to be outraged, forgot all the reservations she had had the other night. Tristan’s lips were familiar and welcoming, his breath as sweet as she remembered. Her euphoria at figuring out where Avery’s crystal was hidden was overshadowed by a searing heat that seemed to burgeon outward from her very core, and when his tongue slipped between her teeth she gasped against his mouth, her stomach contracting.

In the instant that she regained control of her senses, Tristan released her, pushing her away as if she were hot enough to burn him.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, his eyes wild. Quinn placed her fingers over her mouth, the taste of him still lingering there, words of indignant outrage dying on her lips. Tristan turned his back on her, running his fingers through his already tousled hair, and then dropping his hands limply to his sides. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion.

“It’s okay,” Quinn stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It's fine, Tristan, really.” Sensing his need to be alone, she moved past him towards the SUV.

“Where is it?” he asked suddenly, as though it was only occurring to him now. Quinn had also forgotten the crystal in the heat of the moment.

“It’s safe,” she replied, turning to face him. His eyes searched her face for answers, or forgiveness, she couldn’t tell.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” Tristan continued.

“I’ll need to speak to Daniel directly to negotiate my terms. But first, I want to ask you something. It’s important.”

“Anything.”

“Camille will stay in Summerfeld now, won’t she?”

“Yes,” he nodded, confusion etched on his brow. “She would never leave Monique. Why?”

“How would you feel about Camille as a custodian for Jack and Ava?” The question was obviously not what he had expected, but it took only the briefest of moments for him to consider it and then a broad grin split his face.

“She’s their aunt, too,” he remarked wryly, grasping the significance. If Camille were to raise Jack and Ava they would stay within the City’s boundaries, and would be accessible to them any time they wanted. They would grow up safe and happy, and, better still, raised by their own blood – their father’s sister. Quinn smiled back at him, but as she turned away he broke the happy silence.

“Quinn?”

“Mmm?” Quinn glanced back over her shoulder.

“Does this mean you’re coming back?” He couldn’t contain the elation in his voice. Quinn’s own smile was firmly in place.

“I’m coming back,” she confirmed, opening the back door of the SUV and climbing in to get some rest.

It had occurred to her shortly after meeting Camille and Monique that Camille would be the perfect guardian for the twins, but it was only when Rafe had arrived on her doorstep that Quinn had realised that her Guardian instincts could no longer be suppressed.  She had fought her calling for a long time in order to take care of the children, even convinced herself that the Guardianship was a curse - a bond that she was determined to break, but being back in Summerfeld and seeing Rafe out here in the realm of man, defenceless and in desperate need of her protection, had reminded her that what she fought for was worth it. She could defy the Guardianship all she liked, but the fact remained that she was bonded to Summerfeld’s wards by a bond stronger even than blood and she wanted to protect them. She needed to protect them.

The second the sun crested the horizon and Rafe resumed his human form, they drove back to the house. Tristan helped Rafe inside, giving Quinn her privacy. Pulling her secret phone from her pocket – the one only she and Avery knew about - Quinn walked slowly around the side of the house and called Daniel. Now that the Guardians knew where she was, she might as well use it. Besides, no-one else would be calling the number now that Avery was gone. She could not contact Isaiah – the charm that protected the City being discovered by humans also made it immune to their means of contact. Besides, it was Daniel she had to convince – Daniel, who had never liked her. Quinn had studied Guardian history and she was well aware that the amber crystal that had been bestowed upon her had once belonged to Emily – Daniel’s great love. As warped as it was, she could understand why Daniel found it hard to accept someone who would not be around in the first place if Emily had lived. Quinn had worked her ass off to prove herself, earning the respect of every other Guardian. Only Daniel had never acknowledged her efforts.

She sat on the peeling bench in the back garden, mindful of Alice’s meticulous presence in the house. The char might be in her fifties but she could hear a pin drop and Quinn couldn’t afford to be overheard. Alice had taken the arrival of Tristan and Rafe, who Quinn had simply introduced as her cousin and a friend, in her stride, although her lips had puckered disapprovingly at the fresh mud-stains on the carpet in the hall.

The line clicked open after three short rings but Daniel did not say a word.

“It’s me,” she stated plainly, knowing that he would not speak until he was certain of who was on the other end. He would not recognise this number.

“What is it, Quinn?” he sounded harried.

“I found it.” Quinn heard his astonished intake of breath at her words and she quickly continued, “I’m coming back.”

“No, not yet. I'm travelling, I can’t get back to the City before the week is out.” Guardian phones were virtually untraceable, but even so, they did not give away any detail that might be interpreted by anyone listening in. Daniel, though, took lack of detail to a whole new level. Quinn assumed it was because, being the oldest Guardian, he had never quite felt comfortable with technology. “I assume it will be safe until then?”

“Yes, but...”

“No buts.”

“Surely this is more important than...”

“Actually, it is, but I must finish what I came here to do. I will see you at the end of the week.” And with that, he cut the call.

“He must have found a coven,” Tristan soothed, as Quinn paced the kitchen. “It’s the only thing that would keep him away.” The Hunters spent most of their time seeking and destroying vampires, but it was very rare that they discovered an entire coven. Made up of families or unrelated vampires living together, a large coven could have anything up to thirty vampires in its residence. Covens drew more attention than smaller groups or isolated vampires, both from humans and the Guardians who hunted them, and, as a result, they moved around a lot. If the Hunters had come across a group that size, Daniel would not leave until the coven was destroyed.

“It’s just so frustrating,” Quinn groaned, finally taking a seat in the living room. The children were finally within her grasp and now she had nothing to do but wait. “I can’t sit around and do nothing!”

“I could think of some ways to pass the time,” Tristan murmured provocatively, his hand stroking her cheek. Quinn slapped his arm away without thinking. The hurt expression on his face only fuelled her irritation.

“I’m doing this for Jack and Ava. I can’t just forget about them,” she reproached, and was relieved to hear that she sounded calm and matter-of-fact rather than accusatory. She no longer blamed Tristan – in fact, she wondered if she ever really had, or if it had simply been easier to hate him than to deal with Avery’s death. Tristan had done what every other male Guardian had done since the beginning. It was simply the Guardian way.

“Implying that I have?” he retaliated, his voice low and furious. She didn’t answer. He was so far from the truth that she couldn’t find the words to contradict him, but Tristan took her silence as confirmation and his temper boiled over.

“Jack and Ava?” he asked, sounding harder than she expected. He gave a short, harsh bark of laughter and then ran his hands through his hair. When he spoke again, there was an infinite sorrow in his voice that Quinn had never heard before. “Did you ever stop to think about the consequences of your own actions, Quinn? About the fact that your refusal to return resulted in the Guardians hiding my children, so that even I can’t see them... can’t visit them. And yet,” he shook his head, “I don’t blame you. I know that you only wanted to protect them, and that you did what you thought was best. I-don’t-blame-you,” he echoed, each word impregnated with meaning.

Quinn didn’t reply, her mind seemed to have gone completely blank. She could only stare at him in wonder, letting the words sink in slowly and trying to process what they meant.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” he sighed. “You should too, it’s been a...” he trailed off, gazing at her again in the same way he had at Sarah’s. “Well, anyway, get some rest.” Without waiting for a reply, he left the room.

Quinn slumped onto the sofa, pulling one of the cushions against her chest, trying to assuage the pain that had settled there, deep inside her. Tristan may have been an absent father most of the time, but, to his credit, he had always visited his children, certainly more than her own father had visited her, and probably more than any other male Guardian ever had. And Quinn’s own actions had resulted in the children being removed, taken where neither of them could have access to them. Why had it never occurred to her before? Because he never made you feel responsible, a small voice answered in her head. Because, just like he said, he had never blamed her. Quinn didn’t think she had ever felt so awful in her life. She had blamed him for everything – held it against him like a weapon she could use to shield her own heart. Tristan was selfless and forgiving. Far more than she had ever been. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

Chapter 38

Surfacing from a restless sleep late that afternoon Quinn discovered Tristan was gone.

“He said he had some stuff to take care of up north,” Rafe informed her casually. “He left about an hour ago; said he may as well head straight for Summerfeld when he was done and that he’d meet us there.”

Quinn nodded, forcing a smile.

“How do you feel?”

“Okay,” he replied. “I’m glad it’s over.”

“Me too,” she replied without thinking. Rafe blinked, concern coming over him.

“I didn’t... I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Quinn was saved from having to lie to him by the sound of the doorbell.

“I thought I’d bring you some cake,” Sarah announced, dumping half a vanilla round on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks, saves me cooking. Do you want any?”

“No, I’ve had,” Sarah took a seat at one of the high stools as Quinn took out a huge slice of cake for Rafe. “Where’s Tristan?” Sarah asked as soon as she returned.

“He left,” Quinn sat opposite her friend, spearing a piece of sponge with her fork. She suddenly found she had no appetite. Her initial shock that Tristan would leave Rafe here with only her as protection was tempered by the fact that Tristan had no knowledge of the vampires residing in Brookfield.

“Left? When?” Sarah continued, oblivious.

“Early this morning.”

“Where did he go?”

“I have no idea.” Her curt answers did not dissuade Sarah’s questioning in the slightest.

“Did something happen?” she probed. Quinn dropped her fork with a clatter.

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” she murmured.

She could see Sarah itching for more information, but she surrendered to Quinn’s need for privacy and changed the subject.

“So, where are you off to tomorrow?”

“Meyerton,” Quinn answered automatically, picking a city at random. “I have a few clients out that way who I need to touch base with before they forget who I am.”

“When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied evasively, but when she met Sarah’s gaze she realised that Sarah knew. She knew that Quinn was not being truthful – possibly realised that she might not be coming back.

“Okay,” Sarah relented, pushing back her stool. “Well, travel safely, and I’ll see you when... when you get back.” Quinn followed her to the door wanting to say something, but not sure how. This is why Guardians don’t become friendly with humans she thought angrily. It hurts too much to say goodbye.

“I’ll see you,” she said as they faced each other at the doorway.

Sarah’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, but she visibly pulled herself together and said, with a wry grin, “Probably sooner than you think – I’ll stop by after dinner to fetch my dish.”

Quinn laughed.

“Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

“Bye, Rafe!” Sarah called and a muted reply emanated from the living-room.

“Bye,” she smiled, gazing at Quinn, and then, suddenly, she leaned forward and hugged her tightly, before skipping down the porch steps and disappearing around the side of the house.

Quinn closed the door just as Rafe emerged from the living-room.

“Time to pack up,” she said. They would leave in the morning. She couldn’t wait any longer. She owed Tristan an apology.

Rafe sauntered around, throwing his belongings, which were strewn all over the house, into a bag. Permanently packed, ready to leave at a moment’s notice, Quinn found herself moving from room to room, straightening cushions and wiping down surfaces as she waited for Rafe to go to bed. Only then could she safely access the hidden room. She hadn’t decided yet if she would bring her crystal back with her to Summerfeld. If she left it behind, she would have a reason to come back – to return to Brookfield and the people she was leaving behind. But Guardians avoided ties with the inhabitants of man’s realm at all costs, so why was she even considering it?

“You are going to get square eyes,” she muttered as she passed Rafe watching TV.

“What does that even mean?” he asked, gazing at her, bewildered.

“It’s just something my mom used to say. I’m going to put that cake in the fridge before Sarah comes to fetch her dish.” As she stepped into the kitchen she heard the doorbell.

“Too late,” Rafe called, and she heard the sofa creak as he got up to let Sarah in.

Quinn froze when she heard Drake’s voice. Hurtling from the kitchen, dropping the last of the cake on the tiles in the process, she careened into the hall. Rafe may have been depressed and unperceptive over the past few days, but he was still a natural protector, and one look at her ashen face told him all he needed to know. Turning back towards the door, he snarled – a low, guttural sound that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

She quickly assessed the situation – Rafe bristling with aggression, while Drake stood calmly in the doorway, making no move to enter. He looked only mildly amused by the scene unfolding before him, and, as Rafe turned to check on Quinn, Drake gave her a lazy smile. Rafe would not know, nor could he sense Drake’s vampirism – he would not suspect Drake to be a threat - he was simply reacting to Quinn’s obvious anxiety. Rafe was weakened and would be no match for the vampire – Quinn knew she had to diffuse the situation. Forcing a smile, which felt more like a grimace, she smoothed down her shirt.

“Drake!” she feigned pleasant surprise, “I wasn’t expecting you!”

“Apparently,” he drawled sardonically.

“You know him?” Rafe asked, his voice still far too low to be entirely human. “Yes,” Quinn assured him, deliberately holding his gaze longer than she needed to, trying to convey a hidden message. Rafe didn’t need to know that Drake was a vampire, but he did need to get out of here, now. She could hardly believe Drake’s restraint, coming to face-to-face with a ward of Summerfeld. The incredible self-control he must be exerting would not go without great personal sacrifice. He must be hurting.  Rafe regarded her steadily for a moment, then, with an imperceptible nod of her head, she gestured towards the living-room. Showing the natural respect the wards have for the Guardians, Rafe complied, throwing one last filthy look over his shoulder at Drake before he disappeared around the corner. Quinn slumped against the doorframe, her knees weak.

“It’s a good thing you’re the type of woman who keeps her head in a crisis,” Drake teased. Quinn wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

“What are you doing here?”

“I needed to speak to you. It seemed only logical to knock.” He seemed perfectly calm, but Quinn’s Guardian instinct was on high alert and she couldn’t even attempt to relax while he was in such close proximity to Rafe.

“Rafe, I’m just stepping out!” she called out in his general direction, moving out onto the porch and shutting the front door firmly behind her. Drake followed her down the porch steps and onto the neat front lawn, away from the lights of the house.

“Where is the male Guardian?” Drake asked. He could not sense Tristan anywhere inside the house.

“Not here,” Quinn replied curtly.

“Do you ever go anywhere without that thing?” he mused, and she followed his gaze downward, to her right boot.

“No,” she confirmed. “Never.” A Guardian without a stake wouldn’t be much of a Guardian.

“I’m leaving tonight,” Drake got straight to the point. “I’m going to see a coven I know not far from here. They may have information regarding your sister. I thought you might like to know.”

“I’m leaving too.” It suddenly occurred to Quinn that once she returned to Summerfeld, Drake would have no means of contacting her. If he did uncover any information about Avery’s murder, Quinn needed to know about it. “Let me give you my number.” She couldn’t think of any other way to stay in contact with him, but the thought of giving him her number – giving a vampire a means to contact a Guardian – filled her with apprehension. Drake pulled a black phone from the pocket of his jeans, a remarkably human gesture, and Quinn couldn’t hide a small smile, despite the fact that her stomach was tied up in knots.

“What is it?” he asked, and Quinn recited her number carefully. He punched it into his phone and then pocketed it again.

Quinn gnawed her lip, wondering how on earth she had gotten into this mess.

“What’s wrong?” he mused, sensing her distress.

“It’s just surreal. This is so messed up.”

“What is?”

“This!” she laughed hysterically. “You know, just a few weeks ago my life was perfectly ordinary. I was just another face in the crowd raising two children. Now, I’m trying to protect a werewolf outside of the City and I’m colluding with vampires. Vampires!” she snorted hysterically. “I’m a Guardian, for God’s sake!”

“That doesn’t define you,” he spoke, the words surprisingly candid. “And you’re colluding with one vampire... only one.”

“You know what I mean,” she countered.

“I know what you mean,” his teeth gleamed in the darkness as he smiled at her. “Oh, and Quinn,” he added, his green eyes boring into hers, “I doubt you could ever be just another face in the crowd.”

Quinn didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t even know if he was insulting her or meant it as a compliment, but he didn’t give her the opportunity to ask.

“I’ll be in touch,” he promised, and, with only a slight breeze marking his departure, he disappeared into the gloomy night.

Quinn stared at the place where he had stood for a long moment, praying she had done the right thing, when her phone rang abruptly in her pocket. The sudden noise, in stark contrast to the quiet stillness of the front garden, made her jump. Her first thought was that Drake was testing the number she had given him, but then she saw her father’s number on the screen.

“Yes?” she answered. Daniel must have given her number to the Guardians.

“Is Rafe still with you?” her father asked.

“Yes.”

“You need to get back to the City immediately. Bring him with you.”

“We’re leaving first thing in the morning.”

“Leave now,” he instructed and then, “Channon was attacked.”

“Oh God... is she okay? Who...”

“We’ll talk about it when you get here. Just hurry – and don’t tell Rafe anything, Isaiah wants to do it.”

“I can’t keep it from him!” Quinn protested loudly, and then, casting a quick glance over her shoulder at the house, she lowered her voice. “He needs to know.”

“His mother is dead, Quinn.”

“What?” Quinn couldn’t believe it. “What happened?”

“The new Alpha happened.” Her father’s grim tone suggested he was as affected as she was. Vivienne had been much loved and admired by all the Guardians. She had been a kind and surprisingly gentle soul for a wolf, and even without the blood allegiance they would have protected her.

“How is Raina?” Raina was Vivienne’s daughter, sired by Grayson, who had ousted Rafe’s father. While technically half-siblings, Rafe and Raina had no relationship to speak of, but the fact remained that they had both just lost their mother. Selfishly, considering the circumstances, Quinn wondered if this tragedy might serve as a catalyst to bring them together as a family.

“Not good,” Braddon admitted.

“I have to tell Rafe,” Quinn murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

“Let Isaiah deal with it. That’s an order.”

“You know you can’t really give me orders, right?” Quinn had surpassed her father’s skill years ago, and even if she hadn’t, no one Guardian has authority over any other. Daniel and Isaiah were obeyed out of respect, not custom, and big decisions were always put to a vote.

“Isaiah has asked you not to mention it.”

Knowing Isaiah would have good reason for asking, Quinn relented.

“We’ll be on the road in under an hour. I’ll see you in two days.” She snapped the phone shut and shoved it into her pocket.

Quinn couldn’t go inside, not yet. An image blossomed in her mind, of a younger Vivienne teaching her and Avery how to make pancakes. Vivienne had treated the girls with infinite kindness when they had first become Guardians, encouraging them to enjoy the simple pleasures of life despite the burdens they carried. She had gone a long way to filling the void that their mother’s death had left in their hearts. Quinn’s blood burned with the loss of one of Summerfeld’s most treasured members, as well as the agony of losing a dear friend. Unbidden, tears welled in her eyes and she sank to the ground, weeping.

Covering her face with her hands, she tried to pull herself together. She wasn’t entirely sure when she became aware of him, but slowly it dawned on her that she wasn’t alone. Raising her tear-streaked face, her eyes met Drake’s. He was standing only a few feet away regarding her intently.

“What do you want?” she croaked. He made no move towards her, but there was a softness in his glacial eyes that she hadn’t seen before.

“You lost a ward,” he stated simply, and Quinn wondered just how long he had been lurking in the shadows, and how much of her conversation he had overheard. Steeling herself, she got awkwardly to her feet.

“You must be thrilled,” she bit out, embarrassed and angry. “One less life to worry about.”

He moved so quickly that in the space it took her to blink he was standing before her.

“I take no pleasure in your pain, young Guardian. And your anger is misdirected. It was no vampire who killed your friend.” She heard the words, but she could not understand them. No vampire should care about her grief.

“No,” she admitted, “it was another of the wards.” Dragons, giants and even the wolves killed one another, but never had a wolf killed for any other reason than to challenge an existing Alpha, and the females were never attacked. The Fae and the werewolves were the most human, and therefore the most civilised of Summerfeld’s inhabitants, and they lived in harmony. Caleb, Quinn thought furiously. Caleb was new to the City and he was behaving worse than any animal. Killing in cold blood was unacceptable.

“I am sorry for your loss.” He noticed her eyes looked more violet than blue in the pale moonlight.

“Really? You really expect me to believe that you’re sorry that there is one less werewolf in the world.”

Drake sighed wearily.

“I don’t mourn the loss of my enemy. Does that make me a monster?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me this. Do you mourn the killing of one of my kind?”

That brought her up short. He had very cleverly turned the tables on her. The truth was she relished destroying the enemies of Summerfeld.

“That’s what I thought,” he mused, raising his brows knowingly. “The fact is we are on opposite sides of the same war. You cannot expect me to sympathise with your plight, when you yourself could never sympathise with mine. We are neither right, nor wrong – we are simply different.”

“Would you kill a ward if you had the opportunity?” Quinn asked, already knowing the answer. Drake surprised her by answering her question with one of his own.

“Would you kill a vampire, if you had the opportunity?”

“Point taken,” she sighed, rubbing at her temples.

“The thing is, despite who we are, and what we are sworn to do, I don’t have any desire to hurt you.” Quinn knew exactly how he felt. She didn’t want any harm to come to him either, which is why she had led the Guardians away from him in the first place. “I don’t think I could kill you,” he concluded quietly.

“Well, that’s comforting,” Quinn laughed, without mirth.

“Quinn?” Rafe’s voice called from the top of the porch and Quinn turned to see him peering around the front door. “You okay?” he asked and Quinn was grateful for the lack of light so that he would not see her tear-stained face.

“I’m fine,” she called softly. “I’ll be in in a sec. Change of plans, though... we’re heading back tonight. Get your stuff together.” Rafe looked about to question this new arrangement, but then seemed to think better of it and retreated back inside, pulling the door shut behind him.

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.”

“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 been 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,” Rowena 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.”

“Twelve Guardians await!” Rowena snapped. “What else is there to know? That is not going to change so I don’t understand why we are procrastinating.”

“That is not true,” Balthazar pointed out. “We have seen that the Guardians come and go. I want to track their movements – it may so happen that we can enter when there are only very few remaining.” Seeing her dark scowl, he continued more gently. “Rowena, we have waited a lifetime for this opportunity. What’s a few more weeks? Surely we should take the time to gather more information before we rush blindly in?”

“Fine,” she sighed, “but you better start thinking of something to tell the others before they simply move on without us.”

They sat in silence. Balthazar loathed the distance growing between them and he placed a hand on Rowena’s thigh. Dutifully she spread her legs, lifting her heavy skirt, but Balthazar pulled away in disgust. He hated it when she treated him like the others. Their relationship meant more to him than that.

By the time they returned to the camp, Balthazar’s mood had darkened considerably. Rowena and the other women had a local fair to attend, and, as he watched her truck lumber out of the clearing, laden with herbs and gypsy potions that would be sold to unsuspecting humans, he spat at the ground near his feet.

“Trouble in paradise?” Melchior observed drily, watching Balthazar as he stared after the departing truck.

“That woman will be the death of me," Balthazar replied.

“Perhaps I could teach her some manners for you,” Melchior grinned lasciviously. “You have spoilt her, brother. She should be reminded of her place.” It was not uncommon for the gypsy men to share their single women, but the thought of Melchior’s meaty hands on Rowena’s soft, pliant body filled Balthazar with rage.

“You will not lay a finger on her, Melchior,” he warned menacingly.

“She refuses to marry you,” Melchior reminded arrogantly, “you have no claim on her.”

“Well, unless she seeks out your services, I suggest you leave her be,” Balthazar spat back.

He cursed Rowena’s fiery nature. This, coupled with her refusal to marry him and thus place herself out of bounds for the other men in camp, only fuelled the other gypsies’ lust. Balthazar longed for her hand in marriage, not only so that she would belong to him completely, but also to protect her from the primal ways of their people. The gypsies lived harsh lives and they were a physical community. Drink also added fire to the flames, and, on more than one occasion, women had been hurt after a particularly festive bonfire.

The women themselves were wild and often asked for trouble – stripping down to their bare flesh and dancing suggestively. The competition for male attention was fierce, and some of the women had been known to physically attack the others, when vying for a particular male’s affections. Rowena had always steered clear of this custom – she was dedicated to Balthazar and Jonas and behaved accordingly, but she spoke out against the viciousness of the men when things got out of hand, and there was certainly more than one man in camp who longed to give her a good lashing.

Knowing the sun would not set for a few more hours; Balthazar followed the path the truck had taken only a few moments before. He had never been to a fair – it was the women’s job – but he wanted to see Rowena. Arriving at the fairground, he watched, unnoticed, as the gypsy women set up their wares, along with a small tent at the far back, which had a red sash tied to a post beside it, which he assumed was where the card-reading took place.

The gypsies’ apportioned plot was at the very edge of the fairground, a short distance away from everything else, to ensure that no young children visited their stall unattended. They made the most of their money at these fairs and they only wanted customers with long purse strings. He marvelled at how organised the women were – how they worked in unison, setting up tables and positioning everything on display. His heart leapt as he spotted Rowena, moving gracefully between the others, checking everything and offering words of encouragement. Her long black skirt swished around her ankles as she moved, her bare feet leaving indentations in the soft grass. He noticed that she had slipped a flower behind her ear and her lips were painted red. He had never seen her with make-up on – she always washed it off before she returned. Balthazar didn’t like the black, heavy charcoal surrounding her dark eyes. She looked incredibly beautiful, but he preferred her the way she looked first thing in the morning – before the sun had even risen – her hair a dark, tousled mess and her eyes still heavy with sleep.

Seeing Rowena calmed him more than anything, and, feeling better, he strolled around the market place, his curiosity piqued. The fairground was alive with colour, sound and scent. Balloons for the children, flea-bitten ponies that swished their tails lethargically as they waited for their next rider, and every conceivable art and craft lined the trestle tables. The smell of popcorn was heavy in the air and made Balthazar’s stomach rumble. He had not eaten anything since breakfast. Passing the vendor he bought two large boxes of popcorn and headed back towards the gypsies' allocated plot.

Mindful of the customers queuing before the tables, he moved around to the far end of the plot, approaching the tent. He could not see Rowena anywhere. The other women were preoccupied with the loud, demanding customers and Balthazar frowned as he glanced around. He checked the back of the truck but she was not there either. As he emerged, one of Rowena’s friends spotted him and gave a gasp of fright, dropping the small bottle she was holding. Her reaction sent a flash of alarm through Balthazar and he followed her gaze to the tent, only a few yards away. As he ran towards it, he prayed that Rowena was performing a card-reading, but the terror-stricken look on the young girl’s face made him doubt it.

As he got nearer, he heard the unmistakeable grunting that could only be male, and his chest constricted so badly he stumbled. Jerking back the tent flap his worst fears were confirmed. Rowena lay on her back, fully clothed save for her black skirt, which was lying in a crumpled heap at the tent entrance, staring up at the canvas ceiling. She looked almost bored, but her legs were wrapped tightly around the waist of a portly, balding man and she was bucking her hips erotically up against him, whispering dirty, suggestive words that Balthazar had never heard her utter before.

As her dark eyes swept towards his, Balthazar thought he might black out. Oblivious to the unexpected witness, the man on top of her gave an enormous groan of satisfaction into her neck and collapsed on top of her, groping for her breasts in the process. The glint of gold around his ring finger was too much for Balthazar, who finally regained control of his senses. Rowena was already trying to scramble out from underneath the now-limp man, but Balthazar was too quick for her. Grabbing him around the neck, Balthazar yanked him to his feet, the revolting squelching sound making him sick to the stomach.

“Balthazar, no!” Rowena yelled, over the man’s startled gasp of shock. Balthazar did not pay heed – drawing back his fist he let it fly, slamming into the man’s face with as much force as he could muster. Rowena cried again, reaching for him, but Balthazar pushed her away in revulsion, so hard that she hit her head on a small wooden chair that sat in the corner of the tent. Smashing his fist again and again into the man’s face, Balthazar could see nothing but an ugly red haze.

“Balthazar! That’s enough!” Rowena finally managed to get a good grip on his arm and despite feeling dizzy from hitting her head, she pulled him off the bloodied, beaten man. He was whimpering desolately, his pants still around his knees and Rowena averted her eyes as two of the other gypsy women entered the tent and helped him dress. Balthazar stood as still as a statue, staring at her as if she was a complete stranger, his entire body shaking. Only when the women had helped the stranger outside, did she speak again.

“He’ll go to the police. We need to get out of here, now.”

“He won’t go anywhere,” Balthazar barked, “He’s married, Rowena, or did you miss the ring on his finger while he was fucking you?” she flinched at the uncharacteristic vulgarity. “He’s hardly going to admit to his wife what he’s been up to,” Balthazar continued, his chest heaving.

This much was true, Rowena thought thankfully. With any luck the man would simply claim he had been robbed and beaten by an unidentifiable assailant.  She opened her mouth to speak but Balthazar beat her to it.

“How could you?” he asked desolately, his eyes wild with desperation. “How could you do this?”

“Balthazar, I...”

“You’re a whore,” he spat, not giving her a chance to explain. “A vile, filthy whore.”

“Where do you think the money comes from?” she retorted furiously, guilt making her even more acerbic, when all she wanted to do was grab hold of him and never let go. “In all your pig-headed ignorance, did you never stop to wonder how much this search has cost? Selling a few potions and doing a couple of card-readings was never, ever going to cover it!”

“So you resorted to this?” he roared. “My God, did you think I would ever agree to this?”

“No! Of course I didn’t! And that’s exactly why you never knew. Because if I didn’t do this your search would have ended long ago and you wouldn’t have been able to deal with that. I did what I had to do.”

“We would have found another way.”

“No, we wouldn’t have. And you would have been miserable and without purpose,” she sneered. “You live to find the City. I do what I do to ensure that we all live.” Balthazar was still shaking, incandescent with rage and Rowena’s cheeks were flushed, her dark eyes stormy.

“We’re done,” he snarled, snatching up her skirt and hurling it at her. “Don’t come near me, don’t even look at me.” Rowena glared at him defiantly, covering herself with the crumpled skirt. “From this moment on, you are dead to me,” he finished hatefully.

Only once she was certain he was gone did she collapse to the ground, her body wracked with sobs.

Chapter 41

“That’s bullshit, Isaiah, and you know it!” Quinn was fast losing her fragile grip on her temper. She couldn’t believe that Isaiah would allow Rafe back into the City when he so clearly had a death sentence over his head.

“Quinn!” Piper attempted once more to diffuse the escalating conflict.

“We made a mistake,” Isaiah repeated. “Rafe should never have been taken out. I am to blame for that and it is a decision I regret deeply. All I can do now is to try to repair the damage that I have done.”

“You tried to save him and you did! Rafe deserves our protection. He’s ten times the wolf Caleb could ever be.”

Rafe had won his pack's allegiance through physical prowess as well as social efforts and building alliances throughout the pack. He had been a popular and capable leader. Caleb struck Quinn as nothing but cruel and vicious – a power-hungry wolf who would rule through fear and intimidation.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Isaiah consented, “but we are protectors, not Gods. We don’t get to decide.”

“We could,” Quinn countered, the thought occurring to her. “We could exile Caleb – send him back to man’s realm. We brought him here; surely we are responsible for his actions? Why can’t we just send him back where he came from? We could reinstate Rafe and... ”

“We cannot send Caleb back,” Isaiah intoned. “Caleb is everything you say he is, but he is our responsibility, not just within the walls of the Ark, but for every action he commits outside of it, too.” That brought Quinn up short as she realised what he was implying.

“Goddammit!” she cursed, a feeling of helplessness washing over her.

“If Caleb is capable of such intolerable cruelty within the City’s boundaries, just imagine the bloodshed if we return him – angry and humiliated – back to man’s world. Any lives that he may take outside of Summerfeld will be on our hands.”

Quinn shook her head angrily.

“Then we kill him,” she announced suddenly. Piper gave a gasp of shocked disbelief, but Isaiah simply smiled in understanding.

“We cannot take the life of a ward, Quinn. No matter how deserving that ward may be,” he added sympathetically. Of course he was right. The very second the thought had occurred to her, Quinn had dismissed it. No Guardian could bring themselves to kill a ward. Their very blood refused it. “Unless of course you know of someone who might do it for us?” Isaiah jested. The very thought was ludicrous given that the Guardians were the only ones who knew of the City’s existence. Except of course, the vampires - any one of whom would be more than willing to murder a ward of Summerfeld but no Guardian would ever be on speaking terms with a vampire. No Guardian but Quinn.

The thought of Drake disappeared as quickly as it had come. Isaiah was right – this was Guardian business. And, as much as she despised him, Caleb was a werewolf, and werewolves belonged in the Lunar Grove.

“He has to be punished, at least,” Quinn persevered. “Surely he has to be taught that his actions are not without consequences. If not, what will stop him from slaughtering half the pack every time he doesn’t get his way?”

“Daniel will be back tomorrow and we will make a decision... together.” The mention of Daniel’s name reminded Quinn of why she was here in the first place.

“Isaiah, Avery’s crystal... ”

“I know,” he smiled. “You’ve figured out its location – Daniel sent word.”

“I have. Well, I think I have. And I want to negotiate... ” Isaiah silenced her with a wave of his hand.

“Let’s wait for the others, Quinn. We will discuss everything tomorrow at a full meeting of the council.” It was no less than she expected – Isaiah would not be able to accede to anything without the others anyway.

“Well, in that case, I’m going in,” Quinn fetched her trusty duffel from where she had dropped it near the far wall. “Will Rafe be okay?”

“For now. He’ll stay here with Channon until she’s fully recovered. But he will have to return to the City before the next full moon. They both will.” Quinn sighed. “You know Rafe is going to challenge him?”

“Yes,” Isaiah nodded sagely. “And I also know that he has no hope of winning.”

“So we’re just going to let him die.”

“We’re going to do what we should have done from the beginning. We’re going to let the wolves resolve this their own way.” Quinn bit down hard on her tongue to keep from passing a sarcastic, hateful comment.

“You coming, Piper?” she called, and, grateful for the inclusion, Piper got to her feet.

“One more thing,” Quinn turned back to Isaiah, “is Tristan...?” She let the question hang between them.
“Tristan is in Summerfeld,” Isaiah replied knowingly, a small smile playing about his lips. Inhaling deeply, Quinn met Piper’s gaze over the altar and, in unison, they closed their eyes and moved through the Gateway to enter the City.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Piper said, when they were finally alone; the fountain gurgling and splashing beside them. “You are back, aren’t you?” she added when Quinn didn’t respond.

“I think so. We’ll see what tomorrow brings. And I’m glad to be back too. I missed you. Really.”

“You had to do what you had to do,” Piper replied magnanimously.

They walked together through the small village, parting only when Quinn took a left turn towards her old quarters. Every Guardian had their own place in the town, interspersed amongst the Fae and Werewolf homes. It was, after all, the place they spent most of their time as Guardians, except for the Hunters, who were travelling more often than they were home.

Quinn made her way to Rourke’s old house – a house that would now belong to his successor – Tristan’s niece, Monique. Rapping on the door she heard a young voice call, “I’ll get it!” It was such an ordinary, human response that Quinn was still smiling when Monique yanked open the door.

“Quinn!” she cried excitedly, “you’re back!”

“I’m back,” Quinn grinned, “can I come in?”

“Sure,” Monique turned back into the house, her long red braid falling almost to her waist. “Mom!” she yelled unnecessarily, given that the entire house consisted of only four rooms – kitchen, living-room, bed and bath. Every Guardian had their own place and the small homes were intended for only one person. Monique and Camille must be sharing the tiny bedroom.

Camille emerged from the bathroom, drying her hands on a small cream towel that she must have brought with her – it looked far too synthetic to have been made in Summerfeld.

“Hello Quinn,” she spoke in a soft, shy voice that was in complete contrast to her daughter’s. “It’s good to see you again.” Quinn wondered if that was entirely true. The last time she had seen Camille, she had not been coping well with Monique’s induction into the Guardianship. Quinn was fairly certain that had it not been for her fear of the unknown, and the inexplicable white tattoo that had appeared on Monique’s wrist, Camille would have whisked Monique away the first opportunity she had.

“I actually wanted to speak to you about something,” Quinn ventured. “It has to do with Tristan. And my sister, Avery.”

“Oh,” Camille did not look at all surprised. “You’re here about the children.”

“You know?”

“Tristan told me,” she admitted. “And he asked me if I would care for them. He said that they would be sent away otherwise?” Camille was seeking confirmation and Quinn nodded quickly.

“Yes. There is no one else to care for them here. If you cannot take them they will have to stay outside, in man’s realm.”

“Man’s realm?” Camille frowned.

“The real world,” Monique explained, rolling her eyes at her mother’s ignorance.

“Oh, right. Yes, he mentioned that. Well, these are my brother’s children we are talking about, so I can’t very well say no.”

“But?” Quinn sensed it coming.

“Well, I have a few concerns. First, Monique is going through a lot right now,” understatement of the century, Quinn thought wryly, “and she needs me,” Camille continued. “Secondly, I fear that we may not be here for too much longer. I would hate to give the children a home only to have it wrested from them again.” This did not concern Quinn in the least. Monique would never leave Summerfeld so Camille would never leave either, but Quinn did not want to make light of her discomfort so she nodded sympathetically.

“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, surrounded 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.

Desperately craving the mindless physical exertion that would block out the thoughts running riot through her head, Quinn flicked the light switch. The Cathedral, though enchanted to make it undetectable to humans, was still technically within the realm of man, and as such, had power, run off generators under the ground. The Guardians had installed heating and lighting in the Cathedral building in the mid-1900s, but remained “off the grid” so to speak. Quinn still held out the hope that one day they might figure out how to extend the power supply into the City itself, but she doubted they would ever be able to transport a generator through the portal, and besides, with the amount of magic that permeated the City, it probably wouldn’t work even if they did.

Quinn stripped off her mauve sweater, revealing a tight black tank top underneath and dropped it on the floor near the door. Moving over to the shelf that housed the training stakes, she selected a heavy silver stake she had always favoured, the weight making its impact far more deadly. Moving along to the padded dummies, Quinn immediately launched into a series of lethal thrusts, the metal impaling the foam, leaving deep gouges wherever she struck. Eventually, dropping the stake, she practised kicking and punching, the automatic rebound of the dummy making it as life-like as possible.

Over and over she lunged toward it, taking out all of her frustration and energy. Her body gleamed with sweat and dark patches blossomed over the front and back of her top. Quinn ignored the burn that started in her muscles and slowly worked its way through her entire body. Her hands ached and two of her knuckles had split, but still she attacked, her sole frustration being that the dummy could not fight back.

Only when she neared the point of complete collapse did she finally stop, ending her session with one last kick to what would be the dummy’s abdomen. Gasping for breath, she tossed the stake back on the pile carelessly and turned towards the door.

“Impressive as always,” Isaiah spoke from the shadows near the door where he stood watching. “I see that you have not been idle in your absence, but then you have always taken your training more seriously than any other new Guardian,” Quinn knew that by ‘new’ he meant all the other Guardians except Daniel and himself. He held out her sweater as she approached and Quinn used it to mop the sweat from her face and neck.

“It’s been a rough day,” she replied sardonically, not in the mood for Isaiah’s preaching.

“Well then, I can only hope that tomorrow will be a better one.”

Quinn thought of Jack and Ava and the fact that there was hope she might see them both again soon, and her spirits lifted considerably.

“How is Channon?” she asked softly.

“Much better for Rafe being here. He gives her strength.”

“Not for long. The full moon is in less than a month. Caleb will attack him as soon as he turns. If you really intend to return Rafe to Summerfeld, his days are numbered.”

“We have no choice, Quinn,” he reminded her. “And besides, Rafe wants to go back. He knows that Caleb will continue to wreak his fury on innocent members of the pack until he returns.”

“I still think Caleb should be removed.”

“If only it were that simple, but, as I have told you, Caleb poses a greater threat outside the City than he does within its boundaries. We can at least exercise a modicum of control while he is here.”

“Tell that to Vivienne.”

“Vivienne’s death is proof that we need to send Rafe back. We cannot afford for any more innocents to fall.”

Quinn could understand the logic but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Isaiah seemed to sense that she did not want to talk about it any further, and he stepped aside, away from the doorway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Quinn murmured as she passed. Of all the Guardians, Isaiah was the one she most respected, and deep down she knew that he was simply the messenger. He did not want to see Rafe hurt any more than she did. He alone had gone to Channon’s rescue and stood against the Alpha in order to bring her back to safety. Isaiah was a brave and wise Guardian and Quinn had to accept that his proposal was in the best interests of everyone concerned.

“Quinn,” Isaiah called as she moved further down the corridor, “everything will work out, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

“I hope so,” she smiled sadly, and then continued on without looking back.

Chapter 44

Quinn woke early the next morning, dressing quickly and heading straight for the fountain. To her surprise, Tristan was already there, waiting for her.

“I wanted to see you before the meeting,” he admitted as soon as she reached him, “just to make sure that we’re okay.” Quinn searched his face and saw only concern and apprehension mirrored in his eyes.

“We’re okay,” she confirmed, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “We’ll figure it out.” He squeezed back, gently, relief coursing over him. “For now let’s focus on Jack and Ava. Together,” she added.

They crossed through the portal and the sound of activity reached them immediately. Daniel and the other Hunters were back. Blair had a bandage wrapped around her right shoulder and Garrett was sporting a spectacular black eye, but Daniel and Liam appeared unscathed. They were in the middle of a conversation with Isaiah and seemed not to have noticed her arrival.

“Bitten?” Isaiah exclaimed, turning to Liam, who subconsciously rubbed at his neck.

“We took care of it,” Daniel reassured quickly, and a relieved look replaced the concern on Isaiah’s face. Quinn released a deep sigh of relief herself. While a Guardian’s blood did nothing but strengthen a vampire, cloaking them until it had worked its way through their system, and the blood of the Slayer would kill them, a Hunter’s blood supposedly worked differently. If ingested, a blood-bond formed between the Hunter and the vampire who had bitten him or her.

The bond was extremely painful, allowing a telepathic linking of the two minds, which made it easier for the Hunter to track his attacker. The bond could be dangerous if the vampire survived, but the Hunters were hard targets, and, in the rare event that one was bitten, they worked together to destroy the vampire who had bitten their own.

“The bond may be a myth,” Daniel continued, “given that we have never actually seen proof of its existence.”

“You have never allowed a vampire to live once they have fed off a Hunter,” Isaiah pointed out, but Daniel didn’t reply. He had finally noticed Quinn. He opened his mouth to speak to her, but her father beat him to it.

“Quinn,” Braddon approached her directly, a stern expression on his face. “Daniel tells me you have located Avery’s crystal.”

“Braddon!” Daniel barked, drowning out Quinn’s answer, “There is much to discuss. Take a seat.” Quinn sent up a silent prayer of thanks for Daniel’s intervention. It irked her when her father treated her like a child. The Guardians were equal, in every respect, and Braddon being her biological father gave him absolutely no authority over Quinn. Daniel had just reminded Braddon of that fact and put him in his place.

Everyone took their seats; Avery’s place between Tristan and Quinn still glaringly empty. A scuffle at the altar drew everyone’s attention and they turned to see Camille arguing with Isaiah.

“I am sorry, Camille,” Isaiah apologised, “but the council meeting is for Guardians only. Monique is required to be here but you will have to return, or, if you prefer, you may wait outside.” Quinn admired Camille’s resolve. She must have grabbed hold of Isaiah as he came through the portal.

“She is only fifteen!” Camille retorted furiously. “She’s not an adult and I am her mother. I think I have a right to know what’s going on.”

Quinn got to her feet, taking a different approach.

“Camille,” she shepherded her away from the other.

“I have a right, Quinn. You have to tell them...”

“As a mother you have a right to know that your daughter is safe,” Quinn corrected gently, “but as a human, you have no right to witness Guardian business. As to the first point,” she continued quickly when Camille opened her mouth to protest, “I can give you my word that Monique is in no danger. There is nothing that will be discussed here today that has to do directly with her. It is about the children, Tristan’s children,” she added meaningfully. “And another issue that only has to do with my sister. Monique will not be exposed to anything untoward and I promise you that I will relay any information regarding her Guardianship to you.”

Camille eyed her daughter with a pained expression on her face. Monique was only fifteen but she had a maturity about her that had come along with the white tattoo adorning her wrist. The sense of responsibility that came with Eldon’s branding made new Guardians grow up quickly, becoming wise beyond their years. Isaiah was the perfect example. He was the wisest of them all, despite having been only eighteen when Eldon had chosen him as one of the original twelve.

“Camille,” Quinn pressed, holding the older woman’s gaze, “you have my word.” Camille lingered a while still, her face showing every emotion, every reservation and, above all, a deep-seated fear for Monique’s safety.

“Fine,” she relented eventually. “But I swear, Quinn, if anything happens to her... I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“Between you and me,”Quinn murmured, with a conviction that eased Camille’s fears, “we will keep all three of the children safe.”

A silent understanding passed between the two of them, Camille grasping the hidden message in Quinn’s words. She would not allow Monique to be placed in any danger, just as she had fought for her niece and nephew. Appeased, Camille nodded.

“I’ll take you back.”

Quinn took her hand and transported her through the Gateway. Her intention was to return straight away, but Camille held fast to her hand, gripping it tightly.

“Why can’t I do it myself?” she asked, her blue eyes so like Tristan’s it made Quinn’s heart hurt.“Go through it?” She gestured at the fountain.

“Because the fountain is not the Gateway,” she spoke without hesitation. Camille might not be privy to all the Guardian’s secrets but Quinn was determined to tell her as much as she possibly could. Camille was right about one thing – she had a right to know and Quinn trusted her. “And neither is the altar. The Cliffdale Cathedral is merely the location that Eldon selected and it is the only way that we can access the City, but it’s not the Gateway itself.”

“So, what is...?” Camille trailed off in confusion.

“We are,” Quinn replied simply, “the Guardians are the Gateway.”

King Eldon had worked his magic well when he had created the City. It was not enough to find the portal to Summerfeld – you needed a Guardian to take you through it. It was an ingenious charm, because no Guardian would ever allow an enemy of the wards through the Gateway. They would die first.

“I have to go,” Quinn smiled, and Camille finally released her hand. “I know that this is hard for you, but Monique will not survive without us. She is in danger out there, Camille. Now that she has been branded it’s not safe for her to return to your world. She has a target on her head and she needs to learn how to fight – how to defend herself.”

“She’s only a child!” Camille’s eyes welled with tears. “If she’s in that much danger how could you possibly let her out of the City, ever?”

“We will not let her out until she’s ready. Isaiah wouldn’t dream of it. He will prepare her. She will be more than capable of protecting herself.”

“Against the vampires?” she choked on the word.

“Yes,” Quinn replied grimly, “but she’s not a Hunter. That may not seem important, but it is. Ordinary Guardians like me and Monique rarely come into contact with vampires. And when we do, it’s the vampire who should be more afraid.”

“What about your sister?” she posed the question reluctantly, as though it were pulled from her lips against her will. Quinn stiffened; the memory of Avery’s attack never failed to arouse her angst, but she had known Camille would bring it up and she was prepared.

“My sister lived over a hundred years. Twenty-one as a human and almost a hundred as a Guardian. My father has survived three hundred years and Isaiah and Daniel a millennium. Longevity is the last thing you should be worrying about.”

This seemed to calm Camille, who breathed in a shaky breath and exhaled slowly.

“My fifteen-year-old daughter is going to be pitted against vampires,” she murmured, looking set to collapse at the mere thought.

“She’s been pitted against vampires her whole life,” Quinn pointed out wryly. “You both have... you just never knew it. They feed off humans, remember? At least now if Monique ever encounters one it won’t get the better of her.” She could sense that Camille had many more questions but it had been too long already and she needed to get back.

“We can talk more later,” she promised, “I’ll come by as soon as it’s over.”

“Okay,” Camille smiled and Quinn closed her eyes, muttering something incomprehensible under her breath. “Thank you,” Camille added, but she wasn’t sure Quinn heard her, as she vanished, leaving Camille standing in the cobbled courtyard, alone.

The Cathedral was absolutely silent when Quinn returned, and ten faces turned to face her expectantly as she took her seat once more.

“It’s all sorted,” she announced.

“Where is the crystal?” Typically, Daniel got straight to the point.

“Before I tell you that, I have a request.”

“Quinn,” her father’s low warning was so expected that Quinn fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“I made a mistake,” Quinn snapped, finally getting Daniel’s undivided attention.

Quinn had given it a lot of thought and she had reluctantly accepted that she might have been wrong. The idea of Kellan and Freya raising Jack and Ava would not have been the worst thing that could happen to the children and she would at least have been able to visit them frequently. Her actions however, had put paid to that, and now, with the impending arrival of the Faery couple’s child, it was no longer an option.

“I should have confided in you... all of you,” she added, with a meaningful look at Tristan. “But I didn’t. I was wrong. I realise that now. And I want to ask all of you to consider allowing the children to return to Summerfeld to be raised within the City. I know it’s not customary, but these are extreme circumstances.”

“That is true,” Isaiah spoke kindly, his eyes searching Quinn’s face. “But I am sorry, Quinn – Kellan and Freya are no longer in a position to... ”

“I know,” Quinn interrupted. “They can’t take them. I know. And I understand. But I wasn’t referring to Kellan and Freya.”

“You cannot raise them yourself,” Braddon interjected irascibly. “Even inside Summerfeld. Every Guardian has a duty to the wards. Including you.”

“Let me finish,” Quinn retorted coldly, before turning back to Daniel, who she knew would have the most influence over the others. “Camille,” she explained, “Camille will take them. She is their biological aunt, just as I am. She is also confined to the City for an indefinite period of time. And,” she added, playing her trump card, “it would give her something to take her mind off Monique’s initiation.”

An absolute silence followed this announcement. Out of the corner of her eye Quinn could see her father trying to formulate an argument despite the soundness of her proposal, and Tristan’s ill-hidden excitement, but she kept her gaze fixed on Daniel. Daniel was the only person who really needed convincing. His hard expression did not change as he mulled over her words and one by one every head at the table turned to look at him. When he finally spoke, Quinn knew the battle was won.

“You will retrieve Avery’s crystal?” he prompted, and Quinn nodded solemnly. “And we have your word that if the children are permitted to be raised here, in Summerfeld, that you will return to your full duties?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then so be it.” Quinn felt the tension drain from her body at his words.

“Thank you,” she nodded stiffly, trying not to betray the depth of her emotion. Beside her Tristan had no such qualms and he shot her a look of pure, unadulterated euphoria.

“Where is the crystal?” Daniel returned immediately to business. There was no point in hiding the crystal’s location – Daniel was a noble man and he would not go back on his word.

“It’s with them,” she replied. “It’s with Jack and Ava.” Tristan exhaled heavily beside her but Daniel simply nodded.

“They will be here by morning,” he promised.

Chapter 45

Quinn paced the length of the great hall, passing Tristan at every turn, their soft footfalls echoing through the vast arch of the Cathedral. Isaiah sat quietly at a table nearby, seemingly unaffected by their impatience. Daniel had sent for Lucas to bring back the twins, but the time was passing painfully slowly. When the sound of a car finally drew up outside, Quinn dashed for the doors, flinging them wide and scampering down the stone steps in her haste to see her niece and nephew, with Tristan right behind her.

Lucas was opening the back door when Quinn skidded to a halt beside the black SUV. Every fear that she had had that the twins might have forgotten her in the months that had passed since she last saw them was eradicated as Ava threw herself into Quinn’s arms. Quinn held on to her warm body, breathing in the sweet scent that she held so dear. She noticed with a pang of regret that Ava was taller and her rounded belly flatter. The twins were almost three and growing up too quickly.

Jack wailed at being left out and Quinn scooped him up in her other arm, showering them both with kisses. She could not stem the tears that pricked at her eyes, and when she met Tristan’s gaze over the twins' heads, she saw her tears reflected in his eyes.

Tentatively, Tristan stepped forward, wary of his reception.

“Look who’s here,” Quinn murmured, jostling the children so that they turned to look at him. Tristan held out his arms but the twins shied away, burying their faces in Quinn’s neck. Her heart broke for Tristan and the genuine disappointment on his face pained her.

“Give it time,” she murmured reassuringly, and then she dropped her head between the twins’, whispering endearments into their ears.

Terrified of being abandoned again, Jack and Ava refused to be set down and they clung frantically to Quinn, despite her best efforts to reassure them that she wasn’t going anywhere. By the time she re-entered the Cathedral, Daniel stood beside Isaiah.

“Not now,” she shook her head. “It’s with her,” she inclined her head at Ava, who was hoisted on her right hip. “It will traumatise her if I take it now.” Everyone’s eyes dropped to the pink bear clutched tightly in Ava’s hand and Isaiah smiled, deducing the crystal’s location and the problem it presented to simply wrest it from the terrified child’s grasp.

“Take your time,” he nodded sagely, and even Daniel’s hard features seemed to soften as he too nodded.

Quinn had the children close their eyes while she took them through the Gateway and into the City. Tristan stayed close, unable to tear himself away from his son and daughter, and Quinn was moved by the genuine love shining in his blue eyes. Tristan looked as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, one that he hadn’t even realised he had carried with him for so long.

“Remember the story about the unicorn?” Quinn asked, moving towards the cornflower field. Jack didn’t respond, but Ava lifted her head long enough to nod. The second she clapped eyes on Tristan, she tucked it straight back into Quinn’s shoulder.

After a moment’s thought, Quinn jerked her head back towards the fountain. Trusting her judgement, Tristan followed her cue and moved away, giving them some space. Slowly, Quinn lowered the twins to the ground, kneeling before them so that they only had to look at her face.

“Did you miss me?” she asked, and Jack and Ava nodded. “I missed you guys too. I’m sorry I left you, but I had to go away for a while.” There was no point in scaring them with the truth - that they had been taken from her without her consent. “Were the people looking after you nice to you?”

“No,” Ava announced promptly and Quinn’s spirits plummeted. “He made us eat peas.” Knowing how Ava loathed peas, Quinn suppressed a smile.

“Well, you don’t have to eat any more peas,” she promised solemnly. “Do you know who that man is?” she added, pointing back at Tristan now that they were not hiding themselves in her chest. Ava shook her head, but surprisingly, Jack stared for a long moment without answering. Tristan had visited the twins a few times while they lived with Quinn, but these fleeting visits had faded in the time between.

“That’s your daddy,” Quinn explained gently. Ava’s eyes widened, but Jack’s expression didn’t change. Quinn wondered if he remembered Tristan after all. “You want him to show you something awesome?”

“I want to stay with you,” Ava sounded panicked.

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m coming with you.” Quinn took them each by the hand and gestured to Tristan to follow.

The enormous field of flowers proved too much for the children and they finally broke free of Quinn, scampering around with shrieks of delight.

“I can’t believe they’re here.” Tristan’s voice was incredulous. “And it’s all thanks to you,” he added. Quinn didn’t pull away when he took her hand. The gesture was natural and the dry warmth of his hand felt natural and comforting.

They stood side by side, simply watching, for the longest time.

“I have an idea,” Quinn said eventually, releasing his hand. Her own felt empty.

“Jack! Ava!” she got the children’s attention and beckoned them over. “Your daddy has a surprise for you. Call them,” she added, and Tristan grinned. He let out a high, musical whistle and they all fell silent.

“What?” Ava chirruped, when nothing happened immediately.

“Shhh, watch,” Quinn dropped to her haunches and pointed to the trees nearest them. She had spotted the silvery sheen moving through the tree trunks.

When the two female unicorns emerged, Ava let out a veritable cry of uncontained glee.

“Horsey!” she yelled, bouncing up and down on the spot. Jack moved a little closer to Tristan who was nearest.

“They won’t hurt you, boy,” Tristan bent down and scooped Jack up, so that he could reach up and touch the mare’s nose as she approached.

“Wanna ride horsey!” Ava insisted.

“Daddy will help you,” Quinn offered, seizing the opportunity. The lure of the unicorns was too much for Ava, who promptly opened her chubby arms to Tristan, demanding to be picked up too.

“Give Beebee to Quinn,” Quinn said, “you can’t ride the horsey with Beebee.”

All too willingly, Ava thrust the soft bear at her and then turned her attention back to the dazzling white duo.

Quinn retreated, settling down on the grass and giving Tristan space to bond with his children. She squeezed the bear in her hands, from head to toe, and up and down the arms and legs, finally feeling something hard between her fingertips. She sized it up by touch and felt a flood of relief. She had been right. She had found Avery’s crystal. And yet, she did not feel the satisfaction she had thought she would. Instead, a sense of unease settled over her, as though her body was trying to warn her of something dark and foreboding coming. Shaking herself, Quinn dismissed it. Jack and Ava were safe and she was a Guardian again. Everything was exactly as it should be.

“In the heart of your own,” she whispered, casting her eyes heavenward. “But did you have to make it so damn difficult, Avery?”

End of Book 1...

Book 2: The Fight of The Fallen

Chapter 1

Quinn Harden watched her niece and nephew meeting their new foster mother with mixed emotions. She had raised the children herself, for two years, until they were taken from her by the very people she considered family; the Guardians of Summerfeld. When Jack and Ava were taken, Quinn, a Guardian herself, had spent months defying the other Guardians and trying desperately to get the children back. It was ironic that she was now letting them go to return to her duties.

Introducing Jack and Ava to their aunt, Camille, and their teenage cousin, Monique, who was also a Guardian, went even better than Quinn had expected. The new home that Camille had been assigned had three bedrooms and had previously belonged to a Fae family of four. The Fae children had grown up and the parents did not need the extra space. They were only too happy to offer up their home at the Guardians’ request.

Camille was the most natural mother Quinn had ever encountered. Her maternal instinct was especially strong towards Jack and Ava, being her brother’s children, but Quinn secretly suspected Camille would be just as accepting of any child in need. She was just made that way. Jack and Ava responded to her immediately, from the moment she squeezed them both in a bone-crushing bear hug.

“They’re so beautiful,” Camille repeated over and over, tears shining in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you,” she added, ruffling Tristan’s hair just as she had done to Jack a moment before. The children became alarmed when Quinn explained they would be staying with Camille, but they calmed down when she promised she would be just down the street and that she would visit often. Both Jack and Ava seemed almost too accepting of their fate, and Quinn felt an irrational surge of anger towards the Guardians who had shunted them around as if they were nothing more than possessions, but she swallowed it down. She might not like the way things were, but she had come to accept it, and worse, to understand why it had to be this way. The children were important, but nothing was more valuable than keeping the inhabitants of Summerfeld safe from the vampires who hunted them.

After feeding the children, including Monique, an ample lunch of fish, salad and fresh bread smothered in the Summerfeld equivalent of butter, Camille gave Quinn a secret look.

“Tristan, why don’t you and Monique take the kids out back and let them work off some energy,” Quinn murmured. Tristan was still hesitant, unsure how to fully connect with the children he barely knew, but he kept his outward composure and played his part well.

“I can take you down the road to see the dragon eggs?” he coaxed, when the children baulked at the idea of being parted from Quinn and Camille. Ava needed no further convincing, rushing forward to take his hand, and Jack followed her lead.

“What happened yesterday?’ Camille asked the second the door closed behind them. Quinn had not had a chance to speak to her alone after the meeting the previous morning.

“Nothing was discussed except for Jack and Ava’s return,” Quinn promised. “But I meant what I said. I promise I will tell you everything I can about anything concerning Monique.”

“Isaiah says I can’t watch her training sessions.”

“That’s understandable. Guardian training is intense – it’s not dangerous,” she added quickly when Camille looked aghast, “it’s just not something that a mother would want to witness. Monique will be perfectly safe with Isaiah – he cares very deeply for all of us.”

“What if I promise not to interfere? I can just watch. I won’t even open my mouth.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Quinn smiled. “The main reason you can’t be present at her training is that a lot of that time will be spent studying the Sacred Book.” Camille looked blank and Quinn clarified, “it contains our entire history – it was transcribed from the scrolls that King Eldon himself recorded. Only a Guardian is privy to those secrets.”

Camille mulled this over and Quinn was convinced that she would argue, but surprisingly, she changed the subject.

“I may have accepted this; for my daughter’s safety I will go along with it and allow her to remain here, even going through her training,” she said, as though it took all of her willpower to do so, “but Quinn, Monique is only fifteen. You said it yourself – training takes years. Monique may be infatuated with the City right now, but how long do you think she will be content to stay put?”

“I’m not sure I follow?”

“I know my daughter. Sure, she’s one of you now and you have a bond that I don’t understand, but I have raised her all her life, loved her all her life. Trust me – Monique will need human interaction. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I am doing something for you, I am raising Jack and Ava.” For the first time, Quinn saw just how far Camille would go to protect her child, to ensure her happiness. She would resort to blackmail. Quinn was not sure if it frightened or impressed her.

“So you want me to do something for you?” she guessed. Camille did not deny it.

“I want you to promise me that you will keep my daughter safe. If she ventures outside of the City limits, for any reason, I want your word that you will be with her – that you will protect her and make sure she comes to no harm. And,” she added, as Quinn started to explain that that would not present a problem, “I want you to take her outside the City if ever she asks. And me too, for that matter.” Camille had obviously thought long and hard about this, wavering between wanting Monique never to leave the City for fear of attack, and concern that living in a cage, no matter how beautiful, was not living at all.

“That’s impossible,” Quinn breathed. “I would be acting against the Guardians.”

“The Guardians will not control my child,” Camille snapped, “I am her mother. And she deserves more than this – more than a life confined to a small village with no-one else her age to talk to, no friends. She deserves to have at least a few forays into the world that was her home for fifteen years. To interact with humans, well, ordinary humans,” she added graciously. “She is only fifteen,” she stressed again, pleadingly, and they both fell silent.

Quinn could so easily understand Camille’s concerns. She had grown up in Summerfeld after her mother’s death and had longed for the moment she could leave and explore the world. She had envied others, ordinary people who spent their lives without the heavy burden of the Guardianship that was both a blessing and a curse. Monique would, of course, visit man's realm frequently when her training was completed, but she would never experience it through the eyes of an ordinary teenage girl. And what Camille was asking was not too much – just a few trips into town, possibly a movie or a visit to a diner. Quinn could very easily keep her safe, especially if she took Monique out during the day. It was hardly as though a coven of vampires would be waiting to ambush them in broad daylight.

Camille’s expression was guarded, but Quinn could see, too, the desperate need for herself – for the opportunity to visit the place that she would always call home. Camille wanted this for herself, as much as for Monique. Essentially, her daughter’s fate had made her a prisoner of the City, and, as willing as she was to endure it for Monique’s sake, Camille needed to know that she would see her own kind again.

Sighing, Quinn stretched over and placed her hand on top of Camille’s.

“Okay,” she relented. She owed it to the woman who was dedicating her life to caring for Jack and Ava. It was the least she could do. “I promise. But I am going to have to speak to Isaiah.”

“No!”

“Camille, Isaiah hasn’t left the Cathedral for five hundred years. There is no way I can sneak you or Monique out without him seeing us.” Camille bit down on her bottom lip, but she could see the logic in Quinn’s reasoning.

“All right,” she agreed, “but you had better convince him.”

“I will,” Quinn feigned a confidence she didn’t feel. “But in the meantime, I need you to help me with one more thing. You don’t by any chance have a needle and thread, do you?” she asked, picking up Beebee, the soft teddy bear with the floppy hat which Ava had left on the floor beside the table.

In the end it was Freya who provided the needle and thread. With deft hands she expertly removed one of the stuffed bear’s arms and wordlessly handed both pieces to Quinn, averting her eyes as she did so. It never ceased to amaze Quinn how respectful the Fae were of Guardian business. Camille, on the other hand, showed no such restraint. She peered curiously over Quinn’s shoulder as she inserted her hand into the plush toy, groping around carefully until her finger brushed the rock-hard surface. Pinching the crystal between her first and second fingers, she slowly withdrew it.

“Here,” she passed the bear back to Freya, who immediately set about repairing the damage.

Quinn gazed down at the crystal with mixed emotions. Avery’s crystal was as beautiful as Avery herself had been. A stunning aquamarine, it was smaller than Quinn’s amber crystal, only slightly bigger than a quail’s egg. Unlike Quinn’s own crystal, it did not feel warm in her grasp, probably because it did not belong to her.

Quinn remembered the day that she and Avery had found their crystals, the gems calling to them, as they had to their predecessors. When a new Guardian was branded, they instinctively knew where to locate their crystals – it was yet another inexplicable part of Eldon’s magic. Quinn had retrieved hers first, in an abandoned building not far from its previous owner’s family home, but Avery’s crystal had been hidden deep in a forest over three hundred miles from the place where her predecessor had fallen to the vampires. Quinn had followed Avery through the trees, the dry autumn leaves crunching underfoot. Avery had smiled as she slipped her hand inside a small circular hollow in an Elm tree, withdrawing the aquamarine stone.

“It’s prettier than yours,” she had teased, turning it over in her hand in reverent wonder. Quinn’s own amber crystal had weighed heavily in her pocket, a symbol of the life she was leaving behind. “Where are you going to hide yours?” Avery continued.

“I can’t tell you that!” Quinn scolded. It didn’t matter that they were sisters – twins even – every Guardian had a duty to protect the location of his or her crystal. It was known only to the Guardian to whom it belonged.

They had gone their separate ways then, stowing their crystals in private, but had reconvened in Summerfeld a week later to begin their Guardian training. Quinn never did discover the first hiding place that Avery had chosen, but she had obviously moved it around, even wearing it around her neck at times when they were alone – although Quinn was fairly certain the Guardians would have had something to say about that had they known - and then she had, at some point, hidden it inside the soft toy that her daughter cherished.

Why Avery had even left a clue, Quinn could not understand. She didn’t know if Avery had written the note years before, or if she had scrawled it hurriedly when she realised she would not survive her attack. If it had been the latter, did Avery know something – realise that no new Guardian would come for it? Her crystal should, by all accounts, have been found by her replacement – but no replacement had ever come forward. It was as if Avery had known. Was her note simply a safeguard in case the crystal was not retrieved, or was it an omen that something was changing within the Guardianship?

“Quinn?” Freya’s voice pulled Quinn from her own thoughts and she glanced up to find Camille and Freya regarding her with mutual concern. “Is this all right?” Freya asked gently, passing Beebee over. The Faery’s needlework was impressive - there was no sign at all that the bear had undergone any “surgery”.

“It’s perfect,” Quinn smiled, stowing the crystal in the pocket of her black pants.

Invariably the twins cried when Quinn and Tristan left, clinging to Quinn's legs like barnacles. They were, after all, not yet three, and despite her best efforts to explain things, they didn’t understand.

“Just go,” Camille ordered calmly. “They’ll settle down after you leave.”

“You’re sure?” Quinn wavered.

“Monique was exactly the same – her first two weeks at kindergarten it took three teachers to pull her off me,” she smiled, lifting Ava in one practised movement and gesturing to Monique to follow suit with Jack. “They are very young, Quinn, they will adjust far more quickly than you think,” she added, compassion shining in her kind eyes. If it were anyone but Camille, Quinn would never have been able to leave, but leave she did.

She stopped only once they had turned the corner at the end of the cobbled street, coming to a halt and letting the tears flow.

“Quinn?” Tristan stepped forward, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she sniffed, visibly pulling herself together.

“They’re here,” he said, placing an arm around her shoulder, offering his support. “You did it. They’re safe now.”

“They are,” she smiled sadly, “but at what cost?”

Tristan didn’t have any words to comfort her, so instead he pulled her against him, his chin resting on the top of her head. Quinn let herself relax into his embrace, allowing his gentle stroking of her back to soothe her. She did not know how she felt about him or how far she was willing to go to find out. Tristan had admitted things to her that she could scarcely believe possible. Whether he loved her or not, Quinn couldn’t be sure, but he had confessed that he might have made a mistake choosing Avery. A part of her wished that they could just pick up where they had left off, but a larger part of her knew that that was simply not possible. Or was it? She had certainly felt no guilt being in his arms – it had only seemed natural and right.

Tristan’s lips brushed against her temple and Quinn stepped out of his arms, not trusting herself to be so near to him when her defences were this low.

“I better get this crystal to the others,” she said, as a way to explain her sudden withdrawal.

“You got it?” Tristan’s eyes widened incredulously.

“I got it,” she beamed, pulling it from her pocket. Tristan’s eyes were drawn to the pale blue crystal like a moth to a flame.

“It’s so beautiful,” he murmured, surprising Quinn.

“You’ve never seen it?”

“No,” he shook his head. Quinn suspected that Avery had stopped wearing it. The last time she had seen it around Avery’s neck was when the photograph had been snapped at the bed and breakfast, all those years ago. When they had returned to Summerfeld to discover one of their friends had been killed, the guilt had plagued them. Avery had taken a long-term assignment, and Quinn had remained behind to train the replacement Guardian. The man who stood before her now.

“It’s the colour of your eyes, you know,” Quinn murmured. Tristan didn’t respond, his eyes still fixed on the gem in her hand. “You want to come with me?” she asked, returning it to her pocket.

He nodded.

Chapter 2

Most of the Guardians were milling around the Cathedral, save for Piper, who Quinn assumed was still inside the City, mourning the loss of Vivienne, the old Omega female werewolf. Piper was the closest Guardian friend Quinn had; a kind, compassionate soul who felt things very deeply. Quinn was still seething over the decision to send Rafe and Channon, two wolves who had been cast out of the pack, back inside the City, where certain death awaited. Quinn couldn’t worry about that right now, though. She had come to deliver Avery’s crystal into safe hands. This had been the trade she had bargained with; Avery’s lost crystal in return for the twins being allowed to stay within the City. Glancing around for Daniel, Quinn noticed her father was also absent, and was surprised to learn he was visiting with Rafe and Channon. Quinn had never had an easy relationship with Braddon – Avery had gotten along with him far better than she had. Avery had claimed that their turbulent relationship was due to the fact that they were too alike, which irked Quinn, who didn’t like being compared to someone she could barely tolerate.

“Daniel,” Quinn made her way straight to where Daniel sat at a table with Blair beside him. “A deal’s a deal,” Quinn said, dropping the crystal into his open palm.

“Not so fast, Quinn,” Daniel’s deep voice boomed as she turned to leave.

“What now?” she sighed. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Isaiah standing close by, his arms crossed over his chest, a thoughtful expression on his wise face.

“You have fulfilled your end of the bargain,” Daniel began, “I am sure I don’t need to remind you how valuable this crystal is.”

“You don’t,” Quinn agreed. The twelve crystals were the single most important relics of the entire Guardianship. Without them, the Rose Gate could not be opened and the Temple housing Eldon’s heirs, and the powerful magic of the Fae, would remain sealed for all eternity. The crystals were Summerfeld’s last defence against attack.

“You found your sister’s crystal,” Daniel continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “I believe there’s a reason for that. It is yours to possess until its new owner lays claim to it.”

“The new owner who hasn’t emerged in over two years?” Quinn quipped, shaking her head. She had half-expected this, but she did not want to bear this responsibility. If anything were to happen to Avery’s crystal, she didn’t want to be the one held responsible. “Surely you are better equipped to protect it, Daniel? Or you, Isaiah?” she inclined her head at him.

“No,” Isaiah stepped forward, out of the shadows. “Daniel is right. You alone knew where it was hidden. I don’t think that should change.”

“Then why did you have me find it?” Quinn asked irritably. “Why didn’t you just let me leave it where it was?”

“We had to be sure,” Daniel answered, an edge to his voice.

“You thought I would lie? That I would pretend to know where it was?” Her voice rose indignantly.

“I thought you would do just about anything to find your sister’s children,” Daniel retorted, “even if it meant lying to the rest of us, yes.”

“Point taken,” Quinn grumbled. She could hardly deny it.

“Make sure you hide it well, Quinn,” Isaiah smiled.

A commotion at the altar distracted them all and they turned to find Piper, red-faced and flustered, gasping for breath, still holding onto Kellan’s hand. The Fae never left the City, and a gasp of shock ran through the Guardians. Quinn, however, suspected there was only one reason Kellan would come through the portal. Freya must be in labour!

“Quinn!” Kellan’s worried face creased into a relieved, euphoric smile. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“It’s time?” Quinn asked, already moving forward.

“It’s time,” he confirmed.

“Quinn!” She turned towards Daniel’s voice and instinctively caught the crystal as he tossed it over to her. He said nothing more – the wards came first and if Kellan needed Quinn then everything else would have to wait.

They raced towards Kellan’s house, Quinn arriving first and then hesitating at the front door. Hopping from foot to foot, she urged Kellan to hurry, not wanting to enter their home unannounced.

“She’s here!” Kellan called through towards the bedroom as he opened the front door and Quinn tumbled inside. “Go on,” he nodded, “she’s waiting for you.” Quinn dashed through the living-room into Freya’s bedroom, skidding to a halt just inside the door.

Two Fae women were already in the room with Freya, assisting with the delivery. One sat at her bedside, wiping her forehead with a cool, damp cloth, and the other sat at the base of the bed, between Freya’s widespread legs. Averting her eyes, Quinn skirted the edge of the room to come and sit on Freya’s other side.

“Here,” the Fae woman, who Quinn recognised as Anaise – one of the Faery healers, handed her the cloth and then obediently stepped back to allow Kellan to sit beside his wife.

“How are you feeling?” Quinn asked, as she wiped Freya’s damp hair off her face. There were dark circles under Freya’s eyes and she had the dull, glazed look of someone in extreme pain.

“I’ll be okay,” Freya replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. Quinn took hold of her hand and squeezed it, wishing she could take the pain away. Kellan, holding onto Freya’s other hand so tightly that it was going slightly blue, looked as though he was about to be sick.

“It’s time,” Anaise called, from the edge of the bed. She stood beside the midwife, who looked up and nodded.

“You ready to push, Freya?” she asked. Freya nodded with a grim determination.

Quinn had never witnessed childbirth before. She had been away on a mission when Jack and Ava had been born. They had been born a few weeks prematurely and Quinn had been at once devastated to miss their birth, and relieved that she had not had to witness such an intimate moment between Avery and Tristan. Now she kept her eyes on Freya’s face. It was beautiful, even contorted in agony as it was now, and Quinn whispered words of encouragement, a surge of fierce pride for her friend and honour that she had been asked to be present flowing through her.

A few seconds later a tiny cry echoed around the room and Quinn could not restrain herself any longer. The tiny baby being thrust into Kellan’s arms was perfect in every way. Slightly blue, and more wrinkled than Quinn had expected, the child’s delicate features were unmistakeably Fae-like, down to the slight point at the top of the still-folded ears.

“Oh Freya,” Quinn smiled down at the exhausted new mother, tears pricking at her eyelids.

“It’s a girl,” Kellan declared, beaming with pride.

“Sage,” Freya spoke knowingly, as if they had already discussed it. Gently, Kellan passed the still-screaming baby into Freya’s arms and she immediately pushed down the light sheet covering her upper body. The baby latched onto her breast and the wailing stopped instantly, replaced by the soft sounds of suckling. Freya pulled the sheet back, covering herself up so that only the crown of white-blonde hair was visible.

“It’s a beautiful name,” Quinn approved. “A beautiful name, for a beautiful child.”

“Thank you,” Freya smiled, sighing. She blinked and her eyes closed for a long moment before she opened them again.

“You need to rest,” Quinn smiled. The sound of Sage’s suckling had stopped too. “And so does she, apparently. I’ll go.”

“Wait,” Freya took a small cream blanket from Kellan and wrapped the sleeping child tightly. “You have to hold her first.”

Quinn cradled Sage for over an hour, not even realising how much time had passed. She didn’t notice the steady darkening of the windows or that Kellan had lit the lamps. She didn’t hear Anaise and the other healer leave, and she didn’t even drink the cup of sweet tea that Kellan had placed in front of her. Only when someone stood right before her, shadowing the light so that she could barely make out Sage’s face, did she finally look up.

“It suits you,” Tristan smiled down at her. Quinn blinked shyly as he dropped to his haunches before her, moving the blanket down below Sage’s tiny chin so he could see her properly. Quinn noticed the same look in his eyes that she had seen when she had first looked upon him as a father after returning from her mission and paying her first visit to Avery and the twins in hospital.

“She’s gorgeous,” Tristan murmured, stroking Sage’s cheek. The child stirred, heaved an enormous baby sigh, and started moving her lips in a sucking motion.

“She’s dreaming,” Kellan mused, coming to stand beside them and gazing down at his child lovingly.

“I think her mother is probably desperate to see her,” Quinn mused, “I’ve been selfish. Sorry,” she added, grinning apologetically.

“No need to be,” Kellan soothed. “We want you to be a big part of her life, that’s why we asked you here.” Tristan moved aside so that Quinn could hand Sage back to Kellan. She followed him through to the bedroom where Freya was also waking.

“I’ve taken up enough of your precious time,” Quinn told her. “I’m going to be heading out... I’ll be gone a few days.”

“You’re going to hide Avery’s crystal?” Freya murmured huskily.

“Yes,” Quinn nodded. Freya had seen the crystal and she was incredibly perceptive.

“Come and see us when you get back.”

“You just try and keep me away from that little one,” Quinn smiled, stroking Sage’s hair one last time. “And thank you,” she added, trying to instil as much meaning into those two little words as possible. “Thank you for allowing me to share this with you. It means more than I could ever say.”

Tristan said his own goodbye and then Kellan walked them both to the door. Standing outside in the dark street after being snug and cosy with Sage on the sofa for so long, Quinn shivered.

“Here,” Tristan pulled off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. It smelt of him – a combination of soap and the scent that he had worn since they had first met.

Quinn could barely make out his face, cast in shadow as it was, but his nearness affected her nonetheless. He stared down at her, his eyes hooded, and then he stretched out both arms and took hold of the lapels of his coat, drawing her slowly forward. His eyes never left her face and Quinn allowed herself to be drawn in, getting closer and closer, until he simply dropped his head and kissed her. Like a match to kindling, the feel of his lips was all it took. Passion ignited in Quinn, flaring up faster than she had believed possible.

It took all of her resolve not to reach for him, but she kept her arms pinned at her sides, opening her mouth instead to allow him more access. Tristan groaned at the invitation and his tongue slipped between her teeth, more determined than before, when he had kissed her at the house. The kiss deepened and Quinn gasped against his mouth, needing to breathe, but enjoying the headiness that being consumed by him ignited.

When he pulled back, Quinn stepped forward desperately. She could not resist him, not when they had crossed the line between thought and touch. Tristan’s hands moved up the lapels of the coat, skimming her skin beneath it, and pressed against her shoulders, restraining her. His eyes glittered as he gazed upon her and slowly, Quinn’s breathing came under control and her thoughts cleared. Only when they had both returned to normal, did Tristan speak.

“You better get some rest. You have a long day tomorrow.” Cocking his head to the side, he seemed to come to a decision. “I’m coming with you,” he announced.

“No,” Quinn shook her head, crestfallen. “You can’t.” It was true for two reasons. One, Tristan could not know where she hid Avery’s crystal. And second, Quinn did not trust herself around him, especially after what had just happened. She needed time to think, space to figure things out. The last thing she wanted was to do something that she would regret.

“I don’t think I can let you go,” Tristan murmured painfully. “If something were to happen to you...” he trailed off, the fierceness in his voice impossible to miss. Quinn was moved by his concern – by the fact that he was so obviously terrified for her safety.

“Tristan,” she squeezed his arm. “I’ve been a Guardian a lot longer than you, remember? I can take care of myself.” She realised the error of her words the second they were out, but it was too late to take them back. Avery had been a Guardian a long time, too, but that hadn’t stopped her succumbing to the vampires who had murdered her. “I’ll be back soon,” Quinn promised. “Here,” she started to shrug out of his coat, but he stopped her.

“Keep it,” he smiled sadly. “It has deep pockets, perfect for carrying stakes. Load them up and come back to me in one piece.”

Chapter 3

The following morning Quinn went to see Jack and Ava before setting out for Brookfield. She would be gone a while and she explained it to them as best she could, promising that she would be back soon. The children were delighted to see her, showing her their new bedroom and where the swing-set Tristan had promised to build would be going in the yard. Saying goodbye was hard, but Quinn could see light at the end of the tunnel. Jack and Ava would be happy here with Camille. It would take time, but it was a happy home and Camille so obviously adored them that it was impossible for them not to respond. When they had been with Quinn she had always feared that the Guardians might come for them, and she had never been able to relax completely. Camille, on the other hand, had nothing to worry about, save for all three children’s safety, which was exactly as it should be.

With her bag slung over her shoulder she entered the Cathedral determined to speak with Isaiah before leaving. She had made Camille a promise that she would take Monique back to the realm of man from time to time, a promise she could not fulfil without Isaiah’s consent. True to his nature, Isaiah listened, letting her explain about her conversation with Camille and the reasoning behind it.

“I’d like your blessing... and your help,” she finished.

“You have it,” he replied easily. Quinn had already started to protest before his words sank in.

“I have it?” she asked incredulously. “Just like that?”

“Quinn, I have told you before – I think that you have a purpose – one that is greater than all of us. If you believe this is the right thing to do, then how can I disagree?”

“But... it’s dangerous!” Quinn had half-hoped that Isaiah would disagree and refuse to let her carry out this foolishness which would let her off the hook. Instead, he was offering not only his approval, but his assistance.

“No more dangerous than the fifteen trouble-free years Monique has spent out there,” he pointed out logically. “I ask only that you limit her visits to daylight hours, for obvious reasons.” And therein lay the key, Quinn thought. There was absolutely no possibility that they would be attacked during the day. Monique would be in no danger while the vampires were confined indoors.

“What if we walk into a coven’s hideout?”

Isaiah laughed at that.

“Are you trying to get me to forbid Monique to leave?” he asked wryly. A Guardian could sense vampires – it was impossible that they would step into a lair without knowing about it.

“No,” she shook her head. This was the truth – she still believed that Monique had a right to visit her homeland – she had just so honestly expected Isaiah to say no, that she had already tried to convince herself otherwise. “I’m just surprised.”

“I would ask that you keep this between us,” he cautioned. “The others may not think it’s a good idea.”

“Of course,” Quinn nodded. “Thank you.”

She left then, setting out for Brookfield wearing Tristan’s coat over her black jeans and T-shirt. He had been right – the coat did have deep pockets and Quinn had slipped a stake into each one. Tristan’s fear had made her nervous, more so than she had ever felt before, and she hoped that it wasn’t a bad omen. She had thought it through and, as foolish as it might seem, she was determined to hide Avery’s crystal with her own. If she were to be responsible for them both they might as well stay together. She was also itching to check on her own crystal – to see whether Drake had taken advantage of her absence to break into her house, and, if so, to find out if he had discovered the hidden room. She sensed that her crystal was still in the same place, but that didn’t mean that it was exactly where she had left it. If Drake had it, it could still be in Brookfield, close enough to her initial hiding-place that she didn’t sense anything different.

No-one followed her. The Guardians would never deign to now that she had returned to the fold. They all respected the rules – that the crystal’s location should be known to only one Guardian. It was nice not to have to worry about being followed for a change. She was back, one of them again, and she did not have to keep looking over her shoulder.

Quinn pulled out her phone and plugged it into the car-charger as soon as she was out of the Cathedral’s range. It wasn’t long before a soft ping signalled that she had a message. Lifting the phone to her ear she dialled her voicemail.

“Quinn,” Drake’s hypnotic recorded voice said, “we need to talk. Call me.” It was a two-day drive to Brookfield, so she dialled the number.

“Quinn,” his voice sounded identical to the message she had just listened to. “Where are you?”

“I’m actually heading back,” Quinn replied. “I’ll be there in a couple of days.”

“We can talk then,” he intoned, cutting the call. Quinn stared at the handset before punching the redial button.

“Quinn?” he sounded slightly more animated, almost concerned.

“You know it’s rude to hang up on someone, right?” There was silence on the other end of the line. “I’m just saying,” Quinn continued, “you could at least say goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Quinn,” he said bluntly, but Quinn could have sworn she heard his deep chuckle before the line went dead once more.

Arriving home around mid-morning a few days later, Quinn was relieved to find that nothing looked disturbed. The secret room was untouched and her crystal sat innocently on the shelf exactly where she had left it. She placed the aquamarine beside it without looking at it. Every time she saw Avery’s crystal it reminded her painfully of her sister. Locking the room behind her she went upstairs to take a much-needed shower. With the crystal hidden there was not much else to do, but Quinn was loath to leave Brookfield so soon. Sarah would be home from work soon and Quinn still needed to talk to Drake. She could stay a few days, she thought selfishly. She would be back before the full moon to ensure that Rafe didn’t do anything stupid.

The second she heard Sarah’s car, Quinn went across to visit her. Sarah was overjoyed to see her and the two women spent a happy afternoon catching up. Sarah, of course, wanted to know all about Quinn’s trip, and Quinn felt guilty as she fabricated stories and events that had never happened.

“I’m going to be doing a lot of travelling,” she admitted eventually. “I won’t be around here much.”

“Are you going to sell the house?” Sarah looked horrified at the mere thought.

“No,” Quinn set her mug on the table. “I’m going to keep it. I’ll be back, from time to time, and it’s a good investment.”

“Good. Then, when you get tired of travelling you can come back permanently.”

“Deal,” Quinn quipped.

As night fell Quinn headed over to Phil’s. She didn’t really want to go to Drake’s house and risk a run-in with Genevieve and she figured that he would track her down here.

“Quinn!” Phil called from behind the bar. “You’re back!”
“For now,” she grinned, and then, seeing the crowd gathering around the bar, “can I get a beer?”

“Sure,” he nodded. Quinn took a seat at a table in the corner and a moment later the waitress set a beer down in front of her.

“I’ll have a scotch,” a deep voice drawled as Drake took a seat opposite her. “Hello, Quinn. How are you this fine evening?” he asked, with exaggerated good manners.

“I’m very well, thank you,” she replied, playing along. “How are you?” Drake smiled teasingly.

“Never been better. How was your trip?”

“Long,” she sighed, dropping the act and taking a swig of beer. The waitress arrived with his scotch and they fell silent until she was out of earshot. “But productive... I found my niece and nephew.”

“Well, that’s a cause for celebration!” he raised his glass to her.

“You wanted to speak to me?” Quinn pressed, setting her bottle back on the table.

“Yes. I wanted to know what’s going on with you and the male Guardian.”

“What?” His question was so unexpected that Quinn thought she had misheard him.

“The Guardian... Tristan, I believe his name was,” Drake continued calmly. “Are you and he in some sort of relationship?”

“What... how do you even know about Tristan?”

“Answer the question,” he insisted, and Quinn was sure that it was so ingrained in him to do so that he was injecting a certain amount of persuasion into his words.

“You know that doesn’t work on me,” she grumbled, her head still reeling. “And anyway, it’s none of your business.”

“I’m just asking.”

“Why?”

“Call it idle curiosity.”

“How is Genevieve doing?” Quinn smiled sweetly, turning the tables on him.

“Genevieve is well,” he replied easily, calling her bluff. “I have no problem talking about her. Now, will you answer my question?”

“No.”

Drake sighed dramatically.

“Very well. How long will you be staying in Brookfield?”

“A few days, probably. I want to spend some time with Sarah and Todd and...” she trailed off, realising what she had been about to say.

“And?” he arched a dark brow.

“And nothing.”

Quinn was stunned. She had been about to say ‘you’, although for the life of her she couldn’t understand why. Drake had been flitting around in her thoughts for days, an itch that she couldn’t scratch, but she would be lying if she said that she hadn’t looked forward to seeing him again. Not that she would admit it to him. Fortunately Drake let it go.

“I’ve been doing some investigating. No-one that I have spoken to knows anything about your sister’s death.”

“Well then you’re not speaking to the right people,” Quinn insisted, hope flaring in her chest. Drake was actually keeping his word – investigating Avery’s murder. Quinn might have a chance to avenge her sister.

“We’re being overhead,” Drake said suddenly, his voice much lower than before. Quinn froze, using every ounce of her willpower not to look around. “Let’s go.” Drake stood in one swift, graceful movement and offered her his hand. Flustered, Quinn took it, his skin surprisingly warm and let him lead her out of the tavern.

It was only when they had walked half a mile that she stopped, turning to fix him with a questioning gaze.

“You don’t understand,” he murmured, continuing their conversation as if they had not been interrupted. “Killing a Guardian... it’s not something that would be kept a secret. Many of my people... well, let’s just say this kind of news travels fast.” Quinn pressed her lips together to keep from biting out a scathing retort. “The point is that no-one seems to know anything. That’s just not possible.”

“What are you saying?” Quinn asked, disappointment weighing heavily upon her.

“How sure are you that your sister was murdered by vampires?” he asked bluntly, his emerald green eyes boring into hers.

“I’m... one hundred percent sure,” she stammered. “Why would you ask that?” He seemed to hesitate, as though not sure whether to continue.

“I have my reasons,” he said eventually and Quinn grabbed his sleeve.

“You have to tell me what you know. Please! She was my sister!” her voice broke at the last, and Drake shook out of her grip, placing both his hands over her shoulders.

“I need to speak to a few more people,” he lowered his head so that their eyes were on the same level. “Trust me. As soon as I know more, I will tell you everything.”

“But...”

“No. No buts. Against my better judgement I am prepared to help you, but it’s on my terms; take it or leave it.” He held her gaze, not even blinking. Emotional, Quinn nodded.

“Good.”

“May I come in?” he asked when they reached her porch. Quinn had composed herself and she nodded, turning the key in the lock and stepping aside to allow him access. Technically, he didn’t need her permission, but she appreciated his consideration for her privacy. Drake walked through to the living-room, seeming perfectly at ease.

“Would you like something to drink?” Quinn called as she passed him on her way to the kitchen.

“I have some brandy in here somewhere.”

“I’ll have a beer,” he replied, and Quinn raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

“What? You think I can’t drink beer?”

“It just doesn’t seem like your usual style,” she admitted, grabbing two beers from the refrigerator and padding back into the living-room. Taking a bottle, he smiled down at her. Under the heat of his gaze, Quinn shifted uncomfortably. Drake was an enigma, one who threatened to unravel everything she had been taught.

“Do you know what I think?” he murmured, still towering over her.

“What do you think?”

“I think that I’m the ‘and’.”

“The what?”
“The ‘and’ at the end of your sentence. The reasons you’re staying in town a while. Sarah, and Todd, and...”

“You’re totally not the ‘and’,” Quinn snapped haughtily.

“Really?” he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Really.” All she wanted to do was move away from him, but doing so would only prove to him that she was affected by his nearness.

“You know, sometimes I think I should just kill you and save myself the aggravation,” he mused, a good-humoured twinkle in his eye.

“Really?” Quinn retorted. “You want to pick a fight with a Guardian?”

“No,” he smiled, “not really.”

Slowly, deliberately, he placed his beer on the side table and then he grabbed her shoulders, lifting her into the air as if she weighed nothing and launched them both across the room, to land gently on the sofa.

“Point taken,” Quinn grinned, amazed that he hadn’t spilt a single drop of her beer. Getting to his feet he calmly retrieved his own, before sitting back down beside her. It was surreal, Quinn thought, sitting so close to a vampire and feeling so inexplicably comfortable.

“You know, in a different life, you and I might have been friends,” she murmured without thinking.

“I thought we were friends.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

“We can’t be friends, Drake,” she insisted seriously.

“Why not?” he asked, with honest curiosity. “Because someone told you you can’t be friends with a vampire? Because I was told to kill a Guardian on sight? It seems that neither of us is good at following instructions, so why can’t we be friends?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is exactly that simple. Do you like me, Quinn?”

“I beg your pardon?” she blushed.

“I’m going to take that as a yes, but it’s not what I meant. You don’t want to kill me, right?”

“Only sometimes,” she grinned.

“I’m helping you?” he continued.

“Yes.”

“I saved your life.”

“Yes.”

“And you saved mine.”

“We’re not friends,” she insisted.

“We’re not enemies, either.” His voice had dropped so low that she had to strain to hear the words. He shifted closer to her, dominating most of her vision and Quinn’s heart beat faster in her chest. She froze as he lifted a long finger to her face, but he merely tugged a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“You beguile me, Quinn,” he breathed, his eyes dropping to her mouth. His words were so beautifully spoken that Quinn caught her breath, as his face loomed even closer, his green eyes filling her own.

“No,” she mumbled, pushing herself away from him. She was embarrassed, and clutched for an explanation that would make sense. “It’s not my fault that I can’t accept what you’re saying,” she admitted weakly. “Aleksei started this war. He slaughtered entire species; innocent creatures.”

In an instant, Drake’s expression turned cold.

“Aleksei would never have harmed any other creature if they had not sided with the Fae,” he snapped. “They should have remained neutral and not taken a side.” Quinn found this reasoning grossly unfair.

“They relied on the Fae magic. They had no choice.”

“Do you really think Eldon would have punished them if they had done nothing?” he laughed. “Come on, Quinn! Eldon - magnificent, all-powerful, lover of every living thing! We both know the war could have been contained between my people and the Fae. And while you are holding Aleksei responsible for every God-forsaken thing that has ever gone wrong in this world, best I remind you that Eldon murdered his son.”

“For someone who has no interest in the Quest you are remarkably well-informed of its history,” Quinn retorted. “And yes, Eldon killed Julian. But he had to. Julian was an abomination.”

“In what way?” Drake demanded.

“He should never have existed! Enah broke the Taboo!”

“Yes, Enah broke the Taboo. A law created and upheld by faeries, not vampires,” he reminded her. “And yet Enah was never punished for her crimes. Instead, Julian bore the brunt of Eldon’s wrath... starting a feud that has spanned millennia. Tell me Quinn, what do you think would have happened if Eldon had simply accepted Julian and Enah’s relationship? If he had allowed them to love each other and live out their lives in peace?”

Quinn had no answer to this question and she reacted defensively.

“How the hell would I know? It all happened over a thousand years ago! All I know is King Eldon would have had a good reason to do what he did. They broke the law!”

“Whose law?” he thundered, his face incandescent with rage. “Eldon’s? Why should Aleksei obey Eldon’s laws?” It was something in the way that he said it; a dark, personal fury that could only stem from one thing.

“Oh my God,” Quinn breathed. “You know him. You know Aleksei.”

Drake’s face had turned to stone and his hands trembled as he set his bottle down on the table so hard that it cracked in two. Quinn watched helplessly as the amber liquid pooled around the green glass and then dripped steadily onto the wooden floor.

“You don’t know anything,” he growled, getting to his feet. “And I think you’re just about adult enough for the boy Guardian who so obviously has feelings for you. He’s right for you, Quinn – you have the same beliefs, the same ideals and you have obviously both been brainwashed to despise something you have never even gotten to know. I feel sorry for you.”

“Wait!” Quinn leapt to her feet as he disappeared into the hall. “Drake, I... I don’t want this to be how...”

“Worried you might lose your one good lead?” he asked darkly. The hall seemed to shrink, closing in on them. Glorious in his fury, Drake was terrifying and larger than life. “Don’t worry Quinn, I’ll help you find your sister’s killer, but you might want to consider the possibility that it wasn’t an evil vampire who did it.”

The door slammed behind him so hard that the windows rattled. Quinn slumped back against the wall feeling horrible. Was he right, a small voice in her head whispered? Drake was certainly not the evil creature she had believed all vampires to be. What if there were more like him? What if everything she had been told was a lie?

Drake let himself into his house not even bothering to switch on the lights. He was furious – furious with Quinn for her narrow-minded superiority, and furious with himself for allowing her to bait him. He had almost lost control around her and he could not afford for that to happen; for her to discover his secret. He was so on edge that he didn’t even notice the figure sitting on the edge of the sofa until she spoke.

“Where have you been?” Genevieve pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re back?” Drake was not often caught unawares. “When did you arrive?”

“Just a few minutes ago,” she lied, her lips curving upward in an inviting smile. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he replied automatically, stepping into the living-room.

Easing herself off the sofa, Genevieve coiled herself around him, running one long-taloned fingernail down the front of his shirt, hard enough to make him wince.

“Show me,” she murmured huskily, and Drake bowed his head to hers.

Chapter 4

Isaiah stood alone in the great hall of the Cathedral with only his thoughts for company. The arrival of the newest Fae baby was a beautiful reminder of his purpose, the reason he had been chosen for this life. Isaiah had personally known King Eldon, and he had drawn on his passion, as well as his humility. Sliding the heavy silver bracelet off his wrist, Isaiah traced the red tattoo that marked his pale skin. He had been but an ordinary Guardian when he was branded as the most lethal vampire hunter of all. Daniel’s despair over Emily’s death had unleashed a rage in Isaiah, borne of compassion, and fuelled by the insatiable need to fix something that had been broken. Daniel hadn’t always been the hard, unyielding man he was today. He had been trained with Isaiah, taught that kindness and humility were traits to be cherished, by a King who had failed to listen to his heart. Eldon had learned from his mistakes, but Daniel had changed after Emily’s death. He would always be Isaiah’s best friend, but he would never be the same again.

Pale blue veins pulsed on Isaiah’s wrist, disappearing in spidery lines below the blood red of the tattoo emblazoned there. It had been both a blessing and a curse. For such a peaceful man, the violent urges were even more difficult to bear. Daniel had always questioned why it was Isaiah who had been chosen as the Slayer when he himself was the logical choice. Isaiah believed that it was for this very reason that Daniel hadn’t been chosen. To control the Slayer instinct was no easy feat; it required strength of a different kind. Power of the mind. Daniel, in his rage and the anger that he still held on to, after all these years, would have become a force of destruction. It was better, Isaiah mused, that he shouldered this burden, so that Daniel could perform his duties and not give in to the darkness.

He heard the soft whooshing that signalled someone was coming through the Gateway, a sound so soft that most Guardians weren’t aware of it, but Isaiah had spent over five hundred years in this Cathedral and he knew it’s every secret.

“What is it, Braddon?” he asked, the silver bracelet firmly back in place.

“It’s Rayna,” Braddon answered, “she wants to see him.” Rayna, for all intents and purposes Rafe’s sister, given that they shared a mother, was a she-wolf, and a member of the Lunar pack. Still, Isaiah was surprised that she would want to visit her half-brother. Rafe and Rayna had never had much of a relationship. Rayna had been born of Vivienne and Grayson’s union, after Grayson had defeated Rafe’s father, but the bad blood between their fathers had ensured that the half-siblings had never seen eye to eye.

“Would you like me to bring her in?” Braddon asked.

“Yes,” he nodded. The wards were never brought through the Gateway, but, as Rafe was still in the infirmary with Channon, Rayna would have to come to the Cathedral to see him.

Braddon did not stay to assist. Having brought Rayna through, he disappeared almost immediately.

“Where’s my brother?” Rayna asked immediately. She seemed uninterested in her surroundings, despite the fact that she had never set foot outside the City. Isaiah admired her singular purpose.

“He’s here,” Isaiah assured her, “but he’s not well. May I ask why you want to see him?”

“He’s my brother,” she replied haughtily. “I want to see for myself that he’s okay. After what happened to Channon. And… my mother.” The mention of Vivienne broke her strong façade and her face crumpled for just an instant.

“Are you all right?” Isaiah asked gently. “Vivienne’s death was a terrible…”

“I know what it was,” Rayna interrupted. “And I don’t want to talk about it with you. I want to see my brother.” Satisfied that she was here with only good intentions, Isaiah acquiesced.

“I’ll take you to him.”

Rafe heard the footsteps approaching and assumed Isaiah was making another of his frequent visits to check on them. Channon was healing remarkably, but Isaiah refused to allow her out of bed, much to her chagrin. She was as stubborn now as she had been as a child, Rafe mused. Before their relationship had grown into something stronger, Channon had been his friend. He had known her her whole life and they had always had a volatile relationship. They clashed as often as they got along, but it worked. Channon challenged him and would not be taken for a fool, and Rafe loved her all the more for it. She was the perfect Omega. It was too bad that Caleb saw it too. In truth, although Rafe had insisted Channon fulfill her duty, it had crucified him to think of her with Caleb. She was the love of his life. It was bittersweet that Channon defying the Alpha’s claim had resulted in his own mother’s death. Rafe felt as though he had been forced to choose between them.

Channon had not stopped apologising for failing to protect Vivienne. Even now, she was playing it back, over and over, trying to figure out what more she could have done – if she could have prevented it.

“If I had just accepted Caleb’s advances,” she muttered, “Vivienne might still be alive.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“But if I had…”

The footsteps stopped outside the door and Channon promptly stopped speaking, her mouth snapping closed. Rafe knew something was amiss when her eyes widened, and he glanced over his shoulder just as Rayna took her first tentative step into the room.

“What are you doing here?” Rafe demanded. Rayna froze where she was, only just inside the small room.

“I came to see if you were okay,” she announced. Channon squeezed Rafe’s hand, but the gesture was unnecessary. Rafe’s next words were no softer spoken, but they clarified his meaning.

“You shouldn’t be here, Rayna. It’s dangerous. The Alpha has made it clear that the pack is not permitted to see me.”

“I don’t care.” She was as stubborn as he was, hardly surprising given that both of their fathers had been Alphas. They had inherited their arrogance and pig-headedness.

“He will hurt you,” Rafe insisted, in a low, guttural growl. He refused to look at her, but Rayna pushed forward, coming to stand on the other side of Channon’s bed so that he had no choice, unless he deliberately turned his face away.

“What do you want Rayna?” Rafe had killed Rayna’s father, Grayson, when he replaced him as Alpha. It pained him that he had caused her such grief, but he had never regretted it. It had kept Channon safe from Grayson’s clutches.

“Our mother is dead,” she announced boldly, “The only tie that we had in this world is gone and I thought I could finally just forget you ever existed.”

“There was nothing to forget,” Rafe challenged, not letting her finish. They had never had any relationship. Rayna had been born after Grayson had defeated Rafe’s father and he had never been able to accept the offspring of a wolf who had usurped his father’s place, in both the pack, and his mother’s life.

“You have always blamed me for your family’s collapse,” Rayna was getting angry now. “Did you ever consider that I had nothing to do with it?” She sounded almost rueful, as though she wished things could have been different between them.

“It doesn’t matter,” Rafe countered, “even if we had bonded as siblings, that bond would have died along with your father, the day I killed him.”

“You know, Rafe, you’re not always right,” she snapped. “In fact, sometimes you are so wrong I wonder how you ever led our pack. Has it ever occurred to you that I didn’t hate you for what you did? Yes, you killed Grayson, but you did it to protect her,” she pointed a finger at Channon, who was trying to act as though she wasn’t there.

“Oh, so now you’re saying you care about Channon?” Rafe gave a short bark of laughter that, even to his own ears, sounded childish and petulant.

“No,” Rayna shook her pretty head, “but I did care about my mother. Our mother.” This brought Rafe up short. Neither of the siblings noticed Channon as she hid a small smile, sensing where the conversation was headed.

“Might I remind you that when my dad transferred his affections to her,” Rayna pointed again, “no offense,” she added and Channon shook her head to indicate none was taken, “that he abandoned my mother. He cast her aside as if she meant nothing to him. You were older, you’d distanced yourself, so you didn’t see the toll that took on her. She had learned to love him over the years, probably just as much as she loved your dad… Oh, don’t look at me like that, I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s the truth. Suck it up.” Rafe looked suitably affronted and Channon had to stuff a fistful of her sheet into her mouth to keep from laughing.

“He just dropped her,” Rayna finished, “like that!” she clicked her fingers to emphasise her point.

“What a dog,” Channon declared and Rayna nodded agreeably. Rafe gazed between the two of them, dumbstruck.

“What are you saying?” he asked, his confusion evident.

“What I’m saying is that I never hated you for becoming Alpha,” Rayna explained as though speaking to a child, “although how you treated me after certainly didn’t endear me to you in any way.”

In his utter confidence that his sister would have hated him for what he had done, Rafe had treated her harshly. Well, not exactly. He had done something worse than that – he had treated her as though she didn’t exist. In his newfound status, he had spurned her and many members of the pack had followed suit. Rayna’s resentment had grown, and slowly the two had become strangers, sharing a mutual enmity toward one another.

“Okay, so you didn’t hate me then, but the fact is that we don’t get on,” Rafe retorted. “So why are you here now?”

“Because just when I thought I was free of you, something else occurred to me.”

“And what was that?”

All the arrogance faded from Rayna’s face, replaced by a deep sorrow.

“That you are the only family I have left.”

When he didn’t respond, Rayna inhaled a deep breath and turned for the door.

“Rafe,” Channon whispered, prodding him in the side. Rafe shook his head. He had been so startled by Rayna’s revelation that he had, temporarily, been physically unable to respond.

“Wait!” he half-yelled, as he watched his sister’s departing figure. She turned around warily. “I’m sorry,” he admitted. “I honestly didn’t know. All these years I… well, I’m sorry if I made you feel like you didn’t matter. Every member of the pack is valuable, and family… well, family is everything. I should have reached out to you. I always thought I was a good Alpha… it never even occurred to me that I might be the worst of them all. Maybe it’s better that Caleb…”

“No!” Rayna’s voice echoed around the small room. “No, Rafe, that’s not what I meant. You were a good Alpha… the best, from what I hear from the others. Caleb is a monster.”

“The others…?”

Not for the first time, Rayna looked hesitant.
“That’s what I came to talk to you about. Caleb has gone too far. He killed mom, and he won’t stop there. None of us are safe. He’s evil and the pack knows it.” Rafe narrowed his eyes. In wolf form, the pack operated on a single consciousness and he doubted that they would turn on their leader so easily.

“Okay, maybe not the whole pack,” Rayna admitted, as though reading his thoughts. “But there are a few of us who…” Now it was Rafe’s turn to interrupt, and when he did, it was as though his own life depended on it. He stepped forward, seizing her by her slim shoulders.

“Rayna, listen to me. Do not do this. I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, or what they’ve been saying, but you don’t understand the pack hierarchy. He will find out and he will punish anyone who has even thought about defying him. And he’s within his rights to do so,” he added gravely. “The pack is not a democratic alliance… it is a society run solely by one man. Caleb is that man, and anything you do that intimates otherwise will be very, very bad for you.”

“But we can’t just let him carry on like this! He’s already threatened you, murdered a she-wolf… not to mention what he did to Cassandra.”

“I killed Cassandra,” Channon spoke up.

“Only because of what she did. I grew up with Cassie; she wasn’t a bad person. Caleb treated her like dirt; he used her and then humiliated her in the worst way. He preyed on her animal instinct and then fanned the flames until she couldn’t control herself. He’s not good for the pack,” she turned back to her brother.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Rafe reiterated. “Please Rayna, don’t get involved with this… rebellion, or whatever it is. It’s not going to work. I’m begging you, just go back inside and tell no-one that you saw me. Keep out of his way and you will be safe.”

“What about you? Word has it you’re being brought back in.” She was desperate for him to deny it.

“The Guardians should never have let me out. Too many wolves have been hurt because of me.”

“So you’re going to just lie down and die?”

“It’s not like that! Don’t you think I’d kill him myself if I could? I can’t beat him, Rayna; I’m too old, too weak.” Admitting it out loud was almost too much for him.

“I won’t let you die.”

“What?”
“I won’t let you die,” she repeated. “At the next full moon, the Guardians will release you into the City. Caleb is going to try and kill you. I won’t let that happen.”

“How do you propose to stop it?” Rafe smiled sadly.

“Dominic will challenge him!”

“Dominic?” Rafe’s eyes widened. He vaguely recalled that his sister and the young wolf were close, but Dominic was nowhere near a match for Caleb’s strength.  “Are you insane? Dominic will get himself killed!”

“We have to try.”

“Is Dominic the one who’s got you wrapped up in this mess?”

“Give me a little more credit,” Rayna sneered. “My father was an Alpha and my mother was one of the strongest Omegas this pack has ever known. I can think for myself.”

It was hopeless trying to talk her out of it, Channon thought, although Rafe did his utmost to try and do just that. Eventually, only to set his mind at ease, Rayna half-heartedly agreed to stay out of trouble. Giving him an awkward hug, she left.

“She’s not going to listen to me,” he announced when she was gone. His face was greyer than before.

“No, she’s not,” Channon agreed.

“What on earth is she thinking? They can’t do this!”

“They have to try.” Her acceptance riled him.

“How can you say that?”

“Because come the next full moon you and I will be gone,” she spoke with such acceptance it sent chills down his spine. Any hope he had clung to that Channon would finally concede defeat and go along with Caleb to avoid her own death died at the finality in her tone. “And our pack will be left with a tyrant to rule them,” Channon continued. “They are the future… Rayna, Dominic, and all the brave young wolves who see him for who he really is. Someone has to challenge him. I hope that they do. I hope that they keep challenging him until someone finally overcomes the bastard. A lot of wolves might die before that happens, but it’s inevitable. Rayna is on the right side.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but Rafe couldn’t argue with her logic. It was ironic that after years of treating her with indifference, the first real emotion he experienced toward his sister was a fierce sense of pride.

Chapter 5

Genevieve lay beside Drake, listening to the steady sound of his breathing, a frown creasing her usually smooth forehead. She had arrived earlier than she had admitted, searching the entire town for Drake. Only when she had become suspicious had she made her way to that bitch’s house and finally found him. Genevieve had stayed out of sight as he stalked out of Quinn’s home in a rage. Drake was an intense person, but was not prone to emotional outbursts. It was one of the things Genevieve found so attractive about him – she could never really get under his skin. And yet this simple, unremarkable woman seemed to have done just that. Genevieve felt an overwhelming hatred for Quinn. First the attack, now this. Her fingernails dug into her palms. Quinn would have to be dealt with, permanently.

Two blocks down, Quinn tossed and turned in her bed, willing herself to sleep. She had a queasy, unsettled feeling in her gut. The fight with Drake had affected her far more than she wanted to admit. It was frightening how important he had become to her in such a short space of time. She felt like she knew him well, and, at the same time, not at all. Heaving a sigh, she rolled onto her back staring at the ceiling in frustration.

A noise downstairs distracted her and she sat bolt upright, her ears pricked, listening intently. She heard it again, a soft thud, followed by the sound of footsteps. Someone was inside her house. Rolling deftly to the side, Quinn grabbed her stake from the bedside table and then leapt off the bed in one swift movement. She was wearing only Tristan’s coat over a pair of bikini bottoms and a vest, but that was the least of her concerns. Making her way soundlessly down the stairs in the pitch black darkness of the house, Quinn heard nothing but the sound of her own heartbeat ringing in her ears.

She paused, a few steps from the bottom, straining her ears. The next second someone moved below, coming towards her and Quinn flung herself forward, her body colliding with the intruder and knocking them both to the floor. The stake clattered out of her hand and Quinn rolled in the direction of the sound, desperate for a weapon.

“What the hell?” a shocked voice rang out and she stopped, her racing heart slowing slightly.

“Tristan?” she fumbled for the lamp on the table and finally found the switch. Flipping it on, she found Tristan sitting near the base of the stairs sporting a spectacular lump on his forehead.

“Oh my God!” A nervous giggle escaped her as she made her way back over to him. “Tristan what are you doing here?” she offered him her hand and pulled him to his feet. “And how did you get in?”

He clutched his head, wincing as he felt the lump.

“You gave me a key, remember?” he pulled it from his pocket and dangled it in front of her. Quinn settled him on the sofa and ran to the kitchen to get a bag of frozen peas.

“Here,” she pulled his hand free and placed the bag on his head. “You’re going to have a headache.” She felt inexplicably happy to see him, as if by simply being here he had chased away all her melancholy.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, taking the bag from her and pressing it down himself. “You didn’t hide the crystal here, surely?”

“No, of course not,” she lied. “I just came to see Sarah. I wasn’t far and I thought I’d stop by for a couple of days. But... why are you so surprised? Didn’t you come here looking for me?”

“No,” he admitted. “In fact, now I feel a bit embarrassed, actually.”

“Why?”

“Because I came here to be closer to you... without actually being closer to you,” he grinned sheepishly. “Does that even make sense?”

Quinn gestured at his coat, which she was still wearing because it smelt of him, and she shook her head.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “It makes sense.”

“It looks good on you,” he mused, his gaze falling to where the coat fell open, exposing her concave belly. Quinn quickly pulled it around herself.

“Do you want something to drink? Something to eat?”

“No, I’m fine,” he declined.

“Well I guess you can stay in the spare room,” she offered politely, getting to her feet.

Tristan followed her up the stairs to the double room that had been intended for Jack and Ava – the same room he had shared with Rafe. Quinn wasn’t sure what to say as the tension mounted between them. She was suddenly anything but tired, but they were both too embarrassed to speak.

“If you need anything, just help yourself,” she murmured shyly.

Back in her own room she had just pulled the covers over herself when there was a gentle knock on the door. With butterflies doing the conga in her stomach, she walked over and opened it.

“There is something I need,” Tristan’s eyes were dark and sombre.

“What is it?’ Quinn asked, already knowing the answer.

The words had barely left her lips when his mouth claimed hers. Quinn didn’t want to think – she didn’t want to remember all the reasons why she shouldn’t be doing this. She didn’t want to acknowledge the part of her that secretly wondered if this was simply the best way to drive all thoughts of Drake from her mind. She didn’t want to feel anything but Tristan’s hard, lean body crushed against hers. Wrapping her arms around his neck she clung to him in wanton abandon, making it crystal clear that this time she would not resist him.

Quinn woke in the morning with the groggy, sated feeling only a night of rampant lovemaking brought. Stretching languorously her hand encountered Tristan’s shoulder and she turned sleepily towards him. He pulled her closer, still lingering between sleep and wakefulness and she wriggled against him.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his eyes still closed.

“Morning,” she mumbled into his shoulder. When she pulled back, his eyes were open, clear blue as the sky through the window behind him.

“How do you feel?”

“Good,” she admitted, and he looked relieved.

“We should talk,” he offered and Quinn nodded. They would have to discuss what had happened, but she needed a clear head.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

As she hopped out of bed, Tristan followed her progress, enjoying the glorious sight of her naked body. “I’ll meet you downstairs in five,” Quinn grinned, before stepping into the bathroom and pulling the door shut.

Tristan pulled on his pants, discarded at the foot of the bed, and made his way downstairs. Putting the coffee on he replayed the previous night’s events in his head. He had made love to Quinn before, but last night had been different. She was more passionate than he remembered, but there was something else, something he couldn’t put his finger on. It was almost as if her body had been more invested than her heart. He was still reminiscing when she burst into the kitchen like a breath of fresh air.

Handing her a cup of steaming hot coffee, he followed her into the living-room.

“So,” Quinn began, “let’s talk.”

“I love you, Quinn,” he announced, so out of the blue that she almost sloshed her coffee down her white T-shirt. “Don’t say anything,” he held up his hand before continuing, “I don’t want you to say anything. Not now. This situation is complicated and I know you’re confused. There is so much to consider – I’m confused too. But I’m not confused about that. I love you. I just needed you to know, no matter what happens.”

Quinn felt a warm sensation blossoming in her belly and spreading through the rest of her body. Tristan loved her. He was right – it was complicated, and Quinn still wasn’t entirely sure if they could ever make it work; but he loved her, and for now, that was enough. Perhaps once she had avenged Avery’s death she could put her sister’s memory to rest once and for all and move on with her life, with Tristan. She wouldn’t make him any promises, but she owed it to him to tell him the truth. He had loved Avery, too and he deserved his own closure. Taking a deep breath, Quinn made her decision.

“I’m going to find Avery’s killers,” she told him. Her response was nothing he had expected and he gave a start of surprise.

“How?” Not why, she noted, and she completely understood. They both knew why. She had been taken from them, and if there was any chance of justice, they would both take it.

“You’re not going to like it,” she murmured, “but I need you to trust me.”

Tristan’s response to the fact that she was working with a vampire was suitably outraged.

“You can’t trust them, Quinn! Have you completely lost your mind? They’ll kill you!”

“It’s not they,” Quinn insisted, “it’s he. And he won’t hurt me. He saved my life, Tristan.”

“It’s a trap! Do you really think that a vampire would help a Guardian? We’re the ultimate prize – he’s just gaining your trust to make it easier.”

“I trust him,” she said firmly, “and you’re going to have to trust me.”

She could tell he didn’t like it. The thought of Quinn colluding with a vampire obviously made his skin crawl, but Tristan should know her well enough to know that she would not be dissuaded. She was just as stubborn as her sister had been – even more so.

“I want to meet him,” he fired back eventually.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised, but she seriously doubted that Drake would tolerate a third party getting involved in their arrangement. He was barely even speaking to her. “There’s something else,” she added, her stomach turning as she braced herself to ask him the question she had been dreading. “You found Avery’s body?”

“Yes,” he nodded grimly.

“How sure are you that she was attacked by vampires?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you sure that it was a vampire attack that killed her?” Quinn pressed. “Drake seems to think it may have been something else.”

“Oh, does Drake?” he sneered furiously. “Well, Drake didn’t find her broken, mangled corpse. She had been bitten, Quinn! Bitten a thousand times! They tore her to shreds and left her in a pool of her own blood!”

“Tristan,” she reached for him as he spun out of control. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I can’t imagine what you went through.” Her eyes welled with tears as she thought about the violent, vicious end to her sister’s life. “But we have to consider every possibility. If vampires attacked Avery why did they leave Jack and Ava?” Vampires were notoriously cruel when it came to the Guardians. Ava and Jack had been found, unharmed, in the room just next door to Avery’s body, screaming in their cribs. “Murdering a Guardian’s children would have been almost as great an achievement as killing the Guardian herself,” Quinn murmured.

“The council discussed this,” he moaned. “They must have been interrupted. Or they didn’t know the children were there.”

“Maybe,” Quinn soothed, still stroking his back, but she didn’t entirely believe that. Something was off and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. She had to know the truth.

“I need you to promise me that you won’t say anything,” she asked much later when Tristan had calmed down. His eyes were bloodshot and all the joy of earlier seemed to have seeped from his body. He sat, stooped and unseeing, on the sofa. “Tristan?” she pressed.

“For now,” he agreed, clearly wrestling with his better judgement. “But so help me, Quinn, if I sense that you are in any danger, I’ll hunt him down myself.” She expected nothing less.

“Thank you.”

Chapter 6

Rowena finished unpacking their fair equipment, her mind and body exhausted. Balthazar stood alone at the far edge of the encampment refusing to look at her or even acknowledge her. She couldn’t blame him after what he had seen. The sleazy, vile man with the nasal voice and wads of cash who had clambered on top of her. He wasn’t the first. Countless nameless, faceless men had used her to satisfy their guilty pleasures, but he had been her undoing. Balthazar was never supposed to find out – hurting Balthazar was the last thing in the world she had ever wanted. He was kind and considerate and everything she had done had been for him. His obsession with the search would never be over. And without it, she feared he would never be the same man. So she had done whatever it took to make sure that he could continue. And she had never agreed to marry him, because how could she when she was not worthy of his love? Her vile actions had been performed out of pure selflessness – for him, but they kept her from committing to him in the eyes of God. And so she had deflected his proposals, letting him believe that she did not really want to marry - which was the bitterest lie of them all. Rowena loved Balthazar more than life itself. She had loved him her whole life and she would love him for the rest of her days. She took comfort in the fact that, despite everything, she had enabled him to fulfil his life’s mission. He had found the City, in a large part thanks to her actions, and with that, she would be content.

Balthazar could see her, out of the corner of his eye. He was always aware of her – of every move she made – but he could not block out the vision of her in that tent, her soft white thighs spread wide, her hair coming free of its ties. He had retched when he arrived back, over and over until there was nothing left but dry heaving that hurt his insides. She had betrayed him; in the worst possible way. After everything he had done for her! He had sheltered her – kept her safe under his protection. He had allowed her to speak freely when gypsy women were expected to be subservient. Having worked himself into a hateful frenzy, Balthazar gave in to the black fury that had been growing and festering inside him since this morning.

Striding over to where Melchior sat, stoking the fire, he waited until he had the man’s undivided attention.

“She’s all yours,” he intoned hollowly, gesturing at Rowena. Melchior swivelled around, taking in her shapely form and a cruel smile split his face.

“You’re kidding right?” he sneered.

“No,” Balthazar replied ruthlessly. “You’re right. She needs to be taught some manners. She refuses to be my wife, so she’s fair game. Tell the men.”

Rowena watched Balthazar moving away from Melchior, a feeling of dread coming over her. Drawing herself up to her full height she set her jaw stubbornly. She would not go down without a fight. As hurt and broken as she was without Balthazar, they would not break her spirit.

The attack came earlier in the evening than she expected. She lay in the back of her truck with her eyes fixed on the canvas flap. She had sent the other women out, insisting they sleep in the main tent – she did not want them to witness this, or worse still, to be drawn into it. When Melchior pulled back the flap, a lecherous grin on his face, Rowena steeled herself.

“What do you want, Melchior?” she feigned exasperation.

“I just need a little loving, Ro,” he replied pleasantly. She had always hated that pet name.

“I’m tired,” she snapped. “Go and find someone else more willing to share your bed.”

“Just give me a couple minutes,” he coaxed. “You’ll be willing enough.”

All the air was whooshed from her body as he clambered in an ungainly manner across her, sitting astride her as if she were a one-trick pony. By the light of her lantern she could see the mounting excitement on his face – the fact that, finally, after all these years of watching from a distance – he could claim her. She slipped her hand beneath her pillow and felt the hilt of the small dagger she had hidden there earlier. As she withdrew it, something caught her eye. The tent flap was pulled open again and Rowena saw a sea of faces staring into the truck bed - male faces, all waiting in line. Frozen with horror, she let go of the dagger. There were too many of them. Balthazar had released her into the community with free rein.

“Get it over with,” she murmured hollowly, turning her head to one side.

The night drew on, hours passing, punctuated by the heavy grunts and heaves of the gypsy men. Rowena said nothing; she simply lay there, as still as a corpse, but she never once closed her eyes.

It was Jonas who found her in the early hours of the morning. She had tried to get up when they had finally left her alone, but every movement was agony, and so she had simply collapsed back onto the worn blankets, staring unseeingly at the faded canvas.

“Rowena!” Jonas took one look at her and leapt up onto the flatbed, taking her face in his hands. “Rowena!” he yelled again, and it sounded as though he was very far away. Rowena had withdrawn to another place - a place far from here - a place where they couldn’t hurt her no matter what they did to her physical body. Jonas’s face was screwed up in a panic, his hands assessing the damage, looking for injuries. He looked terrified, and very, very young. For him, she had to come back. She had to comfort him, to reassure him that everything would be okay.

“I’m fine,” she managed to croak, her lips dry.

“No, you’re not,” he wiped his nose with his sleeve, gently pulling the covers over her naked thighs. “Who did this to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she murmured, trying to clear her throat.

“Here,” Jonas pressed a bottle of water against her lips and she drank gratefully.

“Thank you,” she said.

Helping her into a sitting position, he asked again, his mouth an ugly, grim line. “Who did this?”

“It's fine, Jonas, everything’s okay, please don’t worry about me.”

“I’m going to get dad,” he started to move away and she snatched at his sleeve.

“No!” she cried desperately. A look of horrified understanding dawned on his youthful face.

“He knows, doesn’t he?”

Rowena nodded, tears of mortification springing to her eyes. She had not wept a single tear through everything she had endured last night, but Jonas’s kind, compassionate face, so like his father’s, crucified her.

“Leave it,” she murmured, as determined resolution replaced the horror. “Jonas,” she warned, “leave it. Please! Jonas!” she whimpered, but he was gone, launching himself out of the flatbed, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

Rowena ignored the pain and crawled to the edge of the truck, climbing out and wrapping a sheet around her.

“Dad!” Jonas roared from the centre of the clearing, spinning left and right as he searched for his father’s face amongst the gypsies who were emerging from various tents and vehicles around camp.

“What’s wrong, boy?” Melchior asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Rowena made an involuntary movement away from him and Jonas’s eyes narrowed.

“You son-of-a-bitch!” he yelled, throwing himself at the older man. They both crashed to the ground, rolling a few times as Jonas tried to pummel every part of Melchior’s body he could reach.

“What in the name...?” Melchior grunted as a particularly lucky blow found its mark in his belly and winded him. Rowena came to her senses and launched herself at the flailing pair, grabbing Jonas’s arm as he pulled it back for another swing and trying to pull him away.

“What’s going on?” Balthazar thundered, appearing from the edge of the clearing. Despite everything, Rowena felt weak with relief that he was alone and no gypsy woman followed him.

The sound of his father’s voice, however, was too much for Jonas, who redoubled his efforts, taking a swing at Balthazar instead. Balthazar dodged easily, grabbing Jonas’s arm as it whizzed past him, and pinning his son against him.

“Calm down!” he hissed as Jonas writhed in his arms trying to free himself. His eyes met Rowena’s over Jonas’s shoulder and he flinched as he saw how pale she looked, her eyes dull and lifeless, and her blouse torn, exposing her ample cleavage. Turning away from the heartbreaking sight, he hauled Jonas through the clearing and into the surrounding woods, flinging him to the ground only when they were far enough away so as not to be overheard.

“What’s gotten into you?” he demanded.

“How could you?” Jonas gave him a look of utter loathing. “How could you let them do that to her?” Balthazar took a deep breath, exhaling in a sigh.

“Jonas, Rowena is single. You know our custom.”

“Rowena is our family! She’s not some gypsy plaything.”

“I offered her marriage,” Balthazar reminded him coldly, “over and over again. She didn’t want to be a part of our family so she belongs to the community.”

“She’s a person! Not a fucking belonging!”

“You watch your tongue,” Balthazar growled.

“Or what?” Jonas sneered hatefully.

“Don’t push me Jonas. This is not a democracy. You’re young; you don’t yet understand our ways, but you’ll learn.”

“Learn? You really think I want to learn how to treat people like that? Never! Do you hear me? I will never be like you! Wasting your whole life on this ridiculous fairytale. Searching for something that doesn’t exist. The second I turn eighteen, I'm out of here – just like all the others. And I’m taking Rowena with me!” he added, for good measure.

“Have you asked her if she wants to leave?” Balthazar smirked. This brought Jonas up short. Surely Rowena wouldn’t want to stay, not after this? But then he thought of all the other women who received exactly the same treatment and who had never expressed any desire to go anywhere.

“And, as to wasting my life,” Balthazar continued, more gently, “I think there is something you need to see.”

Chapter 7

There was no point in staying in Brookfield. Quinn’s revelation had changed something between her and Tristan. She trusted that he would not betray her secret but he needed time to process this new information and come to terms with it. He had already pulled away from her, and the worst was yet to come, Quinn thought grimly, as she lay alone in her bed. Tristan had gone to sleep in the spare room, both of them deciding that they needed to cool their heels and take time to think. Also, after all the talk of Avery, neither of them felt much like being intimate.

Quinn also needed to speak with Isaiah, although she dreaded the conversation. What Drake had told her had left a seed of doubt in her mind. Was it possible that Avery’s death had been something other than a vampire attack? There was only one way to know for certain and she still didn’t know if she could go through with it. Regardless, they would leave for Summerfeld in the morning. Kicking off her covers Quinn glanced at the bedside clock. It had just gone 3.30 a.m. She stifled a groan with her pillow. She had been up all night. The soft ping of her mobile phone not five minutes later was a welcome distraction. The message was from Drake and said simply: Meet me at the old train station. She knew the place. It was near the woods that she and Tristan had taken Rafe to during the full moon.

Quinn didn’t want to face Drake, not after the way they had parted following their last encounter, and certainly not after what had happened between her and Tristan, but she would not have a chance to speak to him again before she left and he had been right about one thing; he was her only good lead. Sending a hasty reply, she donned a knitted black sweater over a pair of jeans and pulled on her boots. Creeping downstairs, Quinn opened the front door as quietly as possible and then closed it with the tiniest click.

Being a small town, Brookfield had abandoned their rail system several years before, because it wasn’t used enough to warrant it. The old station building, however, had been deemed a landmark, and as such it could not be torn down. The lock on the door had long been broken, no doubt by trouble-making teens, and as Quinn pushed the door open it emitted an ominous creak. She felt the dust billow from beneath her feet as she stamped them to keep warm.

“Drake?” she whispered and a cloud of vapour rose from her mouth. Hugging herself, she ventured further inside, her eyes quickly adjusting to the dark room. “Drake?” she called, slightly louder this time.

She was expecting him, so when her body alerted her to a vampire’s presence, she didn’t react as quickly as she normally would have, but, by the time they had her surrounded, Quinn had a stake gripped firmly in each hand.

She pivoted slowly on the spot. Eight vampires, all male, had her hemmed in, none of them Drake.

“We have a message from Genevieve,” one of the nameless men hissed, and Quinn turned towards the source.

“And what message is that?” she asked arrogantly.

He didn’t answer, but the sadistic grin that spread across his face was all the answer she needed. Genevieve wanted her dead.

Knowing she could not fight them off surrounded as she was, Quinn did the only thing she could: she bolted. Running straight at the grimy window to her left, shouldering a vampire out of her way, she tucked her body in as she leapt. Hitting the glass sideways she held her arms over her face to protect it from the shattering shards.

She landed hard on the cracked asphalt outside, her right hip taking the brunt of her fall. She ignored the pain, leaping to her feet and backing up against a wide brick column so that they could only attack her from the front. It took longer than she expected for them to follow; they had not anticipated her reaction. The vampire who had spoken watched her curiously, looking reluctantly impressed and eyed her stake with slightly more apprehension. Genevieve didn’t know she was a Guardian, and neither had her henchmen, but Quinn suspected they were fast figuring it out.

Now it was Quinn who smiled, determined not to betray her fear. She prayed that they would not attack together and her wish was granted. One of the vampires nearest her moved suddenly, going for the obvious attack – straight for her throat. Quinn dodged, keeping her back to the column and, before the others knew what was happening, she drove her stake through his heart.

With a snarl of fury the second vampire lunged at her and Quinn shoved the greying body of her first victim at him with enough force to slow his attack so that she could deal with the third vampire as he, too, reached her. Dropping low, keeping the cold brick against her back, she flipped the stake in her left hand as she plunged the stake in her right into his thigh, feeling a surge of satisfaction as his battle cry morphed into a howl of pain. As he bent low, clasping his bleeding leg, Quinn rocketed upwards, thrusting her second stake through his chin and up into his skull.

It all happened in only a few seconds, and, incapacitated, the vampire slumped down on top of her but Quinn slipped out from under his dead weight just in time. Reaching across his fallen comrade, the vampire who she had slowed down seized a handful of her hair and dragged her towards him. Quinn shrieked as she pulled away, leaving a clump of hair in his outstretched hand. Enraged, all six remaining vampires surged towards her and Quinn scrambled around the brick column.

As she raced towards the train tracks, she heard them moving behind her, but she forced her legs to pump even faster, leaping across the old tracks and skidding to a halt before a low wall just on the other side. She could hear birds chirping in the trees around her and she risked a glance heavenward, knowing the sun was only a few minutes away.

“You are no ordinary girl,” said the vampire who had done all the talking thus far. He must be really stupid not to have figured it out by now. “Genevieve will be interested to know that you put up a fight.”

“Genevieve can go to hell,” Quinn hissed.

“I’m sure she will... when she’s good and ready. You killed one of my best men back there,” he jerked his head over his shoulder, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Wait!” Quinn cried, sensing they were preparing to attack. She held up both stakes so that they were in clear view. “Surely you don’t want to kill me before you find out where I got these?” She was stalling for time as a faint purplish hue on the horizon signalled the impending dawn.

A part of her prayed that Tristan would find her but she knew that was not possible. Even if he had noticed she was missing he would never get here in time. Fleetingly, she thought of Drake, who might have figured out what Genevieve was up to if he had checked his phone, but dawn was fast approaching and Drake was not coming to her aid.

The six vampires moved closer, stepping carefully over the tracks until they were just out of arms' reach. Quinn didn’t wait for them to come any closer. Vaulting forward she aimed for the small space between two of them, striking out with both hands as she reached them. She was lucky – the vampire to her right, thinking she was trying to escape, didn’t move aside in time and her stake ran through his chest. Quinn did not have time to withdraw it and the vampire to her left knocked her arm aside with enough force to send her second stake clattering uselessly to the floor.

Weaponless against five opponents, Quinn made a lightning decision. Knowing she wouldn’t reach the fallen stake before the vampire who stood beside it, she went instead for the one that was still embedded in the greying body of her last victim. She reached it only a second before the others, but it was enough to allow her to twist as her next assailant crashed heavily down upon her, sinking his teeth into her shoulder at the same instant that he impaled himself on the vertical stake. Trapped beneath his heavy corpse she saw four shadows pass over her as the others towered above her. Quinn could see the sky between their heads, lighter than before, but not light enough.

“You didn’t do too badly,” the familiar voice crooned, and Quinn saw that the vampire was smiling down at her. As he reached a long-taloned hand towards her, Quinn struggled helplessly to free the stake wedged between her and the vampire corpse pinning her to the ground. The weight was relenting as the body slowly turned to ash but she would never free the stake in time.

Thinking wildly of Avery, Quinn wondered if she had felt this helpless when she was finally overpowered by her killers. The vampire’s eyes swam before her as he reached for her and Quinn kept her eyes open, gazing at him defiantly.

“Quinn!”

Just as she thought it was all over a roar from her left distracted her and she whipped her head around to see a blur racing towards them. A second later, Drake materialised, knocking aside two of the men looming over her, including the spokesman who had been a second away from ending her life. The others immediately went to his aid and Quinn used the distraction to struggle out from under the corpse and get to her feet. The pain in her shoulder was debilitating but she managed to kick out at the vampire nearest her, getting his attention. As he turned towards her, she staked him savagely.

Drake had also despatched one of his assailants and only two vampires remained. Filled with a renewed sense of hope, Quinn stepped forward to help, but, as she did, she gave a gasp of shock. She had all but forgotten the dawn; however, now, as the sun broke the horizon, its rays lit upon her face, warming her cheeks and the vampires froze in combat, turning to face their maker as they burst into flames.

Quinn stared, wonder-struck as Drake moved calmly past the burning spectres to retrieve her second stake. He came to stand before her, pressing it into her free hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked, as Quinn stood motionless, gaping at a vampire who was standing in broad daylight.

Chapter 8

Jonas turned on the spot, taking in the beauty of his surroundings.

“I don’t believe it,” he murmured.

“I told you, son,” Balthazar laid his hand on Jonas’s shoulder. “Everything is going to change.”

“Everything?” Jonas stepped away shrugging off his hold. “Including Rowena?”

“Rowena made her choice.”

“She didn’t want to marry you!” Jonas spat. “That's not a crime, dad! And so you cast her out and treated her like a common whore.”

“If only you knew how close to the truth that was,” Balthazar sighed. “I will not argue with you Jonas. I have made my decision.”

“You’re a monster,” Jonas hissed. “You may have found the City, but I will only remember you as the man who abandoned the only mother I have ever known. That will be your legacy!”

“Enough!” Balthazar’s hand catapulted forward striking Jonas across the cheek, the heavy signet ring he wore on his right hand cutting a clean line across Jonas’s cheek. Jonas clapped a hand to the cut, staring at his father through heavy-lidded eyes.

“I’ll see you back at the truck,” Balthazar said, turning and moving through the veiled edge of the magical boundary between Cliffdale and New Haven.

Jonas stood a long while on the crest of the hill gazing down at the Cathedral. It was even more magnificent than his most vivid imaginings. As he watched, the great doors opened and Jonas ducked down on the ridge, fearful of being seen. And then he caught his breath, because coming out of the doors, along with a laughing woman and two small children, was a girl with deep red hair, the colour of the bracken that littered their campsite. He would recognise that hair anywhere. He had found her. Monique.

“I’ll see you back at camp,” he told his father when he arrived at the Chevy.

“It’s a five mile walk,” Balthazar pointed out. “Don’t be ridiculous, Son, get in the truck.”

“I said I’ll see you back at camp.”

Shaking his head, Balthazar started the engine which spluttered a few times before finally catching. Revving, he glared at Jonas through the open window.

“Maybe the walk will do you good,” he mused. “Come back in a better mood.” And with that, he rumbled out of the trees and onto the dirt road.

Jonas waited until the van had disappeared from view and then he sprinted back to the portal, stepping over the edge of the canyon far more confidently than he had done the first time. At the crest of the hill he peered down at the Cathedral, searching the surrounding grounds. He spotted them meandering through the trees on the far left, and, without any hesitation, he broke into a run.

Monique played a few games of tag with the twins and then settled down on the soft grass as her mother pulled a book from her bag.

“Why do you love it out here so much?” Monique asked. Camille brought them here once a day to read to Jack and Ava.

“It reminds me of home,” Camille smiled.

“You know we’re still within the City’s enchantments, right?”

“Technically, yes. But it doesn’t feel like it.” A breeze lifted Monique’s hair and blew it over her left shoulder.

“It’s nice,” she admitted, giving Camille a rare smile of approval.

“Are you guys ready?” Camille asked with exaggerated excitement and the twins shrieked their agreement. Monique lay back against a tree trunk, closing her eyes to listen.

She wasn’t exactly sure when she became aware that they were being watched, but her protective instinct over Jack and Ava kicked into high gear and she cast a frantic glance around. Camille and the children were so engrossed in the story they didn’t even notice her get to her feet. A movement caught Monique’s eye and she peered through the trees to her left. To her astonishment, a familiar face peeked out at her from behind a wide tree trunk.

Jonas placed a finger to his lips, pleading with her not to expose him.

“I’m going to go for a walk, mom,” Monique called.

“Okay,” Camille didn’t even look up, “don’t go far.”

Monique walked right past the tree behind which Jonas was hiding and he followed her, keeping out of view of her mother and the twins.

“What are you doing here?” Monique rounded on him when there was no chance they could be overheard. Noticing the thin cut on his cheek, she added, “What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” he brushed her hand away. He had forgotten all about it.

“What are you doing here, Jonas?” Monique repeated.

“I... I saw you and I wanted to say ‘Hi’.”

“You saw me?” she raised a single red eyebrow. “You saw me how, exactly?” Jonas ran a hand through his hair. This was definitely not going as planned. Monique didn’t look thrilled to see him. In fact, she looked nervous as hell. Unable to bear the accusation in her eyes, he dropped his gaze. And that’s when he saw it - the ornate white tattoo emblazoned on her pale wrist. Jonas couldn’t believe it. There was no way she could have that mark – unless she were a... No, she couldn’t possibly be a Guardian! She was just a kid, his age, if not younger.

“How old are you?” he asked bluntly.

“Fifteen,” Monique replied automatically.

Jonas shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. He had made a terrible mistake in coming here. If Monique was a Guardian, and the presence of the tattoo was a pretty good indication that she was, then there was no way that he could ever be her friend, let alone anything more. And if the other Guardians found out he was here, there was no telling what they might do to him.

“I have to go,” he mumbled, turning back in the direction of the road.

“Wait, why?” she grabbed his arm.

“I made a mistake coming here.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he opened his arms helplessly. “Monique, do you have any idea what I am?”

“No,” she admitted, casting an anxious glance over her shoulder.

“I’m a gypsy!” To his astonishment, she laughed.

“Oh-kay... so you’re a gypsy. What, like with a caravan and everything?” The amusement in her blue eyes was unmistakeable, but she wasn’t making fun of him and she obviously had no idea that the Guardians hated his people.

“You don’t know about the gypsies?”

“What about them? I mean, I know they travel around a lot...”

“We travel for a reason Monique.” She liked the way he said her name; it sounded foreign and beautiful on his lips. “We’ve been searching for Summerfeld for a thousand years.” Her mouth dropped open in an expression of genuine astonishment.

“Why?” she was wary now, slowly backpedalling, retracing her steps. All the light and humour had vanished.

“I won’t hurt you,” Jonas pleaded. “I didn’t know... I honestly didn’t know you were a Guardian. I just wanted to see you. I’m not like the others,” he finished pathetically. Monique stopped, her instinct telling her to run, but the compassionate, kind-hearted, human part of her that had ruled her head for fifteen years, implored her to stay. Jonas looked like a lost little boy and cruelty was not in Monique’s nature.

“I think you should tell me how you got here,” she instructed gently.

He explained it then; how he had entered the City; that his father had found it and that he honestly did not know what their next move would be.

“I thought it was a myth. All this time I thought my dad was chasing a dream... until today.” Monique took his hand in her own and Jonas smiled, the delicate pale fingers tugging at his heartstrings. His hand was almost twice the size of hers.

“What will they do, now that they’ve found Summerfeld?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m glad that they did. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he admitted, keeping his eyes fixed on their entwined fingers. “And now that I’ve found you, I don’t want to say goodbye. I want to see you again.” She smiled shyly, her lips curling up and pink spots rising on her cheeks.

“Are you allowed to leave?” Jonas asked.

“I am, actually. Quinn... one of the others... she got permission.”

“Then meet me,” Jonas was clutching at straws, but even a little hope was better than none at all.

“Monique?” Camille’s voice called and Monique leapt up as though she had been burned.

“In town; there’s an internet cafe,” Jonas whispered urgently. “I’ll be there everyday after school. Come as soon as you can.”

Monique nodded, hearing a branch crunch underfoot, far too close. Turning towards the sound she saw her mother approaching, holding Jack and Ava by the hands.

“Oh, there you are,” Camille smiled, “didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“No, sorry, mom.” Monique feigned ignorance. Glancing back at the place where Jonas had stood a moment ago, she found only an empty clearing.

“Well, let’s get back, these two need to eat something.” Camille turned back towards the Cathedral and Monique followed in her wake. She scanned the trees as they walked, but she saw no sign of the boy who had gone to so much trouble to find her.

Chapter 9

“Are you okay?” Drake asked again, having received no response to his first enquiry. Quinn’s shoulder was weeping blood, even as the soft wool of her sweater absorbed most of it. Quinn gazed up at him incredulously, at a loss for words. In the light of day he looked younger, less menacing and far more human. He was still holding her hand, the stake pressing into it, and his eyes were so close to hers that she noticed flecks of blue in the brilliant green. Suddenly her legs felt weak and he supported her, intending to help her sit, when her legs simply buckled beneath her.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, holding her around the waist, “you’re okay.”

Her recent brush with death had drained Quinn of all her energy but, even more than that, she couldn’t bring herself to speak because seeing him, standing out in the sun as bold as anything, was impossible.

“Quinn?” he shook her gently, trying to snap her out of her stupor. He could smell her blood and he breathed slowly through his mouth, trying to block out the sweet scent.

“You’re in the sun,” she mumbled eventually, her eyes widening in fear as realisation dawned. “Oh my God, you’re in the sun. I was wrong before... I thought you might be Aleksei, but you’re not... You’re Julian,” she gasped.

“I think you’ve lost a little too much blood,” he replied, not unkindly, as he lowered her to the ground. Her shoulder was still bleeding but it would heal soon enough. Breathing in deeply through her nose, she exhaled through her mouth, gazing up through the canopy of trees. The sunlight filtering through the leaves danced across her face. She had no idea how long she lay there, but slowly the hysteria drained away.

Eventually, Drake spoke. “How are you feeling?’

She turned to find him sitting a few feet away.

“Like I just got mauled by a vampire.”

“Very funny.”

Pulling herself into a sitting position she clapped a hand to her shoulder to stem the slow oozing.

“I’m not Julian,” Drake announced, his words echoing through the trees around them. Quinn stared at him, trying to figure out whether he was lying.

“You have to be, there’s no other explanation.”

“Julian is dead, Quinn. Eldon killed him, remember? So, unless you believe in ghosts, I’m not him.”

“Julian was the only daywalker ever created,” she pointed out.

“Really? You believe that bullshit?” he scoffed, once again ridiculing the Sacred Book and all of its teachings. With a pang she recalled the day she had told him that Julian was an abomination, and her cheeks flushed with mortification as he continued. “Do you really think that Enah was the only Faery to ever love a vampire?” Quinn’s eyes widened in surprise as he continued, “You really don’t give my kind enough credit.”

“You... you’re telling me you were in love with a Fae woman?”

“I didn’t say that,” he sneered. “I said that a Fae woman loved me.”

“Where is she now?” Quinn asked. To her knowledge, all of the Fae were secured within Summerfeld.

“She’s dead.” She suspected he was telling the truth, or parts of it, at least.

“How many of you are there? That can walk in the sun?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never met another daywalker, but it’s not something that we would bandy about. Not even Genevieve knows.”

“Genevieve,” Quinn hissed, and the thought of the vampire filled her with rage, enough to send the blood rushing back to her head. “Genevieve set that mob on me. I’m going to kill her!” Drake got to his feet too and Quinn tried to push past him, but in one swift motion he scooped her off the ground again, halting her progress.

“Put me down.”

“No.”

“Put me down, Drake. Now!”

“You’re not going to kill Genevieve,” he drawled.

“Why not? Because you don’t want to lose your girlfriend? Well, here’s a newsflash for you, I don’t really care about your love life. She-tried-to-kill-me! Does that mean nothing to you?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he asked.

“Yes,” Quinn nodded. “You’re here. Thank you,” she added suddenly, her anger giving way to gratitude. “You saved my life.”

“Again,” he pointed out wryly. She seemed calm enough so he set her back on her feet. “You can’t kill Genevieve – not only because she means something to me, but because I think she may have information that we need. About your sister,” he added.

“Do you think she had something to do with my sister’s murder?” Quinn demanded, the thought occurring to her.

“No,” he admitted, “I’ve already told you that I don’t think your sister was killed by vampires, but Genevieve is very involved in the Quest, and if anyone knows anything, she should.”

“Why haven’t you asked her, then?”

“She’s been away. And she’s tricky. I know how to handle her but it’s going to take some time.”

“So, you’re just going to jump back into her bed even though she tried to kill me?”

A smug smile stretched across his face.

“Are you jealous, Quinn?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she snapped. “I’m with Tristan now.”

Drake’s eyes bored into her as though trying to decipher the truth.

“Do you love him?”

“I... I don’t want to discuss this with you. And I should get back – he’ll be beside himself with worry. We’re leaving today,” she added.

“Back to the City?”

“Yes.” Quinn hesitated. Drake had saved her life again, and he had proven to her over and over that he could be trusted. “There’s a town called New Haven... it's a two day trip north of here. If you need me, you’ll find me there.” New Haven was dangerously close to Cliffdale but Quinn needed to be able to see him – to discuss things. It wasn’t safe over the phone.

“That’s a big secret to divulge to a vampire,” Drake drawled. “Be careful, Quinn, I might start to believe you have a little faith in me.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m sitting on a bigger secret.” She glanced up at the sun again.

“You cannot tell a soul,” Drake warned menacingly. “You and I have come to an understanding, Quinn, but know that I will kill you if I have to, to protect this secret.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” she vowed. “But you keep Genevieve away from me, and away from New Haven. If I see her anywhere near that town I’ll stake her. You have my word.”

Chapter 10

“Quinn! Thank God!” Tristan practically jerked her into the house, relief emanating from him. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”

“Sorry,” she prayed he couldn’t see the dried blood on her dark sweater. The wound had healed, and she had cleaned herself up as best she could. She held up the brown bag she was carrying. “I went to get us breakfast and got side-tracked.”

“Side-tracked?”

“I went to say goodbye to Sarah. Why don’t you start with this,” she dumped the bag into his arms, “while I take a shower.”

The hot water scalded Quinn’s skin, a welcome pain that washed away the blood and the taint of the vampires who had attacked her. As her skin turned pink from the heat, she closed her eyes, the sight of Drake standing in the sun burned into her mind. In the fleeting instant when the others had begun to burn, she had felt a fear unlike she had ever known. She had thought he would burn, right alongside them, and it had crucified her. It was still impossible to comprehend that Drake was a daywalker. Even after having seen it with her own eyes Quinn was having trouble accepting the fact. Mindlessly, she soaped up her hair, trying to isolate how she felt about Drake.

“You need any help with that?” a low voice asked, and she jumped, startled.

“Tristan!” she gasped, ashamed that she had all but forgotten him. She had taken the next step with Tristan and here she was, less than forty-eight hours later, thinking about another man. He’s not a man, she scolded herself, he’s a vampire. Still, she shook her head at Tristan, turning away so that he couldn’t see the guilt in her eyes.

Straight after breakfast they left Brookfield in separate cars. Quinn was grateful for the reprieve. She didn’t want to hurt Tristan but she needed some time to process everything that had happened. If he sensed she was distant from him that morning, he didn’t show it, laughing and joking as he always had. Quinn felt bad for not saying goodbye to Sarah, but she could hardly do so when she had told Tristan she had said her farewell earlier. She figured her friend would assume that she was off on another business trip and she would be back when she was back.

They made good time, but still had to spend one night in a motel. Like a bad cliché, when Tristan emerged from the bathroom, Quinn feigned sleep. Ever the gentleman, Tristan did not wake her. Instead, he climbed into bed beside her and wrapped his arms around her in a protective gesture which made her feel even worse.

Arriving at Summerfeld very late in the evening, Quinn did not have the opportunity to speak to Isaiah straight away. Instead, she was informed bright and early the following morning, by a positively euphoric Monique, that one of the Chumana eggs was hatching. Quinn, who was older and wiser than the optimistic girl, knew immediately that something was wrong. Racing over to Kellan’s she found him in the shed in a dour mood. Quinn could see which egg was the cause for concern – a long, thin crack ran along one length of it, from top to base.

“It’s too soon?” she asked quietly, and Kellan nodded.

“They need a few more weeks at least.”

“Could it survive?” Quinn watched as the egg gave a tiny jerk and rolled to one side where it lay absolutely still. Mindful of Monique, who had just entered the shed behind them, Kellan gave an imperceptible shake of his head.

“Did I miss it? Has it hatched yet?” Monique asked, grinning from ear to ear. Camille rushed in alongside her looking frazzled.

“Tristan just arrived to see the kids,” she huffed, “I thought I’d come and see if I could help.” Quinn was touched by her offer but she sensed there was more to it than that.

“Monique,” Quinn got to her feet, pulling the young girl aside. “It’s not good news.”

“What do you mean?”

“The eggs aren’t ready. They shouldn’t be hatching yet. That baby won’t survive.”

“Of course it will!” Monique insisted, with all the assurance of someone so young. Someone who had not experienced loss before.

“It won’t,” Quinn murmured as Camille came to stand beside Monique. “It’s too young.”

“No,” Monique shook her head in denial. “It’s going to be fine – you wait and see.” And with that, she stepped past Kellan and, despite everyone leaping forward to stop her, she scooped the cracked Chumana egg up in her arms and took a seat, depositing it gently on her lap.

Camille could hardly fail to have noticed the gasps of horror around her and she looked hastily between Kellan and Quinn. Neither could take their eyes off the burnt orange egg.

“Is that bad?” Camille asked.

“Uh...” Quinn looked to Kellan for affirmation.

“The hatchling won’t survive,” he soothed, eliciting a snort of derision from Monique. “It doesn’t matter.”

“And if it does?” Quinn pointed out wryly.

“What?” Camille interjected. “What if it does survive?”

Quinn pursed her lips to keep from smiling as Kellan stepped forward to explain it to Camille.

“Dragons are much like birds. They use the same parental recognition method - called filial imprinting.” Camille looked blank. “Basically, with birds, the hatchling will bond with the first large, moving object it sees. It has to be both, because their fellow nestlings are too small, but a tree doesn’t move. You follow?”

“Yes,” Camille nodded, but she was still completely at a loss as to his point.

“Well, with dragons the situation is only slightly different. Once hatching has commenced, the dragon can connect through the egg membrane. As only a breeding mother is ever near the cluster, this would ordinarily be the first large moving form that the dragon senses.”

“So?”

“Well, this hatchling’s egg has already cracked. And Monique is the first person to handle it...” he trailed off, wondering if Camille would ever catch on.

“Basically, Monique will be that hatchling's mama,” Quinn said.

Camille did not respond for a full minute, but her face changed from blind ignorance, to understanding, to outrage.

“What?” she roared.

“Yeah,” Quinn winced. “Not exactly the grandchild you envisioned.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kellan tried to ease her concerns. “That hatchling will never survive – it’s too early. I give it a couple of days at most once it’s fully emerged.”

“You’re wrong,” Monique called from her position on the floor. “He’s a fighter, just wait and see.”

“This thing with the dragons is too much,” Camille whined when the three of them emerged from the shed to speak privately, leaving Monique to the egg. “She’s been riding them, too.”

“Really?” Quinn realised the moment she said it that her lively curiosity was not the response Camille had been hoping for. Quinn couldn’t help but be fascinated. She had never encountered a dragon rider personally – a Guardian who could communicate with the fiery beasts and calm them to the point of physical contact without injury.

“She burnt her arm two days ago,” Camille continued. “She tried to hide it, of course, but I walked in when she was in the bath.”

“Is it bad?”

“No,” she admitted reluctantly, “it’s small – about the size of my palm. I took her over to Freya, who said it was only a mild burn. But that’s not the point.”

“Actually, it is,” Quinn pointed out. “Honestly, Camille, if the dragons wanted to harm her Monique would have been burnt to a crisp.” Seeing Camille’s expression, she quickly continued, “A small burn is probably just a result of nuzzling. You know how when a horse nuzzles your neck you sometimes end up with a trail of slime across your shoulder?” Camille nodded, but it was clear that she didn’t consider the comparison a very good one. “Well, it’s kind of like that... only instead of slime, there’s fire,” Quinn finished lamely.

“What Quinn is trying to say,” Kellan interrupted, “is that they won’t hurt Monique. In fact, just the opposite – they’ll protect her – and I can prove it, if it makes you feel any better.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Tristan grumbled over an hour later, shaking out his arms and legs as if he were about to compete in a professional sprint.

“Your sister needs to see it,” Quinn reminded him. She was looking forward to seeing it for herself, actually, but she didn’t relish the imminent dragon attack. “Besides, this is going to work.”

“Are you ready?” Kellan called from where he stood with Camille, a few feet away. Quinn squinted up at the mountain. She could only barely discern Monique, who was still climbing. A loud flapping sound reached them as a monstrous Orochian, fiercest of all the dragon species, landed on the ledge just above her. Quinn thought Camille might black out right there and then.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Tristan groaned. Quinn would also have preferred a less aggressive adversary, but she was too enchanted by what she was seeing to really mind. The Orochian gazed down at Monique as she climbed, completely unconcerned by the Guardian’s close proximity. Monique pulled herself up onto the ledge, sitting right beside the giant beast.

“Is she talking to it?” Camille squeaked, and, sure enough, Quinn could see Monique’s antics as she gestured with her hands, no doubt having an animated, one-sided conversation with the most dangerous dragon on Earth. As they watched she shifted closer and then, unbelievably, Monique rested her head against the Orochian’s powerful back leg. The ugly black head dipped down, and Quinn stared, enthralled, as the blunt snout butted against Monique’s head in a sign of obvious affection.

“Ready?” Kellan asked again, breaking the spell, and both Quinn and Tristan nodded.

“If this doesn’t work, you get out of there,” Kellan warned.

“Really, Kellan? I thought maybe we’d hang around and let it set our asses on fire,” Tristan retorted.

“Go,” the Faery grinned and Quinn shot forward, Tristan right behind her. They ran towards the ledge where Monique sat and, just before they passed underneath it, Monique let out a bloodcurdling scream. Even though it was part of the plan, the terrified sound made the hairs on Quinn’s neck stand on end.

The screech that followed made Monique’s cry sound like a whisper. It reverberated off the rock around them and filled Quinn’s head, the sound seeming to go right through her entire body. The Orochian dived straight off the ledge, rocketing down towards them with single-minded purpose. Quinn and Tristan dived to the left only just in time as a jet of fire blasted the rock where they had stood just a second before.

“Son of a bitch!” Tristan cursed, patting his left sleeve which had caught alight. “If she can’t call it off, we’re in serious trouble!” They had reached the edge of the plateau and there was nowhere left to run. The Orochian had swooped and was now climbing again, its great wings flapping rhythmically. Quinn and Tristan watched as it passed where Monique sat perched on the ledge. As it rose above her, the ugly black body turning in mid-air to attack again, Monique let out a low, melodious whistle, as if calling a dog. The Orochian’s response was immediate. Dropping down slowly, it came to settle back on the ledge beside her, looking for all the world as if it had never left.

Tristan and Quinn beamed at one another.

“That was amazing,” Quinn quipped.

“Unbelievable,” he agreed, craning his neck to look up at Monique, who was climbing down the rock face again, the hideous beast above watching over her.

Having proven a point to her traumatised mother, Monique went straight back to Kellan’s shed to check on the Chumana egg. It looked exactly the same as when she had left it.

“It takes days to fully emerge,” Kellan explained. “If it hatches at all.” Secretly he wondered if the hatchling hadn’t already died. It was a tragic loss, but all he could do now was focus on the remaining seven precious eggs. He had moved them closer to the burner, and was keeping it lit day and night, trying to ensure that the eggs stayed as warm as possible, and he was setting them one by one in the fire itself, twice a day. The breeding mother would frequently breathe fire over the cluster, and this was the closest he could get to replicating that natural scenario.

“Quinn,” Monique caught up to her as she was heading back towards the fountain. She would not put off her conversation with Isaiah again.

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering,” Monique began hesitantly. “Do you think we could go into town tomorrow afternoon? I’d like to do some online research on the dragon eggs.” The Cathedral had no internet. Piper, the Guardian’s official researcher, spent most of her days outside of the City’s magical enchantments, connecting to various secure servers that they had set up.

“Monique, you do know that everything you find online will be a load of hogwash, don’t you? If it’s reliable dragon information you’re after you should look in the record room.”

“I know, but I also want to check my emails,” Monique admitted sheepishly.

“Ah,” Quinn nodded. “You can’t let anyone know where you are, though.”

“I know. Mom contacted everyone when we first arrived – she said we moved out of town. I promise I’ll stick to that story.”

“Monique,” Quinn wasn’t sure how to broach the topic, Monique being so young, but she had to hear it sometime. “You know your friends are going to get older... they’re going to age and get sick. And you’re going to be like this for a very long time. Maybe it's better that you just forget about the people you knew before.” Monique’s lip quivered and Quinn felt rotten. “Look, you don’t have to cut all ties right away,” she offered, “just keep it in mind.” Monique nodded tremulously.

“So, you’ll take me, then? Tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Quinn agreed, seeing no reason not to.

“Are you going to the Cathedral now?” Monique asked as they reached the fountain.

“Yes.”

“I’ll come with you. I’d like to visit the record room anyway – there might be something in there that could help the hatchling.”

Ten minutes later Monique was ensconced in the record room surrounded by all the books that Isaiah had fetched for her. Closing the record room door behind him, he took a seat opposite Quinn at the council table.

“What is it you wanted to see me about, Quinn?” he asked politely. There was no easy way to say it, so Quinn cut straight to the chase before she had a change of heart.

“I want you to exhume Avery’s body.”

If Isaiah was surprised he didn’t show it.

“That’s a very big request. Can I ask why you would want to do such a thing?” Guardians were laid to rest in a small cemetery just outside the north entrance of the Cathedral, although their graves were seldom visited. Guardians preferred to remember how their friends had lived, as opposed to how they had died. They celebrated their lives and did not dwell on the past. Avery’s body, however, was there – in a shallow grave with a humble headstone that read only “Until we meet again”. Tristan had chosen the inscription and Quinn had reluctantly approved.

“I have reason to believe that Avery may not have been killed by a vampire,” she admitted.

“Do you know something I don’t?” Isaiah asked, his liquid amber eyes never leaving her face.

“I’m not sure,” she replied, “but I need to know for certain.”

“Quinn, I examined Avery’s body the night Tristan brought it back here. She was bitten. Vampires killed your sister.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Quinn began, “but I’m asking you to do this anyway.” She knew what she was asking him to do and it pained her. Exhuming Avery’s decomposed remains was not for the faint-hearted. It gave Quinn the chills just considering it, but she had to know. Steeling herself, she continued – her request not done yet, “And I want you to keep it between us.”

Isaiah drew in a stunned breath.

“Quinn, Tristan and your father have a right to know. Avery was just as much a part of their lives as she was yours.”

“I understand that,” Quinn agreed, wholeheartedly, “but I don’t want to cause them unnecessary heartache. If nothing comes of it, I would prefer them to remain blissfully unaware.”

“And, of course, you are concerned that they will deny your request?”

“I’m absolutely certain that they would,” she admitted. “But what if I’m right?” she leaned across the table, her eyes meeting his with no compunction. “Don’t you think we need to know the truth?”

Isaiah had always admired and respected Quinn – more so than any other Guardian, save for Daniel. She was fierce and didn’t conform to the rules, but she had more passion, more intuition than any of the others, himself included, and her tenacity was inspiring.

“All right,” he nodded eventually, breaking the silence. “I’ll do it myself.”

“I can help,” she offered immediately. “I don’t expect you to do this alone.”

“And I don’t expect you to witness your sister’s unearthed remains,” he replied grimly. “Thank you for the offer, but as I said... I’ll do it myself.”

Chapter 11

Jonas stared at the screen before him, seeing nothing. He had been coming every day hoping that Monique would show, but so far there had been no sign of her. Jonas couldn’t believe his dumb luck. Of all the people in the world he had made a connection with a Guardian. His father would throw a fit if he knew, as if things between them weren’t strained enough already.

Despite Balthazar’s confidence, Jonas had asked Rowena to leave the camp, but she had declined.

“I can’t leave him,” she had murmured under her breath, “and I certainly can’t leave you.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jonas had offered, prepared to make the sacrifice if it meant she was okay. Even if it meant leaving Monique, much as the thought pained him.

“That’s sweet of you, Jonas,” Rowena had smiled indulgently, “but this is my home. This is our family.”

“How can you say that after what he’s done to you?”

“Your father was provoked,” she admitted. “I hurt him very deeply. I am as much to blame as he is.”

“What did you do?” he demanded, but she would say nothing further.

“Hey,” Monique’s voice interrupted, and Jonas started in his chair, gazing up at her in delight.

“You came!”
“I did.”

“Are you alone?”

“Not really,” she gestured through the window. Across the street, Jonas picked out her mother, and a startlingly attractive brunette who Jonas assumed was another Guardian. “They said I have an hour,” Monique explained. She took a seat beside him and he turned his chair to face her. Jonas was content simply to watch her, but Monique’s natural chattiness soon surfaced and they fell into an easy, natural conversation.

All too soon Monique glanced at her watch, which conveniently covered her tattoo.

“I better go before they come looking for me,” she sighed. Her obvious disappointment filled Jonas with hope.

“We’re having our monthly bonfire tomorrow,” he said. “Please come.”

“Tomorrow?” Monique frowned. “I don’t know... I don’t think I’ll be able to...”

“Just try, please. I can meet you here, show you the way.”

“I’m not allowed out after dark.”

“That’s not a problem, it starts at noon. You can stay a couple of hours and be gone before sundown. Please,” he repeated.

“I can try,” Monique would not make a promise she couldn’t keep. Jonas considered this, and then his face lit up as another idea struck him.

“What if I...”

“Monique?” Too late, they realised that Camille was standing right beside them. Surprisingly she didn’t look angry - in fact, she looked almost amused.

“Mom!” Monique blushed, “What are you doing here?”

“More to the point, what are you doing here?” Camille teased. “I’m Camille,” she added, extending her hand towards Jonas, “Monique’s mother.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jonas shook her proffered hand, “my name is Jonas.”

Camille looked between the two of them, her face alight with curiosity.

“Are you done?” Quinn’s voice intruded as she punched something into her phone and Monique cringed.

Finishing her message, Quinn slipped the phone into her jacket pocket and glanced up. Her eyes swept over Monique and came to rest on Jonas. She took in the shabby clothes and the overlong hair and in a split second she recognised him for what he was. The look that she gave him would have intimidated a lesser man, but, to Jonas’s credit, he met her gaze unflinchingly.

“Hello,” he got to his feet, respectfully, and extended his hand. “I’m Jonas.”

“Quinn,” she replied softly, her eyes searching his face for any sign that he knew what she was.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jonas kept his voice steady, determined not to give her any reason to distrust him. “I was just inviting Monique to a get-together tomorrow. Of course, you’re both more than welcome to attend, too.”

“A party?” Camille’s eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline. “How exciting!”

Monique wanted to crawl under the table in mortification.

“Camille,” Quinn smiled, “could you take Monique outside and wait for me there?” Monique stalked out before Camille could answer and she hastened after her daughter, banging into a desk near the door in the process.

“How do you know Monique?” Quinn asked pleasantly when she and Jonas were alone.

“We met at a gas station a few weeks ago and then again here.”

“And this party... where is it?”

“In the woods, not far from here. I’m happy to meet you here and I can direct you.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think Monique will be able to make it.”

“Why not?” His disappointment was genuine. “Please, I’d really like her to be there. She’s the only person my age I’ve met here. I’m sure it’s the same for her. It’s nothing untoward – it’s just a bonfire.”

“You’re a gypsy, right?”

“Yes,” he set his jaw stubbornly, as if waiting to defend himself.

“What are you doing here, in New Haven?”

“Just passing through,” he offered the standard gypsy reply.

“Hmmm,” Quinn mused. Either Jonas was exceptionally good at hiding his feelings or he honestly didn’t know who she was. She was inclined to believe the latter – a gypsy could not detect a Guardian.

The Guardians believed that the gypsy convoy had moved on but Jonas had confirmed this was not the case. Instead, they were right here, on Summerfeld’s doorstep. As much as Quinn didn’t want Monique anywhere near them, this was an opportunity to find out how much they knew and why they were hanging around.

“I’ll think about it,” Quinn relented eventually.

“I’ll be here from eleven,” he promised, trying and failing to hide the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“I really want to go,” Monique implored. Camille had gone to fetch Jack and Ava from Tristan and Quinn was walking Monique back to Kellan’s.

“You know he’s a gypsy?” Quinn suspected that Monique did, but she wouldn’t necessarily know what it meant. Isaiah hadn’t gotten that far with her studies yet.

“Yeah,” Monique confirmed, “so what?”

“Monique, the gypsies have always searched for Summerfeld. They are a threat to every creature that we are sworn to protect.”

“Jonas isn’t like that,” Monique insisted, “he’s... nice.”

“He likes you,” Quinn acceded, “that’s plain to see and he seems like a nice boy, but the fact remains that he is an enemy of Summerfeld.”

“I thought vampires were our only enemies.”

“The gypsies are not as dangerous and certainly not as cunning, but they cannot be allowed to find the City.”

Monique stared at her feet, terrified that Quinn would read the truth in her face, that the gypsies had already found Summerfeld. Monique was torn between her allegiance to the Guardians and wanting to protect her friend.

“I won’t tell him if that’s what you’re worried about,” she mumbled, crossing her fingers behind her back. Quinn didn’t answer.

“I think it’s a fantastic idea,” Camille gushed when she and Tristan returned with the children. This was exactly what she had wanted – for Monique to have normal teenage experiences.

“It’s a terrible idea!” Tristan argued. “You want to take your daughter into a gypsy camp... complete with no running water and love potions and all that other voodoo nonsense.”

“It’s not voodoo,” Camille laughed, “it’s just herbs and natural remedies.”

“Not to mention the fact that these people are looking for Summerfeld. They’re basically looking for us.”

“Quinn said that they won’t know,” Camille sobered instantly at his ominous tone. “You said they wouldn’t know,” she insisted, turning to Quinn.

“They won’t,” Quinn assured her. “There’s no way they would suspect anything and no way for them to identify us so long as we keep our tattoos covered.” She held up her arm, complete with a thick silver bracelet that completely hid any trace of her tattoo. Seeing the expectant, hopeful faces staring back at her she heaved a sigh.

“I’ll speak to Isaiah.”

Chapter 12

“I see you’ve found another accomplice in your uncle,” Isaiah teased Monique as they passed through the Gateway the following day. Monique grinned up at Tristan, who had agreed to come along at Quinn’s request. Quinn preferred to have back-up, especially since Camille was coming along too. If things went badly, she would need Tristan’s help.

“Just think of it as an exploratory mission – a way to gather information,” Quinn murmured under her breath at him as they approached the internet cafe. Monique and Camille were walking ahead, just out of earshot. “Remember, they don’t know who we are.”

“Is that him?” Tristan narrowed his eyes at a geeky-looking kid with glasses, who couldn’t have been a day over twelve. He clearly didn’t like the idea of his niece having a male friend.

“No,” Quinn muttered, and then, as Jonas emerged from the cafe, half a head taller than Tristan, and infinitely more menacing-looking than the bespectacled boy, she murmured sympathetically, “that’s him.”

To Jonas’s credit his manners were impeccable and he was so obviously delighted to see that they had come. He chatted amiably with Monique the whole way to camp, making sure to include the others too, as he pointed out various plants and birdlife. Despite the happy start, Quinn felt the tension mount in her body as they reached the gypsy settlement.

Rowena was the first to notice the small group entering the clearing. Her initial happiness that Jonas had brought a friend to the bonfire evaporated as her eyes came to rest on Quinn. She recognised her instantly as the Guardian they had followed from the gas station. Her smile died on her lips as she quickly scanned the crowd of gypsies for Balthazar. She spotted him emerging from the trees on the other side of the camp and, lifting her skirts, she quickly ran over to him.

“Balthazar,” she gasped, but he cut her dead.

“I told you to never speak to me again.”

“Look, you fool!” she pointed across to where Jonas was introducing the newcomers. Balthazar frowned in confusion, and she hastily continued. “She’s one of the Guardians, I saw her at the gas station.”

“A Guardian? What is she doing here?”

“She came with Jonas. I think he’s befriended the young girl.” Balthazar could not take Jonas to task for bringing outsiders into their festivities – gypsy parties were open to anyone – the more the merrier, but his son obviously had no idea who these particular people really were or he would never have brought them.

Composing himself, Balthazar pushed past Rowena and crossed the clearing.

“Jonas,” he boomed, “aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Jonas searched his father’s face carefully but found no trace of unease. And as long as Jonas kept the Guardians' true identities hidden, there was no reason to worry.

“This is Monique,” he announced proudly, drawing her forward. The red-headed girl was beautiful, Balthazar noted approvingly. “And this is her mother, Camille,” Jonas continued. Balthazar clasped Camille’s hand warmly. “And her uncle, Tristan.” At this, the only man in the group stepped forward. Balthazar couldn’t be sure, but the presence of a heavy metal wristwatch led him to believe that Tristan could well be a Guardian. He didn’t even bother checking Monique’s wrist – she was far too young. “And Quinn,” Jonas finished.

There was no mistaking this Guardian. Even without Rowena’s advance warning, Balthazar would have known. She was beautiful, but her beauty did not fool him. She carried herself with all the assurance of a true warrior, and her eyes were shrewd and distrustful as she extended her hand towards him.

“Welcome,” he gushed, with all the charm he could muster. “It’s always good to meet new friends.”

“Thank you for having us,” Camille answered for the group, her natural curiosity getting the better of her as she eyed the food being set out on trestle tables and the colourful garb of the gypsy women.

“Would you like to borrow an outfit?” Rowena asked softly, having joined the group. “It does add to the experience.” She smiled politely, even though she could feel the waves of contempt emanating from Balthazar, who refused to acknowledge her.

“This is my mother,” Jonas drawled defiantly, enjoying the look of fury on Balthazar’s face, “Rowena.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Monique threw formality to the wind and stepped forward to hug her. Rowena was unbelievably touched and she squeezed Monique back.

“Come,” she beckoned the three women. Quinn tried to protest but Camille gave her such a stern look that she reluctantly complied. They headed for a large open tent inside which clothing racks were filled to bursting with brightly coloured, albeit rather shabby ensembles.

“Let’s get you a drink,” Balthazar offered, as he, Jonas and Tristan watched them leave. Tristan did not particularly want to drink anything gypsy-made, but given the awkwardness of the situation, he gratefully accepted a home-brewed beer. Nothing would arouse the gypsies’ suspicion more than behaving like an alert Guardian, Quinn had told him. They needed to appear relaxed.

When the three women finally emerged from the tent, Tristan almost didn’t recognise them. Each had a flower behind her ear, and Monique had blooms trailing all down the heavy red braid that was pulled forward over one shoulder. Their outfits were vibrant and sexy – long, heavy skirts and low blouses that tied up the front, with full, soft sleeves. Tristan didn’t think he had ever seen Quinn in a dress before. She looked awkward and her features were too chiselled to really pull it off, but she still drew the eyes of most of the men sitting around the now blazing bonfire. He could see, though, that through her casual facade, Quinn watched everything. She would not drop her guard. He only wished he could pretend as well as she could.

As the afternoon progressed Quinn could see Tristan relaxing, little by little. Despite what they had thought, the gypsies were entertaining, hospitable and quick to laugh. They regaled them with stories and Camille even had a card reading, the results of which she would not disclose, but it seemed to make her happy.

“It’s all rubbish, right?” Quinn asked Rowena as one of the gypsy men bore Camille off to dance. “It’s just fancy guesswork.”

“Some of it,” Rowena smiled. “Some people are easier to read than others. Camille is transparent – what you see is what you get. Unlike you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that you’re harder to read. It’s a compliment,” she added quickly.

Jonas was dancing with Monique. He didn’t remember ever enjoying himself this much, and the more time he spent with her, the more she captivated him.

“Do you think they suspect us?” Monique murmured, casting nervous glances at Balthazar and the other men surrounding him.

“No,” Jonas shook his head.

“Good.” She almost tripped as he twirled her. “You can’t tell them, Jonas. Ever. If your dad found out who we were, I would never be able to see you again.”

“He won’t find out,” Jonas promised.

As the sun lowered on the horizon, Quinn insisted they had to leave. They had already stayed too long and would never make it back before nightfall.

“Please can we stay... just a little bit longer?” Monique begged. Camille, who was thoroughly enjoying herself, sided with her daughter.

“She’s having fun,” she told Quinn and a hovering Tristan. “We won’t stay late. Let her have this – tomorrow she can go straight back to her new life. What is an extra hour or two going to hurt?”

“One hour,” Tristan acceded. Quinn rounded on him in surprise.

“She is only fifteen,” he murmured. “I guess she deserves to have a little fun.”

Secretly Quinn thought that the strength of the gypsy ale had played a large part in his change of heart, but she was only too happy to oblige. Monique reminded her so much of herself, and Quinn had always thought the Guardians were too hard on new recruits. It was even worse for Monique because she was still just a child.

Lost in her own thoughts, Quinn almost missed the tall figure moving like a ghost through the trees. In the instant that she stepped forward he was gone, but she could have sworn it was him.

“Drake,” she murmured.

“What did you say?” Tristan whirled to look at the same spot she was still staring at.

“I thought I saw...”

“The vampire?”

“I must have been seeing things,” she shook her head.

“It’s not quite dark yet,” he pointed out in agreement.

They watched Monique and Camille dancing around the still-blazing fire.

“Will you dance with me, Quinn?” Tristan asked.

Finding no reason to decline, she took his proffered hand, jumping slightly at the jolt of electricity that surged between them when their hands touched. Tristan must have felt it too, because his eyes widened and he stared down at their fingers entwined together.

“Quinn,” he pulled her towards him, placing one hand around her waist, while the other kept a firm grip on her hand. “Why are you fighting this?”

“Fighting what?” she feigned innocence. She had been wrong before. Tristan had sensed her distancing herself.

“This,” he murmured, drawing her close. He was so familiar, his smell, his warmth, the long length of his lean body. Quinn leaned back slightly, giving herself breathing room.

“Do you really think we can just pick up where we left off?” she asked.

“I thought we already had,” he teased, and Quinn felt her cheeks flush before he turned serious once more. “I think we owe it to ourselves to try. And I honestly believe that Avery would want us to be happy.” His words were laden with the sorrow of her loss, but they were also determined.

“How do you know what Avery would want?”

“Because she loved you – more than anything,” he replied simply, “wouldn’t you want the same if the situation were reversed? For two people you loved to find happiness again?”

He was right, Quinn realised. If Avery and Tristan were here now and the roles were reversed, she would want them both to be happy - to find love again and to live their lives without any guilt.

“Maybe you’re right,” she murmured, allowing him to draw her close once more.

“I don’t know about you, but the other night meant a lot to me,” he murmured into her hair.

“It meant a lot to me, too,” she replied automatically.

They danced in silence for a few minutes and then the music changed tempo and an upbeat song replaced the slow dance number they had been moving to. Smiling, Tristan took Quinn’s hand and started to spin her – this way and that - until she was worried she might burst out of her dress. Laughing, they dipped and weaved, his boyish charm so familiar and endearing that Quinn found herself reconsidering every reason she had to doubt their relationship. When the music slowed once more, she turned to make her way back to the side of the clearing, but Tristan pulled her back and she collided with his chest. His warm arms encircled her waist and his open, honest face stared down at her.

Slowly, Quinn moved her face up towards his. She could feel the rapid rhythm of his heart drumming beneath her fingertips. And then, just as she closed her eyes, a warm hand trailed down her bare back and took hold of her right hand. Before she could even register that both of Tristan’s hands were still placed firmly around her waist, she was pulled into a spin, away from Tristan and into Drake’s arms.

Chapter 13

Quinn hadn’t even realised the sun had fully set. Tristan stepped forward angrily, his irritation turning to outrage as he sensed the vampire’s presence, but he could hardly attack Drake in the crowd without giving their identities away and he could not risk Drake reacting violently. There were too many innocent lives at stake.

“What are you doing?” Quinn asked, staring up at Drake. She quickly shook her head at Tristan as he took two long strides towards them, warning him not to make a scene.

“Take your hands off her, demon,” Tristan growled, his hands flexing into fists at his sides.

“She will come to no harm with me,” Drake replied coolly. “And I will return her to you shortly.”

“Let go of her,” Tristan repeated. He could not bear the sight of his mortal enemy’s hands on Quinn’s body.

“Tristan, it's fine. This is Drake, who I told you about. Drake, this is Tristan.” The two men eyed one another with mutual enmity. “We don’t need a scene,” Quinn warned. “Tristan, go and find your sister. I think it’s time to get going.”

“What if he...”

“Tristan,” she hissed, “I can handle this!”

“If you touch her,” Tristan warned.

“I think we should let the lady decide,” Drake retorted arrogantly, before sweeping Quinn away through the crowd in an elaborate waltz.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Quinn asked, keeping an eye on Monique. She trusted Drake, but she was still responsible for Monique, and she was not sure his resolve could stand the temptation of such a young, defenceless Guardian.

“I mean the young redhead no harm,” Drake murmured, following her gaze. Of course he had already worked out what Monique was.

“What do you want?”

“Have you exhumed your sister’s body yet?”

“How do you know...?”

“It’s what I would do. It’s the only way to test my theory.”

“I still think you’re wrong, but I’ll have an answer soon - one way or another. But that’s not why you’re here,” she pointed out. He could have simply called if he had wanted to ask about Avery.

“No,” he admitted, “it’s not.” Quinn didn’t know if it was her imagination, but his hand seemed to tighten around her waist and his long fingers increased their pressure on her hand. Staring at her without a hint of embarrassment he seemed to be searching for something. And then his usually indifferent expression morphed into one of tenderness. “I lied,” he murmured.

“You lied?”

“Yes. I told you you should be with Tristan. I was wrong. You don’t belong with him.”

“Really?” Quinn’s breath caught in her throat because she knew where he was going, but she posed the question anyway, “And where do I belong?” His lips curled up in a small smile.

“With me.” The words were so direct that Quinn missed a step and tripped towards him. Expertly he caught her, his hands pinning her arms to her side.

“You’re crazy,” she muttered, but she didn’t resist as he kept moving, towards the edge of the clearing and into the trees. Only when they were deep in the woods did he release her.

“I don’t know why, but I cannot get you out of my head, Quinn,” he admonished, as if it were her fault. “And I know you feel something for me too.” His eyes dared her to deny it.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” she replied automatically, playing right into his hands. “The point is, I’m a Guardian and you’re a vampire. Nothing can ever...”

“So, because you have been taught that it’s wrong, we should just deny the way we feel?”

“I don’t know how I feel.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No,” she insisted, “I don’t. Besides, you’re with Genevieve, and I’m with Tristan...”

“Why are you so determined to fight this?” He pointedly ignored the mention of the others. They were irrelevant.

“Because it’s wrong.”

“According to who?”

“Everyone!” she raised her hands in exasperation.

“You know, Quinn, this is exactly why I abandoned the Quest,” he murmured. “I was tired of being told what to do... told what to believe... told who to love.” That last part triggered something in Quinn’s memory.

“Does this have anything to do with her,” she asked, “with the Fae woman who...?”

“That has nothing to do with this. I’m talking about you and me.”

“And I told you; I’m a Guardian and you’re a vampire. I’m not having this conversation.”

“So that’s your decision?” he sounded angry, and oddly disappointed.

“Yes,” she nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

“You really have been brainwashed.”

“I have not! I happen to believe in it all!”

“Then tell me,” he retorted coolly, “if I was just an ordinary man and you were just an ordinary woman... what would your answer be then?”

Quinn’s mouth opened to reply but no words came out. Drake’s question had thrown her and she honestly didn’t have the answer.

“That’s what I thought,” he narrowed his eyes. “I thought you had more backbone than that, Quinn. Obviously I was wrong. Go,” he added, sweeping his arm in the direction of the camp. “Go and be with your Guardian, if that’s where you believe you belong.”

“I’ll... I’ll let you know what I learn about my sister,” she muttered as she brushed past him.

By the time she returned to the bonfire, Tristan had rounded up Camille and Monique.

“What happened?” he demanded, striding forward to meet her.

“Nothing,” Quinn cast a surreptitious glance around. “He just wanted to talk.”

“About Avery?”

“Keep your voice down!” Quinn hissed. Monique was not far behind.

“Quinn...”

“Later,” she insisted. “We’ve been too long already. It’s time to go.”

She bade a quick farewell to Rowena, nodding absentmindedly as the woman asked if she would be seeing them again, before their group set out through the trees.

They were less than half a mile from the camp when they heard the screaming. Monique and Camille had their heads together, discussing the day’s events and Tristan and Quinn walked in silence, not wanting to mention Drake in front of Camille, for fear of alarming her. Quinn knew they would discuss it, though. She could tell by the angry set of Tristan’s jaw that he would not just let it go. When the screaming began, it was the high cries of a woman, followed by deep male laughter. Quinn turned back towards the camp in alarm.

“Leave it,” Tristan grabbed her wrist.

“Someone’s in trouble!”

“They’re gypsies,” he reminded her. The gypsies were none of their concern – Monique and Camille were. Quinn deliberated only a second before making her decision.

“Get these two back to Cliffdale.”

“Quinn, don’t be stupid. It’s none of our business!”
“Go,” Monique interrupted, “Jonas is back there,” she added, by way of explanation. “Please... make sure they’re all okay.”

Quinn didn’t wait to hear anymore. Sprinting back the way they had come she heard the screams getting louder as she approached the camp.

Bursting into the clearing she saw the entire gypsy community gathered around the bonfire. Nearby, Jonas was holding back a wild-eyed Rowena, who was struggling to break free of his vice-like grip, her eyes trained on something in the centre of the circle.

“Don’t Rowena,” he pleaded. Quinn stormed through the crush of bodies, pushing men and women roughly aside. When she burst through, the sight that greeted her made her stomach turn.

A big, burly gypsy man was beating a woman who couldn’t be much older than Quinn. Her right eye was swollen and her lip was split, blood dribbling down her chin. Nobody intervened, nobody came to her aid. Revolted, Quinn watched as the man drew his arm back for another blow, and an icy rage consumed her. She couldn’t allow this to happen; to hell with keeping a low profile. As she took a step towards the couple, a commotion on the opposite side of the fire caught her attention.

Drake burst from the edge of the crowd, seizing the back of the gypsy man’s shirt and hurling him backward where he crashed into a few bystanders, knocking them to the ground. Quinn was reminded of the night in Phil’s bar when he had defended another innocent woman. Stalking over to where the man lay on his back, bewildered, Drake sneered down at him. In his fury, he looked dangerous and nowhere near human. The sight of him alone immobilised the thuggish brute, who held up his arms to shield himself. For a horrifying second Quinn thought that Drake would attack again, but instead, he dropped his hands to his sides, exercising extreme self-control.

“Touch her again and I’ll kill you,” he growled. Nobody moved. The entire crowd had fallen silent, staring at Drake with varying emotions. The girl whimpered, and Quinn came to her senses. Stepping forward, she gently touched her shoulder before helping her to her feet.

“Are you okay?” she murmured, unsure of how to help.

“I’ll take her,” Rowena announced, appearing at Quinn’s side. Quinn’s eyes found Jonas’s and he lowered his gaze, humiliation washing over him. Quinn had just witnessed the worst of his people.

Quinn followed Drake as he stalked off. Such was his rage he had not even noticed her. She caught him as he passed a faded red Chevy truck.

“Hey,” she called out, before he could disappear into the trees. “That was a good thing you did back there.”

“For an evil, soulless creature, you mean,” he replied sardonically.

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Drake...”

“Look, Quinn, I get it. But this is exactly why I don’t believe in the myths – the fairytales, the Taboo, the Quest. What Eldon did was pit species against each other in a war that spanned centuries and resulted in nothing but hatred and death.”

“I agree,” her clear voice made his head jerk up. “I agree that Eldon made a mistake in killing Julian. You were right, he did start this war. But I do believe that he realised his mistake and he tried to end the violence by protecting those who remain. I believe in the Guardianship. The innocents who reside within Summerfeld deserve to be defended. If all vampires were like you there would be no need for the City’s existence, but the sad truth is that they’re not like you. They want to wipe out the precious few who remain. And I cannot allow that. My blood will not allow it.”

Drake’s eyes were guarded, unreadable, but he stepped closer to her, reaching for her hand. Moving the thick silver bracelet aside, he traced the lines of her tattoo with his finger.

“What if I told you that I have no desire to harm the creatures within the City?”

“I...” Quinn fumbled over her words. Drake had proven that he would not harm her - or Tristan, or Monique. He had had enough opportunities to do so, but he had never so much as laid a finger on them. He had even steered clear of Rafe, who was a ward of Summerfeld – the single greatest temptation for any vampire intent on the Quest. But he had done all of this at Quinn’s request. How could she be sure that, outside her influence, Drake wouldn’t make a different decision? She would certainly kill other vampires, although she could never bring herself to harm him. “I can’t afford to trust you,” she admitted. “Not with something this important.”

“Perhaps one day, you will,” he replied softly, his fingers still circling her wrist.

The sound of soft footfalls interrupted their quiet solitude and Quinn leapt away from him, pulling down her bracelet. They turned to find Rowena approaching.

“I wanted to thank you,” she addressed Drake in hushed tones, as though fearful of being overheard. “Both of you,” she added, nodding at Quinn. “Sometimes when they drink things get a little out of hand.”

“It’s none of our business,” Quinn replied, “but I am glad we could help, this time.”

Rowena stared at one then the other, a thoughtful look in her eye.

“Do I know you?” Drake’s words took Quinn by surprise.

“I don’t think so,” Rowena replied hesitantly. Drake took in the high cheekbones and warm eyes.

“Jasmine,” he breathed, remembering.

“What did you say?” Rowena stepped forward, stunned. “How do you know that name?”

“He probably heard it from one of the others,” Quinn interjected quickly, but Drake’s next words put paid to her lie.

“You look just like her,” he murmured. Quinn found her heart constrict with inexplicable envy at the fond way he gazed upon Rowena.

“You... you knew her?” Rowena gasped, sounding more delighted than shocked.

“She tried to help me once,” Drake explained. The memory of Charlotte hit him with fresh agony and the smile faded from his lips. Rowena seemed to sense that her ancestor had failed, but, instead of rushing from this place, from an immortal being who should have terrified her, she stepped forward and placed a hand on Drake’s arm.

“Perhaps one day I will be able to succeed where she failed,” she murmured, before stepping away and disappearing into the shadows.

“What was that about?” Quinn asked when they were alone.

“Nothing,” Drake shook his head. “Get out of here, Quinn.”

“I don’t want to leave things like this between us.”

He finally lifted his dark head to meet her gaze. “Like what?”

“With you being mad at me.”

“I’m not angry, Quinn,” he laughed, a low, melancholy sound. “I’m disappointed.”

Balthazar had been conspicuous by his absence during the fight at the bonfire. In truth, he had not witnessed any of it. Instead, he had walked through the woods, wanting to escape the merriment that only served to highlight his unhappiness. Rowena’s betrayal had cut him far more deeply than he was prepared to show and, despite everything, he found himself craving her presence in his life. It crucified him that the other men in camp had had their way with her – Melchior, in particular, had not stopped boasting of his sexual prowess and was strutting around the camp like a prize rooster. Upon his return, Balthazar heard voices up ahead and he took refuge behind a wizened old oak tree to listen.

The conversation between the female Guardian and the man named Drake shocked him to his very core. Drake was a vampire, Balthazar was certain of it. But the fact that a Guardian would converse with such an abomination, never mind befriend one, as Quinn had so obviously done - well, Balthazar would never have believed it if he hadn’t heard it with his own ears. And if she was prepared to give a vampire the benefit of the doubt, then maybe, just maybe, she would be willing to hear him out too.

Chapter 14

Two days later Quinn walked down the dim passage towards the training room. She found that physical exertion was the only thing that cleared her mind, and it was an excuse to be alone. Tristan was angry with her, that much was clear, although he had kept her secret. She loved Tristan deeply, and her feelings for him had been rekindled over the past few weeks. It was logical that they should be together – Tristan was everything she needed. He was strong and kind, and he had the same values, the same beliefs that she did. Drake was wrong for her on every level. He was cruel and could be as cold as ice, but he also challenged her, and every so often he displayed more compassion than any man she had ever met.

To her chagrin, the training room was far from empty. Isaiah had Monique going through her paces, and, to Quinn’s surprise, he had roped Blair and Piper in to help. Piper was sparring with Monique in the centre of the room and Quinn took a seat beside Blair to watch.

“She’s getting better,” Blair nodded towards Monique.

“To be fair, Piper’s not really trying that hard,” Quinn mused after a moment’s consideration.

“Piper’s too soft for her own good.” It wasn’t an insult – Piper was known for being gentle – but simply a statement of fact.

“She can be lethal when she needs to,” Quinn pointed out. “That’s what counts.” Blair regarded her steadily, her eye dropping to Quinn’s naked wrist. She left the wrist watch off within Summerfeld’s realm.

“I always wondered why you weren’t branded,” Blair was thoughtful, “when Garrett was.”

Garrett was the youngest of the Hunters, his black tattoo appearing only a few decades ago.

“I always thought it would be you,” Blair continued. “You have the makings of a Hunter. Avery did, too,” she added respectfully.

“Meaning I could still kick your ass in a fight,” Quinn grinned. Blair scoffed.

“How did you feel,” Quinn asked, “when it turned black?” Blair had been a normal Guardian for less than a century before becoming a Hunter over four hundred years ago.

“It felt right,” she replied. “The instincts were stronger than I expected, and I knew I would miss the wards given how much time we spend in man’s realm, but I just knew it was supposed to be that way. I figure our job is yet another way of keeping them safe, even if it’s from afar. The weirdest part was that I had to go and find my new crystal, the one that belonged to the hunter I replaced. And then this new Guardian arrives and demands my own... he was pretty aggressive about it.”

Quinn laughed. Within their ranks, if a Guardian transformed into a Hunter, their crystals would change hands. A new Guardian could be branded a Hunter immediately, but more often than not Hunters emerged from the existing Guardian ranks, just as in Blair’s case.

“I don’t envy you working with Daniel all day,” Quinn remarked wryly, as Isaiah called her over.

Blair watched Quinn go. She had always admired her, apart from the two years she had turned her back on them. Blair had no ties to the human world. Her parents had been farmers, as had generations of Lindbergs before them, and Blair had grown up in a modest, unassuming farmhouse, surrounded by fields of cane. Together with her older brother they had explored every inch of their family’s land, and Blair could drive a tractor before she could drive a car. She and James had been inseparable, as close as any siblings could be, until he had met Sam - a girl from a nearby farm, the girl he eventually married. At twenty-four, Blair was a bridesmaid at their wedding, through formality, rather than her sister-in-law’s desire to include her. James and Sam had occupied a sweet cottage near the main house on the farm which they would one day take over.

Blair had been devastated to lose James’s affection, and slowly, Sam had driven a wedge between the siblings, jealous of her husband’s devotion to his sister. To be fair, Blair had been a somewhat wild youth, and, on more than one occasion, James had had to leave a bristling Sam to bail Blair out of some or other trouble. More often than not, Blair would convince James to join her, the two stumbling home in the early hours of the morning. It had culminated in a fight causing Sam to issue an ultimatum to her husband. Your sister or me, she had declared. Blair had seen the panic and the pain in her brother’s eyes and realised that he could not choose between them. He was too good, and too loyal. She also knew that Sam would not waver in her decision. She would leave him, and it would be Blair’s fault. Blair couldn’t live with that, and so she had left, leaving just a brief, scribbled note; having made up a story about travelling for a few months. Blair still didn’t know if she would have returned eventually. She never found out, because just a few days after leaving her family behind her tattoo had burned into her wrist and her travelling had ended at the doors of the Cliffdale Cathedral.

She had only ever returned to the farm twice in the centuries since then. Once, simply to gaze upon James’s new-born son, a round, pink baby with James’s dark curly hair. She had snuck past Sam, feet up on the couch downstairs, and had paid a short visit to her nephew. Upon leaving, Blair had glimpsed her brother across the fields, instructing the farmhands. He had glanced in her direction, his body freezing at the sight, but by the time he shouted her name, Blair was gone. She could not go back to that life, not ever, and her family would be happy without her. She had cut all emotional ties, or so she believed. And yet, she had gone back again, entrusting the farm with her most valued possession.

“Blair!” Quinn called loudly, drawing her attention back to the training room. Monique was finished, her face flushed, as she took a swig of water from a ceramic cup. Piper was standing off to the side of the room, smiling at Quinn, who looked excited about something. “You want to test my theory?” Quinn challenged, beckoning Blair forward.

“You’re on,” Blair replied, jogging over to join her.

Isaiah backed away as the two women squared off, both raising their arms in a fighting stance. When they moved, he heard Monique catch her breath beside him. Both Quinn and Blair were exceptional warriors, their skills surpassing those of most of the male Guardians. They dodged and attacked so quickly that it was impossible to discern where their defence ended and offence began. Piper had crossed the room to stand beside the others as they watched.

“I want to be like them when I grow up,’ Monique breathed, mesmerised.

“I don’t think either of us could ever be like them,” Piper mused.

“They are exceptional,” Isaiah agreed, “but then, so are you two. I don’t know anyone who could do your job, Piper, and there is certainly no one among us who could tame the dragons’ hearts as you have done, Monique.” Monique blushed at the compliment.

“Who do you think will win?” she asked, still tracking the blur of chaos before them. Quinn had landed some heavy blows but Blair was countering them well, and she caught Quinn with a sharp stab to her chest.

“Neither,” Isaiah admitted. “Those two will never concede defeat. They’d fight till the death if I allowed it.” He stepped forward to break up Quinn and Blair’s fight, but as Monique watched him go she sensed that, for the first time, Isaiah hadn’t been entirely truthful.

“Who’d really win?” she whispered to Piper, but the older Guardian just smiled, urging her to guess instead.

“Who do you think?”

“Blair... she’s the Hunter, right? So I’d say she’d probably win?”

Piper didn’t correct her, but she didn’t agree either.

Quinn had enjoyed the heat of the fight with Blair but she’d be lying if she said her body wasn’t feeling the effects of Blair’s deadly force. Both women grumbled half-heartedly when Isaiah declared it a tie, but in truth they were grateful for the reprieve. Blair left then to check in with Daniel, and Piper took Monique home. Camille still worried if she was out too long.

Bending to retrieve her sweater which she had discarded before her sparring session, she winced at a shooting pain in her side, compliments of Blair’s mean right hook. She took comfort in the fact that, while not exactly hobbling, Blair had definitely been favouring her left leg as she walked out.

“I have cancelled Monique’s training tomorrow,” Isaiah murmured behind her, keeping his voice low. Pain forgotten, Quinn whirled around.

“Are you...?”

“Yes,” he replied gently. “I must ask that you stay away from the Cathedral tomorrow, Quinn. I insist,” he added, as she opened her mouth to argue. “I will find you when I am done, and let you know what I find.” Knowing that to refuse would simply mean that Isaiah would delay exhuming Avery’s body, Quinn gritted her teeth and nodded.

She woke the following morning after a restless night with an acidic taste in her mouth and a dull, sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t shake. She went to visit Jack and Ava, and then popped in on Freya and baby Sage in an effort to keep her mind off the terrible deed she had asked Isaiah to perform. It was worse for him, she reminded herself, over and over again, guilt washing over her in endless waves at what she had asked of him. It was too late to go back now.

Quinn knew that Freya could sense something was wrong, but she didn’t push it, allowing Quinn to simply be; cradling the infant to her chest like a talisman. Eventually, when she couldn’t bear to sit still for a minute more, Quinn made her way to the cornflower field, enjoying the solitude. She didn’t want her dark thoughts to permeate the serenity of the City.

A screech in the distance caught her attention and she followed the sound to see a dragon venturing farther from Dragon’s Peak than she had ever seen. Quinn smiled as she noticed the tiny figure broadside its back. Monique was obviously taking full advantage of her day off to indulge in her favourite pastime.

“Dragon riding,” Quinn murmured to herself, still in awe. Was Isaiah right? Was everything changing? One Guardian was missing... another was little more than a child. Quinn possessed two of the twelve crystals and she was consorting with a vampire – her mortal enemy.

It had all started with Avery’s death. The moment her sister had left this world, Quinn’s life had started to unravel, starting with her deserting the Guardians to care for Jack and Ava. Everything that had followed since had only served to add to her confusion. For a hundred years she had served Summerfeld and only Summerfeld, putting her own needs aside. She had never thought of it as a burden, it was simply the Guardian way. Now, however, more than ever, she understood the colossal sacrifices she had made. Thinking of those she had sworn to protect she could not regret it, nor would she let any harm come to them. She thought of baby Sage and her resolve hardened. She would protect the wards with her life – as she had always done, but she would also find the answers that she was searching for. She had too many questions, and she would learn the truth, if it killed her.

“Quinn,” Isaiah’s soft voice sounded beside her. His face was troubled, even more so than her own.

“What is it, Isaiah?” Everything else fled from her mind. This was it – the moment of truth.

“I completed the autopsy,” he grimaced at the mere memory and Quinn swallowed down the lump in her throat. She would never be able to repay him for the monstrous task she had asked him to perform. “It was definitely bites that killed her,” Isaiah continued, and Quinn felt her entire body deflate. Drake had been wrong. She had asked this of Isaiah and for nothing! The vampires who murdered her sister were still out there.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, getting wearily to her feet. “I’m sorry I asked you to do it. I just had to be sure.”

“It wasn’t vampires,” he cut across her, his face deadly serious. “The bites cut down to the bone in places. I examined them closely... and they don’t match a vampire’s.”

“What are you saying?” Quinn stammered.

“The bite marks fit another supernatural profile,” he replied gravely, “a werewolf’s. Your sister was killed by wolves.”

Chapter 15

“Quinn, calm down!” Isaiah grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her around to face him. Quinn had crossed the entire cornflower field in a blind rage, completely unaware of where she was going.

“I’m going the wrong way,” she murmured, gathering her thoughts. Her emotions were in turmoil, but one word pounded over and over in her head, a mantra feeding her fury. Caleb.

“I’m going to kill him,” Quinn growled, twisting savagely out of Isaiah’s grasp and heading in the opposite direction. She had been thinking of the wolf, which was why she had headed towards Lunar Grove; but it wasn’t a full moon, Caleb would be safely ensconced in his human home.

“You don’t know that he was involved!” Isaiah stepped out in front of her, blocking her path.

“Who else could it be, Isaiah?” It was true that Quinn had no proof that Caleb had been involved in Avery’s murder, but she didn’t like the new werewolf Alpha one bit, and, as far as she was aware, he was the only wolf who had been outside of Summerfeld when her sister was attacked. It was a logical conclusion that he would be her primary suspect.

“I don’t like him either,” Isaiah seemed to read her thoughts, “but we have to be careful. We have to handle this properly.”

“Handle it?” Quinn gave a half-choked sob. “There is nothing to handle. That bastard has answers and I am going to get them one way or another, right now.”

“Quinn, this is bigger than Avery, don’t you see? The fact that a Guardian had been killed by one of the ten means that the sanctity of the Guardianship has been compromised! We have enemies beyond the vampires!” The frantic tone of his voice scared Quinn, enough to make her pause to listen. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Isaiah shepherded her back towards the woods. “I know you want justice for Avery... believe me, Quinn, I want the same. I loved your sister, she didn’t deserve what happened, but, if we react now, without more information, we could risk a war between the wards. We can’t afford to start a panic, particularly when the Guardianship is so fragile.”

“What do you mean, a war between the wards?”

“Think about it. If we retaliate, or accuse Caleb of a crime he didn’t commit, or that we have no proof of, the whole pack could turn against us.”

“The pack would never...”

“Quinn, you proved it yourself! What is the one thing stronger than the bond between the Guardians and the wards? The bond of family,” he answered, when Quinn remained silent. “And as much as Caleb is a newcomer, he is the Alpha. The pack is his family. They could stand beside him. And if the wolves turned on us, the rest of the wards would be forced to take sides.”

The gravity of that statement was not lost on Quinn. A thousand years ago, King Eldon had placed them in a similar position, forcing them to take sides in a war that almost destroyed them all.

“Your need for vengeance cannot come at the expense of everything we protect,” Isaiah finished, his eyes imploring her to understand. And that was the truth of it. Quinn’s actions could mean the death of the City’s inhabitants.

“Son of a bitch!” Quinn screamed, clenching her fists at her sides. “Isaiah, you can’t expect me to do nothing,” she pleaded, “Avery was my sister... my twin... I can’t stand by and do nothing!”

“I’m not asking you to,” he soothed, “I am only asking that you wait; wait until we have more information, until we have more facts. I will help you, I swear it. I promise you your sister’s death will not go unpunished, but I need you to trust me. Can you trust me, Quinn?”

She gazed up at him, her eyes hollow and lifeless; the physical evidence of her pain.

“Yes,” she croaked, “I trust you.”

“Good,” Isaiah nodded, releasing a deep breath. “Now, I know you’re not in any state to deal with this right now. I want you to go home, lock your door and get some rest. Stay there until you’ve got your emotions under control. And when you come out, you act as though nothing is wrong.”

“But...”

“No Quinn, no buts. You cannot tell anyone about this. No other Guardian can know.” Isaiah knew he was being hard on her, but he had his own reasons for wanting to keep this to himself. Reasons that he could not share with her... not yet.

“How do you propose we find the answers I need?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, “but I will find a way. Just give me some time.”

He walked Quinn back through the field, neither of them speaking. It pained Isaiah to know how deeply she was suffering, and worse, that a Guardian had been slain by something other than a vampire; but he hid his concern. Quinn needed to be strong now, more than ever. And they needed to find out what had happened to Avery, because something had shifted in their world and, if they didn’t get to the bottom of it, Isaiah suspected things would get a lot worse.

“Will you be okay?’ he asked, when they reached the edge of the field that bordered the town. Quinn nodded stiffly.

“Remember what I said,” he warned.

She did. She made her way home and locked the door behind her, leaning back against the frame for a moment to gather herself. She made it as far as the bathroom before she unravelled, heaving the pitiful contents of her stomach into the toilet before collapsing onto her knees. Unable to keep them at bay any longer, the tears streamed down her cheeks, her face crumpling as she sobbed uncontrollably on the floor, curling herself into a tight ball with only the cold floor for comfort.

Chapter 16

Anaise walked along the pebbled road singing a lilting tune. She took a left at Kellan and Freya’s gate and swept up to the front door, knocking gently. The last time she had been here she had been assisting with baby Sage’s birth. The door opened almost immediately.

“You’re early!” Freya smiled.

“Am I?” Anaise looked up at the sky, where the sun was climbing steadily.

“You are, and I’m delighted. I’ve been itching to get out there. Harlan doesn’t mind you spending the morning here?”

“Mind? He wouldn’t even notice. He’s replacing the pipes at Rafe’s. They’ve been rattling for a while and he says if they’re not done soon the house might flood.”

“Isn’t Rafe staying inside the Cathedral at the moment?”

“Yes, but he’ll be back, eventually. That’s what Harlan says, anyway.”

“Your husband is very kind,” Freya ventured cautiously. Caleb wouldn’t be happy with the Fae assisting a man who had been cast out of the pack.

“Harlan says that’s wolf business,” Anaise answered her unspoken question. “He says our obligation is to help everyone who resides in the City, and for now, that includes Rafe. I don’t like him,” she added, and Freya knew she was referring to Caleb.

“Me neither,” Freya shivered.

The small living room was uncharacteristically untidy and Freya dipped her head in apology. “I can’t seem to get on top of the housework since Sage arrived,” she admitted.

“I remember,” Anaise smiled. “It seems like just yesterday that Velkan was a baby.” Velkan was Kellan’s protégée, a handsome young Faery who wanted nothing more than to care for the wards.

“He’s grown into a fine young man,” Freya complimented.

“Too independent for my liking. He wants to move out and get his own place. He’s asked Isaiah to reserve a cottage for him.”

“Already?”

“They grow up so fast.” This was saying something, considering how slowly the Fae aged. “And worse, I think he’s met a girl.”

“Really? Who?” Freya’s eyes danced with joy at the prospect of motherly gossip, but Anaise didn’t look half as pleased as she expected.

“The new Guardian. Monique.”

“Oh.” Freya adored Monique, but she could see how this wasn’t exactly the sweetheart Anaise had envisioned for her only son. The lifestyle of the Guardians was hardly conducive to a stable home life, and the chance of Anaise ever having a grandchild would be non-existent – the Fae could only conceive within their own kind.

“You know, technically, it wouldn’t be breaking the Taboo,” she pointed out, trying to find something positive to say.

“That’s hardly the point.”

“I know,” Freya sighed. “But Velkan is still young and Monique is very pretty. No doubt it is simply a childhood crush. He will grow out of it,” she insisted.

“He should be focusing on the girls in town,” Anaise sniffed haughtily. “Mairin adores him, and she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. My son needs his head examined.”

Freya knew Mairin well. The raven-haired Faery was only a few years younger than Velkan, and a kind and gentle soul. Her mother, Isadora, was an old friend of theirs, and she, too, had assisted with Sage’s birth.

“Didn’t Mairin apply for apprenticeship with Kellan, too?”

“Yes,” Anaise nodded. “Kellan said she was a bit too young, that she should reapply in a few years.” There was a hopeful note to her voice. No doubt if Mairin was spending her days with Velkan, Anaise hoped the two might strike up a relationship.

“Let me speak to Kellan,” Freya offered. “I’ll see what I can do.”

A small cry rent the air and Freya immediately disappeared into the bedroom, returning with a sleepy Sage. Anaise reached for her, fawning over the tiny fingers, apple cheeks and delicate ears.

“It makes me broody,” she admitted, glancing up at Freya.

“Why don’t you try again?”

Anaise shook her head sadly,

“You and I both know how unlikely it is that we would be blessed with another child. Velkan was our Gift, just as Sage is yours.” The Fae were largely infertile since the Blood War, with most couples remaining childless despite every attempt to get pregnant. Freya had always wondered if it was a means of natural population control. The Fae lived a very long time, and if they had been able to populate as quickly as before, the City would soon have become overcrowded. Kellan and Freya had tried for years to conceive, to no avail.

“Sage came along when we least expected it,” Freya pointed out.

“Harlan says we should simply be grateful that we were able to have Velkan. So many of our friends have never been blessed with a child, it seems greedy to wish for anything more.” A moment passed, broken only by the sweet sounds of Sage’s cooing. “You better go,” Anaise urged. “I’m here now. You may as well take advantage of it!”

Freya didn’t need any further prompting. Shouldering her bow and quiver, she gave Sage one last kiss on the forehead.

“There’s fresh milk in the...”

“I’ll find it!” Anaise laughed, “We will be fine. Now go!”

Freya walked to the edge of the woods across the cornflower field. She looked back at the house, a tiny part of her wanting to go straight back and spend the morning cuddling with Sage, but she knew she wouldn’t. She had been cooped up inside for too long. It was time to breathe some fresh air into her lungs and make herself useful. With the arrival of the Chumana eggs, Kellan was hard-pressed to find the time to hunt, and while Velkan was an excellent shot, Freya was better. Only Kellan could outshoot her with his bow, which was fitting, seeing as he had taught her in the first place. Most of the Fae women performed more traditional feminine duties such as sewing, healing and making the candles, soaps and other small items that every household in town required. The men traditionally hunted, farmed, and took care of the maintenance. Freya broke that tradition. She was one of their hunters, her skills too good to be wasted sitting indoors with needlework.

She could feel the burn in her legs as she continued through the woods, the toll of having been so inactive during the final months of her pregnancy, and the subsequent weeks spent doing nothing but relish her newfound motherhood, mostly spent between the couch and her bed. She broke into a jog, enjoying the exercise. She moved like a ghost through the trees, barefoot, her long white hair braided tightly against her head, the dull green cape she wore providing perfect camouflage against the thick foliage.

Deep within the woods now, she stopped, listening carefully, the pointed tips of her ears pricked for any sound. A sudden rustle to her left and she took flight again, her small feet barely touching the ground as she leaped over fallen logs and ducked under low-hanging branches. There! A small deer, only a few yards away. Freya froze, her eyes locking on the deer as she slowly withdrew her bow. As she pulled back on the string, a branch crunched underfoot and the deer darted to safety, bounding over a small bush and disappearing from view as Quinn walked between it and the whittled point of Freya’s arrow.

“Quinn!” Freya exhaled, dropping her bow.

Immediately assessing the situation, Quinn glanced behind her.

“Sorry!” she winced. “I didn’t know anyone was out here.”

“It’s not a problem,” Freya smiled. “I’ve got the whole morning. Is everything okay?”

Quinn looked troubled, and it struck Freya that she hadn’t seen much of her in a few days. Quinn’s face crumpled for just an instant as she turned away, not wanting Freya to see.

“Everything’s fine,” she assured her. “I was just out for a walk, but I should head back.”

“Quinn, wait!” Freya called, but Quinn pretended not to hear her. A worried frown on her face, Freya turned back to the task at hand.

“Are you quite done?” Kellan smiled up at Freya as she dropped three hares onto the table before him.

“I’m done,” she smiled. She had brought down a deer, two pheasants and the hares, all of which would provide a feast for their community tonight.

“How do you feel?” Kellan asked.

“Useful,” Freya teased. She had twigs in her hair and her braid was coming loose but her eyes glittered and her pale cheeks were tinged pink with health.

“Ready to get back to our child?” Kellan offered her his arm. He was done for the day, too. He had only come into town to check on the meat stores, which, thanks to Freya, were now looking a lot less pathetic than they had this morning. Now, he was ready to go back home and check on the Chumana eggs. Freya snuck her tiny hand through his arm, curling it around his elbow and allowing him to lead her.

“I’ve been thinking,’ she spoke, when they were outside.

“Oh dear!” Kellan knew his wife too well. “What is it that you need?”

“I thought perhaps you might allow Mairin to start her apprenticeship early.”

“Mairin?” Kellan knew the young Faery well. “Why?”

“Anaise is worried about Velkan,” Freya admitted. “He’s got a crush on Monique.”

“Ah,” the penny dropped. Kellan was aware of his protégée’s budding affection for the Guardian, and he immediately suspected this was Anaise’s attempt at matchmaking. “Sure. I’ll let her know tomorrow.”

“Just like that?” Freya raised her brows. Usually it took a lot more coaxing before Kellan agreed to do something for any reason that wasn’t practical.

“To be honest, I don’t think Monique has even noticed Velkan,” he admitted. “So, in the interest of preventing him from heartbreak, I’d be more than happy to provide a distraction, in the form of a beautiful young Faery.”

“You know Mairin is far too young for you, old man,” Freya pointed out teasingly. Kellan opened his mouth to object, but a frantic calling of his name silenced any response.

“Speak and he shall appear,” he said instead, as Velkan skidded to a halt before them.

“It’s hatching!” the young Faery puffed, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to regain his breath. Kellan and Freya sped off with Velkan panting behind them.

They were too late. When Kellan pushed open the shed door, it was already all over. An empty eggshell lay cracked in half on the dusty floor, and, upon Monique’s lap, nuzzling her neck with excited squeaks, sat a bat-winged, under-sized Chumana hatchling.

Chapter 17

Quinn tried to steady her breathing as she sat at the council table awaiting the others. The stress of keeping such a monumental secret was taking its toll. It had been two weeks since Isaiah had exhumed Avery’s body and they had learned the truth about her sister’s murder. The irony of the fact that Avery had been killed, not by vampires as they had believed, but by wolves - werewolves, to be exact – was not lost on Quinn. The very creatures Avery had dedicated her life to protecting! It infuriated Quinn, who was only just keeping her emotions in check. She shifted in her seat and Tristan cast her a quizzical glance. He could hardly fail to notice how on edge she had been these past two weeks. Everyone had noticed.

“They’ll be here shortly,” Isaiah murmured from his seat at the far end of the table. Quinn couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She had kept their horrifying discovery a secret from the other Guardians, at his request, but it was burning a hole in her chest.

Tristan glanced across at her again, and she felt once more the guilt gnawing at the pit of her stomach. Tristan, above all others, deserved the truth. Avery had been his wife – the mother of his children. Keeping it from him had taken a massive toll on their relationship. She had pulled away from him these past two weeks and not knowing the reason for her withdrawal had hurt him beyond anything else.

Monique watched the two of them with a thoughtful expression on her face. She could sense the tension between them, and her heart ached for her uncle. Quinn had not been herself the past few weeks and Monique knew whose side she was on. His despair was palpable, and Monique wished she could get away from it.

The morbid atmosphere was not the only reason Monique wanted to get back inside the City. She also wanted to get back to Lucky – the hatchling Chumana dragon which had defied all odds and survived, despite hatching weeks early. Quinn hadn’t even been to see him yet, Monique thought, as though it was a personal offence. The baby dragon had bonded with Monique while still in its egg, and it followed her around like a wrinkled, scaly, fire-sneezing puppy, much to Monique’s mother, Camille’s, horror. Monique couldn’t understand her mother’s objection – Lucky was no larger than a Pomeranian, and, with his black eyes, snub snout, and glorious red and orange coloring, Monique thought he was easily one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen. It wasn’t his fault that only last week she had snuck him out of the shed and he had set fire to the living-room curtains.

Quinn heaved a sigh of relief as the great doors of the Cathedral opened and the Hunters entered the room. Daniel, the Guardians’ fiercest warrior, followed by Blair, Garrett and Liam. They had been out on a hunting expedition, and, from the look of them, it had been a successful one. Even the usually sullen Blair looked positively euphoric.

“Where are the others?” Daniel asked, glancing at the empty chairs.

“Right behind you, they’ll be here any minute.” Isaiah answered. Piper arrived only five minutes later, but in the end it took another half hour before Lucas and Braddon took their seats. Avery’s seat, as always, was the only empty chair remaining.

“Let’s get to it, then, shall we?” Daniel began.

Much to Quinn’s discomfort, the meeting had been called to discuss the very topic she was trying to avoid:  the werewolves. Tomorrow night would be a full moon and Rafe and Channon, who were currently residing within the Cathedral itself, were being sent back into the City to meet their fate. Caleb had killed Rafe’s mother, Vivienne, during the last full moon, in retaliation for Rafe’s disappearance. The Guardians had taken Rafe out of Summerfeld for his protection, against their better judgment, and Vivienne had paid the price. There was only one way to ensure that no more innocent lives were lost. Rafe would have to return and face Caleb’s wrath.

“They’ll kill him,” Quinn said, for what felt like the hundredth time. Every nerve in her body was violently opposed to sending Rafe back inside the City. Caleb had already defeated him once, when he usurped Rafe’s Alpha title, and the older wolf would not survive a second attack. It was tantamount to a death sentence. “We may as well kill him ourselves,” Quinn continued, emotionally, “at least it would be merciful.” Nobody contradicted her. To do so would be pointless; Caleb had already proven himself to be a cruel, highly aggressive Alpha and he would not tolerate the competition.

“It will be a great loss,” Daniel intoned hollowly. “But there is nothing we can do.”

“We can protect him,” Quinn pointed out.

“No, Quinn,” Isaiah murmured. “We have discussed this and there is nothing we can do. It is the pack’s business.”

“Rafe goes back inside tomorrow morning,” Daniel agreed. “Channon too.”

Quinn fell silent, her heart even heavier in her chest. She had been so focused on her own pain and the tragic reality of Avery’s death that she had spent no time with Rafe since finding out. It struck her now how selfish that had been. She was close to Rafe and he was not only her ward, he had become her friend in the one hundred years she had known him. Channon would also likely not survive the night unless she bowed to Caleb’s dominance, and Quinn knew the haughty she-wolf would never do that. Caleb would kill her too.

“There is something else,” Daniel changed the subject. “A convoy of gypsies has taken up residence in the woods, not far from here.” Quinn stiffened, and Monique slunk lower in her chair, trying to make herself invisible. Quinn cast a warning look at Tristan, and then looked to Isaiah. Only the four of them knew that Monique was secretly seeing one of the gypsy boys and that Quinn and Tristan had been taking both her and her mother, Camille, into town, frequently, to visit him. “I can only assume they are the same ones Braddon reported a few months ago,” Daniel continued, oblivious to their discomfort. “It seems I was wrong in brushing them off as of little concern.” Daniel somehow made his own oversight seem a mere trifle. Quinn wondered how Isaiah would react, but when he spoke, his words were the last thing she expected.

“We are aware that the gypsies have remained in the area,” he nodded sagely. “Quinn and Tristan have been keeping an eye on them.”

“What?” Daniel and Quinn spoke in unison, although in Quinn’s case it was not a question, but a shocked cry of indignation. Isaiah smiled.

“An opportunity presented itself,” he continued calmly, speaking directly to an apoplectic Daniel. “A chance to infiltrate their camp and learn more about them. I asked Quinn and Tristan to oblige and they reluctantly agreed.” That wasn’t exactly how it had unfolded, but Quinn knew better than to say so.

“That is preposterous,” Daniel snapped. “To consort with the gypsies puts us all at risk! What if they discover that these two are Guardians?” he jerked his head in Quinn and Tristan’s direction.

“They won’t,” Isaiah replied confidently. “Do you honestly think the gypsies are smarter than we are? This is a good thing. We have never been able to understand exactly why they search for the City. Now, perhaps, we will finally find out their true intentions.”

Daniel mulled this over, and then, to Quinn’s astonishment, he nodded.

“You have a point. What have you learned?” he turned to Tristan.

“Not much,” Tristan admitted. He doubted the gypsies’ bonfire celebrations were of any interest to Daniel and he preferred not to mention that his sole discovery so far was the strength of their brew.

“Do not forget that the gypsies are dangerous,” Daniel cautioned, and Monique gave a snort of derision. “You have something to say, Monique?” Daniel’s eyes bored into hers. Daniel treated every Guardian equally and he made no allowances for age, gender, or how long a Guardian had served the City. Quinn had always admired this trait but now, seeing Monique’s cheeks redden under his scrutiny, she felt the need to protect her.

“Monique is our accomplice,” she stated boldly. “She befriended a gypsy boy, and it is through him that we came to be accepted into their circle.”

Monique’s eyes widened in horror but Quinn knew Daniel far better than she did. Daniel did not show surprise or disapproval at this revelation. Instead, he cocked his head, gazing at Monique with a different expression. Daniel was impressed.

“Keep us informed,” he instructed.

The meeting ended shortly thereafter and Quinn watched as the other Guardians made their way through the Gateway.

“Monique,” she called the younger girl back when only Tristan and Isaiah remained.

“Daniel’s going into the City?” Quinn asked Isaiah when they were alone.

“He needs to rest,” Isaiah confirmed. “He will stay a while.”

Quinn had never known Daniel to make use of his Summerfeld home. He seemed to spend every waking moment hunting vampires. She wasn’t sure if she felt comfortable having the most formidable Guardian of them all watching over her, particularly given what she had been getting up to the past two weeks.

“I need to check on Lucky,” Monique whined impatiently.

“In a minute,” Quinn consoled her, before turning back to Isaiah. “You want to tell me what that was about? I thought we were keeping Monique’s visits outside the City to ourselves.”

“There was nothing else for it. I don’t like secrets between us to begin with, but Daniel knowing the gypsies are here changes things. He wouldn’t leave them unsupervised, and Monique’s secret visits into man’s realm would have been found out soon enough.”

“Fair point.”

“I hope that you are using your time with Jonas wisely,” he added, and Monique flushed scarlet. “Daniel was right about the gypsies being dangerous.”

“Jonas isn’t!” Monique set her jaw stubbornly.

Quinn’s fear that Monique was becoming emotionally attached to Jonas seemed to have been realised.

“Monique, I know you like him, but surely you know that this will never work,” she said. “Jonas is a decent kid, but he is what he is. The gypsies are not our allies. They are a threat to Summerfeld.”

Monique bit her lip. It would do no good to dispute it; they would not believe her anyway. “Can I go now?” she asked.

“Yes,” Quinn relented, getting to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Tristan asked as she headed, not for the altar, but toward the Cathedral doors.

“I need some air.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No,” she shook her head, feeling guiltier than ever, “I won’t be long. I’ll come and see you when I get back.”

They both knew she was lying. She had been avoiding Tristan since learning the truth about Avery’s death. She couldn’t be around him, not while she was keeping something so important from him. Her feelings for him were real, but she didn’t trust herself enough to be in his company. She feared that if they were alone together he would get the truth out of her.

Isaiah watched her go, a sad expression on his youthful face. Quinn and Tristan’s feelings for one another were painfully obvious, and it grieved him to see them torturing each other like this, but for now, it was imperative that only he and Quinn knew the truth.

Quinn drove through the portal and back into man’s realm, feeling the pressure lift slightly as she passed through it. The further from Tristan she got, the easier it was to remember the reason for her silence and to justify it. Isaiah was just as determined to find answers as she was, but Quinn believed that he was searching in all the wrong places.

Quinn pulled into town and reached for her phone. Dialing the number she knew by heart, she waited for the line to connect.

“I’m here,” she said.

Chapter 18

“So you’re dropping out... just like that?” Balthazar Blackman eyed his son intently. “After all that nonsense about wanting a proper education?”

Jonas cringed, wishing he could take back every stupid reason he had given his father for wanting to go to school in the first place. He hated it there; the kids were cruel, and even the teachers treated him differently. Unable to bear the smug expression on his father’s face, he offered the only explanation that Balthazar wouldn’t question.

“Things have changed now; you’ve found the City. I want to be a part of it.”

This statement brought Balthazar up short. His greatest wish was that Jonas would come around to his way of thinking; that the boy would embrace the search as so many Blackmans had done before him. Jonas’s words warmed Balthazar’s heart, but he had a nagging suspicion that his son was not being entirely truthful. Their relationship had been strained since that evening when Balthazar had allowed the others access to Rowena. In truth, Balthazar regretted his actions more than he could ever say. He had reacted in anger and Rowena had paid a terrible price. The sight of her, the morning after, haunted his dreams. Unbeknown to her he had put a stop to it that very day. When the women went down to bathe in the stream he had retracted his words, instructing the men in camp that she was once more under his protection. They had not laid a finger on her since, but Balthazar could not bring himself to look at her, and the shame of what he had done to her kept him isolated. He could never take it back, and she could never forgive him. He wouldn’t let her.

Drawing himself back to his son, Balthazar realised that Jonas had been particularly secretive since meeting that girl, Monique, and her Guardian friends. He deliberated. He did not want to alienate his son by accusing him of something that he wasn’t even sure of.

“Fine,” he conceded eventually. “I’ll go in to the school myself tomorrow. I’ll tell them we’re moving away, although I’m sure they won’t contest it.” Balthazar was all too aware of the school’s disdain for their lifestyle. “You don’t have to go back.”

“Thank you.”

“I wasn’t done.” Jonas braced himself for what might come next. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. There was always a price to his father’s mercy.

“What is it?”

“Your friend, Monique,” Balthazar began, and Jonas stiffened.

“What about her?”

“Where did you meet her?”

“At school,” Jonas lied. Balthazar hadn’t been sure before, but he knew now, without a doubt, that his son was lying. Any girl who was running with Guardians would never be enrolled in the local high school.

“Son,” Balthazar kept his temper in check, “I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to tell me the truth.” His dark eyes held Jonas’s for a long moment and Jonas felt the shackles of his father’s deduction closing in on him. “Do you know what those people are?”

“Which people?” Jonas feigned ignorance, which only served to anger his father even more.

“Quinn,” Balthazar replied calmly, “and Tristan. Monique’s friends.”

The loaded question didn’t need any clarification. He had singled them out. He hadn’t asked about Camille, only the Guardians. Balthazar knew the truth. What he was really asking was whether Jonas would try to protect them. But he hadn’t asked about Monique, Jonas realised, which meant that maybe he didn’t know about her. It was something to cling to.

“They’re Guardians,” he admitted, choosing his words carefully.

“You knew?”

Jonas nodded.

“And when exactly did you plan on telling me?”

Jonas changed tack. His biggest fear was that Balthazar would forbid him from seeing Monique.

“I thought I could try to get close to them. That I might be able to find a way for us to get into the City…” he trailed off, feebly. He had never been much good at lying, and he couldn’t think of anything to say that would make sense as to why he hadn’t mentioned it. Fortunately Balthazar was distracted by the seed that Jonas had sown. Why not, he thought. They had found the City, but they knew little of the Guardians themselves. If Jonas could infiltrate their community, they might find some way to achieve their goals without conflict.

Jonas sat perfectly still, saying nothing. He felt as though he had thrown his best friend into the flames. He had surrendered the girl he loved, however unwittingly, and he could not take it back. To his utter astonishment, Balthazar dismissed him, with one final instruction.

“Stay close to the girl. I want to know everything.”

Jonas quickly agreed. Scrambling to his knees, he back-pedaled, grateful to have escaped so lightly.

“And Jonas,” Balthazar added as he turned to leave, “this conversation stays between us.”

As Jonas walked away, his mind troubled, Rowena approached him with a small smile.

“He said yes?” she asked, her eyes dancing. Jonas tried to assume a carefree expression.

“He did.”

“I told you he would.”

“I don’t understand why you still defend him,” Jonas sighed. “How you can even see any good in him after everything he’s done to you?”

“You are still young, Jonas,” Rowena pointed out. Unlike the others, she didn’t mean it as an insult, or speak down to him. She understood the naiveté of youth only too well, and she loved Jonas dearly. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Rowena was bitterly afraid that Jonas would learn the truth about why she and Balthazar had parted ways. She did not regret what she had done; selling her body to willing men had been the only way to ensure that Balthazar could continue with the search. If she hadn’t done it, the gypsies would never have made it this far; but even so, she didn’t want Jonas to know. He was as good as her son, and she couldn’t bear for him to be ashamed of her. She was eternally grateful that Balthazar, despite his fury, had not outed her. She was also pleasantly surprised that although Balthazar had proclaimed her common property for the gypsy men who would have their way with her, they had not touched her again since that first night. Hopefully, after her pitiful performance, they had deemed her to be unworthy of their attentions. Rowena prayed it would stay that way, but she knew that whatever happened she would deal with it. It was a small price to pay for the depth of her betrayal, and nothing the other women in camp did not endure.

Jonas didn’t press the issue. He knew Rowena would tell him nothing more, and, in truth, he was relieved. As much as he wanted to get her as far away from here as possible, the thought of leaving Monique crucified him.

“What’s wrong?” Rowena asked suddenly, her eyes narrowed.

“Nothing,” he answered, far too quickly. Rowena looked back to where Balthazar sat, her face pinched in thought, and then she lifted her head in comprehension.

“He told you about the Guardians,” she breathed. Of course Rowena would know, Jonas thought darkly. She knew everything. The difference was that he trusted her, far more than he did his father. Rowena would understand.

“No,” he admitted, his eyes downcast. “I already knew.”

“Oh, Jonas!” she wailed, sensing the reason for his distress. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t want her to get hurt,” he replied simply.

“Did he give you a hard time?” she inclined her head at Balthazar.

“No. But he wants me to spy on her.” Somehow, that was worse.

“I’m sorry.” There was nothing else she could say. She couldn’t disagree with Balthazar – she saw the logic of his plan - but she didn’t take any pleasure in the pain it caused Jonas.

“It’s not your fault.”

Jonas had never been in love before, but the more time he spent with the young Guardian, the more he was convinced that his feelings for her ran deeper than a simple schoolboy’s crush. Monique enchanted him, captivated him, and he couldn’t seem to get enough of her company. It was madness, considering their families despised one another, and especially now that his father wanted to use him as a weapon against her people, but he couldn’t help the way he felt.

Rowena noticed his expression soften as he became lost in his own thoughts and her mouth turned up in a knowing smile.

“When are you seeing her again?” she asked softly. Jonas started, and then flushed guiltily.

“Tomorrow,” he answered eventually. “She’s meeting me in town. The others have agreed to let us watch a movie, alone.”

“You do know that you won’t really be alone,” she pointed out, and he nodded irritably. “Well, be careful. It’s important that you don’t let on that you know what they are.”

“Rowena,” he called as she turned away, “do you think maybe we’re wrong about them? That maybe if we…”

“No,” she shook her head vehemently. “They will never accept us, Jonas. I’m sorry.”

Chapter 19

Quinn sensed Drake the second he walked into the diner. She was near the door and lifted her head to watch as he approached. His dark hair was in stark contrast to his fair skin, and his green eyes gave nothing away, no sign that he was pleased to see her, or otherwise. Reaching the table, he towered over her and she had to crane her neck to look up at him.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, as he dropped onto the seat opposite her.

“Don’t I always?” he mused.

They had met a handful of times during the past two weeks, unbeknown to the other Guardians, but their conversation had not changed. Quinn hoped Drake would be able to help her learn the truth about the circumstances revolving around Avery’s death, but she also enjoyed having someone to talk to. If Drake suspected that Quinn was using him as an outlet for her emotional turmoil, he didn’t say anything, but it was obvious to both of them that they were not getting anywhere.

The waitress bustled over, straightening her skirt.

“What can I get you?” she asked Drake, giving him the same dazzling smile she always reserved for his arrival. Quinn fought the urge to roll her eyes. It was no wonder ordinary humans were such easy prey for vampires.

“I’ll have the same,” he gestured at Quinn’s coffee mug. Quinn noticed he didn’t smile back.

“How are you?” he asked Quinn as the waitress walked away.

“I’m fine.” Drake probably saw through her lie, but he didn’t contradict her.

“What have you learned?”

“Nothing new.”

“Have you questioned the wolf?” Quinn had told Drake about the wolf bites that had killed her sister. She was still embarrassed when she remembered. It had been the very same night that Isaiah had told her – Quinn had spun wildly out of control, and, in desperation, she had fled Summerfeld, finding herself drawn to the one person she could confide in.

“Quinn?” Drake asked, opening her car door. She had called him and asked him to meet her, but in the space of time it took him to reach her, she had finally snapped. Overwhelmed with emotion, she sat slumped in her car, in the middle of nowhere, crying, her stomach aching and her body heaving with exertion.

“Quinn!” he called her name, louder this time, and then he lifted her out of the car as if she weighed nothing.

“You were right,” Quinn sobbed, uninhibited, into his shoulder.

He held her in his arms, stroking her back and saying nothing as the truth spilled from her lips in violent, frantic sobs. He showed no satisfaction in the fact that he had been right all along, and Quinn sensed that he took no pleasure in her pain.

She cried for an hour – the minutes passing so infinitely slowly that she thought she might never stop. She was so caught up in her grief she was almost oblivious to the slow tensing up of his body. But she could tell that he didn’t know how to handle her like this. A small part of her registered the rage swelling inside him and she clung to him even tighter.

Finally she raised her head. Her lips felt dry and bloodless as she spoke the only words that mattered.

“I have to find whoever did this, Drake. I have to. Please...” her voice was softer than a whisper, “please help me.”

He had given her his word. In her self-absorbed state she barely registered his other words when he said he would do this for her, despite the fact that it would mean going against his own kind. That aiding a Guardian was incomprehensible, but that he didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him that she was a Guardian – he would help her because he couldn’t bear not to. The only thing Quinn registered with blazing clarity was the fact that he had said yes.

“The wolf?” Drake’s voice echoed again, and Quinn shook the memory from her mind. “Have you questioned him?”

“No,” she answered. “I can’t, not yet.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Quinn,” he began, in a condescending tone. “Your sister was killed by a wolf... or wolves, and the only known wolf to have been outside of Summerfeld at the time is now within the boundaries. Don’t you think that’s probably a good place to start?”

“He’s not going to tell me anything. He’s an asshole,” she added.

Drake didn’t hide his smile. “You’re starting to sound like a vampire.”

“Don’t say that.” She was deadly serious. They both fell silent, musing over the fact that while they might be friends, they were still on opposite sides of a war that had spanned centuries, and they were destined to be enemies.

“I could make him talk,” Drake said after a long moment. Quinn didn’t bother trying to hide her shock.

“What are you saying?”

“I think you know what I’m saying.”

“I couldn’t,” she shook her head, wishing she sounded more sure of herself. “You’re a vampire. I could never…”

“Never what? Remove a ward from the City? Leave him at the mercy of someone like me? Do I need to remind you that this beast may have murdered your sister?”

“No!” Quinn slammed her mug down on the table so hard that a few heads turned in their direction. “No,” she continued, lowering her voice drastically. “Of course you don’t.” Her anger was palpable. “But I trust Isa…” she trailed off, shocked at her own daring. She had almost revealed Isaiah’s name. Despite their frequent conversations, Quinn was careful to never disclose any Guardian information.

Drake smiled lazily, amused by her discomfort.

“Still don’t trust me, I see,” he drawled.

“It’s not that…”

“It’s exactly that. I’m not offended,” he added lightly. “Perhaps one day you will realise that I am not a threat to you, or your precious City. Until then, keep your secrets. God knows I have enough of my own.”

“Is there anyone you could talk to?’ Quinn changed the subject, desperately. “You mentioned Genevieve might have answers...” Even speaking Genevieve’s name filled Quinn with rage. Drake had not seen Genevieve since she had orchestrated the attack on Quinn but he had convinced her that Genevieve might be useful.

“I cannot speak to Genevieve without telling her where I am,” he pointed out. This presented a problem – there was no way they could allow Genevieve near New Haven. The town was too close to Summerfeld. “It is also unwise for you to return to Brookfield. Genevieve believes you to be dead and I think it is best we keep it that way.”

“But surely when she learns that all those vampires were killed she’ll know that I survived and what I am? Unless you’re planning on telling her you killed them all?”

“She won’t find out they’re dead. The people she asked to take care of you were of little consequence to her, and she won’t be following up to check on them. Genevieve is powerful and impulsive, but not thorough. Believe me; in her mind, it’s over.”

“Will you bring it up with her? She sent the message from your phone; she knows I came there to meet you, so surely she must suspect we were friends.”

“She suspects we were lovers,” he replied bluntly. “And with you gone, she will assume I have moved on.”

Quinn didn’t know how to respond, so instead she fell silent.

“Here you go.” The waitress was back, depositing a steaming cup of coffee before Drake.

“Thank you,” Quinn responded, realising Drake wouldn’t show gratitude. Crestfallen, the waitress hurried off.

“You should be more polite,” Quinn grumbled.

“Why?”

“Forget it.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?” she asked warily.

“Why am I here?”

“What do you mean?”

“You keep calling me to meet you, but we aren’t actually getting anywhere.”

“We will, we just need to…”

“Genevieve might have answers.”

“Okay…so?”

“So why haven’t you asked me to leave? To go and speak with her?”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Quinn. It made perfect sense, but instead, Quinn had kept him here. He had arrived of his own accord, but she had not wanted him to leave after the gypsy bonfire. Drake had become a source of comfort, the only other person in the world in whom she could confide, other than Isaiah. The only other person who knew the truth. He was watching her, expectantly, waiting for her answer.

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you’ve come to enjoy my company?” he pressed. “More than you care to admit?”

They had not discussed what he had said to her at the bonfire. Drake had admitted to feeling something for her, and while she couldn’t deny she felt something for him too, she had made it clear that nothing could ever happen between them.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” she said now, keeping her eyes downcast.

Drake signaled for the bill and she felt oddly deflated. She sipped her coffee as the waitress approached, lost in her own thoughts. Not really paying attention, it took a moment or two before she realised what she was seeing. As the waitress stretched across the table to set the bill down before Drake, the sleeve of her uniform pulled up, exposing two perfect puncture wounds on the inside of her arm, just below her armpit. Drake looked up at her as he handed back the cash, not noticing Quinn’s quiet fury. When he did turn back to her, his eyes widened in surprise at the hard expression on her exquisite face.

“You fed on her?” Quinn hissed, the second the waitress was out of earshot. To his credit, he didn’t deny it, nor did he look particularly concerned.

“I did, actually. Her blood is surprisingly bitter for someone so sweet.” Quinn blanched.

“You’re unhappy?” he remarked dryly, cocking his head to one side.

“I’m disgusted,” she retorted.

“Of course you are,” he sighed. “You know, this perpetual disappointment is becoming tedious. It takes all the fun out of our relationship.”

“She’s a person.”

“She’s a food source.” He was completely detached, devoid of any emotion.

“You don’t feel even the slightest bit guilty?”

“For what? I’m a vampire. And in case you haven’t noticed, she’s still alive.”

“She serves us almost every day!”

“Yes, and I tip her very well for that service. In fact, I reward her very well for all her services.” The sexual innuendo was impossible to miss, and Quinn felt the blood drain from her face.

Drake wasn’t sure what made him say it, but he felt an uncontrollable need to pull Quinn from her high horse. Of course he hadn’t done anything other than feed on the girl, he wouldn’t lower himself to being physically intimate with such a pitiful human, but he was tired of Quinn’s constant disapproval. Let her think the worst of him if she was so determined to keep him at arm’s length.

Quinn fought the urge to get to her feet and storm out of the diner. She needed Drake’s help, and his confidence. She would go crazy if she lost her only outlet for everything that was going on around her. Besides, he spoke the truth. He was a vampire and he needed blood to survive.

“It’s none of my business,” she said eventually, and Drake realised that this was the closest thing to an apology he would get. It irked him that she denied her real feelings. He could sense that she was angry and possibly even a little jealous, but she refused to admit it.

“You’re keeping me in this flea-infested little town. The pickings are slim.”

“As I said,” she replied, feigning nonchalance, “it’s none of my business. But you’re right – it’s high time you spoke to Genevieve.” Steeling herself, she got to her feet and gazed down at him. “I think you should go back to Brookfield.”

Chapter 20

Much to Quinn’s chagrin, she had to spend the following morning in Tristan’s company. It was unavoidable as they had to accompany Monique on her date with Jonas. Quinn felt like the worst kind of person as she and Tristan snuck into the movie theatre just after the opening credits began, moving quietly and taking a seat at the very back. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark after the bright sunshine outside, but she soon spotted Monique and Jonas a couple of rows ahead. Actually, Quinn could only really see Jonas, his mop of unruly black hair instantly recognisable. Jonas was so tall that, even seated, he towered above everyone else, completely obscuring the view of the screen for the teenage girl behind him. All Quinn could see of Monique was the very top of her head, barely visible behind the high back of the theatre seat.

“I swear I feel as though I’m re-enacting a scene straight out of a cheesy movie,” Tristan grumbled. Quinn felt the same. She hated betraying Monique’s trust but she had made a promise to Camille to keep her daughter safe.

She was also acutely aware of Tristan sitting beside her. He seemed relaxed and perfectly at ease, even though things were strained between them. Taking advantage of the fact that she couldn’t avoid him in here, Tristan very deliberately took her hand, entwining his fingers through hers. She so badly craved his touch that she didn’t pull away, and when he reached up his other hand and pulled her head toward him, she rested it on his shoulder.

“You want to tell me what’s going on with you?” he murmured into her hair, his voice so low that only she could hear it.

She owed him an explanation. They had started something, and then, inexplicably, she had pulled away. She wished she could confide in him and she felt a surge of anger toward Isaiah for asking her to keep such a mammoth secret. Turning to gaze up at him, she shook her head sadly.

“I can’t. Not yet.”

“Is it me?”

“No.” This time she shook her head so hard that her hair whipped across her face.

“But there is something going on?”

Quinn knew that to deny it would be foolish.

“Yes. Hopefully it will be over soon, but until then I can’t tell you anything. I’m sorry.”

She wondered if he would press her for more information, but he simply stated, “As long as we’re okay?”

“We’re okay,” she promised, smiling, before laying her head back down on his shoulder.

So lost in her own thoughts, Quinn didn’t take in any of the romantic comedy playing out before them, but, when a scuffle broke out halfway through the movie, she was on her feet in an instant. A tall, thuggish boy with slitty eyes had confronted Jonas, and, grabbing Jonas by his brown leather jacket, the bully shook him menacingly. Tristan was on his feet too, as Jonas pulled back his arm and sent the slighter boy sprawling into the lap of the girl behind him. Quinn lost sight of them for an instant as dozens of theatre-goers got to their feet, and by the time she reached the end of the aisle, she saw security marching Jonas and the other boy from the theatre. Monique, following in their wake, gave Quinn a filthy look as she passed.

Once outside, Quinn quickly intervened as security marched the two boys toward the mall’s central management office.

“Excuse me,” she called, halting their progress. “What’s going on?”

Only Jonas didn’t look up at the sound of her voice. He kept his head down, staring unseeingly at the tiled floor. “That’s my niece and her friend you have there,” Quinn added, gesturing at the two of them.

“Your niece and her friend started a fist fight in the theatre hall as you well know,” the ageing security guard replied curtly. Quinn was impressed by his astuteness; he must have witnessed her and Tristan inside the dimly lit room.

“We didn’t!” Monique retorted furiously. “He did!” She glared hatefully at the other boy and then, turning to Quinn for support added, “he was muttering and name-calling the whole way through the movie. He even threw food at us.”

“Is that true?” Quinn demanded of the other boy, who scowled.

“He was blocking my girlfriend’s view.”

“He was,” a new voice agreed petulantly. Quinn recognised her immediately as the teenage girl who had been sitting behind Jonas in the theatre. Unlike Monique, she was completely unperturbed by the aggressive turn of events. No doubt she thought her boyfriend a hero for his childish display of teenage machismo.

“So you threw food at them?” Quinn asked dryly.

“Who threw the first punch?” the security guard insisted.

“I did,” Jonas admitted, speaking for the first time. Quinn wished he sounded a little more apologetic.

“Only because he grabbed you!” Monique interjected, as the security guard came to his decision.

“You,” he jabbed a wizened finger at Jonas, “you’re coming with me.”

“Monique,” Tristan called, as she made to follow Jonas, “we’re going home.”

Despite the unfairness of the situation, Quinn didn’t contradict him. Their only priority was keeping Monique safe, but Quinn still watched as the other boy sauntered off, wishing she could wipe the smug look from his face.

“I’m going with them!” Monique exclaimed. “I saw it all happen, I need to tell them it wasn’t Jonas’s fault.”

“You have told them,” Tristan reminded her. “Now leave it alone. This is his business… we’re getting out of here, now.”

“I’ll meet you at the car,” Quinn murmured. “I’ll make sure he’s okay,” she added in an undertone to Monique, who sagged in relief.

Quinn made her way towards the administration offices. On her arrival she found the grey-haired security guard explaining what had happened to a prim, weasel-faced woman who kept casting looks of ill-concealed disdain at Jonas. Jonas sat perfectly still in an uncomfortable-looking chair carrying an air of resignation about him, as though this was perfectly acceptable.

“Excuse me,” Quinn interrupted the older man’s long-winded narration, “I’d like to remind you that there were two boys involved in this incident, one of whom you allowed to simply walk away without any consequences.”

“He started it,” the security guard retorted, jabbing a slim finger over his shoulder in Jonas’s general direction.

“Actually, he didn’t. The other boy grabbed hold of him first. Jonas simply retaliated, as I’m sure we all would.”

“We’ve called the police,” the woman replied curtly. “They will get to the bottom of this.”

“The police?” Quinn gaped, and Jonas’s shoulders stooped even lower. “You can’t be serious?”

“I do not have time to deal with hoodlums,” she explained, as if the entire situation was beneath her. “If it turns out the boy was not in the wrong we will not press any charges. He will, however, probably have to pay a penalty for disrupting the peace. As far as I know there was no damage to property…” she turned to the security guard for validation, and Quinn gave a snort of derision.

“Damage to property? It was a petty squabble!”

“Be that as it may, we have to set an example. We will not tolerate this type of behaviour.”

“Fine,” Quinn sighed, turning finally to Jonas. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he nodded.

“I’m going to wait with him,” Quinn announced to the room at large. Jonas might not be her responsibility, but he was a minor and she would not leave him alone to deal with this. “Can I call your parents?” she added quietly as she took a seat beside him.

“I suppose I’m going to have to, eventually.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll explain it wasn’t your fault.”

“Thanks.” He gave her the number and then fell silent once more.

“It’s a misdemeanour; the worst you’ll get is a small fine,” she reassured him, before calling his father.

Balthazar cursed as he hung up the phone. Before he met Jonas at the local police station he would have to put his pride in his pocket. As he approached Rowena’s truck a few of the gypsy women surrounding it scattered. His dark mood had been festering through the camp and nobody wanted to be around him or risk having his irascibility taken out on them.

“Rowena,” he grunted, as he reached the back of the truck.

‘Balthazar?” As she lifted the flap, Rowena’s heart soared, and for one crazy moment she believed that he had come to take her back. Then she saw the grim set of his mouth, and her expectant expression collapsed. “What is it?” she asked. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious – nowadays he acted as though she didn’t exist.

“It’s Jonas. He’s at the police station. It would seem he got himself into a fight at the mall.”

Rowena knew the look on his face well; Balthazar was furious.

“It may not have been his fault,” she replied pointedly. “You know how other kids treat our own.”

“The Guardian called me; apparently she witnessed the whole incident. She says it wasn’t his fault.”

“Well then why are you in such a foul temper? Even more so than usual, I mean,” she added spitefully. Balthazar shifted uncomfortably.

“Jonas has been charged a penalty for disturbing the peace…” He let the implication hang between them, not wanting to come out and ask her directly. Rowena realised in a flash why he had lowered himself to speak with her.

“You need money,” she remarked drily. “Well, that’s ironic.” She leaned into the truck bed and retrieved a wad of cash from her pillow-slip.

Balthazar hesitated. The money she offered him was tainted; a symbol of her betrayal, but she was right - he needed it.

“Take it,” Rowena snapped.

“That’s too much…”

“It’s everything I have. Use it well, there won’t be much more for a while.”

The annual fair had come and gone and as they had settled in the area there would be no other opportunities to make money for some time.

“How will you survive without your guilty pleasures?” Balthazar sneered.

“You have made sure that I am kept busy enough.”

Her dark eyes flashed, and Balthazar stepped away from the accusation reflected in their depths. “Take it,” she hissed, jabbing the money at his chest. “It was meant for you.”

Snatching it from her, Balthazar spat viciously at the ground near her feet, and then shoved it into the pocket of his tattered jeans.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” Balthazar snapped, when, after completing a mountain of paperwork and paying a hefty fine, Jonas was finally released with no formal charge laid against him. “Considering you are trying to impress the Guardians,” Balthazar continued, “I would think you might behave in a more civil manner.”

“I told you I didn’t start it, dad.”

This was technically true, but Jonas knew he could easily have ignored the other boy’s taunting. He had spent his entire life learning how to switch off. The truth was that Jonas had been itching for a fight. Thanks to Balthazar, what should have been a pleasant evening with Monique had become nothing more than another betrayal of her trust, and, as he couldn’t lash out at his father, he had seized the opportunity to act out some of his frustration.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Balthazar suddenly asked, in afterthought.

Jonas laughed out loud. “I’m fine,” he drawled.

Chapter 21

Back in Summerfeld, Quinn went in search of Monique.

“She’s out back,” Freya told her when she reached the Faery’s house, “but I wouldn’t go out just yet. She’s in a foul temper.”

“She doesn’t understand how dangerous it is for her to be associating with the gypsies,” Quinn grumbled, accepting Freya’s offer of tea.

“Her heart rules her head,” Freya agreed. “But it’s not such a bad thing.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because of Enah and Julian,” Freya replied simply, taking a seat opposite Quinn. “They fell in love, it was that simple. And if they had simply been allowed to love one another, none of this would ever have happened. We would all still be living side by side, with no fear of threat or attack.”

“I find it hard to believe that the Fae and the vampires ever lived side by side,” Quinn commented skeptically.

“That’s because you were brought into our world as it is, in the midst of a brutal and bloody war. Before Eldon and Julian divided our people we were all one community. The vampires were always the darkest of us, because they required human blood to drink, but they were kinder then, influenced by Eldon’s compassion. Some even believed that Eldon used his magic to grant them the gift of persuasion, so they could feed freely and compel their victims to forget.”

“But you don’t believe that?” Quinn interrupted, hearing the skepticism in Freya’s voice.

“No,” she admitted. “Eldon upheld the Taboo, I don’t think he would have broken it and then punished others for the same crime. I think the Fae simply prefer not to believe that the vampires were born with their own gifts. They had their own laws back then, too. They didn’t kill their human victims and the few who did were dealt with.”

“Hearing you speak like this…” Quinn shook her head, “friendships between vampires and faeries. It seems so unreal.” She thought of her own friendship with Drake and realised that it might not be that difficult to imagine.

“Oh yes,” Freya smiled, “despite their darker nature, the Fae loved the vampires just as much as the other species. In fact,” she recalled, “I believe one of Eldon’s chief advisors was a vampire, Lucian, I think his name was.” She trailed off for a second as though trying to remember, but then shook her head. “Anyway, once the war broke out, the vampires embraced their darkest side, spurred on by Aleksei. They stopped feeding and starting killing, without consequence. And of course, they started hunting us down, slaughtering anyone who had stood beside Eldon.”

“So he created the City,” Quinn murmured. She was struck, yet again, by how imperfect Eldon had been. “It’s all so senseless,” she continued. “Surely we can make things right? Eldon is gone – he died for his mistakes. Julian’s death was avenged. Why can’t it all stop?”

“Aleksei will never stop. Everything I am telling you existed a long time ago. It’s not the same now. Vampires have been created to hate the Fae. Aleksei has poisoned their hearts against us. We can’t go back.”

The image of Drake swam in Quinn’s eyes and she only just stopped herself from correcting Freya. Surely Drake was proof that she was wrong. If he could see past the feud, then who was to say that there weren’t others like him? What if there was a way for the war to end peacefully?

“I had better go and check on Monique,” she changed the subject, getting to her feet.

“Be kind to her,” Freya pleaded. “Remember, she represents the very thing that separates us from the vampires - she listens to her heart. To try to change that would make us no better than the monsters Aleksei has created.”

Quinn found Monique sitting cross-legged on the floor of Kellan’s shed in an uncharacteristically bad mood. Lucky, the baby Chumana dragon, hopped around her, eventually leaping onto her lap in an effort to get her attention. His sharp claws scratched her legs, even through the thick leather pants she had taken to wearing. Absent-mindedly, Monique scratched him just behind the ears and he emitted a low growl of contentment, curled himself into a perfect circle and promptly fell asleep.

She hated what had happened at the mall. Monique was no fool and she could hardly fail to notice the way people stared at Jonas in public; with disdain, and even a little fear. Jonas looked dangerous, but he wasn’t. He was kind, and clever, and Monique cared very deeply for him. She saw past his shabby clothing and his rough manner to the person beneath it all. She didn’t believe what the other Guardians told her. Jonas was no threat to her, or to the City. She would know if he was.

“Hey,” Quinn entered the shed and sat down beside her.

“How’s Jonas?” Monique asked immediately, desperate for information.

“He’s fine. I phoned his dad and he’s on his way to collect him.” Quinn reached over and stroked Lucky’s scaly head. The sleeping dragon didn’t stir.

“I suppose you’re going to tell me to stay away from him, too?”

“Who told you to do that? Tristan?” Monique nodded in confirmation.

“Well, I’m going to go out on a limb here and disagree with your uncle. Beside the fact that I doubt anything any of us could say would change your mind about him, Jonas is a nice boy.”

“But…” Monique pressed.

“But the gypsies are dangerous. Don’t look at me like that; I’m on your side. I know that Jonas means a lot to you but you can’t let your feelings for him cloud your judgment. If the gypsies ever discovered the location of the City…” Quinn trailed off, letting the significance of her words sink in. Monique stayed silent, her face burning. Jonas had already discovered the portal – had been within Cliffdale’s enchantments and Monique had kept it a secret.

“What harm could they really do?” she asked eventually. “Even if they managed to find us, they couldn’t enter the City, not without a Guardian to take them through the Gateway. And they’re only human; it’s not as if they could overpower us.”

“Gypsies are manipulative and very crafty. They wouldn’t use force, but there are other ways to best even the strongest enemy.”

“Like what?”

“Like taking a hostage,” Quinn turned to face her, her expression deadly serious. “Do you have any idea how far we would go if your life was at stake?” Monique blushed again under her scrutiny.

“They won’t find us,” she stammered, praying that Jonas was truly the person she believed him to be, and that her faith in him was justified, because if he betrayed her, the consequences could be catastrophic.

“I want to see him, just to check that he’s all right,” she murmured as Quinn got to her feet.

“Let things blow over. His father sounded pretty upset. Give it a couple of days and I’ll take you to him myself. And I’m sorry… for being there… for chaperoning.”

Monique shrugged. “I knew you would be.”

Quinn headed back to the Cathedral, all thoughts of Monique and Jonas forgotten in the wake of what was about to happen.

“We’re really going to do this?” she asked, as her gaze fell over Rafe and Channon, standing slightly apart from the others. Tonight was the full moon and the two wolves were being sent back inside the City. The incident at the mall this afternoon had been a welcome distraction but now reality had asserted itself.

“We are,” Isaiah confirmed sadly. “It’s not our…”

“I swear, Isaiah, if you say ‘it’s not our place’ one more time, I’m going to punch you in the mouth,” Quinn snapped. Piper’s mouth dropped open, but Isaiah simply smiled.

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. As Rafe passed him, Isaiah placed a hand on the wolf’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he said kindly. “To both of you,” he added, smiling at Channon, whose amber eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. They made a fine couple, proud, strong and fearless; their only concern being for each other.

“Thank you,” Rafe nodded, meeting Quinn’s level gaze as she took his hand and led them back through the Gateway.

“Where will you go?” Quinn asked as they stood in the late afternoon sun. The fountain gurgled peacefully behind them.

“Lunar Grove,” Rafe replied immediately. “We may as well get this over with.”

“Good luck,” Quinn echoed Isaiah’s words. Rafe looked set to leave, but then he stopped, swinging back around to face her.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “for everything.”

A lump formed in Quinn’s throat and all she could do was nod.

“Yes, thank you,” Channon echoed.

Quinn waited until they were out of sight before walking slowly down the street to her house. She seldom wore her Guardian garb; it was only really the Hunters who made use of theirs, but the act of donning the black cargo pants, tank top and heavy black boots calmed her. She would not need a stake, but she pulled a crossbow from the back of her closet and slipped a small, silver-hilted dagger into her belt. As night fell she refrained from turning on her lamps, not wanting anyone to know she was home, or to notice when she left.

Chapter 22

Drake let himself into the dark house, tossing his keys onto the small table in the hall. He had made good time, driving way too fast in an effort to get as far away from Quinn as quickly as possible. He had thought that the more space he put between them, the easier it would be to get her out of his head, but sadly that had not been the case. Hearing Genevieve moving around upstairs, he mentally prepared himself. He could not confront her outright; it would do no good to arouse her suspicion, and, if Genevieve suspected that he was looking for information that might be used against the council, not even her adoration for him would stop her from informing them.

Upstairs, Drake found her wearing nothing but a wicked smirk, and she wasn’t alone. A sleek, sinewy vampire, also naked, was sprawled across his king-sized bed. As Drake entered, his mouth turned up in an insolent smile.

“Is this him?” he asked arrogantly. Genevieve, a lover of games, feigned dramatic surprise.

“It is,” she sneered. Drake could sense the excitement radiating off her and the smell of sex hung cloyingly in the air. In the corner of the room lay the body of a woman, naked and very recently dead. Blood oozed from multiple bite wounds all over her body.

“Welcome home.”

Genevieve picked her way across the room like a cat, avoiding items of discarded clothing. Weaving into his arms she kissed him full on the mouth, her eyes glittering with sadistic malice. Drake heaved a weary sigh. He was not in the mood for Genevieve’s games. She cared nothing for the vampire she had just spent the afternoon screwing; it was Drake’s reaction she was interested in. This was her way of getting back at him for neglecting her. She wanted him to fight for her, to display his power and then possess her. And in order to remain in her favour, he would have to do just that.

Placing his hand on her waist he pushed her aside, not hard enough to really hurt her, but enough to satisfy her masochistic craving.

“What is your name?” Drake demanded of the stranger, his eyes glinting malevolently.

“That hardly matters,” the youth sneered. “Let’s just say that I’m your replacement.”

Faster than a striking cobra, Drake moved across the room, seizing the younger vampire by the shoulders and sinking his fangs into his neck. It was all over in a matter of seconds. Ripping through flesh and bone, Drake decapitated the nameless fool who had disrespected him in his own house.

Dropping the severed head on the already blood-stained carpet, Drake used the cotton sheet to wipe his mouth before tossing it, along with all the other linen onto the floor, leaving only the bare mattress.

“You’re going to get this cleaned,” he growled, turning back to Genevieve. Her body glistened with sweat and her make-up was smudged beneath her eyes. She looked wanton and unbelievably desirable, but it still took every ounce of Drake’s willpower to yank her against him and cover her body with his.

Hours later Drake sat at the kitchen table. Despite the weariness that had settled into his very bones, sleep evaded him. Genevieve, on the other hand, had fallen into a sated slumber, surrounded by the carnage of the day’s events. He wondered idly what Quinn was doing now and then cursed his own naiveté. No doubt she was tucked up in bed with Tristan, the Guardian she had chosen over him. He had been foolish to confess his feelings for her at the bonfire. She would never defy the Guardians and she would never look at him in that way. Her loyalty and her passion were too strong. Still, he would help her. It was why he had stayed when she needed him. He would find her sister’s killer so that she could know peace, and then he would let her go.

Steeling himself, he placed one foot on the stairs when there was a knock on the door. Frowning, Drake moved to the window beside the front door and peered through the curtains. Standing on the porch, in a dress which he had last seen her wearing at a party during the Prohibition, stood Lenora.

Opening the door, a small smile played about his lips.

“Lenora. To what do I owe the honour?” He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You came looking for me, remember?” As always, her fangs were fully extended. Lenora so seldom ventured out in public that she never bothered to hide them.

“Do I even want to know how you found me?”

“Probably not. Now, are you going to leave me standing out here like some abandoned prom date, or are you going to let me in?”

“Genevieve is home.”

“Oh, how lovely. I haven’t had a good old-fashioned cat-fight in forever.”

Chuckling, Drake stepped aside.

Larger than life, Lenora swept into the living room, her eyes missing nothing as she scrutinised every inch of her surroundings.

“It’s very… quaint.”

“Oh you know me. I’ve always been a simple man.”

“You, my love, are anything but simple.”

“I would agree,” Genevieve announced, and they turned to see her coming down the stairs, her fangs bared. “You’re looking well, Lenora. I wouldn’t put you at a day over sixty.”

“Genevieve!” Lenora replied pleasantly, her gaze roaming up and down Genevieve’s naked body. “Good on you for not being ashamed of your body type.” Genevieve hissed furiously and Drake stepped between them, trying to compose himself.

“Ladies, ladies. Let’s all try to get along, shall we? Lenora, may I offer you something to drink?”

“Wine, please. Red, if you have.”

Drake moved into the kitchen and poured three glasses. When he stepped back into the living-room, Lenora was examining a small Monet on the far wall. Genevieve had covered herself in a thin cream blanket and was eyeing the older woman hatefully.

“I still love this painting,” Lenora announced, blissfully unconcerned. “I remember the day I gave it to you… it feels like just yesterday.” Genevieve choked on her wine.

“She gave it to you?” Drake didn’t answer and, satisfied that she had struck a nerve, Lenora turned her attention to a larger painting on the opposite wall. Wrinkling her nose, Drake saw her eyes flick to Genevieve. It was apparently obvious that the painting was more to Genevieve’s taste.

“Oh dear. This is rather vulgar, isn’t it? It cheapens the room – much like you do, dear,” she added over her shoulder. Drake grabbed Genevieve’s free hand in a vice-like grip just in time, and held her in place.

“Lenora, that’s enough,” he reproached.

“I’m only playing. You really shouldn’t be so sensitive, Genevieve. Besides, I don’t want to upset the apple-cart. Not when I’ve come to stay.”

“Stay?” Genevieve laughed.

“Yes, stay,” Lenora purred. “It’s been so long since I saw either of you,” she winked deliberately at Drake, “I thought it would be nice to spend some time together.”

After everything she had done for him after Charlotte’s death, Drake could not deny Lenora his hospitality.

“I do not want that bitch in my house,” Genevieve hissed. She had fled upstairs in a fit of rage and Drake had followed her. “I have enough on my plate, and, in case you’ve forgotten, my brother is still missing.”

“She is my guest, Genevieve,” Drake deliberately ignored the reference to Sebastian. “And I hardly think you have the right to protest after what I discovered in my bed this evening. Unwanted house guests seem to be the flavour of the day.”

“That stupid boy meant nothing to me,” she countered, “whereas you and Lenora have a history.”

“Exactly. History. There is nothing between us now. You,” he smiled indulgently down at her, pushing a lock of blonde hair off her face, “are the only woman in my life now.”

“I don’t want her here. I don’t care what she did for you all those years ago, you don’t owe her anything.”

“On the contrary, I owe her a great deal. I will not send her away.”

When she finally realised that nothing she said would change his mind, Genevieve had stormed out into the night claiming she needed to hunt. The cadaver upstairs was proof that this was not the case, but Drake let her go. He knew she would be back soon enough. Her jealous nature would not allow her to leave him alone with Lenora for long.

“What are you up to, Lenora?” he asked, when they were alone. They both knew she wasn’t here for a simple visit.

“I’ve come to help you, actually,” she replied. “You’re up to something, and, based on the questions you were asking, it’s dangerous.”

“I’m not up to anything.” He retrieved the bottle of wine from the kitchen and refilled their glasses. Genevieve’s remained untouched on the coffee table.

“How is your Guardian friend?”

“Not entirely pleased with me.”

“The women in your life generally aren’t.”

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that,” she snapped. “Give me some credit; I’m not as self-absorbed as Genevieve. I know you, and despite your aversion to the Quest, you would never help a Guardian, not unless you had feelings for her.”

Drake didn’t argue because there was no point in denying it.

“She cares for you too?” Lenora pressed, her tone softer. When he didn’t answer she sighed. “She’s fighting it, isn’t she? All that Guardian superiority, it’s enough to make me sick to my stomach.”

“She’s a good person.”

“Aren’t they all? You will never be happy with her, you know that, right? She cannot fight her nature. And being near her only puts you in danger. She will turn on you… eventually. Her blood will prevail.”

“Why do you despise them so much?” he asked. “You have no interest in the Quest, so what inspires this hatred of Summerfeld’s protectors?”

“They hunt us! They kill our kind, regardless of our beliefs. Isn’t that enough? I have no interest in finding the City, but do you think a Hunter would stop to listen? Would spare me? Never! The Guardians paint us all with the same brush.”

“Quinn doesn’t.”

“Oh, so she has a name, this Guardian who has bewitched you. Listen to me, Drake. You stay away from her. I will not let you die for their cause.”

“I made her a promise.”

“To find her sister’s killer?”

“Yes,” he sighed, swilling his wine in his glass and gazing into the ruby liquid as though he might find the answers he needed inside. “Once my promise is fulfilled, I will leave her alone.”

“For good?”

He met her gaze hollowly. “Yes.”

“Well, in that case, I will help you. And when this is over I can go back home, content in the knowledge that you will be safe.”

“I don’t suppose I could talk you out of it?” he mused. “Your being here doesn’t make my life any easier.” Lenora laughed gaily, and then turned serious once more.

“There is another reason I’m here,” she began, uncharacteristically hesitant, “it would seem that Genevieve’s brother has gone missing.” Drake kept his expression deadpan.

“I didn’t think you’d care about Sebastian’s whereabouts,” he mused lightly.

“I don’t,” she agreed, “but in his absence, a new council member has been appointed to take his seat.”

“That is of little concern to me.” A new council member meant nothing, just another enemy of the City.

“Actually, it does,” Lenora murmured, her face somber, “its Charlotte.”

Drake recoiled as if she had physically struck him; the air driven from his lungs. Even now, after all the years that had passed, it pained him to hear her name. Charlotte had been his greatest failure, and his greatest regret, for centuries. He had known of her devotion to the Quest, but he had believed that she would tire of it, as he had. Obviously that was not the case. If what Lenora said was true, Charlotte now held a position of power, with all the might of the vampire race behind her. The thought alone was terrifying.

“She is advocating that vampires stop seeking the City and devote themselves entirely to hunting down its defenders.” Lenora’s husky voice interrupted his musings. “You are placing yourself in a very dangerous position. If Charlotte is hunting Guardians, and you are helping them, it is only a matter of time before your paths collide.”

“Charlotte is not stronger than me,” Drake growled.

“It is not your body I am worried about,” Lenora retorted fiercely, “it’s your heart! I know the grief you endured after losing her. How can you be sure that you will not hesitate… or worse, join her?”

“I will never join the Quest!”

“Not even for Charlotte? The girl you loved so deeply that losing her almost destroyed you? Are you certain that your feelings for the Guardian can withstand Charlotte’s memory?”

He could not answer because to do so would be a lie. He was not ashamed to admit that he had feelings for Quinn, but he had loved Charlotte more than life itself, and Lenora knew it. When she had found him, he had been a broken shadow of the man he once was. It was Lenora who had helped him recover – had encouraged him to harden his heart in order to move on. For Lenora, it was a bittersweet and selfless action. The Drake who she had met was vulnerable and felt deeply. Charlotte had exposed a very human side of him, a side that Lenora believed was his true essence. She had known him before Charlotte as a cruel, merciless creature who despised almost everybody, and she far preferred the man he had become through loving Charlotte, but she also realised that he would not survive unless he changed. His grief would overwhelm him, as hers had almost done. Lenora had loved and lost, too, and she knew from experience that the only way to survive was to not feel anything.

It had worked. Drake had healed, met Genevieve and moved on, but every now and then, Lenora caught a glimpse of the compassion he had locked away in the deepest part of him. She could see it now when he spoke of Quinn. In time it would weaken him, break down his resolve and expose his vulnerability. Lenora could not allow that to happen.

Chapter 23

Quinn headed down the cobbled street keeping to the shadows. As she rounded a corner she caught a glimpse of Tristan heading in the opposite direction, towards her house. She ducked behind a lavender hedge, waiting until the sound of his footsteps had all but disappeared, before continuing on her way.

She didn’t call for the unicorns until she had crossed the cornflower field and entered the woods on the opposite side. She couldn’t afford for anyone to overhear her. Emitting a low, melodious whistle, she waited, ears pricked for the faintest sound, and after a while she heard the unicorn approaching. To her surprise it was Zinnia who answered her call. The dominant mare did not leave Primera’s side often, and in the fifty years she had ruled alongside him, Quinn could not recall her ever answering a summons from either Guardian or Fae.

“Easy girl,” Quinn crooned, stroking Zinnia’s broad neck. The mare was quivering, and she stamped the ground in obvious distress. Murmuring gentle nonsense in an effort to calm her, Quinn threaded her fingers through the mare’s mane and slowly lifted herself up onto her back. Zinnia reared up immediately, almost unseating her. “Whoa,” Quinn leaned forward over her ears trying to steady herself. One by one, ghostly shadows appeared around them. The entire herd had surrounded them, snorting, stamping and whinnying desperately. Quinn quieted her own fears, urging her mount forward. She had never known the unicorns to behave like this.

When Zinnia finally responded to the pressure of her legs, Quinn was astounded by the breakneck pace at which they hurtled through the trees. Her crossbow banged painfully against her back with every stride. By the light of the full moon she could see immediately that they were heading in the wrong direction. Over and over she tried to steer Zinnia in an easterly direction, her legs aching with her efforts, but the mare would not be swayed off course.

They were galloping near the waterfall when Primera joined them. Hurtling in from the right, he raced beside them, his eyes rolling frantically. At least three hands taller than Zinnia, Quinn could see his ears flattened against his head. The herd fanned out behind them, thundering towards something that Quinn feared she wouldn’t want to see.

When they finally came to a halt, Quinn’s cheeks burned from the wind that had whipped at her face during the journey.

“Oh no,” she gasped, as the unicorns converged around her. The pale form that lay in the long grass was barely recognisable, but Quinn knew immediately what had caused such distress among the peaceful herd. Crouching beside the mangled body of a newborn foal, Quinn felt the bile rise in her throat. The dazzling silver coat was stained crimson with blood. Swallowing, Quinn clenched her jaw and examined the small corpse. As she reached over to lift the foal’s head, Primera let out a desolate whinny.

“It’s okay,” Quinn spoke gently, her heart breaking. The foal could only be his – Primera was the herd’s sole breeding stallion. Glancing around, she thought she could identify the mother, too. Her stomach was still slightly distended, and she was clearly weaning… and visibly devastated. The other mares congregated around her, nudging her shoulders and offering silent support. Turning away from the pitiful sight, Quinn once again reached out and lifted the sweet head. The spiraled horn was only a few inches long and the mane still had the soft, fluffy texture of a newborn. The foal couldn’t be more than a week old.

Lowering her gaze, Quinn noted a gaping wound in the foal’s neck. There were also bloody gashes across the hindquarters. Breathing slowly in through her mouth, she slowly lowered the foal’s head back onto his shoulder, leaving him peaceful in death, and got to her feet. A cold fury was washing over her, starting in her head and making its way down her spine, consuming every part of her.

Turning back, she met Primera’s anguished gaze and made her decision. In a few short strides, she vaulted onto the stallion’s back. If the foal’s death was anything to go by, she might already be too late. She needed the stallion’s unprecedented speed.

Quinn had never known anything like it. There was a reason Guardians didn’t ride the strongest unicorn in Summerfeld, other than the fact that he wouldn’t usually tolerate it. It was dangerous. Primera streaked east so fast that it seemed his hooves didn’t even touch the ground. Quinn felt as though they were flying, united in a common goal. As the Lunar Grove came into view, Quinn pressed her heels into Primera’s flanks, and he sped up, moving even faster than before. Unlike Zinnia, Primera responded instantly to every touch and signal Quinn gave him. She set their course diagonally, until they were skirting the edge of the grove, the trees blurring into one solid line beside them. Quinn pulled Primera back, slowing him enough that she could leap safely from his back. She still hit the ground hard, rolling three times before she managed to stop. Primera continued on, hurtling away from the dark woods.

Quinn had been on her way here when Zinnia had taken her in a new direction. Regardless of what the other Guardians said, Quinn wasn’t about to let another ward die. She had only come to protect Rafe, but what she had just witnessed made her even more certain that the only way to truly do that was to take Caleb out of the equation.

Pulling the crossbow from her back, she loaded the first arrow, keeping the bow at chest height as she placed one foot in front of the other. Her dagger was nestled in the sheath on her belt, easily accessible. She moved through the woods becoming more anxious by the minute. It was too quiet, too still. Quinn doubled back and moved further north, towards the most remote part of Lunar Grove. The moon shone brightly above her, filtering through the trees and setting every shadow skittering towards her.

Quinn heard howling in the distance and she broke into a run, leaping fallen logs and boulders as the wolves’ chorus grew louder, letting the sound guide her to them. Then the pack was moving, away from her, and she increased her pace as she tried to follow them. They were moving quickly and she cut through the trees, hoping to head them off. One particular wolf’s deep, guttural timbre caught her attention. It could only be Caleb.

She finally found them, forming a rudimentary circle before a small crag which overlooked a narrow stream. The pack had ventured very near Giant’s Castle and Quinn crept through the trees, trying to get ahead of them. She spotted Caleb, his tawny coat a dead giveaway. A slightly shorter wolf than Rafe, he was far stockier, and powerful muscles rippled beneath his coat. Fresh blood stained his muzzle, gleaming black in the moonlight. The sight of the blood sickened her and the horrendous image of the foal’s body swum in her mind’s eye. As Quinn watched, Caleb threw back his head and howled, the amplified sound in such close proximity almost unbearable. A movement in her peripheral vision distracted her, and Quinn turned to watch as Rafe slunk out from behind the crag, his yellow eyes glowing brightly. Channon followed closely behind him.

The two male wolves circled one another, engaged in a deadly dance that could only end one way. Quinn slowly lowered herself onto one knee, lifting the crossbow and peering through the sight. She fixed her aim on the red wolf, following his progress. About to pull the trigger, she stopped herself only just in time as Rafe’s grey form moved between her and Caleb. Cursing, Quinn waited until he had moved away and then she took aim once more. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest and her palms were slick with sweat. Killing a werewolf went against everything she stood for. The fact that Caleb was cruel and vicious didn’t change the fact that he was a ward of Summerfeld and the wolf’s blood in her system fought to protect him. Also, if she killed Caleb, Quinn would never find the answers she was looking for. She would never have the opportunity to question him about Avery’s death. But Avery was gone and Rafe was still here. She wasn’t able to save her sister, but she could save her friend.

Too late, Quinn realised she had missed her opportunity. Caleb had moved out of the line of fire and she would have to wait for him to circle around again. She counted the breaths as she watched, waiting for another opportunity, but it didn’t come. Caleb attacked, suddenly and without hesitation, going straight for Rafe’s throat. Rafe leapt forward to meet him, and then the two were locked in a deadly duel, twisting and snapping as each tried to gain the upper hand.

Staring helplessly through the crossbow sight, Quinn realised she would never get a clean shot. They were moving too fast, and she could just as easily hit Rafe. Rafe’s snarls slowly morphed into yelps of pain and Quinn cast the crossbow aside as she scrambled to her feet and rushed forward. Channon’s howl of fear rent the air as Quinn reached the place where Rafe and Caleb were fighting, but as she pulled back her leg to kick out at the red wolf, she was shoved aside with great force. Swiveling around, her eyes widened in shock.

At first, the traditional garb led her to believe it was Daniel who had intervened, but then the light of the full moon lit upon the silver-grey hair and she realised that it was Isaiah, naked from the waist up. As she watched, he turned, grabbing Caleb around the mid-section and hauled him off Rafe, who Caleb had finally managed to pin down. Caleb issued a yelp of surprise as Isaiah threw him bodily into the crag of rocks. Unbelievably, Isaiah held no weapon, but Quinn still cringed away from the terrifying sight of him. There was no warmth in his amber eyes as he faced the red wolf, and his pale skin gleamed white. He barely seemed human.

Caleb, redirecting his fury, launched himself at Isaiah and Quinn shouted out a warning as he soared through the air. She lost sight of Isaiah as the wolf collided with him, knocking him to the floor. Isaiah grappled fiercely, keeping Caleb at arm’s length as his fangs gnashed together time and time again, saliva flying from his jaws and into Isaiah’s face. Only inches separated them and the muscles in Isaiah’s arms bulged with the effort of restraining him. Quinn moved forward, desperate to help, but the wolf pack stalked between her and Isaiah, forming a formidable line. Their message was clear – they would not harm her, but she was not to interfere.

What happened next obliterated all other thoughts from Quinn’s mind. Despite his hopelessly defenseless position, Isaiah suddenly flung Caleb off as though the wolf weighed nothing. Getting to his feet, an eerie calm came over Isaiah and he moved with purpose towards Caleb, who was back on the offensive. This time, when Caleb struck, Isaiah deflected him easily. Too easily, even for such a highly-skilled Guardian. Quinn watched, entranced, as he spurned Caleb’s every attempt with almost no effort. Quinn could have sworn that Isaiah was intentionally holding back. Eventually, tiring of the ceaseless onslaught, Isaiah moved, faster than Quinn could believe possible, and encircled Caleb’s throat in his powerful arms. The wolf’s back legs dangled over a foot off the floor.

“Enough,” he growled menacingly, exerting just enough pressure that Caleb yelped in pain. The pack whined, in unison. “You cannot defeat me, Caleb,” Isaiah continued. “I was created to protect you, but I am more than equipped to destroy you. You will leave this place and you will never attack Rafe again. Do you understand?” he gave another ruthless twist of his arm and Caleb’s eyes rolled wildly in his head.

Isaiah released him then, shoving him savagely aside. Caleb glared hatefully at him, but Isaiah paid no heed, turning instead to Rafe. Bending over his prostrate form, Isaiah moved his hands gently over Rafe’s body, searching for injuries. The infinitely gentle way he handled the wounded wolf was in such stark contrast to the terrifying violence he had just displayed that at first Quinn didn’t notice the dark form creeping up behind him. This time she didn’t hesitate. As Caleb hurled himself toward Isaiah, Quinn threw herself forward, pulling her knife from its sheath as she went. Isaiah turned, a moment too late, and Caleb landed heavily on top of him, the force knocking him to the ground once more. Quinn met Isaiah’s gaze over Caleb’s shoulder, her hand still gripping the handle of the dagger she had run through the wolf’s shoulder.

The explosion that followed had Quinn clapping her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to drown out the noise. The entire wolf pack was howling, one long mournful cry after another. Isaiah cast Caleb’s lifeless form aside and Quinn, still lying across his back, toppled to the ground, knocking her chin painfully on a small rock. The taste of blood in her mouth was the least of her concerns. Rafe had finally managed to get to his feet, his grey coat sticky with blood, and Quinn quickly shepherded him and Channon back toward the rocky outcrop, leaving Isaiah to deal with the pack.

Within minutes the cacophony died down. Quinn busied herself checking that Rafe had sustained no life-threatening injuries, but she was desperate to know what was going on. And then there was absolute silence. Quinn hadn’t heard the wolves leave, but she could sense that they were no longer there.

Without warning, Channon bolted, dodging out from the rocks and hurtling into the night.

“Channon!” Quinn yelled, scrambling after her, but it was no use. Channon was gone and standing alone beside Caleb’s body, stood Isaiah.

“Quinn, what did you do?” His expression was hard and he was shaking with emotion. It was the last thing she expected.

“I… he was going to kill you.”

“He was going to try… again. I knew he would and I was ready for it! Of course he wouldn’t listen to me the first time. It was inevitable that he would make one last effort to kill me. When he failed, he would have realised that he had no choice but to obey.”

Quinn thought back to the moment that Caleb had hurled himself at Isaiah. She didn’t see how Isaiah could have defended himself and she found that she didn’t care.

“Well, he’s gone,” she said. “And I’m not sorry. Besides, you’re a fine one to talk! What happened to all that preaching about not getting involved in pack business?”

Despite himself, Isaiah smiled.

“I am obliged to guide us on the right course,” he explained. “But I could not stand back and allow our friend to die.”

“Well, neither could I. I guess you and I are more alike than we thought.”

“Of that I have never had any doubt,” he replied enigmatically.

“What will happen now?”

“You killed the Alpha, leaving the pack with no hierarchy and they cannot function as a unit without one.”

“Couldn’t we just reinstate Rafe?”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Will they be furious with me?” The thought that the pack she held so dear might turn against her was crucifying Quinn.

“No. You are still their Guardian, they will not turn on you. But they will need a leader. With any luck, one of the younger males will try and assert dominance before the night is out.”

As if on cue, the mournful lament in the distance transformed, becoming deeper and more guttural. The sounds of snarling reached them, even from here.

“Leave it,” Isaiah ordered, as Quinn took a step toward the sound. “They need to resolve it their way. We have done enough.”

Quinn’s eyes came to rest on Caleb’s body, a sense of sadness coming over her. Any information he may have had regarding Avery’s death was gone.

“There’s something you should know,” she told Isaiah, leaning over and pulling her dagger from the wolf’s shoulder. “Caleb killed a unicorn foal.”

Isaiah made a choking sound. “That’s not possible.”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Quinn countered, though she could still scarcely believe it herself. “The herd is in a state.”

His mouth pressed together in a grim line.

“We will go to them, but first we need to make sure that Rafe is all right.”

Together they waited with Rafe until the sun came up. The sounds of ferocious fighting slowly dwindled and Quinn wondered which wolf, if any, had triumphed over the pack tonight. She could think of a few younger males who might overcome their pack mates, none of whom came close to Rafe, but all of whom would make a better Alpha than Caleb, in her opinion. She pinned her hopes on Dominic, a fully grown, agile young wolf who had always enjoyed a good relationship with Rafe, and who was rumoured to be dating Rayna, Rafe’s sister. It occurred to Quinn that Vivienne’s death would have affected Rayna just as badly as it had Rafe, and she felt a twinge of guilt that she had been too preoccupied with her own problems these past few weeks to reach out to the girl.

As the sun rose over the hills in the distance, Rafe slowly transformed, and, in human form, got unsteadily to his feet. His injuries were extensive, but he would live. Quinn supported him on one side and Isaiah on the other as they picked their way over the rocks, their progress laboriously slow. Quinn was focused on the ground ahead, and initially she didn’t notice Rafe lift his head.

“You…” he breathed in disbelief.

Quinn jerked up to find Channon emerging from the trees. Her naked body was filthy and covered in blood, and more seeped from her left ear, the top of which had been ripped off. Wordlessly, she moved to the stream, washing the blood from her mouth and chin.

There was a pride to her stance that Quinn had never seen before; her head held higher, and her back straighter than before. Despite her small frame, she seemed larger than life. Only when she finally approached them and Rafe dropped to his knees in the dirt before her, did comprehension dawn on Quinn. Stunned, she turned to Isaiah, who nodded in confirmation. Channon had just become the new Alpha.

Chapter 24

Hundreds of miles away Charlotte watched another wolf shift slowly back into human form. Her childlike face showed no hint of compassion for the agony that accompanied his transformation. Only when the muscular, golden-haired man lay gasping on the cold floor at her feet, did she compose her features into an expression of empathetic concern.

“Welcome back, Tane, my love,” she crooned, placing a blanket across his shoulders.

Tane threw the blanket off, getting to his feet. Without a trace of modesty, he stretched, easing his tensed muscles and shaking off the last spasms of the change. Charlotte smiled seductively up at him, tracing the contours of his chest with one finger.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good,” he admitted. He glanced around him at the bodies littering the room; all young women; once beautiful, and now very dead. A whimper nearby caught his attention; not all dead, then. He stalked over to the girl who still lived, kicking aside the bodies that lay in his way.

“Oh, you forgot one,” Charlotte simpered beside him. “Allow me,” she added, curling her lip and extending her fangs.

“Help me, please,” the girl pleaded, before Charlotte sank her fangs into her tender neck, silencing her once and for all.

Tane watched, his loins stirring at the sight. Charlotte ensured that his appetite was sated during the full moon, but without a female wolf his desire to mate could not be fulfilled. Crouching behind Charlotte, he snatched at the bodice of her dress and ripped it clean apart, exposing the back of her naked, nubile body. Charlotte continued to drink, draining every last drop of blood from the young woman’s veins while Tane crouched behind her, using her own body to satiate his lust.

When it was over, Charlotte dropped her ruined gown to the floor and the two made their way through the basement to which Tane was confined once a month. Comprised of two sections, Charlotte had had it redesigned to resemble a medieval dungeon, complete with stone floors and walls. The room that they were currently in was spacious and contained very little furniture. A small door on the far right wall led to the second section of the basement, behind which were cells which Charlotte used to imprison and torture anyone who offended her. Tane hesitated as they reached the door.

“Should we go in?” he asked cruelly, his bloodlust still pounding through his veins.

“No,” Charlotte snapped. “I gave my word.”

“And since when have you kept to your word?” he taunted, groping her bare breast.

“Enough,” Charlotte slapped his hand away and moved instead to the door that would lead them up into the main house.

The manor house itself was beautiful, although dimly lit, with heavy curtains that allowed no sunlight to penetrate. The furnishings were expensive and old-fashioned, but lacked the sadistic depth of the dungeon. The two levels represented the two lives that Charlotte had lived. Down below she embraced her vampiric sadism, while above ground her human life was represented by the very things her family had accumulated.

“Frederick,” Charlotte addressed the vampire henchman who stood at the foot of the stairs, unfazed by their nudity. Dozens of compelled human servants waited on Charlotte day and night, catering to her every whim, and feeding her a constant supply of human blood, but she treated her vampire servants with a modicum of respect. “We seem to have made a bit of a mess down in the basement. Ensure that somebody cleans it up,” Charlotte instructed. “Also, when my guests arrive, please have them seated in the dining hall.”

“Yes, Miss Charlotte,” Frederick bowed low and then walked back in the direction from which they had just come.

“Miss Charlotte,” Tane teased, missing the flash of irritation that crossed her face.

“Frederick has been with me a very long time,” she reminded him.

This much was true. Charlotte had turned Frederick within a few months of being reborn. The manor house had been her family home, and Frederick her favourite among the legion of servants employed by her father. She had spared his life when she returned, and allowed him to serve her instead, granting him the gift of immortality for his loyalty.

Charlotte ascended the stairs, pausing in front of a magnificent portrait that adorned the landing. Briefly tracing her mother’s face, she glanced down and smiled at her own image, immortalised on the canvas. The portrait had been commissioned just a year before she had been turned, and she looked much the same now as she had then, save for the eyes. Not a trace of the doe-eyed innocence remained.

“What happened to them?” Tane asked, out of curiosity.

“I killed them,” Charlotte replied sweetly, turning to face him. “My father tried to control me my whole life. I saw to it that he suffered terribly for his crimes. My mother,” she emitted a dramatic sigh before continuing, “pleaded for his life. I offered to turn her, but she called me names. She thought me possessed by an evil demon.”

“So you killed her?” Tane was impressed.

“I offered to turn her,” she pointed out petulantly. “She declined. I had little choice.”

“You are a twisted little bitch,” he grinned, nipping her ear lobe.

“Enough of that,” Charlotte slapped him away. “You have had your fun; now it is time to get back to work. Make sure to stay up here until I send for you.”

One of the servant girls had run her bath and Charlotte washed quickly before donning a clean pair of pants and a white blouse. She only used her old gowns for special occasions, although at the rate Tane was destroying them, she would soon have none left. The werewolf had gone to clean himself up in the room down the hall. Charlotte refused to allow him to permanently share the bedroom which had once belonged to her parents, although she did allow him to visit her here regularly. Tane now occupied her old bedroom, which had housed many suitors in the five hundred odd years since she had presided over the manor.

Charlotte could never have imagined the power that becoming a vampire had afforded her. She thought often of her former naiveté; her intrinsic human weakness and how foolish she had been. She had loved Drake, but she had loved her human life more. Or so she thought. That was why she had been so against him turning her, why she had appealed to his compassionate side – his human side. She had vowed to live out her days loving him, and then to go to her grave and be at peace. That was how it should be, she had thought. Charlotte smiled now, recalling her ignorant idealism. Only when she had been reborn had she truly started living. She now had an eternity stretching out before her, to indulge in every fantasy she had ever dreamed of. Drake had been weak; she saw that the moment she opened her eyes as a God among men. She had given him a chance to prove himself – to become the man he was born to be, but he had failed in every respect and she w

ould not let his weakness contaminate her, so she had toyed with him, leading him on for years, until he had finally mustered what little self-respect he had left and vanished. Charlotte had never tried to find him.

Downstairs once more, Charlotte pushed open a heavy oak-panelled door and greeted the three vampires who walked into the room.

“Good morning gentlemen,” she sang, and they got to their feet as she took her seat at the head of the table. It was amazing how many of the elders still retained their good manners, despite the years that had passed since society deemed this appropriate. Pushing forward, Charlotte revealed her secret. “Before we begin, there is something I must share with you. There is a wolf residing in my home…” she paused as two of the men rose angrily from their chairs, their fangs extended. “I ask that you tolerate this,” she continued calmly, “because this wolf is the key to ending the Quest. If, after our meeting, you feel otherwise, you are free to deal with him as you see fit.”

The three men deliberated, and Charlotte noticed the dark-haired man on the end give an almost imperceptible nod of his head. She had only met Roman once before – a very old, exceptionally attractive vampire. She made a mental note to seduce him as soon as possible. Satisfied with his response, she turned to Frederick, who stood just inside the door.

“Frederick, please fetch Mister Tane.”

Charlotte cast heavy-lidded eyes at Roman while they waited, but the vampire barely seemed to notice. Sloane, on the other hand, grinned lasciviously at the visible swell of her breasts. Charlotte had already bedded Sloane in return for this meeting and to gain his favour, but she took little pleasure in the necessary act. The councilman was a lazy and insipid lover.

A low hiss ran along the length of the table when Tane entered the room and Charlotte held her breath. The urge to attack in the presence of one of the ten remaining supernaturals was very difficult to resist. The men seated beside her were some of the oldest, most powerful vampires on earth and, if they acted on their impulses, Tane would be dead before she could even get to her feet. Not that she was likely to bother. Showing impressive restraint, however, the men simply eyed Tane with disdain.

The werewolf took a seat on her right, facing the three senior council members on her left.

“You mentioned you had important matters to discuss,” said the thin, raven-haired vampire nearest to her.

“Yes, Dimitri, that is correct. Firstly, I would like to thank you all,” she winked discreetly at Sloane, “for granting me a seat on the council.”

“That is a temporary arrangement,” Dimitri reminded coldly. “When Sebastian Russo returns he will be reinstated.” The other two vampires nodded in agreement, although Sloane did so less enthusiastically than Roman. He very much wished to lie with Charlotte again and she had made it clear she would only comply if he delivered on the promises he had made. As it was, he had spent the better part of a month convincing other council members to accept her proposal and, while they had reluctantly agreed she could be given a seat, they could just as easily renege on the arrangement.

“Gentlemen,” Charlotte simpered sweetly, “Sebastian Russo will not be returning. How many council members disappear without a trace? None that I can recall. I think we can all safely agree that Sebastian has met an untimely end, as tragic as it may be.”

Dimitri gave her an arch look.

“His sister does not believe that. Genevieve is searching for him, even as we speak.”

“Genevieve? I’ve never heard of her.”

“She has always maintained her allegiance to the Quest, but she is not as active a participant as her brother was.”

“If she is so loyal to the cause then why wasn’t she offered her brother’s seat?”

Roman narrowed his eyes at her insolence, which only fueled Charlotte’s determination to take him to bed.

“She is romantically involved with a man who has no interest in the Quest,” Sloane interjected, trying to diffuse the situation. Charlotte was far too forward. “For the time being, Genevieve is content to remain where she is.”

Oblivious of his intention, Charlotte threw back her head and laughed, the tinkling sound making her seem even younger.

“How very sweet. Well, in that case, I do not expect she will be challenging my seat.”

“Should it be discovered that Sebastian is truly gone, and that the Guardians had anything to do with it, I am certain that will change.”

“Well, until then, I am a member of this council. And, as such, I am privy to all of its secrets, am I not?”

“Yes,” Dimitri conceded. “Until such time as Sebastian returns, or Genevieve lays claim to his seat, your position is secure so long as we deem it so. However, we cannot tell you anything with this person,” he sneered, “present.”

Charlotte smiled smugly.

“Tane is far more valuable than you think. He and his brother pledged their allegiance to me decades ago and both have proven themselves worthy of serving me. In fact,” she examined her nails, pausing for dramatic effect, “at this very moment his brother, Caleb, is within Summerfeld’s walls.”

Their response to this proclamation was nothing less than expected. Dimitri’s eyes widened in shock and Sloane actually leapt off his chair. Of the three, only Roman remained impassive, his blue eyes giving nothing away. Dimitri might be the spokesperson for the three, but Charlotte was not fooled. Roman was the one she needed to convince.

“You never mentioned…” Sloane muttered, forgetting himself for a moment before quickly changing tack, “that is not possible!”

“I hear that phrase so often,” Charlotte mused thoughtfully, “and yet, it almost always is. You see, gentlemen, I have not been idle in the years since I learned of the Quest. My knowledge and resources are far-reaching, beyond anything you could possibly imagine. I alone have managed to infiltrate the City…” she let the words hang in the air for a moment, so that they could appreciate the gravity of her feat before continuing. “You denied me a seat on the council once before. I suggest you do not make the same mistake again.”

“You have your seat.” Roman spoke for the first time. His voice was raw and melodious at the same time.  “What is it that you want?”

“I want my seat secured,” she answered immediately. “Whether or not Sebastian Russo returns, I stay. I want access to all the information that the council possesses. And I want to meet Aleksei… in person.” This time, it was impossible to miss. Both Sloane and Dimitri turned to Roman for his reaction. Roman lifted a long finger to his chin, eyeing Charlotte thoughtfully. Everyone in the room seemed frozen, waiting for him to speak.

“We will need a moment to consider,” he announced finally, and, nodding graciously, Charlotte swept from the room, Tane following in her wake.

“Do you think they’ll go for it?” Tane was pacing the hall. They had moved away from the door so that they would not be overheard. Charlotte, in comparison, stood perfectly still, although a tiny frown creased her otherwise smooth forehead.

“Of course they will.”

“I still don’t understand why you are so eager to stay on the council. We have already infiltrated the City, what do we need them for?”

“Let me worry about that…” the words were barely out of her mouth when he seized her by the throat.

“In case you have forgotten, my brother is inside that City risking his life for you. I think you owe me an explanation.”

“Do you really think I would allow any harm to come to Caleb. He is part of our family,” she crooned. “Your brother is safe... probably safer than either of us. His very blood protects him. The Guardians will defend him to the death.” Tane loosened his grip, but kept his hands around her soft, white neck.

“How will we get him out?”

“The same way we got him in,” she smiled, “through the Guardian who has betrayed them all. And, as to an explanation, the reason I am so determined to remain on the council is because we need him. King Aleksei. Even with the vast number of vampires at my disposal, do you really think we could stand against him? Against the might of the council? No,” she answered her own question, “The City is a means to an end. Once the wards have been destroyed and the Guardians have fallen, there will be nothing stopping us from taking control of this world. I am tired of living in fear, and as long as the Hunters exist, we will never be truly safe.”

“And when they are destroyed? You say the City is a means to an end… what end?”

“When it is safe, Aleksei will once again be free to emerge from the shadows and rule us,” she replied confidently. “And I plan to be right beside him when he does.”

Power, Tane thought. It all came back to her insatiable need for power. Not content with the position she had just secured, Charlotte wanted to be queen. When she had taken him and his younger brother as lovers all those years ago, they could never have imagined the path they would travel. Tane and Caleb had been defending themselves against vampires their whole lives, and when Charlotte’s men had cornered them in that dark alley, they had believed their long lives were finally over. Instead, Charlotte herself had emerged from the shadows – small and fragile, with the face of an angel. She had spared their lives and told them of her plan, offering them her protection in exchange for their loyalty.

Initially Tane had baulked at the idea of planting Caleb within the City. He had been protecting his younger brother ever since they were children, and the thought of being separated from him filled Tane with unease. Charlotte, however, had convinced him that Caleb would be safe, protected by the Guardians, and embraced by the werewolf pack. Tane had relented, although he doubted that his aggressive, arrogant brother would be embraced. He had had no contact with Caleb since they had placed him in the path of the Guardians, certain to be discovered, but he was sure that his brother would be wreaking havoc in the City, and he took comfort in the fact that it would not be long before they would be reunited.

It also meant nothing to the brothers that Charlotte’s plan entailed destroying the last of their people. Those very people had lived safely within Summerfeld all these years while Tane and Caleb had spent an eternity in hiding. They knew nothing of their parents, having been abandoned at a very early age, and they had known nothing of Summerfeld until Charlotte enlightened them. Charlotte’s twisted version of the truth had done nothing to invoke any loyalty to the City, which she claimed had abandoned them, just as their parents had. The brothers were strong and powerful, but what Charlotte was offering was a life without fear, one where they could hunt and live under her protection. They had been only too happy to give up their miserable existence for the opulent extravagance of Charlotte’s home. And now she had exposed them to the vampire council, and still, they were safe. Lowering his hands, Tane resumed his pacing.

When they re-entered the dining hall, Charlotte smiled politely before resuming her seat.

“We have considered your proposal.” Dimitri was once again speaking for the group. Charlotte waited, determined not to let on how important this was to her. “The seat is yours,” Dimitri continued. “We will also answer any questions you may have.”

“And Aleksei?” she pressed.

“Unfortunately, we cannot grant your request. Aleksei communicates only through messengers, all of whom are compelled to forget him. No-one knows his true whereabouts.”

“Somebody must know. If this is a trick...”

“It is no trick,” Roman thundered, showing emotion for the first time. “And you would do well to hold your tongue. Aleksei is our king; it is not our place to question his methods.” Charlotte gazed long and hard at the handsome vampire. He knew, she realised. Roman knew where Aleksei was.

“Of course,” she nodded obediently. “I apologise.”

The conversation immediately returned to common ground. Now that Charlotte was one of them, the councilmen reluctantly answered all of her questions, and they had questions of their own, too.

“You say you have a man inside the City?” Sloane asked.

“A wolf, as I mentioned,” Charlotte corrected him. “We planted Caleb where we knew the Guardians would find him, and, as expected, they took him in.” Charlotte was not prepared to reveal her trump card yet. The real reason the Guardians had found Caleb was because one of their own had known exactly where to look.

“Do you have contact with this wolf?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“Do you have the City’s location?”

“Yes, but we cannot attack Summerfeld before securing the crystals,” she said quickly. “If the City falls, the Guardians will open the Rose Gate, releasing Wintyr from the Temple.”

“And all of the Fae magic along with him,” Roman murmured, looking suitably impressed.

“Which would bring us back to square one,” Dimitri mused.

“You will tell us where the City is,” Roman commanded, “but as you have done what no other has been able to, you have earned the council’s respect. We will take no action without informing you.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “I assume you have devised a plan of your own? I would be interested to hear it.”

Charlotte took a deep breath.

“We forget the City, for now. We focus on the Guardians and obtaining their crystals. Without them, the Rose Gate cannot be opened.”

“In a thousand years we have only ever found two of those crystals. Both were retrieved within days. Even if we could find the Guardians and secure their crystals, the Slayer would come for them.”

Charlotte forced the human memories of that night from her mind; the same night Drake had turned her. She remembered the screaming, and the blood, and the terrifying might of the Slayer who had come to retrieve the stolen crystal. Keeping her fear in check, she met Roman’s gaze levelly.

“Then we will deal with him,” she hissed.

Hours later, Charlotte walked the men to the front door. She had dispatched Tane to his room earlier.

“I couldn’t help but notice the portrait in the hall as we passed it earlier,” Sloane remarked casually as the others fetched their coats. “Might you show it to me?” Charlotte grimaced inwardly but flashed him a polite smile.

“Of course.”

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, the second they were alone.

“Me too,” Charlotte sighed, as he pawed at her. Charlotte had chosen Sloane for a number of reasons, not least because he was not of the highest intelligence and was easy to seduce.

“Perhaps I could come by tomorrow?” he asked hopefully, pressing himself against her. Charlotte fought the urge to step away.

“I wish,” she squirmed dutifully, and he smirked. “But I fear we need to be careful, my love. If the others were to suspect…”

“They suspect nothing.” Sloane’s ego was yet another of his shortcomings. Thankfully she was saved from having to commit by Dimitri’s voice, closer than expected. Sloane whipped his hand from her shirt as though it was a hornet’s nest and Charlotte hid a smile.

“It is lovely,” he announced loudly, stepping away from her. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

Roman did not bid her goodbye, but, as they departed, Sloane turned to Dimitri.

“We will need to send a message to Genevieve. To tell her that her brother’s seat has been filled.”

“She won’t be happy,” Dimitri focused on Charlotte. She appeared unconcerned.

“I’m sure her weak boyfriend will keep her mind off of things,” she taunted. To her surprise, Dimitri smiled.

“Drake may be a lot of things, but weak isn’t one of them,” his tone issued a clear warning. Charlotte raised her brow in astonishment.

“Did you say Drake?” she asked, a slow smile spreading across her own face.

Chapter 25

“I’ll need to convene the council,” Isaiah said. He and Quinn stood in the woods, allowing Channon and Rafe the chance to talk things through. Rafe’s raised voice reached them and Quinn winced.

“He should be more grateful,” she muttered.

“It’s shock. A she-wolf taking the role of Alpha is unheard of.” He was saved from Quinn’s undoubtedly scathing retort about sexism by the rustle of bushes nearby. Rayna emerged from the thicket, dried twigs and leaves in her hair and a blazing smile on her face.

“Where are they?” she asked. She was followed by Dominic, also naked, who had dried blood smeared across his torso. A large flap of skin gaped horrifically from his chest and a chunk of his blond hair was missing, leaving an unsightly crimson wound above his left temple.

“Are you all right?” Quinn gasped, but Rayna brushed aside her concern.

“He’s fine, the idiot. He didn’t know what was going on and he challenged Channon.”

“How was I supposed to know she was fighting for Alpha?” Dominic retorted defensively. “I spent the whole of yesterday psyching myself up to fight. I barely knew who I was when she came busting in there like some demon hell-bent on revenge.”

Seeing Quinn and Isaiah’s confusion, Rayna tried to explain.

“Dom was going to challenge Caleb. When you guys… well, when you killed him, we didn’t really know what to do. A few of the younger wolves tried to take up the mantle in the confusion and Dom went ahead with the plan. To be fair, he didn’t realise it was Channon at first, and he certainly didn’t get my message… even though it was loud and clear.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and Dominic held up his hands.

“I was a little busy, and you weren’t exactly thinking clearly.”

Rayna shook her head again.

“When I realised what Channon was doing I told him to stop. Luckily he finally got the picture, or he’d be a lot worse off than he is now.”

“She took me by surprise,” Dominic insisted.

“You got your ass handed to you by a girl,” Rayna corrected.

“Wait a minute!” Quinn interrupted, before they could continue arguing. “Are you telling me that you two were trying to oust Caleb?” After being so vocal, they suddenly decided to remain silent. “What were you thinking?” Quinn snapped. “You could have gotten yourselves killed!”

“Yeah, but we didn’t,” Dominic grinned.

“You almost did,” Rayna taunted, and his smile vanished.

“Anyway, where’s my brother?” Rayna asked. Quinn and Isaiah were too stunned to speak. “Ah, I think I hear his dulcet tones now,” Rayna drawled, as the sound of Rafe’s yelling increased considerably.

“I think you should leave them be for a while,” Isaiah cautioned, as Rayna stepped toward the sound. “It sounds as though they have a lot to sort out.”

“Sorry, but no. Thank you both so much for everything you’ve done but this is wolf business. We need to pay our respects to the new Alpha.” At her words, more werewolves appeared, all moving toward the stream. “My pig-headed brother is going to have to wait until we’re done,” Rayna finished, and they converged on the arguing couple.

“We can’t watch,” Isaiah drew Quinn gently away. “She’s right, this is a sacred and private ceremony. It’s not for us to witness.” They walked a short distance before Quinn found her voice.

“You said you need to convene the Guardians?”

“Yes. They need to know what happened.”

“Isaiah,” Quinn struggled to formulate the right words to ask, “why weren’t you ever branded a Hunter? The way you fought Caleb…”

“Without being conceited, I am an exceptionally gifted warrior, Quinn,” he replied smoothly. “You have never seen me fight, so I can imagine it would come as quite a shock to you, but yes, I do possess many of the skills required. Fortunately, I do not have to use these very often.” His eyes were hooded and Quinn had the distinct feeling he had closed the subject.

“I’m sorry,” he continued, before she could say any more, “about Caleb. I know you wanted answers.”

“I’ll get them,” Quinn vowed. “With or without Caleb, I’ll get them.”

“I know these past few weeks haven’t been easy for you.”

“I feel guilty,” she admitted, “for keeping the truth from my dad and Tristan. But I know you’re right. We can’t tell them until we have more information. The only thing I couldn’t stand more than keeping it from them is to know that they will carry this burden too, and be powerless to do anything about it.”

They walked the rest of the distance in silence. It was a long walk, but neither had the heart to call on the herd after what had happened last night. The unicorns had been traumatised and they were best left to Kellan in their distraught state. When they reached the cornflower field, Isaiah placed a restraining hand on Quinn’s shoulder.

“The others are not far,” he murmured, “they will be here by nightfall. I’d rather explain things myself.”

“I won’t mention it to anyone,” she promised. She would spend the rest of the day indoors.

“I’ll go in,” Isaiah offered when they reached Kellan’s house. Quinn didn’t argue. Someone had to tell him of the foal’s death so that he could go and check on the herd, but Quinn didn’t trust herself not to let something slip.

Exhausted, she managed to have a tepid shower, washing Caleb’s blood off her hands before crashing on her bed. She was jerked from a dreamless sleep hours later by the sound of rapping on her door. Dressing quickly, she found Piper on her doorstep.

“Oh thank goodness!” Piper breathed. “I thought maybe you weren’t in there.” Her face was in darkness. Night had fallen.

“The meeting?” Quinn asked and Piper nodded.

“Everyone’s there.”

“Then I guess we better hurry,” Quinn smiled reassuringly.

“You what?” Braddon thundered across the council table. True to his word, Isaiah had called everyone back to discuss what had happened in Lunar Grove. They had remained silent as Isaiah recounted everything that had happened. He left nothing out, although Quinn noticed he downplayed his own role, and made it seem as though, without Quinn’s help, he might not be here to tell the tale. Quinn didn’t correct him. She trusted Isaiah’s judgment.

“You killed a ward?” Braddon continued, his eyes boring into hers.

“No,” Tristan shook his head in denial, gazing at Quinn as though he barely recognised her anymore.

“I’m not sorry,” Quinn said defiantly. “Caleb killed Vivienne, he tried his best to kill Rafe and Isaiah, and he preyed on a unicorn foal. I wasn’t about to let anyone else die.”

“How is the herd?” Daniel asked, turning to Isaiah. To Quinn’s relief, he did not appear to be angry with her.

“In a state of distress, as is to be expected. Kellan is with them now. They will mourn, but they will recover.” Monique sniffed loudly at this. When she had learned of the foal’s death she had sobbed her eyes out. Monique’s natural kinship with all Summerfeld’s mystical creatures was both a blessing and a curse. She felt their pain even more deeply than her comrades.

“How is Lucky?” Piper asked kindly, trying to distract her.

“He’s fine,” Monique gulped, giving a small, watery smile. “He’s growing by the day.”

“Isaiah,” Daniel interrupted, having no patience for the young women’s conversation. “If the pack hierarchy is compromised, what will happen to the wolves?”

Quinn watched as Isaiah paused. It was still so hard to believe, let alone put into words. Wordlessly, Isaiah moved to the door of the record room. He opened it, murmuring a few softly spoken words and a moment later Channon followed him out into the open. A murmur of confusion rippled through the Guardian ranks, although Quinn caught a few gasps of relief that Channon was alive and well after all.

“The pack has a new Alpha,” Isaiah announced bluntly. “Channon fought for dominance last night and she won. The pack is hers.”

It was an unprecedented situation. Never in the history of werewolves, even before the City was created, had a female held the role of Alpha. It was unnatural, and yet, as Quinn gazed upon Channon, it seemed right. Quinn suspected that Channon’s reasons for rushing into the woods that night went far deeper than she would ever admit. She had done it all for Rafe – so that he would be safe. Quinn admired her courage, and her strength.

“Congratulations,” Daniel said eventually, his eyes glinting. “It would seem that in one evening you have turned the tables. Yesterday, you and Rafe were walking out of this Cathedral to your imminent death, and today you stand before us a queen.”

“Thank you,” Channon murmured, unused to such praise. She waited patiently while the others congratulated her, everyone expressing their relief that she and Rafe had come to no harm. In contrast, Rafe had hardly showed any gratitude. Channon had never known him to be so angry. He was furious that she had risked her life by fighting the other wolves, which was ironic given that they had been destined to die last night anyway, but more than that, he didn’t seem to know how to act around her. When Rafe had fallen to his knees before her, Channon had pulled him to his feet. He was her husband and the love of her life. She didn’t want his service, she just wanted everything to be as it was before, but she feared that might not be possible.

“He’ll come around,” Rayna had tried to reassure her, but Channon wasn’t so sure. She wondered if she had made a mistake, but there was no going back now. She could not step down, and the only way for her to stop being Alpha was for her to be defeated by a new challenger. This seemed unlikely, given how euphoric the pack was. After the initial shock of her being a woman, they had celebrated, most thrilled to see the back of Caleb.

Piper took her back through the Gateway and Channon stood alone on the cobbled street, seeing Summerfeld through new eyes. This was her land, the land of her people. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would die to protect them. Only a few hours ago she had been trying to save her own skin, but now that mattered little in comparison to the pack as a whole. It pained her that Rafe didn’t support her decision, but deep down she knew she had made the right one. She might have done it to save them, but it was meant to be. She felt it in her heart and soul. She was born to be Alpha and she would not give it up without a fight.

Chapter 26

In an effort to remove Quinn from the prying eyes of the others, Isaiah asked her to accompany Monique into town to visit with Jonas. Grateful as she was for the reprieve and the break from the constant questioning of the others, Quinn felt just as uncomfortable within the gypsy community. Although Rowena went out of her way to be hospitable, Balthazar always seemed to be on his guard when they were around. The more time Quinn spent with Rowena, the more she suspected that, in another life, they might have been friends. The fiery woman was kind and courteous and she obviously adored Jonas, who Quinn had discovered was not her biological son. Her maternal instinct toward him reminded Quinn of her own bond with Jack and Ava. The twins were thriving with Camille, and Quinn did not regret her decision to allow Camille to raise them, but it pained her how quickly she had been replaced. The children no longer clung to her when she left after visiting, and they had completely embraced Camille. For the first time since she had taken them in, over two years ago, Quinn felt like an aunt. Before, she had felt like a mother.

Tristan had declined her offer to come with them. He had been unable to meet her eyes since learning that she had killed Caleb. Quinn could understand why; it was incomprehensible for a Guardian to take the life of a ward, but Tristan hadn’t witnessed the maimed body of the unicorn foal, or Caleb attacking Isaiah with intent to kill. Quinn knew she had done the right thing whether Tristan understood it or not, but their relationship had become so complicated she doubted they would ever be able to put all the events behind them. Added to her confusion was the fact that she had not heard from Drake since their altercation in the diner. She had tried to convince herself it was for the best, but she missed his confidence and his company.

“Would you like something to eat?” Rowena asked, offering Quinn a bowl of what looked like berries.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“I haven’t put any love potion in them,” Rowena teased, poking fun at her gypsy heritage, and Quinn laughed.

“Love potion is definitely not something I need right now.”

“You and Tristan… you’re together, right?” Rowena asked. Quinn frowned, considering the question, and Rowena assumed the worst. “I’m sorry; it’s none of my business.” It wasn’t, but Quinn found that she didn’t mind Rowena’s curiosity.

“It’s not that,” she reassured her. “It’s just that I’m not really sure anymore.”

“He loves you?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“But you’re torn?” Rowena probed. Rowena had witnessed her and Drake together in the woods the night that Drake had saved a gypsy girl from being mauled by one of the men. It would be very bad if news of Drake reached any Guardian ears.

“I’m not torn,” she replied curtly. Rowena didn’t press her. Instead, she picked a berry from the wooden bowl and chewed it thoughtfully.

“Who’s Jasmine?” Quinn couldn’t let the subject drop, and she recalled Drake calling Rowena by that name. She wondered if perhaps Rowena had a sister. Her answer was nothing that Quinn had expected.

“She was my ancestor.” At Quinn’s expression of astonishment, Rowena hastened to add.

“We gypsies believe in myths and legends, Quinn. It is a part of our culture. We believe that some beings are immortal and can live forever.” They were skirting a very fine line, one that Quinn should laugh off, in keeping with her simple human act, but she couldn’t.

“So… you think that Drake knew this ancestor of yours?” she tried to muster as much skepticism as she could.

“I do,” Rowena replied simply.

The sound of Monique’s laughter reached them and both women looked up to see Jonas chasing her around the camp with what looked like a dead snake. Quinn smiled, despite herself. She knew Monique well enough to know that the girl was being flirtatious – Monique would find the snake fascinating, but she obviously enjoyed being chased.

“They make a sweet couple,” Rowena remarked.

“I wouldn’t exactly call them a couple.”

“Do you have something against Jonas?” There was a slight edge to Rowena’s voice.

“Not at all, in fact, I like him very much. But they’re young; it’s not as if this relationship will last.”

“I met Balthazar when I was very young. You would be surprised how long love can last.” She couldn’t hide the note of bitter regret in her voice.

“Can I ask what happened between you two? It’s obvious something went badly wrong.”

“I did something terrible and when he found out it was over.”

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Balthazar sees things in black and white,” Rowena explained. “There is no grey area.”

“You still love him, though?” Quinn didn’t feel guilty asking, given that Rowena had questioned her about her own love life only moments ago, but before the other woman could respond Monique interrupted, taking a seat beside Quinn. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled. Jonas came to sit cross-legged before them, pulling up blades of grass and stripping them deftly between his fingers.

“You ready to get going?” Quinn asked.

“Not yet,” Monique pleaded.

“You’re welcome to stay for supper,” Rowena offered. “It’s nothing fancy, but there’s plenty to go around.”

“No; thank you, but we should really be getting back.” The afternoon sun still hovered innocently in the sky but Quinn preferred to head back sooner rather than later. “Half an hour,” she warned Monique. Jonas helped Monique up, and the two wandered off hand in hand.

“She doesn’t really relax, does she?” Jonas mused, as they passed Rowena’s truck and entered the trees.

“No,” Monique agreed. “She doesn’t. Isaiah says she’s one of the best Guardians he’s ever seen.”

“Isaiah,” Jonas feigned confusion. “He’s the leader, right?”

“Not really. It’s hard to explain. We’re all equal, but Isaiah and Daniel have been around the longest, so they’re kind of informally in charge.”

“How’s Lucky?” Jonas changed the subject abruptly, and Monique grinned.

“He’s fine. He’s growing by the minute. Kellan says we’ll have to move him soon.”

“To Giant’s Castle?”

“Yeah. I’m worried something might happen to him.”

“You do know he’s a dragon, not a kitten or a puppy?” he teased, and she shoved him with her shoulder. Their hands broke apart, and Monique stopped, wanting to take his back, but not sure if she had the nerve. Jonas turned to face her and her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t realised how deep into the woods they had come; the sounds from the campsite had completely disappeared. It was the first time they had been alone since the day he had snuck into Cliffdale.

Jonas seemed to realise the same thing as he turned to look back in the direction of the camp, and Monique felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Jonas must have noticed her blushing because he tensed, as if preparing himself to make the first move. Monique couldn’t know that, having never kissed a girl before, he was just as nervous as she was.

Determined, Jonas placed one foot in front of the other until they were almost touching. Monique stood perfectly still, staring at the ground between them. Summoning his courage, Jonas lifted her chin so that he could see her eyes. Monique’s heart stopped in the instant that their eyes met, and all of her embarrassment faded away. When Jonas’s dark head came towards her, she rose up to meet him without hesitation. Nothing could have prepared her for that first kiss. Back at school many of her friends had boasted about their first kiss, but Monique doubted that theirs had been anything like this. Her head swam and her toes tingled. Instinctively, she curled her arms around Jonas’s neck as his hands settled on her waist. It was gentle and unrushed, and, when it was over, he kissed the tip of her nose. Her answering smile was all the reassurance he needed. Jonas longed to kiss her again but, wary of Quinn’s chaperonage, and the fact that Monique would be mortified if they were caught, he took her small hand in his own and led her slowly back the way they had come.

Back at the camp Quinn checked her watch. She couldn’t see Monique anywhere. Excusing herself, she got to her feet but, before she could begin searching, Balthazar cut across her path.

“Going so soon?” he asked pleasantly.

“I’m afraid we must be getting home.”

“Where exactly is home?” he asked casually. “Do you live near here?”

“Not far,” she replied, non-committally.

“Do you live with your niece and her mother?” Quinn stiffened. He had glanced at her wrist.

“Yes,” she scanned the crowd of people in the clearing, trying to find Monique.

“Maybe I could bring Jonas around one afternoon? I’m sure he would enjoy the change of scenery...” Quinn stopped searching and faced him directly.

“What exactly is it that you want, Balthazar?” His eyes narrowed at the hostility in her voice but Quinn held her ground. She sensed that he knew more than he was letting on, particularly after Rowena’s openly honest comment about Drake. Then Balthazar’s gaze dropped once more to the heavy watch on her left wrist and her suspicions were confirmed.

“Why are you hanging around here, in New Haven?” she demanded. “You’ve been here for weeks. What are you looking for?” Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Rowena shaking her head, warning Balthazar to remain silent, but Balthazar knew the game was up. He had known from the moment he met Quinn that it was only a matter of time.

“You know what I’m looking for.”

A long silence followed these words and Quinn’s blood thundered in her ears as Rowena rushed toward them.

“You need to leave,” Quinn warned in a low voice. “Get your people out of here, today.”

“Or what?” Balthazar challenged. Every thought he may have entertained that the Guardians would hear him out died as he looked into Quinn’s unyielding tanzanite eyes.

“I won’t tell you again.” She turned on her heel and started searching in earnest.

“Or what?” Balthazar thundered, grabbing her shoulder and yanking her back around to face him. Quinn reacted instinctively. Snatching his hand off her shoulder, she twisted his arm savagely, kicking out at his legs and sweeping him off his feet, all the while keeping a firm grip on his wrist. A second later he hit the ground and she placed her booted foot against his throat. She twisted his raised arm further and he grunted with pain.

“Let him go,” Rowena snarled, brandishing a small silver dagger. Quinn smiled indulgently.

“Put that down before you get hurt.”

“Let him go,” Rowena repeated, moving closer. Quinn released Balthazar’s arm and in one swift movement, knocked the knife from Rowena’s hand.

A small crowd was gathering around them, having noticed the commotion.

“Call your people off,” Quinn warned, as Balthazar got to his feet. “You know what I am. Call them off, before things get ugly.”

“Everything’s fine,” he called, waving them away. When there was no risk of being overheard, Quinn continued.

“Now, I’m going to find Monique and, when we are gone, you’re going to pack up your things and get going.”

“We can’t do that.”

“I don’t think you understand me, Balthazar. I’m not asking you.”

“We have a right to be here.”

“No, you don’t. You seek something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“The wards belong to no-one,” he spat.

“True. But I am sworn to protect them.”

“You are sworn to protect them from those who would destroy them!” he countered furiously.

“Quinn!” Monique’s frantic voice yelled, and they turned to see her sprinting toward them, Jonas right behind her.

“What’s going on?” Jonas demanded, as they skidded to a halt.

“We’re leaving,” Quinn stated flatly.

“Dad?” Jonas was frantic, “what happened?” Both Quinn and Balthazar ignored him.

“You have twenty-four hours,” Quinn instructed.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

“Going?” Jonas shook his head, “what are you talking about?”

“If you’re not gone by tomorrow, I will bring the entire Guardianship down on you like a plague,” Quinn promised, before seizing Monique’s hand and hauling her out of the campsite.

Chapter 27

Drake cursed as he tossed and turned in his bed. Damn her! Before meeting Quinn he had slept only too easily but now his conscience pricked him. He didn’t like the way things had ended after their last meeting, but he couldn’t return to New Haven without information, which was proving more difficult to obtain than he had thought. He was getting nowhere and, since Lenora’s untimely arrival, Genevieve had withdrawn even more. He listened to the sound of her breathing beside him. That was another thing – he had always found Genevieve as sexy as hell but now, making love to her had lost its appeal. He growled into his pillow, willing sleep to come.

The sound of sirens in the street below broke the monotony of his insomnia. Curious, Drake drew back the bedroom curtains and watched as an ambulance careened down his street, streaking past his house and taking a left into Ridge road. Quinn’s house was on Ridge road. Drake dressed quickly and slipped out of the house.

When he first spotted the red lights flashing outside Quinn’s house, he thought the worst. Fearful that she might have returned without his knowledge, he knew a moment of pure, unadulterated terror. Then he spotted Sarah, her tear-streaked face a mess, and an instant later he recognised Todd, pallid and lifeless as the paramedics loaded him onto a stretcher. Making his way over, he touched Sarah’s shoulder. She jumped, barely recognising him in her distraught state.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Something attacked him,” she replied, her eyes fixed on Todd’s pale body. Not as lifeless as Drake initially thought, but barely breathing, Drake could see the blood spattered across his throat and soaking through his shirt. Sarah made to move towards him, but Drake held her back.

“Calm down,” he instructed, and Sarah’s body relaxed immediately. He didn’t have much time; a policeman with a notebook was hovering just out of earshot, speaking with one of the paramedics. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“We heard a noise in the backyard and Todd went outside to check it out. Then I heard him screaming. I found him near the fence, lying in a pool of blood. They’re saying it must have been a dog, but there’s no way a dog did that…” her voice broke.

Of course it hadn’t been a dog, of that Drake was certain. The bite wound on Todd’s neck was the work of a vampire. Drake’s first thought was that Genevieve was responsible, but she had been in bed with him when the attack occurred. Grimly, he recalled that there was another vampire currently residing in Brookfield: Lenora. Taking Sarah firmly by the shoulders he demanded her undivided attention. He couldn’t afford for her to start an investigation.

“It was a dog,” he murmured. “You saw it in the backyard. It was big and dark and it attacked Todd, but you managed to chase it away.” Sarah nodded mutely and Drake released her. He would have to pay Todd a visit in the hospital, if he survived, to make sure that he told the same story. The policeman stepped towards them, but Sarah quickly brushed him away, insisting that she needed to be with Todd and that she would give her statement later. She jumped into the back of the ambulance and it made a wide turn before heading back in the direction it had come, red lights flashing.

Drake waited until the small crowd of neighbours had dispersed and the police cars had vacated the area before he crept into Sarah’s backyard. He followed the scent of fresh blood and soon found the place where Todd had been attacked. A dark stain marred the green grass, and a small wooden bench had been overturned nearby, but there was no sign of Todd’s attacker. Wearily, Drake headed home to confront his oldest friend.

It was hours before Lenora finally pulled open the front door. Her foot was halfway over the threshold when Drake seized her and hauled her into the house.

“How dare you!” he snarled, tossing her onto the sofa. Lenora was back on her feet in an instant.

“What is your problem?” she hissed furiously.

“A boy in the next street was attacked tonight… by a vampire,” he added pointedly.

“So?”

“This town is my home. You of all people should know how important it is to keep a low profile if we wish to settle anywhere for any length of time.”

“Wait a minute,” Lenora had finally twigged, “you think I had something to do with this?”

“You’re saying you didn’t?”

“Give me some credit. I taught you how to blend in, remember? Why on earth would I do something so stupid?”

She had a point and, more importantly, Drake believed her. Lenora was honest to the point of brutality; she wouldn’t lie about something like this.

“But then who?” He straightened the strap of her dress which had slipped off her shoulder.

“My money’s on Genevieve,” she replied tactlessly.

“Genevieve was with me.” Lenora looked as though she had just tasted something that didn’t agree with her.

“Well, if it wasn’t her, then the obvious conclusion is that there is another vampire in town. And don’t look at me like that,” she added. “I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. Nobody followed me here.”

She must be mistaken, Drake thought. It was too coincidental; Lenora arriving in town and a vampire attack only a few days later.

“Aren’t you going to draw those?” Lenora asked, gesturing at the heavily-lined curtains. In his agitation, Drake had almost forgotten the sun was less than an hour away. He kept the fact that the sun didn’t affect him a secret, knowing that if other vampires learned the truth, he would be hounded mercilessly as to how. Day-walking was something that most vampires only dreamed about. He had never told Genevieve, Lenora, or even Charlotte, although he would have told her in time, if she had remained human. It was a secret he protected above all else and yet he had not been able to bring himself to let Quinn die that morning she had been attacked by Genevieve’s men. Ironically, the first person who had learned the truth about him, was a Guardian.

Quickly he drew the curtains and Lenora visibly relaxed.

“I think it’s time I got some sleep,” she announced, getting to her feet. She had taken only a few steps toward the stairs when she turned, in a half-crouch, toward the front door. Drake sensed it too, and he darted forward, stepping between her and the front door as it swung open.

Drake’s mouth pressed into a grim line as he recognised the uninvited guest. Stepping out from behind a thick-set, golden-haired man who reeked of the musky scent synonymous with werewolves, was Charlotte.

“Shut the door, Tane,” Charlotte crooned, breaking the astonished silence. Both Drake and Lenora resisted the urge to attack the wolf, but they had long fought the lure of the blood of their enemies, and Drake was so dumbstruck by Charlotte’s presence in his home that he barely noticed the wolf, his eyes fixed on the evil girl he had tried so hard to forget. Genevieve on the other hand had embraced the Quest, and she flew down the stairs, her fangs bared. Drake reached for her as she passed, but she dodged him easily. As she lunged toward Tane, Charlotte moved, so quickly that neither Drake nor Lenora could stop her. She struck, and Genevieve was knocked aside with the force of the blow, crashing into the marble table that adorned the hall.

Drake reacted instinctively, but Charlotte was too quick for him. A silver stake appeared in her hand as if by magic, and she pressed it firmly against Lenora’s back, before Drake could lay a finger on her.

“You would do well to teach your friend some restraint,” she sneered, inclining her head toward Genevieve. “Tane is under the protection of the council, and, as such, he may not be harmed.”

“You’re consorting with wolves now, Charlotte?” Drake had regained control of his senses and his voice oozed with derision. “Isn’t that a little beneath you?”

“Not at all,” she smiled. “Tane is an exceptional individual, far removed from the filth of his kind. Now, are you going to play nice, or am I going to have to stake your pretty friend here?” Both Genevieve and Lenora were older than Charlotte, but the presence of the stake put control firmly in Charlotte’s hot little hand.

Genevieve groaned from where she lay on the floor and Drake was beside her in an instant, his mind whirling. What was Charlotte doing here? It certainly explained the attack on Todd’s life, but he found himself wishing Lenora had been responsible after all. Blood trickled from a gash on Genevieve’s temple, but it was her pride that was most wounded.

“Let her go,” Drake met Charlotte’s icy gaze over Lenora’s shoulder. “I give you my word no harm will come to you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Genevieve rasped.

“Ah, you must be Sebastian’s sister,” Charlotte grinned. “I wish I could offer my condolences over your brother’s disappearance, but in truth, he did me a favour. You see, I have taken his seat on the council.” Genevieve gasped in outrage. Drake, however, already knew. It was the only reason he had not attacked Charlotte the second she walked in the door. Her position protected her.

“You’re lying,” Genevieve hissed.

“She’s not.” Despite their differences, Lenora sounded almost sorry for Genevieve.

“Finally! Someone with a little common sense!” Charlotte released Lenora triumphantly.

“What do you want?” Drake asked wearily.

“Don’t be like that,’ Charlotte simpered, “Aren’t you even a little happy to see me? After everything we shared?” she added spitefully, as Genevieve’s face fell.

“No, I’m not.” Drake replied. “You’re still a vindictive bitch, Charlotte. I assume it was you who attacked the boy down the street?”

“I was hungry,” she pouted. “And he was too delicious to pass up.” Drake noticed Tane’s eyes narrow.

“You think she cares about you?” he asked. “That she will be faithful to you? You’re barking up the wrong tree. Of all the vampires in the world, you decided to trust this one? You must be stupider than you look.”

“Tane,” Charlotte held out a restraining arm as the wolf made toward Drake, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Don’t.” Drake was no ordinary vampire. Charlotte knew just how deadly he could be and she still needed Tane.

Staring into Drake’s startlingly green eyes, Charlotte realised just how much he had changed. He was still as sexy as hell, damn him, but there was also a coldness to him that she had never seen before. It only made him that much more appealing. Drake had always been powerful, but his love for her had made him weak. Now, strength radiated off him. Charlotte could only imagine what they could achieve together.

Genevieve noticed the predatory look in Charlotte’s eyes, and her lip curled.

“Genevieve, I think we should let these two catch up,” Lenora spoke, sensing trouble brewing. Genevieve could not attack a member of the council without paying the price, no matter how provoked.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Genevieve, go upstairs, now.” Drake’s tone left no room for argument.

“Tane, go and enjoy the sunshine,” Charlotte instructed, as Genevieve let Lenora lead her away. “Take your time.” Wordlessly, the wolf slipped back outside into the cold light of day.

“You’ve changed,” Charlotte said when they were finally alone. Drake didn’t acknowledge the implied compliment.

“What do you want?”

“I’ve changed, too. I’m not the same person I was before.”

“You’re exactly the same.”

“I’ve missed you.” Again, he refused to rise, and Charlotte moved closer. “Have you missed me at all? Even a tiny bit?”

“No.”

“I think you’re lying. You loved me once. That kind of emotion doesn’t simply disappear.” She reached for him, and then very deliberately drew her hand back. Drake looked as though he had been turned to stone, and she felt a thrill run through her. He was not as unaffected by her presence as he wanted her to believe. “You left me,” she injected just the right amount of hurt and regret into her voice.

“I salvaged what little pride I had left to me,” he corrected, “and I doubt you even noticed.”

“That’s not true! I searched everywhere for you.” Drake didn’t bother correcting her. They both knew she was lying, but Charlotte loved her theatrics and she could play this game for hours.

“What do you want?” he asked again.

“I want you to say you forgive me. I treated you terribly, but you must know I never stopped loving…”

“Cut the crap,” he snapped. “You’re not capable of love. Why don’t you skip this little act and get to the real reason why you’re here?”

She put on a great show of wounded vulnerability. Tears shone liquid in her brown eyes, spilling over the thick sooty lashes to glide down her porcelain smooth cheeks. Drake ran his hands through his hair in sheer frustration.

“I don’t have time for your games, Charlotte.”

This time, she didn’t hold back. Like an insecure child looking for reassurance, Charlotte threw herself forward, slipping her slim arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. Her fragile form was so familiar, evoking long suppressed memories, and Drake hated himself for not being able to forget.

“I’m not playing games,” she murmured thickly. Despite her innocent act, Drake could hardly fail to notice the expert way she pressed herself against him, or his body’s traitorous reaction to her bold touch. Charlotte suppressed a snide smile. Instead, she composed her features into the most sincere expression and gazed up at him. “I want you back, Drake.”

“That,” he murmured huskily, dropping his head so that their mouths were only an inch apart, “is never going to happen, you homicidal bitch.”

She didn’t react, but, realising that Drake wasn’t going to succumb to her wiles so easily, Charlotte changed tactics.

“I believe you still have no interest in the Quest.”

“None at all.” he replied, relieved that she was finally getting to the real reason she was here.

“May I ask why?”

“Because it is a fool’s errand. A waste of our time. We will never find the City and, even if we did, what good would it do?” It was the standard answer he always gave when questioned on the subject. “The Guardians would simply release the heir, and with him, all of the Fae magic. We would be right back where we started.” It was exactly the answer Charlotte had been hoping for.

“What if I were to tell you that we could secure the crystals? That Wintyr would be locked in that temple for the rest of eternity?” Drake laughed coldly.

“I would tell you that you are not the first person to come up with that idea. In case you’ve forgotten, we have witnessed what happens when a crystal is stolen.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” she murmured softly. That was the night she had been turned. Drake’s face fell as he recalled the last night she had been gloriously, truly human. The last night she had loved him to the depth of her soul.

“Well then, you should know that we will never possess even one crystal, let alone twelve.”

“You’re wrong,” she whispered, coming to sit beside him. “Tane’s brother, Caleb, is inside the City as we speak.” Drake only just barely kept his emotions in check at the mention of the wolf’s name. He had heard it before – from Quinn. Caleb was the very wolf he had suspected of murdering her sister. It didn’t bring him any comfort knowing that he had been right. “And,” Charlotte continued, licking her lips, “I have a Guardian.” At this, his head jerked up. He could not contain himself.

“What do you mean, ‘you have a Guardian’?” he demanded.

“I mean there is a Judas in their midst. The Guardianship has fallen.” Drake’s mind spun as he processed this new information. It was unthinkable; impossible.

“This could change everything,” Charlotte’s mouth was at his ear. “I know you have lost your faith, but I can change that, if you’ll let me.”

Drake’s stomach turned. She wasn’t lying. And if she wasn’t lying, it meant that Summerfeld was in grave danger - that Quinn was in grave danger. Despising himself, he let Charlotte’s hand move up his thigh, her fingertips light as a feather’s touch. Sensing the change in him, Charlotte smiled.

“I want you beside me,” she breathed, her eyes liquid and inviting. “Will you join me, Drake?” As he lowered his head to hers, Drake didn’t know what was worse; the fact that he was making a deal with the devil, or the fact that a small part of him was enjoying it.

Chapter 28

“You threatened him?” Daniel sounded suitably impressed. Quinn had found him together with Isaiah in the Cathedral upon her return. She had insisted Monique wait while she explained what had happened.

“I did,” Quinn confirmed. “I had to, Daniel. There’s too much at stake, we can’t let this go.”

“I wasn’t criticising you. You did the right thing. The gypsies are dangerous.” She knew he didn’t mean that literally. They were no match for the Guardians, but they were desperate, and if they discovered the City’s location, there was no limit to what measures they might take to expose it.

“Thank you,” Quinn acknowledged the rare compliment, “but I don’t know how much good it did. They know who we are. Which means they know the City is somewhere in this general vicinity.”

“They can’t find it. They’ll never cross the portal on their own; but the gypsies are crafty,” Isaiah pointed out. “It won’t be long before they follow one of us! It’s not safe, them being here.”

“I agree,” Daniel murmured. “We need to get rid of them. Do you think they’ll leave, Quinn? After your warning?”

“No,” Quinn shook her head. “He’s a stubborn bastard, that Balthazar.”

Isaiah turned to Monique. “You know how serious this is?” he asked, his amber eyes holding hers.

“Yes,” she nodded meekly. She couldn’t believe that everything had escalated so quickly. She and Jonas had been so careful, and yet Balthazar had figured it out. He had known what Quinn was. Monique couldn’t blame Quinn for the way she had reacted, but she wondered if Quinn would go through with the threats she had made. Looking at her now, Quinn’s chest rising and falling heavily with each breath, and the rigid set of her jaw, Monique suspected she would.

“Monique, you understand why you can never see Jonas again?” Isaiah spoke slowly and deliberately. Quinn recognised the tone – it was the same one he had used when he asked her to keep the findings of Avery’s exhumation a secret. Quinn waited for Monique to argue. She expected the girl to go berserk, her heart ruling her head as it had done countless times before. Instead, Monique nodded, tears shining in the blue of her eyes. It was worse, so much worse, than the reaction Quinn had anticipated. “I’m sorry,” Isaiah placed a reassuring hand on Monique’s shoulder.

“May I go now?” Monique whispered, and Isaiah released her.

“Of course.”

She scarpered, and Quinn watched her departure without really seeing her. In her mind’s eye she saw only Balthazar, determined and ceaseless in his search.

“I’m going to stop him,” she muttered, almost to herself.

“How?” Isaiah asked. Even Daniel seemed to be waiting for her answer, his eyes measuring her, weighing her up, as though he was trying to figure something out. He had been acting differently round her ever since she killed Caleb, as though she was a ticking time-bomb that might detonate any minute.

“I’m not sure yet. But trust me, I will do whatever it takes to protect Summerfeld.”

When Quinn had passed through the Gateway, Daniel turned to Isaiah.

“You still believe she’s the one?” he asked thoughtfully.

“I do.”

“How can you be so sure? The prophecy speaks only of a woman… what makes you think it’s Quinn?”

“I just do,” Isaiah replied simply.

“She’s reckless.”

“She is,” Isaiah smiled as though it were a compliment.

“You have grown too fond of her, Isaiah,” Daniel cautioned. “If Quinn is indeed the one mentioned in the scrolls, she may just as easily be our downfall as our saviour.”

“I know the prophecy,” Isaiah reminded.

“Then you recall that it mentions a bond with her enemy?” The prophecy they spoke of was known only to them. It was too heavy a burden for the others to carry. It spoke of a choice that would either save or condemn them all – a choice that would be made by one woman.

“Yes, I remember,” Isaiah sighed, “but Quinn will make the right choice.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Daniel asked, searching Isaiah’s face for any sign of hesitation. He found none.

“Then you have my blessing to do what needs to be done,” said Isaiah.

“Then for your sake I hope that it is not Quinn. I do not wish to cause you pain, but if it is her choice that will either save or condemn us and she chooses wrong, I will not let her destroy everything we have sworn to protect.”

Daniel hoisted his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. He had been on his way out to join the other Hunters when Quinn had arrived.

“Will you be long?” Isaiah asked.

“Piper has uncovered a coven a few hundred miles away. We need to attend to it, but I will be back as soon as I can. I don’t like to leave with this new development, but I trust you can handle the gypsies in my absence?” he smiled wryly at Isaiah.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Isaiah replied.

Oblivious to the fact that she was the subject of such a significant conversation, Quinn headed over to Kellan’s in search of Monique. She suspected that the girl would seek solace with the dragons, and she wanted to talk to her about what had happened. Arriving at Kellan’s she went straight round the back to the shed but Monique wasn’t there. Instead, she found Velkan playing with the hatchlings, while Anaise’s daughter Mairin looked on.

Kellan had insisted that no-one venture near the hatchlings for a while to ensure that they didn’t bond with anyone other than their chosen Faery handler. He had selected Velkan over Mairin, simply because he had more experience, and, despite his wife’s insistence that Mairin was just as capable, he couldn’t bring himself to task a woman with such a dangerous task. With the arrival of baby Sage, it was not possible for Kellan to take up the responsibility of the hatchlings himself and Velkan had willingly volunteered. Velkan had worked side-by-side with Kellan for years and he knew the risks involved.

“Hi Mairin,” Quinn greeted her first. “I heard you had taken up an apprenticeship with Kellan. How are you enjoying it?”

“It’s amazing,” Mairin smiled shyly. “I’m very grateful to him for accepting me.” Quinn recalled Kellan’s infinite patience with her and Avery when they were children.

“I’m sure you’ll learn a lot; he’s an exceptional teacher. Are we allowed to touch them yet?” she teased, addressing Velkan, who sat just inside the door of the shed, tossing raw meat up into the air. The Chumana babies scrabbled greedily, shoving one another aside. Quinn winced as Lucky, smaller than the others despite being born first, was knocked aside and trampled in the mad frenzy.

“Not yet,” Velkan was apologetic. “There are still one or two that Kellan is concerned about. They others have all bonded with me – well, except for him,” he scooped Lucky up, out of harm’s way and received a singed sleeve for his efforts. “His bark is worse than his bite,” Velkan laughed, scuffing Lucky across the nose and then scratching him behind the ears. “Although he always plays up when his mistress is gone.”

“Where is she?” Quinn asked, seizing upon the topic of Monique.

“I’m not sure; I haven’t seen her today.”

“Okay, I’ll check at Camille’s. Thanks.” As she passed Mairin she added, “Please send my thanks to your dad. My shower feels like Niagara Falls since he was there last week. He’ll know what that means,” she added, as Mairin looked blank. It was easy to forget that the younger members of the Fae had never been outside of Summerfeld’s boundaries.

“I’ll tell him,” Mairin promised. Her father, Harlan, worked long hours to ensure that the Guardian homes ran smoothly.

Quinn bumped into Kellan as she reached the road.

“Quinn, so lovely to see you,” he called, coming over to give her a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for Monique.”

“I saw her a few minutes ago, heading toward the unicorn glade.” Quinn hadn’t been so wrong after all; Monique hadn’t gone to see the dragons, but she had sought comfort from other wards. “While you’re here,’ Kellan continued happily, “I wonder if you might accompany us on Friday, up Giant’s Castle. We’re trying to find a safe place to relocate the Chumanas. Mairin is coming along and I’d feel better if we had some Guardian protection.”

“Sure,” Quinn nodded. “I’ll ask Tristan to come along too. Friday, you said?”

“Yes. I’d like to wait for this storm to blow over,” he indicated the dark clouds rolling in overhead. “I think we’re in for a few days of rain.”

Chapter 29

The climb up Giant’s Castle was grueling and Tristan slipped as a rock was dislodged beneath his foot, careening down the steep path below him.

“You okay?” Quinn called back, and he nodded. Monique muttered under her breath behind him, and Tristan grinned at her.

“You know you could stop sulking. We’re just scouting the area; it’s not as if you have to abandon Lucky today.” Monique saw the exploratory journey as yet another reminder that she would soon be separated from the baby dragon. Monique was coping with the loss of Jonas remarkably well. When the Guardians had told her she couldn’t see him anymore, Quinn had expected her to argue, but she had agreed with their decision; a haunted, hollow acceptance that belied her tender age.

Watching Velkan offering Monique his hand over a particularly steep chasm, she thought it fairly obvious that the Faery had taken a liking to the young Guardian. The Fae aged, but infinitely slowly. Velkan had been born almost two hundred years ago, but he was a fresh-faced youth. Quinn had never heard of a Fae-Guardian pairing, but she thought it far preferable to the unsuitable coupling of Monique and Jonas. Unfortunately, Monique seemed oblivious of Velkan’s regard.

“You spoke with Isaiah about the gypsies?” Tristan interrupted Quinn’s thoughts after checking that Monique wasn’t within earshot. The group had converged closer together over a flatter section of the plateau. Tristan had not spoken to Quinn much since Caleb’s death, and the dark circles below his eyes indicated it was hurting him as much as it was her.

“I did. He seems to think there’s not much we can do about it.”

“But you disagree?” Tristan gave her an arch look but Quinn ignored it. “Do you think Balthazar heeded your warning?”

“No,” she shook her head grimly. “I don’t.”

“They won’t find the Cathedral,” he spoke with absolute certainty. “And even if they do, there’s not much they can do, not against eleven trained Guardians.”

Quinn knew this to be true, but still, she was worried. She couldn’t suppress a nagging suspicion that they were underestimating Balthazar.

“What do you think?” Kellan’s voice interrupted. Quinn glanced up to see that they had reached the edge of a natural basin in the rock. It was over half a mile wide and at least half of that in depth.

“It looks good to me,” Tristan replied, “but how do we get down here?”

“There,” Velkan pointed to a section up ahead, where a rock fall had created a rudimentary staircase.

They made their way over to it and started to climb down. Tristan went first, testing the structural integrity. Much to everyone’s relief, it was sound, and, one by one, they climbed down.

“It’ll work,” Velkan confirmed when they had reached the bottom. The basin was only an hour’s hike from town, and far enough from Dragon’s Peak that the hatchlings would be relatively safe here until they were big enough to fend for themselves. There were also a few shallow caves peppering the northern wall which would provide cover if they needed it and rainwater gathered in small pools on the uneven ground.

“Good,” Kellan said, agreeing with Velkan. “It looks like our precious Chumanas have a new home.”

Monique couldn’t find any fault with their surroundings, but she looked even glummer than before. Quinn sympathised. Monique had bonded with Lucky just as much as he had with her. Velkan moved closer to her.

“I’ll be out here every day,” he said, “bringing them food. You’re welcome to come with me and then you’ll see him all the time.”

“I guess,” Monique agreed. “It just won’t be the same.”

It was a solemn walk back. Monique’s depression affected everyone, until Kellan stopped suddenly, a small smile crossing over his face.

“There’s something that might make you feel better,” he murmured to Monique, pointing down the mountainside at what appeared to be a large boulder. Monique frowned, not quite knowing what she was looking at. Then the giant moved.

“Oh,” Monique’s eyes danced with excitement. It was the first time she had seen them close-up. “He’s so big,” she breathed.

“Actually, that’s a female,” Quinn grinned.

“How can you tell?”

“The hair,” Velkan interrupted quickly, determined to impress. Monique squinted at the enormous figure, finally spotting what looked like an old bird’s nest perched on the crown of the giant’s head. “The males are completely bald,” Velkan continued, pointing to another giant who had just come into view. At the sight of him, the female gave a roar of recognition that reverberated through the mountains surrounding them before lumbering over to her mate and shoving him so hard that he fell over. Monique laughed out loud and Quinn and Kellan moved away, allowing Velkan to explain more about the giants to his captive audience of one.

“Do you think we’ll see any dwarves?” Monique asked after a time.

“No,” Velkan shook his head. “They share this range with the Giants, but they won’t venture too close to them – they might get eaten. They’ll be staying far away from this pair.”

When they finally made their way back to town Quinn was surprised that Tristan followed her toward Camille’s house.

“You’re going to visit Jack and Ava?” he asked, and then, when she answered yes, “me too.”

Quinn was acutely aware that this was the first time they had been alone since the disastrous incident at the movie theatre.

“No, you know what,” Tristan announced suddenly, taking her hand and pulling her in a different direction. “We can do that later. You and I need to talk.” Quinn let him lead her all the way up to his front door. Only when they were inside did he finally let go of her hand.

“I can’t stand much more of this,” he spoke candidly. “I only just got you back and I feel like I’m losing you all over again.”

“You’re not losing me. We’re just… this whole situation is so complicated.”

“Tell me about it! I feel like a teenager again. I have no idea how to act around you, what to say. Please tell me I’m not alone.”

“You’re not,” Quinn smiled, relieved to hear him say it. “This is completely awkward. And it doesn’t help that all this other stuff keeps cropping up.”

“You mean like an entire dragon species verging on extinction, the first female werewolf Alpha in the history of time, a convoy of gypsies settling on our doorstep and you killing a ward and becoming besties with a vampire?” he grinned hysterically.

“Yeah, that stuff.” Quinn fought the urge to laugh. It was as if her entire world had been turned upside down and she didn’t know which way was up anymore.

“Are you still seeing him?” Tristan asked suddenly, sobering her. She had expected the Caleb issue to far outweigh his concern over Drake.

“No,” she answered truthfully. “He’s gone.” Tristan tried to figure out if she was telling the truth.

“Good.”

“Tristan, you do know that he’s just a friend… nothing more.” All the weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.

“I needed to hear that,” he admitted.

“Look we have a lot on our plates, but I meant what I said, we’re okay.” The truth about Avery’s death reared its ugly head and Quinn averted her eyes.

“But you still can’t tell me what’s going on?” Tristan probed, sensing her discomfort. “The secret you’re keeping from me?”

“No, I can’t. I’m…”

“Don’t apologise,” he cut her short. “Just know that I’m here if you need me.”

“I know. Thank you.” She half-expected him to kiss her, but he didn’t and she felt oddly deflated.

“We’ll get through this,” he promised, “together.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Determined, Quinn headed for the Gateway. She would have it out with Isaiah once and for all. She couldn’t keep the truth about Avery’s death a secret, not from Tristan, not anymore. It had already almost driven a wedge between them, and she doubted that their relationship could survive if he found out what she had been keeping from him.

As she neared the courtyard Quinn noticed Monique ahead of her. She was about to call out, but something about the furtive way Monique was moving made her stop. When Monique disappeared through the Gateway, Quinn increased her pace. As she landed in the Cathedral she heard Isaiah’s voice.

“Have fun,” he called, as the Cathedral doors slammed shut. “Hello Quinn,” he added, turning to face her.

“Where is Monique?” Quinn asked, all thoughts of Tristan gone.

“She’s gone for a walk. She loves it out there in the woods, she’s forever wandering around. Why, is something the matter?”

“No,” Quinn shook her head lightly. “I just saw Camille and she asked me to fetch her.”

“Let me get her,” Isaiah offered.

“No need, I’ll do it.” Quinn smiled.

It took her only a few minutes to track Monique down. Oblivious of her tail, Monique didn’t try to conceal the sound of her footsteps as she trampled through the fallen leaves littering the forest floor. When she finally stopped, Quinn took cover behind the trunk of an old oak tree. What she saw next shocked her to the very core.

“What took you so long?” Jonas appeared as if from nowhere. He must have been hiding behind another tree.

“Sorry, it took longer than I thought.”

“Did you find anywhere suitable?”

“We did. It’s the best we can do, I guess, but I’m still dreading leaving him.”

“Like I keep telling you,” Jonas teased, “he’s a dragon. He will be fine.” Monique smiled up at him, and Jonas leaned forward to kiss her when a movement caught his attention over her shoulder. Jonas froze, all the blood draining from his face. The look on Quinn’s face confirmed that she had heard everything and filled Jonas with fear.

“What in God’s name are you doing?” Quinn yelled, the sound sending birds soaring from the trees around them.

“Quinn!” Monique stepped away from Jonas as though he had burned her, filled with dread. “What are you doing here?”

“I followed you,” Quinn strode toward them, a blazing expression marring her pretty face. “What have you done Monique? What have you done?”

“Please,” Monique backed away. She had always liked Quinn, but she had never understood how truly intimidating she could be until this moment. Gone was the kind, compassionate woman Monique had come to know, and in her place stood an unyielding warrior. “I’m sorry,” Monique stammered, her fear for Jonas’s safety growing by the second. “This is my fault…I did this; Jonas had nothing to do with it.”

“What the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve put the life of every single creature inside there in danger!” she pointed back at the Cathedral.
“It’s not her fault!” Jonas had finally found his tongue. “She didn’t bring me in here… my father did.” As the words left his mouth he knew he had made a terrible mistake. Quinn’s features morphed from outrage, to shock and then horror.

“Balthazar has been here?”

“Yes,” there was no going back now, “but I swear, he doesn’t know I’m here. I haven’t told him anything he didn’t already know. I wouldn’t betray you,” he added desperately to Monique.

“He wouldn’t,” Monique agreed hastily.

“He didn’t have to,” Quinn spat at her. “You have betrayed us all. Isaiah was wrong about you,” she added disdainfully, snatching at Monique’s wrist. “You’re not worthy of this tattoo.”

Jonas stepped forward. He would not allow her to manhandle Monique, no matter how provoked. But as he lifted his arms to separate them, Quinn made her move. Jonas felt only a flash of blinding pain in his neck and then everything went black.

Chapter 30

Isaiah took one look at the figure walking through the doors carrying the unconscious body, and he knew immediately what had happened. Quinn had held true to her promise and carried out her threat, just as he had known she would. Isaiah had always known Quinn was exceptional, but for the first time he could see that she was beginning to believe it too, and she was growing in courage and conviction by the day.

“I found them both in the woods,” Quinn ground out through gritted teeth as she laid Jonas down on the council table. Monique sobbed pitifully in her wake, whether tears of remorse for what she had done, or concern for her friend, Isaiah did not know. He hoped it was both.

“They know,” Quinn announced, and Isaiah cursed. The gypsies had finally discovered Summerfeld’s exact location.

“I’m sorry,” Monique looked to him for the forgiveness that Quinn had denied her but Isaiah’s face was a mask, giving nothing away.

“Go home, Monique,” he answered curtly. “I will send for you shortly.”

“What about Jonas? Will he be okay?”

“He’ll live, if that’s what you’re asking,” Quinn replied.

“What are you going to do with him?”

“Monique!” Isaiah would stand no more questions. “Get out of here!” With renewed sobbing, she raced across the stone floor and vanished through the Gateway.

“What did you do to him?” Isaiah asked when she was gone.

“I just knocked him out.”

“You’re sure they all know? Perhaps it’s just him…?”

“His father brought him here initially, through the enchantments. To her credit, Monique wasn’t the one who showed him the way.”

“Well, there’s something in that, I suppose.”

“What will happen to her?” What Monique had done was unprecedented, but as furious as Quinn was, she felt sorry for her. “Will she be punished?”

“I am inclined to believe that she is being punished enough, already,” Isaiah murmured, gazing down at Jonas. Quinn thought back to her guilt over her friendship with Drake, and felt inclined to agree.

“The real question is what will we do with him?” Isaiah mused.

“He’s not getting out of here,” Quinn answered. “I gave Balthazar a chance and he chose not to listen. They will not leave New Haven, but having Jonas ensures that they will not put one foot inside the City.”

Isaiah watched her closely, struck once again by the passion with which she spoke of Summerfeld. Caleb’s death had been proof of the lengths she would go to to protect the wards. Quinn would take that extra step, cross the line between the acceptable and the necessary. The Guardianship had never been more fragile and tough decisions needed to be made. If she was indeed the woman King Eldon had prophesised, it was time to set her free and let fate take its course.

“As you wish,” Isaiah said simply.

“You can’t do this!” Monique wailed, as Quinn carried Jonas’s still sleeping form towards the cornflower field. Monique had ignored Isaiah’s instruction to return home and been waiting at the fountain when Quinn came through the Gateway.

“You did this,” Quinn reminded her coldly.

“Then punish me!”
“Monique?” Camille rushed toward them. “I was just coming to look for you…what’s going…?” she trailed off as she caught sight of Jonas.

“Monique has been meeting him secretly in the woods,” Quinn explained. “I need you to take her home now.”

“Monique?” Camille turned to her daughter in disbelief. Not being a Guardian herself, she might not appreciate the gravity of Monique’s crime, but the thought of her fifteen-year-old daughter sneaking off to meet a boy alone in the woods, was something no mother would be happy to hear.

“Mom… it’s not like that! We were just talking!”

“You can talk in public,” Camille’s low tone was seething and full of mistrust. Leaving them to it, Quinn continued on.

She dumped Jonas unceremoniously down on the soft grass and waited. It wasn’t long before he stirred. Quinn sat perfectly still, waiting for him to recover. When he did, he rose to a sitting position, eying her warily before taking in their surroundings. The instant that his eyes left Quinn’s face, Jonas all but forgot she was there. He could barely believe what he was seeing. He knew immediately that he had finally entered the City of Summerfeld, and, despite the fact that he should be terrified, there was something so breathtakingly beautiful about it that he was not afraid. The air seemed to thrum with a magical energy, and the spectrum of colour was too vivid to exist in any one place.

“I am sure you know where you are,” Quinn murmured, He was so entranced with the majestic splendour of his surroundings that it took a moment for her words to sink in, but when they did all of Jonas’s misgivings crept stealthily back, settling into a cold ache within the very base of his spine... Somehow, Quinn’s icy calm was even more terrifying than her previous fury. “I hope it was worth it, because now that you are here you will never be allowed to leave.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“You can’t keep me here,” Jonas said, but Quinn simply smiled knowingly. “It’s not your decision,” he stammered, wracking his brain. “The Guardian council has to vote.” He knew the instant he spoke the words that it was the wrong thing to say. Quinn’s lips pressed together in an ugly line as he revealed just how much he knew of their secrets.

“The council will agree with me,” she spat, “all except for Monique, of course, and as I am sure you know, one vote holds no power against the rest. Particularly,” she added cruelly, “when that vote comes from someone who has betrayed the council.”

“Please,” Jonas changed tactics, “don’t punish Monique. I’m sorry I snuck in, it was stupid. My father doesn’t even know I’ve been coming here… it’s my mistake. I won’t do it again.”

“It’s too late for that.” Quinn got to her feet. “You’re free to explore and get to know the City, but I would strongly suggest you stick to the town. Summerfeld is beautiful but it can be deadly if you don’t belong here, and you, Jonas, definitely don’t belong here.”

She left him then to mull over her words, knowing Monique would find him before he got himself into any real trouble. On her way back to the Cathedral she stopped by Kellan’s shed to see Velkan.

“If you happen to see Piper, could you tell her Isaiah needs her in the Cathedral as soon as possible?” she asked politely. “Isaiah and I are heading out to the Unicorn Glade for a bit.”

“Sure,” Velkan nodded.

“Thanks,” Quinn smiled. She made her way slowly back to the fountain and into the Cathedral itself.

“How long do you think it will take them?” Isaiah asked pleasantly as she joined him at the council table. Quinn watched the steam rising from his teacup.

“Not long,” she smiled.

“Would you like to do a bit of training while we wait?” he asked and Quinn grinned, getting to her feet and facing him head-on in the centre of the vast room.

“It’s been three hours,” Isaiah panted much later. “Aren’t you worried something might happen to him?”

“No,” Quinn replied, “and I’m done,” she added, falling back into her seat. She and Isaiah were fairly evenly matched, and it was hard to say who had won the most combats during their grueling session. She suspected he had, but only by a small margin. She wondered idly how much longer it would take, and, as if on cue, two people appeared at the altar.

“It took you long enough,” Quinn announced pleasantly. They had known Monique would try and sneak Jonas out of the City. He needed a Guardian to bring him through the Gateway and Monique was the only one who would. They had laid a false trail to test this theory by telling Velkan that the Cathedral was empty. It was a measure of how enchanted Velkan was with Monique that he had relayed the information to her.

Monique trembled under their scrutiny. Quinn expected Jonas to make a run for the open doors, but he stood his ground, refusing to leave Monique’s side.

“Would you like to take him back, or should I?” Quinn asked Monique, and her shoulders stooped.

“We can’t keep him here,” she implored.

“We can,” Isaiah said, “and we will. I’m sorry, son, but we cannot let you go.”

“My father will come for me.” Strangely, Jonas didn’t sound as though he relished the thought. He dreaded a fight between his and Monique’s people, knowing that one way or another, it would destroy them both.

“On the contrary, your father will stay away because of you,” Quinn said, “and Monique, you should be happier about this. Now you get to spend as much time with Jonas as your heart desires. Show him around, introduce him to Lucky. He’s your responsibility.”

“Do not try this again, Jonas,” Isaiah added. “As Monique is now aware, I do not leave the Cathedral. There is no escape.”

“Well that went better than I expected,” he mused when they were gone.

“I’m going to see Balthazar.” As Quinn reached for the doors, Isaiah stopped her.

“Quinn, wait. You can’t go alone. I sent for someone to accompany you.”

“Who?” Her question was answered a moment later as the doors opened, revealing her father standing beside her car. Quinn groaned. Of all the Guardians, her father was the last person she would have chosen to help with this mission. Isaiah followed her down the Cathedral steps.

True to his nature her father’s first words were to question her judgment.

“How did you allow this to happen?” Braddon demanded. “The child was your responsibility; you were charged with chaperoning her visits to the gypsy camp.”

“Which I did perfectly well. The gypsies found their way here without my help, Braddon.”

“Quinn is right. In fact, if it wasn’t for her we would be blissfully unaware of their discovery,” Isaiah pointed out. Braddon was silent for a long moment and then a simple “I’ll drive” was all the apology she got.

“Your faith in me is inspiring,” Quinn remarked as they drove toward the gypsy camp. “You know, I have, at the very least, earned your respect. Granted, I will never be anywhere near Avery’s standard in your eyes, but I am sick to death of your constant disappointment.”

“Is that what you think? That I favoured your sister?”

“Don’t sound so shocked. Discretion was never your strong point. It’s okay, it doesn’t bother me,” she added, “it’s just getting a little old.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped.

“Park here,” she indicated the shoulder of the road. “We’re close enough. And do me one favour; let me handle this. I know these people.”

Wordlessly, he followed her through the trees.

They found the camp a hive of activity. At first, nobody even noticed them, but then the man who Drake had attacked spotted Quinn and he gave a yell of recognition.

“Quinn!” Balthazar pummeled his way toward her.

“Hello Balthazar.”

“Where is my son?”

“Jonas? Is he missing?”

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare make light of this! What have you done with my son?”
“Your son ventured somewhere he shouldn’t have,” she murmured meaningfully and Balthazar’s eyes widened in understanding.

“Leave us!” he roared and the crowd dispersed.

“I guess you haven’t shared your discovery with your friends yet,” Quinn mused as Rowena joined them. Frantic with worry, she wrung her hands incessantly, twisting a small silver ring on her left pinkie finger.

“You have him,” Balthazar’s eyes were wild. “I knew it. Where is he?”

“He’s safe… for now.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m simply stating the facts. Jonas says you showed him the way in, so I’m guessing you know where he is.”

“I want him back. You bring him back right now.”

“I’m not going to do that. You know you could have avoided this, if you had just listened to me and got as far away from here as you could. But you didn’t,” she sighed. “And now I have your son.”

“Give him back, please,” Rowena begged. “We’ll go. We’ll leave this place and never come back.”

“It’s too late for that.”

“He’s our son,” Rowena’s voice broke.

“His life is nothing in comparison to the treasures we protect.”

“And who do you think protected those treasures before your kind were even created?” Balthazar thundered.

“Balthazar,” Rowena cautioned.

“No!” Balthazar shook his head. “I’m sick of you Guardians and your holier-than-thou attitude. Who do you think guarded our magical brethren before the Guardians even existed? Not even Eldon himself knew of the oath we took, to stand silent vigil over our most precious species. And we watched as entire lines were destroyed, trying desperately to stop the slaughter! Eldon started a war he could not finish and then he handed the mantle over to you! It was our charge – our birthright – not yours!”

Quinn gaped at him. She had never known the real reason the gypsies searched for the City, but even by the wildest stretch of her imagination she would never have guessed this.

“We were chosen,” Braddon interjected firmly, unmoved by Balthazar’s confession, “whether you like it or not.” Quinn could sense the fierce pride radiating off him as he spoke, and for the first time in her life, she felt connected to her father. They were united in their steadfast belief and passion for their purpose.

“Give me back my son,” Balthazar croaked helplessly. All the fight had gone out of him. Quinn’s violet eyes flashed.

“No. You have my word he will not be harmed, but so help me, if you set one foot inside that Cathedral I’ll send him back to you in pieces.”

Chapter 31

“Rafe?” Channon called as she heard the front door slam.

“It’s me,” he called back, and a moment later he entered the kitchen.

“Where have you been?”

“I went out to get some stuff.” He deposited a laden basket on the table. Channon lifted the cloth and eyed its contents – a bottle of milk, a loaf of freshly baked bread and a few other staples.

“I could’ve done that,” she scolded.

“It’s fine. I’m going to take a shower.”

He had only just stepped inside the small cubicle when the bathroom door burst open.

“Okay, spit it out,” Channon snapped. Rafe made no attempt to cover himself.

“Spit what out?”

“Whatever it is that’s got you so wound up. You’ve been acting strange ever since…”

“Since you became the Alpha?” he sneered. “I’m just trying to play my part.”

“Your part? What are you talking about? I don’t expect you to run around fetching groceries and cleaning the floors.”

“You’re the Alpha,” he countered. “It’s my duty to do your bidding.”

“You’re not serious?” She threw up her hands in frustration. “Rafe, I only challenged them to make sure that you would be okay!”

“I didn’t ask you to do that!” He stepped out of the shower, dripping water all over the floor.

“You didn’t have to! If another wolf had taken up the role you would have been killed, or at the very least cast out!”

“Exactly!” he roared, “I should have been cast out! Instead, I’m the laughing stock of the pack… the wolf that needed his wife to protect him.”

“That’s not true. Rayna doesn’t feel that way. She’s just grateful that we’re both alive.”

“Rayna is my sister, of course she’s grateful. I wasn’t talking about her. And just because no-one would dare speak out in front of you doesn’t mean they give me the same respect.”

“Who then?” she demanded. “Who said it?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’re all thinking it.”

“So you’re saying I should have let you die?” His silence spoke volumes.

“No,” she shook her head. “That wasn’t an option. You are my husband and my mate. I don’t want to hear it.”

“As you wish,” he sneered. “You’re the boss.”

Channon pushed past him, too angry to even formulate a response and stormed out of the house, her head pounding. She had known that Rafe would find it difficult to accept her as the Alpha but she had never expected this level of animosity. He would barely speak to her and his foul mood was ruining everything. She had done it for him after all, so that they could live in peace without fear of attack, but her plan had backfired. Now Rafe resented her. Furiously, she stormed down the street, so lost in her own thoughts she didn’t even notice the couple approaching.

“Channon?” a timid voice called and Channon turned to see Monique standing only a few feet away. The young Guardian’s eyes were filled with concern, but it was the tall, dark-haired boy beside her who drew Channon’s attention. He looked completely out of place. This must be the gypsy boy the Guardians had mentioned.

“Hi,” Channon regarded them curiously. “I take it you’re the trespasser?” Jonas flushed.

“This is Channon,” Monique interjected, “the new werewolf Alpha. Channon, this is Jonas.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Channon extended her hand, suddenly finding her own problems trivial in comparison to his.

“You too,” Jonas replied politely.

“I hear you’re here on an extended stay?”

“That’s what they tell me,” he shrugged lightly, but Channon could see the concern beneath his flippancy.

“Well, I hope you enjoy it here. It’s not the worst place in the world to be,” she smiled, trying to ease his fears.

“Are you okay?” Monique probed, sensing Channon’s distress.

“I’m fine,” the werewolf assured her. “Just having a bad day. I better get going, I’ll see you around, Jonas.” They watched as she strode up the street, disappearing into Kellan’s house.

“She’s the Alpha?” Jonas rounded on Monique.

“I know, it’s weird, right? There’s never been a female Alpha before, in the history of the pack.”

“In the history of the City, you mean,” he remarked thoughtlessly. Catching sight of her expression, he quickly continued. “Well, I mean the Guardians only date back a thousand years or so. How do they know that there wasn’t another female Alpha before that?”
“King Eldon documented all the supernatural history in the Sacred Book,” she retorted hotly.

“Yeah, but he might have left that bit out. I mean, he couldn’t put every tiny detail in there, it would be like a billion pages. My father has a whole truckload of old journals… he might…” he stopped, realising that there was a strong possibility he would never see those journals, or his father, again.

Monique, who had been growing increasingly irritated throughout his speech, found that she couldn’t be cross with him, not when he looked so sad.

“They won’t keep you here forever.”

“Yes they will.” There was no doubt in his mind that Quinn and the others would not change their decision. “You know, the worst part of this whole situation is that my people and yours want the same thing. For the wards to be safe.”

Channon had forgotten the gypsy boy the second she entered the home of the nicest Faery couple she knew. She gratefully took a seat on Kellan and Freya’s comfortable sofa.

“I’m sorry Kellan’s not here at the moment,” Freya apologised timidly. She could sense Channon’s aggravation and her disappointment upon learning that Kellan wasn’t home.

“Do you think he’ll be long?” Channon needed to talk to someone and Kellan had always been willing to lend an ear and offer sound advice.

“I’m not sure. I think one of the unicorns injured its leg, and he and Velkan went to tend to it. You’re welcome to wait…” she paused as Channon deliberated and then, at her quick nod, Freya smiled. “Can I get you some tea?”

“That would be lovely.”

As the pot boiled, Freya heard the familiar cry from Sage’s bedroom that indicated the baby was awake. She still hadn’t gotten used to the child being in her own room, but Kellan had insisted. Freya was barely sleeping, lying awake listening to the sound of Sage’s breathing and Kellan had kindly, but firmly, told her it was time. The first few evenings Freya had been up all night, pacing between the two bedrooms, but slowly she was relaxing, and last night she had had her first good night’s sleep in weeks. Kellan was generally right, she thought fondly to herself. She hastily prepared two cups of tea and carried them through to the living room, which, to her surprise, was empty.

“Channon?” she called, setting the cups on the table. Entering Sage’s room, Freya was astonished to find the baby in Channon’s arms. Channon was cooing gently and Sage smiled up at her.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Channon murmured softly, “I heard her crying and I thought I’d get her up.”

“Not at all.” Freya was pleasantly surprised. Channon had always seemed tough as nails but, watching her now, Freya was struck by the tenderness she was capable of. “Bring her through, she can join us for tea.”

Channon resumed her seat, cradling Sage, who seemed content in her arms.

“You’re a natural,” Freya remarked wryly, “any plans for children of your own one day?”

Channon paused, holding Sage’s tiny finger in her hand.

“I… I used to think so. But now…”

“Now you’re the Alpha?” Freya could understand how the burden of that responsibility might have put paid to any plans Channon may have had of starting a family of her own.

“Yes.”

“Alphas have children,” Freya pointed out gently.

“Male Alphas have children,” Channon corrected. Not bound to maternal care, males could rule while still having children. Channon did not have that luxury. Freya fell silent, finding no words to offer comfort.

“Besides,” Channon continued bitterly, “I doubt that Rafe would want to start a family with me now.” Sensing that this might be the reason Channon was here, Freya steeled herself to probe further.

“Is Rafe having difficulty accepting what has happened?”

“That’s an understatement.”

“It’s never happened before, I’m sure he just needs some time to adjust.” Channon laughed hollowly, startling the baby, who gave a cry of dismay.

“Hush,” Channon lowered her voice, rocking Sage gently until she was comforted. Lowering her voice, she continued. “He’s being impossible to live with and nothing I say makes any difference. I didn’t want this,” she admitted, “it’s not what I would’ve chosen for myself. I did it only to protect him. But now that it’s happened I…” she trailed off, embarrassed.

“Now you do want it?” Freya probed.

“Yes,” Channon admitted. “It feels right. I feel like this is what I was born to do.”

“Does that make you feel guilty?”

“A little. I don’t want Rafe to know, but how can I truly be Alpha if I’m more concerned about hurting his feelings than leading our people?”

“Rafe will come around,” Freya soothed. “I’ve known him a long time and he’s a good man.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Channon looked on the verge of tears. “Right now I’m torn between being a wife to my husband and an Alpha to my pack. What if I can’t be both?”

“Of course you can be both,” Freya insisted. “No one thing defines us. Besides, it’s in your blood. I knew your grandfather,” she added, at Channon’s questioning look. “You know he was an Alpha too?”

“Yes,” Channon nodded. “He was ousted by Rafe’s father.”

“So you see, it’s come full circle. You would not have won your challenge if you were not meant to rule the pack, just as you would not have won it if you hadn’t loved him so much. Both Rafe and the pack brought you to where you are. Rafe will understand that, in time. And if he doesn’t,” she added gently, “he’s not worthy of your love.” They drank their tea while Channon cuddled Sage.

“I better get back,” she murmured after a time.

“You don’t want to wait for Kellan?” Freya asked.

“No,” Channon hugged her as she left, “you’ve been more than enough help. Thank you, for listening, and for your guidance.”

“I’m always here if you need to talk,” Freya replied, “or if you just want to come and cuddle.” She held up the baby and Channon dropped a kiss on her tiny forehead.

“I think I’ll take you up on that.”

Chapter 32

“Lenora,” Drake nudged her sleeping form. Lenora gave an annoyed groan and swatted at him in her sleep. Drake grabbed her shoulders and shook her firmly. Lenora woke with a start and he put his finger to his lips, warning her to be silent. She tossed off her covers and got out of the bed, wearing only a slip of negligee, and he held her slippers up, averting his gaze. Grabbing a blanket off the bed, he threw it over her bare shoulders and gestured for her to follow him.

The night air was cold as they raced away from the house, shadows moving too quickly for the human eye to track. When they finally came to a stop beside the railway track where Drake had fought alongside Quinn all those weeks ago, Lenora pulled the blanket closer around her.

“What’s going on?” She didn’t need to ask him why they were out here in the dead of night. It was obvious he didn’t want to be overheard.

“I need you to do something for me.” There was no time to waste. “I need you to get a message to Quinn.”

“Are you insane?”

“She won’t hurt you.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“Lenora, please. She’s in danger.”

“She can take care of herself. We’re in danger, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Charlotte has a werewolf inside the City!”

“Oh my God!” Lenora shook her head. “Well, she’s got nerve, I’ll give her that much.”

“This is serious!” Drake’s fear for Quinn’s safety threatened to overwhelm him, but he had to remain calm. “It gets worse. Charlotte has a Guardian working for her.”

“Son of a bitch!” Lenora actually stamped her foot in frustration. “How in the hell did she manage that… oh, don’t answer that,” she snapped as he opened his mouth to speak, “I’m pretty sure I know how, the slut!” She could not understand what allure Charlotte held that captivated people so. Drake wasn’t listening.

“If Charlotte has someone on the inside it’s only a matter of time before the City falls. We cannot let her do this.”

“Drake, listen to yourself! You can’t stop this. The Quest is not our concern; we should get out of here and let this play itself out.”

“I can’t,” he sighed, “but I also cannot leave here without arousing Charlotte’s suspicions. You have to do this. All I’m asking is that you deliver a message and then I want you to run. Hide, until this is over. Please.” Lenora knew he would not be swayed.

“What will you do?” she asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

“Whatever I can,” he replied grimly.

When they returned to the house, Drake paused in the hall. He had heard movement above and he thrust Lenora back in the direction of the door just as Charlotte appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Where are you going?” she narrowed her eyes at his coat.

“To the hospital,” he lied easily. “Someone has to alter that boy’s memory before he wakes up and starts talking about vampires in Brookfield.”

“Who cares if he does?”

“I do.” His words were final. Charlotte weaved down the stairs and Drake was relieved to see that Lenora had disappeared.

“Lenora isn’t in her bed,” Charlotte followed his gaze to the open front door.

“So?” Drake snapped.

“Where is she?”

“How the hell should I know? I’m not her keeper.”

Charlotte had reached him now and she snuck her tiny hands into his coat. The pale, cold skin felt lifeless against his chest.

“Why don’t you come upstairs?” she purred, weaving into the folds of fabric. Drake took a deliberate step backwards.

“Someone has to clean up your mess,” he pointed out.

Arriving at the hospital, Drake quickly learned which room was Todd’s from a pretty night nurse holding an electronic tablet.

“Drake!” Sarah gasped, as he entered the room. She had been dozing on the chair beside Todd’s bedside, her sweet face tired and crumpled. She hadn’t changed and the dried blood on her clothes gave off a sickly sweet stench. Drake hugged her awkwardly as she threw herself into his arms. Sarah barely knew Drake but she knew that he had befriended Quinn and she desperately needed human contact and reassurance.

“How is he?” Drake asked gently. It was extraordinary that he felt protective toward this pathetic human girl simply through her association to Quinn.

“The doctors say he’ll be fine,” she smiled weakly.

“Have you heard from Quinn?” he couldn’t resist asking.

“No,” her mouth tugged downward as she fought the tears. “I’ve left her a few messages but her phone is off.” Hardly surprising, Drake thought, if Quinn was still within the City’s enchantments.

“I’ll try and reach her,” he promised, squeezing Sarah’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go and get cleaned up? I’m sure they have some hospital gowns lying around that would look fabulous on you.” Sarah sniffed at his lame attempt at a joke.

“They did offer, but I don’t want to leave him, in case he wakes up.”

“I’ll wait. It’ll only take you a minute,” Drake offered, and then, when Sarah looked dubious, “I don’t think that that,” he pointed at the blood, “is going to help him. He might be traumatised and you look a sight.”

Sarah needed no further convincing. With one last longing look at Todd she flew from the room. Drake moved quickly. Stepping across to Todd’s side, he shook him gently. When Todd didn’t wake, Drake did the only thing he could do – he slapped him across the face. Todd woke with a leonine yell of fear, but Drake smothered his cries with the palm of his hand.

Todd gazed up into the green eyes, recognising Drake, and his confusion gave way to terror. He couldn’t breathe.

“Calm down,” Drake instructed, and he felt Todd’s body sag back into the pillows. “Look at me.” Once he had Todd’s full attention, he released him. “You were attacked by a dog tonight,” Drake spoke quickly but audibly. “A big black dog got into your yard and attacked you. You remember nothing else and you will not remember me being here.” Todd’s eyes glazed over as the persuasion took hold, all too easily in his weakened state, and then his eyes closed. By the time Sarah returned he was sleeping peacefully.

“Anything?” she whispered. She had a white hospital gown, which was several sizes too big, over her jeans and she shivered in the clinical cold of the room.

“Nothing,” Drake shook his head, “but he will be fine.”

“Thank you, for coming. I didn’t expect… well, you hardly know us.”

“Any friend of Quinn’s is a friend of mine,” he smiled. “I’ll try and let her know what’s happened but she might be out of the country. You just take care of yourself.” He couldn’t look at her any longer. Being around Sarah reminded him painfully of Quinn.

“I will,” she smiled shyly as he left.

Drake closed the door gently behind him. He stood still for a moment watching the weary-looking nurses at the nurse’s station. A portly, stern-looking nurse passed him, giving him a strange look and Drake stopped her in her tracks.

“There’s a young lady in this room who is cold,” he told her, keeping his voice low. “You will offer her your jersey,” he gestured at the floral cardigan she was wearing and then walked away briskly as, without another word, she opened the door to Todd’s room.

Chapter 33

“He said that?” Tristan asked. “You’re sure those were his exact words?” All eleven Guardians had gathered to discuss what had happened. Daniel and the others bore signs of a long journey, but he had insisted they go ahead with the meeting despite the lateness of the hour. It had been only a few days since her conversation with Balthazar, and so far they had had no further contact with the gypsies.

“Yes,” Quinn confirmed. “He said that they were the protectors of all our magical brethren before the Guardians existed. Is it true?” she turned to Isaiah, praying he would deny it.

“Even if it were, would it change anything?” Daniel said.

“It would change the way I feel about it.” Quinn had taken a hard line with Balthazar, for a good cause, but if he spoke the truth she would feel differently. If his intention was to protect the City’s wards, then the gypsies and the Guardians might not be enemies after all.

“I honestly don’t know,” Isaiah admitted. “King Eldon didn’t document anything to that effect, but that’s not to say it isn’t true.”

“You’re forgetting one important fact,” Braddon pointed out, sensing Quinn’s distress, and she turned to him expectantly, “Balthazar made it clear that they have little regard for the Guardianship. He basically accused us of usurping the gypsies’ position. Whether they seek to protect the wards or not doesn’t matter, the fact remains that they consider us their enemy.”

“What will we do with Jonas?” Piper asked.

“He will have to stay,” Daniel replied. “You made a good call, Quinn.” She didn’t need his validation, but it pleased her to hear it. Jonas was their bargaining chip – the most peaceful solution to ensure the gypsies did not try to enter the City.

“I’m more concerned about Monique,” Daniel continued. “Her actions went against everything we stand for.”

“Monique is young.” Quinn could understand what Monique had done better than most. “She made a mistake keeping the truth from us, but I believe she was trying to do what was best for everyone. It wasn’t her fault that the gypsies found the City, and, faced with an impossible situation, all she did was try to protect her friend.”

Isaiah wholeheartedly agreed.

“Monique cares too deeply for the wards for her to risk putting them in danger. Ultimately, she will make the right choices.”

“We will stay for a while,” Daniel said, speaking for the four Hunters. “The gypsy threat outweighs that of the vampires for now.”

Sensing there was nothing more to be said, Quinn got to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Braddon asked.

“I’m going to go and check what they’re up to.” To her chagrin he followed her to the door.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No,” she insisted. “I’ll be back soon.”

Reaching her car, she heaved a weary sigh.

“I said I didn’t need you, Braddon.” She turned around to face him. The sun was setting, low in the sky and casting long shadows across where they stood.

“You never have,” he answered cryptically. “I’m not coming with you, but there’s something I have to say.”

“Well?” she asked, after a pregnant pause.

“I know I treated you differently to your sister,” he began, and Quinn flushed with mortification. “It wasn’t because I favoured her over you,” Braddon continued, his voice growing in confidence. “I didn’t. Avery simply needed me more than you ever did.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I have never been disappointed in you, Quinn; quite the opposite, in fact. You are the most exceptional Guardian I have ever seen, yet you fight it. You question everything, and it’s exasperating!”

“Why? Should I just accept everything I’m told, without question? Is that what you want?”

“No,” he didn’t hesitate. “I don’t want you to accept it. I want you to embrace it. Because if you just stopped fighting for one moment, you would realise that you are the strongest, most valuable, of us all.”

Time seemed to stand still as his words hung between them. Quinn opened her mouth but no words came out, and, for the first time, she recognised what shone in the mirrors of his tanzanite eyes. Pride.

Unable to find words to respond, Quinn slipped behind the wheel and started her car. As she drove away she caught sight of her father in the rearview mirror, watching. He didn’t move, and eventually, as she crested the hill, she couldn’t see him anymore.

The second she passed through the portal her phone went berserk. She had a ton of voice messages and a stream of texts, but she opened the one from Drake first. It read simply:

The diner, Thursday 8 pm. Do not call me or reply to this message. You can trust her.

Quinn read the cryptic message with mixed emotions. She had received it just in time; the scheduled meeting was only an hour away and she felt both guilty and elated at the thought of seeing him again, but part of her wondered if this was a trick. It wouldn’t be the first time a text from Drake’s phone had led her into a trap. Heaving a sigh, she pressed harder on the gas. She knew she would go, regardless. She would just have to trust that he was being more careful with his phone after what had happened before. She was apprehensive to hear what he had learned from Genevieve. The message said Quinn could trust ‘her’. Did that mean that Genevieve had proven herself? That she had given up the information they needed? Impatiently Quinn checked the digital clock on her dash as the minutes ticked slowly by.

She took her time checking on Balthazar’s group, but there was no change. She spotted Rowena sitting slightly apart from the group with a look of infinite sadness on her wise face, and Balthazar standing near the fire, gazing into the flames as though they might hold answers.

Rowena was also watching Balthazar, but more importantly, she was watching the group on the other side of the clearing. Melchior had been stirring up trouble for days and Balthazar was too consumed by his own grief to notice. Rowena, however, had been paying close attention.

Melchior was not happy staying where they were. He was convinced that New Haven was a dead end and had urged Balthazar to get the group back on the road. Balthazar was claiming that Jonas’s disappearance was reason enough to stay, to search for his son, but Melchior was under the impression that Jonas had run away as so many gypsy kids had done before.

With Balthazar losing his fragile grip on the leadership of the group, Melchior was making his move. Rowena despised Melchior. Even before that horrific night he had visited her bed, he had made her skin crawl. She half-hoped that he would leave, even if it meant taking the others with him, just so that she would never have to see him again, but then she realised how selfish this wish was. The Blackman family had been leading their people for centuries; it was Balthazar’s destiny.

Rowena made her way over to where he sat oblivious of the coup taking place behind him.

“You have to tell them,” she murmured, and he turned to gaze at the small crowd surrounding his old friend. “They’re going to leave if you don’t. Balthazar!” she raised her voice when he didn’t respond.

“What do you think they will do if I tell them I’ve found the City’s location?” he finally snapped “They will storm in there,” he answered his own question, “and those people will murder my son.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“The only thing I can,” he sighed. “Let them go.”

Rowena heard the crunch of heavy footfalls behind them and steeled herself for the inevitable. “Balthazar,” Melchior barked from behind them. “We need to talk.”

“What is it?”

“It’s time for us to move on. We have stayed here too long already.”

“I am not leaving without my son.”

“Jonas is gone. You have to accept that he’s not coming back.” Balthazar got to his feet.

“Jonas is coming back. If it’s the last thing I do, I will get him back. But,” his voice dropped as he spoke the words Rowena dreaded, “if you wish to leave, then so be it.”

“What are you saying?” Melchior croaked, his elation tempered with disbelief.

“I’m saying that the City is not here,” Balthazar raised his voice so the others could hear. “I was wrong. I’ve kept you here too long already, but I will not leave without my son. I’m sorry. I guess this is where we part ways.”

A collective gasp of astonishment filtered through the bystanders surrounding them. Melchior looked as though Balthazar had struck him, but then a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.

“We took an oath to find the City,” he reminded everyone at large. “We cannot stop searching because your son has left us.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Balthazar sighed, knowing Melchior would not be content until he had spelled it out. “You should continue the search… without me. My priorities have changed. I am no longer the best person to lead us.”

“If that is what you want, we will leave at sunrise.”

A low murmur of assent ran through the crowd and Rowena felt tears of humiliation prick at her eyes.

“You should start packing up the truck,” Melchior ordered.

“I’m staying,” she drew herself up to her full height.

“You are a member of this community; you don’t have a choice.”

“I am a human being and I will make my own decisions, thank you. This community doesn’t own me.” Melchior narrowed his eyes at her scornful tone.

“True. But it does own your truck… hand over the keys.” Rowena threw them at him. To her irritation, he caught them easily.

“Oh, I will miss you,” he leered, making her skin crawl.

A flurry of activity followed as the entire camp set to work packing up their belongings and preparing for their departure. Rowena and Balthazar sat side by side at the fire, already forgotten.

“I don’t want you here,” Balthazar said half-heartedly. He had not wanted to give Melchior the satisfaction of publicly rejecting her, but he couldn’t ask her to stay. Rowena belonged with their people. He had no idea how he was going to get Jonas back, and he would not draw her into his prison, whatever it might be.

“I know you don’t,” she said, “but you’re stuck with me. He’s my son, too.”

“Rowena,” a timid voice interrupted and she found one of the younger girls trembling beside her.

“What is it, Cosima?” she asked kindly.

“I… I’d like to stay with you.”

Cosima was closer to Rowena than any of the other girls. Only a few years older than Jonas, her dirty blonde hair hung in her face, hiding the astonishingly pretty green eyes she had inherited from her mother. Introverted and shy, she was terrified of men and Rowena had been protecting her for years. Cosima’s mother had joined the gypsies after meeting her father at a fairground, but she had not stayed long, abandoning their community when Cosima was only four years old. Cosima had been raised by her father and Rowena suspected that old Ismay, who had died a few years back, had mistreated his daughter terribly.

Now, taking in the pitiful sight of the girl, Rowena found she couldn’t abandon her too. Without Rowena’s protection, Cosima would be an easy target for the likes of Melchior. Conscious of Balthazar’s silent warning, Rowena forced a smile.

“Of course,” she nodded, getting to her feet and hugging Cosima, who sagged with relief, “of course you can stay.”

The only person who didn’t want to leave, surprisingly, was Cara. Rowena was touched to overhear her arguing with Zebulon, but Zebulon was adamant. They would travel with the others. Balthazar’s decision to act in the best interests of his own family over the group proved that he was no longer fit to lead. Cara spat at the ground as he pushed past her, but Rowena knew her old friend would abide by her husband’s wishes. Meeting Cara’s gaze, Rowena nodded in farewell, and Cara did the same in return, tears shimmering in the olive depths of her eyes.

Chapter 34

Quinn, who hadn’t lingered once she had confirmation the gypsies were still in the area, missed the entire episode back at the gypsy camp. She made it to the diner twenty minutes early and accepted coffee from a passing waitress as she settled down to wait. She couldn’t help but feel relieved that she would be seeing Drake again.

Lenora approached the diner cautiously. Once inside, it took her only an instant to identify the Guardian who glared at her with ill-concealed venom. Every male eye in the room followed her progress as she swept toward Quinn. Under the table, Quinn slowly withdrew the stake from her boot.

“You won’t be needing that,” the vampire said pointedly as she came to stand over her. “Drake sent me.” Recalling the cryptic text, Quinn realised she had misinterpreted his message.

“Why?” she asked, keeping a firm grip on the stake.

“Because you’re in danger,” Lenora replied, as if it were obvious, “and because, for some reason, your safety seems to be of great concern to him. May I sit?” Quinn nodded. “You really don’t need it.” Stowing the stake, Quinn placed both her hands deliberately on the table. “My name is Lenora, by the way.”

“I’m Quinn.”

“I know.”

“What can I get you?” the waitress asked Lenora, passing by on her way back to the counter.

“Nothing, thank you.”

Quinn waited until the girl was out of earshot. “What do you mean, I’m in danger?”

“You have a traitor in your midst. Two, actually. The first is a wolf named Caleb.”

“Caleb? Wait a minute… did Drake find out who killed my sister?”
“Your sister’s death is of no concern,” Lenora dismissed the sensitive subject. “You have bigger things to worry about.”

“Caleb is dead.”

Lenora looked impressed, but Quinn’s satisfaction was short-lived.

“Well I guess that only leaves one problem then... the Guardian working with the vampires who are hell-bent on destroying you.”

Quinn didn’t hesitate. In a flash, she had her stake in her hand, but as fast as she was, Lenora was faster. Before Quinn could even get to her feet, Lenora was standing across the aisle, out of reach, her lip curled in a snarl.

“I told him this wouldn’t work. Put it away, or everyone in this room will be dead before you have the chance to use it.” Left with no choice, Quinn tossed the stake onto the seat Lenora had vacated. “Now, let’s have a civil conversation, shall we?” Lenora picked up the stake and slipped it into her over-sized handbag.

“You’re lying,” Quinn insisted. “No Guardian would work with a vampire.”

“And yet you seem to be remarkably close to one yourself,” Lenora remarked wryly.

“Why isn’t he here, telling me this himself?” For the first time, Lenora looked worried.

“Have you ever heard of a vampire named Charlotte?”

“No. Who is she?”

“My nemesis,” Lenora muttered under her breath before getting back to the point. “Charlotte was Drake’s great love,” Quinn stiffened involuntarily, but Lenora continued, seeming not to have noticed. “She was human when they met; seventeen; innocent, sweet. Nothing like us,” she added casually. “Anyway, he fell for her, hook, line and sinker. Being with Charlotte changed him. He wanted to be better, to be worthy of her love. On second thoughts, I think I’m going to have that coffee after all.” She stopped abruptly and signalled the waitress.

“So, what happened?” Quinn prompted. Masochistically, she wanted to hear more.

“One of your people was killed by our kind. We stole her crystal. The Slayer came to retrieve it.”

“The Slayer?” Quinn realised that all of this must have happened over five hundred years ago if a Slayer was involved.

“He didn’t mean to kill Charlotte, if that’s what you’re worried about. In fact, it wasn’t even him who did it. It was one of your Hunters. Anyway, he meant it to be Drake.” Quinn’s relief was replaced by an irrational surge of anger. “Charlotte got in the way,” Lenora continued. “She would have died to protect him. It’s ironic, really.”

“What’s ironic about it?” Lenora didn’t answer, instead continuing with the tale.

“Drake turned her that night in order to save her. Don’t judge him,” she warned, seeing the look of disgust on Quinn’s face. “He loved her more than you could ever imagine and he acted in the heat of the moment. He’s regretted it ever since.”

“So Charlotte lived and became a vampire. That doesn’t explain why their relationship ended. If they loved each other as much as you say they did, why aren’t they together?”

“Charlotte’s transition changed her into the very worst breed of monster. It took Drake a while to accept it, but she is evil incarnate. Cruel, sadistic… and now she has the might of the council behind her.”

“The council?”

“The most powerful vampires on earth, whose sole mission it is in life is to finish what Aleksei started.”

“And Charlotte has convinced these people she’s got a Guardian working for her?”

“She claims she wants to end the Quest – to find the City and destroy its inhabitants. That’s the story she’s fed the council, anyway.”

“But you don’t believe that?”

“I’m sure it forms part of her plan, but if I know Charlotte, she won’t stop there. But, back to the point... no matter how much you don’t want to believe it, Charlotte is working with a Guardian.”

“Who?”

“I have no idea. The only thing Drake is certain of, is that it’s not you.”

“But you’re not so sure?” Quinn could tell by her dubious expression that Lenora didn’t share Drake’s faith in her.

“I don’t know you,” she replied simply.

“Do you trust Drake?”

“With my life.”

“Then I guess you’re just going to have to deal with me.”  Lenora eyed her thoughtfully. “I can see why he likes you.” Quinn didn’t respond and Lenora narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I get it. You think he’s beneath you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know that he’s risking his life to help you. I know that he feels something for you, and it’s fairly obvious you feel something for him too, but you’re trying desperately to deny it. Take it from me, Quinn, you will never find anyone as good as him. Never. And if what he says is true, you may not have much time left. Put your God-damned Guardian pride in your pocket and open your eyes.”

“I can’t!” Quinn’s outburst attracted the attention of a few patrons at the other tables. Taking a deep breath she tried to steady her emotions. “Don’t you see that I can’t? You want me to admit it, fine. I do care about him; more than I want to… more than I should. But what you’re asking is impossible.”

Lenora loved to be proven right, but now she felt only a deep sorrow. She had thought that Drake’s feelings were not reciprocated and she had been prepared to hate this Guardian who was toying with his emotions, but instead, she saw the truth, that Quinn was just as torn and tormented as Drake himself.

“I have lived a very long life,” she began, more gently, “and if there is one thing I’ve learned for certain it’s that nothing is impossible. Do you love him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well you better figure it out before it’s too late. Charlotte wants him back, and if she gets her claws into him, the man you know might cease to exist.”

This jolted Quinn. “You said she’s a monster. Surely he would never…”

“The heart wants what the heart wants. Losing her almost killed him. I’ve never seen anybody suffer such heartbreak. And we cannot underestimate Charlotte – she’s exceptionally clever and she’s conniving. She’ll prey on his weaknesses.”

Quinn didn’t want to talk about Drake anymore. The thought of him with this evil woman made her stomach churn.

“Do you have any idea how Charlotte plans to take down the City?”

“She won’t; not yet anyway. She’s after the crystals.”

It was a brilliant plan. Without the crystals, the Guardians would have no fail-safe, and all the Fae magic would be destroyed along with Summerfeld. Still, Quinn hesitated. Believing Lenora’s story meant that she was choosing to trust a vampire over her own people. What if this was all a ploy to weaken them from the inside, planting a tiny seed of doubt that would fester and spread discord through the Guardianship like a cancer.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t,” Lenora shrugged, turning the tables on Quinn with her next words. “It comes down to whether or not you trust Drake.”

Chapter 35

After a sleepless night Quinn made the decision to confide in Isaiah about the possibility that a Guardian had betrayed them. She could not carry this burden alone and, as Isaiah had not left Cliffdale for centuries, he couldn’t possibly be the one who was working with Charlotte. As she walked towards the fountain, her fellow Guardians ran through her head. There were the Hunters; Daniel, Blair, Liam, and Garrett, but the Hunters were the most anti-vampire of all, and Quinn couldn’t believe any of them would work hand-in-hand with the creatures they spent their days destroying. But then, the same could be said for all Guardians. Piper was her friend, Braddon her father, she was closest to Tristan, and Monique was only a child. Lucas was the Guardian she knew the least, but even he wouldn’t do this.

Quinn didn’t want to believe any of them could be capable of such a vile act of betrayal, but she couldn’t let nepotism cloud her judgment. It didn’t matter who it was; either way Quinn was going to lose a friend, or worse, another family member. It struck her anew that it had been her father who had found Caleb and brought him through the Gateway. She didn’t want to think that after all these years she had finally begun to understand him, only to have him ripped away from her.

When she reached the Cathedral she expected to find Isaiah in his usual seat at the council table but instead, he was standing in the open doorway. The early morning sun filtered around him and Quinn took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the image before her. Then he turned to face her and she knew instantly that something was wrong.

“I’m glad you’re here, Quinn,” he beckoned her forward. At first she didn’t understand what he was showing her but then, as her eyes adjusted, she spotted three figures descending over the crest of the hill.

“Oh no, he didn’t.” she cursed.

“We have a serious problem,” Isaiah agreed, and they continued to watch as Balthazar, Rowena, and an unknown gypsy girl walked right up to the door of the Cliffdale Cathedral.

“You have some nerve, Balthazar,” Quinn thundered as they drew near enough. The blonde girl beside Rowena looked as though she might die of fright, but Balthazar met Quinn’s gaze levelly.

“I’ve come for my son.”

“You have just signed your son’s death sentence. I told you I would not let him out of the City. What makes you think I would change my mind?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My people have left and they will not return. I kept the location of the City a secret, so none but the three of us know how to find it.” He gestured at the two women beside him.

“I fail to see your point.”

“If you will not let Jonas return, I ask that you allow us in.”

“What?”

“Your charms will ensure that we cannot get out again. Once inside, we can never reveal this location to any of our kind. We do not have the luxury of your longevity. Your secret will die with us.”

Quinn gaped. What Balthazar was proposing was ludicrous, but before she could say so, Isaiah interrupted.

“I think you had better come inside.”

The atmosphere inside the Cathedral became more nerve-wracking with every passing second as they waited for Tristan to return. Isaiah had sent him to check whether Balthazar was telling the truth and that the convoy had indeed moved on.

“We can’t let them in,” Quinn said, not for the first time.

“We may not have a choice,” Isaiah pointed out. “If we send them away, there’s no telling what they will do.”

“You know we can hear you, right?” Balthazar muttered. All three of the gypsies had declined a seat at the council table, and were standing a few yards away, in the shadow of King Eldon’s statue.

“Forgive me if I’m not wild about setting you loose among the creatures I have dedicated my life to protecting.”

“We want the same thing, in that respect,” he reminded her.

“Why would you willingly become a prisoner?”

As desperate as he was to see Jonas, it just didn’t make any sense.

“A prisoner?” Balthazar smiled for the first time. “For a thousand years we have searched for this place, with only one purpose; to make it our home. I think the real question here is, why would we ever leave?” They were distracted then as Tristan burst through the doors.

“They’re gone,” he confirmed. “I searched the entire area and there’s no sign of them.”

Daniel and the others arrived shortly after and the gypsies were escorted to a back room while their fate was decided.

“I don’t like it,” Blair, as always, was the most direct.

“Me either,” Quinn agreed, surprised that they were on the same page.

“I don’t think we have much choice,” Daniel sounded angry, but resigned.

By the end of the vote the Guardians were split down the middle. Quinn, Blair, Liam, Garrett and Braddon were against the idea of allowing the gypsies to enter the City, while Isaiah, Daniel, Piper, Monique and Lucas claimed that this was the only way. It all came down to Tristan and all eyes turned to face him.

He met Quinn’s gaze, but she remained impassive, not wanting to influence his decision. This was how it was; they all had their say.

“Let them stay,” he announced eventually. Quinn noticed how he glanced at Monique as he said it, and she realised that he might not have been as impartial as the others believed.

“It’s decided,” Isaiah announced, and he went to fetch Balthazar and the women.

There was nothing else for it. Quinn wasn’t happy with the idea, but in truth they had little choice. Taking the gypsies into the City was the only way to ensure the safety of the wards, although it didn’t endear Balthazar to her, or the others who had been against it. As they stood at the altar she took Balthazar and Rowena by the hand. When Tristan reached for Cosima, she baulked, backing away from him so quickly she knocked into one of the ornate pillars. Confused, Quinn looked to Rowena, who smiled apologetically.

“Cosima should come with us, if that’s okay?” Nodding, Quinn extended her hand to Cosima as Tristan took hold of Balthazar instead.

Nothing could have prepared Quinn for Balthazar’s reaction when they hit the cobbled surface of the courtyard. Taking in the beauty around him, he dropped to his knees and tears pricked at his eyes. The wonder of Summerfeld overwhelmed him. It was clearly almost too much for him to bear. The women remained standing, but Rowena’s emotion was just as plain to see. She clutched the pendant hanging round her neck, and murmured words Quinn could not understand. Feeling awkward, she raised her brows at Tristan, who shrugged helplessly.

They waited while the three gypsies took a moment to appreciate the splendour of their accomplishment, until Balthazar got to his feet. Rounding on Quinn, he said, with absolute sincerity, “Thank you. You have no idea what this means to us.”

“Tristan will take you to Jonas,” she replied curtly.

“Where are you going?” Tristan asked, loathe to be left alone to deal with the happy reunion. Quinn gave him an apologetic look.

“I need to speak to Isaiah in private.”

“How do you know this?” was Isaiah’s first question when Quinn had finally finished telling him what she had learned. She had known he would ask and she had made the difficult decision to tell him the truth.

“A vampire told me,” she admitted. “I know what you’re going to say, but before you lecture me you need to know that this vampire saved my life. Twice. I trust him.”

For a long moment Isaiah said nothing and Quinn prepared for the worst. The council would go berserk when they found out, but nothing mattered more than keeping the wards safe. She would deal with her punishment later. When he spoke, it was not what Quinn had been expecting.

“I would like to meet him. Could that be arranged?”

“I’m not sure. He’s being watched; the vampire plotting against us is with him.” She knew only too well how this sounded; no doubt Isaiah would jump to the logical conclusion that Drake and Charlotte were in it together, but again, he surprised her.

“This is a very serious accusation. I would like to speak with him, to judge for myself whether I believe him or not.”

“You think there’s a chance he’s telling the truth?” she asked disbelievingly. Isaiah smiled. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“He’s a vampire; a sworn enemy of Summerfeld.”

“And yet you believe him?”

“I do, but I expected you to react differently.”

“You expected me to berate you?”

“At the very least.”

“You have just told me that Summerfeld is in danger and that a Guardian is working against us. I cannot ignore that, no matter how unbelievable it may seem. With any luck it will prove to be false, in which case I will certainly have something to say, but until then we need to establish the truth.”

“I have a number I can call. I’ll see if it can be arranged,” Quinn promised. “In the meantime, I want Jack and Ava out of harm’s way. If an attack on the City is imminent, they cannot be here.” She couldn’t do anything about the wards, but she could certainly protect the children.

“Agreed. I will see to it that they are sent somewhere safe. Camille will have to go with them.”

“We cannot tell anyone, Isaiah. If Charlotte does have a Guardian on her side, we don’t know who we can trust. Unless you have any idea who it might be?”

“I have my suspicions,” he murmured, “but I prefer to keep them to myself until I have more information. It would do more harm than good to cast doubt over an innocent party. But in the wake of this new threat, I am glad that everyone is here.”

“Fair enough. I’ll go and make that call.”

Quinn stood alone in the clearing that the gypsies had so recently vacated and dialed the number Lenora had given her.

“You know when I gave you my number, I was just being polite,” her feminine voice sighed, “I didn’t expect you to actually use it.”

“I’ve confided in another Guardian. The only one who can help that I know for sure isn’t involved. He wants to meet with Drake.”

“I can get a message to him, but I doubt he’ll risk it. The whole point of me coming to see you was because he couldn’t.”

“Try. Tell him it’s important. We’ll be at the gypsy camp ground two nights from now. He knows where it is.”

Quinn hung up and scanned the clearing absentmindedly. The only sign that anyone had been living here was the grey, lifeless remains of the bonfire. The gypsies were gone; Drake was out of her reach, and someone she trusted had betrayed them. Everything was changing, and something terrible was coming. Quinn could feel it in her blood.

Chapter 36

Drake loathed being confined to the house during the day. He enjoyed the sunlight and the freedom being immune to it gave him. Charlotte sat across from him reading a first edition, while Genevieve was pretending to watch television. Lenora and Genevieve had been difficult to live with, but he had enjoyed their snappy repertoire, and was confident that he could keep them both under control. Charlotte and Genevieve, however, were a different matter. The women’s hatred of one another festered in such close quarters, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they came to blows. The only thing they had in common was their mutual satisfaction with Drake’s apparent renewed interest in the Quest.

He was also finding it harder and harder to resist Charlotte’s advances. She had always had a hold over him; one that he had fought for years to break. Now, confined to her company, his guard was beginning to slip, and she used every opportunity to remind him of how things once were between them.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Charlotte announced, not looking up from her book. She had confided in Drake that they were heading for a town called New Haven, and Drake had reacted nonchalantly, while inside his fear flared painfully in his chest. Charlotte had not been lying – she knew the location of the City, and worse, she had an entire vampire army meeting her there.

“What is the plan, once we get there?”

“We single out the Guardians, one by one,” she smiled lasciviously, “kill them, and take their crystals.”

The new Guardians replacing the old would not be able to retrieve the stones. Their lack of training would be no match for the sheer number of vampires that would overrun the town.

“All this time,” Drake injected just the right measure of respect into his voice, “all we needed was the City’s location.”

“We needed a Guardian,” she replied haughtily.

“Who is this Guardian you have enthralled?” he asked casually, but Charlotte didn’t reply. Instead, she glanced across at Genevieve, who had her hand slung across Drake’s lap.

“I don’t like her touching you.” Genevieve glanced up, confusion etched on her brow. “Did you tell her?” Charlotte continued pleasantly.

“Tell me what?” Genevieve asked.

“What happened the other night?” Charlotte said. Drake narrowed his eyes as Genevieve stiffened beside him.

“Not now, Charlotte.” He suddenly wished Tane was here. Charlotte would never be so bold in front of the wolf.

“What happened the other night?” Genevieve’s eyes flickered between the two of them.

“Let’s just say that Drake and I managed to revisit on old times. And it was glorious.” Charlotte stretched, giving a small sigh of content.

“You didn’t…” Genevieve shook her head. Of course he hadn’t, but Charlotte had achieved her aim. She had planted a seed of doubt in Genevieve’s mind.

“Enough,” Drake thundered, getting to his feet. “Genevieve is my mate. She is the one I have chosen and you will respect her as such.”

Charlotte knew he spoke the truth. The past few days she had watched him carefully, and pulled out every stop to seduce him back to her side. She had partially succeeded – she could see it in the way he looked at her. He wanted to return, but Genevieve stood between them, preventing him from fully opening himself up to her.

In the instant that Genevieve’s lips turned up in a smug, arrogant smile, Charlotte leaped from the sofa, landing on top of her. Genevieve’s smile froze as the stake pierced her heart, morphing slowly into a hideous grin of rigor mortis as her body turned grey.

Drake gaped down at the horrific scene before him, his mind refusing to believe what had just happened. Genevieve was over five hundred years older than Charlotte. It was inconceivable that she could be bested by such a young vampire, but Charlotte had used the element of surprise, fighting dirty, as she always had. It was a vile act of the lowest order. Charlotte had no honour, no scruples. And Genevieve had underestimated Charlotte’s low cunning.

“There,” Charlotte purred, slipping the stake back inside her skirt, and dusting off her hands as though nothing remarkable had happened. “That’s much better.” Drake wanted nothing more than to seize her by the throat and rip her heart out, but he forced himself to remain utterly calm while Charlotte watched his reaction carefully.

“The council will not be pleased,” he spat out scathingly. “They will punish you.”

“Not if they don’t find out.” She moved closer to him. “I did what you couldn’t. I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know what you really want.” Her voice was hypnotic, and her eyes swam before him. Drake tried to resist, but his lust overshadowed his anger. Hating himself for it, he pulled her toward him, his mouth hard and unyielding against the softness of her lips. Charlotte groaned, and reached for his belt, but the sound of the front door opening jolted them both.

When Tane entered the room, he found Drake and Charlotte standing only inches from one another, their chests heaving. Most of Charlotte’s hair had come free of its knot, cascading messily over her shoulder. Furious, Tane balled his hands into fists. He was about to challenge Drake when the vampire did something unexpected. Raising his arm, he slapped Charlotte across her cheek, hard enough that she stumbled backward.

“You bitch!” Drake roared, and Tane was too shocked to defend his mistress. Charlotte lifted a hand to her face, but Tane was too focused on Drake to notice the satisfied gleam in her eye. “You keep her away from me,” Drake continued, rounding on Tane, “or so help me, I’ll tear her throat out.” Storming past the bemused wolf, he took the stairs two at a time.

“What was that about?”

“That.” Charlotte gestured at the grey ash staining the sofa. She was impressed with Drake’s quick thinking, but frustrated that Tane had interrupted them.

“Is that...?” Tane grinned evilly.

“It was.”

Upstairs Drake shoved his fist into his mouth, choking down his emotion. He felt eternally grateful that Tane had arrived when he did. Fear trickled down his spine at the hold Charlotte still had over him. He was so absorbed in his own self-loathing that it took a moment for him to realise his phone was vibrating in his back pocket. Recognising Lenora’s number, he lifted it to his ear.

“Where are you?” he demanded.

“I’m still here in the middle of nowhere. Do you know they don’t even have a mall?”

“I told you to deliver the message and get out of there.”

“She wants to see you.”

“I’m not interested. Tell her she needs to focus on defending the City.”

Lenora wasn’t fooled. “What’s happened?”

Drake took a shaky breath. “She killed Genevieve.”

“Oh my God. Why?”

“Why do you think?” Charlotte didn’t need a reason to do the revolting things she did. She was simply vicious without conscience.

“What did you do?”
“Nothing,” his voice broke, and he rubbed brutally at his face. “I did nothing.”

“Good,” Lenora exhaled in relief. “It’s imperative she trusts you. I’m sorry about Genevieve, but you can’t do anything to change it and I don’t want the same thing to happen to you. You know how evil she is.” He didn’t respond. “Drake?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” Lenora was silent for a long moment.

“She’s getting to you, isn’t she?” He didn’t deny it, and she wished she wasn’t so far away so she could beat some sense into him. “Drake, listen to me, you cannot let her get to you. You don’t want to get caught up in all of this.”

“I’m already caught up in it, Lenora! I’m right in the eye of this shit storm!”

“Can you get here? To New Haven?”

“As luck would have it we leave tomorrow. Charlotte’s bringing an army up there.” The words were flat, hopeless.

“The Guardians won’t stand a chance. What can we do?”

“Tell them to run.”

“They won’t leave the wards unprotected.”

“Then they will die!”

“Quinn has asked to meet you. She’s bringing another Guardian with her.”

“Of course she is.” He sounded exhausted.

“She needs help, Drake,” she admonished.

“What are we doing?” he laughed hollowly. “We’re trying to help people who would murder us all. Hundreds of vampires will be in New Haven. If we help the Guardians, we will be responsible for their deaths.”

“And if we don’t, we will be responsible for the death of every remaining supernatural creature left in this world,” she retorted. “And might I remind you that you dragged me into this mess in the first place. I told you to leave well alone. Now pull yourself out of that hole you’re digging and get here.” She hung up.

Chapter 37

The day of the proposed meeting with Drake dawned and Quinn went in search of Kellan.

“What do you mean you don’t want them moved?” he asked, when she informed him of the change in plan.

“I mean, they need to stay here, for now.” Quinn could understand his confusion. They had been planning the relocation of the Chumana hatchlings for weeks, searching for the ideal habitat, and now, on the eve of the day they were to settle them into the basin, Quinn had changed her mind.

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, Kellan, but you have to trust me.”

“Are they in danger?”

“We’re all in danger,” Quinn replied solemnly, and a look of understanding crossed his face.

“Sage…” his daughter’s name slipped out involuntarily and Quinn felt her throat go dry. So many lives were at stake.

“I will do everything in my power to protect her,” she vowed.

Isaiah had sent Camille and the twins away yesterday on the pretence of a holiday abroad. If there was a Judas in their midst it was unlikely that he or she would be concerned about the children, and the further away from Summerfeld they could get, the better. Camille had been nothing short of delighted, but she had hesitated when she learned Monique would be staying behind.

“It’s a particularly important phase of her training,” Isaiah soothed her fears. “She won’t be home much so I thought you could use a break.”

Monique had not questioned the lie, but Quinn had noticed the wary look in her eye as she waved her mother away.

“What is going on?” she demanded the second they were gone.

“There may be trouble coming,” Quinn answered honestly. “Nobody knows except me and Isaiah. We thought it best if we got your mom and the twins out of here, just as a precaution.”

“I’m assuming you want me to keep this to myself?”

“For now.”

“Does uncle Tristan know?”

“No.”

“What do you think he’s going to say when he finds out his children are gone?”

“Let me deal with that.”

“Actually,” Isaiah mused when Monique was gone. “I think you should leave it to me to tell Tristan. He’ll be less likely to argue.”

“Are you sure you want to come tonight?” She still couldn’t believe that Isaiah would be leaving the Cathedral.

“Yes. I’ve told only Daniel, although I didn’t tell him where we’re going. He will be here to watch over things while I’m gone.”

“Okay,” Quinn nodded. “I’ll meet you here at sundown.”

The afternoon passed slowly and Quinn went for a walk to clear her head. She found herself in the field and was surprised to see Rowena picking cornflowers. Her small basket was filled with the delicate blooms.

“I use them to make tea,” she explained as Quinn approached her. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

“They’re good for treating all sorts of things; fever, congestion, not to mention they add a gorgeous splash of colour.” She smiled shyly.

“Knock yourself out. It’s not as if we don’t have enough.” Quinn gestured at the abundant field and Rowena turned to gaze across the sea of blue.

“It’s more beautiful than I could ever have imagined,” she admitted reverently.

“How is Balthazar?” Quinn asked, noticing how Rowena’s face softened at the mention of his name.

“He’s good. Better now that he’s seen Jonas,” she paused, as if considering her words, “I should have known you wouldn’t harm him.”

“Who, Jonas?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “He caught me up on everything that happened to him while he was here. Riding unicorns, playing with dragons, dinner at Monique’s… it sounds like you gave him a real hard time.”

“He’s not a bad person,” Quinn conceded.

“Neither is his father.”

“What happened between the two of you?” She had asked before and Rowena had not offered any information save to say she had betrayed him, but Quinn couldn’t figure out how two people who so clearly cared for one another could be so distant.

“Our way of life wasn’t easy,” Rowena began hesitantly, setting her basket down on the ground. “There was never enough food, never enough gas, never enough… anything. I did what I had to do to provide for my family.” She spoke with absolute conviction and Quinn found she couldn’t judge her, even though she had a pretty good idea of what it was Rowena had done. Prostitution was not uncommon amongst the gypsies, but Quinn would never have expected it from this particular gypsy woman. Rowena was more refined than most of her people, and she had an air of haughty pride about her. Quinn could only imagine how difficult it had been for her to lower herself to doing that for money. “When Balthazar found out, he couldn’t live with it.”

“I can see his point.” Quinn certainly wouldn’t be able to accept it.

“You haven’t lived our life.”

“Fair enough, but what about now? I assume you won’t be offering those services here,” she smiled to show she was only teasing. “Maybe you could start again, with a clean slate?”

“I’d like that.” Rowena’s wistful tone made it clear that she didn’t believe it was possible. Picking up her laden basket, she turned to leave.

“Rowena,” Quinn called her back. “You should make amends. You never know when it might be too late.”

After Rowena left, Quinn sat alone for a long time as the sun sank lower in the sky. In her mind’s eye she recalled the day, not so long ago, when Isaiah had found her in this very spot and told her that Avery had been killed by wolves. The fact that Caleb had been working with Charlotte was evidence enough that he had most likely been involved in her sister’s death, and with that, she had to be content. She couldn’t chase a ghost. Avery was gone, and she had ensured that Jack and Ava would be safe. It was time to heed her father’s words and embrace her destiny. She would not let Summerfeld fall no matter what price she might have to pay.

Chapter 38

When Quinn arrived at the Cathedral, Isaiah was wearing his traditional Guardian garb, complete with greaves and arm-bracers, invoking memories of the night she had killed Caleb. That night had brought her and Isaiah together and bonded them somehow. She trusted him implicitly and she sensed he felt the same. Of all the Guardians, save for Daniel, they were the two who most fiercely championed their cause.

Daniel was already there when she arrived, sitting at the council table, his face a mask.

“I should be with you,” he spoke to Isaiah directly, and something passed between them that Quinn couldn’t understand.

“I’ll be fine,” Isaiah replied. He had not told Daniel the real reason he was leaving the safety of the Cathedral for the first time in over five hundred years, and Daniel had not questioned him.

They drove in silence until they reached the portal. The instant they crossed through it, Isaiah let out a cry of pain and Quinn slammed on the brakes.

“Isaiah?” she asked frantically as he writhed beside her.

“I will be fine,” he hissed through gritted teeth, echoing the same words he had spoken to Daniel. “Just keep going.” Obediently she continued, casting anxious glances at him every few seconds and wishing she knew what was going on. Isaiah breathed slowly in and out through his mouth as if trying to calm himself and, by the time they had reached the edge of the woods, he seemed to be in control once more.

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologised when they rolled to a stop. “It’s been a long time since I was out here.” It was not really an explanation, but Quinn didn’t press him.

She led the way through the woods, her senses on high alert for any sign of danger. They were almost at the clearing when Isaiah doubled over again, clutching his head. Quinn crouched beside him trying to locate the source of his discomfort, but within minutes he had recovered and stood slowly upright.

“I think I’ll be okay now,” he murmured, a sheen of sweat glistening on his pale skin.

“What’s wrong with…” she stopped suddenly, sensing a vampire nearby.

“Quinn?” a deep voice intoned, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m here,” she called back, moving toward the sound of Drake’s voice. “Come on,” she gestured Isaiah forward, “he’s right over here.”

She broke free of the trees and into the clearing, spotting Drake immediately. Her knees went weak at the sight of him, but he wasn’t alone.

“Lenora.” For just a fraction of a second Quinn thought she had spoken the name out loud, but then she saw Lenora’s eyes widen and she turned to see a look of complete astonishment on Isaiah’s face. It was Isaiah who had spoken Lenora’s name, in an exclamation of shock and recognition.

“How is this possible?” Isaiah sounded shaken to the core. Lenora didn’t look half as composed as usual either, in fact, she looked terrified.

“You two know one another?” Drake finally spoke, and the deep timbre of his voice was like music to Quinn’s ears. As he stepped forward, Isaiah’s body convulsed once more and Lenora took a step back.

“Get away from him,” she warned, grabbing Drake’s sleeve and retreating slowly. Drake stumbled backward, but Lenora only had eyes for Isaiah. “You shouldn’t have brought him here Quinn,” she continued.

Isaiah pulled himself together with a massive effort. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Like hell you won’t,” Lenora hissed. Quinn looked to Drake for answers, but he was just as confused as she was. Until Lenora spoke again.

“He’s the Slayer.”

Quinn felt relief flow through her. Lenora had made a mistake; that was all. She turned to Isaiah, waiting for him to deny it, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. He didn’t contradict the accusation and Quinn realised it must be true. Suddenly it all made sense; the reason that he never left the Cathedral and why he had such a strong physical reaction to Drake and Lenora’s presence. He had sensed them the moment he had left the safety of Cliffdale’s enchantments.

“No,” Quinn whispered. “You can’t be.” When he didn’t answer, she covered the space between them in a few short strides, grabbing his left arm and pushing back his heavy silver wristband. Her eyes fell on the ornate tattoo adorning his wrist. Even in the palest light of the waning moon there was no mistaking it. It shone red as blood.

Finally the truth was revealed, the reason Isaiah always wore the heavy silver wristband. Why, despite the overwhelming threat of the growing vampire population, no slayer had emerged. Because one had existed all this time. One who had found sanctuary in the quiet stillness of the Cathedral; one who denied his very nature. Isaiah had been the Slayer all along.

“We have to go,” Lenora repeated. Her panic was the catalyst Isaiah needed to snap out of his stupor.

“No,” he said, his voice stronger. “I will not harm you.”

“You have no control over it,” Lenora countered.

“It’s been five hundred years. I have learned to control it.”

“How?” Quinn was skeptical and she too was concerned for the safety of the others. “You’ve been inside the charms all that time.”

“I have lived with my guilt all that time,” he insisted, “And regret can be the most powerful of teachers.” His statement made no sense to Quinn, but it halted Lenora in her tracks. “How is this possible?” Isaiah continued, his amber eyes never leaving hers. He gazed at her as if he were drinking her in, as if he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “How are you alive, Lenora?”

“How… how do you know one another?” Quinn asked, when Lenora made no attempt to answer the cryptic question. The chemistry crackling between them gave her an inkling, but she couldn’t believe it possible.

“I’m sorry,” Isaiah spoke directly to Lenora, ignoring Quinn’s question.

“Sorry!” Lenora scoffed. “You’re sorry? You tried to kill me!”

“I did kill you!” Isaiah heaved with emotion. Lenora opened her mouth to retort but Drake had had about as much as he could take.

“Enough!” he roared, stepping away from Lenora. As he got closer to Isaiah, Quinn automatically moved between them. Noticing her protective posture, Isaiah’s shoulder sagged.

“I give you my word, Quinn.” She searched his face, but saw only truth and sincerity reflected in his gaze.

“I think you had better start at the beginning.”

Isaiah took a seat on the soft grass, his body rigid with the tension of keeping his Slayer instinct in check. Quinn could only imagine the exceptional self-control he was exerting. The Slayer was not bound by conscience and could not rationalise. He was created for only one purpose – to seek and destroy.

“It all happened so long ago,” Isaiah began, “when Emily was murdered.”

“Daniel’s Emily?” Quinn asked, kneeling beside him.

“Yes. We were very close, the three of us, having been through so much together, but none of us was ever closer than Daniel and Emily. They loved each other to the depths of their souls. When Emily was killed, Daniel’s grief was almost too much to bear. It threatened to consume him and I felt his pain as though it were my own. When we discovered that the vampires had taken her crystal, I felt a rage I had never known… and then came the pain.” He mindlessly rubbed at his wrist, recalling the searing agony as his white tattoo had blazed red. Isaiah had been an ordinary Guardian before becoming the Slayer, his primary instinct to protect, not to destroy. Becoming the Slayer had turned him into the worst kind of Hunter. “I think I made the choice to take it from him,” he intoned hollowly, his smooth forehead creased. “I remember praying that he wouldn’t turn, knowing the rage and the pain would never die if it was bound inside of him by the curse.”

“It turned him into a monster,” Lenora whispered, and Quinn remembered that she must have played a role in what had happened.

“I don’t deny that,” Isaiah agreed. “Nobody ever knew that I had fallen in love with a vampire,” he explained, guilt coupled with sorrow. “I tried to fight it, at first, but in the end I couldn’t, I had to be with her.” Quinn knew instinctively that he was speaking about Lenora. “I knew it was wrong but I couldn’t stay away from her. And so we met, in private, and I started to believe I might be able to spend eternity with her. I even convinced myself that one day the other Guardians might accept her.”

“That’s why you turned away from the Quest,” Drake breathed, finally understanding why Lenora had given up the search, and why she hated it so much. Lenora didn’t reply, her eyes fixed on Isaiah.

“What happened?” Quinn prompted, realising they were both so lost in their memories they had forgotten she and Drake were present.

“I underestimated the Slayer curse. That night, I did terrible things… I destroyed more vampires than I can remember…” His words invoked Drake’s own memories of that night, and his blood curdled as he remembered the terrifying wrath that had rained down upon the village. “I was so angry,” Isaiah continued softly, “and my rage fanned the flames of the Slayer’s curse. I was afraid of what I had become, of what I had done, and so I went in search of the one thing I thought would bring me back, would make me the man I was before.” Quinn blinked, sensing where the story was heading.

“He found me,” Lenora’s voice interjected, “and he drove a stake through my chest. You missed my heart, by the way,” she sneered hatefully. “I guess the Slayer isn’t as effective as you all choose to believe.” Her voice was icy and hateful, and Quinn felt a desolate sadness come over her. She didn’t need to hear anymore, the haunted look on Isaiah’s face was all the proof she needed.

“He couldn’t help it,” she declared, and then, turning back to Isaiah, “So you locked yourself away, all these years as a penance?”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?” Lenora’s voice cut across the absolute silence that followed and Quinn got to her feet.

“No, I don’t expect you to, but I do.” Her eyes found Drake’s. “You have no idea how powerful the Guardian charm is.” Drake recognised the message she was trying to convey and he shook his head in disgust. Turning back to Lenora, Quinn continued, “The charm is impossible to fight. And yet he did… for you.”

“He tried to kill me,” Lenora countered and Quinn gave a harsh bark of laughter.

“He’s the Slayer, Lenora. If he had really wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here. Somehow he did fight it. He didn’t miss.”

This was the absolute truth, and Quinn suspected that Isaiah was still very much in love with Lenora. No matter how many years he had regretted his actions, his instinct could not be suppressed. He should have killed them both the second he laid eyes on them, and yet, he hadn’t. She also didn’t judge Isaiah for his relationship with Lenora. How could she, considering how she felt for Drake. As the thought crossed her mind she glanced over at him and recoiled at the venomous look in his eye.

“Drake?’ she began, but he paid her no heed. Turning on his heel, he stormed out of the clearing and plunged into the trees.

“Drake!”

He could hear Quinn moving through the woods behind him, but he didn’t stop. Isaiah’s story had brought back memories he had long tried to suppress with crystal clarity. How could he not have recognised him immediately as the Slayer who had torn through the village that night? And with Isaiah’s words all of Drake’s guilt came flooding back. It was not Charlotte’s fault she had become the monster she was now; that blame lay with him, for turning her, and with the Guardians who had taken her life. A black rage spread through his chest, blinding him, and he moved more quickly, running from something he could never escape.

Quinn sprinted after him, leaping over tree trunks and scratching her arms painfully on low-hanging branches. Twice she stumbled, but she kept going. Drake finally stopped, between two enormous gnarled trees, and Quinn approached him cautiously.

“What are you doing?’ she gasped, trying to catch her breath.

“I’ve seen him before,” he replied, an underlying tremor in his voice. “The night Charlotte was killed, Isaiah was there.”

“Okay,” she didn’t really understand the relevance.

“I think you’re right in saying that if he wanted Lenora dead, she would be dead. I’ve seen him in action and he wouldn’t make a mistake.” He was speaking almost to himself, and Quinn sensed that he was trying to make sense of something, but she couldn’t quite grasp what it was.

“What are you saying?” she asked helplessly.

“You said before that a relationship between a vampire and a Guardian is impossible. Isn’t he proof that that’s not true?” There was a note of desperation in his voice and Quinn realised what he was trying to say. Drake was trying to justify their feelings for each other.

“No,” it was barely more than a whisper. “It’s exactly the opposite. Isaiah hurt Lenora, despite loving her. Their story is proof that I’m right – that we can never be anything more than what we are right now.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true.”

“Quinn,” he moved suddenly, seizing her by the shoulders. “I need you to tell me how you feel. How you really feel,” he pleaded.

“Why?” Tears welled in her eyes.

“Because I hate him, for what happened to Charlotte. He didn’t kill her, but if he hadn’t been there she wouldn’t have been hurt, defending me, and because I don’t know if I can bring myself to hurt her… again.” His intensity frightened Quinn, but she couldn’t move as he continued frantically. “Because I am a vampire, and you are a Guardian, and because, God help me, I need you to give me a reason to protect you.”

Quinn closed her eyes, her tears finally escaping to trickle slowly down her cheeks.

“I can’t.”

She heard the sharp intake of breath and he released her so suddenly that she stumbled, her tears blurring her vision.

“We’re done.” His cold, clinical detachment burnt her and his words were absolutely final.

“Please don’t do this,” she begged, wishing things could go back to the way they were, but knowing that was impossible.

“I can’t help you.”

“I need you.”

“You need to prepare your people. An army is heading this way. Prepare to defend the City.”

“Drake. Please,” she began, but her words fell insignificantly to the ground, unheard. Drake was gone.

Quinn found Isaiah alone in the clearing.

“He came for her,” he explained, and then, “I guess we’re on our own?” Quinn nodded, not trusting herself to speak. “You did the best you could.”

“Did I?” She swallowed down the painful lump in her throat. Brushing away fresh tears, she tried to pull herself together. “I’m sorry about Lenora.”

“Why? She’s alive… and for that I will be forever grateful.”

“Isaiah, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was ashamed. Perhaps I believed if I kept it hidden long enough the curse would fade away.”

“But it didn’t?”

“No. It never will. But it can be controlled.”

“How?” He laughed then, a bitter, mournful sound that echoed through the trees around him. “Love,” he replied, “as clichéd as it may sound, love is the key.”

“We should get you back.” Quinn couldn’t resist searching the trees, desperately hoping Drake would reappear and give her a chance to explain herself.

“They’re gone,” Isaiah murmured apologetically. “I can’t sense them anymore.”

As they walked back to the car, he spoke again.

“Quinn,” his soft voice sounded amplified in the silent night. “I know it’s none of my business, but I cannot help feeling that your relationship with Drake is more complicated than you are prepared to let on.”

“We’re just friends. We were, anyway.”

“Were?”

She sighed deeply. “He wanted… more. I told him tonight that that isn’t a possibility.”

“May I ask why?”

Quinn gaped at him. “You of all people should know. A Guardian-vampire relationship is… is…”

“Unconventional?” he teased.

“It’s not funny,” she reproached.

“It’s not,” he agreed. “You know, the Sacred Book tells us that we are protectors of the City… that we defend the wards against those who would harm them.”

“The vampires,” she nodded, “I know. Which is exactly why I told Drake no.”

“You’re wrong,” Isaiah murmured. “Over time we have reduced the Book to its simplest form to make it easier to interpret, but it specifically says ‘those who would harm them’. Granted, it is the vampires who generally seek to destroy the wards, and the City was created with them in mind, but I do not believe that every vampire is a threat. Not every vampire would harm them.”

“What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying that nowhere in Eldon’s scripture does he mention not loving a vampire.”

She could understand his reasoning and the motivation behind it. No doubt he had told himself the same thing when he first met Lenora, but Quinn couldn’t agree with him.

“Enah loving Julian is exactly what started this war in the first place. I’m pretty sure Eldon wouldn’t have wanted his chosen champions to follow in her footsteps.”

“Everything is open to interpretation. You can take it to mean what you wish; I am simply pointing out that if the reason you rejected Drake tonight was because you believed it to be against the rules, you should know that there is no precise rule dictating that you should stay away from him.”

Quinn closed her eyes.

“Is that how you justified loving Lenora? Because if you honestly didn’t think there was anything wrong with it, why would you keep it a secret?”

“Because, like you, I was scared of what the others would think. I feared I was betraying my own people; but in the end I had to follow my heart.”

“And look what happened!” Quinn cried. “You use Lenora as an example of why I should be with Drake, when I see it only as further proof why I can’t be.”

“It is your decision,” Isaiah said. “But I would be remiss in my duties as your mentor, and your friend, if I didn’t support whatever choice you make.”

As much as she appreciated his words, Quinn didn’t want to discuss it any more and they drove back to Cliffdale in silence.

Chapter 39

Sloane eased himself off Charlotte’s warm body, his mouth an ugly grimace.

“Always a pleasure, my love,” he drawled, pulling up his pants. Charlotte gazed up at him, hiding her true feelings beneath a heavy-lidded look.

“We have assembled enough men to conquer the City,” Sloane continued, as Charlotte retrieved her clothes from the floor beside the bed. Sloane, as a senior councilman, had taken up residence in one of the grandest homes in town and the satin sheets were of the finest quality.

“Where are the rest of the council?”

“They await our summons.” Sloane and Charlotte had been granted the honour of leading the attack on Summerfeld, but Charlotte knew better than to believe that. The balance of the council didn’t want to get their hands dirty, or worse, face the Guardians in a fight.

“They are cowards,” she spat, straightening her hair in the full-length mirror. She could see the rumpled bedsheets in the reflection behind her and was thankful that the house Sloane had chosen was far enough from her own that neither Drake nor Tane would find her here. Sloane came to stand beside her, his stubby fingers caressing the hollow of her neck.

“That, my love, is treason.”

“I’m quite sure that contriving to overthrow an absent King is treason,” she reminded him, and his hand tightened around her throat.

“Be careful, Charlotte,” his black eyes glittered menacingly in the mirror, holding her own. “There are vampires crawling all over this town. You never know who might be listening.”

“Well, if they are listening, I trust they will be suitably impressed with your performance,” she praised.

Slipping from the house she darted back towards her own accommodation letting the shadows mask her from sight. Sloane was a necessary evil, one who would come in handy later, but for now she needed to focus on the war that was coming. Unlike the council, Charlotte didn’t shy away from battle. Just as with sex, her appetite couldn’t be sated. She craved the bloodlust that consumed her in the heat of the fight. The Guardians wouldn’t know what hit them.

“Where have you been?’ Charlotte demanded when Drake came through the door. She was draped across a one-seater sofa, with the owner of the house they had taken possession of sitting across from her, apparently asleep. Drake noticed the dried blood on his collar. Charlotte was seething – understandably, since Drake had escaped from right under her nose. He had been here when she had left to visit Sloane, on the pretext of discussing the invasion, but upon her return, Drake had been gone.

“I went to get you a gift,” he murmured, crossing the room to stand before her. “Which hand?” he added, his hands balled into fists behind his back.

“Both,” she demanded petulantly.

“You read my mind,” he grinned, baring his fangs as he dropped the two crystals into her outstretched hands.

Charlotte’s eyes opened in wonder as she gazed upon the two stones. The larger crystal was amber in colour and filled her entire palm. The smaller aquamarine was much prettier and circular in shape, but, despite it being exquisite, Drake preferred the amber, for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“Where did you…?” Charlotte gasped, feeling the power pulsating through the Guardian crystals.

“It doesn’t matter,” Drake cut her off, “they’re yours now.”

It hadn’t taken him long to find the hidden room in Quinn’s house in Brookfield. He had kept the crystals hidden since their arrival in New Haven and had left them behind when he went to see Quinn, knowing she would sense them if he took them near her. Now that Quinn had made her decision, Drake had had to make one of his own. He couldn’t play both sides, and fighting Charlotte’s hold over him was pointless. He had loved her once, but his obsession with her was fast re-igniting, and what was the point in denying it if Quinn didn’t want him. Drake was a proud man, and he would not spend his life trailing in the shadow of a woman who refused to acknowledge her own feelings, when there was one who was more than willing to show him how she felt sitting right in front of him.

Charlotte finally tore her gaze from the treasures she held to look up at Drake. An intense look passed between them and Charlotte’s full mouth curved up in a predatory smile. Neither heard the front door open.

“I assume this means that we only have to find ten more?” Tane drawled, coming to peer over Drake’s shoulder.

“Nine, actually,” Charlotte’s hands closed over the stones, blocking them from view, “we have a Guardian on our side, remember.” She couldn’t believe that Drake had somehow managed to secure not one, but two of the Guardians’ crystals. This proved his loyalty to her, as well as making her realise that he was not as weak as she had believed. He was worthy of her affection. They had been skirting around one another for days, mindful of Tane’s jealousy, but Charlotte would not deny him any longer. She had the might of the council behind her and Drake had just proven that he was far more valuable than the werewolf could ever be.

“Drake,” her voice was low and husky as she unfurled herself from the sofa and kissed his open mouth. “I owe you my gratitude. Let me show you just how grateful I am.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Tane snarled. He and Charlotte were hardly monogamous, but he despised the vampire, and for her to come on to him in front of Tane was the ultimate insult.

“Oh,” Charlotte turned to him. “I almost forgot you were still here. Sadly, I no longer require your services… I have no further use for you.” She nodded meaningfully at Drake.

Tane did not even have time to defend himself. Drake struck with the speed of a cobra, sinking his fangs into Tane’s exposed throat and tearing through the flesh as though it were paper. When it was over he dropped the lifeless body to the ground. The werewolf’s blood intoxicated him, the rush of its power coursing through his veins, heightening his senses, and making him lust for more. Drake growled, a deep, guttural sounded that reverberated in his chest.

“I underestimated you,” Charlotte purred, unmoved by the grotesque scene before her. Caleb would be dealt with in a similar fashion when they finally destroyed the City. Charlotte had never intended to keep the werewolves safe, they were simply a means to an end, and now that all the pieces had fallen into place there was no reason to keep them alive. Instead, she focused on Drake; dark, brooding and dangerous.

Leaning forward, she trailed her tongue along the curve of his collarbone, breathing in the smell of him, her senses igniting. When she reached the hollow of his neck, she slowly extended her fangs and plunged them into his flesh, sucking greedily. Drake knocked her aside, clapping a hand to the puncture wounds, his eyes reflecting his shock.

“What the hell are you doing?” he snarled. Vampires didn’t feed off one another – it was a vile act of depravity. Charlotte smiled, unrepentant. She did not care for etiquette, and she was bound by no laws. She did as she pleased, without conscience.

“Let me show you how good you taste.” She arched up toward him and kissed him deeply, her tongue exploring his mouth and sharing the lingering sweetness of his own blood. Drake slowly relaxed under her expert touch and he didn’t protest when she took his hand and led him up the stairs to the main bedroom, leaving the owner of the house unconscious where he sat.

Chapter 40

“How was he?” Daniel asked Quinn the second they came through the great doors.

“I was fine,” Isaiah replied wryly, smiling at his oldest friend. “Although Quinn did discover my secret.”

“It’s no secret,” Daniel remarked, “simply something you choose not to divulge.”

Quinn was amazed that Daniel supported Isaiah’s decision to remain within the enchantments and deny his Slayer instincts. Daniel was a Hunter, after all, and the Slayer would be a great asset to his team. Quinn mused that she had underestimated Daniel’s compassion, just as she had underestimated Isaiah’s capacity for violence. It seemed there was more balance within the Guardianship than she had ever known.

“You want to tell me what this evening was all about?” Daniel asked.

“We have bad news,” Isaiah replied, taking a seat at the table. He looked exhausted – the evening had taken a toll on him, physically. Daniel sat beside him and Quinn moved around to sit opposite them.

“How many?” were Daniel’s first words when Isaiah told him an attack was imminent.

“An army is coming.”

“And how do you know this?” Quinn opened her mouth to speak, but Isaiah beat her to it.

“Lenora told me.”

“Lenora?” Daniel’s eyes bugged and Quinn gave a start of surprise. Isaiah had said that he never told anyone of his love for Lenora.

“You know her?” Quinn asked.

“Yes,” Daniel explained “She was a Guardian sympathiser over five hundred years ago. She fed us information regarding the Quest until one day she simply disappeared. We assumed she had been caught and executed.” He turned back to Isaiah questioningly and Quinn realised that while he knew of her, Daniel had no idea of the true nature of Lenora and Isaiah’s relationship.

“She’s not dead.” Isaiah’s own astonishment at the fact was apparent, and Daniel accepted it.

“If Lenora is the source, we have to assume that the threat is legitimate,” he stated.

“Hold on a minute,” Quinn interrupted furiously. “Why have we never been told of all this Guardian-vampire alliance? We have been taught that they are the enemy, that they are monsters who can’t be trusted! Now you’re telling me that you trust this vampire’s word without hesitation?” Isaiah understood her question far better than Daniel.

“There are good vampires among them,” he replied gently, “but they are few and far between, and even the good ones are still cruel at heart. Their allegiance could shift at any time. It was simply safer to assume the worst of them.”

Which is exactly what she had done, Quinn thought despairingly. She had assumed the worst of Drake and it had pushed him away. Isaiah saw the regret in her eyes and came to a decision.

“There is another sympathiser with Lenora,” he addressed Daniel. “He has befriended Quinn and I think he could be of great use to us.”

“No,” Quinn shook her head. “He won’t help us now. I pushed him too far.” There was no point blaming them for her own actions. “We’re on our own.”

She no longer needed Isaiah to speak for her, so she continued, her voice growing stronger.

“It works both ways,” she announced suddenly. “Vampires help us, but now a Guardian is helping them. There is a traitor amongst us,” she told Daniel. “A Guardian is working with them.”

“That’s impossible!” Daniel’s outraged cry echoed through the hall.

“It’s true,” Isaiah confirmed, “or at least, we have to assume that it is. There is no other way they could have found the City. Ever since Avery’s death I have suspected something terrible was coming, and now it seems I was right.”

“Who is it?” Daniel asked. “Who has betrayed us?”

“We have no idea, save for the fact that the traitor is not at this table.”

Quinn couldn’t bear the helpless feeling that had come over her, and desperate for action, she got to her feet, pacing the great hall.

“We have to find the Hawkstone,” she announced, the sudden change of subject startling them from their musings. “If they do attack and we fail, it will be the only chance we have to restore order.”

“That’s true,” Isaiah agreed, “but as I’ve told you before, I have no idea where it is.”

“There must be something in the Book… some clue we’ve missed. King Eldon would have wanted us to find it.”

“I have read every passage of the book a hundred times. It says only that the child will retrieve the Hawkstone, but mentions nothing of its actual location. I believe that the stone will reveal itself if the City falls.”

“How?”

“I have no idea. Possibly a charm, or some sort of magic, similar to our tattoos.”

Quinn mulled this over. Guardians were only branded at the time of their predecessor’s death. What if Eldon had used a similar magic when he had hidden the Hawkstone? If that was true they had no hope of finding it – not until it allowed them to do so.

“So basically you’re saying we’ll only find it when all hell breaks loose?”

“I’m not saying anything. This is merely my personal opinion.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Daniel said. “Which means searching for it would be futile and a waste of what precious time we may have left. I suggest we turn our attention to what we do best… protecting the City. I will instruct the Hunters that no-one is to leave town, not until this threat is contained.”

“How will we contain an army of vampires?” Quinn snapped, exasperated. Daniel turned to Isaiah.

“Is there any way we can move the wards out? Get them to safety?” he asked.
“No. Man’s realm is the last resort. The wards will be exposed and far more vulnerable if we take them outside of the enchantments. Besides… there are too many of them. How could we possibly protect them and keep them all together? The vampires will only find them that much quicker.”

“If they do get through our defenses,” Quinn forced herself to ask, “what will happen?”

Both Isaiah and Daniel considered this. It was a strategic question.

“The enchantments serve only to conceal,” Isaiah spoke slowly and deliberately. “If vampires were to enter Summerfeld, the charms would be broken, exposing the City. It would be visible to every single living creature that roams this earth, mankind included.” Quinn sat forward in her chair.

“But Summerfeld isn’t part of man’s realm.”

“It exists on earth,” he corrected. “We are standing in the City’s centre right now, we just cannot see it, or feel it, just as when we are inside Summerfeld we can no longer see this Cathedral, or man’s realm.” Moving toward the altar, he placed a hand on its stone surface. “Think of the Gateway as a locked door, and we are the key. If the door is destroyed, what lies beyond it is no longer safe.”

“They won’t get through the Gateway. We will die before we let that happen.”

“Therein lies the beauty of Eldon’s magic. We are the Gateway and they cannot pass through us, unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless your friend was right,” Daniel interjected. “It only takes one Guardian to unlock this door.”

In the silence that followed, Quinn brought the subject back to the matter at hand.

“So, if they do manage to expose the City, what then?” Isaiah turned to Daniel, who was more inclined to strategic thinking. He remained silent for some time, focusing his attention on the most logical sequence of events. Eventually, he lifted his head and raised his eyes to the enormous statue of King Eldon as though looking for guidance.

“They’ll target the Fae first… then the werewolves, unicorns, gryphons, firebirds. Their habitats are easily accessible and they stick together which makes them a softer target. Sadly, Zol will also not put up much of a fight. As the last of the trolls, his loss, while tragic, is the least significant. He has no mate and his species is destined to die out eventually.” Quinn felt a heart-wrenching sadness at the thought of the last remaining troll’s death, but she pushed her emotion aside to listen as Daniel continued. “The giants are harder to kill, given their thick skin. They are immune to vampire bites, and their incredible strength will make it difficult for the vampires to kill them. Their limited mental capacity also counts in their favour. They never actually sided with the Fae during the Blood war. The vampires may well leave them alone for this reason, rather than risk trying to attack them. The dwarves are craftier, and will probably be able to hide for an extended period.” Isaiah glanced up at the windows lining the vast apse, which depicted the surviving ten species, as if he were ticking them off a list. “The merfolk will be safe, at least for a while. The water will protect them and they have the underground caves.”

“What about the dragons?” Quinn asked after the one species he had not yet mentioned.

“The dragons served the Fae directly during the war. They will be targeted, but they’re harder to kill and harder to reach. Their habitat and their ability to fly could save their lives.”

“And their fire? Will it kill a vampire?” This question moved back into the area of the wards, and Isaiah answered, knowing them best.

“Only if breathed directly at one. A fully-focused fire attack will burn a vampire to ash, but lesser burns will only incapacitate, not kill.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Daniel murmured. Quinn could see why the Fae had used the dragons in the Blood War – they were a natural weapon. The only problem was that the dragons needed a few moments to recharge after a fire-breath, and those moments could be the difference between life and death. She was especially worried about the Chumana hatchlings, who could neither fly nor breathe fire.

Quinn didn’t want to consider what would happen if every creature within the City finally succumbed to the vampire’s vengeance, but she forced herself to ask the tough question.

“What will happen if all the wards are destroyed?”

“The Guardians will cease to exist,” Isaiah replied simply. “We were created to protect the wards, and, if there are no wards left, the Guardian charm will be broken. We will become human again and will live and die as all men do.” Quinn’s heart constricted at the words, not because she feared an ordinary life, but because that life would come at such a high price.

“We need to find the traitor,” Daniel announced suddenly. “Whoever it is will know that we are on to them soon enough and we need to be one step ahead. Do you have any idea who it might be?” he asked Isaiah.

“I’m not sure,” Isaiah admitted, casting a wary glance at Quinn, “but we have learned that the werewolf Caleb was planted inside the City. His allegiance lay with the vampires.” Daniel’s look of understanding sent a shock of pain through Quinn.

“And it was my father who found him,” she intoned hollowly.

“We cannot assume the worst of Braddon,” Isaiah murmured, “he may well be a pawn in someone else’s game.”

“My father may be many things, but he’s no fool.”

“We’ll need to do some digging before we can be sure,” Daniel pressed on. “In the meantime what do we do about the wards?”

“We need to warn them,” Isaiah answered. “The humanoids,” he added, referring to the Fae, werewolves and merfolk; all of whom could understand and communicate. “I do not want to cause a panic, but forewarned is forearmed, and they need to be prepared for the worst.”

“Okay,” Quinn agreed, getting to her feet. She was grateful to have something to do that would occupy her mind.

“Tomorrow,” Isaiah said, as she turned toward the altar. “It’s late and they need their rest. It could be the last decent night’s sleep any one of us gets for a while. We’ll tell them tomorrow.”

Chapter 41

Early the following morning Daniel sent Blair to relieve Isaiah so that he could join Quinn in warning the City’s inhabitants. Quinn wasn’t sure what Daniel was up to, but she was confident he was taking preventative measures of his own. They had agreed that they would ask the wards to keep their warning a secret from the other Guardians, knowing that, despite the outrageousness of this request, they would comply.

To Quinn’s dismay, Tristan caught up with her and Isaiah just as they reached Kellan and Freya’s.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he muttered, casting a curious glance at Isaiah.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Isaiah told them as Kellan opened the door.

Quinn nodded. “I’ll meet you inside.”

“What’s going on?” Tristan pleaded as they moved away from the house, coming to stand in the riot of colour that was Kellan’s front garden.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.” He looked pained. “Something is going on. Isaiah had Jack and Ava moved out of the City.” His desperation fueled Quinn’s guilt at keeping his own children from him. Tristan, however, noticed her lack of surprise upon hearing that the twins were no longer inside Summerfeld.

“You know why, don’t you?” he gasped, disbelievingly. “Quinn, you have to tell me what’s going on. I have a right to know!”

“You do,” she agreed, “but I can’t tell you anything, not yet anyway.”

“I want to help you. Please, let me help you.”

She gazed into his blue eyes - eyes that were filled with concern, and her heart broke for him. She was keeping so many secrets – Avery’s death, the Guardian betrayal, the attack that was coming. Secrets that were, like poison, festering inside her and making her doubt everything and everyone she had ever been sure of.

Tristan saw the sorrow in her eyes and reacted instinctively. He grabbed her face, roughly.

“Don’t do this… please. Don’t pull away from me. I love you.” Cupping her face in his hands, he brought his mouth down on hers. All the old fire between them ignited, the chemistry between them crackling off them like fire. Quinn’s mouth opened automatically and she lost herself for a moment in the heat of their embrace. Tristan’s strong hands held her face with infinite tenderness, making her feel loved and protected.

And then reality reasserted itself. She was drawn to him, as she always had been, and her attraction was genuine, but Quinn didn’t feel consumed by Tristan, as she did by Drake. It was ironic that, only in the arms of another man, could she finally see the truth, and realise how she truly felt about Drake. She had been a fool to think she could deny it, to believe that she could manipulate her own heart.

Pulling away she took Tristan’s hands in her own and lowered them from her face.

“I can’t do this,” she murmured, “I’m sorry, Tristan, but I have to go.”

“No.” His warm breath on her face and the desolate look in his eyes was torture. He had lost Avery and now he was losing her. Resolutely, Quinn turned away and into Kellan’s house.

As she closed the door, the last sight she had was of Tristan standing alone, his hands hanging empty at his sides, and his face contorted with the pain of losing her.

“Quinn?” Isaiah came to stand beside her. She had not moved, standing with her hand still clutching the door handle and her head bowed. “Are you all right?”

“No,” she admitted. Her chest was tightening and she was acutely aware that Tristan had not moved, even though she could no longer see him.

The sound of the baby crying was what finally roused her. Lifting her head, she turned to find Kellan and Isaiah watching her apprehensively. Freya’s eyes, however, were filled with kindness and compassion. She held baby Sage in her arms and the sight of the child reminded Quinn why they were here.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Let’s get on with it.”

Freya hugged Sage more tightly as Isaiah explained what was coming.

“Eldon have mercy on us,” she murmured, tears pricking her eyelids. She was not concerned with her own safety, but with that of her child. “We should make a run for it before they get here.”

“It may already be too late for that,” Quinn murmured.

“Besides, there is nowhere as safe as Summerfeld,” Kellan added, but Quinn saw a burning question in his eyes. He was hoping that the Guardians would correct him – that perhaps there was a sanctuary waiting for them all, but neither Quinn nor Isaiah could grant his wish. There was nowhere to run.

“We will not let them through the Gateway,” Quinn promised. Without a Guardian to let them through, the vampires would only get as far as the Cathedral.

“We will not ask you to die for us,” Kellan said.

“You don’t need to,” Isaiah smiled sadly. “That’s kind of the point of our existence.” Every loyal Guardian would die before allowing a vampire into the City. It was their most sacred vow.

“We can help,” Kellan offered. “This was a Fae war to begin with, the least we can do is fight alongside you.” Isaiah smiled sadly.

“That was when the Fae had their magic. Without it, you cannot possibly stand against the vampire’s strength. Even with your bows,” he added, as Kellan opened his mouth to speak. “We appreciate your offer but to involve you would only make matters worse. The Guardians need to be focused and, having members of the Fae join the fray, would only distract us. The vampires would use you as leverage in a heartbeat.”

“So long as we do not allow them through, you’ll be safe,” Quinn added. “If we fail, more Guardians will come.” She didn’t add that, in the event of the vampires defeating eleven trained Guardians, it was unlikely that any new recruits would be able to stand against them. The truth was that if they failed, all hope was lost.

“Untrained Guardians, you mean?” Kellan saw straight through her words. They all knew that if the Guardians here fell, it would be over.

“I ask that you warn your people,” Isaiah changed the subject. “But do not speak of this to anyone, particularly the other Guardians. Only Quinn, Daniel and myself.”

“Do you want to tell me the reason I shouldn’t trust the others?” Kellan knew that they were keeping something from him.

“I think you already know the answer to that question.” It was as good as an admission, and Kellan’s eyes widened in horror. “Please,” Isaiah continued, “trust us.” Kellan nodded, too overwhelmed to speak and Quinn gave Freya and Sage a quick reassuring hug before they departed to carry their message to the wolves.

Channon and Rafe were not so easily persuaded to stay out of harm’s way.

“We will not stand by and do nothing,” Channon snarled, “the pack can help.” Quinn noticed once again the Alpha pride that radiated from her. Rafe nodded his agreement. Even in human form the wolves were incredibly strong and were natural fighters. Of all the wards, only the wolves and the dragons would be useful in combat. Quinn could tell immediately that Channon would not take no for an answer, so instead, she offered a compromise.

“If things go awry, I will send someone back into the City to fetch you,” she promised “and of course, if the fight does enter Summerfeld, there is not much we can do to stop you.”

Isaiah said nothing, but she could tell by the set of his jaw that he didn’t like it. Channon held her gaze, trying to establish if she was lying, but Quinn didn’t flinch. She meant what she said. If she thought that the wolves could help, she would do just about anything to protect the City, even if it meant putting them in danger.

“Rather we lose one species, than ten,” she told Isaiah as they waited for the unicorns that would carry them to Lake Avalon.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I can tell what you’re thinking, and yet you didn’t argue back there.”

“Because you’re right,” he turned to look at her. “You make the tough calls, the decisions that I don’t have the nerve to make. I told you once that you will do great things. I believe I am witnessing those things now, when we need you the most.”

Embarrassed, Quinn looked away, just as Sheehan and Etana burst from the trees. Quinn recalled that these same two mares had carried her and Kellan to Dragon’s Peak to save the Chumana egg cluster. That was when Jack and Ava’s safety was the only thing she had been worried about. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Quinn! Isaiah!” Quinn faltered as her father’s voice carried to them. He was moving towards them, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Braddon!” Isaiah called out in polite greeting. Quinn could barely bring herself to look at him.

“Where are you headed?” Braddon asked, gazing up at them.

“We’re just doing a routine check of the herd,” Isaiah replied easily.

“May I join you?”

“No!” Quinn’s answer rang out and Braddon’s head jerked up at the sound. “I mean, there’s no point, really,” Quinn continued awkwardly. “We won’t be long and we’re already mounted.”

This time there was no denying it. Braddon searched her face, holding her gaze for longer than was necessary.

“Is everything okay, Quinn?” he asked.

“Fine,” she smiled, “I’m just tired.”

“I went by to see Jack and Ava earlier.” Braddon let the sentence hang between them.

“Camille wanted to see her family,” Isaiah interjected smoothly. “I allowed it and I thought it might be traumatic for the twins to be separated from her after everything they’ve been through already.”

“And you didn’t feel I should know?” Braddon was skirting the line between accusation and forced politeness.

“He told me,” Quinn snapped. “I was their custodian for two years and I said it was all right.”

Braddon didn’t say anything for a long moment but eventually he stepped back.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you later. There is something I’d like to discuss with you,” he added, glancing meaningfully at Quinn.

They had only just entered the woods when Isaiah opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t,” Quinn warned. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Reaching the lake, the familiar mist blanketed them in its icy embrace and Quinn shivered in her inadequate tank top. At least her legs were warm, encased in black cargo pants and her most comfortable black boots.

She was morbidly curious to see how Isaiah would summon the merfolk, and she felt oddly deflated when he simply stood at the water’s edge, doing nothing. She came to stand beside him, scanning the smooth surface of the lake.

“Aren’t you going to call them?” she whispered after a few more minutes of silence.

“There’s no need,” he smiled, “they already know we’re here.” He indicated a spot a few yards out, where Quinn noticed a small ripple forming. It became larger and larger until a crown of golden hair broke the surface.

Taking in the onyx black eyes, Quinn recognised the merman who had saved her life when she was still a girl and she and Avery had ventured too close to the dragon’s den. She had been terrified then, a young girl who had disobeyed her father’s rule. Now, she stood before the merman as a powerful Guardian, unnerved by the cold glint in his eyes.

Isaiah greeted the merman, calling him by a name that Quinn couldn’t pronounce.

“What is your message, Guardian?” the merman asked, and Quinn got the distinct impression that he felt them to be beneath him. It was strange, when all the other wards treated the Guardians with reverence, or at the very least, respect.

“War is coming.” Isaiah replied simply. “The vampires have discovered the City’s location.”

The merman’s black eyes showed no emotion.

“Thank you for the warning.” He started to retreat below the surface and Quinn stepped forward.

“What will you do?” she called.

“We will retreat to the caves.” He eyed her meditatively. “You have grown into a beautiful woman, daughter of Braddon.” Quinn was startled. She had not thought he would recognise her.

“My name is Quinn, and… thank you,” she added graciously, “but I don’t think you realise the danger you are in.”

“My people have lived in these waters for almost two thousand years. I expect we will continue to do so for centuries more.”

“Two thousand?” she asked, but he had already dived beneath the surface.

The Blood War had taken place a little over a thousand years ago, and the City had been created shortly after. Quinn wondered if the merfolk had any concept of time. Sensing her confusion, Isaiah explained.

“Eldon could not move merfolk into the City, they would perish out of water. So instead, he created Summerfeld around them. This particular clan has been here since the beginning of time.”

“This clan?”

“Yes. The Avalon clan was the largest in existence when Eldon created Summerfeld.” As he spoke, it struck her that there was still so much she didn’t know.

“But then… if there was more than one clan and it’s so difficult for the vampires to reach the merfolk under the water, does that mean that there are still others outside of Summerfeld? In the realm of man?”

“Oh, I am absolutely certain there are, but we would never find them, and, even if we did, we couldn’t possibly move them, so our concern is for this clan only.” Quinn was beginning to feel as though she had learned more in the past few days than she had in her three hundred years of being a Guardian.

“But, if merfolk remain, even if the City falls, surely the Guardian charm cannot be broken?”

“Sadly, I don’t think that is the case. The charm exists to protect the wards in need of protection. The merfolk outside of the City have never relied on us for their survival, and we couldn’t help them even if we wanted to. It is the same with any other wards that are outside of the City. Caleb is proof that there are those who remain in the realm of man, but I think the charm binds us only to the inhabitants of the City.”

“So basically put, when the last ward of Summerfeld falls, so do we?”

“In a nutshell,” he replied grimly. “But we’re not going to let that happen.”

They had had a busy day, seeking out and warning the wards and their journey to Lake Avalon had taken more time than they expected. As they trotted back to the cornflower field, Quinn was acutely aware of the darkening horizon, when something else occurred to her.

“There is still one group we haven’t considered,” she pointed out as they dismounted, “the gypsies.” As much as she distrusted them, the gypsies needed to be warned about the danger coming.

“Yes, I had thought of that,” Isaiah replied. “But as far as they are concerned, there is only one logical solution.” Quinn nodded grimly. It was something she had sworn she would never do.

“We have to let them out.”

Exhausted, she followed Isaiah to Camille’s house, where Jonas and the others had taken up lodging with Monique since Camille’s departure. The absence of Jack and Ava made it seem empty and lifeless. Quinn took Balthazar aside, not wanting to alarm the others.

Chapter 42

While Quinn was warning the Summerfeld wards, Drake had a different contingent to deal with. The surge of vampires into New Haven was mind-boggling. They arrived in droves, under the cover of night, reporting immediately to the house he was sharing with Charlotte. The owner invited each one inside, at Charlotte’s command, which was the only reason she was keeping him alive. As spokesperson for the council, Charlotte greeted each new vampire arrival personally, before instructing them to keep their presence a secret. Lenora raised an eyebrow at this, given that the sheer number would be impossible to hide, but Drake ignored her.

Charlotte had not been thrilled by Lenora’s sudden reappearance, but she tolerated her because Lenora was an old and powerful vampire, and because she claimed she wanted to be a part of the uprising. She was also shrewd enough to realise that harming Lenora so soon after Genevieve’s demise might cause Drake to snap. Charlotte was more attracted to him than she would ever have believed. He was the first man since her rebirth who excited her, and the first person she was afraid of, which only fueled her lust. Meanwhile, unbeknown to her, Lenora was trying desperately to break the hold that Charlotte had over Drake.

Cornering him in a quiet part of the house while Charlotte busied herself with the latest arrivals, Lenora tried once more to get through to him. It terrified her that he seemed to have completely given himself over to Charlotte, obeying her every instruction and hanging on her every word. He was a completely different person. She cursed Quinn, and whatever it was she had said to him in the woods that night that had pushed him over the edge. Charlotte was a predator, and it had taken only one moment of weakness for her to sink her claws into Drake, twisting him around her finger until he was barely recognisable. Lenora had never known him to be so cruel, or so cold.

“She’s evil,” Lenora insisted, for what felt like the hundredth time. “Why are you helping her?” Drake picked up his glass and swirled the amber liquid inside before lifting it to his lips.

“I had to make a choice. I will not be party to the slaughter of hundreds of our own.”

“If you really believed that, you would tell her that the Guardians know she’s coming,” she pointed out.

“And risk my own life?” he laughed without mirth, “Or do you have a better explanation for how they know. Besides, you should be proud of me, I have given the Guardians a fighting chance. It’s more than they deserve.”

“Hell hath no fury like a vampire scorned,” Lenora drawled. “I can’t believe you would give Quinn up just because she wounded your damned male pride.”

He leapt to his feet, knocking over his glass as he did, and seized her shoulders, his hands biting painfully into her soft flesh.

“Lenora,” he snarled, his green eyes icy with rage, “I have known you for a very long time and you have earned my respect, but I swear on my grave if you mention that name one more time, I will end you.”

“Why?” she challenged. “Because you know I’m right? Because you know you’ve made a terrible mistake? You love her, Drake.”

“Love her?” he sneered. “I barely know her! She could never compare to what I have with Charlotte.”

“All you have with Charlotte is a lifetime of pain and suffering. How can you forget everything she put you through so easily?”

“I was weak when she needed me to be strong. I failed her once, I will not make the same mistake again.”

“She doesn’t care about you.”

“Shows how little you know.”

“This isn’t you. You think Charlotte cares for you because she’s good in the sack? It doesn’t work like that and you know it. She’s always had this hold over you, but it’s not love. It’s not real.”

“Like what you had with Isaiah?” he taunted. “All this time I thought you were noble, to steer clear of the Quest, but you’re not. You’re a coward! Staying out of the action because you were pining for an old lover who didn’t want you anymore, who would rather you were dead than spend one more minute with you. You can’t fool me, Lenora – the only reason you want to stop this invasion is to protect your beloved Isaiah, but you need to face the fact that he will fall… just as they all will.” Lenora refused to rise.

“I want to stop this invasion because it’s the right thing to do, and deep down you know it. I only hope that you realise it in time, because you won’t come back from this. What you felt for Quinn… that’s real. You think losing Charlotte was bad? If Quinn dies because of you, you will never forgive yourself.”

The mention of Quinn’s name was the final straw and he pushed her away in disgust.

“I want you gone,” he ordered. “Now. Get out of town or I will tell Charlotte that you are not who you claim to be.” Lenora shook her head in disgust.

“Fine!” she hissed, realising that nothing she could say would make any difference. “Watching you self-destruct is not something I want to witness anyway. But don’t come looking for comfort when this is over and you realise you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life!”

As she fled the room she passed Charlotte who had come looking for Drake.

“What was that about?” Charlotte asked, her brow furrowed. She longed for a reason to execute Lenora, and it was only the fear of Drake’s wrath that kept her in check. If they had had a falling out, that no longer applied.

“Nothing,” Drake bared his fangs. “What is it?” His foul temper did nothing to diminish her euphoria and Charlotte leaned against the door frame, looking absurdly pleased with herself.

“It’s time,” she replied simply. “Everyone is here. We’re attacking the City… tonight.”

A small frown crossed his face.

“I thought we were going to ambush individual Guardians and secure their crystals?”

“We have two… all thanks to you,” she added smugly. “And there is no more time. My source informs me that the Guardians may suspect something.”

“Your source?” he moved toward her, gazing down at the ample swell of her breasts. “Don’t you think it’s time you told me who this Guardian is?”

“Why, are you jealous?” she taunted.

“You should know me better than that,” he replied arrogantly. “But I think I have earned your confidence.”

“You have,” she smiled sweetly, “bringing me the crystals proves it. But it doesn’t matter who my source is. It only matters that we are finally going to annihilate them all.” An erotic thrill washed over her. “Tonight, Summerfeld will be destroyed, along with every living creature within it. Tonight, we feast on Guardian blood!”

Her excitement overwhelmed her and she clutched at him, not caring that the door stood open or that the others would hear. She needed a release and Drake willingly obliged. He had her back, finally, and he lost himself in her sweet cloying scent and the warmth of her embrace.

When it was over, he led her downstairs and out into the night. In a twist of irony, Charlotte gathered the vampire army in the gypsy clearing, spilling out into the woods surrounding it. The Guardians wouldn’t stand a chance against the veritable army the council had sent, and Drake’s blood thundered in his head as he listened to Charlotte instructing them. He was doing this all for her, but, as her words rained down on him he started to believe them. These were his people, he was one of them and this was exactly where he belonged. The war would end, tonight, and it would be over. Charlotte would be satisfied and they would all be safe. And then, it would be just the two of them, with an eternity to spend together, without fear of attack.

Just as he had forbidden Lenora to mention her name, he pushed all thought of Quinn to the very darkest recess of his mind. He hoped she might survive the attack, but even if she didn’t, what did it matter? They were enemies, after all, and all that mattered now was Charlotte.

Chapter 43

“We could help,” Balthazar insisted when Quinn broke the news. He sounded just like Kellan and Channon.

“No. You honestly couldn’t,” Quinn insisted, “but I appreciate the offer. The three of you need to get out of here as soon as you can. I will escort you through the Gateway myself. Pack only what you absolutely…” she trailed off at the sight of Piper, who was sprinting down the cobbled street toward them. Piper was a calm and gentle soul but the look on her face turned Quinn’s blood to ice in her veins. They were too late. Leaving Balthazar in mid-sentence, she raced toward her friend. Her fears were confirmed the second Piper opened her mouth.

“Daniel sent me,” she panted, clutching her chest. “He’s in the Cathedral, with Blair. He said to tell you they’re coming.”

She didn’t need to explain any more. Quinn knew who ‘they’ were; the vampires were coming. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion after that. Screaming for Isaiah, Quinn watched as he emerged from the house, his face rigid. As their eyes met, Quinn nodded and Isaiah leapt off the porch, his feet pounding the flagstone beneath him.

“Piper, the City is under attack!” Quinn roared at her terrified friend, who didn’t seem to grasp what was going on. “Fetch the Guardians – all of them!” Not waiting for a response she tore after Isaiah.

The Cathedral was deceptively quiet. Quinn rushed immediately to one of the massive windows but she saw no sign of anything untoward.

“I don’t see anything,” she whispered.

“Quinn,” Daniel cleared his throat behind her and she whirled around to see him standing near the altar. He wasn’t alone, Blair stood a few feet from him, glaring at the woman on his other side. Even in the dim light, Lenora was instantly recognisable. “They are coming,” Daniel assured Quinn. “Lenora came to warn us.” Quinn’s eyes immediately sought Isaiah’s, but his wise face showed no expression as he gazed at Lenora, nor did he make any move towards her.

“I overheard Charlotte telling Drake as I was leaving,” Lenora explained, casting an apologetic look at Quinn at the mention of his name.

“Drake is with her?” Quinn could hear the tremor in her own voice.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Quinn. I tried to stop him, but he’s too angry. Charlotte preys on his dark side. I did warn you this would happen,” she added meaningfully.

“Drake is your friend?” Daniel asked. “The one you mentioned?”

“He was,” Quinn replied. “Obviously not anymore.” She didn’t let on how much this hurt, or how badly his defection affected her and she was saved from having to say anything else by the en masse arrival of the other Guardians.

“What’s going on?” Braddon demanded, striding toward them. The others fanned out behind him, and Quinn met Tristan’s eye over his shoulder.

“The vampires have found us,” Daniel answered Braddon’s question. “They will be here soon. We need to arm ourselves with whatever we can carry and prepare to defend the City.”

Quinn watched them all carefully, looking for any sign that might reveal the traitor, but she saw only genuine astonishment etched on every face.

“What is she doing here?” Liam broke the silence that followed and all eyes turned to Lenora, who had emerged from the shadows below the statute of King Eldon. Daniel held up a hand as Liam and Garret moved forward as one, their instinct demanding Lenora’s blood. Isaiah emitted a low growl and moved between her and the Hunters.

“This vampire has helped us at great personal cost and will not be harmed,” said Daniel. “Take a good look at her face and remember it. She is on our side.”

Daniel sent Blair, Liam and Garrett through the back of the Cathedral to gather weapons while he spoke to the others, issuing instructions and answering questions as quickly as possible. Isaiah had disappeared, but he returned quickly and Quinn noticed with a start of surprise that he was holding the Sacred book.

“What is it?” Daniel called, noticing the thoughtful expression on Isaiah’s face as he carried it back to them.

“We have to destroy it,” Isaiah replied, and a collective gasp rippled through them. “We cannot let it fall into their hands.” His words were a poignant reminder that they might not make it through this night – that the vampires might very well take control of the Cathedral.

“But if we destroy it all of Eldon’s teachings will be lost,” Quinn murmured.

“This book was transcribed from the original scrolls written by Eldon,” Isaiah explained, not able to meet Quinn’s eyes. “The scrolls still exist, locked inside of the Blood Temple with Wintyr.”

Nobody spoke, processing this new information.

“Original scrolls?” Quinn asked eventually, her anger rising. “Why weren’t we told?”

“There is no time to explain now,” Isaiah apologised, “but each of us has studied this book,” his voice growing in strength and conviction as he held it up for them all to see. “We know its teachings and we can pass them on to our predecessors.”

“Burn it,” Piper’s usually gentle voice was hard and unyielding. “I’d rather see it burn than fall into the hands of those monsters.”

Quinn watched with mixed emotions as they all stepped back, letting Isaiah pass. He walked directly to the fireplace beside the council table and, without another word, tossed the ancient leather-bound tome into the flames.

Turning away from the terrible sight, Quinn moved back to the window, staring out into the still night.

“The scrolls,” she murmured as Isaiah came to stand behind her.

“Quinn, I am asking you to let it go for now. I know you have questions and I will be happy to answer them if we survive this night. For now, I need you to be at your best.” Shaking off the anger she felt, Quinn nodded.

“Don’t you think it’s time we told them? They deserve to know one of our own might betray us, particularly since we are probably all going to die tonight.”

“It will only cause a panic. We cannot work as a team without trust. The one who betrayed us will reveal him or herself, and then the truth will out.”

“Who is it?” Quinn turned to face him. “Who do you suspect?”

Isaiah opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment Daniel called for everyone’s attention. The Hunters had returned, laden with weapons, which they dumped unceremoniously on the council table.

“Gather around!” Daniel instructed. “I want each of you to take a crossbow, a couple of stakes, and as many bottles of Cliffdale water as you can manage,” he paused as they all started grabbing items off the table. Quinn slotted four bottles of water into her cargo pockets, and slid a silver stake into each boot. Lifting her crossbow, she checked the sight and then lowered it to her side. Isaiah hadn’t reached for anything on the table. Instead, he moved back toward the fireplace, where the smoking remains of the Sacred Book still burned. Raising his hand he pressed it against a tiny fissure in the stone, and to Quinn’s astonishment, a thin hollow appeared.

Everyone had stopped to watch as Isaiah withdrew a silver sword with a dazzling golden hilt from the recess. The sword seemed to vibrate in his hands as though it had a life of its own. All eyes travelled upward, to the statue behind him. There was no mistaking the sword. It was the same one that Eldon wielded in the stone monument. One by one, the Guardians realised the truth. Isaiah, the Slayer, was no longer in hiding. Daniel gave them a moment to process this fact, waiting for the flood of questions. Instead, there was absolute silence, and satisfied, Daniel started to speak.

“We all know how these things fight. They are strong and they are fast, but more importantly, they show no mercy. I suggest you do the same. Aim for the heart and do not hesitate. Above all, we do not allow them through the Gateway.” A murmur of assent rose through the ranks.

Daniel glanced over the ten faces staring back at him, a collective grim resolve, and he lowered his voice. “You are all exceptional Guardians… even you, little one,” his eyes fell on Monique, who was standing tall and determined. “I am proud to fight beside you.”

Isaiah used the opportunity while the others were distracted to step closer to Lenora.

“You should go,” he murmured, so softly that only she could hear. “Before they get here. There’s still time…”

Lenora nodded. She had no intention of getting caught up in this war – she had only come to deliver the message because it was the right thing to do. In turn, Isaiah didn’t want her anywhere near the fighting, but his desire to have her out of harm’s way wasn’t entirely altruistic. Lenora was blissfully unaware of the agony he was enduring being so close to her. The enchantments prevented him from sensing vampires, and kept the Slayer at bay, but Lenora was within the charm’s protection, and it took everything in him not to attack her where she stood.

“For what it’s worth, I hope you make it.” Lenora turned to leave.

“It’s worth a lot,” he smiled sadly, but before she could reply, Piper’s frantic cry came from the window beside the Cathedral doors.

“They’re coming!”

Quinn shot forward to see for herself, as did every other Guardian in the room. A lone vampire stood on the crest of the hill, within Cliffdale’s boundaries. Even from this distance, under the pale light of the moon, Quinn could see by her silhouette that the vampire was a woman, slight of frame, with heavy dark tresses falling over one shoulder.

“Charlotte,” Lenora said, confirming Quinn’s suspicions. As they watched, more figures emerged, appearing out of thin air as they crossed the portal into Cliffdale.

Piper whimpered as their numbers grew and Quinn felt her own stomach turn.

“Remember,” Daniel spoke with the same assurance he had earlier. “We cannot let them through. No matter what.” Quinn made a decision.

“I’m not waiting for them to get in here,” she hissed, striding past the others and yanking open the Cathedral doors.

She walked with purpose, pushing all of her fear and doubt into the deepest part of her. Silently, the other Guardians fanned out beside her, with Daniel on her left and Isaiah on her right.

They came to a halt and Quinn lifted her crossbow, watching the army stream down toward them in a solid black mass.

End of Book 2...

Book 3: The Hope of Hawkstone

Chapter 1

Eleven Guardians stood in a formidable line outside the open doors of the Cliffdale Cathedral, the magnificent edifice which housed the Gateway to another world - the world of Summerfeld, sanctuary for the ten supernatural species which had survived the Blood War. In one thousand years the City had never been breached by their enemies - the vampires who sought to destroy them - protected as it was by the enchantments King Eldon himself had cast. The enchantments ensured that no man or vampire could find the City, let alone enter it. Watching the black horde swarming toward them, Quinn Harden knew that only one charm could save the City now. The Guardians themselves.

A lone female vampire stood on the crest of the hill above the Cathedral, gazing down at them as her people took up position. Charlotte’s extraordinary vision missed nothing and she fought the urge to laugh at the pitiful defence assembled below her. Eleven Guardians were no match for her army. She ran her eye along them, taking in each one. She couldn’t be sure who the Hunters were, but she suspected the two men in the centre would be the most formidable opponents. They carried themselves differently to the others and power radiated off them. She recognised the woman between them immediately but she was hardly worth worrying about. She would not survive this night.

Drake, approaching from behind Charlotte, had also spotted Quinn and his resolve slipped at the sight of her. Beautiful and fierce she held his attention so that he barely noticed the other Guardians, but Charlotte’s sudden hiss of fury drew his attention to the open doors of the Cathedral. Radiant in the light spilling from within, stood Lenora. Drake baulked at the sight of his oldest friend as she stepped deliberately off the stone steps and came to stand beside the Guardians. He had threatened her, told her to run or he would expose her as a traitor. He had never really intended to hand her over to Charlotte, but he could never have guessed in a million years that Lenora would be so foolish as to try to stand against her.

“She will die for this,” Charlotte vowed.

Initially Quinn deliberately avoided looking at Drake. She knew that the moment she really saw him she would have to accept that this was happening – that he had betrayed her. She preferred to think of him as just another nameless face in the crowd. By the time she did glance up in his direction it was too late. Drake and Charlotte had been swept up in the moving crowd, indiscernible from the mass of evil pouring into the Guardians’ most sacred place.

As the vampires drew nearer, Quinn readied her bow and, the second they were within range, she released the first deadly arrow striking a male vampire through the heart. The other Guardians followed suit, opening fire, and, throughout the vampire ranks, bodies fell to the ground. It took less than a second to reload and over and over again the Guardians fired, taking down dozens of their enemies.

Incensed, the vampires charged. Breaking their ranks made it harder to aim; but the Guardians’ training ensured they didn’t miss. Only when the stampeding army was almost upon them did they retreat into the Cathedral, forcing the vampires to converge as they funneled through the open doors. Only a few vampires could come through at a time, and initially, the Guardians held them at bay, taking down one after another. Quinn’s stakes gleamed red as she plunged them over and over into the hearts of those who came near her, while the heavy weight of her laden stake belt, holding yet still more of the deadly weapons, banged against her hip.

Piper and Monique, despite having the least combat experience, were holding their own, assisted by Tristan, and, to Quinn’s surprise, Lenora. Blair and Daniel were working together as a team, as were Garrett and Liam. Hearing a snarl behind her Quinn turned, too late, to find a vampire soaring through the air as he leapt toward her. She couldn’t get her stake up in time and she dropped low to the ground, shielding her head with her arms as she waited for a blow that never came. Lifting her head, she saw her father towering above her with the body of her attacker dead at his feet. Only Lucas and Isaiah were unaccounted for, although it was impossible to keep track of everybody in the meleé, and, as the vampire corpses greyed, the ash grew thick in the air, making it more difficult to see.

The hiss of displaced air sounded, so close that Quinn felt her hair rise off her cheek as blood sprayed toward her in an arc, splattering her cheeks with the warm, wet liquid. Isaiah appeared through the ash, lifting the sword again and swinging around in a deadly blur of steel and leather. Quinn heard the sickening squelch as a couple of vampires heads landed on the floor near her feet. She stayed with Isaiah, keeping low behind his back and doing more damage under the shelter of his protection than she could out in the open; exposed.

They were doing well, Quinn thought, but, soon enough, the sheer number of the vampire force began to win out and the Guardians were forced backward, losing their advantage. Vampires poured into the great hall, surrounding them like ants. Above the fierce sound of dueling, Quinn heard the sound of glass shattering but she was too hemmed in to locate the source of the noise.

Lenora, however, was right beside the window when it smashed inward, raining shards of rainbow glass over her head. The sight of Drake climbing up through the window froze Lenora in place.

“Come on!” Drake offered Charlotte a hand up through the window he had just smashed. They were on the far side of the Cathedral, having doubled around to avoid the fighting. Drake wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but the vampire numbers seemed to be dwindling. Charlotte gazed upon the slaughter around them with only mild curiosity. It didn’t matter to her how many vampires lost their lives; they were collateral damage and could easily be replaced. The Guardians were putting up a good fight but they couldn’t possibly hope to win in the end. Even as she watched, more vampires were swarming through the open doors.

Quinn had become separated from Isaiah and was fighting alongside Piper when she felt it. Her breath caught in her throat and she stopped dead in her tracks. Fortunately, Piper knocked her to the ground just as a vampire streaked overhead. He had been aiming for Quinn’s throat. The hard landing knocked one of her stakes out of her hand, but Quinn barely noticed, her heart racing. Her crystal was here, she could sense it. No vampire but Drake and Genevieve knew where she lived and Lenora had told her that Genevieve was dead. Which left only one possible explanation: Drake had found it.

Scanning the room frantically, she caught a glimpse of a dark head slipping through the throng on the far side of the room. Trying desperately to reach him, she took a brutal blow to her ribs and doubled over in pain.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” an evil voice taunted, and Quinn looked up to see four vampires advancing toward her, holding their arms out at their sides to ensure she could not evade them.

“You hit like a girl,” she spat at the tallest one who had spoken. Retreating slowly, she found herself backed up against the cold stone of the far wall, near the door to the record room. Piper was nowhere to be seen. Gripping her stake firmly, Quinn anticipated their movements, waiting for an opening. When it came, she lunged forward, staking the vampire nearest her through the chest, the squelching sound as she pulled her stake free like music to her ears.

“Who’s next?” she sneered.

The tallest vampire gave a shriek of fury and reached for her. Quinn deflected him, but her stake was knocked from her hand.

“Not so brave without it, are you?” His eyes dropped to her stake belt, but Quinn reached into her pocket instead, withdrawing a bottle of Cliffdale water. Before he could register what it was, she hurled the contents into his face.

The vampire screamed, clutching at his face in agony as the smell of burning flesh assailed Quinn’s nostrils. As his fellows gazed upon his bubbling skin, she tugged a new stake from her belt and ran it through the chest of the vampire to her left. The last vampire seized the opportunity as her back was turned, to grab her from behind, pinning her left arm to her side. Not missing a beat, Quinn withdrew her stake arm, flipping the stake expertly in her hand, and brought her arm back. Her stake impaled itself in the vampire’s stomach, which would not kill him, but the pain caused him to loosen his grip. Twisting in his slack hold, Quinn lifted her knee savagely up into his groin, her right hand still firmly on the hilt of her stake. As he buckled over, clutching the affected area, the stake came free, and she lifted it high above his head before plunging it through his back and into his heart.

On and on she fought, slowly moving back toward the place she had spied Drake. And then she heard it… a battle cry so powerful that it reverberated through her body. The entire room seemed to freeze at the sound and Quinn watched as Isaiah finally allowed the full might of the Slayer to emerge. His grace and form was both terrifying and beautiful all at once. Glorious in his carnage, Quinn had never seen anything like it. The way he moved defied gravity and logic as vampires dropped dead at his feet by the dozen. Isaiah’s youthful face was spattered with blood and the sword gleamed scarlet, as he cast aside one enemy after another, a snarl of pure, unadulterated rage making him the most dangerous being she had ever encountered.

The vampires inside the Cathedral could not tear their eyes from Isaiah. The Slayer was their single greatest fear and Charlotte had assured them that no Slayer existed. In the quiet stillness of that moment, Quinn turned her head and locked eyes with Drake. Her heart seemed to thud to a halt in her chest. He stood beside the altar with Charlotte, and, behind them, his eyes closed as he whispered the words that would take them through the portal, was Tristan.

Quinn couldn’t move her feet. She felt as if her whole body had turned to lead. In the instant that the three of them disappeared she felt a sense of complete and utter despair, but then they reappeared, and, for one brief, glorious moment she believed that Tristan hadn’t betrayed them after all. And then, she felt it. A pulse coursed through her like an electric shock as she watched what looked like an invisible force field descend around them. Through the smashed window Quinn saw a familiar courtyard in the distance, surrounded by quaint houses. The fountain of youth gurgled innocently just a few hundred yards away. The enchantments had been breached and the magic concealing the City was falling away. The mild scent of cornflowers permeated the air and Quinn realised with a start that the Cathedral was actually nestled in the vast cornflower field, the same field she had crossed hundreds of times without ever realising its significance. Thinking about the clumps of cornflowers that grew around the Cathedral it made sense. A screech sounded from far away, and she whipped around, her dread mounting. Through the back windows, Dragon’s Peak towered above them in the distance.

It made perfect sense, but the consequences of what had just happened were beyond comprehension. After all these years their devotion and dedication had been for nothing. A vampire had entered the City exposing it to the naked eye. Summerfeld had fallen.

Chapter 2

Kellan felt the dread that had settled inside of him explode outwards, searing him from the inside, as an explosion reverberated around the City shaking the very earth beneath it. The warehouse below him creaked in protest, shuddering ominously, but Kellan barely noticed. He kept his eyes on the cornflower field, in which, through a hazy ripple, a magnificent Cathedral seemed to sprout from the ground. Great marble pillars blossomed into stained glass windows, and finally, a high-domed ceiling, taller than any man-made basilica. The massive black shadow that spilled out of its doors and windows shifted and morphed into a ferocious mob, fangs bared.

“Eldon protect us,” Freya gasped at his side. There were so many, and, as they watched, tendrils split from the whole, clusters of vampires who started spreading out into the City itself.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Kellan regretted every action he had taken up until this moment. The thought of his wife and his child only a few streets down crippled him with fear. Freya, too, experienced a wave of regret. She should never have insisted on being here. She should have stayed with Sage. How could she have left her alone in the wake of that?

A few hours earlier, when Quinn and the other Guardians had disappeared through the portal, the wards of Summerfeld had sprung into action, led by Kellan and Channon.

“Kellan!” Channon yelled, crossing the street to meet him as the last of the Guardians raced toward the fountain. “Quinn told you what’s happening?” Channon asked, her face flushed.

“Yes,” Kellan replied. “The vampires have found us.” He watched as Monique, trailing the others, vanished from sight. The Guardians were gone now, off to fight a battle that they might not win. Kellan experienced a moment of pure, unadulterated fear for the brave warriors he considered friends.

“She told you about the traitor?’ Channon continued, and Kellan nodded.

“Not in as many words, but she mentioned there might be a chance they could break through the Gateway.”

“We need to be ready,” Channon instructed. Her amber eyes seemed to glow yellow and Kellan took an involuntary step back, glancing up at the sky. The quarter moon hung harmlessly above them. He must be seeing things. “My wolves will fight,” Channon continued. “I’ve sent a message to all of them to gather in the courtyard. I suggest you bring your people too - anyone who is able to help. Send the rest indoors and tell them to barricade themselves in. I’m not sure if the vampires’ weakness will apply in here, but with any luck they won’t be able to get into the houses without being invited in.”

Kellan hadn’t considered this, but, even if it worked, it would simply make them prisoners in their own homes. They would starve to death, at best. Kellan rounded up every Fae man in their community, including Velkan and his father, Harlan.

“What about the hatchlings?” Velkan asked, when Kellan fetched him from the shed. Kellan rounded on Mairin who was preparing their meat dinner.

“Mairin, you stay with them. Lock this door when we leave and try to keep them as quiet as possible. Mairin looked terrified but she did as she was told. She grabbed Velkan’s hand as he passed and gave him a brief hug before pulling her raven hair over her eyes to hide her emotion.

“We’re going to fetch your dad, too,” Velkan told her. “We’ll send Isadora back to be with you.” The mention of her mother sent Mairin over the edge and she gave way to her sobs.

“Leave it,” Kellan put out a restraining arm as Velkan stepped forward to comfort her. There wasn’t any time.

Freya intercepted them on their way out of the garden. Taking in her bow and quiver, Kellan raised his hands.

“No,” he commanded. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m coming with you.”

Velkan hovered awkwardly and Kellan waved him on. “You go ahead. Fetch the others and meet me in the courtyard.” As the boy took off Kellan turned back to Freya.

“You need to stay with Sage.”

“Anaise is with her,” Freya replied, deliberately remaining impassive. “She will keep her safe and it’ll keep her mind off Velkan. She’s terrified.”

“As she should be. You need to go back inside.”

“Kellan,” Freya replied firmly, “you can stand here and argue with me, or we can stop wasting time and join the others. The chances are that nothing bad will enter the City but I can’t just sit at home and wait. If they are going to come for us, I need to be out here, protecting our baby girl.”

“You need to let me protect you!” Kellan tried one last time to reason with her, but Freya gave him a small sorrowful smile.

“If they do get in and they get past you… I’m as good as dead, anyway.”

He relented finally. It was imperative he get back to the others and Freya could be as stubborn as a mule. He could argue all day and it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. That didn’t stop him hoping that the others might be able to convince her though.

A crowd had gathered in the courtyard; a motley crew consisting of most of the faery men, the entire wolf pack, and, to Kellan’s surprise, the gypsies, who looked completely out of place.

“Tell us what you need us to do,” Balthazar barked, hiding his fear well. Kellan watched as he cast a concerned look at the two gypsy women, and made his decision. He would do for Balthazar what he could not do for himself, he would ensure that the gypsy women were kept out of the fray.

“Perhaps you could head into the woods,” Kellan suggested, “stay out of harm’s way, and, if the City does fall, try and shepherd out as many wards as you can?”

Cosima looked faint with relief and Kellan knew he had made the right call. Only Jonas was unhappy with this decision, his fear for Monique’s safety willing him to stay as close as possible. As the gypsies set off toward the woods, Jonas hung back, his fists bunched at his sides.

“Jonas!”  Balthazar called.

“Go,” Kellan whispered. “She will be all right.”

“You can’t know that,” Jonas replied, but he did as he was told and hastened after the others.

“Kellan!” Channon barrelled her way toward them. “You need to find high ground.” The faeries were only valuable to the extent to which they could use their bows. They would be no use in hand-to-hand combat. Channon scanned the area and pointed at the food storage warehouse. “Can you get up there?”

“Yes, but we should space ourselves out. There’s no telling where the enchantments will break.”

“But the Guardians always appear here,” Channon pointed out. “Surely this is where they will appear?”

“I don’t think it works like that. The Guardians cross through the Gateway, and this spot just happens to be where they enter the City. If the Gateway is breached, the boundary between our two worlds disintegrates.”

“So… where?” Channon swiveled from side to side, her arms wide.

“It could be anywhere.”

Channon cursed. “Okay, get your people in place. Wherever you think is best. Stay high; stay out of sight.”

“What will you do?”

Channon’s body shuddered and again, Kellan saw the yellow burning in her eyes. Only this time it didn’t end there. As she clenched her fists, her fingernails lengthened, growing to sharp points, and the tendons in her hand bulged beneath her skin.

“Channon, what’s happening?” Freya placed a hand on the she-wolf’s arm. Channon took a steadying breath and slowly she returned to normal.

“How are you doing that?” asked Kellan.

“I don’t know,” Channon admitted. “Maybe we’ve always been able to, but we’ve always fought the transition. The only time we have no control over it is during a full moon. I’m trying to control it.”

“You’re trying to bring it out?” Freya murmured. Kellan had thought the exact opposite, but Channon nodded, confirming Freya’s suspicions.

“If I can do it, so can the pack,” she explained. “And if an army of vampires are coming we need to be able to fight.”

Kellan glanced around the crowded courtyard and saw countless yellow eyes gazing at him.

“It looks like it’s working,” he murmured.

“You two will be up on that roof?” Channon asked, and Freya nodded.

“No,” Kellan tried once more. “Freya needs to go back home.” His choked plea fell on deaf ears.

“She’s your best archer,” Channon pointed out and Freya’s lips drew together in satisfaction, as though that settled the matter.

“I won’t stand by and do nothing,” she echoed. “If the vampires get through the Gateway you are going to need all the help you can get.”

“It’s working,” Rafe confirmed when Channon returned to his side. His yellow eyes looked strange in the setting of his human face. Beside him, Rayna hissed in pain as her nails cut through the skin on her fingers.

“Not fast enough,” Channon moaned. If only she could master the transition – bend it to her will – she was sure it would be painless. The wolves fought the change, seeing it as a curse which slowed the process, but perhaps, if they embraced it, it wouldn’t be so painful. If they could shift quickly, and without reservation, she was certain it would be easier. “Kellan and the others are getting into position. Where’s Dominic?” Rayna’s unofficial boyfriend was one of their best fighters.

“He’s around here somewhere,” Rayna replied.

“Go and get him,” Rafe instructed. He was watching Channon carefully. She was visibly pained, her back arching, her features shifting between human beauty and wolfish traits.

“What are you doing?” she hissed through clenched teeth. She wasn’t so far gone that she couldn’t pay attention. “What do you want Dom for?”

“I don’t,” he replied levelly. “I just need some space to concentrate.”

“On what?” she gasped, her control slipping and the human mask falling firmly back into place.

Rafe didn’t answer. It was her pain that had done it. He couldn’t bear seeing her in such agony and he knew that, despite everything, he would do anything to take it from her. Rafe focused his mind on every nerve-ending in his entire body, his bones, flesh and skin, all elements of one single organism, parts of a whole. He felt the heat course through him, opened himself up to it until he thought he would burn up. Only when he was sure he had contained it, did he finally open his mind, setting free the beast that lurked in the recesses of his human psyche.

Channon called Rafe’s name over and over but he could not hear her. She watched, mesmerised, as he buckled over, an inhumane roar of agony bursting from his lips. The sound tore out of him, morphing into a howl and, in one sudden movement, Rafe threw off his human skin and a fully shifted werewolf stood in his place.

Chapter 3

Drake had stayed close to Charlotte when the fighting began. He could feel the excitement emanating from her in waves, but he took a firm hold of her shoulder, pulling her back. Charlotte turned to him, her eyes wide, a rigor-mortis grin of anticipation pulled her lips back, exposing her fangs.

“Fools rush in,” he cautioned, steering her right, through the crush, until they were on the very outskirts of the mob. The sounds of fighting reached them, even from here, and Charlotte wavered, drawing away from him toward the noise.

“Here,” Drake announced and she glanced up to see a massive stained glass window. Without warning, Drake seized hold of a vampire nearest them and threw him bodily toward the glass. The shattering sound reminded him of a night not too long ago when he had smashed through Quinn’s living room window to rescue her from Sebastian. How ironic, he thought, that this time he was here to harm, rather than protect her. Leaping through the vast opening, Drake offered Charlotte his hand.

“Come,” he insisted, hauling her inside the Cathedral. A shadow moved beside them, and Drake recognised Lenora, her eyes wide. Charlotte noticed her too and made a move toward her, but Drake blocked her path.

“Not now,” he growled, “we need to find your traitor. You shouldn’t be here,” he added in an undertone to Lenora as Charlotte shouldered her way through the vampires pouring in through the window after them.

“Neither should you,” Lenora replied softly, but Drake didn’t hear. He had already bolted after Charlotte.

Charlotte picked her way through the chaos, staying out of harm’s way as she searched for the familiar face. Without warning a Guardian appeared in her path; no more than a girl, with blazing red hair pulling free from her braid. Her stakes shone crimson with the blood of the vampires she had slain, and more blood was smeared across her alabaster cheek. Charlotte seemed to shrink, tightening her body like a spring as she prepared to pounce, but then Drake saw him - Isaiah. He bore down on them from the direction where Lenora had been standing only a moment before, his sword raised. Charlotte heard his cry and turned her head just in time, her mouth dropping open as she recognised the Slayer. The Slayer she had thought dead.

In the instant that the sword thundered down toward her, Charlotte felt strong hands seize her waist and Drake threw her aside in the nick of time. Isaiah rounded on him instead, but Drake moved, faster than Charlotte could believe possible. A moment later he was at her side, helping her to her feet and they bolted into the crowd. Sobered, Charlotte began searching in earnest as a trickle of doubt caterpillared down her spine. The Guardians were fighting back and they had the Slayer after all. Suddenly, her easy victory didn’t seem as certain as she had led herself to believe.

Drake scanned the area around him, determined to avoid the Guardians until they found the one they were looking for. He finally spotted Quinn, a few yards away, fighting back to back with another female Guardian. Turning on his heel, he dragged Charlotte in the opposite direction.

“There!” Charlotte cried eventually, and Drake followed the direction of her gaze to where a Guardian stood fighting only a handful of vampires. Standing in the shadow of an enormous monument, Drake recognised Tristan instantly and the shield he had placed around his heart slipped, just a fraction. It seemed he was not the only one who had betrayed Quinn. His anger mounted with every step they took toward the cowardly fool who had lied and used her. The fact that Drake had turned his own back on Quinn meant nothing in comparison to this betrayal. Drake was a vampire, he was supposed to be her enemy. Tristan, however, was a Guardian. He had sworn an oath to protect the City. Drake’s previous dislike for Tristan paled in comparison to the fury he now felt as he gazed upon him.

Charlotte called off the vampires who had been targeting Tristan.

“What is he doing here?” Tristan asked, when they were within earshot, his eyes finding Drake. At that moment a scuffle broke out only feet from where they stood and Tristan stepped back, into the shadows, so that he wouldn’t be seen. Coward, Drake seethed again.

“We don’t have much time!” Charlotte yelled to be heard above the noise. “Now, Tristan!” Forgetting about Drake, Tristan ran toward the altar.

“Take hold of my hand!” he roared, and Charlotte did as she was told. Drake took hold of Tristan’s other wrist, with a vice-like grip. The Guardian looked about to argue but Charlotte’s cry of “Now!” put paid to any delay.

Closing his eyes, Tristan muttered words that Drake couldn’t understand. In the chaos of the moment he felt a heat wash over him, a burning fire that seemed centred on his face. Lifting his gaze he met the icy tanzanite eyes that he knew so well. Quinn’s face contorted in pain and Drake felt a moment of pure regret as Tristan finally stopped speaking. The next second his teeth clanged painfully together and he was knocked to the ground as a shockwave of energy coursed through him. Tristan had opened the Gateway.

Chapter 4

Quinn stood mesmerised, oblivious to the chaos around her and the vampires hurtling in every direction, swarming over the City’s hallowed ground. It was inconceivable that Tristan had been the traitor all along; Tristan, who she had trained, who she had loved and who she had so recently shared a bed with.

She turned on the spot, searching desperately and finally spotted him, leading a small group west. Drake’s tall figure was easy to identify and, where Drake was, Charlotte was sure to be.

Someone stepped into her line of vision and she lifted her stake automatically before recognising Isaiah. He had also seen Tristan and his amber eyes were no longer liquid, but seemed to be made of stone. Quinn cowered before the power in those eyes, an irrational fear creeping over her. He lifted his arm and, for a horrifying moment, Quinn thought he would strike but, as his blade slashed through the air, she became aware of a howling scream as the vampire who was about to sink his fangs into her neck sagged against the hilt of Isaiah’s sword, the blade having run him through.

Quinn stumbled, shock and relief coursing through her. Isaiah grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip, steadying her. Meeting his gaze, Quinn saw through the cold, ruthless eyes of the killer, to the pain and regret beneath.

“It’s a curse,” she murmured, her heart aching for the most compassionate of them all.

“A necessary one,” he replied acceptingly. “Now go, Quinn. You need to stop them. I’ll hold the others off as long as I can.” He shoved her in the direction in which Tristan had headed and turned back into the fray.

Watching Quinn go, Isaiah prayed she would be all right. Slowly the vampires in the courtyard advanced on him. They moved with caution, none too keen to take on the Slayer, but they had the numbers. Bracing himself, Isaiah waited.

The whizz of an arrow distracted him as it flew past where he stood, plunging deep into the chest of a vampire who dropped like a stone to the ground. Bewildered, Isaiah glanced around as more arrows flew from the sky, each finding its target. The circle around him collapsed, line by line, forming a solid crescent of grey ash. The vampires near the back hesitated, clearly not sure about proceeding, while Isaiah searched the area. He finally located the source; a small group of Fae huddled together on the roof of the storage warehouse, but, as more vampires on the opposite side of the courtyard succumbed to the invisible archers, Isaiah picked them out on rooftops all around. His sense of pride was tempered only by the irritation that they would be so careless with their own lives. A moment later the vampires surrounding him moved away, their heads raised and Isaiah’s blood ran cold. They, too, had discovered the source of the shooting.

“Run!” he roared, praying the Fae would heed his warning.

As the arrows rained down from the heavens, the wolf Channon crept alongside the warehouse, following the sounds of battle. Rafe and the other members of the pack followed. Once Rafe had gained control of his changing, Channon had channelled his emotion and extended his ability to the rest of the pack. The change had been painful, but quick; far better than any transition she had experienced before. The wolves had spent an eternity fighting their animal selves and Channon couldn’t help but wonder if that had been the problem all along.

When she reached the courtyard she immediately located Isaiah on the opposite side, engulfed in a mass of vampires. Still more were streaking outward, away from him and toward the town itself. Not wasting any time Channon catapulted forward, taking an almighty swipe at the first vampire that came near her, her claws extended. Rafe and a few other wolves came at him from behind, and together they overpowered him, shredding him to pieces. The wolves were pack animals and fought best as a team. Slowly, they took down one vampire after another, but not without casualties of their own.

The wolves heard Isaiah’s scream and a howl burst from Channon’s lips. She turned her yellow eyes to the roof of the warehouse and saw Kellan and Freya scaling the side, a rope dangling below them. As she watched, two pale faces appeared above them, snatching for the rope and pulling it up as the two Fae tried to scrabble down toward the ground. Kellan yelled and Freya slipped, losing her grip for a second and sliding down the natural fibre drastically before regaining her firm grasp. The vampires heaved upward, pulling them up faster and faster. Channon bolted.

Knowing that they would be pulled to a certain death, Kellan closed his eyes and all but released his hold on the rope. He slammed down into Freya, the two of them plummeting to the ground below. It wasn’t a massive drop, but it was going to hurt. Freya tried desperately to slow them down but as the rope vanished between her fingertips, she gave a shriek of fear. The Fae fell a few metres but their fall was broken by the relatively soft flanks of Channon and Rafe, who had reached them only just in time. Channon let out a yelp of pain as Kellan’s bow gouged into her back, but a moment later she transformed, standing tall and naked before them.

“Are you okay?” she asked desperately. Freya had twisted her ankle, but Kellan had suffered only a few bruises and the two quickly reassured them.

“Rayna!” Channon called, as the pale auburn wolf darted past them, fresh blood on her muzzle. Rayna returned immediately, lowering her head as she waited for Channon’s instruction.

“Get these two back home and stay with them,” Channon instructed. Rayna emitted a low whine, casting a baleful look over her shoulder to where Dominic was still fighting for his life.

“Now,” Channon ordered. “Lock yourselves inside,” she added quickly, addressing the Fae couple. “You’ve done all you can. Now it’s time to get back to your baby.”

Blinking back tears, Freya nodded. The mention of Sage was almost too much for her and she had a crippling desire to see the child’s face, at least once more before this was over. Ignoring the pain in her ankle, Freya hobbled after Rayna, as quickly as she could, while Kellan walked behind them, his bow at the ready.

In the five minute walk back to their home Kellan shot four more vampires. Three had tried to sneak up on them and a fourth had been feeding on a member of the Fae who had obviously been scurrying toward the courtyard to help. As Kellan’s arrow found its mark, the vampire slumped aside, and Freya gave a scream of horror that tore through the town around them. Before he could entreat her to be quiet, Kellan spotted the cause of her despair and he choked back his own roar as his eyes fell upon the pale face of his youngest apprentice. Her soft leather sandals were pointed back toward the courtyard, and a long cape gaped open to display her tiny hands pressed upward, trying to ward off her attacker. Her efforts had been futile against the superior strength of the vampire. Mairin’s throat and chest were soaked with blood, and her gentle, unseeing eyes gazed skyward. Kellan couldn’t process what he was seeing. He had left her tending the Chumana hatchlings. Never would he ever have considered she would leave her post, driven by her fear for Velkan’s safety. As though drawn by Kellan’s thoughts, Velkan appeared a moment later, sprinting toward them, with his father Harlan right behind him. The father and son had been up on one of the other roofs and Kellan felt a wave of relief that they had made it. Mairin’s own father, Micah, brought up the rear and Kellan moved quickly to intercept them, trying to hide the prostate body of Micah’s only child. It was useless. Velkan spied her body first and seemed to falter in mid-stride, his legs ceasing to work and he collapsed onto his knees before her, his face draining of what little colour it had.

“No!” Velkan whispered, softly touching Mairin’s face. He had grown closer to her since they had been working together and Mairin had become like a little sister to him. Velkan was as oblivious of her affections as Monique was of his own.

A second later Micah skidded to a halt beside Velkan, peering over his shoulder with reluctant curiosity.

“Micah, no!” Freya had finally regained control of her senses and she lurched forward, but it was too late. It took a full few seconds for Micah to register what he was seeing. His expression morphed slowly from shock, to denial, to a snarling rage that blistered off him, infecting everyone. Oblivious of the danger he was placing them all in, Micah let out an almighty scream of raw emotion just as Freya had done moments before.

“Micah!” Kellan shouted a warning, too late, as a stream of vampires rounded the bend behind them; a black avalanche of death.

Freya stood rooted to the spot, all thought of seeing her daughter again dashed against the solid wall of vampires advancing on them. Pulling ineffectually at Kellan’s arm, she watched as Micah scooped up Mairin’s tiny frame, cradling her gently against his chest as though he feared he might hurt her. But Mairin was far beyond them now. She had gone where no one could hurt her ever again. Valiantly, Velkan stepped between Micah and the oncoming horde, but Kellan yelled at him to run. Mobilised, the Fae made a run for it, their feet barely touching the ground as they sprinted toward Kellan’s house.

They wouldn’t have made it. They would have had absolutely no hope of outrunning the vampires if Daniel and Blair hadn’t stepped between them and the monsters who were chasing them, buying them the time they needed to race through the front door that Anaise was holding wide open; Micah still holding his precious burden.

Chapter 5

“Monique!” Jonas yelled, thundering down the cobbled street. He could see her battling a vampire at least twice her size and, without thinking, he raced forward to help her. Balthazar had done as Kellan had asked and had made his way toward the Lunar Grove, but, once in the cover of the trees, Jonas had stolen away, unable to bear the thought of not knowing what would become of Monique. Jonas had no idea where his father was now, but finally finding Monique had distracted him. As he reached the duelling pair, Monique’s body suddenly arched backward and her eyes glassed over as an eerie, inhuman cry burst from her lips. The vampire was as surprised as Jonas but he recovered quickly, stepping toward her as he prepared to sink his fangs into her neck. Monique seemed to have no idea what was happening around her; she appeared to be in a trance-like state that terrified Jonas.

Infuriated, Jonas leapt onto the vampire’s back, wrapping his arms around the larger man’s throat and clinging on for his life. To the vampire, Jonas was nothing more than an irksome fly and he grabbed the boy’s forearms, crunching bone between his fingers. Jonas howled in agony, but still he hung on, knowing that the second he let go, he was as good as dead. As the vampire increased pressure, Jonas struggled to keep hold of his consciousness. He couldn’t afford to black out.

“Jump!” a familiar voice yelled, loud enough to penetrate his hazy mind. Jonas did as he was told, pushing back off the vampire’s back and landing painfully on the ground, as a silver stake erupted through the place he had just vacated. Monique, looking perfectly normal once more, pulled the stake out and rushed to Jonas’s side.

“Are you okay?” she asked. Jonas nodded, unable to speak. “We have to get you out of here,” she looked around, trying to find a safe way out. The courtyard was not as crowded as it had been moments ago, many of the vampires had already begun to spread through the City.

Monique was torn. She could not explain what had happened but she had been given a message in the moments before she had spotted Jonas hanging from the vampire’s back. She had to go; but she didn’t want to leave him.

“Behind you!” Jonas yelled suddenly, as a shadow fell across them. Before she could even raise her stake to defend herself from the new threat, a second vampire appeared out of nowhere, sinking her fangs into their attacker’s neck. As his dismembered head landed beside her, Monique gazed up at Lenora’s bloodstained face.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lenora yelled. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a war going on… it’s hardly the time to be sitting around!”

“You have to help me,” Monique scrambled to her feet, pulling another stake from her coat pocket and thrusting it into Lenora’s hand. “I need you to protect him,” she indicated where Jonas was groaning as he rolled from side to side on the floor. “There’s something I need to do. It’s important.” Spoken with the air of someone much, much older, Lenora couldn’t miss the gravity in Monique’s statement.

“Fine,” she agreed reluctantly. “Just go!”

Monique cast one last look at Jonas and then darted forward; the enormous summit of Dragon’s Peak looming ahead.

Isaiah had stayed behind, in the courtyard, holding the vampires at bay so that Daniel could get through to assist the Fae who were fleeing to safety. Catching sight of Monique’s red hair, and despatching five vampires in as many seconds, he moved to intercept her.

“I know where it is!” she yelled as she drew nearer. “I know where the Hawkstone is hidden!”

In those moments she had been unresponsive Monique had been granted a vision, one that showed her the precise location of the stone. Monique knew she hadn’t been imagining it. The location of the Hawkstone was so unbelievable it could only be true. At her words, Isaiah felt hope flare in his chest.

“Braddon!” he called the only other Guardian he could see. The others had scattered, fighting battles of their own. Braddon reached him in seconds. “Monique knows where the Hawkstone is,” Isaiah explained quickly. “You need to make sure she gets to it. Go!” He stepped aside as they streaked past him, determined to prevent any vampires from following. His duty was to make sure that every one of them fulfilled their own.

Monique ran for her life, faster than she ever had before. Braddon stayed on her heels, his keen eye scouring their surrounds for any danger. As they neared the base of the mountains, Monique let out a high piercing whistle, just as another group of vampires burst from the trees to their left.

“Keep going!” Braddon yelled, turning to face the oncoming horde. “Nothing is more important than finding that stone!”

Monique faltered, knowing that there were too many for him to face alone but then she heard the heavy flapping above her and she raced on. The Orochian plummeted down to the ground, directly overhead, landing above her so that Monique was protected beneath its powerful legs. She climbed onto its broad back, tucking her legs into the dragon’s neck.

Braddon watched the group of vampires approaching with a determined acceptance of his fate. He would die, of that there was no doubt, but he would take as many of these evil creatures with him as he could. Risking a glance behind him, he felt immense relief that Monique was astride the ugly brute. She, at least, would be okay for now. Pulling the bottles of Cliffdale water from his pockets, he removed the stoppers and braced himself.

The vampires were only a few yards away when he heard the roaring hiss. Wonderstruck, Braddon watched as the Orochian swooped so low to the ground that its massive claws gouged trenches in the grass below. Fire erupted from its open mouth, engulfing the vampires, most of whom burst into flames. The heat seared Braddon’s face, but a moment later the flapping of the Orochian’s powerful wings sent a gust of wind that blew his hair back.

“Get on!” Monique yelled, trying to be heard over the screaming of the dying vampires.

The second he pulled himself up behind her, the dragon soared, climbing so quickly that Braddon lost his breath. He didn’t question their destination as they swooped toward Dragon’s Peak; trusting Monique to guide them. He had no idea how she was steering but the Orochian seemed to know exactly where she wanted him to take them. As they came to hover over the very tip of the mountain, Braddon realised why only Monique could retrieve the stone. No person could reach this place. It was impossible to climb the sheer cliff to this point. You could only reach it from above, and only a dragon rider would have any chance of doing so successfully.

The Orochian was struggling to stay in one place, flapping his wings frantically against the drafts, as they veered left and right. Peering over the side of the beast’s shoulder, Braddon caught a glimpse of red nestled in a small crater and he pointed down to it. Nodding that she had seen it, Monique urged the Orochian lower, so that they were only inches from where the Hawkstone lay.

“Lower me down,” Monique yelled, the wind whipping the words from her mouth as she released her grip on the dragon’s neck.

“Let me do it!”

“No,” Monique was resolute. “It’s supposed to be me.”

“The child will retrieve the stone” he murmured. Pushing aside his paternal concern, he took hold of her legs, his muscles straining as she slid down the dragon’s flank, until she was suspended upside down, in mid-air, hundreds of yards above the ground.

Monique slowly stretched out her hand, her fingertips brushing the smooth red stone, but before she could grab hold of it, the Orochian lurched to the left and she swung out over the peak. Stifling a scream, she closed her eyes, the sight of the ground so far below her making her head swim. Braddon grunted as he tried to pull her back up, and Monique realised she would only have one chance. As she swung back over the peak she reached out and her hand closed over the Hawkstone, just as Braddon lost his grip on her left leg.

Chapter 6

Quinn had finally caught up with Tristan’s group near Lunar Grove, although she had no idea where they were heading.

“Tristan!” she called, the sound echoing through the trees. The entire group swivelled to face her but Quinn kept her eyes focused on him alone. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Drake. “How could you?” The disgust in her voice was plain to everyone. “Listen to them! Listen to what you’ve done!” The sound of squealing as the unicorns fell prey to the vampires cut her to the core. Tristan, however, looked unaffected.

“You are brave Guardian, I’ll give you that…”

It took Quinn a moment to realise that it was Charlotte who had spoken. Her voice was sweet and melodious, sounding more human than she could have imagined. She was also incredibly young; she couldn’t have been more than seventeen when she was turned. “… to come out here alone,” Charlotte continued.

“She’s not alone,” a deep voice contradicted and Daniel emerged from the trees, along with Blair. Quinn noticed with smug satisfaction that Tristan was suddenly looking a lot less confident.

“I know you,” Charlotte frowned, staring at Daniel as she tried to place him. Drake recognised him straight away as the Guardian who had killed her and he felt a black hatred rise in his chest. This was the man who had taken everything from him. Daniel, too, faltered, as he reconciled the evil beauty of the vampire before him with the human girl who had haunted his dreams for centuries. Blair showed no such compunction. She had always been reckless, hot-headed and fearless and she charged at Charlotte, her stake raised high.

Drake moved like a cobra, meeting Blair head-on. Seizing her stake hand, he twisted it savagely before plunging the silver stake into her own chest. Blair’s entire body convulsed, and for a few seconds there was absolute silence as the remaining Guardians tried to comprehend what had just happened. Quinn’s shocked outcry was cut short as a white hot pain seared through her and her knees collapsed beneath her. The pain was raw, and real, and oddly familiar. Then she heard Daniel’s cry of rage and it flamed her own craving for vengeance. Together they charged, united in their grief and fuelled by blind hatred.

Drake watched as Quinn fought like a woman possessed. She tore through the vampires who had stepped between them, but it was his blood she was after and her eyes barely left his face. His hands shook as it dawned on him what he had just done. He had managed to travel through the City without harming a single Guardian, but seeing Daniel had brought back memories of Charlotte’s death, and when her life had been threatened he had reacted instinctively. Now, a Guardian lay dead at his feet and he was filled with remorse, so painful it threatened to consume him.

Quinn battled one opponent after the next until finally she turned and came face to face with Drake. She did not waste any time thinking it through. In one swift motion she pulled her stake free of her last victim and thrust it toward him, aiming for his heart, without hesitation. A few days ago she would have died to protect him, but the consequences of his actions tonight were too great.

Drake dodged the lethal point, turning so that his shoulder took the brunt of the blow. The stake pierced his flesh and pain scorched through his entire body, as hot as the fires of hell.

“Quinn,” he grunted, using his other arm to knock her stake aside as she thrust forward again. “Stop it!”

Charlotte had had enough. She made a move toward Quinn, intending to snap her neck, but, before she could reach her, Drake stepped between them.

“No!”

Shocked, Charlotte hissed, her fangs fully extended. “Get out of my way.”

“You will not harm her. No more Guardians will die tonight.” It was as though he was seeing her clearly again, after all this time. Still reeling from what he had done to Blair, Drake felt as though a veil had been lifted, exposing Charlotte for who she really was. He had been taken in by her, again, despite everything. He was weaker than he had ever believed possible, but he would fight it. He could never make it up to Quinn, but he would not let Charlotte harm her.

Quinn located her stake and got to her feet, unsure of how to proceed. Daniel despatched the vampire he was fighting and looked around for his next quarry but they were no longer paying any attention to him. Nobody moved, all eyes on the stand-off between Drake and Charlotte.

“What are you doing?” Charlotte snarled. It was Tristan who provided the answer. With everything that had happened, Quinn had almost forgotten he was there.

“They’ve been working together,” he sneered hatefully. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“And yet you didn’t tell anyone,” Quinn pointed out.

“I was trying to seduce you,” he taunted. “I figured turning you in might hurt my chances... although you rolled over a whole lot easier than I ever expected.”

Quinn felt an ugly hot flush rise in her cheeks. Charlotte, who had finally recovered from her shock, turned on Drake.

“You... You’ve been working with a Guardian?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Drake drawled. “You’ve been doing exactly the same thing. Although,” he added insolently, “at least I aligned myself with a Guardian worth fighting for.”

Registering the barb, Tristan stepped forward.

“I wouldn’t,” Drake warned menacingly. Turning to Quinn, he whispered, so softly that she had to strain to hear him, “I’m sorry.”

Pushing her aside, he ran at Charlotte. They collided with the force of two bull elephants, fighting to the death and moving so fast that Quinn could not keep track. The spell that had frozen the other vampires broke and they attacked with renewed vigour. Quinn and Daniel fought back just as fiercely, but Quinn was stronger and more deadly than ever before, and slowly, they laid waste to their opponents.

Drake and Charlotte were still engaged in combat, their snarls of rage giving no indication as to who was winning. Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn saw Tristan lingering on the edge of the group and she started to move toward him, using his distraction to her advantage. She was almost upon him when she heard it; the sound of a stampede, and hundreds of vampires emerged from the woods, racing toward them.

Daniel saw them too and he issued a cry of warning, impossible for Drake and Charlotte to miss. Drake was hurt, though he was faring far better than Charlotte, but the sight of so many vampires coming to her aid left only one logical solution. He slapped Charlotte hard across the cheek with his right hand, while plunging his left into her pocket. A second later he grabbed Quinn’s elbow.

“Time to go!”

“No!” she screamed, realising what he was about to do. “We can’t leave Daniel!” But it was too late – Drake had already swept her up in his arms. To her relief, he stayed still, looking toward the heavens. “No!” Quinn yelled again, pummelling his chest. Her cries seemed to be amplified, echoing around them, and then she realised that it wasn’t her screaming. Hurtling out of the sky above them soared an Orochian dragon, its mouth opening.

Quinn saw the flames erupt from its throat and she shielded her face, expecting to be incinerated; only the pain didn’t come. Instead, the advancing army took the brunt of it, many burnt to a crisp and the rest scattering in different directions. Quinn watched over Drake’s shoulder as Tristan hauled at Charlotte’s arm, pulling her away to safety. The other vampires followed as the giant beast circled back again.

“Run!” Drake roared, and Daniel cast one last longing look at the departing horde before heeding the warning and sprinting in the opposite direction.

Drake forced himself to run alongside Daniel, at a normal pace.

“Friends of yours?” he asked, and Quinn followed the line of his gaze to see the Orochian flying parallel on their other side, with Monique and Braddon on its back.

“Put me down,” she hissed, in response. Drake obliged, but he stayed with them.

Reaching the courtyard, they found Isaiah standing amid ash and bodies. He turned as they approached, but relaxed when he recognised them. Nearby, Lenora was crouched beside Jonas and Monique slid from the Orochian’s back, hurrying over to them. The dragon stood perfectly still, the tips of his enormous wings sweeping the stone floor. Quinn was relieved to see Channon, Rafe and four other wolves on the other side of the courtyard, surrounded by shaggy corpses. The wolves were in a bad way, their coats wet with blood, most of it their own. Rafe was whimpering, the high-pitched sound even more desolate than a human cry, and Quinn felt her heart crash to a halt in her chest as she spotted the lifeless form of a pale auburn wolf at his feet. She forced herself not to approach them. There would be time to grieve for Rayna later. From the look of it, most of the pack had been eradicated.

“Where is everyone?” Quinn asked. In answer, Piper, Liam and Garrett emerged from a nearby alleyway.

“Lucas is dead,” Garrett announced immediately. Piper’s tear-streaked face crumpled.

“Where’s Blair?” Liam asked, scanning the faces. Before Daniel could answer, Liam’s eyes found Drake and he yanked his stake from his belt.

“No,” Quinn stepped between them.

“Blair didn’t make it,” Daniel intoned hollowly. He was eyeing Quinn curiously and she held her breath, waiting for him to implicate Drake, but he said nothing more.

“Tristan?” Piper asked, suddenly realising he was unaccounted for.

“Tristan betrayed us,” Quinn replied. “He is the one who brought them through the Gateway.” She had known there was a traitor in their midst for some time, but the other Guardians’ reaction to this announcement reminded her just how impossible it seemed. The fact that it was Tristan was even more incomprehensible. They wavered between disbelief and disgust.

“What do we do, Isaiah?” Quinn asked desperately.

“Monique?” he called her over. “Did you get it?”

Monique opened her palm, revealing the blood-red stone.

“Is that...?” Piper let the question hang.

“The Hawkstone,” Isaiah confirmed, placing a hand on Monique’s shoulder. “You did it!”

“Can we open the portal?” Daniel clutched at this new shred of hope but Isaiah shook his head.

“We need all twelve crystals.”

“Quinn,” Drake murmured low in her ear. She felt his hand brush hers and was about to pull away when he pressed something hard into her palm. The amber crystal felt oddly unfamiliar in her grasp. “I took it off her just before we fled. This one too,” he deposited Avery’s aquamarine into her other hand. “I should never have taken them; I’m sorry.”

Everyone had turned to watch, their eyes wide at the sight of the two stones which might have been lost forever.

“The Rose Gate,” Daniel got back to the point. “We need to open it. It’s the only safeguard now that the City is lost. Wintyr’s magic is the only hope we have.”

“We do not have Lucas’s crystal,” Isaiah reminded, “or Blair’s. Only the Guardians who replace them will know where they are.”

“I know where Blair’s crystal is.” Quinn finally admitted. Stepping into their midst she held out her arm, exposing her tattoo. The white ink had been burned black.

Chapter 7

Time seemed to stand still as, one by one, the others laid eyes on the black ink that marked Quinn as a Hunter. She had replaced Blair, which meant that somewhere out there someone else had just been marked as her replacement. Drake, most affected by the sight of her wrist, kept his emotions strictly in check.

It was Daniel who broke the silence. “I wondered how you got so good,” he mused, recalling how intensely she had fought after Blair’s death. It had happened the moment Blair had died; the white-hot pain forcing Quinn to her knees, but, with the Hunter’s mark, came a Hunter’s instinct, as well as the superior strength Hunters were endowed with.

“You need to leave,” Quinn said, turning to Drake. She couldn’t be around him now, not after he had killed Blair. Surprisingly, she was not driven to harm him by her new and untamed Hunter’s instinct, but more out of rage for his actions.  Drake didn’t move, reeling from the revelation that he had done this – he had taken the life of a Hunter and Eldon’s magic had dictated that a new Hunter would take her place.

“Not you,” he whispered. He would spend an eternity trying to earn her forgiveness for what he had done to Blair, but this was one obstacle they could never overcome. He had turned her into this, just as he had turned Charlotte into a monster. It was a curse; it had to be; that every time he cared for a woman he brought her nothing but pain and misery.

Oblivious to Drake’s despair, Daniel continued, “We need to save as many of the wards as we can and get them away from here until we can retrieve the stones.”

“Even if we find Blair’s crystal... Lucas’s too, for that matter... there’s no way we’ll get our hands on Tristan’s,” Liam pointed out.

“We’ll get it,” Quinn murmured, “even if I have to rip it from his dead fingertips. But you’re right – for now, our main priority is finding the wards that are still alive and getting them as far from here as we can. The sun will be up soon, if we can keep them safe just a little longer, we may have a chance to escape.”

“Don’t bother searching for wolves,” Channon interjected, speaking for the first time. Quinn hadn’t even noticed her approaching; but she stood right beside them, in human form, naked and bloodstained. “We are all that remains of the pack,” Channon hissed through gritted teeth and Liam quickly shrugged out of his black coat and draped it over her shivering body. Quinn clapped a hand over her mouth. Six. Only six wolves remained out of a pack that had numbered over thirty.

“The Fae?” Quinn turned to Piper.

“I... I don’t know.”

“We can’t stay here,” Liam pressed. “The City is overrun with vampires. It is only a matter of time before they find us. We should search for survivors and make a run for it.”

“I saw a large group of vampires heading toward the Unicorn Glade,” Garrett said.

“We saw them too,” Daniel said, “I don’t know if any of the herd survived.”

“We need to split up,” Quinn instructed, trying not to think of the squealing sounds she had heard earlier. They couldn’t leave without checking if any of the herd had survived. “Liam, you and Garrett take the others and go to Kellan’s house, he may still be there. We’ll go to the glade,” she nodded at Daniel. “There’s no point coming back here, so we’ll meet in the woods outside of Cliffdale’s borders, where the gypsies were camped,” she added, and Monique, who knew the way well, nodded.

“My dad…” Jonas managed, his voice breaking. “He went to try and help the unicorns…”

“If he’s out there, we’ll find him,” Quinn reassured him. It was evident that Jonas was in considerable pain, and she didn’t want to tell him that the chances that Balthazar and the others had survived this night were slim. “Channon,” she continued, “you can’t do any more here and we cannot risk losing any more members of your pack.”

Reluctantly, Channon agreed. “We’ll head straight for the clearing,” she promised, “we’ll wait for you there.” The werewolves’ heightened sense of smell would lead them to the gypsy clearing without a guide.

As the others began to move in the direction of Kellan’s house, Quinn turned back to Daniel and Braddon. “Let’s go.”

“I’m coming with you,” Isaiah said, and Lenora stepped in line beside him. The sight of her was too much for Quinn who had purposely omitted Drake and Lenora from her plan.

“I’m sorry, Lenora, you need to leave... with him,” she inclined her head at Drake, who had not spoken a word since his whispered denial. Lenora, however, was made of sterner stuff.

“You need all the help you can get. I’m not leaving!”

“Neither am I.” Drake finally broke his silence.

“I cannot be around you,” Quinn’s message was clear, but Lenora wouldn’t be swayed. “Well then we’ll stay out of your way,” she snapped, steering Drake toward Liam and Garrett’s group. Isaiah watched her go with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Drake didn’t argue, but he and Lenora kept to the back of the small group, keeping their distance from the Guardians. Jonas shuffled along beside them, clutching his arms to his chest. He had waved away Monique’s offer of help, knowing that he would only hinder her if they encountered any vampires. It turned out to be a good call, as, not five minutes from Kellan and Freya’s house, a group ambushed them. Between the three of them, Liam, Garrett and Monique took care of the threat, so that Piper barely needed to do anything. Drake joined the fray, single-handedly killing as many vampires as the Guardians combined, while Lenora stood guard over Jonas.

They found only two vampires outside Kellan and Freya’s house. Judging by the look of them they had been tasked with standing guard over the Fae who had taken refuge inside the dwelling. Obviously the vampires couldn’t get in, which was a relief. If the Fae had barricaded themselves inside their homes, as the Guardians had instructed, many might have survived after all.

“Stay here,” Liam instructed Drake and Lenora, once he had despatched the two vampire watchmen. “You, too,” he added, speaking far more kindly to Monique. She shrugged, but as the other Guardians entered the house, to a relieved cry from the Fae inside, Monique walked toward the side of the house.

“Where are you going?” Jonas whispered.

“The shed.” Without any further explanation she picked her way across the neat lawn and rounded the corner, disappearing from view. Drake couldn’t allow the young girl to go alone, so he stayed Jonas with a single stern look and then followed her around the back of the house to the shed, leaving Lenora to remain with the boy.

Drake heard the scratching before Monique opened the door and he listened intently, trying to figure out what was behind it.

“Wait here,” Monique cautioned, slipping through the crack. The tiny hisses and clicks could only be one thing, and, a moment later, Monique was back, clutching a large wooden crate. Drake peered through the planks in wonder at the eight baby dragons.

‘I can’t leave them,” Monique set her jaw stubbornly.

“I wasn’t going to suggest it.”

By the time they returned, Liam and Garrett were emerging from the house. The small group watched with mixed emotions as Kellan and Freya, carrying baby Sage, followed them. Monique heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of Velkan, who stepped out next, followed by his parents, Anaise and Harlan. Her relief was short-lived, as Isadora emerged, sobbing piteously, supported by her husband Micah, whose face was wet with his own tears. Knowing Mairin’s parents, Monique knew there was only one thing that would cause them such grief. Turning, wide-eyed, to Velkan, he confirmed her fears.

“Mairin didn’t make it.”

“We can’t leave her here,” Isadora howled, clutching at her husband’s shirt. Micah steeled himself, trying to be strong, for her sake.

“We cannot take her with us,” he murmured gently. “How would we? She’s safe now; she’s gone where they can’t hurt her anymore. All that remains is an empty shell.”

“I will bury her, Micah!” Isadora gasped. “We cannot leave her here, with them.”

It was the first time Monique had ever heard a member of the Fae sound hateful. She hadn’t believed them possible of such a toxic emotion.

“I can take her,” she offered. It took a moment for Isadora to register who had spoken, but when she laid eyes on Monique the young Guardian nodded solemnly. Addressing Micah directly, she watched as his eyes crumpled, his façade so fragile she didn’t think he would hold out much longer. “If you can carry her as far as the fountain, I can take her from there.”

Their progress was much slower now that they had eight faeries travelling with them, and twice more they came across groups of wandering vampires. It was soon evident which of the homes in Summerfeld sheltered survivors – outside of each were two vampire guards, stationed to keep an eye on those who had become prisoners in their homes.

They found another eight survivors, including a very old Fae woman named Evangeline, who was calmly whittling arrowheads when they arrived. A remarkably well-crafted bow rested against the armchair where she sat.

“Evangeline?’ Kellan murmured softly as he approached. “It’s time to go.”

Without missing a beat, she slotted the arrow into her quiver and shouldered her bow.

“What was she doing?” Lenora gave Freya an arch look as they watched through the open doorway.

“Evangeline was once the greatest archer of us all,” Freya smiled. “She’s a fighter, too. I guess she figured she’d take out as many vampires as she could in the time she had left.”

Watching the frail old woman shuffling down the steps, her long braided hair pure white with age, Lenora gave an indiscreet chuckle. Quick as a flash, Evangeline rounded on her, and Lenora’s laughter died in her throat. The older woman’s eyes were as white as her hair, but they stared directly at Lenora.

“She’s blind?” Lenora gasped, when Evangeline had moved on, aided by Kellan.

“She sees things that others can’t,” Freya replied, which wasn’t an answer, either way.

“There are no more,” Liam spoke softly. “It’s time to go.”

Drake didn’t want to leave without Quinn, but Lenora insisted.

“You want them to trust you, you do as they say,” she whispered, as they followed the others out of the City. “Quinn doesn’t want you around right now, understandably,” she added, throwing him a look that clearly said, ‘I told you so.’

Heaving a sigh, knowing she would have a lot more to say later, he forced himself to keep moving.

The Orochian dragon was waiting near the fountain when they returned and Monique walked straight toward it.

“Put her here,” Monique spoke softly to Micah, and, with Kellan’s help, he draped Mairin’s pale form across the dragon’s shoulders. The Orochian stayed perfectly still, as though it sensed the value of the precious burden it now carried.

“Monique!” Kellan warned, as she tried to hoist the heavy crate up onto its back. The Orochians had destroyed the last of the adult Chumana dragons and here Monique was loading the hatchlings onto an Orochian’s back. To his surprise, the Orochian merely snorted, twisting its neck around and sniffing the crate. He flattened his ears against his head and gave an unearthly screech, but Monique didn’t seem concerned, smacking him hard on the nose as she would an unruly dog.

“No!” she snapped, clambering onto his back. Velkan gazed up at her with adoring admiration, and even Kellan smiled.

“It seems the rumours are true,” he whispered. “The dragons really will do a rider’s bidding, no matter what it is.”

Kellan had known Alain, the original dragon rider. He had been able to tame the beasts too, but he had never attempted anything like this.

“Jonas, get on,” Monique called down, but Jonas shook his head. His arms were in agony and there was no way he would be able to hold on.

“I’ll take care of him,” Lenora offered, sensing Monique was torn. Mindful of Isadora’s quiet sobs, they all stepped back as the Orochian beat its enormous wings and took off into the night.

“Time to go,” Liam instructed, and he led the weary party up and out of Cliffdale.

Deep inside Summerfeld, Quinn’s group proceeded with caution as they continued their search for the unicorns. Having Isaiah and Daniel with her comforted Quinn, but ironically, it was her father’s solid presence beside her that calmed her the most, as they moved like shadows through the dark. Quinn could sense the vampires even though they were nowhere near her, and she marvelled at her new hunting instinct, sending it out into the night around her and stretching her ability. She was already getting a feel for it and how best to use it. They walked for some time, encountering no threat. The woods were ominously silent with no sign of any life but still they pressed on. Nobody wanted to admit that they were wasting their time. If it was at all possible that even one unicorn remained, it was their duty to find it.

A screech broke the dead calm and Quinn turned to see the mighty Orochian rise up into the air and head east. They had covered a lot of ground and she could barely discern Monique astride the dragon’s back, but it looked as though there was something or someone else with her.

“They’re leaving,” Braddon murmured.

“At least they made it,” Daniel’s relief was obvious.

“The sun will be up soon,” Quinn observed. “Do you think the vampires will leave? Maybe we could take back the City...?”

“There isn’t any point,” Daniel interrupted. “Summerfeld no longer exists. It is now simply an extension of the human town of New Haven. It’s best to get as far away as we can.”

“And then what?”

“Then we prepare for the worst. Without the enchantments to conceal the wards, they’re vulnerable. We won’t be able to hide forever. The vampires will hunt us down in man’s realm as they did centuries ago, before the City was ever created. This war is only just beginning.”

“The Blood War was never really over,” Isaiah added. “Eldon simply put it on hold. Now we will have to finish it, one way or another.” He didn’t add that, without the Fae magic, it would hardly be a war – it would be a slaughter. At the defeated look on the others’ faces, Daniel spoke determinedly.

“We will open the Rose Gate and release Wintyr from the temple,” he vowed. “Only Eldon’s heir and the magic of the Fae can restore the City. But until then, we have to protect the survivors.” There was no doubt that the tragic events of this night would never be reversed. Species would be lost, and the ten would cease to exist, but they could save the wolves and the Fae. With any luck, the Dragons and the merfolk would survive on their own.

“Shhh,” Braddon waved his arm, silencing them. “Do you hear that?” Quinn strained her ears and heard it, too. Her heart soared as the sound of galloping hooves reached them, soft at first, but growing in volume with every passing second. As one, they rushed to intercept the sound.

The unicorns were almost upon them when Isaiah let out a melodious whistle. Primera burst from the trees, rearing up on his hind legs and almost crushing Quinn on his way down. Zinnia was with him, and, to Quinn’s delight, so was Dessa, Primera’s previous mate. Most astonishing, however, was the sight of Balthazar and Rowena and Cosima astride three of the four mares in tow.

“They’re coming!” Balthazar gave a cry of warning and Quinn’s stomach turned as she sensed the vampires closing in on them. Knowing he would not tolerate a male rider, Quinn vaulted onto Primera’s back. Daniel mounted Zinnia and Isaiah, Dessa. Sheehan almost bucked Braddon off as he clambered clumsily onto her back, and Quinn recalled that her father had never been particularly prone to riding as had the other Guardians.

The vampires had slain most of the herd and Primera would not wait a moment longer. Rearing up again, with Quinn clinging to his mane, he ricocheted forward and the six mares thundered after him. Not a moment too soon, Quinn thought, as she felt rather than heard the pursuit of the vampires moving through the woods toward them.

Bypassing the courtyard, the Guardians guided their mounts to the far right of the Cathedral as they galloped flat out up the long hill which led out of the valley. Quinn glanced back at the chaos that had previously been the City of Summerfeld. The devastating damage to the Cathedral became harder to discern, the further away they travelled. It was situated in the very centre of the cornflower field and the City itself stretched beyond. With a heavy heart, Quinn’s eyes trailed from the Lunar woods on one side of the City, to the mountains that rose up in the east - a formidable backdrop to the town nestled in the centre. For a thousand years this place had served as a sanctuary to the last remaining survivors of the mystical realm. They had failed. The Guardians had failed.

The army of vampires followed them for only a few moments, falling back as the impending dawn finally called a halt to their night of terror and Quinn faced forward once more, toward an uncertain future.

Chapter 8

By the time they reached the clearing the unicorns were exhausted. Their flanks heaved and froth covered their mouths and their eyes rolled wildly in sheer terror.

At the sight of the others, safe, and gloriously alive, Quinn felt her knees go weak; although their pitiful number reminded her, once again, just how much they had lost during the terrifying course of the previous evening. Braddon slid to the ground before Sheehan had even slowed to a walk, thrilled to be back on solid ground. Daniel hastened over to Liam for a report on what had happened, but Quinn noticed Isaiah hesitate, his eyes searching the group. Two people were conspicuous by their absence.

“Where are Drake and Lenora?” Isaiah murmured, confirming Quinn’s suspicions. She knew he was most concerned for Lenora, but was trying desperately to hide it.

“They left shortly after we arrived.” It was Liam who answered. “The sun was rising.”

Kellan and Velkan immediately led the small herd to the stream, comforting them in low voices. The Orochian, soothed by Monique’s presence, barely lifted his great head as they passed. Assessing the faeries huddled together in the centre of the clearing, Quinn was surprised to see Evangeline had made it out. The Fae woman had always been reclusive, but now she stood tall and proud, her bow at the ready, watching over the other women. The wolves had formed a protective circle around them, in various states of undress. The Fae had offered up what little clothing they could to protect their modesty, but it wasn’t necessary. Dark stains of blood and dirt cloaked them, like a second skin. It took Quinn a moment to locate the source of the soft weeping emanating from the huddled group at their feet, but the second she took in Isadora’s creased, woe-begone face, and the still form on the ground beside her, she knew what had happened.

Placing one foot in front of the other, Quinn stepped forward until she was gazing down at the body. Too many Fae had lost their lives tonight, but the sight of Mairin, a beautiful young faery who epitomised the very best of them, filled Quinn with a hopelessness that threatened to overwhelm her. Biting back a cry of rage, she quickly backed away, wishing she could eradicate the sight from her mind but it was burned into her memory.

Casting a helpless glance around, she spotted Rowena stooped over Jonas, who was moaning softly, his face white as a sheet but covered in sweat. Rowena’s maternal concern brought something else to the forefront of Quinn’s mind. She had deliberately not thought of Jack and Ava since the fighting began, but now that the wards were safe, at least temporarily, her fear for the twins’ safety swooped over her. Isaiah was washing the Slayer sword in the stream as she approached.

“Isaiah,” her voice trembled, “Camille and the twins...”

“I will send word to let them know what has happened,” he soothed. “They will know not to return.”

“Tristan is the traitor. Jack and Ava aren’t safe. He’ll find them.”

“Only I know where they are,” Isaiah reminded her. “Tristan will not find them, trust me. Besides, despite what he has done, Jack and Ava are his children. I doubt Tristan will want them anywhere near the vampires.”

“We have no idea what Tristan is capable of,” Quinn spat. Now that she had had time to think she was overcome with embarrassment and furious that she hadn’t realised what was going on. Of all the Guardians she had been closest to Tristan and yet she hadn’t considered that he might be the traitor. She hadn’t wanted to believe it. Maybe if she had, if she had just paid closer attention, she might have been able to stop him.

“Quinn,” Isaiah placed a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have known.”

She opened her mouth to protest, and then shut it again, tears of humiliation pricking at her eyes. Only now that they were out of immediate danger was the gravity of what Tristan had done becoming real.

“Why?” she whispered desolately. “Why would he do this?”

“That is something we may never know,” Isaiah replied. “It is possible that Avery’s death unhinged him, or perhaps he was never as committed to Summerfeld as we believed him to be.”

“Or maybe he was always rotten to the core,” Quinn’s anger was building, and her body trembled as she recalled how sweetly he had seduced her. “I believed him,” she shook her head in disgust. “I believed that he cared for me... that he loved me, when all he wanted was my crystal. Mine and Avery’s.”

Isaiah didn’t question how she knew this and Quinn was grateful for that fact. Tristan had only really started courting her in earnest when he learned that she had discovered the location of Avery’s crystal. He had also shown up in Brookfield when she went to hide the crystals, on the pretext of missing her. No doubt he had hoped to persuade her to tell him where she had hidden them, or, even better, to catch her in the act. Wordlessly she withdrew the crystals from her pocket, shuddering at how close she had come to losing them.

“You’re sure Jack and Ava will be all right?” she asked, not looking up.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Quinn exhaled a deep breath and tried to collect her thoughts.

“Camille is going to go crazy when she hears what’s happened. You know how she gets where Monique is concerned.”

“Monique can call her as soon as we get to someplace safe.”

The sun protected them for now, but it wouldn’t be long before they were all being hunted again.

Trying to think of somewhere they could go, Quinn watched absentmindedly as the unicorns lowered their heads to drink, when a terrible thought occurred to her.

“The fountain...” she gasped. The water out here in the human world would satisfy their thirst, but, without the fountain of youth, the wards would eventually lose their immortality.

“We will return when the Rose Temple is opened,” Isaiah eased her fears. “When Wintyr resurrects the enchantments and restores the City, he will make sure of it.” They fell silent as Piper approached, her clothing torn and bloody. Piper had fought well tonight, but she bore the scars of the violence far more deeply than the others.

“We can’t stay here,” she murmured, “we’re too close.” Quinn gazed around the clearing, wondering where on earth they would be safe. They were down to eight Guardians. Even with the help of their new gypsy friends, sixteen faeries, six wolves, seven unicorns, eight Chumana hatchlings and a fully grown Orochian dragon were going to be hard to hide.

“Balthazar,” she turned to where the gypsy knelt beside Rowena. Rowena was bandaging Jonas’s arms with a heavy strip of fabric torn from her skirt. Satisfied that Jonas would be okay, Balthazar got to his feet and came to stand before them. He was hesitant, still unsure of his reception.

“Do you know of any place we might be able to hide?” Quinn asked.

“So now you are prepared to accept my help?” he replied wryly.

“You saved them,” Quinn gestured at the small herd, which, having quenched their thirst, were shaking their heads in distress. “If it wasn’t for you they wouldn’t be here. That’s good enough for me.” She swallowed her pride and held out her right hand. Balthazar hesitated only a moment before grasping it firmly in his own.

“We are here to help,” he stressed, “but I’m sorry, I do not know of such a place.”

Quinn nodded her acceptance. It had been a long shot.

There was only one other person left to ask. Drake might know of somewhere they could take refuge, and, as much as Quinn didn’t want to ask for his help, she hardly had a choice. She also had a fairly good idea where she might find him.

“Stay here,” she told the others. “Please,” she added, as her father and Daniel made to argue. “I have an idea, but I need to check it out. We’re safe here for now, at least, but we need to find somewhere to go before night falls. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

As she jogged away, Daniel turned to Braddon. “Follow her,” he murmured.

It was a few miles to town but Quinn barely broke a sweat as she ran. When she entered the quiet streets she deliberately concealed herself, ducking in and out of alleyways and hiding in an underground parking lot until she was sure she had lost her tail. She wasn’t upset that they had sent someone after her, in fact, she had expected it, but she didn’t want any witnesses to what she was about to do.

She knew, long before entering the diner that he wasn’t there. Her Hunter’s instinct alerted her to his presence a good mile off and she followed the trail to an abandoned schoolyard.

“I hoped you might find me,” Drake spoke as she approached him from behind. He was sitting on a peeling bench, his dark head gazing at something near the ground at his feet.

“I only came here because I had no one else to ask.” Her voice was cold and devoid of any emotion. “I need to find somewhere safe... somewhere we can go where they won’t find us.”

“And you trust me enough to take my word for it?”

“I don’t trust you at all,” she bit out savagely, “but you owe me this.” Wearily he got to his feet and turned to face her.

“I do,” he agreed. Finally lifting his eyes, he read her intention in the icy violet of her own. “And after I tell you?” he whispered, and Quinn knew that he understood what she had come here to do.

“Do you know of a place?” she avoided his question.

“Yes.”

“Where is it?” He didn’t answer; he just stood there, staring at her. When he did speak, it was to ask a question of his own.

“Are you really going to kill me, Quinn?”

He wasn’t going to tell her what she wanted to know, and, as soon as she realised it, Quinn launched her attack with the stake she had concealed behind her back. She had come here to kill him whether he helped her or not. He had murdered Blair in cold blood and he had helped Charlotte destroy everything she held dear. The blood of the slaughtered wards was on his hands.

Drake deflected her first blow, but not very effectively, as though his heart wasn’t in it. Quinn immediately swivelled on the spot, adjusting her position and coming at him from the other side. Again, he knocked her arm aside just in time, but the tip of her stake grazed his chest, slicing a clean line through his black shirt and across his pale skin. Despite her rage, Quinn felt his pain as if it were her own.

“Fight back, you son of a bitch!” she screamed, unable to get a clear shot at his heart. She needed this to end quickly before she lost her nerve. Throwing herself forward, she brought them both crashing to the ground.

“I won’t hurt you,” Drake hissed, through clenched teeth. The pain of his wound hindered his ability to fight back even if he had wanted to, but he held her at bay, grabbing the stake in her hand with both of his and keeping it only a few inches above his chest as Quinn pushed down with all of her strength. Inch by inch the deadly tip moved closer to his heart, shuddering as Quinn’s hands shook with exertion. Her face grew red and her eyes narrowed with the effort.

“Quinn,” he breathed, his eyes drawn to hers, the perfect blend of violet and blue, “you will never know how sorry I am. I know nothing will ever make up for what I have done, but you have to let me help you. I would never, ever, hurt you. You have to believe that.”

He couldn’t look back at the stake. All he could see were those eyes, the last thing he would ever see. They were so beautiful, he almost didn’t mind.

“They are all going to die,” Quinn sobbed, “all of them! Because of you! You did this; for Charlotte. For the Quest!”

“I know.” The words, though barely more than a whisper, seemed to echo through the empty schoolyard around them, carried by the wind. “And I have no excuse. Charlotte bewitched me, as she has so many times before and I couldn’t think straight. But you saved me... don’t you see that?” Quinn finally lifted her eyes to meet his, the truth in his words impossible to deny, but eliciting a million questions. “She meant to kill you,” Drake continued, “and I couldn’t let that happen. You freed me. You freed me from the hold she had over me.”

Quinn’s hand faltered on the stake and she realised that she should never have looked into his eyes. They were arctic green, but, when he looked at her, they were familiar and kind, and filled with something that made him somehow less of a monster and more of a man.

“You’re lying.” She tried one last time to hold onto her anger, to do what needed to be done.

“I’m not going to fight you,” he murmured, an infinite sadness coming over him. “I swear on everything I hold dear that I didn’t mean to kill your friend. I don’t even know what happened. I would never have done this to you,” his gaze fell to her wrist and lingered on the black tattoo.

“I can only hope that one day you will accept that and know that I never meant to hurt you. I know that nothing can ever be between us, not now, after everything I’ve done, but you need to know the truth. I love you, Quinn. I’ve loved you since the day we met, and I will love you until hell freezes over, seeing as that’s where I’m going.” Quinn heard his words but she didn’t understand them until he finally said, “I’m going to let go now.”

Her eyes widened in shock and understanding as Drake’s arms dropped limply to his sides and he closed his eyes in a gesture of utter acceptance. Quinn fell forward as the resistance against her arms ceased suddenly, a cry of “No!” erupting from her lips as she moved with lightning reflexes and collapsed heavily onto his chest, the stake trapped innocently between them.

Quinn stifled a sob as his arms came around her, pulling her even closer. Her hands were still clutched around the handle of the stake, which was cold against her stomach, lying flat between them. She had twisted it just in time – averted the point so that no harm would come to him. She had betrayed her own; betrayed the wards she was sworn to protect; betrayed everything she stood for to save the life of the vampire she had fallen in love with.

Drake held her as she wept, wishing for all the world he could take her pain away. His own heart was heavy in his chest as he considered how many of the Summerfeld wards would have been slaughtered by now and he could only imagine her grief. When she finally pulled away from him he thought his heart would burst, but he held his tongue, knowing that anything he said now would only make things worse.

Quinn composed herself, angrily brushing away her tears.

“You said you know of a place I can take them, where they will be safe?” she croaked eventually, keeping her back to him. “Where is it?”

“Lenora’s house. She’s always lived off the grid, not even the council knows where it is. You’ll be safe there.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s a three day journey, north of here.” He gave her the directions, wishing she would turn around. When he had finished, she nodded.

“Thank you.” She had taken only one step, when he called her.

“Quinn...”

“I can’t,” she shook her head. “Please, just leave me alone.”

“We head north,” Quinn told the others when she reached the clearing.

“Where have you been?” Braddon’s voice was a mixture of frustration that she had so easily eluded him and relief that she was okay.

“I found Drake and Lenora. They were holed up in a motel. Lenora has offered her home to us. It’s out of the way and the vampires don’t know about it, but we have to get moving... it’s a long way.”

“Wait a minute!” Daniel raised his voice as everyone got to their feet. “Quinn, I don’t know what your intentions are with regards to the vampire but he is not welcome to come with us. Lenora has proven herself trustworthy, but Drake is our enemy. I may have tolerated him inside the City because we needed his help, but he murdered Blair. If he comes within five feet of us I will kill him.”

Quinn met his gaze unflinchingly.

“Blair’s death pained me far more than it did you,” she said, as she held out her wrist to prove her point and Daniel gazed upon her black tattoo as she continued, “you don’t need to tell me what he is or what he’s done. I know. He won’t come near us again.”

Chapter 9

Charlotte dipped an idle finger into the fountain as she waited. The water, black in the moonlight, burned her finger instantly, and she yanked it out, watching as the blistered flesh healed. She had been waiting all day for night to fall and now that it had, it was only a matter of time before the council arrived to see for themselves what she had accomplished. She had sent Tristan home to rest. The Guardian had done well and deserved a reprieve. He was displeased that the others had managed to escape, but they would soon be taken care of. Tristan and Charlotte had never consummated their unlikely friendship, but, with Tane and Drake gone, and her insatiable physical appetite unmet, she pondered the possibility of taking their relationship to the next level.

The thought of Drake incensed her. She was furious that he had chosen the unremarkable Guardian woman over her. Charlotte had recognised Quinn instantly, but Tristan had never mentioned her alliance with Drake. He had obviously underestimated their relationship, which was certainly more than a simple friendship, given that Drake had risked everything to protect her. No, Charlotte knew better than that. Drake was in love with Quinn, which meant that he had never really fallen for Charlotte’s own charms. It was the ultimate insult and the cause of her foul temper. Again, she stuck her finger under the gurgling water in a masochistic rage.

“Charlotte,” a deep voice greeted her and she smiled an evil, arrogant smile as she turned to face the council.

“Roman,” she narrowed her eyes. “Where are Sloane and Dimitri?” After what she had accomplished she expected a hero’s welcome. She had achieved the impossible and she deserved to be applauded by the others. In fact, the entire council should be at her feet.

“I came alone.” Roman spoke softly. “I wanted to speak with you before the others arrived.”

Appeased, Charlotte settled back on the fountain’s edge, crossing her ankles daintily and waiting expectantly for the praise that never came.

“Well?” she snapped eventually. “What is it that you wanted to say?”

“On the contrary,” he drawled menacingly, “it was you who wished to speak with me.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes in confusion.

“Weren’t you insisting on a face-to-face meeting only a few days ago?” he sneered, and Charlotte’s heart dropped into her stomach as the meaning of his words sunk in.

Leaping from the fountain, she dropped meekly to the ground at his feet.

“Forgive me, Sire,” she pleaded, all traces of arrogant pride vanishing instantly. “I did not know.”

“Of course you didn’t. Only my most trusted circle knows of my true identity. After your feat this evening, you are now within that circle. Get to your feet, Charlotte,” he ordered. “You have done me a great service and for that you will be rewarded.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

“After what you have accomplished, you may call me Aleksei,” he smiled, his fangs glinting in the moonlight.

Aleksei Mortaine had kept the flame of his revenge alight for over a thousand years. He would never forgive Eldon for murdering his only son, Julian. Enah’s death had gone some way toward balancing the scales of justice, but Aleksei would not be satisfied until every single member of the Fae, and the creatures that had fought alongside them, were obliterated. He had waged a war that had been as bloody as it was bold and, one by one, Eldon’s supporters had fallen to the might of Aleksei’s army.

Then Eldon had created Summerfeld and called upon the twelve human Guardians to protect it and its inhabitants, and Aleksei had feared that his vengeance might never be realised. The City was hidden by powerful magic, and, wary of the Hunters his enemy had created, Aleksei had retreated, lurking in the shadows under a false identity. It had infuriated him and reduced him to nothing more than a coward.

Now Charlotte had changed everything. She and the Guardian who had been coerced. He could still barely believe it.

“Take me to the Guardian,” Aleksei ordered, and Charlotte hastily complied.

Tristan opened the door, wondering why Charlotte would call on him at this late hour when she had been so adamant that he rest. To his surprise, when he opened the door, she was not alone.

“Tristan,” she smiled, looking apprehensive. “I would like you to meet King Aleksei.”

Tristan’s mouth gaped. Aleksei had not been seen or heard of in over a thousand years. Many believed he had died of a broken heart, just like King Eldon himself.

“Invite me in,” Aleksei instructed, and Tristan heard the power resonating in his voice.

“Of course, come in.” He stepped aside and they entered the house.

“I must say, I was most surprised to learn that a Guardian had betrayed the City,” Aleksei mused, his eyes sweeping the small living area. “Although I can certainly understand your decision, given the circumstances.” He stopped before the portrait of Avery, gazing at it thoughtfully.

“May I ask how you fought your tainted blood?” Aleksei asked, referring to the blood of the ten that flowed through Tristan’s veins.

“It was not without difficulty,” Tristan replied evenly.

“Eldon’s magic is very powerful,” Aleksei conceded.

“Not powerful enough, apparently.”

Aleksei chuckled. The boy had nerve. “Where is your crystal?”

“May I?” Tristan asked, and Aleksei stepped away from the portrait.

Feeling around the base of the frame, Tristan pulled it away from the wall, exposing a tiny hollow in the brick behind it. Stepping aside, Tristan gestured Aleksei forward. Inside the hollow was a small package, wrapped in cloth, and Aleksei leaned forward to retrieve it, opening it up to reveal the dark tanzanite crystal within.

“Where are the others?” Aleksei’s question unsettled both Tristan and Charlotte.

“My wife’s sister found her crystal before I could. I had hoped to convince her to reveal the location of both Avery’s and her own, but sadly, there wasn’t enough time.”

“You mean you couldn’t seduce her?” Aleksei’s displeasure was obvious but Tristan ignored the barb.

“I had also hoped to convince my niece, but she was... distracted.”

“Distracted?”

“She was under Isaiah’s tutelage, and what little free time she had was spent with a gypsy boy she took a liking to.”

“A gypsy boy?” Aleksei made a mental note. He would have his people hunt down the gypsies and find out what they knew. “Charlotte?” he turned on her suddenly, and she seemed to shrink under his scrutiny.

“I... I did manage to secure two of the crystals, my Lord, although I am not sure who they belonged to.”

“Where are they now?”

“They were taken from me,” Charlotte lamented.

“Taken? By whom?”
“A vampire named Drake,” her lip curled. “He is working with the Guardians.”

“Drake? I’ve never heard of him.”

“He is nothing... a nobody.”

“And yet he managed to outwit you.”

Charlotte squirmed with embarrassment. “I will find the stones.”

“No matter, my dear,” Aleksei softened considerably. “So long as we have one crystal the others are useless. The Rose Gate cannot be opened.” He closed the portrait and stared once more at Avery’s form.

“She was very beautiful, your wife,” he said. Charlotte’s eyes narrowed as she gazed upon the portrait, such a striking likeness of her nemesis, Quinn.

“Thank you,” Tristan acknowledged the compliment.

“What happened to her?” The question caught Tristan off guard.

“She was killed,” he replied eventually. Aleksei didn’t ask how, but the nasty smile that crossed his face implied he knew all too well.

“Charlotte,” Aleksei turned to her, and to her astonishment he offered her Tristan’s crystal. “Make sure that you take better care of this one.”

“I will guard it with my life, my Lord,” Charlotte vowed.

Chapter 10

The Guardians had led the precious group all through the day. Not used to such arduous travel many of the wards were in a bad way, but they pressed on, determined to get as far away from Summerfeld as possible. Quinn noticed that the gypsies were faring almost as well as the Guardians, no doubt used to the hardships of being on the road with little to eat or drink.

Lenora joined the weary travellers a few hours after sundown. She didn’t say much, but she guided them well and her presence went a long way toward bolstering their spirits. Nobody questioned her presence there. It occurred to Quinn that, as precarious as their situation was, the more fighters they had, the better. No one wanted to turn away someone who would help, regardless of how strange the alliance might be. Quinn also used Lenora as a gauge of her Hunter instincts. She was pleasantly surprised to find that she could be in Lenora’s company quite comfortably. The Hunters’ instincts enabled them to track and kill vampires, but they could control their talent. Lenora was no threat, and, while Quinn was acutely aware of her and every move she made, she didn’t have any urge to kill her.

In addition to their physical fatigue, the journey was fraught with tension as they evaded human settlements. It was imperative that they kept the wards hidden and didn’t draw any attention to themselves. The unicorns seemed to sense the danger they were in and heeded every gentle command issued to them by the Fae, but the Orochian could not be controlled, nor could he walk more than a few miles as the rest of them could.

“Dammit!” Daniel cursed, as, with a thunderous whine, the dragon took off once more, rising straight up into the air. Monique’s face peered helplessly down at them.

“Not much she can do about it,” Quinn pointed out wryly. Monique’s sheer presence calmed the Orochian enough that it moved meekly along with their group, not trying to savage anyone, or worse, but she could hardly control the beast’s natural instinct to fly. Fortunately, they were taking the road less travelled and no one had been around to observe him... yet.

“At least it’s dark now,” Lenora offered. Jonas, who was walking beside her, smiled for the first time since sustaining his injuries. “My surgeon will attend to you the second we arrive,” Lenora added, consolingly.

Quinn, whose mind would not be still, slowly fell back, letting the others get ahead of her.

“Are you okay?” Isaiah, astute as ever, had noticed, and slowed his pace to match hers.

“I’m fine,” she sighed.

“I am sorry about Drake.”

“He’s a vampire. I should have expected it.”

“They’re not all bad,” he reminded her, and she followed the line of his gaze to watch Lenora up ahead. “And unlike the rest of us, I know how it feels to care about one of them.”

“You loved her.” Quinn spoke without thinking, but his answer was as unexpected as it was tragic.

“I still do,” he replied simply, “but I am the Slayer. And I hurt her very deeply. I don’t think she will ever forgive me.”

“I don’t believe that. You couldn’t help it, Isaiah. It’s not your fault... you made a mistake. Granted, it was a pretty big one, but you didn’t choose to be what you are.”

“Exactly.” He smiled knowingly and Quinn got the distinct feeling that he wasn’t talking about himself anymore.

“That’s different.”

“Is it? Drake made a mistake, just like I did. He acted instinctively, just as I did.” His amber eyes seemed to bore through her, as though he could read the truth in her troubled mind. “He didn’t choose to be what he is either, Quinn.”

“So you disagree with Daniel?”

“Daniel will not be swayed. I believe it’s in the best interest of everyone concerned that you keep Drake as far away from him as you can, but I know that this is not easy for you, and I wonder if the sacrifice you make today might haunt you tomorrow.”

He left her then to consider his words. Alone once more with her thoughts Quinn craved a distraction – anything to ease the incessant pounding in her head. Not too long after, she got exactly what she had wished for.

She sensed them at the exact moment Daniel turned to warn the others. In unison, Quinn, Liam and Garrett moved to each corner of their group, shepherding the others into a tight circle. With a low snarling crescendo, the six wolves turned instantly. The other Guardians moved to protect the wards, and Quinn heard the hiss of displaced air as Isaiah drew his sword.

“Stay here,” Daniel warned him. Isaiah needed to keep the others safe, as difficult as it was for him to fight his urge to slay. That was the difference between the Hunters and the Slayer, Quinn realised. They could control their instincts, whereas Isaiah’s were a thousandfold stronger. It took incredible self-discipline for him not to act. Gritting his teeth, his eyes closed, Isaiah nodded, and Lenora moved discreetly away from him.

“There,” Isaiah announced suddenly, pointing through a small copse of trees. The four Hunters didn’t hesitate. They darted forward. The threat lay in that direction and it wouldn’t get through them.

Drawing their stakes as they ran, Quinn was astounded at how in sync they were, as though they were four parts of the same whole. The six vampires who had found them were not expecting the attack. No doubt they were mere scouts, searching the area for any sign of the group that had escaped the City. Whatever their intentions, they would not live to report back what they had discovered. It took less than five minutes for the Hunters to eliminate them all.

When they returned to the others, Quinn noticed her father watching her carefully. The wolves resumed their human form and the others let out a collective sigh of relief as Daniel informed them that the danger had been taken care of.

“We should keep going,” Daniel announced finally, and the exhausted group shuffled onwards.

In the end, it took three full days and nights to reach Lenora’s home. The wards barely slept, save for a few hours here and there when they stopped to rest, but the Guardians stayed awake the entire journey. Quinn had never known such exhaustion, both mentally and physically, but she pushed on, knowing that her own wellbeing was secondary to that of the precious travellers they guarded.

Lenora travelled with them only at night, and it warmed Quinn’s heart to see her interacting more and more with Isaiah. To his credit, he seemed to be adjusting to having her in such close proximity, although he held himself in a permanent state of tense self-control. He feared he would hurt her again, but Quinn could clearly see that his fears were unfounded. She would bet her life on the fact that Isaiah would never harm a hair on Lenora’s head. She only hoped that one day he might realise it himself.

“How is she doing it?” Quinn heard Lenora ask, and she emerged from her private thoughts to find she had drifted close to them while walking. Isaiah chuckled and Quinn followed the line of Lenora’s gaze to see Evangeline walking nimbly across the rugged terrain. “I mean, she’s blind, right?” Lenora pressed.

“She is,” Isaiah confirmed.

“Then how is she doing that,” Lenora waved her hands toward the faery to emphasise her point.

“I honestly don’t know,” Isaiah shrugged.

“It’s freaky,” Lenora mumbled. She let the topic drop, but Quinn caught her staring at Evangeline more than once after that.

They did not encounter any other vampires along the way, and, as they got closer to their destination, they felt content in the knowledge that they had not been followed and were unlikely to be found any time soon.

They arrived an hour before sunrise. Drake hadn’t been lying when he said Lenora’s house was isolated; they had not seen any other dwellings for miles. Nestled in the most glorious piece of countryside, the house was enormous and the grounds immaculate. Fields of green stretched as far as the eye could see, beautifully tended and spectacularly colourful for the home of a vampire. A tudor style mansion, the house itself was painted white with a classic black trim. It was a grand home, with high pillars, large bay windows and an air of grace. Liam let out a low whistle as it came into view. They were close enough to see, despite the cover of night.

“Be it ever so humble....” Lenora teased as they reached the front lawn. “There are stables around the back,” Lenora told them, as the door opened to reveal what Quinn could only assume was a butler. He was young, incredibly handsome and very much human.

“Welcome home, Miss Lenora,” he smiled with genuine pleasure.

“Thank you, Dylan,” she replied fondly. “These are my guests and they will be occupying the east wing. If you could see these gentleman to the stables, please?” she gestured at Kellan and Velkan.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Dylan replied smoothly. If he was surprised to see a herd of unicorns, several bedraggled humans and over a dozen faeries gathered on the front lawn, he didn’t show it. The epitome of calm, he descended the steps, beckoning them to follow. A second later he gave a yelp of terror as the Orochian descended onto the perfectly manicured grass, Monique grey with fatigue on its back. Camouflaged by the black night, Dylan had had no warning of the dragon’s arrival.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Dylan... it’s only a dragon!” Lenora snapped irascibly.

“Yes Ma’am,” the young man apologised, before scuttling around the side of the house with Kellan and Velkan leading the herd behind him.

“Well, that’s not something you see everyday,” Braddon drawled and, despite their exhaustion, Quinn and the others burst out laughing.

Chapter 11

Tristan sat in his usual seat at the council table, surrounded by vampires. He cursed the fact that their best laid plans had been thwarted. Things were supposed to have ended when the vampires attacked, with all the other Guardians dead, or gone, leaving no threat to the new regime. Now, despite the fact that he was surrounded by a veritable army of vampires, he could not sleep easily, knowing that Quinn and the others were still out there.

He had known the second he had learned he was to become a father that he could not live as a Guardian should, putting the City first, before his blood. Why should he? Why should the wards come before his own children? But, once a Guardian, always a Guardian... there was no backing out of this life. And so, instead, he had decided to change his own fate.

Tristan had loved his human life. He had been popular and successful and he had owned an upmarket penthouse apartment in a vibrant city. There had been no shortage of women clamouring for his attention. The world was his oyster until the day the white tattoo had branded his wrist and he had had to give it all up. Like the others, he had initially been captivated by the thrall of the Guardianship and honoured to trade that life for this one. He had met Quinn and their romance had blossomed, but secretly, he envied her strength and her talent. Quinn was brave and determined, but she would never put Tristan on a pedestal, like so many human women had before her. Avery, so like her sister, but softer and more insecure, had done just that. She had adored him and Tristan had chosen her over Quinn because she reminded him of his old life; a life that he had begun to miss. He couldn’t help but compare the tiny one bedroom cottage in Summerfeld with the opulence of his penthouse in the real world. Years of discontent had festered, clashing violently with the oath he had taken, until one day he discovered he was able to do the impossible.

He had come across two vampires on a routine assignment, and, for the first time, he had hesitated. What was the point of it all? Spending an eternity delaying the inevitable? He had seen enough to know that the balance would never be restored and he knew the war would never end, so he had made a choice to end it – the only way he knew how. Tristan no longer cared who won; he just wanted it over.

Charlotte had sensed his weakness that day and she had preyed upon it. It hadn’t taken long for them to make a deal; one that would finally allow the vampires to gain the upper hand. Tristan had made a deal with the devil and he would see it through, no matter what. But his plans had gone awry. Quinn had not come around as easily as he had hoped. Then she had killed Caleb who had been working with Charlotte. Lenora had warned the Guardians of the attack, and finally, Drake had chosen to protect Quinn over the Quest. The vampire was obviously in love with her, but Tristan had believed Quinn too loyal to Summerfeld to reciprocate his feelings. He had underestimated both of them.

If anyone was more enraged by Drake’s feelings for Quinn, it was Charlotte. Unlike Tristan’s feeble attempts at seducing Quinn, Charlotte had given her all to ensure that Drake fell for her charms, and she had had no doubt he would serve her loyally for as long as she needed him. It stung her pride that he had chosen another over her, both because she found herself so attracted to him after all these years, and because it made her look bad in front of Aleksei. The vampire King was everything Charlotte had dreamed he would be – strong, ruthless, and contemptible. Charlotte wanted nothing more than to be in his favour, but he held her at arm’s length, reducing her to a grovelling servant. Worse still, Sloane was determined to continue their affair, his lust fuelled by Charlotte’s victory. He found her newly-elevated status almost as attractive as he found her body and this increased his interest in her. Charlotte detested the weak-willed vampire, but she needed to keep him sweet until she had eked out every last iota of his usefulness.

She contented herself with watching Aleksei adoringly as he issued instructions from his seat at the head of the table.

“What progress have we made?” he demanded, his pale blue eyes glowing with purpose.

“We have eliminated the gryphons and most of the firebirds, my Lord,” Dimitri replied. Charlotte wondered how she hadn’t seen before how the others deferred to Aleksei. Thinking back to their meeting at her home, she realised that they had been discreet, but it had always been there. They had looked to him for answers and he had called the shots without it being obvious.

“Most of the firebirds?” Aleksei looked displeased, and Dimitri bowed his head.

“Some managed to escape, Sire.” The fact that they could fly seemed a perfectly reasonable excuse for this, but Aleksei was unforgiving.

“Hunt them down... every last one. What about the others?”

“We are dealing with the dwarves as we speak, but the Giants are proving more difficult to kill than we thought,” Dimitri continued nervously. Aleksei sighed, as though the conversation was becoming tedious.

“There is a prophecy that the Giants cannot be killed by the Gods alone,” his tone made it clear that by Gods, he meant vampires, “but that they can be killed with the help of a mortal.”

“A mortal?” Dimitri turned automatically toward Tristan.

“He is not mortal,” Aleksei snapped. Technically, this was true... a Guardian could be killed, but they would live forever, otherwise. “I am referring to our human counterparts. They have weapons that can take care of the giants for us. That is, of course, if you can handle it?”

“Of course,” Dimitri nodded, “I will find what we need.” Satisfied, Aleksei granted him a reprieve, turning instead to Sloane.

“You will take up this task,” he instructed.

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” Aleksei sneered. “Or do you feel it is beneath you to serve your King directly? My sources tell me you stayed well out of the fighting when the City was attacked. Are you perhaps too valuable to risk your life in my service, Sloane?”

“No, my Lord,” Sloane simpered pathetically. “I simply thought it prudent...”

“Do not think, Sloane. I will do that for you. For now, your sole purpose is to get me the weapons I require to destroy the winged beasts.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“What of the merfolk?” Aleksei asked Dimitri, having shamed Sloane enough to warrant continuing.

“We have not seen any sign of them, my Lord, but there are only a handful of lakes within the City that could sustain them.”

“They’re in Lake Avalon,” Tristan interjected, “at the base of Dragon’s Peak.”

Aleksei turned triumphantly back to Dimitri with a questioning look.

“Knowing their location brings us no closer to finding them,” Sloane pointed out.

“You don’t need to find them,” the words dripped off Aleksei’s tongue, “just poison the water.”

Charlotte smiled sadistically, leaning toward him in her desire to be as close as possible, but Aleksei barely noticed.

“So that leaves the dragons?” he asked, and Dimitri hesitated before providing an answer.

“They are impossible to reach. The few hunting parties we have sent to the peak have not returned.”

“Before Summerfeld was created I eradicated entire species,” Aleksei mused, “even spread across the globe as they were. And yet you cannot seem to do the same, despite the fact that the Guardians have conveniently confined them to a small area.” His voice oozed with disdain.

“We are doing everything we can, Sire...”

“No, you’re not!” Aleksei roared, and every person at the table cowered in the face of his rage. “The City has fallen and yet the creatures within it still survive!”

Tristan listened to the conversation with only half an ear, gazing at the stone grooves on the altar. He had not told Charlotte the location of the Rose Gate, claiming that, like the Hawkstone, the Guardians did not know where it was. He kept this secret purely for altruistic motives. He might be working with them, but he didn’t trust the vampires and this was the leverage he might need later if they decided not to uphold their end of the deal. Charlotte had promised him two things in return for his help: his safety and his children, and Tristan intended to make sure she didn’t renege.

“The dragons have always been your failing,” Tristan interjected. Unlike the vampires seated around him he had been taught to despise Aleksei, and though his objective had changed, he did not fear him as they did. “A thousand years ago, you slaughtered entire species, yes... but you did not defeat the dragons then, and you will not defeat them now, not in such a short space of time. You have waited a millennium; surely you can wait a few more weeks?”

Charlotte held her breath waiting for Aleksei to react, but, to her astonishment, he regarded Tristan with newfound respect as Tristan continued boldly.

“The dragons will reduce your numbers catastrophically. And, in the unlikely event that you manage to get to them, they will flee. It would take months to track them all down, not to mention drawing attention from mankind. Those weapons you speak of could just as easily be turned on you. The Guardians are still out there... I think your resources would be put to better use hunting down the greater threat.”

After the others had filed out of the ruined Cathedral, Charlotte remained seated.

“That Guardian will not live to see his children again,” Aleksei mused when they were alone. “When all the others are dead and the Rose Gate is destroyed, he will follow them to the grave.”

“As you wish. He should have known better than to correct you.”

“Oh he was right,” Aleksei smiled evilly. “We will leave this place shortly, dragons be damned, and we will find the Guardians who have eluded us.”

“Leave?”

“The City is worthless. The battle is won. My men will finish what we have started here and you will find those who escaped.”

“Aleksei,” she spoke his name reverently. He had granted her permission to use it, but she did so only in private, “if there is anything else you might need... anything at all,” she added suggestively, “I would be more than happy to indulge you.”

Aleksei could hear the desperate longing in her voice and he took pleasure in punishing her by refusing her advances.

“Have I ever told you about my wife?” he asked cruelly. Charlotte’s disappointment was tangible as the conversation took a turn for the worse.

“No.”

“Her name was Selene, and she was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. We were together since the beginning of time. When Julian was murdered, Selene was devastated. Her heart was broken and her grief consumed her.”

“She died of a broken heart,” Charlotte murmured. She was familiar with the story, but, in truth, she thought Selene had been weak.

“No, she didn’t,” his cold eyes bored into hers. “My wife, despite her grief, tried to dissuade me from seeking revenge on Eldon. She did not want us to go to war. She felt that further killing would not bring Julian back and that we should mourn him in private.”

“She... what?” Charlotte had heard many versions of the story of Selene, warped through the passage of time, but, in every one, Selene had died broken-hearted.

“Sadness did not kill Selene... she was far too strong for that. She died because I drove a stake through her heart.” He spoke without regret. “I loved my wife with every fibre of my being for thousands of years. She was my true love, my soul mate, but she challenged me when I would have my vengeance. She defied me.”

Charlotte drew in an astonished, shaky breath. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” he sneered, “you have made it clear that you wish to gain my favour. I thought perhaps if you knew the truth you might stop humiliating yourself and focus on serving me in ways that matter... like finding those Guardians,” he added menacingly.

Chapter 12

After their long journey, the Guardians wanted nothing more than to rest, but there were things to be done before they could indulge themselves. Mairin, for one, needed a proper burial. Lenora could not accompany them, bound to the house as she was in the daylight, but she did instruct Dylan to assist them.

The Fae believed in returning their remains to the earth, and so, once everyone had cleaned up, and with Lenora’s permission, Isaiah and Kellan immediately set off to find a suitable spot. Isadora was in no state to do so herself, and now that they were out of immediate danger, Micah had finally given in to his own grief. The Fae couple clung to each other, pale and shaking, as though a blanket of cold had descended upon them that they couldn’t shake off. It concerned Quinn that they were dry-eyed, as though their tears had simply dried up inside. They were in a state of subdued shock, but their eyes were hollow, making them look as lifeless as their only child. She was even more concerned for the wolves, who, although they had no tangible bodies to bury, had lost almost their entire pack in the battle of Summerfeld, including Rafe’s sister, Rayna. Rafe and Dominic were in a state of mourning, but Channon seemed to be holding herself together with almost inhuman strength. There was no doubt in Quinn’s mind that Channon felt responsible for what had happened. She had chosen to fight. She had led her pack into battle instead of hiding out in the Fae homes. So many members of the Fae had survived because they had opted for flight over fight, and Quinn could sense Channon second-guessing herself, wondering if, had she only told them to flee, her people might still be alive. Determined to set her mind at ease, Quinn approached the werewolf Alpha.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, running her eyes over the six who remained. Channon, Rafe and Dominic were the most senior wolves left. The others, two females and a male, Quinn recognised as Perry, Reagan and Sawyer. In her mind she felt grateful that three females and three males had survived, all unrelated. Between them, they could repopulate. The pack could survive. She kept her thoughts to herself, however. Channon had no doubt surmised the same thing herself, but it was not a thought anyone wanted to dwell on.

“I should’ve told them to hide,” Channon spoke eventually, keeping her voice low so the others wouldn’t hear.

“No,” Quinn shook her head. “If you had done that, we would all have died. We would never have survived the night without the wolves,” she continued, as Channon gave her a dubious look. “You tipped the odds in our favour. Without the numbers, we would’ve been doomed.”

Channon considered her words, holding her gaze as if trying to figure out if she was lying. Quinn didn’t look away. She wasn’t saying this to make Channon feel better. It was the irrevocable truth.

“Maybe,” Channon sighed eventually. “Thanks, Quinn.”

While they waited, Rowena slipped from the house, saying nothing as she crossed the immaculate lawn to the fields further out and started picking blooms that sprouted joyously from the fertile ground.

Isaiah and the others returned sooner than expected, and, wordlessly, everyone got to their feet. Anaise and Harlan supported Isadora and Micah, their own hearts breaking for their friends. Velkan carried Mairin’s body. Isaiah had offered to do it for him, but he had shaken his head vehemently. He walked carefully, as though he feared he would hurt her if he jostled her too much. He remained silent the entire way and Monique cast pained glances across at him. She walked with Jonas, who was in considerable physical pain, but who had refused to lie down. Lenora had called for her surgeon and he would be here in a couple of hours. In the meantime, Jonas was bearing up better than Quinn expected. His bravery was not lost on the others as he grimaced in pain with every step. The other gypsies walked in silence alongside the group, Rowena joining them as they crossed over the post and rail fence that separated the lawn from the fields beyond. Quinn noticed the posy of wildflowers in her hands, no doubt intended for Mairin’s grave and her heart constricted painfully in her chest.

“Here,” Kellan murmured eventually, as they congregated at the base of a tall oak tree. There could not be a more beautiful place to set Mairin to rest. Wildflowers sprung up all around them and the birds twittered happily in the trees above. The oak tree bowed slightly toward them, as though the branches were trying to shelter the spot they had chosen.

Dylan, Lenora’s butler, looked awkward carrying a variety of shovels in his hand, but he stepped forward gallantly, selecting one and hoisting it up to start digging. The shovel never reached the ground. Daniel pulled it gently from his grasp with a tight-lipped smile, and, as he did so, the Guardians stepped forward and each took a shovel of their own. Nobody spoke a word as Balthazar joined them, and silently the Guardians and their gypsy ally began to dig. Mairin had been their ward. She had died on their watch. This was their cross to bear.

The earth was soft and fell away easily, so in almost no time at all the task was complete. Isadora gave a keening wail when the Guardians climbed out of the rudimentary rectangular grave and Quinn bit her lip to keep herself from crying. It was better that Mairin’s parents let it out or their grief would destroy them. Velkan had not set her down, Quinn noticed. He held her still, tenderly, cradled against his chest as though to protect her from a world that could do her no more harm. She was wrapped in a soft white shawl that Lenora had given up without hesitation.

“Micah?” Isaiah asked gently, breaking the silence. Micah looked up, his eyes sunken and solemn. He looked as though he had aged ten years in only a matter of days. Quinn watched, her stomach in knots, as he turned to gaze at his daughter’s body, safely ensconced in Velkan’s arms. Time seemed to stand still, as Micah tried to will his body to move, and Quinn held her breath. And then, it happened. His face crumpled and his eyes crunched together as tears streamed down his face, like a dam that had finally been released. Unlike his wife, Micah’s sorrow was silent. No sound accompanied his weeping, but it was no less cathartic and Quinn breathed a sigh of relief, before finally letting her own tears flow.

Velkan, too, finally gave way to his anguish the second Micah took Mairin from him. He dropped heavily to one knee, his face in his hands, and Monique darted to his side, cradling his head in her arms as she pulled him to her breast and stroked his hair with fingers brown with dirt.

Micah waved away the offers of help as he teetered on the brink of the grave. When he dropped, he landed like a cat on the uneven soil below, bending his knees to take the impact. Mairin’s body was barely jostled, but the shawl slipped from her face and Quinn caught a glimpse of the inhuman paleness and the bluish tinge of her mouth. Isadora gave a scream of unadulterated woe, collapsing back into Anaise and pulling at her clothes in desperation. Micah gazed down at his daughter, seemingly unnerved by the disturbing sight. Through his eyes, Quinn imagined the young girl as he saw her. With pale-rose cheeks and sparkling blue eyes, her lips turned up in the shy smile she bestowed upon anyone who was fortunate enough to be in her presence. Through his tears, Micah smiled, lowering his head to kiss her smooth forehead. Then, slowly, he pulled the shawl back across her face, hiding it from view. He lowered her gently to the ground, straightening her legs and wrapped the shawl more tightly around her as though to ward off the cold. He bent over her, placing his hand over her own, clasped together over her chest. Quinn heard the soft murmur as he spoke his final words; a message that no one but he would ever know; a message to the child he had loved her whole life; the child who had been taken too soon. He emerged from the shallow pit stronger and immediately pulled his wife from Anaise, engulfing her in his strong arms and whispering words of comfort into her hair. Quinn caught the determined nod he gave them and they swiftly set about covering the body with soil.

When it was over, only a small mound of earth marked the place where they had laid Mairin to rest. Rowena placed the small posy on top of the mound and Quinn caught a few foreign words as she spoke quietly under her breath. Rowena was no doubt paying her own respects, in her own custom. Glancing around, Quinn couldn’t help but feel that, as desperate as their situation was, they had never been more united. No separate groups huddled together. Instead, faeries, wolves, Guardians and humans were all interspersed, mourning together the loss of a life that had meant something to each of them. Balthazar’s dust-caked face was indistinguishable from the Guardians’. Channon and Rafe stood close to one another, holding hands. It seemed that the ordeal they had been through had obliterated any tension between them, reminding them what was most important. Channon leaned into Rafe’s body, her head only reaching his chest, and his chin rested on the top of her head. Dominic stood slightly apart from them, lost in his own grief. He and Rayna had been close, Quinn remembered. In a way, Mairin’s burial was a way for them all to mourn all the friends they had lost during the battle; a way to say goodbye and pay homage to those who were no longer with them. They stood that way for a long time, gathered around the nondescript mound of soil that symbolised every living creature she had failed.

Chapter 13

Emotionally and physically drained, the Guardians were relieved to be able to rest, finally. Lenora placed scouts around the entire perimeter of her property so that they would be forewarned if any vampires approached, but even so, the Guardians could not place their trust solely in the hands of strangers. They were safe, however, during the day, so they agreed to sleep until nightfall, when they would take shifts watching over the house. Quinn had offered to take the first, along with Isaiah, but her father had stepped up, insisting that she rest. Too tired to argue, she followed Lenora to her allocated bedroom and crashed on the bed.

She slept for almost twenty-four hours. A deep rumble in her belly woke her at dawn the following morning, a painful reminder that she had not eaten a proper meal in days. Stumbling down the stairs she finally found the colossal kitchen after a few wrong turns. Dylan, the butler she recognised from their arrival, was preparing coffee and Quinn gratefully accepted a steaming mug. He placed the rest on an impeccably polished ornate silver tray that Quinn suspected was as old as the house itself.

“Breakfast has been laid out in the dining-room,” Dylan remarked shyly, as he carried the tray out of the kitchen. Quinn followed hastily, terrified of getting lost again in the maze of rooms. She found Isaiah, Liam and her dad helping themselves to a literal smorgasbord of food laid out on a massive hardwood table.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” As grateful as she was for the uninterrupted sleep, she was mortified that they had kept watch the whole night without her.

“We slept the whole of yesterday,” Braddon replied. “By the time we took the first shift I felt rested enough. Besides, we thought you should recharge completely before setting off.”

Finding Blair’s crystal had been deemed a top priority and Quinn would be leaving to retrieve it. She would go alone, as was their way. It’s my crystal, she reminded herself. She still couldn’t quite believe that the fierce Guardian was dead. Sobered, she reached for a plate and piled it high with assorted muffins, croissants and jam, and a couple of tea biscuits.

“Lenora has this stuff lying around?” she asked no one in particular.

“Miss Lenora treats us very well,” Dylan replied, his eyes narrowing at her blatant disregard for their hostess. Quinn wondered idly just how many human servants the vampire employed. Lenora had taken them all in, and had proven to be the most gracious host, giving them free rein over all of her property. Kellan and Velkan were still trying to settle the herd who were not used to being confined to stables, and Lenora had insisted that they use one of the larger fields behind the house during the day.

After breakfast and a much-needed shower, during which she luxuriated in the scalding hot water, Quinn stood wrapped in a fluffy bath towel eying her filthy clothes with distaste. A knock at the door distracted her, but, to her relief, Lenora stood in the hallway, a pile of clean clothes in her hands.

“I had one of my girls go to the store yesterday,” she smiled, showing an alarming amount of pointed fang. “These should fit.” Briefly, Quinn recalled that the others had been wearing clean clothes at breakfast. Lenora must have bought entire wardrobes.

“That’s incredibly kind of you.”

“It’s only a few items of clothing,” Lenora shrugged. “Do you mind closing those,” Lenora added, sweeping her arm toward the open curtains. Apologising, Quinn darted into the room, drawing the curtains and plunging them into night-like darkness.

“Thanks,” Lenora’s voice sounded closer than before and a moment later she switched on the bedside lamp. The soft light filled the room.

“It must be frustrating,” Quinn mused, “being confined to the house during the day?”

“I wouldn’t know any better,” Lenora smiled. This admission confirmed a suspicion Quinn had had about Lenora since they had first met. Lenora was an elder vampire – she had been born, not bitten. Vampires, just like the Fae and the werewolves, had been around since the beginning of time. They were able to breed, but, like the Fae, they were, by and large, infertile. Not many vampires were born. Before the Blood War, vampires had fed on humans but they had not turned them. This trend only became popular after Aleksei had declared war on Eldon, in an attempt to increase the vampires’ numbers and create a formidable army.

Lenora seemed to retain many of the values of the elders, without any of the hatred that Aleksei had urged them to emulate, and Quinn was finding that the more time she spent with Lenora, the more she grew to like and admire her. Much as with Sarah back in Brookfield, Quinn suspected that, in another life, she and Lenora might have been good friends.

“Are you going to get dressed?” Lenora prompted after a short silence. Quinn started, glancing down at the clothes in her hand. She had almost forgotten about them. Excusing herself, Quinn stepped back into the bathroom to change. Noticing the designer label on the tight-fitting jeans and the softness of the cashmere coat, Quinn mused that, while the garments might only be a few items of clothing in Lenora’s eyes, the Guardians had never owned anything nearly as extravagant. While she dressed she thought she heard a low conversation. The smile was still on her face when she stepped back into the bedroom to find Lenora perched on the edge of the bed, a silver cell phone in her hand that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Lenora must have been on a call.

“They look good on you.” Lenora held out Quinn’s boots, so highly polished they were almost unrecognisable.

“Have I told you how grateful I am for you taking us in?” Quinn smiled.

“It is my pleasure,” Lenora insisted. “Helping others... well, it makes me feel more human.”

An awkward pause followed this announcement as Quinn fought the urge to ask after Drake. She was desperate to know if Lenora had spoken with him since the battle, but didn’t know how to broach the subject. Lenora eyed her curiously and, embarrassed, Quinn cast around for something else to say.

Recalling Dylan, who had served their breakfast, she seized at the topic. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Haven’t you just?” Lenora teased.

“You have human servants. Are they...?” Quinn tapered off, feeling incredibly rude for even asking, but Lenora gave a twinkling laugh.

“You want to know if I use my persuasion to get them to do my bidding?” she guessed. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no. They serve me willingly. They know what I am, but they do not fear me.”

“You’re not worried they might tell others what you are?”
“Not really. If they did, who would believe them? And besides, they know I could simply mesmerise others to forget what they had heard, not to mention how angry that might make me,” she grinned, baring her fangs and Quinn laughed. “I pay them well and they have free housing on the grounds. Most of them were living on the streets before I offered them a place here.”

Quinn started at this revelation. “You’re a lot more human than you give yourself credit for.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Do you feed on them?” It was a personal question, but Lenora was, after all, still a vampire, and she relied on blood to survive.

“Some,” she replied easily, “but only if they are willing. I prefer not to prey on unsuspecting humans.”

“You are very different to other vampires.”

“I’m going to take that as another compliment.”

“It is,” Quinn assured her. “So, did you never have any desire to join the Quest?”

“Of course I did,” Lenora smiled sheepishly. “In fact, I once served on the council.”

“You served on the council?”

“Yes. Blindly, I believed in the Quest, just like all the others. We really are a spineless race.”

“What changed?”

“I met Isaiah,” she replied simply. “I fell in love with a Guardian. I saw the goodness in him, and it opened my eyes.”

“And after he... when he hurt you? Why didn’t you go back?”

“As angry as I was with Isaiah, I had already seen the Quest for what it was. One man’s revenge. It’s true that Eldon wronged Aleksei... oh, don’t look at me like that, you know it’s the truth,” she added, as Quinn immediately reacted to the slight against Eldon. “You know, Quinn, years before you Guardians were even created, vampires and faeries were as close as all the other species.” Her words echoed what Freya had told Quinn. “Two men changed that, and I think they’ve been given too much power. The Taboo was a law as old as time itself, but what was the harm in what Enah did? She loved Julian. She loved someone she was not supposed to love, but honestly, how many of us are guilty of that?” She raised a knowing eyebrow and Quinn flushed.

“The Fae magic is powerful and dangerous and the Taboo is for everyone’s safety,” Quinn pointed out.

“I’m not saying Enah was right,” Lenora replied, “but she made a mistake. Big deal. Do you think Julian deserved to die for it?”

“No,” Quinn murmured, “it should have been Enah.” Even speaking the words felt like sacrilege, but Quinn had answered honestly.

“Yes, it should have been Enah. But Eldon couldn’t bring himself to kill his own daughter. He loved her too much. Just as Aleksei loved Julian. Both were blinded by their love for their children, and so they began a war that would span centuries and cost countless innocent lives. You believe in protecting the wards, but can you honestly tell me you believe that Eldon didn’t start this war?”

“Eldon was not blameless,” Quinn countered. “But the difference between him and Aleksei is that Eldon realised that. He suffered terribly when he realised what he had done. And he tried to make amends by creating the City.”

“No good deed goes unpunished,” Lenora sighed. “The fact remains that the hatred between vampires and the Fae, including all the species that relied on their magic, is the result of the foolish actions of two men who could not see past their rage. I learned that the hard way. Love destroyed us, and yet love is the one thing that could save us all...” she stopped suddenly, as if she had said too much.

“What do you mean love could save us all?”

Lenora waved her hand airily. “Only that if love changed my way of thinking, perhaps it could do the same for others.”

Quinn didn’t believe her. She sensed Lenora was keeping something from her, but she knew that she would say no more, so she changed the subject.

“Lenora, you know that Isaiah never meant to hurt you, don’t you?’

“Of course I do. I think I always did; it was just easier to stay away if I convinced myself otherwise.”

“And now that you are no longer apart?”

“Isaiah is a good man... one of the best. But he is still the Slayer and I will not put him through that pain.”

Quinn could not deny it. She had seen first-hand how hard it was for Isaiah to be around vampires.

“I should thank you,” Quinn mused, as a thought occurred to her. “You’re the reason Isaiah never judged me for my friendship with Drake.”

“I’m not the only reason. Everything I just said about Eldon and Aleksei? Who do you think told me?”

Chapter 14

“How are you feeling?” Monique peered around Jonas’s bedroom door. It was the first time she had been allowed to see him since his surgery yesterday afternoon.

“Fine,” he lied.

“You look ridiculous.” She eyed the two plaster-casts that covered his arms from elbow to fingers.

“I feel ridiculous.”

“Look who I brought to say hello.” Stepping around the doorway, she revealed Lucky, the baby Chumana dragon.

“Is he allowed in here?”

“I don’t think Lenora wants her priceless antiques destroyed, so I would have to say no.” She set Lucky down on the ground and he promptly set fire to the Persian carpet at the foot of the bed. Stamping it out with her feet, Monique smacked him on the nose.

“How are you really feeling?” she turned her attention back to Jonas.

“Sore,” he admitted, “but the surgeon said it all went well. He reset the bones and said I should be right as rain in no time.”

“You saved my life,” she murmured shyly.

“I got my ass handed to me.”

“You still saved my life in the process.” She smiled and Jonas felt his heart skip a familiar beat. Embarrassed, he changed the subject. “What’s been going on out there?”

“Quinn just left. She’s gone to fetch Blair’s crystal; well … her crystal. She left her phone behind – it’s been ringing all morning. She’s in the room next to mine,” she added quickly, “I wasn’t snooping.”

“I didn’t say you were! How many rooms does this place have, anyway?”

“About a hundred,” Monique giggled. “It’s crazy, right?”

“Look, it’s nothing more than I’m used to,” he teased.

“Personally I thought your tent was a lot more impressive, but I guess we’ve just got to endure it.”

Jonas turned serious. “I’m just glad we’re together.”

“Me too,” she reached for his hand, and then, remembering the casts, she smoothed back his hair instead. “I spoke to my mom again this morning. She’s still freaking out.”

“Understandably.” Sensing her distress he drew the conversation back to safer territory. “How is the Orochian?”As he expected, Monique jumped at the chance to discuss the dragon.

“He’s struggling to adapt. He keeps flying off, sending the herd into a panic. They almost brought down the back fence yesterday; it’s driving Kellan nuts.”

“How is Velkan?” Jonas asked casually. The faery’s feelings for Monique were plain to see, and Jonas could not help but feel threatened. Velkan and Monique shared a bond he could not compete with and they were spending a lot of time together, caring for the wards.

“He’s still cut up about Mairin. He thinks it’s his fault she was out there in the first place. He thinks maybe something was wrong with the hatchlings and she was trying to find him. I don’t have the heart to enlighten him to the truth.”

“The truth?”

“I heard Freya and Anaise talking. Apparently Mairin was crazy about Velkan. They think she was trying to help.”

“So he’s cut up about her?” Jonas pressed, eager to hear if Velkan had reciprocated Mairin’s feelings.

“He is, but he’s working through it. He’s so good with the herd... even the Orochian tolerates him now.” Her smile faltered as she caught sight of Jonas’s face. “Wait... you’re not jealous, are you?”

“No,” Jonas replied far too quickly. “Why, should I be?”

“Absolutely not,” Monique smiled down at him, stroking his face, and Jonas felt a weight lift from his chest.

“Come here.” His eyes sparkled as she lowered her head to kiss him. She smelled of fresh air and flowers.

“Am I interrupting?” They broke apart at the sound of Rowena’s voice and Monique jerked her hand away from Jonas’s face. The awkward silence that followed was broken by the sound of Lucky sneezing, and Monique leapt forward to pat out the flames that had caught the bottom of Lenora’s curtains.

Rowena smiled at the blushing pair. She was delighted that Jonas had found someone he cared about, and that she was someone who was worthy of his love. Even Balthazar approved of Monique.

“I just came to check on how you were doing,” she said, stepping into the room, “but I can come back later?”
“No,” Monique insisted. “I have to get Lucky back to the other hatchlings, so I should go.”

“You will come back later?” Jonas asked.

“Of course. I’ll bring you up some lunch.”

“Well, that seems to be going well,” Rowena teased when Monique was gone. The faint smell of burnt fabric lingered in the air and she opened another window.

“Yeah, it’s almost worth having both of my arms broken,” Jonas grinned.

“I brought you this,” Rowena deposited a small flask next to his bed. “It’ll help with the pain.”

“Thanks,” Jonas knew from experience that Rowena’s herbs often worked better than any modern-day medicine. “Could you?” he smiled, embarrassed at having to admit the pain he was in. He had hoped to drink it after she left, but the plaster encasing his arms limited his movement, and the pain pills the doctor had given him were wearing off fast. Rowena quickly unscrewed the cap and dribbled some of the murky brown liquid down his throat. It burnt all the way down, settling into a fiery pit in his belly. “Thanks,” he sighed, leaning back on the pillows. “Where’s my dad?”

“He’s out helping Kellan repair the fences. The unicorns keep kicking out poles. They don’t like being confined.”

“How long do you think we’ll stay here?”

“I have no idea. The Guardians are determined to open the Rose Gate but they need all twelve crystals. Quinn’s gone to fetch her new crystal – the one which belonged to Blair - but Lucas’s is still unaccounted for and Tristan’s...”

“Is in the belly of the beast,” Jonas finished the sentence for her.

“Pretty much. So I guess we’re here for a while.”

“We have to help them.”

“You have to rest,” she corrected, reaching for the flask and making him drink. “Your father will handle this.”

“Is he still treating you like the Invisible Woman?”

Rowena laughed. “Whatever happened to those comics, anyway?” She had found a stack of them at a thrift store years ago and hadn’t been able to resist buying them for Jonas. He had loved those comics.

“I don’t remember; they were probably lost in one of our thousand moves.”

They chatted for a while longer until Rowena noticed Jonas’s eyes getting heavy. The herbal tea she had made was working. It eased the pain but it also made the drinker drowsy. She waited until he had fallen asleep before pulling up his covers and planting a soft kiss on his forehead.

Rowena left Jonas’s room and headed for the paddock. Balthazar was working side by side with the Fae men, his dark eyes and olive complexion a stark contrast to their fair paleness. Still, the sight pleased her heart. Finally Balthazar was where he truly belonged, and she hoped that realising his life-long dream might make him less angry. He had not been as cruel to her the past few days as he had before they went to live in Summerfeld. While they weren’t exactly friends, he had broken his perpetual silence and deigned to speak directly to her when necessary.

“How’s Jonas?” he asked as she approached.

“He’s good. All the better for a visit from Monique this morning.”

Balthazar smiled, confirming her suspicions that he was pleased with his son’s choice.

“I’m going to go up and see him in a minute,” he said.

“He’s sleeping. I gave him some tea to help with the pain. He’ll probably be out for a few hours.”

Balthazar didn’t seem to hear her. Instead, he was staring at her, deep in thought.

“We need to talk,” he murmured.

“Sure,” she nodded, her stomach in knots. She didn’t know if she could take any more hurt from him. She might be strong, but she was human, after all. Nailing in one final pole, Balthazar turned to Kellan.

“Will you be okay to finish up here?”

“Of course,” Kellan replied. “Thank you for your help.”

“They’re worried,” Balthazar announced as he and Rowena made their way back to the house. “We are far too exposed here and it’s only a matter of time before the vampires find us.”

“The Guardians will find the crystals,” Rowena spoke with an assurance that surprised him.

“You have a lot of faith in them.”

“I’ve seen what they can do, and what lengths they will go to to keep us all safe.”

Balthazar stopped to face her, his dark eyes searching her face as though seeing it for the first time.

“It’s frightening how far people will go for the ones they love,” he mused darkly. Rowena opened her mouth to defend herself, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“Don’t, please... you don’t have to. I was a fool. I was blinded by anger,” he ran his hands through his hair, leaving a trail of grey dust in the ebony. “For so many years I had only one purpose. I couldn’t see past finding the City, and, in the process, I neglected everything that mattered, Jonas... you... And you were right - I took the money without question. If I had just stopped long enough to think, I would have seen what was really going on, but it was easier to look the other way. What you did,” Balthazar squeezed his eyes shut as if to block out the image, “it was my fault as well as yours.”

His admission made Rowena’s heart lurch in her chest. “I need to apologise,” Balthazar continued, his voice breaking slightly as if he wasn’t sure exactly how to go about it. “What I did to you was unforgiveable. I was supposed to protect you, but instead, I threw you to the wolves.”

“Surely you don’t mean those wolves,” Rowena smiled, gesturing at Channon and Rafe, who were emerging from the trees nearby.

“It’s not funny,” Balthazar half-laughed, half-sobbed. “Don’t try and make me feel better. I don’t deserve it. I can never take back what the others did to you, but, as soon as I realised my mistake, I tried to make amends. It was simply too late.”

The words were a jumble, so sweet and sincere that Rowena barely registered half of what he was saying, but the last struck a chord deep inside of her.

“That’s why you let them go?” she gasped, finally understanding. “That’s why you didn’t tell them about the City? I thought it was only to save Jonas, but you sent them away because of me.” She couldn’t believe that he had made such a colossal sacrifice. Deep down Rowena had known that Balthazar’s heart had not been in it when he had told her he didn’t want her with him after the convoy had decided to leave. That’s why he hadn’t forced the issue when she had insisted on staying. But he had given her the choice, believing she hated him. He had given her an escape; from him.

“I figured the least I could do was make sure you never had to see them again,” Balthazar admitted.

“Oh Balthazar!” tears pricked at her eyes.

“I know that too much has happened for us to ever go back to the way we were,” he continued. “There’s a lot of resentment between us... on both sides, but I would like to try and start over. When you chose to stay... I thought perhaps you might feel the same. We don’t know how much time we have left and I don’t want to waste it. You and Jonas are my priority now. Say the word and we will leave here, we will go somewhere safe and never speak of Summerfeld or its wards ever again.”

Gazing up at him, Rowena heard the words she had yearned to hear for so long. Balthazar had finally chosen his family over the quest he had followed blindly his whole life, but strangely, they didn’t make her feel the way she had expected. She loved him, but she also knew that this was where he belonged. So, instead of accepting his offer, she made one of her own.

“Marry me,” she said simply.

Chapter 15

Quinn was still reeling as she drove the flashy car Lenora had lent her away from the house. Isaiah, the most dedicated of them all, believed that Eldon had been wrong, just as Quinn herself did. It didn’t change the fact that they needed to protect the wards, or the fact that the vampires had to be stopped, but it was nice to know she wasn’t alone in her feelings.

She had just shifted into fourth gear, enjoying the power of the Mercedes, when a figure stepped out onto the street a short distance ahead. Slamming on the brakes, Quinn skidded to a halt.

“Drake,” she sighed as she stepped out of the car. “What are you doing here?” It never ceased to amaze her how human he looked by the light of day.

“I heard you were heading out alone to retrieve the crystal.”

“How did you hear... oh,” she frowned, answering her own question, “Lenora.” She recalled the muted voice she had heard while she was dressing and the cell phone in Lenora’s hand. She should have known. Recovering quickly, she continued, “You can’t be here. I told you to stay away from me, away from us. The other Guardians will kill you on sight.”

“I’ll leave before we get back. They’ll never know I was here.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“If you think I’m letting you go out there alone you’re crazier than I thought,” he replied bluntly, moving toward the passenger door. “Every vampire within a five hundred mile radius is looking for you. You can hate me all you want but I will not leave you unprotected.”

“I can’t trust you with that crystal,” she said pointedly.

“Quinn!” he raised his voice in frustration. “I don’t give a damn about the crystal. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I am here for you – and only you. Now get in the God-damned car.”

They drove in silence for almost an hour, Quinn’s fingers clenched on the steering wheel, her body rigid with tension. Drake, on the other hand, lounged in his seat, appearing utterly relaxed. She doubted his outward facade was a true reflection of his emotion, given what had happened the last time they had met, but she was grateful that he didn’t bring it up. She had failed. She didn’t need him to remind her of it.

“You’re going to go after Tristan’s crystal next, aren’t you?” he asked eventually, breaking the lengthy silence. Quinn didn’t respond. “You won’t get near it, you do realise that?”

“I’m not discussing this with you,” she snapped, but he was completely unfazed.

“If Charlotte has it, which I think it’s safe to assume she does, any attempt to retrieve it would be a suicide mission.” Quinn made a left turn, keeping her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I think you should run,” Drake continued. “All of you.”

“There is nowhere we can run that they won’t find us.”

“Then you run again. And you keep running, until the end of time.”

Frustrated, she threw caution to the wind. “We will lose them all if we do that. The wards need the fountain to survive, they’ll die without it.” It might take a few thousand years, but they would die, eventually.

“And I take it that is not something you can live with?”

“Have you lost your mind?” she finally took one hand off the wheel to thrust her wrist under his nose. “I am a Guardian of Summerfeld,” she spoke with a fire that he had always suspected lurked within her. “A Hunter! I will protect them and I will make them safe. The City will be resurrected if it’s the last thing I do.” Drake reached up and moved her hand away from his face, not wanting to look at the tattoo a second longer.

They lapsed into another drawn-out silence, neither feeling much like talking. Despite Lenora and Isaiah’s prompting, Quinn knew that there could never be anything between them, and Drake was only now coming to realise it himself. Still, he did not regret the decision he had made, even if had been too late to redeem himself in Quinn’s eyes. Lenora had been right... the Guardians’ cause was worth fighting for. He was ashamed that his own people had carried Aleksei’s hatred in their hearts for so long, and even more so that Charlotte had blinded him, however briefly, to that fact.

“Is there any reason you’re driving so fast?” Drake asked much later in the day, the silence having stretched into hours.

“Yes,” she sighed, accepting the inevitable. “I was trying to get there before nightfall.”

“And I take it from your delighted tone that that’s not going to happen.”

“No,” she admitted. “I’m going to have to find somewhere to spend the night. There’s a map in the glove compartment... make yourself useful, will you?”

Grinning, he retrieved it. “Pull off at the next stop. There’s a motel just a few miles from here,” he offered, after a moment’s consideration. Quinn followed his directions and sure enough, they soon pulled into the lot of a small motel.

“Shall we get a double?” Drake asked pleasantly. It wasn’t even worth arguing. He wouldn’t leave, and asking him to sleep in the car would only prove that she was affected by his presence, so instead, Quinn gritted her teeth and booked a twin room.

Once inside, she began to wish she had insisted he sleep in the car after all. The room was tiny and consisted of two twin beds, separated by a small bedside table. The only other furniture was a miniscule closet and a rickety dresser painted the most hideous shade of green. Dumping her duffel bag on the bed closest to the door, Quinn drew the curtains.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she announced, unnerved by Drake’s silence. Accustomed to his suggestive sense of humour, she was surprised when he simply picked up her bag and moved it to the bed nearest the bathroom, before flopping back on the one closest to the exit.

The bathroom door didn’t have a lock. Taking a lightning shower, terrified that Drake might walk in at any second, Quinn emerged from the steaming room to find him exactly as she had left him. His arms were folded behind his head and his eyes were closed. Tiptoeing to her bed she shoved her dirty laundry into her bag and pulled out her stake, placing it on the bedside table between them.

“Do you ever relax?” Drake asked, making her jump.

“I thought you were asleep.”

He ignored her, opening his eyes and reaching for the stake.

“Do you ever feel safe enough to leave this out of reach?” he persisted, turning it over in his hand.

“No,” she shook her head. “Out of reach is as good as dead.”

She wasn’t talking about him, and she spoke without resentment or bitterness, but Drake wished he could make her feel safe enough to rest, without fear of attack. He wanted her to trust that he could protect her, because he could. He pressed the point of the stake against his finger and Quinn was reminded of the night he had confronted her about being a Guardian. He had been waiting for her when she got home and he had held her stake exactly the way he was holding it now. Then, he had looked at it with anger, but now there was only sadness in his eyes. The stake was a symbol of the distance between them.

“Perhaps one day you won’t need it,” he mused eventually, placing it back on the table and rolling over to look at her. Quinn was acutely aware that she was wearing nothing but a nightshirt under her covers.

“I doubt that.”

“You doubt a lot of things.”

“Drake,” she pleaded, “please don’t.” She wasn’t in the mood to get into another argument with him.

“Sleep, Quinn,” he cut her off. “I will make sure no harm comes to you.”

Chapter 16

Quinn woke the following morning after the best night’s sleep she’d had in a long time. Drake was nowhere to be seen so she hastily got ready before hoisting her duffel back over her shoulder and leaving the tiny room.

Crossing the lot after handing in their key, she found him leaning against Lenora’s Mercedes.

“I thought you might want to get ready in private,” he explained when she drew near. “Besides, I couldn’t stand another minute of your snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” she snapped, but a small grin settled in place as she yanked open the driver’s door.

They drove for a few hours in companionable silence.

“We’re almost there,” Quinn announced finally. She was surprised at the area where Blair had hidden her crystal, which seemed to be a low-income, farming community, until they turned onto a dusty farm road and she caught sight of the rusted metal sign at the entrance. The sign read “Lindberg” - Blair’s family name.

As they pulled up in front of a dilapidated farm house an elderly man opened the screen door.

“Can I help you folks?” he called from the porch steps.

“I’m so sorry to intrude,” Quinn replied, “but we’re low on gas and I was wondering if you might point us in the direction of the nearest gas station?”

“The nearest station is over twenty miles away, darlin’. You think you got enough in your tank to get you there?” Quinn shook her head, no.

“I told you we should have taken a right back there,” Drake intervened. “She’s hopeless with directions,” he added fondly, climbing the steps. “The name’s Christian, this is my wife, Pauline.”

“Thomas Lindberg,” the man squeezed Drake’s hand in a firm grip. “Look, I keep spare gas out in the barn for the tractor, I’d be happy to fill you up.”

“That’s very kind of you. I will, of course, reimburse you for the trouble.”

“No need,” Thomas waved away the courtesy, and then, as Drake remained on the threshold. “Well, come in, I can’t carry that gas myself.” Gratefully, Drake stepped inside, and Quinn followed.

“You want to wait inside, Miss?”

“Thank you,” Quinn nodded.

She paused in the hall to examine the framed photographs above the fireplace, her curiosity getting the better of her. These people were Blair’s distant descendents, and she examined each face, searching for any resemblance. She thought she recognised Blair’s insolent green eyes in a photograph of a young man with a tattoo peeking above the neckline of his white T-shirt.

“My grandson, Austin.” Thomas had come to stand behind her. “Handsome young man, isn’t he? I’m not wild about that tattoo though.”

“He looks like you.” It was true. Despite the weather-beaten exterior, Thomas had the same haughty glare and the strong jaw and straight nose were visible even through the lines of time.

“More like his mother, my daughter, Josephine,” Thomas replied modestly. “She died a few months back. It was a car accident. Austin took it very badly. He was in the Marine Corps, but he quit just after she died. We haven’t seen him since the funeral.”

“Where is his father?”

“No idea. He took off before the boy was born. Josephine raised him all on her own, she did, and a fine job she made of it too.”

Acutely conscious of his heartache and not knowing what to say, Quinn turned away from the fireplace.

“The barn’s out back,” Thomas continued, pulling himself together. “My wife’s not home or I’d offer you a cup of tea,” he added to Quinn.

“I’m fine, thank you. Although I would like to use the bathroom if you don’t mind?”

“Go ahead, there’s one down the hall. Make yourself at home; we’ll have you on your way in no time at all.”

Smiling politely, Quinn waited until they were gone before sneaking up the stairs. Walking straight into the first bedroom off the landing, she opened the closet, which was filled with old photo albums.

The crystal was too high, just out of her reach, but she could feel it calling to her. Now that she was so close, the aura it emitted was like a homing beacon leading her directly to it. Quinn grabbed the bedside table and placed it in front of the open doors. Climbing onto it, she groped blindly into the back of the top shelf. Finally, her fingers found a loose board and she pulled it free, exposing a small alcove in the brick behind it. Snatching up the crystal which was nestled in the dust, she felt its warmth in her hand.  It was even smaller than Avery’s; the size of a pebble and onyx black. As she gazed at it she heard Drake and Thomas chatting while they walked around the house and she slipped the crystal into her pocket before replacing the table. She shut the closet doors and bolted back downstairs. By the time the men returned she was sitting quietly on the sofa, paging through a faded magazine.

“All done,” Thomas assured her, “although you might want to have your fuel gauge checked – there was over half a tank of gas in there.”

“Really?” Quinn feigned surprise, “how strange, I’ll definitely get that checked. I’m sorry we troubled you.”

“Hardly trouble, it’s just a few gallons of gas,” he scoffed, as he walked them to the front door. “You folks drive safely now.”

“We will,” Quinn promised, “and thank you again.”

“People are so incredibly helpful,” Drake mused as they pulled off in a cloud of dust. “Wouldn’t you agree, Pauline, darling?”

“Knock it off.”

“You take the fun out of everything,” he drawled. “So, did you get it?” She didn’t reply, coming to a halt at the end of the driveway. “All right, all right! You don’t have to tell me,” Drake was busy checking the map. “So, can we go now?”

“Sure. Should I just drive straight through him?” Quinn asked, and he looked up to see the real reason she had stopped. A man stood in their path aiming a gun at them through the windscreen.

“Don’t,” Quinn put a restraining hand on Drake’s arm as he reached for his door handle, “he’s a Guardian.” She had recognised the tribal design running up his neck from the photograph on Thomas’s mantel and she had a strong suspicion that this was Blair’s Guardian replacement. The impact of her words was not lost on Drake. A Guardian could sense a vampire and it was the middle of the day. If this man was who Quinn thought he was, Drake’s secret was out.

Slowly, Quinn opened her door, keeping her hands clearly visible as she stepped out of the car.

“Austin Lindberg?” she called, her voice steady, and the young man lowered the gun slightly at the sound of his name. His head was shaved to the scalp and he had a livid scar running from the outer corner of his eye down his right cheek that hadn’t been present in the photograph on Thomas Lindberg’s mantel.

“My name is Quinn,” she continued calmly, “We’ve been looking for you.” She figured it was better to tell a warped version of the truth, rather than explaining she had just robbed his grandfather’s house. Turning her hand so that her wrist faced him, she displayed her Hunter tattoo. Immediately, Austin lowered the gun to his side. “You mind putting that away?” Quinn asked. “It makes me nervous.” After a moment’s hesitation he slipped it into the back waistband of his jeans and started toward her. Quinn moved quickly to intercept him, trying to keep him away from the car. Not about to let her meet this armed assailant alone, and only slightly understanding what was going on, Drake followed her. Too late, Quinn shouted a warning, but Austin had already sensed him. With lightning reflexes, he whipped the gun back out of his jeans, but by the time he took aim, he was pointing it at an empty space.

“Don’t!” Quinn yelled, not at Austin, but at Drake, who had reappeared behind him. Austin spun around, but Drake jerked the gun from his hands. She rushed forward trying to diffuse the situation. “He’s on our side,” she assured the new Guardian, “things are... complicated.” Until he was trained, Austin would not know that Drake should not be out in the sun, but the second they returned to the others he would learn the truth and it would all come out.

Checking Austin’s wrist, Quinn saw the white tattoo and her suspicions were confirmed. What she couldn’t figure out was the reason he was here. A new Guardian would report directly to Cliffdale and yet he had come here, to his family home, instead. A small military rucksack lay discarded at his feet.

“You have something that belongs to me,” Austin spoke finally, his eyes never leaving Drake’s.

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” Drake replied.

“Not you. Her,” he jerked his head in Quinn’s direction. Quinn took only a second to process this strange request, and then it dawned on her; the reason he was here. Guardians always retrieve their crystals before setting out for the City. Reaching into her pocket, she felt for the amber crystal that had been in her possession for over three hundred years. It still felt cold to her touch. She held it out and Austin immediately took it from her. Strangely, Quinn felt unmoved by its loss. It no longer belonged to her.

“I’ve been travelling for days,” Austin explained, seeming more comfortable now that he had what he had been searching for. “Yesterday I could sense it was close, but then it started moving. I followed you, never expecting to end up here. I haven’t been home since I left the Marines.”

“Like I said,” Quinn lied, “we were looking for you. Things have changed. Summerfeld is gone. It’s a long story,” she added, as his eyes widened in alarm, “and one best told when we reach the others. I’ll take you to them.” She glanced around, trying to figure out how he was travelling. “How did you get here?”

“My bike is just round the corner. I didn’t know why it was leading me here and I didn’t want to alert my grandparents to my arrival.” Austin explained, his eyes still on Drake. He wasn’t just going to accept her explanation that things were complicated, she realised, as he asked, “What is he doing here?”

Quinn squirmed. She was going to have a lot of explaining to do when they got back. “He’s helping me. There are a lot of people looking for us.”

“You mean vampires?”

“Yes, the very bad kind.” She gazed back in the direction of the house, coming to a decision. “We should get out of here before someone sees us, but, before we do, you should go and see your grandfather.” Austin looked about to argue. “He misses you,” Quinn insisted, not giving him the opportunity. “And where we’re going, you might not get to see him again for a very long time.”

“I am so sorry!” she turned to Drake the moment Austin was out of earshot. “I never meant for anyone to find out about you.”

“I know you didn’t.” She had kept his day-walking a secret all this time. Even after what he had done to Blair.

“This changes everything,” he spoke quietly, as though talking to himself.

“When we get back you’re going to have to get as far away from us as you can.”

“No,” he shook his head vehemently.

“They’ll kill you! Don’t you see... now more than ever! You broke the taboo – they can’t let you live. It’s like Julian all over again.” It was ironic that only a few days ago she had been determined to kill him herself and yet, here she was, concerned for his safety.

“Let me talk to Daniel.”

“He won’t listen,” Quinn insisted. “I can’t protect you from him... from any of them.”

“I didn’t ask you to. I want to talk to him.”

“You murdered his protégée! He’s the last person who will listen to anything you have to say!”

At this, Drake gave a harsh hollow laugh. “He started it,” he replied cryptically, bringing Quinn up short. It was the first time she had heard him sound truly bitter.

“What do you mean?” she asked, in confusion.

Whether because he knew that his deepest secret – the thing that he had spent years concealing – was finally exposed, or whether it was the desperation in Quinn’s voice, he could not be sure, but Drake had had enough.

“Your friends are not what you think,” he hissed. “Daniel is not a saint, Quinn, no matter how badly you wish it. You’re so quick to blame my kind for everything that has happened, but maybe you should start looking a little closer to home! If Daniel wants to blame someone for Summerfeld’s demise, perhaps he should take a long hard look in the mirror.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Charlotte,” he replied. “Daniel killed Charlotte. It’s because of him she even exists. If he hadn’t plunged a stake into her chest, I wouldn’t have had to turn her. She would never have become what she is today. She would never have sought the City, and she would never have succeeded where all others had failed.”

“Daniel killed Charlotte?” Quinn shook her head in denial. She had known that Charlotte had died the night the Slayer attacked the village where she and Drake were hiding, but she had assumed a vampire had wounded her. “No; no! He couldn’t have! We don’t kill humans.”

“It was an accident,” Drake relented slightly. “But the point I am making is that Daniel is not innocent, either. We have both done things we regret. I want to talk to him.” He was determined, and Quinn was still reeling too greatly from the revelation that Daniel had done the unthinkable, to reason it all out.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she consented.

Austin was back in an hour. His face was unreadable and Quinn wondered if she had made the right decision encouraging him to visit Tom.

“I’m ready,” was all he said.

“You can follow us,” she offered. “I’ll take your bag, if you like?”

“No, I’ve got it.” He bent over and retrieved the rucksack, then turned and walked away from them.

Chapter 17

Melchior’s initial pleasure that he was now in charge of the convoy was fast losing appeal. He had never really appreciated how much effort was required to keep their people in check. Balthazar had made it look easy, and Melchior had never had to do anything other than the odd supply run. The other gypsies had tired quickly of his habitual drinking and were starting to lose faith in his leadership. The last thing Melchior needed was a revolt on his hands.

Pulling himself into a sitting position he peered, bleary-eyed, at the sizeable naked figure beside him. He could barely remember anything about last night, but he must have been far drunker than he had thought, if he had bedded that. Disgusted with himself, Melchior retrieved his pants from under the girl’s fat pink legs with much hauling and grunting.

In a foul temper, he emerged from his tent, noticing the last rays of the sun shining over the horizon. He had slept the day away. Again! The campsite was uncharacteristically subdued, and, as he wandered over to the fire in search of something to eat he felt the accusing eyes of the other gypsies on him. Ignoring them, Melchior ate his fill, washing it down with a carafe of water as the sun finally set. Braver now that the dark hid his bloodshot eyes, he addressed the group at large.

“Tomorrow we head east.”

“What for?” Zebulon snapped. Zebulon was a fair few years younger than Melchior, not much of an asset to the community himself, but his wife, Cara, had taken over Rowena’s duties, making her invaluable. Cara’s meteoric rise through the ranks seemed to have an inflatory effect on Zebulon’s balls, Melchior thought.

“What for, Zebulon?” Melchior rounded on him, his face lit by the dancing flames of the fire. “What do you think? Aren’t we searching for the lost City?”

“We were,” Zebulon hissed, “when Balthazar was leading us. Now we seem to be going around in circles, starving, and winter is almost upon us.”

“Well, why don’t you find work?” Melchior barked. “Or better still,” he glared at the women gathered around the fire, “why don’t you whores go and find a fair?”

“Rowena handled the fairs,” Cara, retorted disdainfully. “Without her we cannot negotiate with the locals.”

“We are out of money, Melchior,” Zebulon returned to the attack. “Soon we will be out of liquor, too, and then, perhaps, you will feel the hardship as we do.”

Melchior let out a harsh, strangled laugh. “If you think you can do a better job leading us, be my guest,” he sneered. “Better still, why not let your whore take charge, as she so obviously owns your balls. No woman of mine would ever speak out against a man as she does.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” a feminine voice called, and they all swivelled in the direction of the stranger’s voice. At first they could see nothing through the gloom, but then a woman appeared, walking slowly toward them. She was dressed in the tightest black leather pants, and her top was low cut, showing off an impressive cleavage for someone so young. Her frame seemed too slight to carry the heavy tresses of dark hair braided over one shoulder. Melchior felt his lust stirring at the sight of such a woman. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on, but there was something deadly in the curve of her smile. “Why don’t I take charge?” the brazen beauty simpered sweetly, her eyes meeting Melchior’s.

“Who are you?” he demanded, getting clumsily to his feet.

“My name is Charlotte,” she replied, coming to stand before him. “And I am looking for someone. Where is Jonas?”

“If it’s a man you’re after, I think you should aim slightly higher than a boy,” Melchior replied suggestively, tucking his beefy hands into his belt and jutting out his hips. Charlotte eyed his filthy pants disdainfully, her lip curling. Grabbing his head between her hands, she twisted his neck brutally, hearing the snap of bone before dropping his body to the ground. With shrieks of terror, the gypsies around the fire scattered, fleeing in all directions.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Charlotte murmured evilly, and, like shadows, the vampires surrounding the camp stopped them in their tracks, killing most, but leaving a few alive to answer her questions.

“Now,” she continued calmly when those who remained were forced to kneel before her. “As I mentioned, I’m looking for a gypsy boy named Jonas. Tell me where he is, and you live. Don’t, and... well, you get the picture.” She placed a booted heel on Melchior’s back.

“He’s not here,” Zebulon answered. “He ran away a few weeks back. We left his father and two of our women back in a town called New Haven to look for him. We haven’t seen them since.”

Tristan had already informed Charlotte of this so she knew he was telling the truth. If they hadn’t returned to their camp after the City had fallen, then it stood to reason they were with the Guardians who had escaped.

“What is your name?” she asked.

“Zebulon.”

“Could you find them, Zebulon?” The gypsies were nomads, travelling extensively across the globe, but surely they must have a means to find one another if they were ever separated.

“I can tell you where they were camped in New Haven,” he offered hopefully.

“They are no longer at their camp in the woods. If they were, I wouldn’t be here,” she added obviously. “And unless you can find them, you are of no use to me.”

Zebulon hesitated, torn between telling a lie to save their lives, and knowing that there was no way he would be able to find Balthazar if he and Rowena had left their previous camp site. His pause was all the answer Charlotte needed.

“You can’t,” she sighed wearily, “how unfortunate.” Stepping toward Zebulon, she extended her fangs.

“Wait!” the woman on his right scrambled to her feet. “I might be able to find them.”

“Cara!” Zebulon warned, fearing she might try and lie outright to this monster, but Cara held Charlotte’s gaze steadily.

“How?” Charlotte demanded.

“Rowena,” Cara explained, turning apologetically to her husband. “Rowena would’ve known some of the women might try to find her. She may have left clues.” Bravely, she issued an ultimatum. “Let the others go, and I will help you, if I can.”

Charlotte considered this. “Fine. Bring him along,” she pointed at Zebulon. It was obvious that the two were in love, and nobody did anything without motive. “Just in case she needs a bit of incentive.”

“No!” Cara screamed, kicking out at the men who seized her shoulders. “No! Leave him alone!” Ignoring her cries, another pair of rough hands grabbed Zebulon.

As her henchmen led Zebulon and Cara away, Charlotte watched the other gypsies flee without so much as a backward glance or a moment’s thought for the brave woman who had just saved their lives.

“As soon as we’re gone, kill them all,” she murmured cruelly.

Chapter 18

Back at their new base of operations, Isaiah found Braddon alone in the library. He sat perfectly still in a comfortable armchair, gazing unseeingly out of the window. Braddon had been subdued ever since Quinn had left the day before to retrieve Blair’s crystal.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Isaiah broke the silence.

“I don’t think they’re worth that much,” Braddon sighed. “I keep trying to come up with a plan - something we haven’t considered – but it’s hopeless. I fear we may be doing the wards an injustice by simply sitting here waiting to be found.” It was a mark of the Guardians’ quiet strength that they had not mourned the City’s loss. The Fae, the wolves, and even, to an extent, the herd, were struggling to recover, their desolation glaringly obvious. The Guardians did not have that luxury. Losing Summerfeld had devastated them, but, being who they were, they could not afford to grieve. They had to pick themselves up and move forward, always in the best interests of those precious few who remained. The wards came first.

“We are doing the best we can,” Isaiah corrected gently. “And if there is one thing I have learned in all these years, it’s that nothing is ever hopeless. We have the Hawkstone, after all these years, and that, in itself, is a sign. Finally, we can open the temple.”

“Yes, but we are still missing two crystals. Three, if Quinn fails.”

“Quinn never fails.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Braddon agreed, with a fierce pride.

“Have you heard from her?”

“No,” Braddon shook his head. “And she’s left her phone behind.”

Isaiah could see the worry etched on his brow. In truth, it surprised him, too, that Quinn would be so careless. “She has a lot on her mind,” he offered feebly.

“We all have a lot on our minds,” Braddon countered. He always reacted defensively when he felt helpless.

“She will be fine,” Isaiah soothed. “She said herself the crystal wasn’t too far away. A couple of days round trip, at the most. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”

“I worry about her,” Braddon admitted.

“I would expect nothing less. She’s your daughter.”

“She’s reckless.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Isaiah smiled, “it seems the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree. You forget, I knew you before your daughters were born, Braddon,” he added, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Braddon had been just as impulsive as Quinn, if not more so, but when she and Avery were born, he had become far more responsible. Having children of his own had forced him to grow up.

“I tried to set a good example.”

“You are an impeccable Guardian, Braddon,” Isaiah agreed, and then, coming to a decision, he took a seat opposite his old friend. “Forgive me, but there is something I must tell you.” It was time for Braddon to learn the truth. Tristan had been exposed as the traitor and it was no longer necessary to keep the others in the dark.

Braddon listened, horror-struck, as Isaiah told him about the circumstances surrounding Avery’s death, unable to speak as his emotions overwhelmed him.

“Quinn knows this?” he asked eventually, when Isaiah was finished.

“Yes. She’s known for some time.”

Braddon’s eyes filled with tears and he pressed his fingers into them, trying to stem the flow. “Werewolves?” he choked out eventually. “You’re certain?”

“I performed the autopsy myself. I am truly sorry I didn’t ask your permission, but Quinn asked me to keep it between us. Then, when we learned of the traitor, we weren’t sure who we could trust.”

“You suspected it might be me?” Braddon’s shock was expected. “Quinn thought I might be the traitor?”

“We didn’t know who it was. But to be fair, she didn’t want to consider it might be you.”

“I found Caleb,” Braddon intoned hollowly. “I brought that bastard into Summerfeld and he might have killed my daughter.”

“The vampires planted Caleb where they knew you would find him. You couldn’t have known.”

“I defended him! I defended that son of a bitch! When Quinn wanted him punished, I told her to stay out of it.”

“As we all did,” Isaiah pointed out. “Werewolves are to be protected – that is our duty. Besides, Caleb has been punished. Quinn killed him, remember?” Braddon finally gave way to the tears, dropping his head into his hands.

“We will find the people responsible for Avery’s death,” Isaiah promised. “And Quinn will be fine. She’s much stronger than you give her credit for.”

“It’s not that,” Braddon lifted his head. “I just couldn’t be prouder.”

Knowing that there was nothing more he could say to ease Braddon’s troubled mind, Isaiah left him. As always, he seemed to be drawn to Lenora and he found her in the kitchen, overseeing lunch preparations.

“No, Hilda,” she shrieked, as a portly old woman in an apron laboured over a steaming pot. “You don’t add the cream until the very end!” Catching sight of Isaiah, Lenora smiled.

“It smells fine to me,” he commented wryly. “Besides, how would you know? You don’t eat this stuff.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a remarkable cook. It’s one of my many talents. I’m glad you’re here,” she added, tossing a tea towel onto the kitchen counter and linking her arm through his. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” There was no denying the nervous tremor in her voice.

“What is it?”

“Now don’t be cross,” she began as they walked toward the living-room, “but I sent Drake to accompany Quinn on her trip.” Isaiah jerked his arm out of hers.

“You what?” he snapped. “Lenora, she doesn’t need the distraction right now! You know how hard it is for her to stay away from him... how could you?”

“She shouldn’t have gone out alone in the first place,” she replied hotly, “and he has a right to try and make amends.”

Isaiah wasn’t convinced. “He’s already betrayed her once, how do you know we can trust him?”

“Because I know him,” Lenora responded confidently. “He’s a good man, one of the best. And because he loves her.”

It was nothing less than Isaiah suspected. He wanted Quinn to be happy, but first they needed to open the Rose Gate and release Eldon’s heir from the temple. They needed the Fae magic, now, more than ever. Daniel had made it clear that Drake was an enemy and, while Isaiah didn’t necessarily agree with him, he thought Quinn’s decision to send him away, at least until this was all over, was prudent.

“You know she cares for him, too,” Lenora continued when he didn’t respond.

“I know,” Isaiah nodded. “But the others will not be swayed. With the Guardianship in such a fragile state we cannot afford any discord among us.”

“And you, Isaiah? Are you keeping me at arm’s length for the same reason?” she asked boldly.

His silence spoke volumes. “In case you haven’t noticed, we are your people,” she snapped. “Drake and I may not wear that mark that you are so proud of, but we’re here, trying to help you.”

“I know that, and I know that it’s not without great risk. Surely you know how much I appreciate everything you are doing for...”

“I don’t want your appreciation,” she cut him off abruptly. “That’s the last thing I want from you. And, until you realise that, or man up enough to give me what I do want, perhaps we should just stay out of each other’s way.”

They gazed at each other, the passion between them so intensely private that neither noticed the red-headed girl passing by.

“I’ll get out of your way,” Isaiah murmured eventually. Lenora steeled herself not to call out to him as he turned his back to her. He walked away slowly, as though hoping she would.

Chapter 19

Monique blushed as she scuttled passed the kitchen, embarrassed to have witnessed such an intimate moment between her mentor and their host. She had been on her way to collect the duck livers for the Chumana hatchlings, but now she hovered a short way down the hall, uncertain of whether to go in or not. Fortunately, a moment later, Isaiah appeared. He didn’t seem to notice Monique cowering in embarrassment, and she heaved a sigh as he headed in the opposite direction, reflecting that, for such a controlled group of people, the Guardians really didn’t seem to have much control over who they fell in love with. Isaiah was obviously smitten with Lenora, and Monique, who was incredibly perceptive, had not missed the underlying tension between Quinn and the vampire, Drake. And then there was Monique herself. She had never even had a boyfriend before, and yet, a few short months into her Guardianship, she was dating a gypsy boy.

Monique jumped at the sound of Lenora’s voice. “You can come in now,” she called, and in the absence of anyone else in the vicinity, Monique figured it was addressed to her. Smiling apologetically, she slunk into the kitchen.

“Something smells good,” she said.

“Here,” Lenora handed her a plastic bucket, laden with raw liver. She was in an uncharacteristically dour mood. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour,” she added more gently, catching sight of Monique’s crestfallen face.

“I can’t wait,” Monique replied politely, before making a run for it.

As she fed Lucky and the other Chumana babies a feast of raw liver, she recalled her earlier conversation with Jonas. It had pricked her conscience that he was envious of her relationship with Velkan. Velkan was a kind, compassionate faery, but her interest in him went no further than their shared love of the wards. Technically, Velkan was one of the wards, and so her affection extended to him too. She cared deeply for him, but it pained her to learn that he had feelings for her and Monique figured the best way to resolve the problem was to find Velkan a new love interest. He had been so sad since Mairin’s death and Monique figured he missed having the constant companionship she had provided. Monique had noticed the painfully shy gypsy girl, Cosima, who seemed to be struggling to find her feet in this new motley community, and Monique thought her plan to bring them together was a brilliant one.

Washing her hands, she left Lucky and the other hatchlings. Balthazar had helped the Fae erect metal sheeting, inside the enormous barn that housed them, to protect the flammable wood and she smiled fondly at the scorch marks along the bottom. Lucky whined as she closed the door, scratching against it like an overlarge puppy. The other hatchlings had not imprinted on her as Lucky had, so they didn’t mourn her departure quite as dramatically.

Crossing the immaculate lawn, Monique spotted the Orochian sleeping near the front of the house. Keeping him close was proving the most difficult part of being here. Monique was riding him twice a day, guiding him away from the nearest town and toward the Alps that loomed south of Lenora’s property, but even so he would take off on his own every now and then. He wouldn’t eat anything offered to him, but the day before, the mutilated remains of a mountain deer had been discovered in the enormous swimming pool. Lenora’s pool man had been apoplectic with rage.

Determined to put her plan in motion sooner rather than later, Monique went in search of Cosima. The girl rarely left her room, and, as expected, she heard her timid reply when she rapped on the door.

“Hi,” Monique shut the door behind her as Cosima eyed her warily. “I’m sorry to interrupt...” she eyed the completely empty bedroom, “whatever it is you were doing,” she finished lamely.

“Is Rowena looking for me?” Cosima sounded nervous. Rowena had, only this morning, taken her to task for being so antisocial, and for not contributing to the day-to-day chores. The older woman felt it was the least they could do in return for their board and lodging, but Cosima was painfully shy and the thought of striking up conversation with the various inhabitants of the house was terrifying. The vampires scared her half to death and she found the Guardians intimidating.

“No,” Monique shook her head and Cosima exhaled a sigh of relief which was swiftly replaced by suspicion when Monique spoke again. “I actually wondered if you’d like to help me exercise the unicorns this afternoon.”

Rowena must have said something, was Cosima’s first logical thought. There was no other explanation for why Monique would suddenly enlist her services, and so, mindful of offending her mentor, Cosima reluctantly agreed.

Half an hour later she realised just how wrong she had been and was dying of mortification. Monique had slyly introduced her to Velkan, a faery that Cosima had only ever seen once or twice before and whom she now hoped she would never lay eyes on again. Subtlety was not Monique’s strong suit and it was abundantly clear to both of the unwilling victims of her good intentions what she was actually up to. Oblivious of their mutual discomfort, Monique urged Velkan to show Cosima the correct way to sit, and how best to guide the unicorns where she wanted them to go. Obligingly, he obeyed, but, as he caught Cosima’s eye and saw his own embarrassment reflected in her gaze, he smiled reassuringly.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Monique asked after Cosima had finally excused herself. She had torn back toward the house, desperate to get indoors and as far away from Monique and Velkan as she could.

“Please don’t ever do that again,” came Velkan’s curt reply. Monique was taken aback at the irritation in his voice. Like all of the Fae, Velkan was never in a temper but Monique had pushed him to the brink of his good-nature. “I don’t need you to play match-maker, Monique,” he continued, leading Etana back to her stable.

“I just thought that you and Cosima might...”

“You thought that by parading her in front of me I might transfer my affections from you to her?” It was the first time he had openly admitted feeling something for Monique and she didn’t know where to look. “Sadly, it’s not that simple, although I do accept that my feelings are unrequited. You should have left well enough alone, but instead, you embarrassed both Cosima and me.”

“I’m sorry.” Monique hung her head.

“As I said,” he softened slightly, “please don’t do it again.”

She fled then, too embarrassed to go back inside the house. The other Guardians had more important things to worry about and Jonas would only say “I told you so”. In frustration, Monique kicked out at a stone, sending it hurtling through the air. Following its trajectory, she gave a shriek of warning. Channon, who was also out for a walk, ducked just in time as the stone hurtled toward her forehead.

“Having a bad day?”Channon asked, with a completely straight face. Monique had clapped her hands to her mouth in horror and it took a few seconds before she recovered enough to drop them.

“I’m sorry,” she gulped, eventually.

“Don’t worry about it,” Channon eased, “no harm done. So, bad day?”

“Kind of.”

“Want to talk about it?”
“Um...” Faced with the prospect of venting, Monique was suddenly cringing at how trivial her problems sounded. “Not really,” she decided lamely.

“You sure?” Channon gave her an arch look and Monique nodded.

“Sure.”

“Okay, well I’m heading up to the house. You coming?”

“No,” Monique shook her head. “I’m going to walk for a bit.”

She spent the rest of the afternoon walking alone throughout the property. It was so vast, and so surrounded by vacant land that, at some points, she wasn’t sure where Lenora’s property ended and common ground began. She was mortified that her good intentions had gone so horribly wrong, and worse, had forced Velkan to admit his feelings for her, which would no doubt result in their relationship becoming a lot more awkward.

She was so deep in thought that she barely noticed night falling, but suddenly she got the unpleasant sensation that overwhelmed her whenever a vampire was nearby. Glancing around, expecting to find Lenora, or one of the vampires who served her alongside the human staff, she was shocked to see an unfamiliar vampire crossing the front lawn. His hair was cropped close to his skull, and the dark hue of his skin was obvious, even in the gloomy night. She wondered how he had gotten past the scouts. Watching as he stole up the steps onto the porch and snuck in through the front door, Monique immediately hastened around the back of the house and in through the kitchen entrance.

Chapter 20

Lenora had also witnessed Nicholai approaching, through the front window, and she moved to intercept him before he discovered any of the Guardians residing inside the house. The perimeter guards were well-accustomed to Nicholai and would not have thought to warn her of his approach. Ushering him into the small sitting-room off the hall, she rounded on him furiously.

“What are you doing here?” Lenora snapped. “I told you we were done.” She had sent Nicholai away shortly after Drake’s first visit. He had thrown a fit that she had treated Drake with more respect than she had ever shown him, and Lenora had grown weary of his constant need for approval.

Nicholai’s obsession with her, on the other hand, had only been fuelled by Lenora’s dismissal. Lenora was a very old, very powerful vampire, not to mention incredibly beautiful, and Nicholai had enjoyed the luxurious lifestyle being with her had afforded him. Convinced that she only needed time to cool off, he had obeyed her instruction, giving her some space before returning, intending to pick up where they left off. To his surprise, he had found more than he bargained for.

“Are you aware that there is a dragon on your front lawn?” he asked politely, picking up an antique vase and pretending to examine it.

“Are you aware that you are trespassing?”

Nicholai smiled smugly. “I have only returned home, my love.”

“This is my home,” she reminded him, haughtily. “And we both know the only love you have for me is a desire to share my wealth and power, neither of which I am prepared to share. So I would suggest you leave, immediately.”

“Where shall I go? To the council perhaps? I am sure they would reward me handsomely if I were to deliver the beast’s whereabouts. After all, there hasn’t been a dragon outside of the City for over a thousand years.” Nicholai was obviously unaware that Summerfeld had been destroyed.

“The dragon is mine,” Lenora warned.

“And the unicorns in the stables? I can smell them from here,” he drew in a deep breath through his nose. “Are those yours, too?”

“Actually, they’re mine,” a deep voice interrupted, and they turned to find Isaiah and Daniel standing in the doorway. At the sound of Isaiah’s voice, Lenora felt both safe, and fearful. It was the first time, since leaving the City, that their safe haven had been compromised. Nicholai would not sense the Guardians but she had hoped to avoid a confrontation.

A second later, Monique skidded to a halt beside them, too late to warn them, her eyes wide. She fixed her gaze on Nicholai, who set down the vase. A predatory smile curved his lips upward.

“Get her out of here,” Isaiah murmured, sensing trouble. “I can handle this.” Nodding, Daniel ushered Monique away.

“I’m sorry, I tried to warn you...” Lenora heard the girl apologising as they walked off.

“And who are you?” Nicholai sneered dismissively, gazing at Isaiah with disdain. Lenora almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Isaiah looked harmless enough in the clothes she had loaned him, but he was, after all the Slayer.

“He is my guest,” Lenora interrupted coldly. “Unlike you,” she added pointedly.

“Guest? A human guest? My my, we have stooped to a new level. The servants, I can understand, but entertaining humans, Lenora? It seems I need to reconsider my high esteem of you.”

Before she could answer, Isaiah spoke. “The lady asked you to leave.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but his feelings for Lenora were impossible to hide. Furious, Nicholai made his move toward Isaiah, but, at the last second, Lenora stepped between them, catching the brunt of his brutal blow. She was knocked aside, hitting the door frame beside Isaiah.

The sight of the blood on her swollen lip was too much for Isaiah, who grabbed the unsuspecting Nicholai by the throat at the same time he pulled the stake from his waistband. Nicholai saw only a flash of silver, before Isaiah thrust the stake through his heart with such force that it blossomed in a splash of red out of the other side.

Dropping the greying figure, Isaiah was at Lenora’s side in an instant. Helping her to her feet, he pushed aside her dark hair to assess the damage. The infinite tenderness in his eyes was worth the tiny hurt, she thought wryly.

“I’m sorry about the carpet,” he murmured, smiling down at her, and Lenora couldn’t suppress a grin.

“I knew you’d man up eventually,” she replied. Their faces were only inches apart. Isaiah had long memorised every line of her face, the dark, seaweed green of her eyes, and the full curve of her lower lip. She hadn’t changed a bit in five hundred years. Except for her hair. Shorter than he remembered, it made her seem harder.

“I preferred it long,” he murmured, lifting a strand off her face.

“Everything okay in here?” Daniel’s voice broke the spell, and Lenora steeled herself for the distance that Isaiah would put between them in the presence of another. To her surprise, he didn’t release her. Meeting Daniel’s gaze over her head, he nodded.

“It’s been handled.”

Casting an amused glance at the pile of ash on the expensive carpet, Daniel nodded.

“I can see that.” He lifted his gaze to them once more, and Lenora watched the conflicting emotions cross his face. He wasn’t particularly happy to find them in such a compromising position. She waited for him to speak his mind, but instead, he bid them a curt “Goodnight” before turning on his heel. They were alone, again, but the hollow echoing of Daniel’s steps as he walked away seemed to rouse Isaiah, and he slowly released her, drawing himself up to his full height. Daniel didn’t have to say anything, she thought bitterly, the disappointed look on his face had been enough. Furious, she willed herself to be quiet, but, as Isaiah stepped away her indignation won out.

“So, that’s it?” she snapped, her cheeks flaming. He turned slowly, his face a careful mask, revealing nothing. “One minute you’re the gallant knight coming to my defence, and the next you’re a sheep, blindly following everyone else’s lead.”

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that! I thought you were different... that you were better than the others.”

“What others?” he seemed to sense that this was about more than just the Guardians.

“All of them,” she confirmed. “Aleksei. Eldon. The vampires who blindly follow the Quest. The Guardians who hate every one of my kind regardless of whether or not it’s justified. Pick one; it doesn’t matter which. They’re all just as foolish as the next.” Her chest heaved, the emotional toll of her disappointment, and they simply stared at each other for a few moments, neither speaking a word. Then, to Lenora’s astonishment, Isaiah began to laugh. It started out as a chuckle, but soon grew to a hearty, deep-in-the-chest laugh, which shook his shoulders.

“What’s so funny?” Lenora asked, as he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes.

“You,” he admitted finally, taking a deep breath and sobering himself. A soft smile replaced the laughter on his lips and he stepped toward her. “You’re right. I’m an idiot. We all are.” Lenora shivered as his hand cupped her cheek. His eyes were still sparkling with humour, but beneath that she saw something deeper, something he had hidden from her since the day in the woods, and her heart skipped a beat as she recognised it for what it was.

“So you’re agreeing with me now?” she challenged.

“I am.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about that,” she morphed her features into an expression of feigned perplexity. “Without our arguing, where would the fun in this relationship be?” Isaiah didn’t reply. Instead, he showed her, with a kiss.

“Daniel wouldn’t be happy,” she breathed, when their lips parted. Her eyes were closed, her senses dulled, and she was grateful for the quiet strength of Isaiah’s arms around her waist. She was certain they were the only thing holding her up.

“Everything has changed,” Isaiah whispered, his own heart beating contentedly in his chest. “Daniel knows that. Deep down, we all know that. I do think, however, that we shouldn’t exactly rub everyone’s noses in it. Not just yet, anyway.”

Lenora sighed. She understood. The Guardians were in a precarious situation. They needed to be strong; united, if they stood any chance at surviving. Isaiah was telling her that he loved her, that he wanted to be with her, but he couldn’t commit to a relationship right now, not when what was at stake was so much bigger than the both of them. It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but it was enough. For now.

Chapter 21

Quinn’s stomach was churning as they pulled into a motel. She had resigned herself to the fact that she would spend another night with Drake. They had made good time and should get back to Lenora’s by lunch the next day, if they left early enough. The thought of dealing with the fall-out of Daniel’s rage and the confrontation between him and Drake was not something she was looking forward to.

“I’ll get my own room,” Austin announced when he realised that Drake would be bunking with them.

“We should all stay together,” Quinn insisted.

“I spent four years with the Marines, I can take care of myself.”

“Is that where you got that?” she gestured at his tattoo.

“No,” he shook his head. “I got it after.”

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” she probed.

“Only one, for now. Why me?”

“Your ancestor – Blair Lindberg – she was killed a few days ago. You were chosen as her replacement.”

“What happened to her?”

Quinn cast a discreet glance across the lot where Drake was standing. She knew he could hear her. She doubted she could keep his role in Blair’s death a secret for long, but this wasn’t the time or the place to get into it with Austin.

“The vampires discovered the City’s location. Blair was killed in the battle that followed.” Austin nodded curtly, as though the conversation was over. “Before you go,” Quinn stopped him as he started toward the room next to hers, “you may have served in the Marines, but vampires aren’t as easy to kill as people. You’ll need this.” She pressed a stake into his hand. “Drake will know if any vampires come near us even before we do, so the chances are you won’t have to use it.”

Austin gazed at the stake which was in pristine condition despite being centuries old, taking in the ornate markings along the side. Quinn was astounded by his self-control. She had already been exposed to the Guardians way of life when she was branded, but Austin knew almost nothing. She wondered if it was simply because of his military background that he was so accepting of what had happened and could wait for a full explanation.

“Thanks.” Casting one more curious look at Drake, Austin shouldered his bag and disappeared into his room.

It took Quinn a long time to fall asleep. She was acutely aware of Drake in the next bed, so close that if she reached out her arm she could touch him. No doubt everyone back home, at Lenora’s, would know that they had shared a room by tomorrow, and she wasn’t sure how she would explain it. It angered her that she even felt the need to explain it. Risking a quick glance over, she saw that Drake was sleeping, or at least he appeared to be. His left hand was hanging over the side of his bed as if reaching toward her in his sleep. He had really nice hands, she noticed, strong hands, with long, lean fingers and nails that were short and neat. She knew so little about him, other than that he was stronger and more powerful than any vampire she had ever encountered. She also knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would protect her with his life. Quinn rolled onto her back, letting her own hand fall into the space between them. She finally fell asleep to the sound of his breathing, their hands only inches apart.

When she woke in the morning, Drake was leaning on the edge of the dresser, watching her intently.

“Morning,” she murmured, sitting up and swinging her bare legs off the bed. Her nightshirt had gotten hitched up in her pants during the night and she quickly pulled it down, covering a broad expanse of naked thigh.

“What happened to letting me get ready in private?” she mused, yawning as she headed for the bathroom. He didn’t answer, but his eyes never left her legs. Unnerved, Quinn shut the door behind her.

When she emerged, her wet hair slicked back off her face, he was still in the same position. She wished she knew what was going through that complicated head of his. Slipping her stake into her boot, she realised her bag lay at his feet. She was almost certain she had left it on her bed. Determined not to show how disconcerted she felt, she went to retrieve it, but as she straightened up she found herself close to him. Too close. His eyes met hers and held her gaze, and Quinn found herself holding her breath. She felt heady, as though her ears were stuffed with cotton wool, and her limbs had turned to jelly.

Drake deliberately pushed away from the dresser, standing upright, and the movement brought his body even closer to hers. They stood face to face, so close that she could feel the warmth of his body even though they weren’t touching. Every nerve ending in her body screamed to close the infinitesimal space between them.

“What’s happening?” she whispered, a shiver running through her.

“I have no idea,” his voice was hoarse, but he made no move to step away.

His face loomed before her, his eyes dominating her vision, and Quinn knew that when he touched her she would lose herself. She had no idea of the inner battle he fought, trying desperately not to act on his desire, to leave her while he still could, but the temptation was too great. Slowly, inch by precious inch, he lowered his dark head. Quinn’s lips parted, her eyes closing and a surge of triumph coursed through him. In the instant that his lips brushed hers, a jolt of energy passed between them, at the same moment that the door burst open.

They leapt apart, Quinn’s cry a blend of surprise and dismay. Drake clenched his hands into fists as he watched her struggling to get a hold on her emotions. Austin stood in the doorway, watching them both.

“You said six,” Austin grunted. “I was worried something might have happened.” The look he gave Drake made it clear exactly where his concern lay.

“I’m fine,” Quinn assured him, trying to gather her wits about her. “We were just on our way out.” She deliberately fixed her gaze at a point near her feet, but if she had looked up, she would have seen just how much it pained Drake that she would not meet his eyes.

The drive back to Lenora’s was the most awkward journey of Quinn’s life. As soon as they were in the car, Austin’s bike roaring to life behind them, Drake brought up the subject of what had happened. Fortunately, Quinn was prepared.

“Are we going to discuss what just happened in there?”

“No,” she answered so quickly that his head jerked in her direction.

“No? Are you honestly going to pretend that I’m the only one who felt that?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She skirted the question. To deny it would be an outright lie.

“Of course you don’t,” he sighed wearily. “Because any time we get even close to penetrating that indestructible Guardian armour of yours, you put your tail between your legs and run for the hills.”

He was furious. Quinn could hear it in the tone of his voice. She didn’t blame him; the physical reaction they had had to one another defied logic and she wanted answers just as badly as he did, but she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t open herself up to the possibility of anything between them. It was too selfish and far too dangerous. The wards were in a fragile position and the Guardians needed to be united, now, more than ever. So instead, she remained silent, keeping her thoughts to herself and letting him believe the worst of her.

When they finally pulled into Lenora’s drive, she slowed to a halt and switched off the engine.

“I need you to go,” she finally turned to face him. “It’s better if I tell them alone. You can speak to Daniel,” she added, as a small frown crossed his brow, “but this isn’t the way to do it. Let me speak to them first. Stay close – I’ll call you just as soon as I’ve explained everything and made sure that he’ll stop long enough to listen.”

The growling of the motorcycle engine behind them broke the oppressive silence, as Austin revved the throttle impatiently, and, in the time it took Quinn to turn and signal that she would only be a minute, Drake was gone.

Braddon was the first to reach the car, and his relief at having her back safely was second only to his shock at finding a new Guardian in tow. Isaiah immediately gathered everyone together in the large dining-room. Quinn noticed that Lenora, Balthazar, the wolves and a few members of the Fae were also called, and it struck her that change was well and truly upon them. No longer was Guardian business confined to the ranks of those branded with Eldon’s charmed tattoos. Every person in this room had proven themselves worthy of protecting the wards. They were united by a common enemy. She also noticed that, while everyone else pretended not to, something had changed between Isaiah and their host. It wasn’t anything she could put her finger on, but small things, the way Isaiah held out Lenora’s chair, the way her hand brushed his as she turned to thank him. Quinn wasn’t too surprised. She alone knew the depth of their feelings for one another and if they had decided to act on those feelings she was happy for them.

Quinn remained silent as Isaiah explained everything to Austin. More than once she caught Lenora staring at her thoughtfully, but she averted her gaze, knowing full well that Lenora wanted news of Drake. Usually, new recruits were briefed alone, but Austin took everything in his stride, maintaining an outward calm that impressed everyone present. Quinn wondered once again if his military background had anything to do with it.

Invariably, the conversation turned to the allies present in the room; the gypsies, the vampires, and the reason for them being there. Sensing where the conversation was headed and before Austin could bring it up, Quinn spoke.

“Drake was with me when we found Austin,” she announced. It came out defensively and Quinn cringed. From the reactions of the others, it was obvious that this was startling news to everyone, with the exception of Lenora and Isaiah.

“Drake is an enemy of Summerfeld,” Daniel reminded her eventually, his body going rigid with anger.

“There is no Summerfeld,” Quinn replied calmly. “The City is gone, and the only way to save the wards is to open the Rose Gate. We need all the help we can get. And I trust him,” she added defiantly.

“I agree with Quinn,” Isaiah said, ignoring Daniel’s look of disgust. “We should not turn away those who would help us. We cannot do this alone.” The fact that none of them would be here if it weren’t for Lenora, was directly implied.

“Drake has requested a meeting,” Quinn continued, her eyes never leaving Daniel’s face. “He would like to speak with you, personally.”

“No.” It was final.

“You may decline,” Isaiah pointed out, “but you cannot speak for all of us. I, for one, would like to hear what he has to say.”

“So would I.” Braddon’s words surprised Quinn more than anything else.

“Me too,” Piper announced bravely, and, one by one, the Guardians nodded their agreement. Only the other Hunters; Daniel, Liam and Garrett remained uncompromising.

Quinn took a deep breath. “There is one more thing you should all know. Drake is not like other vampires. Sunlight doesn’t affect him. He’s a day walker.” In the chaos that followed this revelation she got to her feet. “It is not my story to tell,” she insisted, in answer to the barrage of questions being fired at her. “I will arrange a meeting tomorrow morning. He can tell us himself.”

Isaiah got to his feet, too, silencing everyone with a wave of his hand.

“Never before have we been so vulnerable,” he began, in his rich, soothing voice. “Summerfeld has fallen, and many of our precious wards along with it. But, at the same time, never before have we been so united. We have forged new friendships and unlikely alliances, but the prophecy speaks of the trials of change and I believe that time is upon us. This war is coming to an end and there is no doubt that we will suffer terrible losses. We may not all live to see the Rose Temple opened,” the words were sombre, “but Wintyr will be released and all the magic of the Fae along with him. The City is gone, but Summerfeld will live on. We will prevail.”

In the silence that followed, Quinn was struck by the fact that there was no victorious outcry, no loud, uproarious agreement, but instead, a sense of silent camaraderie. Lenora took Isaiah’s hand, and Braddon clapped Balthazar on the back. Piper wiped away a tear, and a look of grim resolve settled on her sweet face. Isaiah was right; they were united, more than ever before. Tristan had betrayed them but he had unwittingly brought them all closer together, and together, they could achieve the impossible.

As they slowly dispersed, Quinn headed upstairs, wanting nothing more than to take a shower and sleep, but first, she needed to let Drake know that the others had agreed to hear him out. Pulling her phone from the drawer where she had left it, she saw her battery was about to die. A small envelope flashed on the top left of the screen, signalling a message. She dialled voicemail, expecting to hear an irate message from one of the others for leaving her phone behind. Instead, what she heard sent an icy terror down her spine. The message was short and the voice was not one she had ever expected to hear again.

“Quinn?” The terror was undeniable. “Quinn!”

A click sounded, signalling the end of the message and the phone dropped from her hand, landing on the carpet near her feet as her legs collapsed beneath her. There was no mistaking that voice.

Avery.

Chapter 22

Inside the City of Summerfeld, preparations were being made to leave. Aleksei would be staying at Charlotte’s home while she and the others did his dirty work. Charlotte was still seething over his blunt and cruel dismissal of her, and the thought of bowing to his every whim had lost a lot of appeal. Charlotte was used to getting her own way. She had envisaged Aleksei being eternally grateful for everything she had achieved; had deluded herself with aspirations of becoming queen of their race and ruling at his side. It never occurred to her that she would be just another servant in his nameless, faceless army. Charlotte bristled with righteous indignation. After everything she had accomplished she would have her reward, and, if Aleksei would not grant it, she would seek it through other means.

“Sloane,” she crooned, as he opened his door. If he was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it. Charlotte had been so convinced she could seduce Aleksei, she had made her intentions fairly obvious. The bitter burn of humiliation washed over her, but she cast it aside, smiling up at the councilman. He moved aside so she could enter the house he had occupied since his arrival. There was a small cradle beside the sofa and Charlotte felt heady as the lingering scent of faery assaulted her senses.

“Did we find the child?” she asked, wondering which of her people had experienced the pleasure of feeding on a faery baby.

“Not to my knowledge.”

Charlotte sighed, “A pity.” She moved across the room to the tiny kitchen. The musky scent of wolf was faintly detectable here. “It appears that their friendships transcend species,” she mused aloud.

“They were always close,” Sloane told her. “Before the war, we all lived in harmony with one another.” He noticed how she curled her lip in disdain, a reminder of her youth. She did not know anything, this gorgeous, feckless, creature. All she knew was blood and lust.

“What do you want?” he asked eventually, when it seemed she would not get to the point of her visit.

“Do I need a reason to see you?” she feigned hurt.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what your true intentions are. Don’t,” he held up a hand, silencing her. “I may not be immune to your charms but do not take me for a fool. You used me to get onto the council, which I had no problem with, seeing as how I was handsomely rewarded,” he dipped his head graciously, “but you have your seat now. So I guess my question, Charlotte, is what else is it that you want?”

Charlotte chose her words carefully. If she said too much, she would be committing blatant treason.

“I am concerned for your safety,” she said, injecting just a trace of fretful unease into her voice. “Aleksei has assigned you a dangerous mission.”

“He has,” Sloane agreed gravely, although in truth, the mission to source weapons from mankind was not dangerous at all. It was simply below him, as Charlotte well knew.

“I do wonder why he couldn’t have sent someone less,” she paused, as if searching for the right word, “valuable to perform this task. Perhaps he doesn’t realise your worth?” she let the question hang in the space between them. To her satisfaction, a resentful frown creased Sloane’s brow, making it clear that the same thought had occurred to him.

“I am sure he has his reasons,” he replied, sounding far less sure of himself. “Perhaps he simply needed someone he could trust. I have, after all, been in his inner circle for centuries.” Sloane’s arrogance had always been his downfall, Charlotte thought wryly, but she saw through his facade. The councilman was furious.

“Which is why I thought he would prefer to keep you here, at his side,” she pointed out archly, “instead of sending you out like a common henchman. After all your years of service,” she shook her head, indignantly, “I would expect him to treat you with a little more regard. The way that he speaks to you is most offensive, given how much we have done for him.” Again she fell silent. Sloane could not know that she was holding her breath, waiting to see if her ploy had worked. His face remained impassive, but she could practically hear the cogs of his mind working.

“Forgive me,” Charlotte spoke, before he could fully comprehend her veiled accusation, “I should not question our master’s decisions. It was foolish of me to have come, I only wished to see you before you left and wish you safe travels.” Without waiting for an answer she swept toward the door.

“Charlotte!” he called her back as she reached the threshold and Charlotte’s lips curved into a knowing smile. Composing her features, she turned to face him.

“Yes?”

“Close the door.” Once she had complied, he continued. “It is true that Aleksei disgraces me in front of the others,” he admitted, drawing her into his own self-absorbed sense of pride, “but there is not much I can do about it.” There was an underlying question in his words and Charlotte seized the invitation willingly.

“There is something we could do,” she murmured, stepping closer.

“I’m listening.” He would have her speak first, she realised, so that if she was not on the same page, he could feign ignorance or outright disapproval.

“Aleksei is not the king we envisaged,” Charlotte came clean. “I am starting to realise that perhaps he is not the best person to rule us, after all.”

“I tend to agree,” Sloane admitted, and just like that, an alliance was formed, born, not of respect for each other, but of a mutual enmity toward another.

As Charlotte picked her way through the cobbled streets toward Tristan’s house, she wondered how she could best use Sloane to her advantage. Aleksei had spurned her, made it obvious that she would never be treated any differently to the legion of vampires he commanded, let alone ever rule at his side. After everything she had achieved, this was unacceptable. She would do his bidding because she had little choice, but she would make him pay.

Tristan was not happy to hear of their plan to leave the City.

“We shouldn’t leave yet,” he insisted. As much as he wanted out of Summerfeld, he would never be truly free until this war was over, and that would only happen when the wards were destroyed. New Guardians stood between the vampires and that goal, Guardians who would report here when they were branded. Charlotte took a seat on the sofa, accepting the glass of red wine she had demanded. She eyed the massive painting of Avery with a look of pure loathing. In truth, it was Avery’s twin sister, Quinn, who she hated most, but the resemblance between them was remarkable and, as she gazed upon Avery’s portrait, she saw only Quinn, and the triumphant look in her eyes when Drake had chosen her over Charlotte.

“Why?’ she asked eventually, tearing her eyes from the image.

“Lucas and Blair both died in the battle. Their new Guardian replacements will have been branded instantly, and as soon as they have retrieved their crystals they will report here,” Tristan explained.

“We will leave a small contingent here to wait, while we search for the others,” Charlotte pointed out. “Any new Guardians will be imprisoned, not killed, so that the threat is contained. Besides, Aleksei doesn’t believe the crystals are of any importance anymore. He is satisfied that as long as we have yours, the Guardians cannot open the Rose Gate.” Tristan didn’t respond to the mention of the Gateway that would open the Rose Temple. Knowing he needed leverage in case Charlotte went back on her word to keep him safe, he had kept its location a secret.

A knock at the door distracted them both and Tristan moved to open it, knowing that Charlotte would never deign to do so. He recognised the vampire at the door as one of her many personal henchmen, and stepped aside, allowing him in.

“Miss Charlotte, there’s been an incident,” the vampire stammered, and Charlotte narrowed her eyes.

“Leave us,” she instructed Tristan, who had to vacate his own home so that she could have her privacy. A minute later he heard the sound of glass smashing and he bolted back inside. Charlotte was on her feet, quivering with rage. Across the room, on the floor below Avery’s portrait, lay the shattered remains of her glass. Wine dripped from the canvas onto the floor and Tristan felt his own temper flare at the sight of the ruined painting.

“What happened?” he asked, as the male vampire beat a hasty retreat.

“It would seem your errant wife has escaped,” Charlotte growled.

“What?” Forgetting himself, Tristan took a step toward her. Charlotte extended her fangs and he stopped, only a few feet away. “You promised me my wife would be safe!” he hissed, clenching his fists into balls at his sides.

“Your wife murdered one of my oldest servants!” Charlotte retaliated. She was seething. Not only had Avery escaped the dungeon, but she had killed Frederick, Charlotte’s oldest, most loyal servant.

When she had sent for most of her mansion staff to assist in the attack on Summerfeld, she had left Frederick to watch over the Guardian. Confined to the dungeon prison, weakened, and in no state to defend herself, Charlotte had believed the woman would be of little concern until they returned, but she had underestimated Avery. Just as she had underestimated her bitch of a sister who had stolen Drake away from right under her nose. Charlotte vowed she would kill them both, personally.

“How could you let this happen?” Tristan was unconcerned with Frederick’s demise.

“In case you have forgotten, I kept your wife alive, even when you failed to get her to confess the location of her crystal!” she hissed furiously. “We should have just killed her then.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal! Avery was to be kept safe until all this is over.”

“Well, seeing as she managed to break out of her cell, killing a few of my staff in the process, it would appear that she doesn’t appreciate your husbandly concern,” Charlotte taunted.

“We made a deal!” Tristan repeated, his brain still trying to process the fact that, after all this time, Avery had escaped.

“Yes, I know. You would help me win this war, and, when all the wards had been destroyed and the Guardian charm was broken, I would compel your wife to forget everything about it and you could play happy family with your brats until you both grew old and died,” Charlotte sneered, “I remember.”

Taking a seat, she smoothed back her dark hair and lowered her voice. “Might I remind you how much trouble I have gone to for you? Do you think it was easy finding someone so like her for Caleb and Tane to maul that the Guardians would believe her dead? Replicating her tattoo so that they wouldn’t question her identity? I would think you might be a little more grateful.”

Tristan pulled at his own unruly blond hair.

“You have to find her,” he insisted. “She couldn’t have got far. Your men can still bring her back.”

“I will have my people scour the area,” Charlotte relented, “but she’s got a head start.” She was infinitely relieved that she had not told Aleksei of Avery’s confinement. If he had known, his fury on learning of her escape would be terrifying.

“You have to find her!” Tristan repeated frantically.

“Calm down!” Charlotte warned. “It doesn’t matter if we don’t find her because she’ll come to us, remember? After all, Avery doesn’t know the City has fallen.”

Her words made sense and went a long way toward calming Tristan. Avery would head straight for Summerfeld. The Guardians changed their phones every year and she would have no way of contacting any of the others. The only logical course of action would be for her to come here.

“I’m not leaving until she gets here,” he murmured.

“You will leave when I say so,” Charlotte corrected. “The sentries who remain will take her into custody when she arrives.”

“She is my wife!”

“That may be true, but I need you with me. We are hunting the Guardians and your knowledge will come in handy. Besides,” she smiled cruelly, “I doubt that Avery will be happy to see you.”

This was a low blow. Tristan had done everything he could to coerce Avery into telling him where she had hidden her crystal. He had begged and pleaded but Avery had laughed in his face. Then he had discovered that she had left a note for Quinn, and his determination had turned to desperation. He had even stood by and watched while Charlotte tortured her, in the frantic hope that she would submit, but she had not. He had underestimated her strength, believing her to be the softer of the two sisters, but Avery had proved she was more like Quinn than he had ever thought. She had smiled in the face of intolerable cruelty, until she had blacked out from the pain, only to wake up and go through it all again. Tristan had endured it all, watching her suffer and hating himself for it, but knowing that one day she would forget and their love would prevail. When it became evident that Avery would never reveal the location of her crystal, Charlotte had mentioned the children and using them as a means to make Avery talk, and Tristan had realised that something had to be done. He had planted false information inside the Guardianship, sowing seeds of doubt and fear, knowing they would bring Quinn in and remove the children to a place of safety where Charlotte could not reach them. When Quinn had discovered Avery’s hiding place, he had turned his attention to seducing her.

Everything Tristan had done had been for his family. He loved Avery more than life itself, but she had not agreed to his plan, and so he had had to remove her from the equation until it was all over. He wanted a normal life; to be with his children and his wife and he didn’t care how many Guardians or wards had to die in the process. All that mattered was his family.

Chapter 23

Quinn sat amidst the chaos waging around her, completely detached. The Guardians were in a state of shock, trying to make sense of it all, but Quinn could feel nothing. She had insulated herself in a cocoon of single-minded purpose, as she watched Piper, working on a laptop a few feet away.

“It’s not possible.” Quinn heard her father’s voice rise above the others. She couldn’t blame him for his reaction upon hearing her sister’s voice. It was impossible because Avery had been killed over two years ago. Avery had died, and yet, it was her voice which had left a voice message on Quinn’s cell phone; the same phone which Quinn had kept for year; that at one time only Avery had known about. Quinn had tried calling the number back but there had been no answer. Piper was working furiously trying to trace the number back to its source.

“Quinn, it’s a trap!” Isaiah tried once more to reason with her but his words fell on deaf ears. “Your sister is gone, you know that! The vampires are trying to lure you out. We know they have your number, thanks to Tristan.” Isaiah might be the Guardian she trusted and admired the most, but she could not bring herself to consider his warning. Hitting the speaker on her phone she replayed the message, the desperation in Avery’s voice impossible to miss.

“It’s Avery’s voice,” she insisted. “And this number was known only to the two of us until just recently. It hasn’t changed; she would know it.” The Guardians changed their phones every year, for security reasons, but Quinn had always kept this number so that she and Avery could communicate privately. When she had destroyed her Guardian phone, she had started using it instead, but Piper had ensured it was as untraceable as her previous one.

“We need to burn our phones,” Daniel interrupted, and Quinn snatched hers away as he reached for it.

“Our phones aren’t traceable,” she retorted.

“We can’t take any chances.”

“My sister called this number,” Quinn growled. “If you think for one second that I’ll destroy this phone, you’re crazy.”

“Your sister is dead,” Daniel’s voice was harsh, “she didn’t call you. This is a diabolical scheme to lure us out and you’re falling for it. Now give me your phone.” He leaned toward her and Quinn got to her feet, just as Braddon came to stand beside her.

“You’re not touching that phone, Daniel.” Her father’s words stunned her. Braddon had always been an exemplary Guardian, following the rules to the last letter and always respecting the decision of the group. Now, however, his protective stance and his resolute expression made it clear that he would not back down.

“I’ve got it!” Piper’s cry from across the room broke the mounting tension and Quinn rushed over to her, peering over her shoulder to look at the screen. “The call came from a phone in Glenashley; I have the address.” Hastily she scrawled it on a piece of paper while Quinn thought fast. Glenashley was not too far from where they were. If she left now and drove through the night she could make it there by sundown tomorrow.

“I’m going,” she announced, snatching the paper as Piper raised it over her head.

“I’m coming with you,” Braddon agreed, just as the other Guardians started to protest. In the conflict that followed, nobody noticed Lenora pull her own phone from her pocket and raise it to her ear.

The Guardians joined forces against Quinn, trying to make her see reason.

“Avery’s replacement has never come forward,” she replied evenly, using logic to her advantage. “We’ve always believed it was because something had changed, or that something had gone wrong with the charm; but now we know the truth. A new Guardian never came forward because Avery didn’t die that day.”

“Quinn, her body...” Isaiah began gently, but Quinn cut him short.

“It’s not her body! Avery left me the note – the one that led me to her crystal. Why would she do that?” she asked them at large. “I always thought it was strange that she would leave a clue to her crystal’s whereabouts. It was almost as if she knew a replacement wouldn’t be coming forward to find it. I think she knew she was in trouble.”

Nobody said a word after that, but both Daniel and Isaiah followed her to her room as she packed a small bag, shoving Lenora’s donated clothes into it with barely a thought.

“Quinn, you are putting us all in danger,” Daniel tried once more to get through to her.

“I’ll dump the phone the second I find her,” Quinn replied, throwing a handful of stakes on top of the jumble of clothing inside the bag and zipping it up. “Until then, if they do trace it, at least it won’t be anywhere near here.”

“Don’t do this,” Isaiah pleaded, his approach far more gentle than Daniel’s. “Your sister is gone. Her body lies in the Cliffdale cemetery.” It had only been a few weeks since Isaiah had exhumed Avery’s body and discovered that the cause of her death had been wolf bites, not those of a vampire as they had all believed.

“I know Avery’s voice,” Quinn met his gaze levelly. “And if there is even the slightest chance that my sister is still alive, do you really think I could let it go? Would you, Isaiah, if it was someone you loved? Or you Daniel?”

“No one person is worth the lives of the wards,” Daniel replied resolutely.

“What if it was Emily?” Quinn persisted, and she watched as the blood drained from his face. Emily had been the love of Daniel’s life.

“Is there anything you wouldn’t have done for her?” Quinn taunted. She had only just learned that Daniel had been the one who had killed Charlotte when she was still human. To be fair, Drake had explained that it hadn’t been intentional, but Quinn didn’t care. Daniel’s rage at Emily’s death had blinded him, and he had done things that were inconceivable. There was no doubt in her mind that, if their roles were reversed, Daniel would be doing exactly the same thing as she was now. “If it was Emily, you would go,” she finished lamely, not wanting him to know how much she knew about the night Charlotte had been killed.

They stared at her, neither prepared to argue when they knew she was right. Daniel also sensed that Quinn knew more than she was letting on, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

“You burn the phone the second you realise you’re wrong,” he instructed.

“I’ll burn the phone the second I find her,” Quinn corrected, pushing past him and heading for the door.

Downstairs she found bedlam. Drake stood in the hall, with Lenora and all of her vampire staff before him, facing the Guardians. Quinn met Drake’s eyes and she hastened down the stairs, forcing her way through the Guardians to stand between the two clearly separate groups. Despite everyone, except Daniel and the other Hunters, having agreed to hearing Drake out, his sudden and unexpected arrival had the Guardians on high alert, and Quinn could sense that one wrong move by either party would result in a full-scale attack.

“Enough!” Isaiah roared, coming to stand beside Quinn. “What is going on?”

“What is he doing here?” Daniel had also found his way to her side, and he eyed Drake with ill-concealed loathing.

“Lenora called me,” Drake explained, ignoring Daniel completely and speaking directly to Quinn. “Glenashley is where I first met Charlotte; her family home is there.” His eyes held hers as his meaning became clear. Charlotte had Avery. Quinn felt her loathing for Charlotte rise like thunder in her chest. She had witnessed Charlotte’s capacity for cruelty firsthand, and the thought of her sister in that monster’s clutches made her faint with fear. “You’ll need me,” Drake continued quietly.

“Okay,” Quinn relented quickly. If Drake knew where Charlotte lived she would get there that much quicker. Searching for her father’s face she found him at the edge of the group of Guardians. “Let’s go,” she told him.

“Wait a minute!” Daniel stopped her by pressing a hand to her shoulder and Drake stepped forward menacingly at the physical gesture. “We agreed to a meeting with this vampire,” Daniel reminded Quinn, “Nothing more. He cannot go with you until we have all decided that he is trustworthy.” A murmur of assent ran through the Guardian ranks.

“There’s no time for that, now,” Quinn insisted, shrugging his hand off her, but before she could take another step he seized her wrist.

“Let her go,” Drake growled ominously. “I will explain myself to you when we return, but if you think that you will keep me from protecting her, then you would do well to draw your stake.”

Nobody moved, as the two men faced each other, their mutual enmity crackling between them like emotional electricity. Eventually, Isaiah placed a hand on Daniel’s shoulder, jolting him back into the present.

“Let them go,” Isaiah’s voice was calm and Daniel’s shoulders relaxed as he forced his emotions under control. Quinn didn’t hesitate. Pushing past the others, she ran through the open front door, with Drake and her father right behind her.

Chapter 24

Aleksei stood alone in the Cathedral training room, his eyes roaming freely over the assortment of weaponry the Guardians had been collecting for centuries. Weapons made to destroy him and his people. He was so close, finally, to fulfilling the promise he had made to Eldon all those years ago, but still, his frustration was mounting. Wards had escaped, and now they would have to be hunted down. Tristan’s warning that if mankind learned of their existence they might intervene also discomfited Aleksei. He feared no man, but they had weapons that could be used against him. The dragons still needed to be dealt with, but they were scattering, making it harder to eliminate them all. Deep in thought, Aleksei had retreated to the training room to be alone.

When Sloane interrupted him, it did nothing to improve his foul temper.

“What is it?” he snapped, as the councilman bowed low in the doorway.

“I am sorry to disturb you, my Lord, but there is something you need to see.” Knowing that Sloane would not dare call for him unless it was important, Aleksei followed him back to the main hall.

To his surprise, a man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties sat on one of the council chairs, his wrists and ankles bound. He glared hatefully at all of them, but Aleksei noticed with a smug satisfaction, there was also fear in his brown eyes.

“He arrived a few minutes ago,” Sloane explained. “To replace one of the Guardians who was killed in the fighting.”

“His crystal?” Aleksei asked immediately, as Charlotte and Tristan stepped into the Cathedral.

The young man watched in dismay as Sloane handed Aleksei a thin jagged amethyst fragment.

“What is your name?” Aleksei demanded. When the stranger said nothing, he inclined his head at Tristan, who stepped forward, pressing his stake brutally into the young man’s cheek.

“Your name,” Tristan hissed. The young Guardian’s eyes widened as they fell on Tristan’s white tattoo.

“Oliver,” he conceded, in obvious confusion.

“As you can see, Oliver,” Aleksei continued pleasantly, as Tristan lowered the stake, “you have arrived a little too late for the party. Your friends have fled and I now control your City... and your education,” he added ominously.

Oliver ignored him, his eyes never leaving Tristan’s face. Despite his confusion, he knew without knowing how, that he felt an unwavering loyalty to this man, although it was apparent that the feeling was not mutual.

“Why are you doing this?” Oliver stammered.

“I have my reasons,” Tristan replied coldly. “What are we going to do with him?” he added, turning to Aleksei.

“Well, we want him alive, unfortunately. So long as we have him, unharmed, no replacement will come forward. And so, the Guardians are down to nine,” he mused, delighting in the fact.

Neither Charlotte nor Tristan corrected him. He and Oliver were both here, and it had long been known throughout the vampire community that a Guardian had fallen and never been replaced, although only the two of them, and a handful of Charlotte’s loyal servants knew the real reason for this; that Avery was not dead. Neither Tristan nor Charlotte felt much like enlightening Aleksei, or telling him that there was a possibility that Avery might find her way back to the other Guardians.

“Take him away,” Sloane ordered the hovering vampires, sensing Aleksei was finished with Oliver for now. Far from grateful, Aleksei rounded on him.

“You are still here, Sloane? Didn’t I give you a job to do?”

“I was just leaving, my Lord,” Sloane bit out through clenched teeth. His eyes found Charlotte’s and she gave him a knowing look, which he couldn’t return, mindful of Aleksei’s scrutiny.

After Sloane had gone and Aleksei had returned to the weapons room, Tristan rounded on Charlotte.

“What exactly is your plan if Avery does return?” he asked. “Don’t you think Aleksei will question her and figure out you have held her captive for over two years?” Charlotte had been thinking the same thing and had privately concluded that the simplest solution was to kill Avery before she breathed a word to anybody, but instead, she offered another plan.

“I’ll have my men surround the valley,” she murmured. “They’ll find her before anyone else and make sure that nobody knows about it. I’ll have her taken somewhere else, not back to the manor.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Tristan took a certain amount of pleasure in the fact that for once, Charlotte was not in control, and taking just as big a risk as he had. “Because if he does find out; you’re dead.”

“If I were you, I’d be more concerned about yourself and your precious wife,” she retorted, but Tristan only smiled.

“Ah, but you forget, Charlotte... Aleksei wants the Guardians alive.”

In a foul temper, Charlotte made her way to the small home that was housing their prisoners. It was almost a mirror-image of Tristan’s quarters and must have belonged to a Guardian.

As she entered the living-room, the three human prisoners stiffened although the Guardian, Oliver, eyed her far less fearfully than the gypsies.

“Get out,” Charlotte snapped at the vampire watching over them, and he hastened outside. Ignoring Oliver and Zebulon, Charlotte untied the woman sitting between them.

“Cara, my dear,” she purred. “It’s time for you to prove yourself.” As she straightened up, she caught the enraged eyes of Cara’s husband.

“Is there something you want to say, Zebulon?” she asked, her voice losing some of its sweetness. Leaning closer, the scent of human blood assailed her, and Charlotte realised she hadn’t fed since yesterday. Without a second’s thought, she nuzzled his neck, her fangs extended.

“No!” Cara yelled, seizing Charlotte’s shoulders. Straightening up, Charlotte rounded on her. “My, my, but we are protective,” she taunted. “Don’t worry yourself, pet, I only wanted a taste.”

“Don’t you lay your filthy hands on him,” Cara warned, bravely.

“I’m hungry,” Charlotte pointed out wryly. “Unless you would like to oblige?” she raised a suggestive eyebrow and Cara shuddered, her skin crawling. She had always known that vampires existed, but she had never believed she would be standing before one. None of the stories did justice to their evil. Seeing Charlotte’s gaze flicker hungrily back to Zebulon, Cara braced herself and slowly tilted her head, exposing her neck.

Charlotte was surprised and impressed by the girl’s courage, but she would not allow her her dignity. Stepping forward, she smiled lasciviously and lifted her finger, pulling down Cara’s top and exposing her naked breast. Zebulon yelled in anger, struggling against the ropes that bound him, as Charlotte lowered her head, her fangs piercing the tender flesh. Suckling gently, Charlotte felt a thrill come over her as Cara’s tears of shame splashed onto her face.

When she had drunk her fill, she straightened up, licking the last vestige of blood from her lips.

“Shall we go?” she asked pleasantly, and Cara covered herself up, casting one last mournful look at her husband before gathering what little dignity she had left and following Charlotte through the doorway.

They made their way to the gypsy clearing deep in the woods where Cara had last seen Rowena and Balthazar. Cara had no idea why the vampires wanted to find the others, but she did know that it wouldn’t end well for Rowena if they did find her. She had little choice, however. She had offered to help, in exchange for Zebulon’s life. She could only hope that she might find a way to warn them or that, perhaps, by some miracle, Rowena and Balthazar could save her and Zebulon. Perching on a large boulder, Charlotte waved a hand irritably at her.

“We don’t have much time,” she warned. Dawn was only a few hours away.

Cara searched frantically, but the cloud-filled sky blanketed the light of the moon and there were no stars to light her way. She knew that Charlotte would hold true to her word and kill them both if Cara failed to find a sign that might lead them to the others. She could sense the vampire’s irritation growing as the night drew on, but Cara kept searching, praying that she would find something – anything, that would appease her.

“Do you know what I think?” Charlotte’s voice sounded right behind her and Cara swivelled to find her standing only a foot away. “I think you were lying to me,” Charlotte continued ominously. “I don’t think that your friends left you any signs.”

“Rowena would have left something,” Cara insisted, relieved that she sounded convincing. She wasn’t lying; she knew Rowena would have left them a sign, she just couldn’t find it. “It’s too dark,” she continued, “I can’t see.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. Grabbing Cara’s bony shoulders she pulled her forward, holding her gaze.

“Tell me the truth,” she instructed, using enough compulsion to elicit the gypsy’s honesty.

“I can’t see,” Cara replied, her eyes fixed on Charlotte’s. Satisfied, Charlotte released her.

“Let’s go,” she ordered, “we will come back in the morning.” Leaving Cara to rest, she made her way over to Tristan’s.

“There’s been a change of plan,” she announced, the second he opened the door. “The girl needs to search during the day. You will accompany her and keep me posted. I will join you every evening until we find them. Oh, and Tristan,” she added, as she turned to leave, “before you concoct any plans to run off and search for your wife, bear in mind that I will find her first, and that without me, she will never forget everything you’ve done.” Charlotte smiled spitefully. “You will never get your wife back without me.”

Chapter 25

Lenora moved diligently from room to room, searching each one for Rowena. Eventually, she found the gypsy woman sitting in the vast kitchen, a cup of coffee steaming in her hands.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Lenora smiled, taking a seat opposite her.

“What for?”

“I hear you and Balthazar have some happy news.”

“Oh,” Rowena smiled shyly, “that.”

“I’m assuming by your age that it’s not a shotgun wedding,” Lenora continued gaily, oblivious to her own tactlessness, “but rather the fear of imminent death that has made us all take stock and reassess what’s important?” Completely taken aback, Rowena could do nothing but nod mutely.

“Good!” Lenora clapped her hands happily. “In that case, I’ve arranged for a minister. How does the day after tomorrow suit you?” Rowena found her tongue.

“For what... a wedding?” she gaped. “You can’t be serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. There’s been enough catastrophe and heartache around here to last a lifetime and a wedding would certainly lift the mood. Besides,” Lenora leaned forward conspiratorially, “you aren’t getting any younger my dear.”

Rowena ignored the unintentional barb. She couldn’t believe the vampire would even suggest such a thing given what they were all facing. The Guardians were in a state; Quinn had yet to return safely and the wards were only just barely keeping it together in their new environment.

“We can’t possibly get married in the middle of all this!” she exclaimed.

“Of course you can. What else do you have to do?”

To Rowena’s utter surprise, Balthazar was delighted with the idea. He had wanted to marry her for so many years and, now that he finally had her consent, he didn’t see any reason not to go through with it. The only thing he disagreed with was the use of a traditional minister.

“That’s not how we do it,” he explained politely, when Lenora questioned him, “we have our own traditions and a gypsy will perform the ceremony.”

“But Balthazar,” Rowena pulled him away from a grinning Lenora, “this isn’t really the time to...” He didn’t let her finish. Instead, he took her gently by the shoulders and gazed deep into her eyes.

“We may not have much time left,” he murmured softly. They both knew it was true but speaking the words out loud only served to emphasise how much they had to lose. They had come this far and their family was finally happy, finally together and fulfilling their life-long purpose. It was that much more precious because it could be wrenched away from them any minute. Seeing the tears well up in her eyes, Balthazar tightened his grip on her slim shoulder.

“Do you love me?” he asked plainly.

“You know I do.”

“Prove it,” he challenged, an affectionate gleam in his eyes. “Marry me.”

“And?” Lenora asked the second they returned.

“Cosima knows the rituals,” Rowena nodded shyly, “and Jonas can be a witness. We don’t need to tell the others; the Guardians have enough on their plates right now,” she continued. “We don’t expect them to be there, but we do need a second witness if you would be so kind?”

“I would be honoured,” Lenora smiled, “but I’d prefer not to be burnt to a crisp, so, if at all possible, would you mind if we held the ceremony indoors?”

Having secured their consent, Lenora threw herself into the wedding preparations. In truth, she was doing this for herself as much as Balthazar and Rowena. She needed something to occupy her mind given that far too much of her time of late was spent dwelling on Isaiah. She couldn’t get that kiss out of her mind, although, since then, they had not had a moment alone together. The Guardians were so busy planning their next move that she felt she would only be in their way and planning a wedding was the perfect distraction, as simple as the wedding would be.

Isaiah found her in the kitchen, looking remarkably human, wearing a white apron and flour on her cheek. Her brown hair was escaping its pins, damp with the steam that filled the room.

“Pass me that silver rack over there, please,” she instructed, gesturing at the far counter.

“What on earth are you doing?” he asked, handing it over.

“I’m making a cake,” she replied, “a wedding cake. Balthazar and Rowena are getting married tomorrow.”

“Really?” his astonished surprise was genuine, as was the smile that spread across his face. “Well, that’s good news. Can I taste?” he added, gesturing at the cooling cakes.

“You can have some of this,” she passed him a spare plate on which stood a cooled circular cake. “It was my first attempt... I used far too much vanilla.” Isaiah broke off a chunk and leaned back against the counter.

“Tastes fine to me.”

“Shows how much you know. It has to be perfect... They don’t want any fuss,” Lenora sighed, “but I want it to be special. After all, a girl’s wedding day is one of the most important days of her life!”

“As if you would know!” he teased.

“Actually,” she replied haughtily, “I have been married. Twice, if you must know.” Isaiah choked on the cake he had just crammed into his mouth.

“Surprised?” she smirked. “Did you think I was waiting around for you to swoop in and apologise?”

“No,” he shook his head soberly, dropping the remains of his chunk of cake back onto the plate. “I thought you were dead, remember?” At his words the light atmosphere vanished.

“Don’t let your guilt ruin this,” Lenora murmured, almost to herself. “I was angry for a long time but I’m not anymore.”

“I loved you,” he replied thickly. “What I did to you was unforgiveable.”

“That’s my decision to make, not yours. Besides, if you’d met either of my husbands you would realise that you weren’t the worst boyfriend in the world.” The twinkle in her eye relaxed him, and he listened as she regaled him with the stories of the men who had succumbed to her charms, only to be discarded when Lenora’s mind had wandered elsewhere. She had always been flighty and impulsive, and secretly, Isaiah sympathised with the poor men who had not known how to handle her.

“Any word from Quinn or the others?” she asked eventually, when the conversation ran dry.

“Not yet. I doubt she’ll contact us until she finds something.”

“Do you think she will?”

“No,” he shook his head regrettably. “I saw Avery’s body. Quinn is chasing a ghost.”

“What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to do what I have always done – prepare the Guardians; starting with Austin. We have to be at our absolute best. Which brings me to why I came looking for you,” he added. “Would you mind if I use the library as a temporary training room? It’s big enough if I move some furniture around. We’ve been training outside but I’d prefer the quiet.”

“Not at all,” Lenora obliged immediately. “I’ll have Dylan clear it out now. But be warned, you can’t use it tomorrow. I’m hosting the wedding in there.”

Isaiah felt a grim satisfaction as Monique’s stake ground to a halt less than half an inch from Austin’s chest. The girl was sweating, her red hair darkened to a deep ruby colour, and the front of her shirt was drenched, but she never wavered in her efforts. Her slim body was transforming too – she was leaner, harder than when she had first arrived in Cliffdale. The lines of her face were more pronounced; every ounce of her puppy fat had been melted away by the rigorous training she had been subjected to. Now her eyes shone with the delight of winning, something she wasn’t accustomed to when training with the other Guardians, all of whom had decades of experience.

Austin was becoming increasingly frustrated. When Isaiah had suggested Monique as a sparring partner, he had rolled his eyes, thinking that the older Guardian was being too soft on him, but Monique had bested him five for five now. He had stopped trying to go easy on her shortly after her first victory, but it didn’t matter how hard he tried, the girl seemed to anticipate his every move. He was stronger, of that he was certain, but she was quick – quicker than he could ever have imagined. Every time he lunged at her she seemed to disappear, materialising an instant later in another spot with a clear shot at his heart.

As they prepared to face off once more, Austin made a concerted effort to protect his chest, but barely a minute in, Isaiah called them to a halt.

“A vampire will go for your throat, not your chest, Austin,” he spoke in that calm, placating way of his and Austin fought the urge to scream.

“She’s aiming for my chest,” he couldn’t hide the note of sarcasm in his voice.

“She’s been trained to fight vampires,” Isaiah shrugged, as if that explained it. Monique sensed that Austin was losing control of his temper and she quickly offered a solution.

“Why don’t we put the stakes down and just practice some fighting moves?”

At Isaiah’s nod, they set their stakes down on a nearby shelf and took up their positions. Without the advantage of a clear goal, Monique’s agility was not as advantageous. She darted out of Austin’s reach a few times, but she couldn’t really land any debilitating blows, and so they parried for a time, neither gaining an edge over the other. Austin was tiring, but Monique had lost her focus. Isaiah saw what was going to happen the instant before Austin’s fist connected heavily with Monique’s jaw, but he was powerless to stop it. Monique spun almost 180 degrees before landing heavily on her stomach, her outstretched arms only barely taking the brunt of her fall.

Austin reached her at the same time as Isaiah, a horrified expression on his face. He had been lashing out more wildly, trying to land at least one blow, but he hadn’t expected the timing to be so perfect.

“It was an accident,” Isaiah assured him, helping Monique to a sitting position. The entire left side of her jaw-line was bright red, but already they could see the onset of an ugly bruise. Monique pressed her hand to her jaw gingerly, wincing at even the slightest pressure.

“Is it broken?” Austin asked, feeling like the world’s biggest prat.

“No,” Isaiah reassured him, “it’s just badly bruised but she’ll heal quickly, won’t you?” he winked at Monique, who nodded, feeling worse for Austin than she did for herself. “Go and put some ice on it,” Isaiah helped her to her feet.

Leaving them to continue training, Monique slipped from the room. Bypassing the kitchen, she made her way to Jonas’s room and crept inside quietly so as not to wake him. To her surprise, he was out of bed. Balthazar was helping him into a beige suit jacket.

“Hey!” she called, delighted to find him up and about. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“Dad and Rowena are getting married tomorrow,” he replied, grinning.

“Really?” her voice rose shrilly. “That’s wonderful!”

“Jonas is going to be a witness so we thought he needed something a bit smarter than what we brought with us,” Balthazar said. He looked younger, as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and a blazingly triumphant grin was set firmly on his face. Monique found that for once, she wasn’t at all intimidated by him.“Lenora’s lent us some clothes,” Balthazar continued, pulling the left sleeve over Jonas’s plaster cast and straightening the lapel. After a moment’s consideration, he nodded approvingly. “It’s a bit big, but you aren’t going to get anything smaller over those casts.”

“You look very handsome,” Monique agreed shyly, and Jonas straightened his shoulders.

“You’ll be my date?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”

“We understand that the Guardians probably won’t be able to make it,” Balthazar quickly interjected, “with everything going on, we don’t want to make a big fuss.” Monique’s happiness vanished as quickly as it had come.

“If it’s a private ceremony, I could always stay away,” she murmured, trying to keep her voice light. “I really wouldn’t want to intrude.” Realising his error, Balthazar quickly tried to explain himself.

“No! You misunderstand me, Monique. I would be honoured to have you there. In fact, I would be honoured to have every Guardian attend, it’s just that I know how busy you all are and that this isn’t a good time. I don’t expect the Guardians to simply drop everything they are doing to come to a gypsy marriage ceremony.” Monique nodded her understanding.

“Well, I’ll definitely be there,” she promised.

Chapter 26

The atmosphere in the car was tense and Quinn focused on the road ahead. Braddon and Drake had spoken only a handful of times during the past few hours and only directly to her. They studiously ignored one another and the strain was taking its toll on Quinn. Despite the lateness of the hour, neither she nor Braddon felt tired, and Drake was used to being alert at night.

“Take this turn,” Braddon murmured, consulting the GPS.

“No. Stay on this road, it’s quicker,” Drake interrupted and Quinn was reminded painfully that he knew exactly where they were going. She wondered how long he had been in love with Charlotte – how much time they had spent together before he had finally left her. Braddon cast Quinn a dark glance as she drove straight on, following Drake’s instruction.

Another hour passed and she felt the tension of so many hours at the wheel mounting in her neck and shoulders.

“When we get to the next stop, I can drive,” Drake murmured, noticing how she flexed, trying to ease the dull ache. “You are both welcome to sleep.”

“Thanks,” Quinn accepted gratefully. She wasn’t tired, but she could use a break. Climbing into the passenger seat a short while later, she leaned back against the plush leather and closed her eyes. She still couldn’t believe that Avery was alive. She had no idea how her sister had survived, or where she had been, but one thing she was absolutely certain of was that it was not Avery’s body that lay buried in the Cliffdale cemetery.

Quinn shifted in her seat as the thoughts swirled around and around in her head. Somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, she heard Drake speak.

“You should get some rest, too. It’s a long drive ahead and you can take the next shift.”

“I’m fine,” came her father’s terse reply.

“You don’t like me very much,” Drake mused. It wasn’t a question, but Braddon’s answer surprised Quinn.

“I haven’t made up my mind about you yet.”

“Fair enough,” Drake nodded. “But I can assure you that I have only your best interests at heart.”

“You mean her best interests,” Braddon remarked wryly.

“I won’t deny that I’m here for her. Or that, if it came down to it, I would protect her above anyone else.”

“Guardians don’t work that way,” Braddon reminded him. “No single Guardian’s life is worth more than any other.” In the dim light of the car, Quinn noticed a wry smile cross Drake’s face.

“If you really believed that you wouldn’t be here,” he pointed out. “You are risking the lives of the others to find your daughter.”

They lapsed into silence after that and Quinn finally fell asleep, to be woken by the sound of a door slamming. Rubbing her eyes, she felt the warmth of the sunlight on her face as it filtered through the window. She sat up as Braddon took the wheel, trading places with Drake, and wondered if her father had slept at all. They had stopped at a small gas station, complete with creaking metal signpost. A young girl with curly blonde hair waved at Quinn from the adjacent car. Drake was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is he?” she asked her father as she waved back.

“Inside, getting some food,” Braddon replied.

“Did you sleep?”

“A little.”

“Good.”

“How long have you known?” The question caught her unaware. “About him being a daywalker?”

Quinn didn’t reply and her father cursed. “Why are you protecting him? What exactly is going on between you two?”

She flushed under the scrutiny of his gaze. “Nothing, we’re just... he’s helping us.”

“That, I believe,” he said, “it’s the ‘nothing’ part that I’m not convinced by.”

She was saved the embarrassment of responding by Drake’s return. Opening the back door, he took his seat and passed a bag forward to Quinn. The hot fries were not exactly an ideal breakfast, but she crammed a few into her mouth, suddenly starving. Drake passed another bag forward to Braddon, who took it wordlessly and they drove on in silence. Quinn didn’t dare ask Drake if he had eaten, not with her father in the car.

As she had predicted, they reached Glenashley by sundown. It was an obscure little town that showed signs of recent development, as though the twenty-first century had only just caught up with it. Satellite dishes mounted atop thatched roofs looked bizarrely out of place, but Quinn barely noticed, her heart beating frantically in her chest as they drew closer to their destination.

It didn’t take long to find the address that Piper had given them, but there was no one near the payphone. Quinn hadn’t expected Avery to be waiting around it, but now that they were here, she had to consider their options.

“Charlotte’s house,” she began cautiously, “where is it?” Drake sighed as if he had been expecting this.

“That would be a very bad idea,” he pointed out.

“Not really,” she countered. “Charlotte is no doubt still executing Summerfeld’s wards, and if Avery was being held prisoner at her house, which I think it’s safe to assume, given that her call came from this phone, then she managed to escape. Which means that the guards must have left, or, at the very least, be minimal.”

“That’s a lot of assumption.”

“We don’t have much choice,” she reasoned. “We’ve come all this way; we can’t just turn around and go back.”

“We’ll all go,” Braddon broke his long silence.

“No,” Quinn insisted. “You stay here, in case she comes back. She’d know we would come looking for her. She might be checking back here.”

“She wouldn’t stay in the area,” Drake argued, “not with Charlotte’s house so close. Either she got away and is on the run, probably far from here, or...”

“Or she was caught,” Quinn finished his sentence, a flare of panic rising in her chest. “In which case, she’s at Charlotte’s.”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Well then, that’s where we’re going.”

There was no point in Braddon staying behind, though Quinn doubted he would have consented to even if she’d asked. Charlotte’s house wasn’t far from the quiet street they had just left, but it still surprised her to see it, nestled within the peaceful, nondescript little town. The house wasn’t as big as Lenora’s mansion, and Quinn was surprised that someone as narcissistic as Charlotte would live in such an unpretentious residence. The Manor House was stately and bigger than any place Quinn had ever lived in, but it didn’t seem to be fit with what she had heard about Charlotte. She had expected something far more ostentatious.

“It was her parent’s home,” Drake explained, as they approached the house. There would be no guards outside, not with the last of the sun’s rays still shining down on them.

“So is she nostalgic or what?” Quinn asked.

“No, she’s evil. She killed her parents and took over the Manor out of pure spite. It’s all part of her sick, twisted sense of humour.”

“I can’t believe you were with this woman,” Quinn hissed in disgust, forcing back the memories of him standing beside Charlotte and killing Blair to protect her.

“She wasn’t always like this,” he replied enigmatically.

There wasn’t time for any further conversation as Quinn’s Hunter instinct suddenly alerted her to vampires inside the house. She didn’t think there were too many and she let her instinct guide her. It was harder than she thought, because, in channelling her Hunter side, Drake’s presence affected her far more and she had to resist the urge to attack him, focusing instead on the enemy within the house.

Drake seemed to sense her discomfort because he moved away from her as they crept to an open window near the back of the house. As soon as she climbed inside Quinn knew that the vampires were close. She could sense them and she could hunt them. It didn’t take long to find the three vampires, closeted together conveniently in the living-room, watching TV. As they were caught completely unawares, Quinn didn’t even need Drake or her father’s assistance. Within seconds, both of her stakes were bloodied and three greying corpses lay at her feet.

Braddon stood at the door, unmoved by the gruesome scene, but Drake had made himself scarce, giving her time to recover and get her anger under control. Quinn breathed deeply in and out, calming herself. Only once she was fully in control did she emerge from the living-room. Drake was waiting near a door down the hall.

“In here,” he murmured.

They descended the stairs to the basement and Quinn’s eyes widened as they reached the bottom. The basement had been converted into what looked like a medieval torture chamber. There were dark stains on the floor and the smell of blood hung heavily in the air. Disgusted, Quinn leaned against the cold stone wall, wondering what horrific acts had been committed in this room.

Braddon, showing no hesitation, discovered the cells before Drake could even point them out. Grimly, they surveyed one empty cell after another and Quinn knew, without a doubt, that this was where her sister had been held captive. The smell of human faeces and rotten food overwhelmed her and she gagged, choking back the bile that rose in her throat.

Drake had moved further down the dark corridor lit only by a few flickering bulbs that cast a pale glow through the small cells. Toward the end of the narrow passageway, Drake laid a restraining hand on Quinn’s arm, halting her instantly. She swung to face him, a question on her lips, and he nodded, indicating the last cell on the right. Quinn darted forward, her heart pounding.

There were three women huddled together in the confined space. Frantically Quinn ran her gaze over each of them. Thin, malnourished and terrified, none of the pitiful wretches was Avery. The women were covered in their own filth, and, despite her colossal disappointment, Quinn’s heart constricted with empathy for their suffering. As Drake stepped forward to break the lock on the cell door, they cowered against the far wall and he stepped away, the ruined lock in his hand. Quinn was grateful for his thoughtfulness. They wouldn’t know what he was, but perhaps Quinn’s gentler approach might be easier for them to deal with.

Quinn entered the cell, speaking in a low soothing tone, while Drake watched, his eyes narrowed. He had always known Charlotte could be cruel, but this vile, heinous act was beyond even her usual capacity for evil. Human beings were a food source, not toys to be played with and tortured.  He could only imagine what these three women had endured at her hand and his heart hardened against her. Charlotte’s sadism knew no bounds. Quinn, on the contrary, was compassionate and kind, and he saw tears reflected in her eyes, shining a dark violet in the dim light, as she helped one of the women to her feet.

“You came back,” the young prisoner gasped, as they moved toward the light. Quinn’s heart lurched in her chest but before she could question her any further, the woman collapsed. Quinn caught her as her knees gave way.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” she murmured gently. “My name is Quinn. This is my father, Braddon, and my friend, Drake. We’re here to help you.”

“Anna,” the young woman croaked pathetically. “That’s Laura, and Jen.” The other two women shuffled out behind her.

“You’re going to be okay,” Quinn reassured them, “everything is going to be okay.”

The three prisoners were too weak to climb the stairs so Quinn, Braddon and Drake carried them out. Anna’s body was so frail, that Quinn walked carefully, terrified of hurting her. The possibility that their ordeal was finally over, however, was too much for the young girl to bear, and, with a choked whimper that sounded suspiciously like, “my sister” she blacked out.

Chapter 27

Tristan watched as Cara moved through the woods, searching for any sign that Rowena might have left for her or for the other gypsy women. She moved quickly, the daylight making her task much easier than it had been the night before. It went against every instinct to help these people find Rowena. Cara knew better than to believe that her friend would come to no harm if they did find her, but she had little choice. If she didn’t give Charlotte something to go on, she and Zebulon were as good as dead.

Zebulon sat nearby, his hands bound behind his back. His eyes never left Tristan. The Guardian was alert but irritated by having been relegated to babysitting. Zebulon knew there was no way he could overpower Tristan, but he harboured the hope that somehow he and Cara might be able to escape if Tristan let his guard down.

Tristan, oblivious to Zebulon’s dark thoughts, was in a foul mood. His best-laid plans were unravelling and now Charlotte had him traipsing through the countryside on a fool’s errand. He didn’t believe for a second that the Guardians would have taken Balthazar’s group with them. They had taken them in against their better judgement in the first place. They would no doubt have dumped them the second they escaped the City safely. Unfortunately for Tristan, Charlotte would not be convinced until Balthazar was found. It was imperative that they find the Guardians and take care of the wards that they had managed to spirit away, and Cara was Charlotte’s only lead.

Avery’s disappearance also had Tristan frantic with worry and he was certain that Charlotte would punish her terribly if he wasn’t around when she was recaptured. He had last seen Avery just a few short weeks ago and she had certainly looked in no way capable of defending herself. She had been malnourished and exhausted, with her long hair hanging in a lank curtain over her eyes, but even her weakened state hadn’t stopped her from hurling abuse at him. Tristan had been crucified every time he saw the hatred in her beautiful tanzanite eyes, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that one day she would remember none of this.

“I found something!” Cara’s excited cry roused Tristan from his melancholy, and he got to his feet, moving through the trees in the direction of her voice.

“What is it?” he asked dubiously a second later, staring down at what looked like a nondescript pile of pebbles.

“It’s a sign,” she replied confidently. “You see how the smooth edges are aligned and the formation curves in that direction?” She swept her hand along an imaginary line.

“What does it mean?” he grunted, not at all interested in her explanation. A small frown creased Cara’s smooth forehead as she deliberated whether or not to tell him the truth.

“What does it mean, Cara?” he asked again, his tone holding a clear threat.

“North,” she sighed, “we head north.”

They couldn’t take a car as Cara had to be constantly on the lookout for Rowena’s markers, but all three were used to physical toil and they covered a lot of ground. Every now and again Cara would find something but she didn’t bother to explain it, she simply steered them in a new direction. The further they travelled, the more Tristan’s excitement grew, as he realised the path they were taking was off the beaten track, avoiding any human settlements. It made sense that if the Guardians were travelling with the wards this was a route they would have taken.

In the late afternoon Tristan announced that they were to make camp and Cara set about making a fire. Tristan watched her idly for a while, then pulled his phone from his pocket and switched it on to make the call to Charlotte. His battery wouldn’t last long out here and, as soon as he had given her their location, he switched it back off.

“What are you doing?” he asked, as he turned back to find Cara smothering the flames with a heavy blanket.

“I’m making sure the fire doesn’t catch any of this,” she snapped, grabbing a handful of dry leaves and twigs that littered the ground around them. “Unless of course, you want this entire area to go up in flames, in which case I doubt I’ll be able to find any more of Rowena’s signs.”

“It’ll go out if you do that,” Tristan replied.

“Oh really?” she retorted, lifting the blanket and fanning the embers until they blazed once more. As soon as the flames were high enough to be of concern she smothered the fire again. “How many fires have you made in the middle of nowhere?” she taunted. And, when he didn’t reply, “That’s what I thought. Now, why don’t you make yourself useful and go and find me some more wood. Once the blaze is controlled we’ll need something that will burn slowly.” Tristan hesitated and Cara caught Zebulon’s curious glance behind him, but she gave an imperceptible nod of her head. Tristan, deciding not to argue, eventually walked away, and Zebulon opened his mouth to question her, but Cara raised her hand quickly, warning him to stay silent.

Charlotte arrived after nightfall, dropping a small bag near the fire, and, much to Tristan’s disgust, she fed off Cara immediately. The gypsy woman made no move to stop her, but a cold, distant look came over her face, as though she had detached herself from the situation. Zebulon looked away, unable to bear the sight, and, when Charlotte was finished, she smiled lazily at the back of his head.

“Give it a rest,” Tristan muttered, stoking the fire. Despite his reservations, Cara had done an excellent job and the flames flickered merrily in the black night.

“You’re right,” she sighed ruefully. “There’s a time and place for everything, I guess.”

“Have you found Avery yet?” he asked, already knowing the answer. If she had, she would have told him.

“No, but we will.”

“What is Aleksei doing now?”

“He leaves for my house this evening. How far are we from your people?” she asked Cara, who glared hatefully at her.

“How would I know? Rowena left markers, not a scaled map.”

“My my, we are a feisty little thing, aren’t we?” Charlotte raised her brows in mock surprise.

“She’s done well today,” Tristan pointed out.

“You have covered a lot of ground,” Charlotte relented slightly. “Well done.” Cara didn’t respond. She had cleared her face of all expression as she gazed up at the starry sky.

Charlotte got to her feet, kicking the bag toward the fire. “I must go,” she announced. “I can’t sit around here all night making pleasant conversation.” Relieved to see her leaving so soon, Tristan said nothing. “I’ll see you again tomorrow,” Charlotte smiled pleasantly, casting a meaningful look at Cara who turned away, her face flaming. “Remember, if you find them, you wait for me. Do not approach them.” Tristan nodded and, with the faintest rustling of leaves, she left.

Tristan bent wearily and retrieved the bag, finding a few tins of food rattling around in the bottom, beneath a small, frayed blanket that smelled of old dog; Charlotte’s idea of generosity! Opening the tins himself with the opener in his own satchel, he passed them across to Cara to heat in the warm coals she was setting aside. In a gesture of uncharacteristic kindness, he handed her the blanket. It couldn’t possibly smell any worse than the smoke-infested blanket she was currently using to warm her legs. To his surprise, instead of throwing it over her legs, she twisted it into a misshapen scarf and wrapped it around her neck, covering the puncture wounds Charlotte had left there.

“Thank you,” she murmured, so quietly that he wondered if she had really spoken at all, or if his mind was playing tricks on him.

“You’re welcome,” he said, anyway, but she didn’t even look up.

They ate in silence, the tepid soup in no way assuaging their hunger. An owl hooted in the woods behind them, and Tristan got up to relieve himself. Through the trees, he heard Zebulon’s low voice.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not...” he trailed off, unable to voice his concerns. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel any better about what Charlotte was doing to her. It was a violation of the worst kind. To Tristan’s surprise, Cara’s voice, when it came, was stronger than he expected.

“I told you we should’ve stayed with Rowena!” she hissed; a direct accusation.

“Rowena and Balthazar abandoned the search,” Zebulon replied hotly.

“Balthazar would never abandon the search,” Cara scoffed. “And Rowena has always been one step ahead of the rest of us. She has the sight... she’s always had it, just like Jasmine and every female child in her blood line...” Cara trailed off, as though she had said too much. “We should have stayed with them,” she finished lamely.

Tristan pondered their words as he stood alone in the dark. It sounded as though they had disagreed about remaining with the gypsies when their friends had separated from the group. Zebulon had insisted they stay, although it seemed as though Cara had argued this fact. She had been right, Tristan mused. If they had done as she suggested they wouldn’t be in this mess; they wouldn’t have been with the gypsies when Charlotte tracked them down. He could better understand Zebulon’s grief now. The man knew, without a doubt, that he was responsible for the position they were in. It was his fault his wife was in danger and he was struggling to deal with his guilt. Tristan could understand that feeling only too well.

Chapter 28

Freya walked across the property listening to the wind whistle through the leaves of the trees. Her bow was slung across her shoulder. She had taken to keeping it with her since they had left Summerfeld. She didn’t feel safe without it. So many of her people, the Fae she had known her entire life, were gone. Only sixteen remained. It might as well be none. She shook her head, trying to shake the dark thoughts from her mind. It was enough. They could rebuild their race if they survived this. She had to believe that. Their infertility was linked to the loss of their magic, she was sure of it, and once the Guardians opened the Rose Temple their magic would be restored. With any luck, their fertility would return with it.

Freya continued her lonely vigil, trying to escape the cloying claustrophobia of the fear that had taken seed deep within her and refused to be silenced. Sage. It all came back to her daughter; the child she had waited so long for, who could be taken from her at any time. Freya would not let the vampires get their hands on her. They had no mercy and the thought of her precious baby falling prey to their evil filled her heart with a pain so severe she almost doubled over. She wondered whether, if the time came, she would have the courage to do what needed to be done. She would rather end Sage’s life herself than allow the vampires near her. Freya would follow Sage to the otherworld, if it came down to it.

“Penny for your thoughts?” a soft voice intruded, and Freya whirled to find Evangeline standing behind her. Her white hair gleamed in the moonlight and, despite her blindness; her milky eyes were fixed on Freya. Her own bow was slung across her back.

“I was just trying to clear my head,” Freya admitted as Evangeline fell into step beside her.

“These are trying times,” Evangeline replied. Such a simplified statement and yet Freya knew that the older woman understood exactly what Freya had been thinking. “They will not harm the child,” Evangeline stated calmly. Freya felt the weight ease slightly off her chest. Magic might be gone, but Evangeline had always been gifted with a sight that nobody could explain. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to simply place her faith in an old woman’s prophecies.

“You can’t know that.”

Evangeline simply shrugged. “We will rise again,” she said. The words were spoken with such confidence that Freya almost believed them. Then Evangeline stumbled on a gnarled tree root and Freya caught her as she fell, her spirits plummeting.

“Do you think we can...” she trailed off, feeling slightly uncomfortable talking to a woman of Evangeline’s age about procreation.

“Re-populate?’ Evangeline asked, smiling smugly. “No need to be shy, dear, I wasn’t always this old.” Freya smiled as she continued, “Of course we can. There are sixteen of us, most unrelated. And from what I can tell, there are some very fit, young Fae amongst us. We will survive.” She reached over and patted Freya’s hand. “Besides, if all else fails, we’ll do what we did before. We’ll call upon our human friends.”

Freya couldn’t stifle a gasp of surprise. Before Summerfeld was created, taking human lovers had been common among the Fae. Humans were enchanted by them, and, in turn, many of the Fae had felt a strong fondness for mankind’s vulnerability, but that had been over a thousand years ago.

“No need to be shocked,” Evangeline chuckled, sounding years younger. “I lived in man’s realm longer than you did. Longer even, than my time within the City’s enchantments. The old ways will return now that we are back where we started. Do not resist it; it is how it should be.”

Freya glanced sideways, staring at Evangeline’s white hair and the leathery coarseness of her skin. She had never asked the old Fae woman why she had aged so quickly. When they had their magic, the Fae had been immortal. Once they reached maturity, they remained youthful, forever frozen in time. Without their magic they aged; but infinitely slowly. Evangeline was the only member of the Fae who had aged so quickly.

“I am an old woman,” Evangeline murmured, letting Freya know that she sensed where her thoughts lay. She did not, however, offer an explanation. Instead, she mused on a time long past.

“I never believed the vampires would sustain their anger. Despite Eldon’s preventative measures, I thought the war would simply run its course and that things would return to how they were. It would seem that Eldon knew better.” She smiled then, lost in the memories. “I should have known. He was always right.”

“You were on his council,” Freya recalled. Her memories of the time before the war were far less clear than Evangeline’s must be, but she did remember Eldon’s council.

“Lucian and I were his most trusted advisors,” Evangeline nodded.

“What happened to Lucian?” Freya had told Quinn about the vampire who had been so close to King Eldon, but she had never known what had become of him after the war had begun. “Did he join the Quest?”

“No,” Evangeline shook her head with the conviction of someone who has lived long enough to know better than most. “Lucian would never have joined the Quest. He didn’t want any part in the war. Eldon sent him away to join his brothers. I don’t know what became of him after the City was sealed.”

The mention of Summerfeld turned them both sombre.

“I still can’t accept that the City is gone,” Freya whispered.

“It isn’t gone. Summerfeld remains; it is simply waiting for Wintyr to resurrect it.”

“Do you really believe the Guardians can open that portal?”

“They have never failed us yet.” Shame washed over Freya in a wave.

“I didn’t mean... I wasn’t implying that...”

“Of course you weren’t,” Evangeline soothed. “You fear for your child, it’s as simple as that. Now, how about a bit of target practice?”

Freya didn’t argue. She lifted her bow, sliding an arrow into it and steadying her breath as she took aim. The arrow flew true and hit the centre of a slim tree trunk, thirty yards away. Satisfied, Freya stepped back, allowing Evangeline to take aim. The older woman nocked her arrow, her breath steaming from her mouth as she exhaled slowly. A moment later, her arrow split Freya’s in two. It was an impossible shot, and Freya gazed, wide-eyed, at the sight of her sheared arrow, two pathetic splinters of wood sagging toward the ground. An idea blossomed in her mind, one that gave her hope, not for herself, but for Sage.

It was only as they were walking back to the house that she found the courage to ask the question.

“Will you take her away from here?” The words were whispered on a slight breeze, but Evangeline heard them and understood what Freya was asking.

“When?”

“If they come for us... if they find us. Will you take her and run? I know you can protect her.”

“If all hope is lost, what would be the point?” Evangeline asked gently. “She would grow up without her family, without her people.”

“But she would grow up,” Freya pointed out determinedly.

If Kellan sensed something had changed in her, he didn’t show it. She walked into the barn where he was tending the unicorns, listening to the soothing sound of his voice as he spoke in a low murmur. The herd were still not settling, and the only time they calmed down was when a member of the Fae was with them.

“Where is Sage?” he smiled, spotting her.

“Sleeping. Isadora is with her. She seems to bring her some comfort.” Kellan bowed his head in understanding. It was unlikely that Isadora would ever fully recover from Mairin’s death.

“Where have you been?”

“Walking.” He eyed the bow still slung across her shoulder but didn’t say anything. Freya shifted under his gaze and he moved away from Zinnia to come and stand before her.

“Everything is going to be all right,” he said, lifting his hand to cup her face. He had loved Freya for hundreds of years, loved her to the depth and breadth of his soul, and not a day went by that she didn’t dazzle him.

“Let’s not talk about it now,” she smiled, but she couldn’t stop a single tear tracking its way down her cheek. Kellan wiped it away with his thumb, his aquamarine eyes reading the pain in her own.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath sweet on her face.

“I love you too.”

Chapter 29

“You need to go faster,” Quinn murmured, her eyes never leaving the road. Obligingly, Drake pressed his foot down on the gas and the engine growled as it picked up speed. The Audi that Drake had chosen from Lenora’s garage was fast, very fast. Even so, Quinn picked at her nails incessantly, the car seeming to move in slow motion despite the fact that they were well over the speed limit. Braddon sat in the back, squashed uncomfortably against his door. Spacious as the car was, there was barely enough room in the back for him and the three hostages they had rescued from Charlotte’s. They needed to protect them, Quinn had insisted when Drake had offered to alter their memories and drop them at the nearest hospital. Braddon understood his daughter’s need for information. If Avery had indeed been a prisoner of Charlotte’s there was a possibility that Anna and her friends might have seen her.

Quinn cast a longing look over her seat at the slumbering women. She had tried to question them before they set off, but Laura and Jen had been too terrified to answer her and had fallen asleep shortly after they had entered the car. Anna, who had seemed stronger down in the dungeon, was still out cold.

Drake kept his eyes on the road. Quinn had asked him to drive because his reflexes were that much faster than her own and he would get them there safely, in less time. Still, she was terrified that they wouldn’t make it. She had a pretty good idea of where Avery would go if she had managed to get herself a car, but her sister had a long lead.

A few minutes passed in silence, until Anna stirred on the seat behind her and Quinn whipped around, grateful for the distraction. The young woman woke with a start, and her eyes widened as she glanced around the car, before settling on Quinn. The sight of the woman who had released them from the cell calmed her slightly and she cleared her throat.

“Where are we?”

“We’re far from that place,” Quinn reassured her. “You’re safe now.” Anna said nothing and Quinn pressed on. “You recognised me back in the cell. How?” Anna gazed at her in confusion, but then she seemed to notice Quinn’s short hair.

“You... I mean, she looked just like you.” The words confirmed her suspicion and Quinn felt dizzy with relief. Braddon let out a gasp of astonished surprise as he too realised that this girl had known Avery.

“Where did she go?” Quinn asked, her heart thundering in her chest.

“She escaped. One of the guards went into her cell... I think he wanted to...” she trailed off, and Quinn felt a knot of fury settle in the pit of her stomach. “She fought him off,” Anna continued. “And then she came for us but she couldn’t open the lock.” She blinked, tears welling in her eyes as she recalled her desperation. “The others came looking for the guard and she fought her way through. She left us.”

Quinn didn’t share Anna’s condemnation. Avery had done the only thing she could do, the same thing Quinn would have done. She had survived. Forcing herself to keep calm in light of this confirmation that Avery was alive, or had been only days ago, Quinn continued.

“Were there other women in there, with you? Other prisoners?”

“Oh God!” Anna’s hand flew to her mouth as she recalled what her mind had tried to block out. “My sister... Riley. She was there. They took her, and...” she sank into silence, unable to continue.

Quinn felt bile rise in her throat as the girl’s emotional upheaval overwhelmed her. No doubt her sister had been butchered by Charlotte. The bloodstains all over the dungeon were proof that Charlotte’s prisoners were not likely to ever see the light of day again.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn murmured gently.

“They all died,” Anna whimpered. “She killed them... we could hear the screams. And there was an animal, some kind of animal; like a dog, only worse.” In her mind’s eye, Quinn could picture the scene. Charlotte had used the women for feeding and no doubt to satisfy her pet wolf. “You’re safe now,” she repeated, leaning over and squeezing Anna’s knee. “She will never hurt you again.”

“I want to go home,” Anna pleaded.

“You will, soon. We just need to make sure that it’s safe.” Turning to face the front once more, Quinn met Drake’s eye briefly and an understanding passed between them. He would calm these women down enough to question them and then he would erase all memories of their captivity before letting them go. He would take away their pain, but not yet, first, they needed to find Avery.

Chapter 30

Avery Ormonde drove recklessly, one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other pressed to her temple, trying to ward off the dizziness that threatened to overcome her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, or how long it had been since she had escaped the dungeon prison - an escape which had used up the very last reserve of her strength. The stolen car she was driving veered perilously near the edge of the road and Avery jerked the steering wheel, skidding back on course. There were no lights to guide her way and the darkness that engulfed the car frightened her more than she cared to admit. She had been a brave Guardian. She had been brave in that dungeon, facing the evil of Charlotte and the betrayal of Tristan with courage and defiance. But now that freedom was within her grasp – now that she was so close to Summerfeld, her safe haven – she no longer felt brave. Only desperate and incredibly alone.

She had to make it back. She had to warn the others even if it killed her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being followed and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she checked the rear-view mirror again. She had been doing this, obsessively, ever since she left Glenashley, although she could see nothing now but her own terrified face gazing back at her, swallowed by a black nothingness. If only she hadn’t passed out in that alley for God-alone knew how many hours. If only it hadn’t taken so long to steal a car. If only she hadn’t wasted so much time waiting around that call box, praying Quinn would come. Her sister was obviously inside Summerfeld where technology didn’t work. Who knew how long it would take for her to listen to her voicemails and hear the frantic call Avery had made. She had broken into a small café and stolen just enough change to make one phone call, but, before she could leave a full message, headlights had lit up the booth and she had run for it, expecting the worst – expecting Charlotte’s henchmen to have discovered her. She could have wept at the kind face of the elderly gentleman who drove innocently past her hiding place a moment later, but it hardly mattered. Piper would trace the call back here. So she had waited. Avery cursed her own foolishness. She would have made it to the City already if she had just left the second she escaped.

An owl swooped low across the street and Avery flinched, expecting it to impact the windshield. The bird soared away, wings outstretched, the white underbelly visible even in the darkness. Her relief was temporary and she shook her head as her vision clouded. The dizziness was overwhelming her. Automatically, she lifted her other hand from the steering wheel, clapping it to her face, but the involuntary action was her undoing. The wheel spun to the left and, with a terrifying squeal of tyres, the car careened off the road and into the trees. Avery grabbed the wheel and slammed on the brakes, but not fast enough. Too late, was her last conscious thought, as the car slammed head-on into a tree and everything went black.

When she came to, it took a moment for Avery to get her bearings. She groaned, clutching her head, where a warm, sticky trail of blood ran down her forehead and dripped into her right eye. Wiping it away, smearing her face, the metallic scent assailed her senses. Her vision was erratic, and she blinked frantically, trying to clear the dark spots that danced before her eyes. She wasn’t sure how far she was from the portal, but she was sure she was close enough to make it on foot if she wasn’t caught first. She still felt as though she was being followed, but she couldn’t distinguish whether the nausea she was feeling was her Guardian alert system warning her that vampires were nearby, or the result of weakness and hunger.

Pushing open her door, faint with exertion, she fell out of the car, landing painfully on the ground below. She crawled a few paces toward another tree, before using it to pull herself up to a standing position. Using the thick trunk for support, she peered around, before looking upward at the stars. She had to find her bearings or she would become lost in the woods. It took a few minutes for her to find the road, given how far the car had travelled into the thicket of the woods and her delirious state, but, once she did, she used it as a marker and set off on a parallel course toward the City. Her mind and body were exhausted, but she put one foot in front of the other, focusing only on the next step. And the next. And the next.

She had only been going a few minutes when the nausea intensified. This time there was no mistaking it. Vampires. There were vampires nearby. Avery crashed through the bracken of the woods, her fear and adrenalin rising with each passing second. She tried to move as silently as possible, but her light-headedness played havoc with her reflexes, and eventually she gave up, half-running, half-sobbing as she threw caution to the wind and raced toward the portal, knowing that she would never reach it in time.

The trees were sparser now, and Avery pushed forward. The flat plateau which ran from the edge of the woods to the portal was only a few yards away. She was desperate to escape the cloying darkness of the woods and the dangerous shadows that flitted towards her. She stumbled, dropping to her knees, and, with nothing to help her up, she gave a roar of sheer determination as she pushed her muscles to breaking point, tugging her feet beneath her and using every ounce of willpower left to get up again. She breathed a sigh of relief as, despite the burn, her body complied, and she took comfort in knowing that her mind was still strong. Her moment of euphoria, however, was dashed in an instant. She had taken only a step when someone grabbed her from behind, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. Avery leaned forward, her fingers reaching desperately for the final gap in the trees, so close; she had been so close. She would never make it now. She was no match for the strength of the vampire who had seized her, but she refused to go down without a fight. Snapping her jaw, she bit down hard on his fingers, tasting the metallic tang of his blood as it flowed into her mouth. He cursed, jerking his hand away, and Avery threw back her head, hearing the satisfying crunch as her skull connected with his nose.

To his credit, the vampire didn’t let go. He cursed her again, but his hands never faltered at her waist, pinning her against him in a vice-like grip that was as gentle as it was inescapable. Avery’s vision clouded over once more and when she heard what sounded like her sister’s voice, she knew that she had finally lost control of her senses.

“Avery!” Quinn yelled, grabbing Avery’s face and forcing her to look her in the eyes. Avery looked terrible; her hair was a matted, bloody mess and she was so pale that Quinn could barely believe she was still conscious. Her lips were bloodless and her eyes rolled wildly before closing again, her body sagging in Drake’s arms.

“I’ve got her,” he reassured Quinn, meeting her terrified expression over Avery’s bony shoulder. Quinn noticed his bleeding fingers. “I can see she shares your delightful personality,” he added wryly.

Quinn felt only passionate relief that they had caught Avery before she had reached the City. They had travelled through the night, Drake intent on the road, while Quinn bit her nails to the quick in the seat beside him. It was only when they reached the tree-lined road leading towards the portal that Quinn had truly begun to lose hope. They were too close to the City and if Avery had already made it this far, she would no doubt be in Charlotte’s clutches by now. Refusing to give up, Quinn had insisted Drake drive even closer to the portal, but he would not put her life, or those of the other women in the car in danger, and eventually, uttering a harsh apology, he had begun to turn around. Quinn had opened her mouth to protest and that was when she had spotted the dark blue car abandoned off the road, just a short way into the woods illuminated by their headlights. Opening her door, she had lurched out of the still-moving Audi and Drake had skidded to a halt.

“Turn it around!’ he instructed Braddon, who was sitting on the backseat with the three terrified women. “I’ll get her back.”

Drake raced after Quinn, his senses on high alert for any danger. The abandoned sedan was in bad shape and, by the pale moonlight, they could see that a bloody handprint marred the glass on the open driver’s door. Quinn searched the car in vain, calling Avery’s name, but Drake focused only on her scent, the lingering odour of blood permeating his senses.

“Come on!” he hissed, moving away from the wreck. Quinn obliged, knowing he could track its occupant, and, when he broke into a run, she followed.

“She’s not far,” Drake soothed as they moved. Quinn wouldn’t allow herself to believe it was anyone other than her sister who was out in the woods, but she knew this terrain better than he did and a new concern came over her.

“If she reaches the plateau, it’s over,” she gasped, knowing that if Avery were to emerge from the trees she would be an easy target for any of Charlotte’s scouts. “Go!” Respecting her wishes, he catapulted forward.

Drake reached Avery Ormonde only moments before Quinn caught up with them and only a second before she reached the exposed danger of the plateau. Clamping a hand over her mouth to stop her from crying out, he was appalled at how thin and wretched she was. She was bleeding profusely, and he held his breath to block out the sweet scent. His empathy, however, was short-lived, as Avery sank her teeth into his fingers and lashed out at him, fighting with a strength that could only be fuelled by pure adrenalin. When she threw her head back, crushing the bones in his nose, Drake’s immediate reaction was to slap her, but then Quinn was there, facing them and the look on her face was worth all the pain in the world.

“We better get out of here,” she murmured, tearing her eyes from Avery’s unconscious form to glance around. “We’re far too close to the portal; Charlotte’s men could be...” she trailed off as she sensed them.

“Too late,” Drake hissed, setting Avery down gently on the ground before standing to face the eight snarling vampires who appeared like shadows out of the gloomy night.

Stepping over Avery’s body, Quinn drew her stakes and, without hesitating, threw herself at the first vampire, landing a swift kick to his stomach and sending him crashing into the others. The second grabbed her arm before she could use her stake and Quinn twisted violently, bringing her free hand around and smashing it into his jaw. He released her arm and she grabbed his hair, forcing his head down and bending him over at the waist. Her stake flashed, a dart of silver in the dark, and he slumped to the ground.

Drake didn’t wait around to witness her ruthless Hunter side. Instead, he threw himself at another vampire, grappling savagely with the larger man. Quinn was preoccupied, but not enough to keep from watching over her sister, and, as one of her enemies moved toward Avery; she seized him by the shoulder and whirled him around to face her. Staring hatefully into his eyes, she rammed her stake through his chest, not flinching as his body turned grey. Releasing him, she turned to face the remaining vampires but her distraction had proven far more dangerous than she had anticipated. As a shadow loomed before her, she was aware of a flash of movement at her side and then a burning agony as a pair of deadly sharp fangs plunged into her neck.

Drake heard Quinn’s howl of pain and the blood rushed to his head as his rage ignited. Ruthlessly, he ripped the head from the vampire he was fighting, but another stood in his way. Acutely conscious of Quinn, who was still fighting, despite her injury, he held nothing back, tearing through his new assailant like a man possessed.

Quinn had managed to stake the vampire who had bitten her, but the blood streaming down her neck showed no sign of abating, and it sent the vampires who remained into a frenzy. Unable to resist, the four converged on her, leaving their backs open. Quinn hesitated only a moment, before tossing her stakes, over their heads, into Drake’s outstretched arms. The silver points blossomed in a crimson explosion through the chests of two of them, and it sobered the remaining two, snapping them out of their single-minded bloodlust as they turned to face the new threat.

Quinn backed away slowly, pressing her hand to her neck to staunch the flow of blood until she reached Avery. Drake could take care of two vampires on his own, and, armed with stakes, there was no way they would get past him. Crouching over her sister, Quinn quickly felt for a pulse, but she couldn’t tell if Avery had one, or if was simply the blood in her own veins beating in her fingertips.

“Avery!” she croaked, using her free hand to gently cup Avery’s cheek. “Avery!”

“Quinn,” Drake pulled her face toward his. The woods were oddly silent after the fierce sounds of the fighting. She could sense no immediate danger now that the vampires had been eliminated.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, her hand still pressed against the wound. “But Avery...” she gestured helplessly at her sister but Drake soothed her fears without even touching Avery. He could hear her heartbeat from where he sat, faint, but steady. His relief was nothing compared to his concern for Quinn. Noticing how his eyes darted immediately back to her neck, Quinn spoke.

“It will heal, I promise.” Her Guardian blood would heal her and there was no threat other than the blood loss. No bond would form, given that the vampire who had bitten her had been executed and a Guardian could not be turned. Satisfied, Drake looked back in the direction they had come from. They needed to get back to the car.

“Can you walk?” he asked. They were still too close to the City and, if another group discovered them here, they would not be able to fight their way out, with Quinn injured and Avery unconscious.

“Yes,” Quinn nodded grimly, getting unsteadily to her feet. Drake hoisted Avery over his shoulder and together they made their way slowly back to the car.

When Quinn emerged from the gloom, Braddon felt a wave of relief pass over him, but it was nothing compared to the emotion that flooded his senses when Drake appeared a moment later, cradling an unconscious form in his arms. Forcing his legs to move, Braddon took two hesitant steps forward, and then broke into a run as he recognised Avery, her long hair hanging in a curtain toward the ground.

“Avery,” he breathed as he reached them, brushing aside her matted hair to stare into her pale face. A lump formed in his throat and words escaped him. His sweet, kind daughter was alive. After all this time believing her gone, she was here.

“How is this possible?” he whispered reverently, turning toward Quinn. Noticing the blood coursing down her throat and staining her shirt, Braddon snapped back to reality. “You’re hurt!”

“I’m fine,” Quinn soothed. “We were attacked. A group of vampires ambushed us at the edge of the woods.” She smiled weakly, “Drake saved us both.”

Her words sunk in slowly and Braddon felt the warmth of gratitude blossom in his chest.

“You have saved the lives of my daughters,” he spoke directly to Drake who met his gaze levelly. “I owe you everything.”

“You owe me nothing, Guardian,” Drake corrected. “I did what I had to. There was never any choice.” His eyes found Quinn and his face softened, as it did every time he gazed upon her. Braddon had known for some time that the vampire cared for his daughter, but he had underestimated the depth of his feelings. Watching them now it was as clear as day that Drake loved Quinn and, though she hid it well, Braddon would bet his life on the fact that his daughter was very much in love with Drake. Braddon’s instincts recoiled against the idea, but now was the not the time to discuss it.

“We should go,” Quinn murmured, embarrassed by the silence and her father’s thoughtful scrutiny. “There could be more of them around here.”

It was a tight squeeze, but they dropped the back seats of the Audi, allowing more room and in minutes, they were racing back the way they had come.

Chapter 31

Aleksei had settled in well at Charlotte’s manor home. He seemed particularly impressed with her dungeon prison, although Charlotte had kept from him the fact that four prisoners had managed to escape during her absence. It would do no good for him to doubt her competence. Inwardly, Charlotte was seething. She could replace the staff who had been killed, but she knew, without a doubt, that the Guardians had had something to do with the rescue. Avery might have escaped on her own, but the mangled lock that lay on the cold stone floor outside the dungeon cell attested to the fact that a vampire had helped the other three human women escape. Drake. It could only be Drake. Which meant that Quinn had discovered that her sister was still alive and had been held captive here. Charlotte’s scouts had yet to find Avery, which led Charlotte to believe that the girl might have found her way back to her people. Tristan would not be happy.

Aleksei didn’t need to know any of this, Charlotte mused, as she lifted her skirts and made her way down the dungeon stairs. And once Cara located her friends, leading Charlotte right to the remaining Guardians and their wards, it would hardly matter. Charlotte had built powerful alliances in her years as a vampire and soon she would put these to the test. Along with those loyal to Sloane, she was building her own army, one which would serve her well when the time came. But would it be enough? How many of her legion would stand against their king when the time came? Charlotte knew she was playing a dangerous game, but she was not content to grovel at the feet of a tyrant who had not earned her respect. First, she would eliminate the Guardians and the last of the wards, and then she would turn her attention to the battle for the throne.

The young Guardian who had reported to Cliffdale, Oliver, was confined to the dungeon prison, experiencing the same hospitality as Avery had before him, and his crystal was safely stowed away. As long as they had the crystal, the Rose Gate could not be opened. Charlotte had already replenished their food supply; a group of young women had taken the place of the others and Aleksei was making a meal out of one particularly striking redhead as she approached.

“My Lord,” Charlotte curtseyed, her eyes feasting on the sight of him. Aleksei ignored her, leisurely draining the last drop of blood from the young woman’s body before wiping his mouth with a white linen handkerchief.

“Have you found them yet?” he asked eventually.

“Not yet, but the gypsy woman has discovered clues that were left behind. It is only a matter of time before we find where the Guardians are hiding.”

“You are going to rendezvous with the gypsy tracker this evening?”

“Yes, my lord. I will leave as soon as night falls.”

“Contact me immediately if there is any development. I leave for Summerfeld this evening.”

“You are returning so soon?”

“Sloane has secured the weapons we need to destroy the dragons. I will be present when the beasts are destroyed.” An evil smirk settled about his lips. He took great pleasure in the knowledge that everything Eldon had built and held dear would soon be gone.

Knowing he had said all he would, Charlotte took her leave. She was relieved that Aleksei would be travelling back to New Haven. She didn’t want him present when she finally located the Guardians. She had a score to settle with Quinn, and with Drake, and she wanted them to suffer. They had made a fool of her and her sadistic nature demanded vengeance in the cruellest form. She would inflict terrible pain on Quinn, pain so severe it would break the girl’s spirit and leave Drake pleading for mercy. It would also further her cause if she were the one to defeat their enemies – a task that Aleksei, despite his power, had failed to do.

“Charlotte,” Aleksei crooned, as she reached the stairs.

“Yes, My Lord?” She had stopped calling him by his first name since the night he had snubbed her advances.

“You are fond of Sloane, it would seem?”

Charlotte froze. It wasn’t a question. Those black eyes seemed to bore right through her as if he could read the traitorous secrets in her mind. It was a test, Charlotte realised, a God-damned test! Aleksei knew. He knew that there was a traitor in his midst.

“Sloane is a member of the council,” she replied evenly, “I respect him just as I do every other member of your assembly.”

“But do you trust him?” Aleksei asked. It looked like he was enjoying himself.

“No.” The word rang out between them and Aleksei raised one perfect black brow.

“No?”

Taking a deep breath, Charlotte stepped forward. “Forgive me, my Lord, but I don’t. There have been rumours...” she trailed off and Aleksei crossed his arms over his chest.

“Rumours, Charlotte? Rumours of what?”

“That someone within the council may be working against you.”

“And you didn’t feel this was something you should share with your king?” his voice was lower now, more menacing; a thinly-veiled threat. A silence longer than the day waiting for the night fell between them.

“I had hoped to find out who the traitor was before bringing it to your attention,” she replied eventually. “I wanted to please you.” Aleksei said nothing, waiting for her to continue. “I was hoping to coax Sloane into an admission,” she lied.

“By warming his bed?”

“Not all men are as impervious to my charms as you are, my Lord,” she allowed herself an arrogant smirk, and Aleksei rocked back on the balls of his feet, seeming to relax.

“And did your efforts lead to any proof of Sloane’s betrayal?”

“Not yet.” Aleksei let out a cruel, hollow laugh.

“It would seem you overestimate yourself, Charlotte,” he sneered. “In future, I suggest you report any suspicions to me and let me handle the punishment.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Charlotte nodded meekly, her blood raging. Again, he had belittled her; treating her with the same disdain with which he dealt with all of his people. She was certain, however, that she had shifted any suspicion away from herself.

“That will be all,” Aleksei smirked, waving her away. “Please have your staff prepare a vehicle for my return to Cliffdale.” Nodding, Charlotte flew up the stairs, waiting until she was safely ensconced in her private bedroom before laying waste to the room in a fit of rage.

Chapter 32

Isaiah didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he watched Austin preparing to attack for what felt like the hundredth time. The new Guardian was highly trained for combat, but his methods, so effective when it came to fighting humans, would not work as well when faced with a vampire opponent.

Austin threw himself toward Isaiah, his stake held innocently at his side, his free hand hurtling toward Isaiah’s face, but Isaiah dodged his attack easily and the next second, Austin was once again flat on his back on the floor.

“You need to understand that vampires are faster and stronger than you are,” he explained kindly, as he offered Austin a hand up. “You are used to waging war with weapons – guns that can be fired from a distance. Fighting a vampire is altogether different. Your stake is the only thing that stands between life and death and you need to be in extremely close proximity to use it. You fight vampires up close.”

“It feels foreign,” Austin admitted, testing the weight of the stake in his hand.

“You’ll get used to it. You already possess most of the skills of a Guardian – you’re strong, combat-ready, you know how to defend yourself,” he appeased, “now, you just need to master the stake.”

“You don’t use them,” Austin’s eyes flicked pointedly to the table in the corner of the room, on which lay Isaiah’s sword. “Why can’t I have one of those?”

“Because there is only one,” Isaiah smiled, “and to wield it comes with a high price.” He expected Austin to push for more information, but instead, the young Guardian merely shrugged before resuming his position.

“Again?” he asked.

“No.” Isaiah shook his head. “Lenora wants to set up for the wedding this afternoon. We had better vacate the room before she throws us out.”

“I was about to do just that,” Lenora’s voice called from the doorway. As always, Isaiah’s face split into a boyish grin when he saw her. Lenora smiled back.

“You need any help setting up?” Isaiah asked.

“No, I think I have it all covered. The ceremony starts at five so I have a couple of hours.”

“I’m going to take a shower,” Austin interrupted, moving past Isaiah and toward the doorway. Before he departed, he retrieved his revolver from a nearby chair and slipped it into the back of his jeans.

“I’ve told you that’s not much use to you anymore,” Isaiah pointed out wryly.

Austin shrugged. “I feel naked without it.”

Upstairs, Monique watched as Cosima braided Rowena’s dark hair. The gypsy woman looked radiant. She had a glow about her that lit her up from the inside. Monique hadn’t seen Jonas all day. He was with Balthazar, no doubt, preparing for the wedding too.

“You look beautiful,” Monique murmured shyly when Cosima finally stepped back to admire the end result of her handiwork.

“Thank you,” Rowena smiled. Her heavy dark hair, adorned with wildflowers, trailed over one shoulder and her dress was made of raw silk, golden in colour and low cut at the front. As she got to her feet and hitched up the heavy skirt so that she could cross the room to the full length mirror, Monique giggled at her bare feet. Cosima glanced sharply across at her, but Monique didn’t notice.

“You’re really not going to wear any shoes?” she asked incredulously.

“Really,” Rowena grinned.

A commotion sounded from outside and Monique moved across to the window.

“They’re back!” she gasped, spying Quinn amid a group gathered on the lawn below. “Quinn... she’s back!”

“Go!” Rowena urged, and Monique bolted, taking the stairs two at a time in her haste to find out what was going on.

Outside, it was chaos, as one by one the hostages they had rescued emerged from the car. When Braddon finally helped Avery out, her legs trembling with the exertion, a collective gasp ran through the crowd and Piper emitted a small shriek of astonishment.

Nobody said a word as Braddon led Avery forward. They were too stunned to speak, but, over her sister’s frail shoulder, Quinn met Isaiah’s amber eyes as he dropped his head in a nod of apology and respect. Quinn had been right all along, and he was acknowledging that fact.

“These women have been through hell,” Quinn told Piper, who was nearest, and also the one Guardian who Anna and the others wouldn’t be afraid of. “Please take them inside and get them some decent food and a hot bath. Keep them away from the others until I come.” Nodding, Piper ushered the three terrified women inside, casting anxious glances over her shoulder at Avery as she went. Anna, Laura and Jen followed mutely, too shocked and weary to resist.

Slowly the crowd parted, allowing Braddon and Avery through. Their astonishment at seeing Avery alive was second only to their amazement at watching Drake walking in the sun without any visible signs of discomfort. Quinn followed in Braddon and Avery’s wake, terrified to let her sister out of her sight, even for a second. She had already reached the hall when Daniel found his tongue.

“Hold up,” he broke the silence as Drake stepped inside after her, “where do you think you’re going?” Quinn opened her mouth to speak, but, to her surprise, her father beat her to it.

“Leave him be, Daniel,” Braddon growled, showing more defiance than Quinn would ever have believed him capable of. “Drake saved both Quinn and Avery’s lives. He can be trusted.”

“Tell that to Blair,” Daniel retorted callously and Quinn noticed Austin’s head jerk up at the sound of her name. “Besides,” Daniel continued, “you promised us an explanation.”

“Which he will no doubt give you,” Lenora’s voice called scathingly as she emerged from the library. “But, might I remind you, Daniel, that this is my home. And Drake is welcome. If you don’t like it, feel free to find alternate accommodation.”

“Get her upstairs,” Quinn murmured, as much as it pained her to watch Avery go. She would not leave Drake and Daniel until she was certain they could resolve their issues amiably, “I can handle this.”

Braddon nodded, guiding Avery up the staircase. Wearily, she turned to the two men facing off beside her.

“This really isn’t the time,” she said. To her surprise it was Drake who acquiesced, sensing her desperate need to go after her sister.

“What is it that you would like to know Daniel?” he sighed, and the crowd gathered around them all turned to gaze at the original Guardian.

“How do I know that we can trust you?” The question burst from Daniel’s lips with no hesitation.

“You can’t, obviously,” Drake replied, “and I am sure that nothing I could say would convince you of my sincerity, but surely you trust your fellow Guardians? If they have deemed me trustworthy, are you not at least prepared to try to do the same?”

“I have not lived over a thousand years by being reckless.”

“That may be true, but you will certainly not live a thousand more without my help.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The wards are outside the City walls. You cannot protect them on your own.”

“One vampire hardly makes a difference.”

“You would be surprised,” Drake murmured, so low that even Quinn struggled to catch the words and Lenora pressed her lips together as if to keep from saying something. Daniel looked set to argue, but then seemed to think better of it and changed tactic.

“How is it that you are able to walk in the sun?”

“That is something I cannot tell you.”

“Because the Taboo was broken?” Daniel snapped, managing to sound as smug as he was accusatory.

“I do not live by your laws, Guardian,” Drake warned, cautioning Daniel against going too far. The Taboo was a Fae law and, as such, was obeyed only by the Fae and their allies. Uncharacteristically, Daniel let it go.

“Are there others like you?”

“None that I know of.”

A silence ensued, fraught with tension, and Quinn held her breath as she waited for an outcome. Daniel could not banish Drake, not without the majority vote of the other Guardians, and certainly not without Lenora’s consent, but his opinion still mattered; to her at least. Eventually he stepped back, indicating that Drake should pass, and Quinn expelled the breath of air she had been holding in. Drake didn’t move immediately. Instead, he met Daniel’s resigned glare levelly.

“I will not make you regret this,” he murmured, extending his right hand. Daniel eyed it warily, a scowl marring his handsome face. Turning on his heel he walked away and stormed out of the house, leaving Drake standing with his arm extended. The other Guardians, unsure of what to do, dispersed, leaving Quinn and Drake alone at the foot of the stairs. Only Lenora and Isaiah remained, watching them intently.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn began, but Drake held up a hand to silence her.

“Go and see to your sister, Quinn. We will have time to talk later.”

“You can use your old room,” Lenora murmured when Quinn had disappeared up the stairs. Drake nodded his thanks and took his leave. Sensing Lenora’s agitation, Isaiah tried to explain.

“Daniel is only doing what he feels is best for all of us.”

“If you say so,” she snapped back.

“I know it’s hard for you to understand...”

‘Don’t you dare!” Lenora cut him off abruptly. “Don’t you dare say that I don’t understand! I was there, remember? I stood by you as a Guardian and I abandoned the ways of my own people to support your cause. I gave up everything for you.” She took a deep steadying breath and continued more calmly, “Don’t say I don’t understand.”

“Lenora,” his deep voice sent long forgotten feelings coursing through her and she turned to face him, seeing the emotion etched on his youthful face. It was criminal, she thought, that he was so beautiful, despite the years that had passed. Neither of them had aged in the centuries since they had been together as a couple, but he had always seemed out of her reach. No one had been more surprised than she when he had declared his love for her all those years ago. Trying desperately to control the feelings that were resurfacing, Lenora cast around for a change of topic.

“Drake is a good man,” she insisted haughtily. “One of the bravest, kindest people I have ever met.”

“You and he,” Isaiah pressed, “do you have a history?” She knew what he was asking and she answered honestly.

“We were lovers, once,” she admitted, “a long time ago.”

“Who ended it?” Isaiah’s morbid curiosity demanded to know, but, in truth, the fact was torturous.

“He did.” The words were simple but they cut him to the core.

“Do you still have feelings for him?” he asked, masochistically, and Lenora’s eyes widened in surprise as she realised why he was asking. Isaiah was jealous. The thought of her hankering after Drake crucified him.

“No,” she replied gently. Despite her anger, she could not voluntarily cause him pain. “I never loved Drake. I cared very deeply for him, but my heart belongs to someone else.” Her implied meaning was clear and Isaiah gasped as all pretences fell away, exposing only the honest truth. Throwing caution to the wind, Isaiah gripped her slender shoulders, pinning her in place and searching her face for answers.

“Do you love me, Lenora?” he asked. Her lips curled up in a smile, her eyes alight with mischief and something far more meaningful.

“I do,” she replied simply, but, before she could ask him the same, his lips claimed hers, silencing her.

Chapter 33

Quinn sat beside Avery’s bed holding her sister’s hand in both of her own. Avery had fallen asleep before Quinn had even reached her room and Quinn was loath to wake her, knowing that she needed her rest. For now, she was content just to gaze at Avery while she slept, a constant reassurance that she was really here and that it hadn’t all been a dream. The door creaked, signalling her father’s return.

“Everything’s calmed down,” he murmured, making his way quietly to her side. Gazing down at Avery, he placed a hand on Quinn’s shoulder.

“I still can’t believe it – that she’s really here.”

“She is,” Quinn’s own disbelief was second only to her elation that Avery was back. She couldn’t explain how she felt – the wonder that her sister was alive; safe, after all these years. She didn’t know where to put all the emotion bubbling up inside of her.

“It’s all thanks to you,” Braddon pointed out, but Quinn remained silent. She didn’t want any gratitude. Avery being back was all that mattered, and, as she stirred in her sleep, Quinn sat up straighter and Braddon’s hand tightened involuntarily on her shoulder. Avery had slept most of the way here from Summerfeld, waking only toward the end of the journey. She had been slightly out of it and the car trip had not been conducive to conversation so they had learned very little of what had happened to her.

They held their breaths as Avery’s eyes flickered, opening for just a moment before fluttering closed. A moment later she opened them again and jolted up in bed with a start. Instantly, her eyes were wide and frantic, her body rigid with fear and tension. Quinn clutched Avery’s hand, murmuring soothing words as her sister got her bearings. Taking in the warm, friendly room, Avery’s tanzanite eyes finally found Quinn’s. For a long moment neither spoke, the bond between them speaking the words that they couldn’t voice. Braddon watched as his daughters gazed upon one another – so similar and yet so different - and his heart swelled with pride and love. Avery, sweet and gentle, so much like her mother, and Quinn, compassionate, fearless, reckless, and just as stubborn as he was.

Like a dam wall, Quinn’s restraint finally burst. Tears sprang to her eyes as she seized Avery in a fierce bear-hug, squeezing her frail body so tightly that Avery laughed in protest.

“You found me,” she smiled when Quinn finally released her, retaining only her hand.

“I did,” Quinn replied, brushing away a tear. “Although I wouldn’t even have known to look if you hadn’t left me that voicemail.”

“I was worried you might have burned that phone seeing as how we were the only two people who knew the number.”

“That’s precisely why I didn’t burn it.”

“How long have I been gone?” Avery asked, after a long moment.

“Nearly three years,” Quinn whispered, and the blood drained from Avery’s face.

“Jack and Ava?”

“They’re safe. I took them when you... when it happened. A few months ago they were returned to Summerfeld, but Isaiah sent them to safety before the City was attacked.”

“Attacked?”

Quinn drew a deep breath. She couldn’t protect Avery from the truth. When she spoke of Summerfeld’s fall, Avery’s hands gripped her own so fiercely that her overgrown nails dug deep grooves into Quinn’s palms. She didn’t mention Tristan, wanting to get to the end before they dealt with his betrayal, but when she fell silent it was Avery who brought it up.

“Tristan brought them in, didn’t he?” Avery hissed, her tanzanite eyes flashing.

“You... you know about Tristan?” This had been the part that Quinn was dreading – telling her sister that her very own husband had betrayed them – but Avery didn’t seem surprised.

“Who the hell do you think handed me over in the first place?” she spat.

Quinn shuddered, a shock-wave coursing through her body, and Braddon visibly recoiled. Tristan had known all along. He’d known all this time that Avery was alive – had offered her up to Charlotte, of all people. He had betrayed the Guardians, but to Quinn, somehow, this meant nothing in comparison to betraying his own wife.

“Where is he?” Avery demanded. When neither of them spoke, she raised her voice. “Where is he?”

“He’s still with Charlotte,” Quinn admitted. “When we fled the City he got away.”

“That son of a bitch!” Avery’s fists clenched around her blanket, the tendons in her hands clearly visible. “Where is my crystal?” The question was unexpected.

“I have it.”

Avery visibly relaxed. “I knew you would figure it out.” She fell silent again but neither Quinn nor Braddon said a word as they waited for her to continue.

It didn’t take long, and when Avery finally began speaking, the words poured out of her uncontrollably as though she couldn’t stop if she tried.

“I don’t know how he got involved with them in the first place,” she rasped, furiously. “I don’t think he ever wanted me to know; but I caught him, red-handed. He pleaded with me not to say anything – he said he was making sure that Jack and Ava could stay with us and that I needed to trust him. He was delusional, acting like a depraved madman, but I managed to convince him I would go along with it. That’s when I hid the crystal,” she added, and the note that she had left made more sense to Quinn. “I was worried that I might not get word to you in time and he was watching my every move. I guess I didn’t have him as convinced as I had hoped. Eventually he realised I wouldn’t be swayed and he completely lost control. That’s when Charlotte arrived with a dozen vampires in tow. I tried to fight them off, but I couldn’t...” her voice broke and Quinn reached again for her hand, squeezing it tightly in silent reassurance.

“I don’t understand,” Braddon interjected, “if Tristan did all of this in the name of his family, and to keep you all together, how did he possibly expect it to work out after you discovered his duplicity?”

“Mind control,” Avery spat. “He wanted Charlotte to compel me to forget all about Summerfeld; about the wards, the Guardianship. Everything.”

“But a Guardian can’t be compelled,” Quinn interrupted.

“A Guardian can’t,” Avery agreed, “but a human can. And if the vampires win that’s exactly what we will be.” In a rush, Isaiah’s words came back to Quinn. If all the wards are destroyed the Guardians will cease to exist.

“He’s insane,” Quinn breathed.

“Is he inside the City?” Avery’s voice dropped to a low snarl.

“He’s with Charlotte and the others,” Quinn replied, sensing her sister’s intention. “You can’t get to him, Avery. Don’t even think about it.”

Avery didn’t respond, but something flashed in her eyes; a resolute vengeance that terrified Quinn. Something had changed in her twin – there was a darkness in her, a wild, frantic hysteria that Quinn sensed was barely being held in check.

“You need to rest, to get your strength back. Once you’re strong enough we can figure this out together.” Quinn said. Avery nodded obediently, but her body language spoke a different story.

Disconcerted, Quinn got to her feet. “I need to check on Anna and the others,” she murmured.

“They’re alive?” Hope flared in Avery’s eyes.

“They are. We got them out.”

“Thank God,” Avery sighed, settling back on the pillows. “I had to leave them. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“You did what you had to do,” Quinn countered. “If you hadn’t, all four of you would still be locked up down in that dungeon.”

Avery nodded absentmindedly. Her eyes darted toward the door as though something new had just occurred to her.

“What’s going on?” she asked, releasing Quinn’s hand and struggling to sit back up. Braddon tried to halt her progress, but Avery waved him away, her pale hand looking far too weak for the effort. “Where are we?” she persisted, “and why are there vampires among us?” Quinn doubted that Avery had been in any state to sense Drake in the car, but here in Lenora’s house the presence of vampires was impossible to miss. Knowing her sister would not relent until she heard the full story, Quinn told her the truth about Lenora and Drake and how they were helping the Guardians.

“We’re aligning ourselves with those monsters now?” Avery demanded when Quinn was done. She looked revolted. Given what she had been through, Quinn could understand.

“They’re not like the others.”

“They’re all the God-damned same!” Avery growled. “And you’re a fool if you believe any different.”

“Avery,” Braddon interrupted gently. “You’ve been away a long time. These vampires... without them we would never have escaped the City. The wards would all have been destroyed. They’re good people.”

“They’re not people, they’re monsters,” Avery reminded. “And just you wait... they’ll turn on you. It’s only a matter of time.” Quinn didn’t know what disturbed her more. The hatred in her sister’s heart or the fact that she said “you” instead of “us” as though she was no longer a Guardian.

Chapter 34

“We’ve come full circle!” Tristan yelled, running his hands through his messy hair. “We spent the whole day walking and we’ve barely covered two miles!”

“I must have misread the last sign,” Cara retorted hotly. ‘It’s not an exact science!”

“Or you’re deliberately trying to buy time!”

“What good would that do?” Cara’s cheeks flushed. “The sooner we find them, the sooner Zebulon and I are free of you people!” This is what Charlotte had promised, but Cara didn’t believe a word of it. Tristan was right, of course, she was procrastinating because Rowena was close. The signs were becoming closer and closer together and she suspected they would soon come across her and the others. Cara dreaded the confrontation and so, today, she had taken them on a different course, zigzagging across the countryside until they had ended up very near where they had started.

“Charlotte is going to throw a fit,” Tristan warned. The mention of her name reminded Cara of something and she quickly set about making the fire, fanning the flames before smothering them with the smoke-logged blanket. Tristan didn’t even bother questioning her unusual methods. Instead, he moved away, collecting wood so that they would have something to burn all night. The chill in the air was turning icy, and without the fire they would spend all night trying not to freeze.

As soon as the fire was blazing, Cara turned her attention to an empty plastic water bottle she had been carrying since this morning.

“I need your stake,” she instructed, but Tristan ignored her. “Your stake,” Cara pressed, more insistently.

“I don’t have one,” Tristan snapped. He was colluding with vampires now and Charlotte would not allow him to arm himself with a weapon that could destroy her kind. Cara smiled smugly, drawing the same conclusion.

“Your knife, then,” she sneered, holding out her hand. Gritting his teeth, Tristan tossed it across to her. A moment later he gave a roar of surprise.

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

Cara had pressed the point of the blade hard into her flesh, cutting a deep gash in her wrist. Ignoring him, she cast the knife aside, turning her arm so that the blood ran down her hand and ran off her finger into the plastic bottle.

“She will not lay a finger on me again,” Cara hissed, and despite himself, Tristan was impressed. The girl had guts, although, knowing Charlotte, she would not be so easily swayed.

“You’re only making things harder for yourself,” he warned, but Cara ignored him. Picking up the knife, Tristan wiped the bloodied blade on the grass.

The plastic bottle was half-filled by the time the trickle of blood began to slow to a steady dripping. Satisfied, Cara ripped a small length of cloth from her skirt and wrapped it tightly around the wound, applying pressure with her right hand. Tristan got up to make his daily call to Charlotte and Cara watched him head further out into the woods than normal. Glancing across at her husband she found him eying the blood-filled bottle with revulsion. As his eyes lifted to meet hers, a pained expression crossed his face.

“Are you okay?” he whispered. Cara nodded, but they both knew that nothing would ever be okay again. “What are you up to?” Zebulon asked. He knew Cara well enough to know that she would not get lost. She was up to something. Rather than tell him the truth which he could be compelled to reveal, Cara simply shook her head.

Tristan returned quickly, a frown marring his handsome face. His eyes were blue and his blond hair thick, but Cara thought his features were too refined, too weak, to be attractive.

“There’s a stream back there,” Tristan muttered, jerking his thumb in the direction he had just come from. “I thought you might want to wash.” Cara hadn’t bathed in days. Her hair stuck to her face in a filthy mass and she could smell her own perspiration with every move she made. When she adjusted her skirts, the stench was foul. As desperate as she was to be clean, his unexpected kindness unnerved her, so instead, she simply fixed him with a hateful glare. Let him deal with the stench. If it made him uncomfortable, all the better.

Chapter 35

The sounds of fighting reached her before Quinn even opened the front door. Outside on the front lawn, she found Liam, Garrett, Austin and Monique training, while Isaiah and the Orochian watched over them. The dragon looked unimpressed with the human frivolity, but Isaiah’s eyes were narrowed in concentration. He gave her a small nod by way of greeting, before turning his attention back to the others and Quinn moved around the sparring partners, keeping out of their way, until she came to stand beside him. On the opposite end of the vast lawn, a group of Fae were practising shooting, the sound of their arrows whistling through the air audible, even over the grunts of the training Guardians.

“Thanks for coming,” Isaiah murmured, as Austin dropped to the ground at Monique’s feet.

“How’s Avery?” Isaiah continued calmly, signalling to the pair to take a break.

“She’s okay. Weak, but alive.” She emphasised that last word and Isaiah smiled, registering the barb.

“I am sorry I doubted you, Quinn.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Quinn felt ashamed. “Isn’t the wedding starting soon?” Piper had told her all about it when she had popped in to visit Avery earlier.

“It’s almost time,” Isaiah confirmed, “but I thought I’d get in one last session before we stop for the day. Which is actually why I asked you to join us.”

“I’m not really in the mood for training.”

“I know, and I’m sorry to ask, but Liam and Garrett have such similar styles that Austin’s not really learning anything new.”

“Do you think he could even defend himself yet?”

“He has the basic skills, but his military training is too ingrained. And I can’t get him to forget about that gun.”

“What do you want me to do?” Quinn sighed.

Isaiah stepped forward and immediately, Liam and Garrett stopped sparring, turning to face him.

“Garrett, why don’t you head on inside,” Isaiah suggested, and Garrett trotted off, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck. “Quinn,” he gestured her forward and Liam grinned. Their relationship had improved since she had joined the Hunters’ ranks, but he had been a Hunter for a very long time and was no doubt looking forward to dropping her on her ass.

Monique and Austin were sitting on the grass nearby, watching, and Isaiah beckoned them over.

Without waiting for Isaiah’s signal, Quinn and Liam faced off. Quinn brought her arms up to protect her face and Liam sauntered forward insolently. Quinn wasn’t fooled. She had seen Liam fight, and he was quick – almost as quick as she was - and stronger too. He had one weakness, however, he was overconfident. Liam had grown lazy over the years and hardly spent any time training, whereas Quinn trained harder than any other Guardian.

Ten minutes later Liam’s smile had been wiped off his face. Despite his best efforts he hadn’t managed to land a single blow. Quinn seemed to anticipate his every move and moved like a ghost, so fast that he barely had time to correct himself.

“She’s tiring him out,” Isaiah murmured to Austin, who seemed highly amused by Quinn’s antics.

“So, you’re saying I should just dodge my opponents until they exhaust themselves?” he asked incredulously.

“No,” Isaiah laughed, “I’m saying you should read your opponent and play to his weakness.”

Austin stiffened suddenly and Isaiah didn’t have to turn around to know why. He sensed the vampire behind them, watching Quinn. Quinn also sensed Drake’s presence and the distraction was her undoing. Liam’s fist connected with her jaw, sending her reeling backwards, and a moment later he pinned her to the ground. The look of triumph on his face was infuriating.

“That’s another lesson,” Isaiah chuckled, as Quinn shoved Liam off her in a temper. “Don’t get distracted.”

“What’s the deal between the two of them?” Liam asked, as Quinn made her way over to where Drake was standing. His tone suggested he didn’t approve.

“Lesson number three,” Isaiah replied firmly, “don’t assume anything until you know all the facts.”

“Sorry,” Drake grinned, as Quinn rubbed her jaw.

“You don’t look it.”

“It’s nice to know I can still rattle you. How’s your sister?” he changed the subject before she could respond.

“She’s okay. Angry, obviously. I can’t believe Tristan sold her out to them; that he let her endure all of that.” The news that Tristan had faked Avery’s death had spread through the household like wildfire. “I had better get back to her,” Quinn added and Drake gave her a nod of understanding.

Quinn mentally prepared herself as she made her way up the stairs. She had thought it through and there was really no way she could keep Avery in the dark about what had happened between her and Tristan. It made her sick to the stomach to think that she had let herself get so close to him now that she knew what he had done, but Avery would find out sooner or later and Quinn would far rather she hear it from her directly.

Opening Avery’s door she expected to find Avery in bed, but, to her surprise, her sister was nowhere to be seen. Quinn suppressed a surge of panic.

“Avery?” she called.

“I’ll be out in a sec!” She slumped with relief at the sound of her sister’s voice coming from the adjoining bathroom.

“What have you done?” Quinn gasped when Avery finally opened the door. She was dressed in a pair of black pants which hung off her hips and a pale blue top. Loosely fitted as it was, it couldn’t disguise the protrusion of her ribs through the thin fabric. But it wasn’t the clothing that held Quinn’s gaze. Avery had hacked off her long hair just below her jaw-line. It was now shorter than Quinn’s and jagged, as though Avery had taken all her frustration and rage out in the act. It made her look harder, which Quinn supposed was fitting. She was struck once more by how changed Avery was.

Avery met her questioning look defiantly.

“I needed a change.”

“Okay,” Quinn nodded, “but... maybe you should let me neaten it up for you?” Avery shrugged, as though she couldn’t care less, but she did turn around and head back into the bathroom. Quinn followed, still not quite sure how to address what she had to say.

She worked in silence for a few minutes, the soft snick of the scissors the only sound. Avery’s hair littered the white tiles of the bathroom.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said eventually, not meeting Avery’s eyes in the mirror. “It’s about Tristan.” At the mention of his name, Avery’s shoulders tensed.

“What about him?”

“You have to understand, Avery, I didn’t know. I didn’t know what he had done to you. When they took Jack and Ava from me I was frantic, and I did everything I could to find them.”

“Find them? What do you mean find them?”

“I left. After you... died, I left Summerfeld to care for the twins. I was with them for two years and then they insisted I return...”

“But why would you do that? Kellan and Freya were supposed to...”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know you wanted them raised in the City. I thought...” She tried desperately to keep the accusation out of her voice, but Avery heard it.

“You thought you knew what was best for my children?”

“No! I didn’t... Avery, we hated growing up in Summerfeld! I thought you wouldn’t want that for Jack and Ava.”

“No, Quinn, you hated growing up in Summerfeld,” the words were harsh, raw. “I only went along with you because you were too damn selfish to see what I wanted. I liked living inside the City. I loved Kellan and Freya and I didn’t want to leave.”

“You never said anything...” Quinn paused. That wasn’t entirely true. It had taken some convincing to get Avery to leave the City.

“Just get back to the point,” Avery snapped. If Quinn had had reservations before, she was now dreading telling Avery the truth.

“When I came back, Tristan... he was different. He was kind and there for me. We...” She didn’t finish the sentence. Avery spun around to face her, an expression of disgusted understanding blazing across her face.

“Tell me you didn’t sleep with him?” The truth was etched on Quinn’s face, the scissors hanging limply at her side. In the silence that followed Quinn focused on the sound of Avery’s breathing, too ashamed to look her in the eye, which is why she didn’t see it coming. Avery slapped her hard, across her left cheek, leaving a ringing sound echoing through the tiled room. Quinn’s face flamed as her sister stalked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of Avery’s hair on the floor, Quinn stood that way for the longest time.

It was Lenora who found her. “There you are! You do know the wedding is about to start?” Catching sight of Quinn’s face, she lowered her voice, only marginally, “I don’t know what it is, but it can wait. I’ve outdone myself with preparing this ceremony and you need to wash your face and get your pretty little self downstairs. You can deal with your issues later.” When Quinn didn’t move, Lenora heaved a dramatic sigh and swept from the room. A moment later a low voice sounded from the doorway.

“Quinn?” Drake’s voice.

“I should’ve known she’d send you,” Quinn sighed.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m assuming you and Avery had a fight?”

“You could call it that.”

“Was it about Tristan?” Hearing him say it only embarrassed her more.

“I deserved it. I slept with the man who kidnapped her, took her away from her children and had her tortured. Never mind that, he’s responsible for the death of hundreds of the wards that I swore to protect.” She gave a gasping sob and Drake moved, putting his arms around her.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Whose fault is it then?” she gazed up at him hollowly. Her body trembled, waves of shame and despair crashing over her, but she was dry-eyed.

“Not yours,” he murmured again, pulling her against him and letting the warmth of his body melt the icy fear in her bones.

Chapter 36

Rowena descended the stairs, her fingers gripping Jonas’s arm. He had removed his cast himself, much to Rowena’s dismay, but he had insisted he would walk her down the aisle properly. At least he had left the cast on his right arm. The plush carpet was soft beneath her bare feet and Jonas gazed down at her proudly.

“You look beautiful,” he smiled, as they came to a halt outside the library door.

“Thank you. Should we do this?”

“Yes, let’s,” he nodded, straightening up and stepping forward.

When they entered the room, Rowena caught her breath. Every single inhabitant of the house was present, save for the three women who had been rescued by Quinn and her father. Every Guardian had made it, even Quinn’s sister, so recently returned to them, as well as all the wolves, and members of the Fae. Rowena felt tears prick at her eyes. She couldn’t believe they would set aside time in the midst of everything they were going through to be there for her and Balthazar. She spotted Monique near the front, waving happily, and noticed how Jonas’s face softened as he caught sight of her. It struck Rowena that in the short space of time they had been together, their group had become like a family – looking out for one another, sharing their trials and their joys. Swallowing the lump in her throat she focused on the tall, dark-haired man at the front of the room. Balthazar. He looked so handsome; tall and straight-backed, but his right leg twitched as she approached and it melted her heart that he was so nervous.

When they reached the make-shift altar, Jonas kissed her cheek and placed her hand in Balthazar’s. Rowena noticed sunlight dancing on his face and realised that Lenora had left the curtains slightly open, allowing the last light of day inside. The vampires present were seated just out of range of the light. Lenora had truly thought of everything.

Cosima cleared her throat, her voice trembling as she began speaking, but growing in confidence with each passing second. The ceremony was a simple one and Rowena knew the words by heart, but they held new meaning now that they applied to her. Cosima stumbled over a particularly sentimental bit, and Rowena turned to smile reassuringly at her. As she did so, something caught her eye through the window and her breath caught in her throat. Cosima’s voice faded away as she focused on the grey smoke rising high above the trees far in the distance. Without realising it, she dropped Balthazar’s hand, stepping forward as she realised what it meant. When her hand touched the glass, so cold in comparison to Balthazar’s warm hand, she felt an icy dread run through her. Cosima had stopped speaking and an unearthly hush fell across the room.

At the same moment Evangeline stood, her milky eyes fixed on something no one else in the room could see. Weaving discreetly through the chairs she came to stand next to Drake who was sitting on the edge of the row, beside Lenora. Drake gazed up at her as she reached forward, laying a rough hand on his cheek.

“The time is coming,” she rasped, “you need to prepare yourself.”

Only a few people heard her. Few witnessed Drake’s shoulders stiffen at her words. The rest of the congregation were focused on Rowena, her hand still resting on the glass, her eyes watching the smoke rings in the distance.

“Rowena?” Balthazar’s low voice was trembling with uncertainty. Turning on the spot, her eyes found Quinn’s and their gazes locked. A silent question crossed Quinn’s face and Rowena nodded.

“They’re coming,” she announced, the words stark and sharp in the absolute silence of the vast room.

In the meleé that followed, Quinn and the other Guardians darted forward, listening intently as Rowena explained. The smoke was a sign, she said. It meant danger was coming.

“But it’s a gypsy signal,” Lenora interrupted, her fangs slightly extended, “surely the gypsies aren’t dangerous?”

“It’s a warning. Something is wrong.”

“I can’t believe you would be so foolish as to leave clues how to find us!” Braddon yelled, his fear for Quinn’s safety making him harsh.

“Those women look to me for protection. I couldn’t let them go without offering them a way back to me if they needed it!” Rowena was distraught but she would not apologise for considering her own people’s safety.

“Well, it looks like they found you,” Daniel snapped. “Only an army of vampires may well have found you too and the last of Summerfeld’s wards in the process.”

“It’s still light out,” Avery interjected, appearing at Quinn’s side. “There aren’t any vampires out there – not yet, anyway.”

“There’s not much time,” Daniel said. Avery was right but it didn’t mean that the vampires weren’t holed up nearby waiting for the sun to set. “We’re leaving in five,” he instructed the Hunters and Liam and Garrett immediately left the library. Quinn, however, stayed where she was.

“Isaiah,” Daniel turned to the taller Guardian.

“I’ll stay,” Isaiah nodded, knowing what he was about to say. If things went wrong, Isaiah would need to protect the others and get them away to safety.

“I want to come with you,” Braddon insisted, but Daniel shook his head, just as Quinn did.

“This is a job for the Hunters,” Daniel insisted. “We need to search the area. We aren’t going to confront them, not if there are too many, but we need to know what’s out there. You’ll only slow us down.” Guardians, while exceptionally fast and strong, were rated low when compared to the Hunters’ abilities.

“I’ll take care of her,” Drake murmured soothingly and Braddon calmed down.

“You’re not…”

“Really?” Drake interrupted Daniel before he could finish his sentence. “You’re really going to try to tell me what I can and cannot do?” Rolling his eyes, he jabbed his finger at Daniel’s chest “Guardian,” he pointed out, and then, jabbing his own chest, “vampire. I don’t answer to you, remember?”

“I want him with us,” Quinn added, defying Daniel to contradict her. “He’s the best weapon we have.”

“Fine,” Daniel hissed, as Piper and Monique rushed back into the room, their arms laden.

“Liam and Garrett have already suited up,” Monique gasped breathlessly as she passed Quinn a heavy stake-belt, laden with a variety of stakes. Piper handed another to Daniel, and the two quickly belted the heavy leather around their waists. The weight was uncomfortable, but reassuring.

“I want four flare guns,” Daniel barked, without so much as a thank you and Piper bustled off again.

“What about the Orochian?” Monique asked, her youthful face hard. “He could help.”

“No,” Daniel shook his head. “We don’t know what’s out there yet. I don’t want to risk the beast being seen if we encounter nothing but a group of weary gypsies. Keep him quiet, and for Eldon’s sake, keep him earthbound. If you see a flare…” he turned back to Isaiah, who simply nodded his understanding.

As they turned to leave, Rowena grabbed Quinn’s arm. Her dark hair was already escaping its heavy braid and her face was flushed. The wedding was all but forgotten.

“My friends wouldn’t have brought them here unless their lives depended on it. Please look after them.”

“They did send a warning,” Quinn acknowledged, “I’ll do my best to protect them.” She cast around for Avery wanting to say goodbye. Their earlier dispute suddenly seemed trivial, but her sister had merged with the crowd leaving the library and there was no time left.

The four Hunters raced across the vast expanse of Lenora’s property, Quinn’s legs warming quickly at the fast pace. The smoke was still barely visible over the trees to the North, but it was dissipating quickly. It didn’t matter now, though, they knew where they were headed. Only when they reached the tree line of the woods did they slow down ever so slightly. They moved like ghosts through the trees, the epitome of stealth, but it was impossible to be completely silent. Drake stayed close to Quinn, a shadow at her side, determined to protect her. He listened intently for any sound that would alert them to danger, but the woods were still.  Only when they were half a mile out from their destination did they slow down, taking extra care where they placed their feet and making sure not to snap any dry twigs; making no sound at all.

Quinn’s heart raced in her chest, her fear not for herself but for those they had left behind: the wards; the gypsies, the women they had saved from Charlotte’s dungeon, and most of all, for Avery, so recently returned to her, so changed and yet still so fragile. Quinn gritted her teeth vowing that no vampire would get near her sister. She would not allow it, even if it meant sacrificing her own life.

Their shadows lengthened, the sun dipping low in the sky and Quinn realised with a sickening dread that they probably wouldn’t make it back to Lenora’s before nightfall.

“If we hurry we’ll make it back,” Drake murmured, sensing her thoughts.

“If we’re going to search the area, that’s highly doubtful,” she replied, unable to hide her growing concern for the others. Isaiah would protect them. There was nothing to be done and now was not the time to hesitate.

Chapter 37

Back at Lenora’s, Isaiah was preparing for the worst. Every Guardian who remained was fully-armed. Isaiah spotted Austin’s handgun slotted into one of the pouches on his stake belt, but he refrained from commenting. If the gun gave him a sense of security, however false, so be it. The new Guardian was hiding his nerves well.

“Isaiah.” It was Channon’s voice at his side. She had partially shifted, her eyes gleaming yellow and her claws out as the imminence of attack loomed over them all. The pack found that this half-wolf, half-human form was best suited to fighting, because they could use their wolf-strength while still being able to communicate with the others. The wolves would fight; there was no point asking them not to; not that Isaiah would. He needed them. “We’ve sent all the civilians inside,” Channon continued, “and most of the Fae women with them.” Her tone indicated she wasn’t happy about something, and, as he glanced over his shoulder, he found the reason. Freya and Evangeline had joined the ranks of the Fae men congregated on the lawn. Both carried their bows.

“It goes against everything I believe too,” Isaiah murmured, “but we have no choice. If a fight is coming we’ll meet it with everything we have.” Channon nodded, acknowledging his decision, and then turned to walk back to Rafe and the other four wolves.

Balthazar loitered at the edge of their group. Earlier, Isaiah had sent Rowena and Cosima upstairs but Balthazar had refused his request to join them. Instead, he surprised Isaiah by requesting something in return; a stake. Isaiah doubted Balthazar would be able to use a stake effectively, let alone get close enough to a vampire to try, but wordlessly, he handed over a light wooden stake. It wasn’t as effective as the metal variety, but it would be easier for Balthazar to manoeuvre. He also handed over several small bottles of Cliffdale water.

“This will hurt them,” Isaiah had advised solemnly. “It won’t completely incapacitate them, but it might give you a fighting chance.” Balthazar had nodded, his dark eyes flashing.

They were ready, Isaiah told himself now. Ready as they would ever be. His gaze flickered to the darkened window on the second storey and his excellent hearing picked up the soft sounds of sobbing.

“Lenora,” he called, beckoning her over. It was surreal to see her tightening a stake belt around her waist, but she came at his call, fastening the buckle as she moved. “I need you to stay with the others upstairs to keep them calm. I can’t afford a panic.”

“No way,” Lenora shook her dark head vehemently. “This is my house. Those bastards aren’t getting in here without a fight.” That posed another problem. Lenora was the rightful owner of the house and, as a vampire, the typical rules of ownership didn’t apply. Vampires didn’t need to be invited in.

“Please,” Isaiah sighed, cursing her fiery nature. “If they get in the fight will come to you, regardless, but I’d prefer to know that you are out of harm’s way.”

“Well then, I suggest you sharpen that sword,” she grinned, showing her fangs. “Rowena is more than capable of managing them upstairs.” Without another word she turned on her heel and began instructing her vampire staff to arm themselves. She had sent the human staff upstairs with the others.

“It’s not going to burn you, you fool,” she shrieked, as one of her stablemen eyed the pile of stakes warily, “but it’ll hurt like hell if I shove it up your ass, which I’ll definitely do if you don’t pick it up.” Isaiah wondered how wise it was, forcing the vampires to fight their own kind, but he didn’t argue.

A shrill whinny rent the air.

“They’re going to kick down those doors,” Kellan groaned. The dull thudding had been growing consistently louder for the past half hour. The herd had picked up on the tension in the air and were becoming a danger to themselves. “Velkan,” Kellan murmured, a low apology. A flicker of dismay crossed the young faery’s face, but obediently, he shouldered his bow and loped toward the stables. “Freya,” Kellan continued, “he could use your help.” Freya didn’t argue and Isaiah saw Kellan breathe a small sigh of relief as she disappeared into the dark building. Sage was upstairs with Anaise and Isadora, and Isaiah knew that Freya would rather stand between the danger and her daughter than wait for it to come for her.

He watched Freya go, his thoughts on the herd. It would be difficult to defend both the house and the stables. Making a lightning decision, he rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“I’m sorry,” he announced, entering Lenora’s bedroom, where all the members of the Fae had taken refuge, along with the women they had saved from Charlotte’s and most of Lenora’s human staff. “I need you to head down to the stables.” It would be easier to protect them if they were all together and there was no way they could bring the herd up here. Besides, the presence of the Fae would calm the herd drastically.

Anaise didn’t hesitate, cradling baby Sage as she rushed past him, and the others followed suit, their eyes wide with fear. As they fled, Isaiah scanned the room.

“Where’s Avery?” he asked, as Rowena reached his side. She had her arm around Anna’s shoulders. The young human girl was terrified and still weakened from her extended ordeal.

“I haven’t seen her since we left the library,” Rowena replied. “She must still be in her room. I can go and check…”

“No,” Isaiah shook his head, “you stay with them.” Laura and Jen were right behind her, huddled together. “I’ll get her.” The three women were terrified and Rowena was the person who calmed them the most.

Following in their wake, he paused outside Avery’s door, rapping firmly on the dark wood.

“Avery?” he called, but no answer was forthcoming. There wasn’t any time to waste. Opening the door, Isaiah stepped into the room. “I’m sorry, but…” the words died on his lips as he scanned the empty room. Avery wasn’t there. He darted to the small adjoining bathroom but it was empty. Cursing, Isaiah tried to recall the last time he had seen Avery. She had attended the wedding and she had definitely been there when Daniel called the Hunters to action, but he hadn’t seen her since.

Back downstairs he reached the stables at the same time as the others. Velkan had emerged, confusion etched on his brow as he looked to Isaiah for answers.

“I think it’s better that all of our wards stay together,” Isaiah explained. Velkan frowned even more deeply and Isaiah understood. While it would make it easier to protect them if they were together, it would also create a slaughterhouse if the vampires did manage to break through their defences. Still, Isaiah was certain this was the best course for now. He would wait for word from the Hunters. If they had to flee, at least this way it would be quicker.

“Where do you want us?” Channon asked. The six wolves had gathered around the doorway, ready to protect the Fae. Rafe stood beside Channon, his expression grim.

“Right here,” Isaiah replied. The other Guardians made their way toward them, fanning out to surround the stables, as did the Fae archers.

Across the lawn, Monique was having a hard time settling the Orochian. Like the unicorns, the dragon seemed to sense that the Guardians were unsettled, and Monique pulled frantically at his hideous, bat-like ears, trying to soothe him. Jonas was doing his best to help although his presence did nothing to calm the beast.

“I need you to go to the kitchens,” Monique murmured, keeping her voice low and calm. “Bring me as much meat as you can, the bloodier the better.” From their position on the lawn she could just see the stables around the side of the house and the Guardians surrounding them. Further along was the reinforced barn housing the baby Chumana dragons, Lucky among them. So many lives were at stake. Monique’s heart was pounding in her chest, a frantic beat that seemed to fill her ears, muffling out the sound of everything else. Her thoughts kept drifting toward her mother. She had not seen Camille for weeks and suddenly she feared that she might never see her again. The thought brought tears to Monique’s eyes. The Orochian lumbered to his feet once more and Monique grabbed the tip of his left wing, pulling it down toward the ground. She had discovered that this sometimes worked, unbalancing him and forcing him to lie down.

Fortunately with so many people staying in the house the refrigerator was full. Jonas grabbed a couple of steaks, tearing the packaging as he raced back toward the front lawn. Monique took them from him the second he reached her, worried that the dragon might take Jonas’s hand off in an attempt to grab the dripping meat. The smell was pungent, and Monique tossed a steak over his head. The Orochian snatched it out of the air, swallowing it whole and making a screeching noise deep in its chest.

“It’s working,” Monique sighed as she tossed another hunk of meat and the dragon settled back onto his haunches before lowering his belly to the ground. She threw the balance of the steaks over, one by one, knowing it was nowhere near enough to sate his enormous appetite, but hoping it would be enough to keep him from flying off until the others arrived. Rubbing her blood-streaked hands on her jeans, she started pulling at his ears again.

“What else can I do?’ Jonas asked, taking her free hand in his.

“Could you ask Kellan to check on Lucky?” she pleaded. The baby dragon was always fractious without her, but Monique could not leave the Orochian, at least until Daniel returned or sent word.

“Sure,” Jonas smiled, turning toward the stables, but Monique called hastily after him.

“Once you’ve asked him, I want you to stay in there with the others.”

“What?” The thought of taking shelter with the others and leaving her out here all alone was incomprehensible. “No.”

“Yes, Jonas. I’m a Guardian; this is where I’m supposed to be. You are supposed to be in there, with your ...” The word ‘father’ died on her lips as she spotted Balthazar standing near Isaiah, a stake gripped firmly in his hand. Jonas followed the direction of her gaze and almost smirked.

“You were saying?” he asked. Knowing she would get no joy out of him now that his father had joined the Guardian ranks to defend the wards, she shook her head in defeat. At least if things went bad she could send him away on the dragon, she thought wryly.

Chapter 38

Aleksei stood near the base of Dragon’s Peak, his eyes searching for signs of life. The mountain was silent as though its inhabitants sensed the danger awaiting them. In the dark it was difficult to locate any of the dragons that occupied the peaks, but his exceptional eyesight soon spotted movement.

“There,” he raised a thin, pale finger in the direction of the beast, clawing its way silently up the broadside of the mountain until it came to rest on a rocky outcrop. Aleksei could just make out the dried branches, thicker than his arms, hanging over the ledge. He grinned malevolently. That would explain why the dragon had dared move. She was protecting her eggs.

Sloane nodded, calling forward the man behind him. The man, a trained soldier, held a cylindrical weapon in his hands and he nodded curtly as he took up position. His eyes were glazed, having been under Sloane’s compulsion for days.

“I can see it,” the soldier intoned without emotion and Sloane narrowed his eyes in confusion. No human could see that far. “Heat-seeking,” the man explained, and Sloane took that to mean that the weapon he wielded could detect the dragon, even if he couldn’t. Aleksei smirked. He had been right about the humans’ weapons being formidable. They were exactly what he needed. Even so, he had not thanked or acknowledged Sloane’s accomplishment in securing them. The councilman had betrayed him and he would not live to see the balance of their enemies destroyed.

“Be prepared,” Sloane warned the rest of the men standing further along the shores of the lake. Each of the compelled soldiers held the same weapon. As one, they nodded, their eyes fixed on the peak above them.

Aleksei watched the beast for a moment longer, relishing its inevitable death. Without taking his eyes off it, he issued the kill instruction, “Fire.”

Instantly a booming noise reverberated around them. The soldier staggered under the force of the discharge, but Aleksei didn’t notice. He watched as the missile flew straight and true, hissing through the air, a small jet of smoke marking its trajectory as it homed in on its target. An instant later a ball of fire erupted where the dragon had been only moments before, and a high-pitched squeal reached them as the burning body fell down the side of the mountain. The sound was amplified, as, one by one, the remaining dragons took flight, screeching as they rose up into the air, revealing themselves.

Aleksei kept his eyes fixed on the mountain as, in unison, the rest of the missiles were fired, bringing down his enemies. His satisfaction was short-lived, however. It was soon apparent that his men had underestimated the number of dragons dwelling in Summerfeld, and half a dozen dark forms escaped, unscathed, and rocketed toward where they stood. Helpless, Aleksei watched as the beasts streaked over their heads, fleeing the sanctuary of the mountain. In a blind fury, he turned on Sloane, his fangs fully extended. The incandescent rage on his face was plain to see and Sloane stumbled backwards, offering an apology that he knew would not appease his master. Ruthlessly, Aleksei plunged his hand through the vampire’s flesh, ripping his heart from his chest without any hesitation. In the seconds that followed he laid waste to the soldiers that Sloane had recruited, tearing through flesh and bone as he sated his uncontrollable desire to maim and kill. Vampires fled in every direction, escaping his wrath, and watching from a safe distance.

When he was done and not a single man lived, Aleksei rose, the powerful muscles in his back and shoulders bulging under the dark fabric of his sweater.

“Cowards!” he roared, blood and spittle spraying from his lips as he clenched his hands into fists. Dimitri returned first.

“My Lord,” he bowed low, “Sloane...” he gazed down at the lighter patch of soil, coated in a fine grey ash.

“Sloane was a traitor.” Aleksei was unapologetic. Tuning on his heel, he walked away, traversing the water’s edge. Silently, the others followed.

Aleksei was so blinded by rage that at first he didn’t notice the strange marks in the muddy earth. He had walked a full five steps further before he swivelled on the spot, his dark eyes tracking the ground.

“No!” he hissed, moving faster now, following the smooth trail. It ended at the long grass surrounding the lake, but even here, the grass was flattened slightly. Only a few yards in Aleksei found what he was looking for. A merman lay gasping on the dry grass, his breathing shallow as he clung to life. His golden hair covered his face as he lifted himself up weakly onto his arms and pulled himself forward, leaving another inch of grass flattened before he collapsed to his chest once more. He must have been at this for hours.

Aleksei feasted on the pitiful sight even as his mind demanded answers. The merman’s tail, silver in the water, had begun to atrophy, a colourless, flaking rot, and the stench of decay was heavy in the air. For a few moments, he lay perfectly still, face down, and Aleksei feared he might have died, but then he spoke.

“You cannot win.” His voice was hoarse and gravelly, a combination of his origin and the pain he had endured. Aleksei did not respond as the merman rolled over to face him. His onyx eyes were enormous, dominating most of his hideous face. His skin was furrowed, like newspaper that had been wet and left to dry in the baking sun, and a deep hollow had formed in the centre of his chest. The merfolk could breathe out of the water, but their bodies needed to be hydrated frequently and they couldn’t withstand the fierce heat of the sun for extended periods. From the look of him, this merman had spent most of the day exposed. The poison that Aleksei’s minions had dumped into the lake had no doubt weakened him too quickly.

“I poisoned that lake days ago,” Aleksei spoke without a trace of contrition. “How is it that you survived so long?” To his surprise, the merman smiled, revealing a row of pointed teeth.

“We all survived, vampire king.” It was an insult, a slur against his name and his family, and Aleksei’s lip curled at the blatant disrespect.

“That is impossible.”

A wheezing intake of breath before the merman responded.

“You will never reach the caves,” he rasped, and Aleksei felt the blood run cold in his veins. A cry of rage built up in his chest, growing by the second. The merman seemed to sense it, and he laughed, a dry, rasping rattle in his chest.

“Where were you going?” Aleksei demanded. If what he said was true, the merfolk had survived the poison, so why had he risked crossing the contaminated lake to get here.

“We all survived,” the merman echoed, ignoring the question, and Aleksei knew that he would never answer the question, that he would never surrender.

“Not all of you,” Aleksei growled, stepping forward.

Chapter 39

The small group had slowed to almost a crawl as they approached the place from which the smoke had risen. Drake cocked his head to one side and held up a hand to halt the others. They were close now, very close. He could smell the smoke from the fire and hear the crackling of the kindling as it burned. He could also detect the steady rhythm of heartbeats. What he couldn’t sense were any vampires, which was unsurprising, given that the fading sunlight still filtered through the trees. Peering through a small copse ahead, he spotted a flash of colour against the canopy of green.

“There,” he mouthed, pointing to the place where Cara sat.  Quinn nodded, moving forward, and the other Hunters followed suit, taking cover behind the tree trunks as they got closer and closer to the threat. Finally, when they were only a few yards away, a familiar voice rang out, echoing through the trees around them, louder than expected.

“I know you’re there, show yourself!”

Quinn’s blood boiled at the sound of Tristan’s voice. He didn’t sound frightened, only startled, and Quinn could understand why. He had sensed Drake – sensed a vampire nearby, as any Guardian could. Inwardly she cursed their foolishness. She should have insisted Drake stay back until they had investigated properly.

Tristan waited, hearing nothing in return. He was not afraid, vampires were his allies, but it was impossible for a vampire to be waltzing around in the woods before sundown.

“Who’s there?” he yelled again, louder this time. In the silence that followed, his suspicion grew. Whoever was out there had definitely heard him, and yet they remained silent. Signalling Cara and Zebulon to stay quiet, he slowly scanned the trees around them. The crunch of a twig behind him alerted him only a second before a cold, furious voice announced, “Why, hello Tristan, fancy meeting you here.”

Tristan whirled to face Quinn as she approached, his face falling slightly at the sight of the three Hunters behind her. Quinn didn’t hunt with this pack; had not done so previously anyway, but Tristan had watched Blair die and he knew that a replacement would have come forward. Glancing down at Quinn’s wrist, his suspicions were confirmed by the black tattoo. Funnily enough, he wasn’t surprised that it was Quinn who had been chosen. In fact, given her skills, he had often wondered why she hadn’t been branded a Hunter right from the beginning.

“Quinn,” he smiled brazenly, “always a pleasure, love.”

Quinn wasn’t fooled as his eyes flickered heavenward, gauging the time before the sun set.

“Not soon enough,” she taunted. “By the time your friends arrive you will be long gone.”

Tristan was distracted then, by the arrival of the vampire, Drake. The sight of him, standing out in the open, in the cold light of day, shocked Tristan to his core.

“How…?” Forgetting his nonchalance, his mouth hung open as his mind tried to process what he knew was impossible.

“Never mind that,” Quinn snapped, drawing herself up to her full height. She felt a thrill of pride, knowing that the mere sight of Drake terrified Tristan. “What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m looking for you.”

“She’s coming!” Cara finally broke her long silence realising that salvation was close by.

“Shut up!” Tristan roared, but Cara spat at him before continuing, in a rush. “Charlotte will be here soon after sunset. She wanted me to bring them to you.”As if realising what she had just said, she added. “I’m sorry – I tried to delay them. I tried to send a warning…”

“Rowena got your warning,” Quinn interrupted. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Warning?” Tristan murmured, his eyes scanning the small clearing where they had settled. As his eyes found the fire and then the heavy blanket nearby, they narrowed furiously. “You stupid bitch,” he hissed, taking a step toward Cara. In an instant, Drake appeared between them, a low growl emanating from deep in his chest.

“You will never hurt anyone again,” Quinn announced, drawing his attention back to her.

“Are you going to kill me, Quinn?” he asked, and then, answering his own question, “of course you’re not. You could never hurt me. I’m your weakness.”

“Not anymore you’re not,” Quinn countered. “Now you’re just the asshole who kidnapped my sister and murdered my friends.” There was something in her eyes, a glacial, unforgiving glint that sent a shiver down Tristan’s spine. He glanced back at the tattoo on her wrist, before his eyes found hers again, unyielding, brutal, determined. And finally he realised that she would kill him. The others stood around her, not saying a word, but Tristan saw the anger reflected on all of their faces; a cold fury at what he had done. Dropping all traces of arrogance, Tristan tried to explain himself.

“You don’t understand,” he stammered. “I had to do it. Charlotte threatened me; she forced me to help her. I never meant to hurt Avery – I love her! I do,” he added defiantly as Quinn barked out a scornful laugh. “She means everything to me! I did all of this for her... and Jack and Ava,” he added, appealing to Quinn’s love for the children. “So that we could be together; so that we could be a family. I know you would have wanted the same,” he insisted.

“You are insane,” Quinn murmured, her voice fatally gentle. “Do you honestly believe that there is anything you can say that will excuse the slaughter of hundreds of innocents? The extinction of entire species?”

“I…” Tristan’s eyes darted frantically back and forth as he finally accepted that no help was coming, that he would not be able to talk his way out of this and he would probably die, right here in this clearing. “Avery’s alive!” he yelled, snatching at the one thing that might save him.

His stomach dropped, as, instead of relief, something close to satisfaction pulled at the corner of Quinn’s lips. She knew, he realised. And if she knew, that meant…

“You have her,” he whispered. Quinn opened her mouth to retort, but instead, a different person answered his question; one who sounded just like her.

“Disappointed, darling?”

All eyes turned to watch as Avery stepped out from behind a gnarled, dying elm tree. She was pale and dark shadows hung beneath her eyes, but a quiet strength radiated from her. She looked part-angel, part-demon and Quinn was terrified. Avery’s hacked hair hung in a matt, limp curtain and she had lost so much weight that her cheekbones were angular in her face, making her look almost inhuman. Quinn was so stunned that her sister had managed to make it all this way on her own, that for a moment she was too shocked to speak. Tristan, however, had no such reserve.

“Avery,” he pleaded, taking a hesitant step toward her. And that’s when Quinn saw it; the desperate, frantic adoration in his eyes. Tristan did love Avery, in his own sick way - an obsessive, insane, deeply disturbing way. Quinn almost pitied him as she watched the pathetic way he gazed upon her sister. “You have to understand,” Tristan continued, his voice breaking, “everything I did… everything that’s happened, it was all…”

“For me?” Avery crooned, walking slowly toward him. Her collar bones jutted out though the thin cotton of her shirt and she had one hand in the pocket of her jeans, the other behind her back. Quinn narrowed her eyes, knowing she was missing something, but not able to put her finger on it.

“Yes,” Tristan breathed earnestly, stumbling toward Avery, desperate for her forgiveness. “For you. And Jack and Ava.” With each passing second they drew closer together and Quinn recoiled, as she finally spotted the flash of silver clasped in her sister’s hand.

“Avery don’t!” Quinn yelled, and Avery turned to her in surprise. “Don’t,” Quinn shook her head, wondering how far gone her sister really was. “If you kill him, a new Guardian will emerge to take his place,” she spoke in a soft, soothing tone, as though she was explaining to a child. “That Guardian will report to Summerfeld. The City is swarming with vampires. I know you want revenge for everything that was done to you, but this is not the way.”

Tristan’s eyes widened as he realised what Quinn was saying and he stumbled backwards, his eyes wide as Avery slowly withdrew the stake she had hidden behind her back.

“You wouldn’t…” he shook his head in denial.  Daniel stepped quickly between him and Avery as Quinn shook her head sadly.

“She would,” she told Tristan, with no compassion in her voice. “This is what you have done, in the name of love of your family.”

Chapter 40

Isaiah heard them approaching before anyone else and he jogged over to meet them as they approached. His eyes widened at the sight of Tristan, but there was no time for explanations. The sun had set a few minutes before.

“They’ll be here soon. Charlotte will track their scent,’ Drake gestured at the two weary gypsies. Cara’s arm was still bleeding through the strip of cloth she had bound tightly around it, but even without the scent of blood, the gypsies had obviously not bathed in days. It wouldn’t take long for Charlotte to track their scent, given how fresh it was.

“Take them into the stables,” Isaiah instructed. “The others are all in there.” Liam and Garrett hesitated. They were holding a pale-faced Tristan between them. He didn’t resist. His face was blank as though he had completely withdrawn into himself.

“Tie him up,” Daniel barked, and the two Guardians led Tristan toward the stables just as Rowena emerged. Giving a cry of relief, she flew to Cara’s side, embracing the woman tightly. Balthazar followed closely behind her.

“I’m sorry,” Cara murmured, over and over again. Her face glistened with tears of shame, but Rowena brushed them away, chiding softly.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Actually, it is her fault,” Quinn interrupted. “She led them here.”

Rowena bristled, but stood her ground. She and Quinn had always enjoyed a mutual respect for one another, but she would not allow Quinn to make Cara feel any worse about herself than she so obviously already did.

“Well if she did, she had no choice,” Rowena retorted, adding, as Quinn opened her mouth to argue, “and besides, I see your Guardian friend is here too. So before we start allocating blame, let’s keep in mind that we have all made mistakes.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Tristan is being restrained, not comforted!” Quinn snapped, stepping forward. Isaiah grabbed her arm as Balthazar waved Rowena inside, both trying to diffuse the situation.

“Let it go, Quinn,” Isaiah instructed, slowly increasing the pressure on her arm until she snapped out of her rage. “I know you’re worried,” he continued, dropping her arm, “we all are. But we can’t change what’s done. How they found us isn’t important. What matters is what we are going to do about it.”

Quinn nodded. He was right, as always. She felt a moment of guilt for losing her temper with Rowena, but was distracted by the sight of her sister beside them. Avery had not uttered a word since they had left the campsite, but now Quinn grabbed her shoulders.

“You’re in no state to fight,” she told her. “Go and join the others inside.” Avery didn’t argue.

“She’s not done yet,” Drake warned, watching her go.

“She’ll be fine,” Quinn insisted, and a second later, Braddon joined them.

“Balthazar, I need you to go back inside and watch Avery,” Quinn said. “Make sure she doesn’t harm Tristan.”

“I want to help,” Balthazar insisted.

“This is helping. If Tristan dies, his replacement will walk right into a trap. You want to help the Guardians? This is how you can do it.”

Grimly, Balthazar nodded. “What about Jonas?”

“I’ll fetch him.” Isaiah offered. A moment later he had crossed the lawn. “Jonas, I need you inside, now. Monique, give that beast what he wants. I need you in the air.” The Orochian was one of their best defensive weapons. Monique squeezed Jonas’s hand quickly, before vaulting onto the Orochian’s back, and, needing no further invitation, he shot skywards.

“Cara said that Charlotte was checking in every night, alone,” Quinn explained when Isaiah returned. “With any luck she won’t have reinforcements.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Drake cautioned. “Charlotte isn’t stupid. She’ll have people standing by.”

“It’s going to be a long night,” Isaiah murmured, drawing his sword, as together they stood and waited, staring out into the night.

For almost two hours nothing moved, save for the leaves of the trees as a slight breeze blew through the grounds. Shadows darted across the ground, taunting them, but nobody spoke a word. And then suddenly, one of the shadows separated from the others, growing longer and more defined as a figure stepped onto the grass ahead of them, and Quinn’s stomach contracted. More vampires followed Charlotte as she moved gracefully toward them. Quinn tried to count but soon lost track and gave up. There were nowhere near as many as had attacked the City, but it was a formidable number, nonetheless.

“Here.” Quinn handed Drake two of the stakes from her belt and then withdrew another two for herself. Meeting his eye, she gave him a ghost of a smile. “I’m glad you’re on our side,” she murmured.

“Remember that tomorrow when we’re finished here,” he teased, but his answering smile didn’t reach his eyes. He had a sickening fear that something terrible was about to happen.

The vampires were only a few yards away when they stopped, facing the Guardians. Charlotte’s evil smirk was ever present as she ran her eyes along their ranks, reserving a particularly nasty look for Drake and Quinn.

“I believe you found my mole,” she said eventually, breaking the silence. Nobody answered her and Charlotte lifted her head, inhaling deeply as the breeze blew her hair off her shoulders. “Hmmm,” she sighed, “something smells delicious.” Quinn’s hands clenched involuntarily at the implied threat in her words.

“You will not touch them,” she snarled, lifting her stakes.

“Such brave words,” Charlotte remarked, unperturbed. “You forget, Guardian, that I have met your sister. Any relative of someone so pathetic is hardly cause for concern.” Further along the line, Quinn sensed her father stiffen.

“Easy,” Daniel cautioned. “She’s just trying to bait you.” Charlotte waited a few seconds but Quinn didn’t react.

“So,” Charlotte quipped eventually, glancing around with idle curiosity. “Who wants to go first?”

“Anyone ever told you you talk too much?” Austin sneered, lifting his arm. Before anyone could stop him, he fired three shots, straight into Charlotte’s chest.

“How many times do I need to tell you, that doesn’t work!” Isaiah yelled, as Charlotte drew back her lips, exposing her fangs, and the horde of vampires stampeded toward them.

The Guardians surged forward as one, Daniel’s battle cry resounding through them as they dived into the fray. Quinn once again dropped all her defences, allowing her Hunter instinct to guide her. She heard the crack of another gunshot, and then nothing but the snarls and hisses of the vampires all around her.

She fought fiercely, her stakes flashing, as she took down one vampire after another. Through a gap in the crowd she spotted Isaiah and her heart sank as she watched a vampire sink his fangs into the Slayer’s neck. Before she could make a move toward him, another vampire had grabbed her by the throat, his long nails gouging deep into her flesh. She lifted her right arm, positioning her stake, but before she could drive it into his chest, his neck was severed, his head ripped clean off his body and Drake appeared before her.

“You’re welcome,” he grinned, his mouth stained crimson with blood, before he turned and jumped back into the battle. Quinn dodged another incoming attack, dropping low to the ground and emerged closer to Isaiah, staying clear of the range of his sword, which was raining blows down on any vampire who ventured near him. His neck was still bleeding, but it barely seemed to slow him down.

“You were bitten!” Quinn yelled, recalling the searing agony of the bite she had endured in the woods. To her surprise, Isaiah nodded, unconcerned, before pointing to a greying corpse at his feet.

“Slayer blood, remember?” he yelled and Quinn recoiled. She had all but forgotten that the blood of the Slayer was lethal to vampires. Their bites obviously didn’t affect him either, as they did the other Guardians, and now Quinn realised he was allowing them to bite him, a sure-fire suicide.

Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn noticed a slim form weaving through the throng, leading a small group toward the stables. Charlotte had managed to get through their defences. Swatting yet another vampire aside, Quinn gave chase.

Drake watched as Quinn pummelled her way through a group of vampires with single-minded purpose. Following the direction of her gaze, he saw Charlotte reach the stable door and he made a lightning decision. He reached the stable before Quinn, the scream of a woman from inside making his hair stand on end before he was knocked aside by a massive white form bursting through the door.

Quinn saw Freya, Sage strapped tightly to her chest, galloping away from the stables on one of the mares, and felt nothing but passionate relief that Kellan had sent his wife to safety. She knew that Freya would have wanted to fight, but her fear for her child’s safety had obviously overridden that desire. A second later, Anaise and Isadora followed suit, on another mare, and then, in a stampede, the last four unicorns burst through the open doors, carrying another eight members of the Fae to safety. Quinn didn’t hesitate. Drake had been distracted by a group of vampires, but he held them at bay as she slipped through the stable doors.

Inside the stables was carnage. The wolves were grappling fiercely with the vampires who had snuck inside, standing between them and Velkan and Kellan, who had stayed behind. Quinn couldn’t see any other members of the Fae, but as an arrow impaled the chest of a vampire only a few feet from where she stood, she glanced up to find Evangeline balanced on one of the rafters, another arrow already nocked in her bow.

Another bloodcurdling scream drew Quinn’s attention and she watched in horror as Charlotte snapped the neck of Anna’s friend, Jen. Anna’s broken body lay on the ground beside them. Of all the terrible things that Charlotte had done, this heinous act enraged Quinn most of all. She had made Anna a promise – a promise that she would be safe, that Charlotte would never hurt her again. A roar escaped Quinn, and Charlotte turned in her direction, smiling spitefully as she reached for the gypsy woman they had found in the woods. Her hand had just closed around Cara’s shirt, when Balthazar struck; lashing out at her with the wooden stake Isaiah had given him. It was a pitiful attack, the wood only just piercing Charlotte’s shoulder, but it hurt enough to force her to release Cara as Drake finally entered the building. Forcing her legs to move, Quinn bolted toward Charlotte.

Drake couldn’t allow Quinn to take on Charlotte on her own but, as he was about to follow, he heard a cry that cut him to the very core. It was Quinn’s voice. Turning, he spotted Avery on the other side of the stable, shielding her face as she stood, weaponless, between Jonas and two snarling vampires. He could hear Tristan, tied to a pole nearby, screaming at them to leave her alone, but Drake knew better. Charlotte would honour no deal made with a Guardian. Jonas was on the ground at Balthazar’s feet, unconscious but breathing, and Avery had no chance against two vampires. Casting a last glance over his shoulder at Quinn’s departing figure, Drake cursed, feeling as though a part of him was physically torn in two as he headed toward Avery instead.

Avery kicked out as the vampire on her left feinted toward her, catching his shin, but it was a feeble effort and he laughed in her face, toying with her. Lifting her arms, she fought the dizziness that overwhelmed her, preparing to attack again, when the two vampires were suddenly hauled backwards so fast that she couldn’t register their retreat. Only when they were a safe distance from the girl did Drake bring the stakes up and through their chests.

Chapter 41

Monique watched in despair at the chaos below. She couldn’t risk bringing the Orochian down there; he would just as likely incinerate her own people. She spotted a small figure on the outskirts of the fighting and recognised Piper’s blonde plait. The Guardian was surrounded by vampires and her movements were uncoordinated as though she was injured. Monique swore as a thuggish vampire swatted Piper aside, playing with her. A thought occurred to Monique and she wondered just how much of what she communicated to the Orochian could be interpreted. Praying that her plan would work, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, murmuring instructions. The Orochian’s black wings beat the air fiercely for a moment and then he swooped into a dive, Monique clinging to his scaly back as they streaked toward the ground.

Piper felt the blood running down her back, pooling at the base of her spine. She had been bitten on her back, the vampire’s fangs tearing through her shoulder blade, and her left arm hung limply at her side. She had managed to fight her way to the very edge of the mob, giving her some breathing room, but she didn’t know how much longer she could stay conscious.

“Where are you going, beautiful?” a syrupy voice crooned, and Piper felt her heart drop into her stomach. Turning, she faced the short, thick-set vampire who had followed her. The smell of her blood reached him and his nostrils flared as he licked his lips. Piper stumbled forward, trying to stake him, but he slapped her hand away, the blow spinning her on her feet. She had nothing left, no strength to fight him off or even to flee, not that she would. Glancing back toward the others, Piper knew that no help was coming. Everyone was surrounded; fighting their own battles. Determined, she lifted her right hand, stake held high, blinking away the spots that flickered at the edge of her vision. Her ears were filled with a high-pitched sound which she assumed was another symptom of the blood loss, but as the sound increased in volume, she shook her head, trying to find the source. Her adversary located it only an instant before she did, his head jerking back as he gazed upward, only to be encased in the jaws of the Orochian, who soared upward again, missing Piper by mere millimetres. Monique yelled in triumph, fist-pumping the air as the Orochian shook his head, crushing bone and severing flesh before he dumped the vampire’s body unceremoniously hundreds of feet back to the ground.

“Good boy!” Monique pulled at the dragon’s bat-ears, steering him in a circle before heading back to the crowd. It wasn’t long before the vampires realised that they were being picked off one by one, and they kept a vigilant eye on the sky as they fought, giving the Guardians a new advantage.

Inside the stables, where the Orochian couldn’t help them, Channon was tiring. She was bleeding badly from where the vampires had managed to snap at her, and bite marks trailed all up her left arm. The rest of the pack was in no better condition, but still they fought, creating a line of defence for the Fae who had remained behind. Rafe stood beside her fighting just as ferociously.

“Channon!” Kellan called from behind her as she despatched yet another vampire. “You have done enough! I cannot let you do this. Please – go!”

“No,” Channon shook her head and met Rafe’s gaze. He nodded – he wouldn’t leave them unprotected either. They would save Kellan and the others, or die trying.

“Channon, the others got out!” Kellan tried one more time to dissuade her. “The Fae will survive this battle. If you six die, the wolves won’t!”

Finally turning back to face him, Channon saw the resolve on his pale face, the reasoning behind his words. He was right – they were the last six remaining werewolves and, if the vampires overpowered them, their entire species would die out.

“Nice try,” she smiled, before turning her back on him once more. “But that baby isn’t going to grow up without a father.”

Quinn couldn’t believe just how fast Charlotte was. Over and over she stabbed at her, but no matter how fast she acted, Charlotte seemed to anticipate her every move and managed to avoid it. Quinn was tiring and Charlotte’s gay laughter rang in her ears. The next second, Charlotte landed a brutal blow to the left side of Quinn’s face and pain exploded in her head, stars bursting in her vision. Blinking, Quinn spun on the spot, but the second she located her target, Charlotte hit her again and Quinn was forced to her knees by the impact. Charlotte snaked out her hand, snatching Quinn’s stake.

As Charlotte loomed over her, Quinn felt the black hatred rise in her chest. Realising that the game was over, that Charlotte had won, was the bitterest pill of all and Quinn prayed that one of the others would succeed where she had failed, that they would make Charlotte pay for the atrocities she had committed against them all. Charlotte lifted the stake in both hands, her eyes never leaving Quinn’s face. She would have preferred to drag it out, but at least she would have the satisfaction of knowing that the girl had died by her hand. Quinn heard Avery’s scream of despair as, with all the force of a moving freight train, Charlotte threw her arms forward, the silver stake streaking through the air.

And then suddenly, Drake was there, throwing himself in front of Quinn without any regard for the consequences. Quinn heard the scream ripped from her mouth as time seemed to stand still. Daniel and Garrett, finally reaching them, tackled Charlotte, and she fought them off as wildly as she had done Quinn, but all Quinn was aware of was Drake, as he dropped to his knees, the silver hilt of her stake protruding from his chest.

“Nooooooooo!” Quinn’s screams echoed through the building, reverberating in her own ears as her mind refused to acknowledge what her eyes were seeing.

Drake tried to get to his feet, blood seeping ominously down his chest. His fingers scrabbled weakly at the stake, but it was buried so deeply that the hilt was covered in warm, slippery blood and he could not get a firm grip on it. Quinn crouched beside him, not caring a damn about everything else going on around them. Avery skidded to a halt beside them, her face ashen.

“Oh my God,” she murmured, taking in the damage. Only a moment ago, Drake had saved her life for the second time.

A hiss sounded behind them, and, without hesitation, Quinn twisted, snatching up the stake in Drake’s hand and forcing it brutally upwards, into the chest of the vampire who had snuck up behind them. She couldn’t see Charlotte and the crowd in the stables was dwindling as the fighting moved outside once more.

‘Help me!” Quinn begged, as she got her hands under Drake’s arms and tried to drag him away from the main room and into one of the empty stalls. Avery nodded, moving to his legs and lifting them slightly. Drake groaned as they shifted him, but as they dragged him across the floor, he bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out.

“Quinn,” Avery whispered as Quinn pulled the door closed behind them when they were finally inside the stall, “we have to get out of here. The others… we need to help.”

“Go, if you want to,” Quinn bit out, her emotions spinning wildly out of control. She bent over Drake’s chest, examining the stake, trying to evaluate the damage.

“It’s nicked my heart,” Drake grunted, his face paler than she’d ever seen it. “I can feel it.”

“You are not going to die, do you understand me,” Quinn ordered.

“I don’t think I can help it,” he whispered weakly, his eyes closing.

“Drake!” Quinn yelled, the blood rushing to her head and pounding in her ears.

“Quinn, we have to go…” Avery tried again, but Quinn ignored her.

“Drake, I’m going to pull it out.”

“Won’t do any good…” he muttered.

“On three,” Quinn continued, ripping a section of fabric from her shirt and getting a good grip on the hilt of the stake.

“I’d really rather you not…” Drake’s voice was fainter and it pained her to hear him joking at a time like this.

“Quinn!” A voice called frantically, and Quinn leapt to her feet, releasing the stake before realising it was Kellan. He slipped into the stall and closed the door behind him. Taking one look at Drake he assessed the situation, but Quinn was already kneeling back in the straw at Drake’s side.

“Ready?” she asked.

“No.”

“One, two…” Quinn pulled, the stake coming free and she threw it to the ground as though she couldn’t bear to touch it. After being so still, Drake roared in pain, his body spasming as he sat bolt upright before collapsing back against the wooden stable wall.

“It’s not going to make any difference,” Avery insisted, looking to Kellan for support, but her voice was kinder than before.

Kellan had long suspected that Quinn was in love with the daywalker, but watching her now, as she gazed down at him, all of his suspicions were confirmed. Kellan’s love for the Guardians would not allow him to watch her suffer.

“There is one thing that can save him,” he pointed out, and Avery clapped a hand to her mouth, unable to believe he would even mention it. It was sacrilege – tantamount to breaking the Taboo, but Quinn had already made her decision.

“Here,” she murmured, offering Drake her wrist, fighting against everything she had ever been taught.

“Quinn, no!” Avery gasped. “You can’t! You’re a Hunter now, it’ll form a bond, not to mention that you’ll be breaking the Taboo.” By giving Drake her blood, imbued with the blood of the ten and the charm of the Fae, Quinn would be imparting Fae magic onto another creature, just as Enah had done a millennium ago.

“I won’t let him die,” Quinn growled back. “He saved my life, Avery. He saved your life.”

Drake’s green eyes lifted to meet her gaze.

“Your sister is right, you don’t have to do this out of some perverse act of altruism,” he muttered, shoving her arm aside, and Quinn wondered just how much he knew of the true consequences of her actions. Taking a deep breath, knowing it was the only way to make him understand, to make him realise he had to let her help him, Quinn finally let her true feelings show, her tanzanite eyes softening as she met his gaze.

“Then how about I do it because I’m in love with you?”

That single omission changed everything between them in the space of a heartbeat. Drake’s eyes widened in shock and Avery dropped to her knees behind them, with a small cry of despair, before Kellan pulled her away, giving them their privacy. Quinn heard them go but her eyes never left Drake’s, the pain in her chest burgeoning and threatening to spill over as her revelation confirmed that she could no longer be a true Guardian. She had betrayed her people and the cause that she would have died for, for this man. She would break the Taboo, because, despite the pain that it caused her, there was something that would hurt far more; losing him.

“Please,” she murmured, offering him her wrist once more.

Drake needed no further prompting. Her proclamation seemed to give him strength and he grabbed her arm fiercely, yanking her forward onto his lap. His fangs pierced her soft flesh and Quinn bit back a muted cry, falling somewhere between agony and ecstasy.

Quinn’s blood consumed Drake, and with it, came the healing power that it possessed. The pain in his chest subsided with each passing second and his head reeled with the sweetness he had dreamed about. Quinn’s head was thrown back, her white neck exposed, and he gripped her arm more tightly in an effort to control the urge to take advantage of her vulnerability. He groaned, a rumbling sound emanating from deep within his chest, and shifted so that her weight pressed more heavily down on him. She didn’t resist – in this moment she was hiding nothing from him. In this moment all of her walls had been stripped away.

“Enough!” Avery’s voice broke the spell and she wrestled Quinn’s arm from Drake’s grasp. Quinn hadn’t even heard her sister return. She had forgotten about everything and everyone, forgotten that a battle still waged outside of the stillness of these four walls. Drake’s chest heaved with emotion and Quinn looked stunned, getting dazedly to her feet with Avery’s assistance.

“What have you done?” Avery whimpered, as the yells echoing around the stables became louder and more discernible. “What have you done?”

Avery’s desperation pulled Quinn together. Her wrist was on fire, but not the same wrist Drake had just fed from. Her branded arm, where the black Hunter tattoo marked the pale skin, seared with the heat of a thousand suns. Ignoring the pain, she pulled down her sleeve and moved away from Drake as he got to his feet. Without another word, they fled out into the chaos of the night.

Chapter 42

Isaiah swung his sword again and again as the vampires converged around him. Most of the Guardians were back, fighting alongside him, and with renewed purpose, they fought tooth and nail against those who would harm the wards. None of the vampires had followed the herd or the Fae who had escaped with them, but there were still innocent lives to be protected here.

It seemed that the Guardians were gaining ground – the vampire numbers were dwindling and so far not a single Guardian had fallen - although they were not without injury. The Orochian was still picking off vampires, focusing on the area around Piper, who was seriously injured and barely able to defend herself. Isaiah noticed that the gypsies had congregated around the young Guardian, doing their utmost to fend off her attackers. They had gotten their hands on stakes, each and every one, including a concussed Jonas. No doubt his presence added to Monique’s focus of attack. She wouldn’t let the vampires hurt him, not if she could help it.

Monique, however, wasn’t omnipotent, and eventually, it was inevitable that she would fail. The Orochian had just streaked back up into the air when a wiry female vampire seized the opportunity, darting forward and snatching at Cara, who she recognised from her confinement in the City. Zebulon, however, shoved his wife aside, and, before any of the others could react, the vampire had snapped his neck. Cara screamed so loudly that the air around them seemed to absorb and magnify the sound, and in the instant that Zebulon’s body dropped lifelessly to the ground, Balthazar lunged forward and drove the stake with ruthless force through the vampire’s chest. He only just missed her heart, but Rowena didn’t. Her stake scraped against his as she too attacked and the vampire’s life was cut short as abruptly as Zebulon’s had been. Together, the newly married couple jerked their stakes free and steadied themselves, unable to give in to their grief while still under attack. Cara had crumpled to the ground, cradling Zebulon’s body, as the others instinctively formed a protective circle around her.

“Enough!” The word was hurled into the night, so loudly that it drew everyone’s attention. Abruptly, the fighting ceased, all eyes turning to face Charlotte who stood on the front lawn. Her brown eyes were maniacal in her pretty face, her body heaving with emotion. Gripped tightly against her chest, a stake pressed up against her heart, was Lenora.

Nobody moved. Charlotte’s threat was clear. She had taken Lenora because she knew of Drake’s affection for her, but nothing prepared Charlotte for what followed.

“No!” the cry came, not from Drake, but from the Slayer, and Charlotte’s eyes widened in shock and triumph. Moving forward, Isaiah’s eyes never left Lenora’s face as the crowd parted to let him through. “Let her go,” Isaiah called across the space between them.

“Isaiah, no!” Daniel yelled, sensing what he was about to do.

“Your sword, Slayer,” Charlotte hissed, pressing the stake into Lenora’s chest so that she gasped in pain.

“Don’t do it,” Lenora pleaded with Isaiah, even as tears of pain streamed from her eyes. Isaiah ignored her. Without hesitation, he tossed the sword onto the ground at Charlotte’s feet and the Guardians gave a collective gasp of horror. Charlotte weighed her options. She could not win this battle – she had lost too many of her people and it was time to flee - but her sadistic nature called for blood. Expertly, she pulled back her arm so that the stake was pressed against Lenora’s back.

“Pick it up,” she instructed. Gingerly, Lenora bent over and retrieved the sword, holding it limply at her side. Drake watched helplessly. He knew the look on Charlotte’s face. She would kill Lenora, of that there was no doubt; to punish Isaiah, to punish him.

“You want her?” Charlotte taunted Isaiah. “Come and get her!”

Drake stepped forward but Isaiah moved too quickly for anyone to stop him. Quinn lost sight of him for only a second through the crowd, but she heard Lenora’s howl of anguish and, as the crowd parted again, she watched in abject horror as Isaiah slumped to the ground before her, run through with his own sword.

Pulling it free with a roar of agony, Lenora tossed it aside and collapsed on top of him. The Guardians darted forward as one, but it was too late. Charlotte was gone, and the Slayer lay dying on the soft grass.

Chapter 43

Charlotte had abandoned the vampires who remained, and, in the meleé that followed, the Guardians tore through them, their despair fuelling their bloodlust. Channon, unable to control herself any longer, shifted fully and the other wolves followed suit. They fought with renewed vigour, their eyes glowing yellow, their desolate howls filling the air. It wasn’t long before not a single vampire remained and the air was thick with ash.

Quinn, however, sat on the ground at Isaiah’s side, tears streaming down her face. Lenora’s pain echoed in all of them as, one by one, the Guardians, werewolves, Fae, gypsies and everyone else who had fought so valiantly, knelt around him.

Isaiah lifted his hand, touching Lenora’s cheek, and she clutched it desperately, her eyes closing as her tears splashed down onto his face. Her hair blew gently off her face as the Orochian landed on the lawn and Monique scrambled off his back hurtling toward them. When she caught sight of Isaiah, she slumped to the ground in disbelief, and Jonas barely caught her as she fell. Daniel gazed down at his oldest friend, his eyes dry. The pain was almost too much and no tears would come. Isaiah gave a gurgling cough but nobody tried to help. There was nothing anyone could do.

“I love you,” Isaiah murmured, still gazing at Lenora, and she gave a wracking sob.

“I love you too,” she gasped, “so very much.” He let his gaze linger on her face for a few more moments and then his eyes shifted to Quinn who sat on his other side.

“Quinn,” he murmured, “there is something you need to know.” Another rasping gurgle sounded in his chest and Quinn shook her head.

“Don’t try to talk,” she insisted. The words were barely audible.

Finding Daniel’s face, Isaiah nodded as a silent message passed between them - the last remaining original Guardians.

“She needs to know,” he murmured insistently. Against his better judgement, Daniel nodded. “You have to tell her,” Isaiah finished quietly, and then his eyes closed, and with one last shuddering breath, he was still.

Nobody moved. Most of the women were crying, as were a few members of the Fae. Evangeline stepped forward, placing a hand over Isaiah’s eyes and closing them, uttering words in a language that had long been forgotten. The wolves had shifted back and they stood dazed, staring down at Isaiah. The dull sound of hooves on soft grass reached them and Kellan rushed forward to meet the Fae who were returning now that the danger had passed.

Dazedly, Quinn pushed off the grass, getting to her feet and lurching away from the gruesome sight. She couldn’t comprehend his words, nor did she care what they meant. She could think no further than the fact that her mentor, her friend, the bravest of them all, was gone. She would never again hear his low, soothing voice; never again feel the warmth of his hand on her shoulder as he encouraged her to be better, to embrace her purpose. As she stumbled to her knees, she noticed the gleaming silver hilt of Isaiah’s sword on the grass. The blade shone crimson with his blood, the blood of the most compassionate man she had ever known.

Without thinking, she picked it up, her heart breaking. Drake watched, wishing he could take away her pain, knowing there was nothing he could do to ease her shattered soul. Cursing Charlotte, cursing every vampire who had ever pledged their allegiance to the Quest, he vowed that he would not rest until the bloodshed stopped.

And that was when Quinn screamed; a blood-curdling, spine-chilling sound that rent the air and froze the blood in his veins. Her body convulsed, her back arching so violently that he thought her spine would snap. He moved faster than anyone else could. As he reached her, she collapsed, her body limp in his arms, her face so pale he thought for one horrifying, heart-stopping moment that she had died. Her dark lashes swept her cheeks and Drake prayed like he had never prayed before that she would open her eyes, those exquisite violet-blue eyes that haunted his dreams. It couldn’t be over. Not now, not when she had finally let him in. Not when only minutes ago she had confessed she loved him.

At the same moment that Quinn’s eyes had closed, Braddon gave a guttural bellow, dropping to his knees, and then reeling forward, face first. Torn, the Guardians rushed forward, trying to help, but Daniel beat them to it. He examined Braddon for only a moment before hastening over to Quinn. One quick look told him all he needed to know.

“Get away from her!” Daniel yelled, and Drake’s temper spiked, believing that the Guardian was blaming him for what had happened. And then he realised what it was that Daniel was trying to show him, and a numbness came over him as his body tried to protect him from the horrifying truth. Quinn’s tattoo was no longer black. It was red as blood. “You need to get away from her,” Daniel continued, insistently. “If she wakes she could hurt you.”

“No,” Drake shook his head, his eyes fixed on the vivid red brand. “She can’t be... she wouldn’t...”

“She is and she would,” Daniel interrupted, but his voice was kinder, more gentle. “I’m sorry, Drake, but you need to get away from her. Go round the back of the house. Take Lenora, too,” he added, and Drake glanced over to where his friend was still sobbing over Isaiah’s lifeless form.

“I need to know that she’s okay,” Drake whispered.

“You don’t have to go far,” Daniel murmured.

“I need to...”

“We will keep you updated,” Daniel promised. “She’s going to be fine. Listen.” Drake did as he was told and closed his eyes, hearing the steady beating of Quinn’s heart. “She’ll be okay,” Daniel continued, his voice filling the space between heartbeats.

Drake didn’t open his eyes as he got to his feet. Only when he had turned away did he open them, putting one foot in front of the other until he reached Lenora. Crouching beside her, he gently pulled her to her feet. Lenora didn’t protest. She buried her face in Drake’s chest, her shoulders heaving as she sobbed. Drake didn’t say a word. Instead, he lifted her into his arms and carried her away from the others, away from Isaiah’s body, away from the woman he loved.

When Drake was gone, Daniel sat with his head in his hands, contemplating what it all meant. Isaiah was right; he needed to tell Quinn the truth. Whether she was the one mentioned in the prophecy was yet to be determined, but she deserved the truth. They all did. Tonight had changed everything. Quinn had replaced Isaiah as the Slayer, and her father had taken her place as a Hunter. A new Guardian would be coming, the white tattoo branded on his or her arm leading the newly-summoned Guardian to what had, until recently been Braddon’s crystal. Dawn was coming and, for the moment, at least, they were safe, but the vampires would return. Charlotte had not anticipated this battle and yet she had still rallied a small army against them. She would return with a force they could not stand against. Never before had there been such rapid succession; so many untrained Guardians in their ranks. Now, when they needed their strength the most, they were at their most vulnerable, and their Slayer was a girl who might be the only one who could save them or who might condemn them all. Daniel sat beside Quinn and waited for her to wake.

Chapter 44

When Quinn opened her eyes it was still dark. She could hear voices, fading in and out.

“Why did she pass out?” Avery was asking.

“I have no idea,” Daniel replied. “It shouldn’t happen that way. Eldon’s magic doesn’t allow for the Slayer to be vulnerable upon turning.”

Deep in the recesses of Quinn’s mind, she answered the question: the blood loss. She had given Drake a fair amount of her blood, and she had been weakened as a result. She would probably have passed out anyway, even without the added stress of the scorching tattoo. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes.

Avery and Daniel loomed over her, and Quinn blinked, slowly focusing on their concerned faces. The dew-drenched grass had seeped through her clothes, and she shivered slightly.

“What...what happened?” she asked, but their faces gave away nothing. And then she remembered the white hot pain, and she lifted her wrist, her eyes finding her tattoo.

“We’ve moved Lenora and the others to the back of the house,” Daniel spoke plainly, while her father watched her intently, trying to gauge her reaction. Quinn could sense them, even from here, and her first thought was to find them, to slay them all, but she forced herself to stay still, breathing slowly in and out through her mouth.

“Where is Drake?”

“He’s with them,” Avery reassured her, and in that moment, everything that had happened between them fell away. Avery squeezed Quinn’s hand, her eyes frantic with worry. “He didn’t want to leave you, but we thought it was for the best until you could get a handle on your emotions.”

Quinn tried to assess what she was feeling. She was angry, furious at what Charlotte had done, and she wanted vengeance, but strangely, her strongest emotion was grief.

“Isaiah,” she choked, the memory of what had happened coming back to her. Neither Daniel nor her sister responded, but she saw her pain reflected in their eyes. Swallowing down the emotion that rose in her chest at the thought of the fallen Guardian, Quinn reached out again, trying to get a sense of how she would react to the vampires. It had taken Isaiah years of solitude to master his Slayer instincts. She could feel them, simmering below the surface, but her primary concern was for her friends’ safety. She needed to know that they were all right.

“I won’t hurt them,” she spoke without hesitation, and, as she said the words she knew they were true. She wouldn’t hurt her friends, no matter how badly her body craved it. Her mind was strong enough. Idly she wondered if it was because she had come to care for them so deeply, because they had become a part of her family, but if it was as simple as that Isaiah would never have tried to harm Lenora all those years ago.

“You can’t know that,” Daniel pointed out, but Quinn silenced him with a stern look.

“I won’t hurt them,” she insisted, relieved that she was completely in control of herself.

“But... how?” Avery asked, looking to Daniel for answers. “The Slayer has no control over their instincts.”

“Isaiah did,” Quinn remarked pointedly. “And so do I.” She got to her feet, trying to get a handle on her newfound ability. She knew exactly how many vampires were behind the house, and, if she concentrated, she could sense their movements. It was surreal and frightening.

“I wish there was more time for you to adjust,” Daniel said, sounding as though he meant it. Quinn detected a new respect in his voice, a reverence that she had only ever heard when he addressed Isaiah. Recalling her mentor, Quinn swivelled, searching the lawn for his body, but it was gone.

“Lenora had him moved,” Avery murmured, sensing her distress. “She wants him buried before we leave this place.”

“We should leave soon,” Daniel reminded. “Dawn is only an hour or two away, but Charlotte will return as soon as night falls, and this time, she will make sure she brings an army.”

“No,” Quinn murmured, so softly that they had to strain to hear her. “No,” she repeated, louder this time. “I won’t run anymore. That bitch murdered Isaiah. She destroyed Summerfeld.” Every word rang with fury as Quinn felt the full weight of her need for vengeance settle on her shoulders. “We’ll get the wards to safety, but then I’m going after her. I’m going to get back those crystals and we are going to open the Rose Gate.”

“Quinn, it’s suicide,” Daniel replied.

“No, it’s not,” she countered. “It’s the best chance we’ve got. She won’t expect it, which gives us an advantage, and besides, how long do you think we can flee from her – from all of them? We can’t hide forever. Without the City, we are lost. We need the Fae magic. We need Wintyr.”

“How will we find the crystals?” Daniel tried again to dissuade her. “They could be anywhere. Who knows where Charlotte is keeping them.”

“One person knows,” Quinn smiled menacingly. “Tristan.”

Inside, the Guardians were preparing for their departure, packing up all their belongings. The mood was sombre, but, as Quinn entered the house, an awe-struck hush descended upon them. Ignoring them, Quinn moved down the hall toward the library which Isaiah had been using as a training room before the wedding. The door was open and she walked directly to the shelf where Lenora kept her classics, running her hand along the dusty spines of the books, feeling a tingling in her fingertips. She smiled as she reached a first edition of Bram Stoker’s Dracula and saw that the spine didn’t line up with the others. She pulled the dusty tome free from the shelf, reaching behind it and withdrawing Isaiah’s crystal which now belonged to her. It was a sapphire, as simple and beautiful as the man in whose possession it had remained for a millennium.

Returning the book to its place, Quinn sat heavily in the armchair nearest the bookshelf, her hand clutched tightly around the crystal. No more tears would come, despite the fact that her whole world had been shattered.

“Quinn?” Daniel intruded on her private musings and Quinn glanced up to find him standing before her, a look of desolation on his face. Daniel had known Isaiah a lot longer than she had. “Is that...?” he trailed off, choked with emotion. Quinn nodded, opening her hand to reveal the crystal.

“A new Guardian will come for mine – or for whoever replaces me as a Hunter. Has anyone else been branded yet?” So many Guardians had fallen that she was losing track of which crystal belonged to who. The only thing that she was sure of was that this sapphire was now hers and hers alone. She longed for the days when her amber crystal had reflected the simple Guardian life she had led. It took a while before she realised that Daniel hadn’t answered her. “Daniel?”

“Braddon,” he relented. “Your father replaced you.”

Quinn sucked in astonished breath. “Where is he?”

“He’s upstairs. I think he found the crystal you hid up there.”

“Good. Someone will come for his. A new Guardian.”

“Perhaps we should wait until they do.”

“No, no more waiting. They will find us wherever we are. Braddon can hang on to both in the meantime.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure.”

“Quinn!?” Braddon’s voice sounded in the hall and she heard his frantic footsteps approaching.

“In here,” she called back.

“Thank God, you’re okay,” he muttered the second he clapped eyes on her. In an uncharacteristically paternal gesture, he swept her up into a bone-crushing hug and Daniel averted his eyes, embarrassed. Braddon was followed by Avery, Piper, and then the rest of the Guardians.

“I’m fine,” Quinn murmured, extricating herself from his clutches. Braddon glanced discreetly at her wrist.

“How do you feel?

“I feel fine,” she insisted. The others continued to watch her carefully, not quite sure how to deal with her new status. Quinn couldn’t blame them. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it herself. “I need to clean up,” she confessed. Isaiah’s blood, and the blood of all the vampires she had killed tonight stained her hands and her body was filthy. Daniel faced the sea of faces.

“Everybody, stop what you’re doing. Take an hour to clean up, change your clothes, do what you need to do. I want everyone in the library at first light.”

Grateful for the reprieve, Quinn bolted up the stairs, shutting herself in her bedroom, finally alone with her thoughts.

Chapter 45

Mindlessly, Quinn stripped off her black pants, dropping them on the pale carpet. Crossing to the hand basin, she scrubbed her hands raw, watching as the water ran red with blood. She felt tainted and emotionally drained, but she also had a renewed sense of purpose. She knew, somehow, that this was meant to be. Isaiah’s death, her becoming the Slayer, it was all part of a greater plan. She would not fail the wards.

Thinking back to before she had picked up the sword, Quinn shivered as she remembered the moment in the stable when she had admitted her feelings for Drake. She had done the unthinkable when she had given him her blood. She knew the consequences, but still she prayed that the bond was a myth, another unfulfilled prophecy defined by the Sacred Book. Gazing at herself in the mirror of her dresser, she was surprised to see that she didn’t look any different. Her dark hair had grown, falling just below her shoulders, and her strange tanzanite eyes looked luminous in the fluorescent lightning, but she looked like the same person she had been yesterday, before she had broken the Taboo. There was no sign marking her as a traitor, but a traitor she was. She was paler than usual, which was understandable, given the events of this evening and the fact that Drake had drained her of a fair amount of blood.

Glancing down, she touched the two puncture wounds on her left wrist. They were almost healed, but for now, they were a painful reminder of Drake’s warm mouth on her skin, of his fangs piercing her flesh in excruciating ecstasy. Heaving a sigh, Quinn closed her eyes, tracing the small scars and allowing herself just a moment to recall how it felt to be so close to him, her body cradled into his, his breath on her skin. ‘How about I do it because I’m in love with you?’ her words echoed in her own head, so honest, so pure... and making absolutely no difference whatsoever. She was the Slayer and he was a vampire. There could be nothing between them. Ever.

“You’re wrong.” The words were softly spoken and Quinn opened her eyes, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. He was standing only a few feet behind her, in the same bloodstained clothes he was wearing earlier. A dark stain marked the place where Charlotte had run the stake through his chest, but through the hole in his shirt she could see the smooth skin beneath. Her blood had healed him. The blood of a Hunter. There were dark shadows under his green eyes, which were softer than she had ever seen them. He gazed at her in a way that made her blood sing and her heart beat faster in her chest.

Slowly, she turned to face him, tears pricking at her eyes as she thought the words she wasn’t yet ready to say. She had to send him away, there was no other way. She had made a terrible mistake. Drake saw the resolution in her eyes and he drew himself up to his full height. An unmistakeable anger flashed across his face, his mouth drawn into a furious line.

“No,” he growled, taking two huge steps toward her. Before she could react, he seized hold of her shoulders, yanking her toward him and his mouth crashed down on hers. She could only coil her arms around his neck and give in to his kiss, her heart thundering in her ears. It was as if time had stood still, and her body reacted with a passion that both terrified and exhilarated her. She wanted him and he wanted her. Dropping her hands, she placed them on his chest and then shoved him backward. Even the brief loss of contact was agony, and she charged at him, leaping up onto his waist, her legs curled around him. Drake held her weight easily, his strong arms locked below her. As she slipped her tongue into his mouth she felt the tips of his fangs, and the rigid tension in his body as he fought to contain his lust. Quinn ran her tongue over the sharp, deadly points and Drake groaned. Withdrawing his arms, letting her hold herself up, he grabbed the back of her shirt with both hands and ripped. The fabric cleaved away, falling in a crumpled heap on the carpet at their feet, leaving Quinn naked, save for her underwear, in his embrace.

Drake’s eyes feasted on her body, taking in every curve of her skin, every line of her face. Unable to contain himself any longer, his fangs emerged fully. Quinn smiled, the sight neither scaring her, nor diminishing her attraction. Drake’s eyes darkened and he nuzzled her neck, breathing in the scent of her. His arms dropped to her waist, holding her still and at the same time assuring her that she could stop him any time she wanted. Quinn sagged against his chest, all thoughts of stopping this madness obliterated. She could sense how much he wanted her. Drake wanted to stay here, in this room, away from the Guardians, forever. He wanted to take her somewhere where no one would ever find them and...

“No!” Quinn gasped, pulling away from him and clutching her head. At the same time, Drake dropped to his knees, his hold on her slipping. Quinn tumbled to the floor. She peered through the fog of pain to see that he, too, was holding his own head, his face contorted in agony.

So many thoughts were running through Quinn’s mind that she couldn’t make out which were his and which were her own. As their eyes met, the pain peaked as a myriad of emotion surged through them. One in particular stood out, probably because they were both thinking it at exactly the same time. The bond is true.

Drake crawled toward her, his hands reaching desperately for her, but Quinn shook her head and cringed away from him.

“You have to go,” she hissed, through gritted teeth.

“No,” he shook his head, a spasm of pain contorting his body. “We can...”

“We can’t!” she cried, retreating until her back hit the opposite wall. She clawed at her head, her fingers tangling in her hair. She thought she would die of the pain. “Please, Drake! Go!” Her worst fears had been confirmed. The bond was true – their minds linked through the blood she had willingly given him. She could hear his thoughts, and he could hear hers.

Finally, the agony became too much and Drake changed course, moving away from her, every moment more painful then the next. And Quinn felt it all, the coupling of both her own pain as well as his, far too powerful for one mind to endure. When he reached the window, he dragged himself up onto the sill, and then heaved his body over, dropping to the ground below. Quinn could not move, not even to see if he was all right. And then suddenly, the pain stopped, leaving only a blinding headache in its wake. She raced to the open window, sticking her head out and peering through the gloom to the lawn below. There was no sight of him. Drake was gone.

End of Book 3...

Book 4: The Balance of the Blood

Chapter 1

Quinn Harden stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sunlight streamed through the window behind her casting a rainbow of colour over the muted gold-papered walls and setting the glass sparkling. Everything about this house was understated and elegant... and no doubt expensive, but the beauty of the furnishings was lost on Quinn. Without taking her eyes off her reflection she reached behind her and yanked down the blind, blocking out the warming sunlight. She focused on trying to steady her breathing, trying to bring her frantic heartbeat under control. Her violet-blue eyes gazed back at her, her cheeks flushed. Only a few moments ago she had been in agony, the bond between her and the vampire, Drake, too painful to endure even being in the same room as him. Just moments before that she had been in ecstasy, his arms around her waist, his body pressed hard against hers. The memory of that moment was what had first raised the blood to her cheeks and set her heart pounding.

Quinn had never felt such a physical attraction to a man before, but she had given Drake her blood to save him, her Hunter’s blood. And in doing so, she had created a blood bond between them – a mind-link that she didn’t yet understand, but which prevented them from being together because it caused them both considerable pain. It was an unprecedented situation. While a Guardian’s blood was intoxicating to a vampire, and the Slayer’s blood would kill them, no vampire who had fed off a Hunter had ever been allowed to live, so the very existence of the bond had never been proven. Until now. The pain of the bond was excruciating, worse than Quinn could ever have imagined. The myth had been proved true.

What were the chances? Quinn thought, rubbing her temples. She had been a Hunter for only a few days and yet, in that short space of time, she had formed a bond. Now, she was no longer a Hunter but the bond remained. Her wrist still tingled, a reminder of the new burden she now carried. In the wake of Isaiah’s death she had taken his place as the Slayer, a vampire hunter so powerful that her very blood could kill them. The red tattoo emblazoned across her wrist validated her Slayer status, but it was not her wrist that Quinn focused on now. Instead, she kept her eyes on the reflection in the mirror, on the tanzanite eyes she had inherited from her father.

Quinn’s mother had died when she was only five years old, but a memory surfaced as she gazed at her reflection. A memory of a mother she had lost far too young.

“What is it, Quinn?” her mother asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head, forcing a smile. Mom was sick, she had been sick for a while, and Quinn didn’t want her to worry.

“Is it Avery? Did you two have a fight?”

“No. I’m fine, mama.”

At that her mother had lifted Quinn onto her lap, brushing back her dark hair. “I know you’re sad, baby.”

The words surprised Quinn. Her five-year old-self believed she hid her feelings well.

“How do you know?”

Her mother smiled then; a special, secret smile she reserved just for Quinn. “Because your eyes tell me,” she whispered, as though it was their little secret.

Only now did Quinn understand what her mother had meant - what she had always been able to see. Quinn had wiped away her tears and changed her bloodied clothing but she couldn’t disguise the haunted look in her eyes. The pain that shimmered there could not be hidden.

The battle that had waged through the night had taken so much from her. She had failed Anna and her friends – three women she had rescued from Charlotte’s dungeon prison. Quinn had promised them that they would be safe and yet Charlotte had found them. She had murdered them in cold blood while Quinn watched. Worse, Quinn had failed to kill Charlotte. The vampire had overpowered her and Drake had had to save her life, sacrificing his own in the process. Unable to bear the thought of losing him, Quinn had broken the Taboo – the most sacred law of the Fae - and had given him her blood. In doing so, she had gone against everything she believed in. Then, Charlotte had killed Isaiah – Quinn’s friend and mentor. Isaiah had been the Slayer for five hundred years. Upon his death, unbelievably, Quinn had taken his place.

But nothing that Charlotte had done compared to the torture of losing Drake. The bond had destroyed any chance they might have had of being together. It was simply too painful for both of them. Deep down, Quinn knew that the tortured look in her eyes was mostly due to the fact that, after weeks of denying it, she had finally allowed herself to admit that she was in love with him, only to have him ripped away from her by magic that was older than the Guardianship itself.

Shaking her head, she tried to put whatever hope she had had of a future with Drake behind her. She couldn’t think about him now - not when there was so much to be done. Lenora’s mansion had provided them with a safe haven after fleeing the City of Summerfeld, but last night the vampires had found them. They would have to leave. Quinn couldn’t wallow in self-pity, the wards needed her.

It was almost a relief when a gentle knock sounded on the door to her bedroom.

“Quinn, they’re all heading down to the library,” her father’s voice sounded oddly disconnected through the solid wooden door.

“I’ll be right there,” Quinn called. Savagely, she punched the mirror, shattering the glass, before she yanked open the faucet and splashed icy water on her face.

Chapter 2

Channon, the first female werewolf Alpha in history, watched as her mate, Rafe, loped across the lawn toward her. Channon was relieved he was back. He had gone up to the main house half an hour ago to check on the others while she had spent the better part of the last hour listening to the banter of the four young wolves who, along with her and Rafe, constituted the last of the Lunar pack. Of all the werewolves to have survived the battle of Summerfeld, Channon wondered what crimes she had committed to be left with the four youngsters who were currently playing a game of tag on the lawn as if they hadn’t spent the night in combat, killing and maiming, fighting for their lives. Even Dominic, who was still mourning the loss of Rayna, seemed to be in good spirits. Still, Channon thought, it could be worse. The six of them were the last surviving werewolves known to exist, and, by the grace of Eldon, none were related. They could repopulate. The werewolf line had a chance of surviving this tragedy.

“Daniel has asked us all to assemble in the library,” Rafe murmured when he got within earshot. Compared to Dominic and Sawyer, the young males gambolling behind her, Rafe’s calm maturity soothed Channon’s fears. Rafe was constant, assured and, without him, Channon didn’t know what she would have done. He had been the Alpha for years before Caleb, a werewolf planted inside the City by the vampire, Charlotte, had challenged him. Caleb had been a cruel, merciless brute, who had killed Rafe’s mother in retaliation when Channon had refused his advances. Caleb had lived his entire life in man’s realm and had been taken in by Charlotte, who had turned him against his own kind before enabling him to infiltrate the City. Under Caleb’s rule the pack had become aggressive and volatile. Rafe had taken refuge for a short time in man’s realm, believing that, if he was out of the picture, Caleb would be satisfied. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Caleb had murdered Vivienne and Rafe had returned to the City, to face him. In an unlikely turn of events, Quinn had killed Caleb and Channon had fought for the role of Alpha. Even more surprisingly, she had won. She wondered if she still would have done it had she known what was coming.

“Did Daniel say what the plan is?” she asked, but Rafe shook his head.

“I don’t actually think he has one.”

“We can’t stay here.”

“The Guardians know that. They’ll find somewhere safe for us to go.”

“We thought we’d be safe here,” Channon reminded him. She felt the burden of being Alpha weighing heavily on her chest. Since she had become their leader, the pack had almost been destroyed. By some miracle they had survived last night’s battle, but this was just the beginning. Now that they were no longer protected by Summerfeld’s enchantments, it was only a matter of time before the vampires found them again and Channon doubted they would be so lucky a second time. Would she go down in history as the Alpha who had led her people into extinction?

The sound of laughter reached her, contrasting starkly with her solemn mood, and Channon’s gaze shifted to Perry, a small, lithe she-wolf, who was being chased by Sawyer - an arrogant, cocky youth whose tongue was as sharp as his wit.

“You can act coy all you want,” Sawyer teased, picking Perry up as though she weighed nothing, “but face it, Per – the pickings are slim. There are only two of you,” he pointed at Perry and Reagan, the two she-wolves, “and two of us,” Sawyer added, indicating Dominic and himself. “We’re it. The fate of our species depends on you and me, baby!”

Perry shrieked with laughter as he set her back on her feet. “Sawyer, it wouldn’t matter if you were the last werewolf on the planet. I’d still be single!” she taunted.

“I second that,” Reagan agreed, but she was also laughing.

“Eldon give me strength,” Channon muttered irritably. She was so focused on the four youths that she completely missed the look of amusement on Rafe’s face. As Sawyer tackled Perry to the ground in retaliation for her teasing, Channon rolled her eyes.

“He’s not entirely right,” Rafe murmured, his eyes gleaming. “There’s also us.” The thought of having children with Rafe seemed impossible, given that they were on the run for their lives.

“They’re unfocused,” she muttered, deliberately avoiding his comment. “Why can’t they take anything seriously?”

“They’re just letting off steam,” Rafe relented. “They’ve been through a lot. This is just their way.”

His words reminded her that he had been leading their people for a long time. This was why he had been so good at it. Rafe had infinite patience and he took the time to get to know every member of the pack. He had always ruled firmly, but fairly, and had been much loved. As he watched, a small smile on his face, it was easy to forget that he had so recently lost his sister – the last of his family. Rayna, like most of the pack, had been killed by vampires in the battle of Summerfeld.

“Speaking of what we’ve been through...” Channon said, “you haven’t mentioned Rayna’s name since...”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Rafe cut her off.

“Of course you don’t. But she was your sister and I know you’re hurting.”

“We’re all hurting. We can’t change what’s happened and now isn’t the time to dwell on it.”

“Okay,” Channon sighed, “but when you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”

"I know you are.” He put his arms around her and held her for a moment. Over his shoulder, Channon saw Dominic avert his gaze. The young wolf had been in a relationship with Rafe’s sister and his pain was just as real.

Channon gazed up the trees surrounding the lawn, the sunlight filtering through the leaves and sending dappled shadows skittering along the ground. It was so peaceful here she wished they didn’t have to leave.

“We should head up.” Rafe released her and she instantly felt the weight settle back on her shoulders.

“Come on,” Channon called over to the younger werewolves, “the others are expecting us.”

“You missed your chance!” she heard Sawyer tease as they headed back toward the main house. Perry’s reply was not something that bore repeating.

Chapter 3

By the time everyone had gathered in the cavernous library downstairs, Quinn had composed herself. Her knuckles had healed, showing no sign of her loss of control. Quinn busied herself by scanning the room. The gypsies stood clustered together in the far corner, leaning against the well-stocked shelves. There was a blood smear spread across a section of paperbacks, which Quinn hoped didn’t include any first editions. Looking for the source, she noticed that Cara’s blonde hair was matted with blood. Rowena, Balthazar’s wife, had her arm around Cara’s heaving shoulders and Cosima sat quietly on her other side. Balthazar’s grim expression and the absence of Cara’s husband confirmed Quinn’s suspicions. Zebulon had obviously been another casualty of the battle last night. Noticing Jonas wasn’t with his father, Quinn quickly searched the room and spotted him sitting beside Monique, his dark head resting on hers. Quinn was particularly fond of Jonas and she whole-heartedly approved of the relationship. Jonas still wore a cast on his left arm, but it was bloodied and dented. Jonas had had both his arms broken in the battle of Summerfeld, but he had removed one cast to walk Rowena down the aisle. The gypsy boy had shown remarkable courage considering the pain he was in.

The wolves were also isolated - the six of them standing near the doors, involved in what looked to be a heated conversation. Channon was dressing down a young wolf with dark hair that stuck up at all angles, Sawyer, his name was. He was staring at the ground at his feet, being thoroughly chastised, but Quinn noticed that Rafe was trying to hide a smile. These six were the only werewolves left of the Lunar Pack and Quinn felt giddy with relief that all six had survived. The Fae sat in and amongst the Guardians. She spotted Kellan and Freya, deep in conversation with Evangeline, the ancient, eccentric Fae woman who Quinn recalled had given the vampires hell last night. Freya held baby Sage tightly against her chest. As though sensing Quinn’s attention, Evangeline’s milky eyes lifted to find hers and she dipped her head in acknowledgement. Velkan wasn’t present but Quinn suspected he would be tending to the unicorns. Other than Kellan himself, Velkan was certainly the best man for the job. He had a natural affinity for caring for the wards. Quinn could only imagine the strain the herd had taken last night. They had been trapped in the barn initially, but eight members of the Fae had eventually freed them and fled, Freya amongst them. The unicorns had stampeded from the barn in a flat panic, eyes rolling and rearing, the Fae clinging helplessly to their backs. It must have taken most of the morning to track them all down.

There were no vampires present in the house, no doubt a precaution taken to protect them should Quinn be unable to control her Slayer instincts. She could sense them, though, on the property. She could sense Drake, too. The blinding pain of before had subsided to a dull ache and she caught snatches of what he was feeling: anger, regret, confusion, but she could deal with it so long as he was not too close.

The atmosphere in the library was sombre and defeatist. Quinn found herself wishing Isaiah was here. He had always known how to lift their spirits – to inspire hope even in the bleakest of times. Isaiah had been their rock and they had drawn strength from him. Quinn had drawn strength from him. Thinking of him now, she recalled his last words to her: There is something you need to know. Was it possible that even from the grave he would find a way to give her hope? She spied Daniel on the opposite side of the room and shouldered her way to his side.

“What did he want you to tell me?” she asked. Daniel didn’t look in the least bit surprised, but he did hold up a hand to interrupt her before she could continue.

“We can talk later, Quinn. It’s not something I think the others should know.”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed in confusion. She had suspected it had something to do with her directly, but not that it would be something that only she should know. The Guardians didn’t keep secrets from one another. Daniel waited for her to acknowledge him, and, after only a moment’s hesitation, she did, giving him a curt nod. They would discuss it later. Satisfied, Daniel turned away from her, calling on the uneasy crowd to settle down.

“We lost good people today,” Daniel spoke to the room at large, though his gaze lingered for a second on Cara, who was still weeping. It surprised Quinn that Daniel would show compassion for the gypsies, but it seemed that they were now well and truly allies. “But all of the wards survived,” Daniel continued. “It’s a miracle, considering how many vampires attacked, but it’s a victory.”

“I wouldn’t call it a victory,” Quinn spoke softly, her thoughts still on Isaiah. The room fell silent.

“Things could have been a lot worse,” her father rebuked gently.

“There has also been another development,” Daniel continued, holding up Isaiah’s phone. Quinn frowned at her father but he shook his head. Whatever Daniel had to tell them, it was news to Braddon. “Camille called just a few minutes ago.” Daniel set the phone on the table before him. “She has been marked. It would seem that the Ormonde bloodline is particularly strong.” Quinn gasped in dismay. Camille was Monique’s mother, and, along with Tristan, would be the third in their family to be branded simultaneously. When Isaiah died and Quinn had taken his place as the Slayer, it was inevitable that a new Guardian would emerge, but she would never have expected Tristan’s kind, gentle sister.

Quinn found Avery’s face in the crowd. The blood had drained from her face and she seemed incapable of speech.

“The twins?” Quinn asked, fear for her niece and nephew overriding her shock.

“I have instructed Camille to stay put,” Daniel said. Avery slumped in her seat, but she didn’t give the slightest indication that Quinn had spoken or had asked for the information she so obviously needed. Braddon, however, who was sitting beside Avery, caught Quinn’s eye and gave a shake of his head, warning her to leave it.

“I would consider it a blessing that it was Camille and not some stranger who was branded,” Daniel continued, oblivious. “At least she knows not to report to Summerfeld. She is safe.”

Quinn had never felt as grateful as she did in that moment. Daniel could just as easily have told Camille to return.

“Whatever course we choose to follow now, Camille will not be a part of it,” Daniel continued, holding Quinn’s gaze.

“Where will we go now that this house is no longer safe?” Piper broke the tense atmosphere and Quinn flinched as she caught sight of her friend’s face. Like the others, Piper had cleaned herself up, but her face was a mess. Her lip was split in two places and a dark ugly bruise had spread across her left cheek. She would heal quickly enough, but Quinn could only imagine how much of a beating her friend had taken.

“I don’t know,” Daniel admitted, “but as far from here as we can get.”

Nobody offered any suggestions so Quinn got to her feet.

“I have an idea.” All eyes turned to look at her, including Avery. She noticed her sister eying her warily, but Quinn ignored it. Only Avery and Kellan knew what had happened in the stables when she had given Drake her blood, but she trusted that neither would mention it. There were more important things to worry about. “Brookfield, the town where I was staying when you took Jack and Ava from me,” she explained, “there’s an old abandoned railway station. It’s dilapidated, but it’s big enough for all of us. It’s surrounded by woods and easily defendable.”

“Charlotte’s been there,” Liam interrupted. “She knows Drake had a permanent residence in Brookfield. She might think to check the area.”

They all fell silent at this. Quinn couldn’t think of another option. Surprisingly, it was the newest Guardian present who offered an alternative.

“My grandparent’s farm,” Austin said. “It’s perfect. The grounds are big enough and it’s in the middle of nowhere.” Quinn thought back to the short visit she had made to the Lindberg farm to retrieve Blair’s crystal. It was certainly off the beaten track.

“That just might work,” she mused, “although there is the small problem of your grandparents being in residence.”

“Humans can be compelled,” Daniel snapped, earning himself a harsh glare from Austin. “It won’t hurt them,” Daniel added, realising he might have been a little tactless, “but it would solve the problem. And we do have vampires among us who could do it.”

“Well, unless anyone has a better idea, I say we go for it,” Quinn nodded. “All in favour?”

The entire room raised their hands.

Quinn?

Hearing her name, Quinn glanced around, looking for whoever had called her, before recognising his voice.

Quinn? Drake reached out again, in her mind, and, as he did, her private thoughts were exposed to him. She could feel him rifling through her head, a confusing tidal wave of emotion and turmoil, but one single thought stuck out above the rest before she could hide it. Drake learned of her plan before she had even told the others.

No, Quinn, no! You can’t. She’ll kill you! Quinn could sense his desperation but she had already made her decision. Charlotte would pay for her crimes. She might have defeated Quinn last night but Quinn was the Slayer now. She was the fastest and the strongest of them all and she would destroy the woman who had taken everything from her.

Get out of my head. She thought the words, knowing Drake would hear them.

I wish I could.

He meant it. She could feel just how much he meant it. Using every ounce of her resolve she drowned him out, focusing on the task at hand.

“Where is Tristan?” she asked. She might as well get started.

“He’s in the study off the hall,” Liam answered.

Quinn’s eyes found Avery’s. “I need your help.” She didn’t want to involve her sister, they were barely on speaking terms, but no one else could do what she needed.

Initially Avery baulked at Quinn’s proposed plan. She couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same room as Tristan, but more so, she honestly didn’t believe that she could convince him.

“He’ll never fall for it,” she told Quinn.

“We have to try.”

“I can’t... I can’t even bear the sight of him.”

Quinn took both of Avery’s hands in her own and saw again the frenzied, wild look in her sister’s eyes. Avery didn’t pull away and Quinn stifled a sigh of relief, encouraged.

“What are you afraid of?” she murmured, searching Avery’s face. Her touch seemed to calm Avery slightly and she squeezed back as she answered truthfully.

“I don’t know if I can control myself.” Her words terrified Quinn. The thought that Avery might murder Tristan, in cold blood, for what he had done proved that she wasn’t the same kind, compassionate girl she once was, and what she said next confirmed it. “Something happened to me in those dungeons, Quinn. I’m not the same. I’m scared of what I might do.”

“Listen to me,” Quinn lowered her voice and spoke with all the authority she could muster. “You will get your revenge. Tristan will be punished, I give you my word. And we will get through this, together. I will never understand what you went through, but I know that you are stronger than this. They didn’t break you, Avery. Think about Jack and Ava...” she trailed off as tears welled in Avery’s eyes at the mention of her children. “They need their mother,” Quinn continued, a lump forming in her own throat. “You have to be strong, for them. But first, we have to protect the wards. That’s our responsibility. We are still the Guardians of Summerfeld.”

“There is no Summerfeld!” Avery hissed. “They’ve won.”

Quinn could understand Avery’s desolation. They had all suffered terribly as a result of Tristan’s betrayal and the fact that so many of the wards had been destroyed, but Quinn would not stop fighting. She would not be broken.

“The City may have been destroyed, but what we stand for hasn’t,” she replied firmly. “Now you need to pull yourself together and help me.”

“I don’t want you to go after her,” Avery admitted weakly. “I could never forgive myself if she did to you what she did to me.”

“She won’t,” Quinn announced, so fiercely that Avery flinched. “I am the Slayer, Avery. I can beat Charlotte. You have to trust me.”

“You really believe that?”

“I do.” Quinn nodded. “That bitch won’t hurt anyone ever again.” Heaving a sigh, Avery closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again.

“What exactly do you want to know?” Quinn’s heart soared at the resolve in her sister’s eyes. They hadn’t broken her. Avery was damaged, of that there was no doubt, and it was possible she would never be the same again, but she was fighting.

“Where those crystals are,” Quinn replied.

Daniel intercepted them as they left the library. “Quinn, perhaps we could speak now?”

“Not now,” Quinn shook her head. “I have a plan, but we need to get moving. I won’t be long. Can we meet back here in an hour or so?” The others would be packing for some time and they certainly wouldn’t be ready to leave before midday.

“Sure.” Daniel extended his arm, gesturing to her to go out first. As Quinn guided Avery toward the study she missed the pensive look in Daniel’s eyes as he watched her go.

Chapter 4

The study door was open and one of Lenora’s human servants stood just outside it, his hands crossed over his chest, legs apart, as though he had watched one too many crime scene movies and thought he had to look the part. Still, Quinn gave him a grateful smile before gesturing that he should move away. She almost expected him to salute, but he didn’t.

“You ready?’ Quinn whispered to Avery, who was watching the man’s departing back. She nodded.

When Quinn entered the room Tristan jumped in his chair thinking she might be Avery. He didn’t get very far, given the restraints that held him in place. Still, the hope that flared briefly in his eyes was impossible to miss. When he realised she wasn’t Avery, he slumped back, gazing up at her hollowly. His mind had been so tainted by his obsession with Avery that Quinn wondered whether he was still in full control of his faculties, but his reaction to her arrival, in the split second he thought she might be Avery, gave Quinn hope, hope that her plan might just work. Tristan would never reveal the vampire’s secrets, not to her, anyway, but Avery was his Achilles’ heel.

Satisfied, Quinn motioned toward the door. As Avery stepped silently into the room behind her, Tristan gaped up at his wife. She was still far too thin, but at least she had some colour in her cheeks and her clean hair was tucked neatly behind her ears. Her eyes were cold and hateful, but Tristan didn’t seem to notice.

“Avery,” he breathed, his eyes feasting on the sight of her, as though he couldn’t bear to look away. It reminded Quinn of the first time he had ever laid eyes on her sister. He had looked at her in much the same way then. It had broken Quinn’s heart. Now, Quinn felt a fool for not realising that their brief time together when she had returned to the Guardianship had been a farce. Tristan had never cared for her. He had simply been using her to try to get his hands on her crystal. Hers and Avery’s.

Avery took in the ropes binding Tristan’s arms and legs and the memories of her captivity overwhelmed her. Swaying, she reached out a hand, pressing it against the cold wall to steady herself. With a surge of satisfaction, Quinn noticed the concern come over Tristan’s face. Unwittingly, Avery had just furthered their cause.

“What is it?” Tristan asked, straining against the ropes binding his wrists as he tried to reach for her. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Avery murmured, coming to the same conclusion as Quinn and playing up her vulnerability. “I’m still just a little weak. Charlotte’s methods were... well, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you. You were there after all.”

“Avery,” his voice broke, “you have to know that I didn’t want that. I never wanted you to get hurt. I didn’t know... you have to believe that I would never have condoned them hurting you.”

“I know.” Those words silenced him as Avery continued. “I remember. You were very clear on that when you visited. But it’s what they did when you weren’t there...” She paused dramatically, lulling him into a false sense of security, before resuming. Her voice had dropped to barely more than a whisper, making her seem timid and vulnerable. “They hurt me, Tristan. They tortured me and they enjoyed every second of it. Charlotte fed from me.” Quinn’s own gasp of outrage echoed Tristan’s at this revelation. A vampire feeding off a Guardian was the ultimate degradation. A vile act intended to humiliate. Avery’s body was quivering as she relived the memory and this time it was no act. Quinn clenched both fists at her sides in an effort not to reach for her sister and offer words of comfort.

“I didn’t know,” Tristan shook his head in denial. “She promised me... she swore...”

“And you believed her?” Avery cried. She took two steps toward him and Quinn steeled herself, ready to intervene, but Avery surprised her, dropping to her knees at Tristan’s feet and meeting his gaze. “She hurt me,” she echoed. Tristan shook his head from side to side, his eyes closing tightly as though he could block her out simply by not seeing her.

“Please stop,” he pleaded. “I can’t... I can’t hear anymore.” The guilt was festering, spreading through him like a black, ugly cancer. Quinn could sense that Avery was becoming unhinged, but she prayed that she would find the strength to go on, to push, now that she had Tristan where she wanted him. She only hoped that Tristan would snap before Avery. It took a lot to push aside her own guilt at putting Avery through this.

“Why did you do it?” Avery asked. A simple question, but one designed to make him admit his true feelings once more.

“For you,” Tristan insisted, as they knew he would. “For us. For our family. I did it because I love you.” Avery held his attention, her eyes softening as if this proclamation meant something. Then she lifted her hand and Tristan caught his breath as she brushed his own.

“It was pointless,” Avery crooned regretfully. “You did all of that for me, but you signed my death warrant. I wish you had trusted me. You thought I was going to run, but I wasn’t.” The lie was so convincing that Quinn would have believed it herself if she hadn’t known better. “We could have left... taken the children...” A sob erupted from Avery’s chest, and Quinn sensed that the mention of the children had evoked a very real emotion.

“That’s enough, Avery.” Quinn announced. “You asked me for a few minutes – you’ve had that. Let’s go.” Obediently, Avery got to her feet, throwing Quinn a hateful glare as she did so.

“She told me,” Avery said to Tristan, ignoring Quinn. “About you and her.”

“Oh God,” Tristan looked like he was going to be sick as he turned to Quinn. “You told her?”

“She’s my sister,” Quinn shrugged.

“And yet you had no qualms about sleeping with my husband,” Avery snapped.

Tristan seized his chance to apologise. “I’m so sorry, Avery. I only ever wanted the crystals. I had to make her trust me. It didn’t mean anything!” As much as Quinn despised Tristan, it still stung that he had felt nothing for her while she had entertained a future with him.

Avery looked at Tristan for a long time as though weighing up the truth in his words.

“She never got over you,” she finally admitted. “I know it wasn’t only your fault.” She cast an accusatory look at Quinn, making it clear where she apportioned the bulk of the blame.

“Enough,” Quinn said. “You’ve had your time to say goodbye. Now out.”

Avery seemed about to argue, but then she cast one last look at Tristan and headed for the door.

“Goodbye, Tristan,” she murmured.

“Wait!” Tristan seemed to come alive as he watched Avery’s departing figure but she didn’t turn around. Quinn followed Avery, hiding a smug smile as she reached the door. “Quinn, wait!” Tristan was frantic. Composing herself, she turned to face him, arching a dark brow.

“What?” she snapped.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his face a mask of terror. “Why did she come here? What do you mean she had time to say goodbye? What’s going on?”

“You have no right to ask questions here, Tristan.”

“She’s my wife!”

Quinn actually laughed at that. “How can you even say that? After everything you did to her.”

He didn’t even bother apologising, not to her. “Regardless of your opinion of me, I have a right to know what’s going on.”

“Fine,” Quinn snapped, feigning irritation. “If you really want to know I’ll tell you, but you’re going to wish I hadn’t.”

“Tell me.”

“All your plans to keep her safe were for nothing.” The lie slipped easily from her lips. “Avery’s going after Charlotte.”

“What?” Tristan erupted. “You can’t let her do that!”

Quinn let her shoulders slump, allowing herself to look defeated. “I don’t have a choice. She’s made her decision and nothing I say will make any difference. She’s not the same.”

“Quinn, listen to me!” Tristan writhed against his restraints with newfound vigour. “I’m the only reason Charlotte kept her alive before. Now that I’m gone, Charlotte will kill her!”

Quinn finally snapped, crossing the room in two strides and lowering her face so that their noses were almost touching. His blue eyes, which she had always thought so boyish and beautiful, were shimmering with fear, but Quinn finally saw beyond his youthful charm to the person beneath. A weak and insipid man who had walked away from his duty. Tristan was a coward, and Quinn couldn’t believe she had once chosen him over Drake, who had risked his life to save them all. A vampire who was ten times the man Tristan could ever be.

“And yet you took that bitch’s side!” Quinn roared, right up in Tristan’s face. “You sold us out, to a monster!”

“She’ll kill her!” Tristan repeated, refusing to be swayed off course. His only concern was Avery, he didn’t give a damn about the rest.

“You think I don’t know that?” Quinn hissed into his face. “Thanks to you I’m about to lose my sister all over again. And this time she’s not coming back!” Drawing a stake from her belt she pressed it against his neck. “I should kill you right now,” she growled, and a part of her was desperate to actually do it. “If it wasn’t for you, none of this would have happened!”

“You can hate me all you want,” Tristan struggled to speak as the stake pressed against his voice box, “but you have to save her.”

“It’s too late for that,” Quinn intoned, so softly that she wondered if he had heard her. Her words held a double meaning, unbeknown to Tristan. She could protect Avery from physical harm, but Quinn wondered whether she would ever truly be able to save her sister from the darkness that had settled inside of her, whether she would ever be able to fully heal the scars that Tristan’s betrayal and her torture had inflicted. Stepping deliberately back towards the door, Quinn heard Tristan’s cries, begging her to do something, anything. She feigned a look of ignorance as she turned back to him again.

“What would you have me do, Tristan? Kill Charlotte myself?” She gave a mock laugh of derision, but in reality she watched his expression very carefully. She saw the moment that he came to the only logical conclusion, one that she had planted in his mind without him even realising it, but she kept her face impassive.

“Yes!” Tristan gasped. “That’s it! You’re the Slayer now, Quinn! If anybody can kill Charlotte, it’s you. Please, you have to do it... Charlotte will annihilate Avery. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to her.”

“Your concern for my own safety is truly touching,” Quinn countered, but she appeared thoughtful.

“I’m sorry,” Tristan was placatory, determined to get her on his side. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“That’s bullshit, and we both know it.”

“I didn’t!” Tristan insisted. “I never set out to kill the Guardians. I simply wanted the wards destroyed. I wanted the charm broken.” Quinn forgot herself for a moment and let her anger show.

“And if the rest of us got killed in the process, I suppose that was just collateral damage?”

“You can think what you want of me, Quinn, but everything I did, I did for my family; for Avery and the children. Just as you did when you abandoned the Guardians to take care of Jack and Ava. You and I are more alike than you want to believe and we both know it.”

“For someone so concerned about your children, you’ve hardly worried about where they are,” Quinn countered.

To her surprise, Tristan smiled. “I didn’t ask where they were for a reason,” he replied simply. “Do you really think I wanted Jack and Ava in Charlotte’s clutches? And to answer your implied insinuation, I didn’t ask exactly where you had taken them because I didn’t want to know, in case...”

“In case Charlotte turned on you, too?” Quinn breathed. It appeared Tristan hadn’t been as taken in by Charlotte as she had thought.

“You did me a favour getting them as far from Summerfeld as possible. I wasn’t going to question it.”

“And now you want me to do you another favour?” Quinn sneered. “It seems to me that I am far more effective at protecting your family than you have ever been.”

“I can’t deny that. Please, do what I failed to do.”

“I have no idea where Charlotte is.” Quinn was finally getting to the crux of why she had come here in the first place.

“She’s at her house,” Tristan volunteered immediately. “She’s been there since we left the ruins of the City.”

“And the crystals?”

Tristan smiled, not so easily fooled. “I can’t tell you that.”

“You’re still hoping that the vampires will win this war, aren’t you,” Quinn was disgusted. “That by some miracle your plan might come to fruition and once all the wards are destroyed you can have Avery’s memory wiped. Let me tell you something, you spineless little shit. That will never happen. I will make sure of it. If you want any chance of redemption, tell me what I need to know, and maybe, just maybe, if you spend an eternity trying to right the wrongs you have done, you might regain a mere iota of her respect. If you want Avery to feel anything for you again, then help us.” Quinn hurled the words at him, trying to inflict pain, but still, the resounding truth could not be missed. Relenting slightly, she continued more gently. “You’re not evil, Tristan. You’re sick. Delusional. Your obsession with Avery has blinded you and you have made terrible mistakes, unforgiveable mistakes. But you can still make amends. Isaiah once told me that when a Guardian loses his way, he will find his way back in his own time. This is your time. Prove that you’re not a monster. Please. Tell me what I need to know.”

The words hung in the air between them and Quinn wondered for a moment if he had even heard her, slumped as he was in his chair, his face in shadow. She had played her trump card. If this didn’t work, nothing would. A sickening sense of failure passed over her as Tristan stayed perfectly still, saying nothing. She was about to leave when he lifted his head. Quinn could barely believe what she was seeing. Tears spilled from his eyes, running over his cheeks and dripping onto the front of his filthy shirt. In that moment Quinn felt only pity. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and his face crumpled with the shame that he had finally been made to feel. Tristan was broken.

‘You’ll make sure she’s safe?” he asked, and Quinn knew that the battle was won.

“I give you my word.”

“Then I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Chapter 5

While Tristan was spilling his secrets to Quinn, Charlotte had taken refuge from the sun in a house only a few miles away. Charlotte was in a foul temper. She had already disposed of the only human occupant of the house in a frenzy of rage and was now licking her wounds. The humiliation of her failure washed over her in waves and her skin crawled with disgust. Even the fact that she had killed the Slayer did not make up for the fact that the wards still lived; that Quinn still lived - and Drake! Charlotte couldn’t fathom how he had survived. She had staked him through the chest. There was no way she had missed his heart. Even if she had only nicked it, he should have bled out. And yet he had been there when she had taken Lenora hostage. He had watched her kill the Slayer. Why would the bastard not die?

And then Charlotte had had to endure Aleksei’s wrath. It was imperative that she prove herself capable in order to get back in his good graces. She still wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t suspect her of treason. She had used Sloane as a scapegoat but that wasn’t to say she was in the clear. She had toyed with the idea of withholding what had happened, putting it off for another day in the hope that she would find the Guardians again tonight and finish what she had started, but Aleksei had been insistent that she update him daily. In the end she had made the dreaded call, telling him that she had found the wards but that she had failed to kill them. Aleksei’s icy calm carried a subtle threat, but it was no less effective.

“Find them. You have one week. I expect a daily update, as usual.” was all he had said and Charlotte had felt the icy hand of fear trickle down her spine, mingling with the anger and shame. She knew with absolute certainty that unless she destroyed the wards soon, she would not live much longer.

Still clasping her phone in her hand she paced the darkened hall. She would have to wait until nightfall to return to Lenora’s house, not that she had expected that anyone would still be there. She jumped as the phone rang. Expecting Aleksei, no doubt with further instructions, she raised it automatically to her cheek.

“Hello?” She winced as she heard the tremor in her own voice, but the voice she heard on the other end of the line was not Aleksei’s.

“Hello Charlotte,” Quinn said.

Hastily checking the screen, Charlotte recognised Tristan’s number. “Quinn,” she crooned sweetly, “what a pleasant surprise.”

“I think it’s time you and I had a little chat,” Quinn replied, just as calmly. If Charlotte was surprised, she didn’t show it.

“I agree. Where and when?”

“Your house. Three days from now.”

Charlotte quickly calculated. If they were still in the same vicinity, they could both be back at the manor house by then. Quinn must be close. Probably they hadn’t yet left Lenora’s. It infuriated her that her enemies were only a few miles away and she was powerless to do anything about it.

“I look forward to it,” Charlotte said, but the line had already gone dead.

“Miss Charlotte?” A voice sounded to her right. One of the young vampires who had fled along with her last night loitered in the space between the hall and the kitchen, unsure of his reception.

“What is it?” she snapped.

“There’s something we thought you might like to see.”

Charlotte followed him through to the living room, where a small group of her army had gathered. The others had taken up residence in houses along the same street. Charlotte had been quick to issue instructions when they arrived and every available body had started gathering new recruits, calling in vampires, from far and wide, who would wait until darkness fell to join them. She needed to replenish her numbers. Many of her people had been killed last night.

“Well?” Charlotte demanded, as the group seemed to shrink against the walls, shying away from her. The same youth who had summoned her cleared his throat, holding out his hand to a plain, mousy-haired vampire girl beside him. Wordlessly, she handed over a cell phone which he passed to Charlotte.

“Bethany made contact with her sire at Summerfeld,” the boy explained as Charlotte gazed at the words on the screen. “The vampire Dimitri. He gave her the news. We thought... well, given that you and the councilman were close... we thought that you might want to know.”

Charlotte’s face remained impassive as she read the short thread of text messages. Sloane was dead. It was nothing less than she had expected, given that she had offered him up to Aleksei as a sheep to the slaughter to shift suspicion from herself, but she didn’t need anyone else knowing that. Some of these vampires had been Sloane’s people.

“What is your name?” she demanded of the boy.

“Peter, my lady.”

“And do we know what happened, Peter?” she asked, injecting just the right amount of dejection in her tone.

“It would seem that he displeased King Aleksei.”

Charlotte nodded, passing the phone back. “Thank you for letting me know,” she said graciously. “I am sure Sloane would have appreciated your loyalty.” She watched them closely, assessing their reactions. If she were to take over Sloane’s people and gather her forces around her against Aleksei, this would be the time to start. To her outrage, the youth drew himself up to his full height and met her gaze levelly.

“We do not need his appreciation. He was a traitor. He deserved what he got.”

A scream welled up in Charlotte’s chest as, with those simple words, her best-laid plans unravelled. She choked it down, but such was the force of her rage that the room’s occupants scattered in all directions, sensing trouble.

When the room was clear, Charlotte took a seat on the sofa, racking her brain. Her plan had backfired. She had wanted Sloane out of the way, but she had anticipated his followers being furious at his death. She had hoped that they would join her, united in a common goal – to avenge their leader. As it turned out, the mindless fools would follow Aleksei, to their deaths if they must. His dominion was unquestioned, unbreakable and unopposed. Charlotte bit back the bile in her throat as an eternity stretched before her, spent serving a man she detested.

Chapter 6

Miles away, lost in thoughts just as dark as Charlotte’s, but nowhere near as hedonistic, Drake prowled the perimeter of Lenora’s property. His body was coiled as tightly as the fists at his sides. He had tried a few times to reach out to Quinn during the course of the day, but she had shut him out every time. He had caught snippets of what she was up to, though, and the sight of Tristan made him sick to the stomach. Even though he knew that Quinn despised him, Drake couldn’t help feeling envious of Tristan. He had, after all, seduced Quinn and shared her bed. Something that Drake would never be able to do. He couldn’t believe that, after all this time, Quinn had finally admitted her true feelings and, in the same instant, she had been wrenched away from him. It didn’t bother him half as much as it should that she was now the Slayer. They would deal with that. Drake wasn’t afraid, not of her. It was the bond that terrified him. The bond would destroy them. It had to be broken; but how? His first thoughts had been the Book – the book that legend spoke of, which held all Eldon’s secrets – but Quinn would have known if it held any answers, and besides, Lenora had told him that the book had been destroyed. The Guardians had burned it when Summerfeld was attacked, choosing to destroy it rather than let it fall into enemy hands, which left them with nothing, nowhere to even begin searching for a way to break the bond.

For the first time in his life, Drake didn’t appreciate the warmth of the sun on his back. What did it matter if he could walk freely in the day if those days were spent alone without the woman he loved. The bond was his prison, as the day was Lenora’s.

Spotting the Fae boy who tended the unicorns leaving the barn, Drake realised he had ventured closer to the house than he intended. He could gauge how close Quinn was by the pain. It escalated in relation to their proximity. Velkan disappeared into the house and Drake turned back the way he had come, only to let out a yelp of surprise. Evangeline stood right behind him as though she had appeared out of thin air. The old faery woman unnerved Drake. Her comment during the wedding ceremony had troubled him. She had touched his cheek as though she knew something no one else did, and her words had been both encouraging and accusatory. She had told him to prepare himself, told him that it was almost time – but time for what, exactly?

“Are you ready?” Evangeline asked, her shock of white hair hanging past her shoulders. Unlike the other members of the Fae who typically braided their hair, Evangeline wore hers loose, giving her a wild, outlandish appearance. She had her bow and quiver slung over her shoulders and was holding a dead hare by the ears.

“Ready for what?” Drake snapped, disconcerted.

“Your choice,” Evangeline replied enigmatically.

“What choice?”

“I saw you in the barn,” she changed the subject abruptly. “The vampire staked you. You should have died.”

“I guess I got lucky,” Drake muttered, deciding that Evangeline was certifiably nuts. He wouldn’t get a word of sense out of her.

“No,” Evangeline all but sang, shaking her head, “you got her blood.”

Dimly, Drake recalled that Evangeline had been in the barn, hiding in the rafters as she brought down vampire after vampire with her arrows. She would have seen everything that happened.

“Are you going to tell anyone?” he asked.

“Not my secret to tell,” Evangeline tapped his cheek again, fondly, as though he was a small child she was consoling. “But you do need to prepare yourself. You must be ready.”

“Ready for what?” Drake raised his voice, but Evangeline had already brushed past him, picking her way delicately across the lawn, while the blood of the hare dripped behind her.

“Crazy old duck,” Drake mumbled. A small snapping sound to his left caught his attention and he turned to see a bird watching him curiously from a branch overhead. His jaw ached and it occurred to him that he had had no blood other than Quinn’s in the past forty-eight hours. Being with these people, socialising with them, made him feel even guiltier about his diet, but he needed to keep his strength up – now, more than ever.

Heaving a sigh, Drake made his way back to the pool-house in which Lenora had taken refuge from the sun.

“I can’t actually tell you how annoying it is that you can waltz around all day,” she announced dramatically, but her smile contradicted her tone. “You need to feed,” she added, taking in his pallor and the dark circles under his eyes. “Hannah would be happy to oblige.” Before Drake could stop her she called over the shy young maid. “Hannah offers her blood freely,” she said, as Drake made to argue. Accustomed to providing a food source solely for her mistress, the sight of Drake was almost too much for the young girl. She blushed profusely as Lenora waved her toward him.

Resigned, Drake ignored her proffered neck as she swept her fair hair off one shoulder. Instead, he took her hand, and with an almost clinical detachment, sunk his fangs into her wrist. Her blood pooled in his mouth, warm and wet and wrong, but he felt his strength returning almost immediately.

“Thank you,” he acknowledged, when he had finished, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Hannah bobbed awkwardly before him and Lenora smiled as she walked away; a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, but she summoned some of her intrinsic sarcasm, trying to lighten the moment.

“It’s criminal that you have that effect on every woman you come into contact with,” she said. Drake ignored that.

“Will you stay with us?” he asked instead, wondering what Lenora would do once night fell.

“Us?” she raised a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “You really are a true defender of Summerfeld now.”

“There is no Summerfeld. And I’m not choosing a side, I’m simply doing the right thing. If that puts me on their side, so be it. So,” he repeated, “will you stay with us?”

“What else would I do?”

“I don’t know. Run, hide, get as far away from all of this as possible.” He spoke without thinking, his own inner turmoil consuming him. He was so lost in thought that it took some time before he noticed that Lenora had fallen silent. Glancing across at her, he saw her fists clenched tightly beside her, her eyes fixed on the floor at her feet. Something about the dejected way she held herself snapped him out of his own private hell. He had been so focused on the bond and the agony of losing any possibility of a relationship with Quinn that he had all but forgotten that Lenora had lost Isaiah. Isaiah was gone and he wasn’t coming back. Despite the curse of the bond, Quinn was alive. She was here, safe, even if she was lost to him. Cursing his own selfishness, he placed a hand gently on Lenora’s arm.

“I’m a terrible friend,” he murmured softly. “Through everything that is going on I haven’t even asked you how you are.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, keeping her eyes downcast. “And I wouldn’t run. I’m not a coward.” She spoke with absolute certainty, but Drake could hear the underlying quaver in her voice as her emotion got the better of her.

“You’re not fine,” he contradicted. “Of course you’re not fine. I know how much Isaiah meant to you.” She flinched visibly at the mention of his name, but she recovered quickly.

“This is a war. We’ve all lost something or someone we cared about.”

“Yes, but I’m not talking about anyone else. I’m talking about you. You’re allowed to grieve, Lenora. You’re allowed to mourn him.”

“I will,” she nodded absently. “When this is over.”

“Miss Lenora?” A tentative voice interrupted and Drake glanced up to find Dylan standing over them. He had a set of keys in his hand. “It’s ready. Do you still want me to...?”

“Go,” Lenora waved her hand at him. “Keep your phone on you. I’ll let you know where to meet us.”

Dylan nodded, but he hesitated before moving away. “Be safe,” he said eventually, seeming embarrassed by his obvious concern for her welfare, but Lenora smiled up at him.

“I will. You too, Dylan. I’ll see you soon.”

“What was that about?” Drake asked when the butler had left.

“A gift, for your friend Quinn.” He could tell that she would say no more.

They fell silent then, the minutes ticking slowly by. Drake could hear Guardians moving around outside, but he remained seated. His senses were so acute that he would sense an enemy approaching from where he sat, not that they had much to worry about with the sun beating down. After about an hour Lenora spoke, suddenly, and the sound seemed amplified after the extended silence.

“How can you walk in the sun?” The question was unexpected and Drake opened his mouth before shutting it again. “You never told me,” she continued, as though they were in the middle of a conversation. The sad accusation was impossible to miss. Lenora was his closest friend, she had helped him at his lowest, and yet he had kept his secret, even from her. She deserved more than that.

“I never told anybody.”

“Have you always been able to? I mean, right from the time you were turned?”

“Yes.” It was partly true.

“Only the magic of the Fae could allow you to do that...” It was the closest she was going to get to asking him who had bestowed the gift upon him.

“Yes.”

She smiled then, a secret smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, what? Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that you have more secrets than we could ever suspect.” Her tone was light, teasing, and he relaxed.

“Really? Any idea what those secrets are?”

“I have my suspicions.”

“Oh you do, do you? I bet they aren’t even close to the truth.”

“I bet you’d be surprised,” she replied cryptically, leaving him with a disconcerted feeling in his chest.

“So, Quinn is the Slayer now,” she changed the subject abruptly.

“Yes.”

“That can’t be easy for either of you.”

“You would know,” he pointed out. She had, after all, been romantically involved with a Slayer herself.

“Yes, but we didn’t have a bond to contend with.”

Drake’s head jerked up at that. “How do you know...?”

Lenora gave him a look that would have withered a lesser man. “I pay attention. You two have been inseparable for weeks. Now you can’t so much as be in the same room together. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“Did you and Isaiah...?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Isaiah was very careful. When we met, before he became the Slayer, he knew the risk of the bond.”

“So did Quinn.”

“Don’t judge her. If my life had been in jeopardy, I have no doubt Isaiah would have done the same thing, bond be damned. She saved your life.” She raised her brow as her curiosity got the better of her. “How does it work, exactly?”

“It’s hard to explain, but it’s as though our minds are linked. It gets harder to separate our own thoughts the closer we get to one another. Everything becomes a jumble.”

“Is it painful?”

“Excruciating.” The sudden urge to confide in somebody else overwhelmed him. “She told me she’s in love with me.”

Lenora grinned, despite herself. “As if we didn’t know that already,” she teased, until the haunted look on his face sobered her. “I’m sorry. It can’t be easy, finally getting the girl and then having her ripped away in such a cruel way.”

“I’m going to find a way to break the bond.” His words were utterly serious.

“Eldon’s magic won’t be easy to undo. It’s a powerful charm.”

“Quinn is going to open that Gateway,” he insisted with absolute conviction. “And when she does, the Fae’s magic will undo the charm.” Lenora didn’t quite think it worked that way, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

Chapter 7

Quinn hung up on Charlotte, her mind already working out the logistics of her plan.

“You’re sure your crystal is there?” she asked Tristan, slipping his phone into her pocket. She might need it to contact Charlotte again. Having revealed the location of the crystals, Tristan was now imparting information all too easily.

“Yes, I can sense it. It’s there. I can only assume the other one is with it. Oliver too.”

“Oliver?”

“Lucas’s replacement,” Tristan looked suitably ashamed of himself.

“Charlotte has the new Guardian?” It was a blow, but not unexpected. “She’ll have him in her dungeon prison,” she continued. Tristan didn’t reply but he nodded in agreement.

“Quinn, there’s something else you need to know.” What he told her next chilled Quinn to her very core, but she listened and remained outwardly calm.

“Thank you,” she said when he was finished. A second later Avery entered the room.

“We should pack,” she said, not looking at Tristan. “If we want to get there by Friday we’ll need to leave soon.”

“No,” Quinn shook her head as Tristan’s eyes widened in horror. “You’re not coming with me.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I am.”

“No, Avery, you’re not. I gave my word.” Her eyes met Tristan’s and Avery didn’t skip a beat.

“To who... him?” she asked incredulously. “So what? He’s a traitor, we don’t owe him anything!”

Tristan’s face fell, but Quinn was resolute. “That’s what sets us apart from him,” she insisted. “We don’t go back on our promises.”

Outside in the hall, Quinn motioned the guard to resume his watch over Tristan. Braddon was waiting a short way down the hall, his face set in a mask of calm, but Quinn could sense his concern.

“Dad, I need you to call all the Guardians back to the library,” Quinn told him.

“Everything okay?”

“No, not really, but we do have new information. I’d like to let everyone know.” Braddon nodded once and then headed in the direction of the stairs.

A spitting Avery followed her all the way back toward the library, hurling insults and a never-ending stream of reasons why she should accompany Quinn to Charlotte’s.

“I owe that bitch!” she said finally.

“I’m not discussing this with you, Avery. You’re not coming. Now, you can hate me for it, and you can curse me all you like, but I’m not going to change my mind. You’re in no state to face her, and, even if you were, she knows how much you mean to me. If she got hold of you...” Quinn swallowed down a lump that had formed in her throat. “You’re not coming.” It was final.

“It’s not your call to make.”

“Actually, it is. This is my mission.”

“Oh really?” Avery sneered. “Who died and made you God?”

“Isaiah,” Quinn replied flatly.

When she re-entered the library, Daniel was waiting, but Quinn had to delay him once more.

“I’ve called everyone back,” she announced. “There’s something they all need to hear.”

While they waited for the other Guardians to arrive, having left everyone else to pack up the assortment of vehicles that would be transporting them to the Lindberg farm, Quinn, Avery and Daniel sat in silence. Avery had her arms crossed so tightly over her chest that Quinn wondered if she’d ever be able to uncross them, but she ignored the dark looks Avery threw her way. She could hear Primera whinnying as Kellan tried to coax him into one of the horseboxes. Lenora had offered up every vehicle she had at her disposal which included a small fleet of quality horseboxes she used to transport her racehorses. Through it all, Quinn was hyper-aware of Drake. He had slipped into her mind and settled himself there, giving her a dull, throbbing ache in her temples.

I don’t suppose you’d step outside for this? Quinn asked.

Not in a million years. If you’re determined to go through with this suicide mission, I at least want to know all the facts. I might even be able to help. I’m a master strategist.

I bet.

He fell silent then, but she knew he was listening to her thoughts. It didn’t take long. Guardians were used to following instructions swiftly, and without question, and in only a few minutes they had gathered. When they were all seated, Quinn stepped into their midst.

“As you know, we spoke with Tristan,” she said, deliberately including Avery. She needn’t have bothered. Avery simply turned away so that Quinn was rewarded with the sight of her back. Quinn stifled a groan of frustration. “The first thing you all need to know is that Aleksei is back,” she announced bluntly. There was no easy way to break it to them, and she herself was still reeling from the shock of Tristan’s revelation, but at least his warning would mean that they were prepared. In her head, Quinn felt Drake’s knee-jerk reaction to the name, a mixture of fear, loathing and reverence, but she didn’t judge him for it. Aleksei was, to the vampires, what Eldon had been to her own people – their leader, their sovereign, their king. She didn’t expect Drake to simply forget everything he had ever believed in.

“That’s impossible,” a chorus of dissent broke out, but Quinn shook her head sadly. The only good thing to come from her proclamation was that Avery swivelled in her chair. That got her attention, Quinn thought darkly. Avery hadn’t heard about Aleksei, nor had she been in the room when Quinn had made the call to Charlotte.

“I wish that were true,” Quinn said, “but it’s not. Aleksei is back. The sooner we accept it, the sooner we can figure out how to deal with it.”

“There is no dealing with Aleksei,” Avery scoffed. “Not even Eldon could defeat him. How are we supposed to?” Again, Quinn sensed the darkness in her sister, the negativity and the loss of hope.

“We’ll figure it out,” she responded, more kindly, “but first, you need to hear the rest.” She proceeded to tell them everything Tristan had told her.

“How do you know he’s not lying?” Piper ventured when she was finished.

“I don’t think he is.” It was that simple.

“What’s the plan, Quinn?” Daniel asked, sensing that she had already devised a course of action.

“It hasn’t changed. I’m going after the crystals.”

“I still don’t think that’s a good idea. Charlotte will gather an army against you, particularly now that you’ve warned her you’re coming.”

For the first time, Quinn smiled. “I’m counting on it.” Not waiting for an answer, she continued. “How many of you have your crystals with you?”

A few curious looks was all the answer she got and Piper shifted in her chair. As a gesture of good faith, Quinn withdrew the sapphire from her pocket and placed it on the table before her. A gasp of astonishment ran through the Guardian ranks as they laid eyes on the crystal which had once belonged to Isaiah, but Quinn ignored them. “The time for secrecy is gone. Now, it is time for us to trust one another – to do what needs to be done to protect the wards who remain. I ask that you trust me now, as you did Isaiah.” The Slayer sword, sheathed behind her back, seemed to pulse as she spoke, with the true conviction of the Slayer.

Daniel eyed her curiously, recalling Isaiah’s words. Isaiah had said that Quinn would change everything; that she would bring about the end of the war. Daniel hadn’t believed it and he still had his doubts, but if ever there was a moment he might be convinced, it was now. Quinn’s striking tanzanite eyes glowed with the courage of her own conviction and Daniel felt himself beginning to believe. Drawing his own crystal, he placed it beside hers. Everyone gazed in wonder at the almost flawless diamond, the size of a large gull’s egg. It was roughly hexagonal in shape, but the clarity of the gem was mesmerising.

“Well, it’s a good thing Tristan never laid eyes on that,” Avery scoffed, breaking the tension. “He probably would’ve hocked it to buy himself a new Porsche.”

Quinn couldn’t help herself and she burst out laughing. Daniel joined in and even Avery smiled at the reaction to her own words. The ice was broken, and, one by one, the other Guardians followed suit, starting with Braddon and the onyx, laying their crystals down until ten stones formed a rudimentary circle on the dark wood. Quinn watched with disbelief. She had expected to send them out to retrieve their stones.

“Isaiah told us to fetch them,” Piper answered her unspoken question, “a few weeks ago. He asked us to get them and to keep them close. We didn’t know why, but... well, I’m guessing it was for this reason?”

Quinn pressed her lips together, her face burning. Isaiah had known. He had prepared everyone and saved Quinn a lot of trouble. Her eyes prickled but she smiled through the tears, gazing down at the crystals on the table.

“Don’t forget this,” Monique leaned forward and placed the Hawkstone in the centre. The sight of the sacred stone sobered everyone.

“Two are missing,” Quinn murmured. “Only two crystals stand between us opening the Rose Gate and releasing Wintyr from the temple. When we release the Fae’s magic our friends will have a fighting chance against the vampires. Wintyr will restore the City and we can return to our home.” Saying them out loud the words sounded so simple, so attainable, but, in reality, the task she was undertaking was monumental.

“How will we get them back?” Piper asked. “If the vampires have those crystals we don’t stand a chance.”

“Yes we do,” Quinn replied evenly. It was time to tell them how she proposed to defeat Charlotte. “All this time we’ve been fighting at a disadvantage. Now I’m going to use the most powerful weapon we have against them.” She paused as all eyes were drawn to her sword, and she felt once again the burden of her responsibility, but she corrected them quickly. “As powerful as the Slayer is, I am not our greatest weapon.”

“Then what is?” Austin asked, his gun at his waist. Quinn allowed herself a small smile before replying.

“The sun.”

“Tell us what you want us to do,” Daniel instructed, when the room had quietened down again after another outburst.

Quinn turned to him gratefully. “I want you to take the wards to Austin’s grandparent’s farm. I told Charlotte I’ll meet her in three days which gives you enough time to get there. You’ll be taking the gypsies and all the civilians too – Lenora’s staff won’t be safe here anymore either. Charlotte will torture them for information. You’ll also take our vampire allies...” she trailed off as Drake’s voice boomed in her mind

No, Quinn! That is not an option!

Once more, she shut him out. It wasn’t without effort, and she took a deep breath before continuing, “Keep them safe and be ready when I call for you. If I secure the crystals, I’m going to head straight for the City. You’ll need to get there as quickly as you can.”

“We can’t leave the wards unprotected!” Piper squeaked, incredulous.

“They won’t be unprotected. Not entirely. Some of you will send your crystals with Daniel, the rest will remain behind.” The thought of handing their most treasured possessions over alarmed the others and a murmur of dissent ran through the small group.

“I asked you to trust me,” Quinn reminded gently. “I will let Daniel decide who makes the journey to Summerfeld and who stays behind with the wards.”

“Me?” Daniel blinked in confusion. “Surely I will be with you when you attack Charlotte’s men?”

“No,” Quinn corrected. “The Guardians need a leader. If I fail, a new Slayer will emerge and you will need to come up with a new plan. This is how it is,” she added, as he opened his mouth to argue. “The Guardianship is a cycle; one that will not stop. We cannot lose another Original Guardian, particularly now that the Book has been destroyed. You are too valuable, Daniel. Besides, I need you to keep those crystals safe.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you took them with you?” Braddon asked.

“We can’t risk it. If I fail, we can’t let Charlotte get her hands on those stones.”

“If you fail?” Braddon’s voice sounded resigned, as though he had only just realised that Quinn might not return, as though the consequences of her mission had only now occurred to him.

“I won’t fail,” Quinn forced as much confidence into her voice as possible. Thankfully, Daniel changed the subject.

“If I am to stay behind, who will go with you?” he asked. “Surely you don’t intend to go alone?”

“No,” she agreed. “I’m taking Liam,” she turned to the Hunter and he nodded his assent. Taking a deep breath, Quinn uttered the words she had been dreading, “and Monique.”

This revelation was too much for the others, who had all come to feel very protective over their youngest member and they all started to protest the decision at once. It was as though they had forgotten that Monique was in the room, listening to every word.

“Monique is practically untrained,” Daniel’s voice rose over the others. “And she’s only a child!”

“I’m a Guardian!” Monique roared suddenly. This was in such contrast to Daniel’s calm demeanour that it silenced the others’ dissent. “Stop treating me like a child! I was chosen, just as you all were. I may be young, but Eldon believed in me or I wouldn’t have been branded!” She held up her wrist as proof. “I retrieved the Hawkstone, nobody else, and I think it’s high time you started giving me the respect I deserve! I’m one of you – I’m not a child and I don’t need to be mollycoddled.”

“She’s also a dragon-rider,” Quinn added pointedly. “That’s why I need you,” she spoke directly to Monique. “I’m going to need that Orochian.”

Chapter 8

It didn’t take Quinn long to outline her plan and, while the others were shocked at her daring, they couldn’t find any obvious flaws. The plan was brilliant; if suicidal. It would either work or they would die. There was no in between.

“Daniel,” Quinn turned to him as the others filed out of the library to resume their preparations for departure. “It’s time we had our little chat. Should we take a walk outside?” She assumed Daniel would rather not be overheard and she was right. Daniel said nothing as they crossed the lawn and continued into the cluster of trees edging the immaculate stretch of grass. When they had walked in silence for some time, Quinn decided Daniel might need some prompting, but, as they moved out of sight of the main house, he spoke.

“Before I begin, I want you to know that I do not necessarily agree with what I am about to tell you,” Daniel began. “It was Isaiah’s theory, and I know now that he was wrong. That being said, he asked me to tell you and I can’t deny his last request.”

“Tell me what, Daniel?” She didn’t particularly care whether Daniel agreed with Isaiah or not, she just wanted answers. She wanted the truth. She couldn’t help but feel that Isaiah had left her a message – some clue as to how she was supposed to defeat their enemies. Daniel might not know how to decipher it, but Quinn was certain she would find a hidden clue in his words. After all, she and Isaiah had shared many secrets and, of all the Guardians, he had understood her best.

Daniel seemed uncomfortable and he scuffed his boot in the dirt, sending up a flurry of dried leaves.

“Spit it out, Daniel. What was this theory?”

“In order to explain what Isaiah believed, you need to first understand the prophecy.”

“Which one?” her tone suggested he was stalling. She had studied the Sacred Book. She knew the prophecies by heart.

“This prophecy wasn’t in the Sacred Book,” Daniel replied evenly. That drew Quinn up short. It was impossible. All of Eldon’s prophecies had been transcribed.

“What do you mean, it wasn’t in the Book?”

Daniel seemed to gather himself before he continued. “The original Guardians transcribed the Book from scrolls written by Eldon himself.” Quinn recalled Isaiah mentioning this shortly before the battle of Cliffdale. She had not been paying much attention, but she did so now, because she had a dreadful feeling she knew what Daniel was going to say next.

“You better not be saying what I think you’re saying,” she warned, but Daniel didn’t flinch.

“We did what we thought was best. There were certain things we felt might cause discord in the ranks, things that might undo the fragile threads that bound us together. For the sake of all future Guardians we omitted these things.”

Quinn only just stopped herself from clapping a hand over her mouth. If Daniel was saying what she thought he was saying, it meant that the original Guardians had purposefully withheld information that was intended for all Guardians.

“Just to be clear,” Quinn tried to remain calm, “you’re saying that Eldon gave you information that you simply decided not to include in the Book?”

“I’m saying that we kept some information to ourselves, yes.” His dispassionate attitude riled Quinn.

“Eldon himself intended that information to be conveyed to all of us, not just a select few. How dare you?”

“Eldon would’ve known what we did. He didn’t correct us. And it wasn’t only my call. We took a vote - Isaiah included.” If he thought that mentioning her mentor’s name would appease her, he was wrong.

“A vote? You took a God-damned vote? Is that your excuse for everything?” Quinn could feel the heat of indignation and resentment flushing her cheeks. “You know Daniel, bad things happen when good men think they know what’s best for everyone else. It wasn’t your decision to make! None of you had the right!”

“You can tell me off all you like, Quinn, it’s not going to change anything.” He was so calm in the face of her anger that Quinn realised she would get no apology out of him.

“Just tell me what was in the scrolls,” she spat in disgust.

“Most of what they contained you have already read in the Book. We didn’t omit much...” he trailed off, gazing long and hard at her. “But there was one prophecy. One that was too dangerous to include.” Quinn waited, saying nothing, and, after a moment he continued. “Eldon prophesised the end of the war. He believed that it would fall on the shoulders of one Guardian - an exceptional Guardian - who would bring about the end of the fighting. He also predicted that this Guardian would be a woman.” Hearing that a prophecy had been withheld was a shock, but Quinn couldn’t understand why they hadn’t wanted anyone else to know.

“Why didn’t you tell us this before?”

“Can you imagine if we had?” Daniel shook his head sadly. “You know how desperate we have been to end this war - to keep the wards safe. We would have pinned false hope on every single female Guardian who ever came forward, praying she was the one. Not to mention the Guardians themselves, who would all, no doubt, have wanted to be the woman who saved us. It would have done us no good to have Guardians rushing off to play hero.”

Quinn hated to admit it, but logically, it made sense. “And Isaiah thought that I was this Guardian – this saviour?” She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. She had expected something profound, some secret that would save them all, and instead, she had the delusions of a man who wasn’t even here anymore to explain himself.

“The prophecy referred to a woman,” Daniel reminded her.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Quinn sighed, “I may be a woman, but there is nothing exceptional about me.”

“Like I said, it wasn’t my theory,” Daniel shrugged, “although I do believe you are more important than you give yourself credit for.” Quinn squirmed under his scrutiny, feeling awkward at the rare compliment.

“So Isaiah believed I was this chosen one,” she said quickly, to break the tension. “And you and I agree that I’m not. Is that it?” All this fuss over nothing, she seethed inside her head.

Daniel’s mouth pulled down at the corners, a sign that he was uncertain of his answer, or the response it might invoke.

“When Isaiah first told me of his suspicion, I doubted it was you. I never believed as Isaiah did, although these past few weeks I did start to wonder whether perhaps he had been right, after all. You were acting differently, you were more confident and self-assured, and you were certainly making difficult decisions, most of which were the right call. But then you became the Slayer and I realised Isaiah had been wrong after all.” Daniel regarded her steadily for a moment, as if trying to figure something out. “I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed. I have waited a thousand years for the chosen one to reveal herself. And for a while, I had hope.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Quinn said, sounding anything but. She agreed with Daniel whole-heartedly, but it would have been nice to have his vote of confidence.

“There is something else,” Daniel continued, unmoved by her sarcasm. “The prophecy spoke of a choice. A decision that this Guardian would have to make. One that would either save us or condemn us all.”

“What decision?”

“A simple choice,” Daniel scuffed at the ground again. “A choice between the vampires and us.”

The implication of his words hung between them. It was no secret that Quinn was close to Drake – a vampire – but to imply that she might choose him over her duties was as much of an insult as it was a warning. Quinn felt the anger rise in her chest and she bit out her next words. “I think I proved where my loyalties lie when I fought those monsters who attacked our City.”

Daniel lowered his eyes first. “Is there anything else I should know?” Quinn asked. “Anything else you’ve been keeping from the rest of us?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Daniel replied evenly. “You’re not the one. I suspected as much, but Isaiah was insistent and his dying wish was for me to tell you. Out of respect for him, I have.”

“Then we’re in agreement. It’s not me.”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Good.” Quinn turned to leave but something held her back. She hesitated, knowing that she would probably feel even worse if she asked, but she had to know. “You said that when I became the Slayer you knew that Isaiah had been wrong. Why? What does my being the Slayer have to do with any of this?”

“Oh,” Daniel allowed himself a small smile. “Your blood. It makes it impossible for you to be the chosen one.”

“My blood?”

“Yes. The Slayer’s blood is lethal to vampires. So you see, you couldn’t be her, because the prophecy specifically mentions a blood bond.” Quinn stiffened, her breath catching in her throat as Daniel continued. “The chosen one will be bonded to a vampire.”

Quinn kept her expression neutral, but her mind screamed in denial and acknowledgement of the truth. She had to get away from him. She needed time to process this new information without being scrutinised. No one knew of the bond, other than Kellan and Avery, and she had to make sure it stayed that way.

“It’s not me,” she repeatedly automatically.

Daniel nodded curtly. “Are you going to tell the others?” he asked. “About the prophecy? About us keeping it from them?”

“No.” Quinn shook her head. Why would she? She was no saviour. Eldon had chosen the wrong girl. And why plant a false seed of hope when she would most likely fail them.

Chapter 9

You ready to talk, now? Drake’s voice interrupted Quinn’s thoughts the second she entered the house. She had left Daniel in the woods and she hoped he was suffering with guilt at having kept the truth from them all these years. Somehow, though, she doubted it. Daniel believed, with the utmost conviction, that he had acted in everyone’s best interests and if there was one thing Quinn had learned in her hundred years as a Guardian, it was that Daniel seldom saw his own faults.

With Drake probing in her head, she quickly cleared her mind of her conversation with Daniel, focusing instead on the plan she had come up with to find the missing crystals. She could sense him moving closer as she headed for the kitchen and her head pounded as his own thoughts merged with hers, giving her a splitting headache.

Please don’t come any closer, she thought desperately.

“Too late.” This time, his voice wasn’t in her head and she whirled to find him standing just outside the open kitchen door. “What are you thinking?” he added immediately.

“I’m assuming that’s a rhetorical question?” Quinn tried to make light of the fact that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“That’s not funny.”

“You’re right. It’s not. Are you going to try and talk me out of it?’ she asked, her fingers pressing against her temples.

“No. It’s a good plan; a solid one. It might even work.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment coming from a master strategist such as yourself.” He didn’t laugh and her headache was getting worse by the second.

“Look, you said it yourself, it’s a solid plan, so I can only assume that the only problem you have is that you can’t come with me.”

“You know I can’t bear the thought of being separated from you.”

“I know,” she could sense as much. Every nerve in his body protested against her leaving, regardless of how painful it was to be near one another. “But you can’t come.” She crossed the kitchen, pouring herself a drink of water straight from the faucet.

“Charlotte is dangerous,” Drake persisted. “She almost killed you once already.”

“And you were there to save me,” Quinn hadn’t meant to speak aloud. He had saved her. He had thrown himself in front of Charlotte’s stake to protect her. It was why he had needed her blood – to heal – and how the bond had formed. If it wasn’t for Charlotte, they wouldn’t be in this situation. “I hate her,” Quinn murmured.

“Good,” Drake approved. “You should hate her. It’ll keep you focused. Because if you hesitate, for even a second...”

‘I won’t,” Quinn cut him off abruptly. “The first chance I get I’m sending that bitch straight back to hell.” That finally elicited a small smile. “You know how badly I want you there,” she admitted, “but you also know why you can’t be. I need to be strong, and you... you make me...”

“Weak?” he asked, plucking the word from her mind.

“Yes.”

“You know, as much as this bond is a curse, I can’t deny that it feels good for you to be so honest with me. Finally.”

Quinn thought back to how she had denied her feelings for him before, in a desperate attempt to stay true to the Guardianship. There was no point in doing that now, not when he could read the truth from her thoughts.

“Do you always look on the bright side?” she teased, downing the water in a few gulps. Her head was throbbing painfully and it was becoming more difficult to separate their thoughts, to isolate one from the other. And the more their minds entwined, the more difficult it became to be this close to him. Glancing over her shoulder she saw the grimace on his face and realised he was hurting just as badly.

You know you can’t come with me.

I do, but I don’t have to like it.

“I do want to ask you one favour,” she spoke aloud this time. “I need you to take care of them – the others. You have to make sure that nothing happens to them. They mean everything to me. Leaving them is hard enough, but it’ll give me peace of mind knowing you’re keeping an eye on things.” The muscles in his cheeks jumped as he clenched his jaw, trying to control his emotion. He had suspected as much when she had spoken of leaving the wards. They were too important for her to abandon without a full security detail.

“Of course, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Thank you,” Quinn released a mouthful of air. She hadn’t even realised she was holding her breath. The pain in her head was growing worse.

“You need to go,” she insisted, but instead of complying, he took a step toward her. The pounding accelerated and Quinn winced. “Go,” she insisted, without looking at him.

“Quinn,” he took another step forward but she raised her hand, warding him off, and finally met his gaze. He recoiled at the agony reflected in her eyes, just as her thoughts merged into one blooming singularity. She loved him and the physical pain that she was experiencing was nothing compared to the torture of knowing she would never be able to touch him, to be touched by him. A flush spread across her cheeks as she registered he was hearing her most private thoughts and she lashed out at him.

“Go!” she yelled, a tear tracking its way down her cheek. “Now!”

“If it’s the last thing I ever do, I will find a way to break it,” he growled, sounding more animal than human. “This is not over.”

Quinn swiped angrily at her cheek, wiping away the proof of her pain, but, by the time she looked up again, he had vanished.

An hour later, Quinn watched as the convoy of vehicles lumbered down the drive, leaving only a few smaller vehicles and the glossy red Lamborghini parked outside the garage which Lenora would use later to join them. The horse-boxes rocked violently as the unicorns thrashed around inside them, but they would settle soon, or so Kellan claimed. Liam stood on Quinn’s left, Monique on her right. Liam had done no more than offer a perfunctory goodbye to his fellows, but Quinn had witnessed Monique bidding a tearful farewell to Jonas and her heart ached for the young couple. She wouldn’t have taken Monique along at all if she hadn’t needed her. Her plan was nothing without the dragon, and Monique was the only person capable of controlling him. Still, if anything happened to her, Quinn would never be able to live with herself. She’ll be safe, Quinn thought, trying to convince herself. Her plan ensured that Monique would not physically be anywhere near Charlotte, but that didn’t make her feel any better about taking her along.

When her father and Avery drove past, Quinn sensed Drake’s presence in their car, but she caught only a glimpse of his profile through the passenger window before they had swept past, following the others down the drive.

I’ll see you soon, Quinn promised, but Drake either didn’t hear her or didn’t want to answer.

Staring at the back of Avery and Braddon’s heads, Drake waited until they had travelled a few miles before reaching out with his mind. He was relieved to find he could still hear Quinn’s thoughts and wondered idly how far the bond would reach. His biggest concern was whether he would still be able to keep track of her when she made it to Charlotte’s. He suspected he would, prayed that he would, but he would only be sure when she got further away. At least with the physical distance between them increasing, the pain had subsided. He wasn’t sure whether Quinn was happy or annoyed that he was riding with Braddon and Avery, but she had asked him to keep her people safe and her father and sister were the closest he could get to her. He also suspected that Daniel was loathe to let him travel with any of the wards or humans in their group, no doubt harbouring fears that Drake might not be able to resist the temptation of their blood. It was ironic that, while he couldn’t deny that the blood of the wards smelled sweeter than anything he had ever experienced, he was able to suppress his desire to feed quite easily. Almost too easily.

“Daniel still doesn’t trust me to be alone with them,” he remarked wryly, voicing his thoughts as Braddon steered them around a bend. Watching from the back seat he saw Avery frown at the same moment that Braddon’s mouth twitched, trying to suppress a smile. He may have won Quinn’s father over, but it was clear that the same did not apply to her twin. Drake had also noticed the strained relationship between Quinn and Avery. He had caught snippets of their argument through Quinn’s thoughts and he wondered how long it would be before Avery told everyone the truth about the bond.

“Daniel is merely being cautious,” Braddon replied, not bothering to deny the very obvious travel arrangements. “You shouldn’t take offence.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Although you’re quite safe letting me near the gypsies.”

“Why is that?”

“Have you smelled them?”

Braddon laughed out loud at that. “They’re not so bad since Lenora introduced them to the good life.”

“True. Maybe if I was starving...” Drake joked. Avery threw him a filthy look over her shoulder for making light of his true nature, but Braddon simply shook his head, smile still firmly in place.

In the SUV ahead of them the mood was far more sombre. The gypsies, blissfully unaware that they were the subjects of Drake’s current banter were being driven by Piper. They sat quietly, staring morosely ahead. Jonas was in the front passenger seat which provided more room for his injured arms, while Balthazar, Cara and Rowena sat in the back. Cosima was in the trunk space, where an extra two seats folded out neatly making room for more passengers.

“Are you sure you’re okay back there?” Rowena asked kindly and Cosima nodded. She had become even more introverted since the attack, barely speaking, and she had developed a nervous tic, a spasm in her shoulder that became more pronounced whenever she felt uncomfortable.

Jonas, having taken a full cup of Rowena’s herbal tea before departing, had already fallen asleep and the sound of his soft snores punctuated the silence. Cara bit her lip nervously, casting sideways glances at Rowena every few minutes. Her tears had finally dried up, but her heart ached with Zebulon’s loss and the guilt that it had been her fault. She was also bitterly aware that her actions had led Charlotte to the Guardians’ hiding place and, as a result, the Slayer had died. Her friends might have been killed too, all because she hadn’t had the courage to deny Charlotte.

Eventually, Cara couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she burst out, so suddenly that Piper’s hand jerked on the steering-wheel and the car swerved dangerously to the left. Piper quickly counter-steered, bringing them back into their lane, but she gave Cara an astonished look over her shoulder. “I didn’t want to lead them to you,” Cara explained, blushing furiously. “But I didn’t have a choice.”

“There is always a choice,” Balthazar rebuked from the front passenger seat. Unlike Rowena, he had not forgiven Cara, even though she had paid for her crime with her husband’s life.

“Balthazar,” Rowena reproached.

“It’s true!”

“You abandoned us, Balthazar!” Cara defended, her fiery nature overcoming her remorse.

“As far as I can recall, you left of your own accord.”

“Only because you weren’t honest with us! You knew where the City was and yet you kept it a secret. You lied to all of us and you let that fool, Melchior, lead our people away. If you hadn’t, none of this would have happened.”

“It would have happened regardless,” Piper interrupted quietly from the driver’s seat. “Besides, we threatened Jonas. Balthazar didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” Cara mocked, echoing Balthazar’s own words.

“Enough!” Rowena snapped. “There is no point in laying blame; it’s not going to change anything. We can hypothesise as much as we want but it won’t bring Zebulon back. Cara,” she turned deliberately to the other woman, taking her hand, “you did what you had to do. Nobody is going to hold that against you - nobody,” she emphasised, glancing sternly at Balthazar.

Cara nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. “Maybe we should just go,” she muttered, wiping her cheeks with the back of her sleeve. “We could leave and start a new life, far away from here. We could even try to find the others. In time, we could try to forget.”

Rowena smiled sadly, pushing Cara’s hair out of her eyes. “You are welcome to go, but I can’t. We have been searching our whole lives for these creatures. We protected them before there was ever any real threat to them. I cannot abandon them now when they are at their most vulnerable.” She didn’t add that she doubted their people were alive. Charlotte didn’t strike Rowena as someone who kept her word. She was quite confident that Charlotte had murdered the gypsies the second Cara was out of sight, regardless of what she may have told her. Still, it would do no good to enlighten Cara. She needed to believe that her sacrifice had saved the others. It was all she had to cling to.

Balthazar’s heart swelled with pride at Rowena’s words. This was his woman, his wife, who spoke with such courage and conviction. She would never turn away from their oath, even if it cost her her life. He reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. He didn’t want to fight with Rowena. Their time together was so precious.

“We should stay,” Cosima agreed, surprising them all.

“Let’s just get through this journey,” Rowena letting go of Balthazar’s hand with a small smile of apology before pulling Cara’s head on to her shoulder. “Try and get some sleep, Cara. We can talk more when we’re safe.”

Chapter 10

“So,” Monique clapped her hands together the moment the last car was out of sight, trying to muster up enthusiasm in the wake of Jonas’s departure. “Is everyone ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Liam muttered, shouldering his backpack before stalking across the lawn towards the Orochian.

“It’s going to be fun, you’ll enjoy it,’ Monique exclaimed gleefully, jogging to catch up.

Liam looked slightly nauseated at the thought of climbing up onto the beast’s back, but he said nothing.

“It’s the fastest way for us to get there,” Quinn reminded him. “Charlotte will still be in this general area and we need to get to her house long before she does.”

“Got it,” Liam shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“What if someone sees us?” Monique asked, as she settled herself on the Orochian’s neck.

“They won’t,” Quinn assured her. “We’re flying high. Take us up as far as he can manage. It’s not going to be a very pleasant flight,” she added apologetically, but Liam simply gritted his teeth. Quinn suspected he might feel too ill to speak. She gave him a leg up, indicating that he should sit behind Monique which would give him an extra sense of security, and then she let him help her up. She found herself in the centre of the dragon’s back. There wasn’t much to hold on to, but at least when the Orochian spread his vast wings, her view of the ground was partially obstructed. Shifting closer to Liam, she put her arms around his waist, knowing it was going to get pretty cold as they climbed.

Monique issued a shrill whistle and the Orochian clambered to his feet, spreading his ugly black wings. Quinn wasn’t sure what to expect but she had suspected he would need a running start, given the extra weight he was carrying. To her surprise, the dragon pushed off the ground like a torpedo, shooting straight up at least twenty feet in the air before he beat his wings and started climbing. She heard Liam groan, her own stomach doing flick-flacks with vertigo, but she held on, knowing the bucking bronco motion would cease when they reached altitude.

Quinn had been right about the cold. A few minutes after they started their ascent, the wind picked up and the air turned icy. She pressed even closer against Liam’s back and the usually distant Guardian didn’t complain. It was too cold to worry about personal space. Now that they were moving forward instead of straight up, the ride was smoother, a gentle rocking motion that was far more comfortable than their initial ascent. By the curl of his spine and the glimpse of his tight lips, Quinn could tell that Liam was still decidedly queasy, but the motion didn’t bother her. It was peaceful up here, where all she could hear was the wind rushing past her ears.

Quinn?

She gave a start, and Liam yelled in irritation, thinking for a second that she had lost her grip. He turned his head, his dark hair whipping around his face as he gave her a stern look. Quinn smiled apologetically before thinking back to Drake.

This is not really a good time.

How far away are you?

Pretty far, she thought back, conscious of the miles streaking passed below them.

I can still hear your thoughts. Even communicating this way, Quinn could sense the satisfaction in his words. Do you think you’ll be there soon? Drake knew the details of her plan.

Yes.

Well, be careful.

I will.

There were a few seconds of silence, although Quinn could still sense him, keeping the mind-link open.

It’s nice to talk to you without it hurting, he admitted finally.

Makes for a nice change, she agreed. How is Avery?

Treating me like I may just be the sole carrier of a deadly virus.

Oh good. She must be feeling better.

Ha ha! Very funny.

“Hard left coming up!” Monique yelled over the wind, and Quinn pulled herself back to the present, shutting off the bond. A second later, the Orochian suddenly veered to the left, its body angled almost ninety degrees to the ground. Quinn felt Liam’s shoulder tense with fear.

“Don’t look down!” she cautioned.

‘Wasn’t planning on it!” he yelled back, and she couldn’t help but laugh when she saw that his eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

The rest of the journey passed in much the same way. They were quiet, save for Monique shouting the odd warning. The monotony of the rocking motion might have lulled Quinn to sleep if it wasn’t for the bitter cold which seeped through her clothing and bit at her bones. Every now and then they hit an air pocket and the Orochian was buffeted upward, sending her stomach dropping into the pit of her belly. It felt like an eternity had passed when they finally reached the area of Charlotte’s home, but in truth, they had arrived even sooner than Quinn had expected.

As desperate as she was to get back onto solid ground, Quinn refused to let Monique bring the dragon lower until night had fallen so that there was no chance of any humans seeing them. Instead, they flew lazy circles in the sky, watching the sun sink lower on the horizon until she deemed it safe to land. The wait must have been agony for Liam, who had turned a hideous shade of green, but, to his credit, he didn’t complain.

“Okay,” Quinn finally relented, when the sun had dipped below the skyline and darkness had enveloped them. “Bring him down out of sight of the house,” she cautioned, “we don’t need any of Charlotte’s people spotting us.” Monique did as she was told, guiding the Orochian in a slow descent and setting them down in a cornfield. The dragon’s weight had flattened the plants beneath him, but all around them they stood higher than their heads. It wasn’t going to be the most comfortable place to disembark but at least they were concealed.

Quinn slid off the dragon’s back, taking a few minutes to stabilise her legs which had turned to jelly after being in the air for so long, and she wobbled around for a few minutes, crashing through corn plants. Her thighs were cramping and she could barely feel her nose. Liam looked as stern and unaffected as ever now that he was safely back on the ground, the night disguising all traces of the sickly green tinge.

Monique, whose red hair had been whipped into one massive knot around her head, was stroking the Orochian’s head, murmuring words of encouragement into his ears.

“What a good boy,” she crooned, sliding her hand up and down the scaly skin between his eyes. The dragon snorted, bumping her in affection and almost knocking her to the ground in the process.

“You stay with him while we scope out the house,” Quinn instructed Monique. “Do you think you can keep him down here?”

“He’s tired but he’s probably also starving,” Monique shrugged, in a non-committal way.

“Okay, well if he needs to, get him out of here and let him find something to eat. Nowhere close by,” Quinn cautioned. “We’ll be back in a few hours.” Monique nodded gratefully, easing her body down to the ground and leaning back against the dragon’s chest, as though it was a fluffy pillow.

Quinn and Liam turned and pummelled their way through the corn. It was slow going and they were soon covered in scratches. After only a few minutes they heard a low whine and then a gust of wind blew past them as the Orochian soared skyward once more.

“Well that didn’t take very long,” Liam remarked, as they turned to watch it leave.

“She knows what she’s doing,” Quinn muttered, turning her attention back to the corn plants.

“It’s like this stuff doesn’t want us getting through it,” Liam grumbled, swatting aside a particularly stubborn, leafy stalk.

When they finally broke free of the field, Quinn issued a sigh of relief.

“We’re not going back in there,” she vowed. “We’ll stick to the edge or find somewhere else to hide, but I am not doing that again.”

“You’ve got my vote,” Liam agreed, glaring at the corn as though it was a living, breathing thing.

“Come on,” Quinn grinned, pulling him away. “We need to get closer to the house.”

Finally they reached a spot near enough to Charlotte’s house that they could see the comings and goings of the people within. Taking cover behind a small hedge, Quinn and Liam settled down to watch.

Chapter 11

The weary convoy pulled into the drive of the Lindberg farm just after lunch the following day. They had made good time, taking turns at driving and stopping only twice for gas. The gypsies were faring better than anyone else, which was hardly surprising. Their nomadic existence had equipped them for continuous travel. This journey was probably a walk in the park for them.

The wards were faring less well. Kellan, Velkan and Anaise, the Fae healer who had assisted at Sage’s birth, were dead on their feet, having spent the entire journey keeping the herd calm. They had been forced to stop many times during the course of their trip, as the unicorns threatened to kick out their boxes. Eventually, Kellan had sedated them. Drake had asked why they hadn’t just done that to begin with, a question which caused Avery’s mouth to purse even tighter, but Braddon had explained that magical creatures were not meant to be subjected to man’s medicines. In the end, though, Kellan had had no choice but to risk it.

The unicorns had settled into a trance-like state, refusing to eat, and Braddon feared they may have been pushed too far. Never had he appreciated the safe haven of Summerfeld as he did right now. The City had been a utopia, an Eden-like sanctuary that had catered to every inhabitant perfectly. Outside of it, the wards were simply not coping.

Drake, however, watched as the wolves bounded out of the back of the pick-up they had travelled in. One young male, in particular, seemed full of energy. He promptly lifted one of the she-wolves off the ground and tousled her hair. Drake noticed that Channon, Rafe and the other four members of the pack were coping far better than the unicorns or the Fae. They had rested on and off during the journey, but they were also more resilient, their natural fighting instinct making them tougher than the other wards.

They had parked in the drive behind Austin’s motorcycle and just out of sight of the farmhouse.

“I think you’re up,” Braddon remarked dryly, as Austin approached their sedan. Drake unfurled himself from the car and walked over to meet him.

“Give us a few minutes,” Austin instructed the others. Drake walked beside him and the familiar farmhouse came into view just around the next bend. “It won’t hurt them, right?” Austin asked, keeping his voice low.

“The compulsion? No, not at all. In fact, they’ll feel better than they have in a long time. I’ll take away most of their fears, including the ones we don’t even know about.” Austin nodded, but Drake could sense him bristling. “You don’t like me very much, do you?” Drake asked politely.

“You killed Blair,” Austin pointed out. “Piper told me,” he added, at Drake’s inquisitive look. “But she also said that you were a good guy so I’m undecided.”

“Piper... she’s the sweet one, right?”

“Yeah,” Austin couldn’t conceal a small smile, “that’s her.”

Their conversation was cut short as they reached the porch steps and the screen door swung open. Drake recognised Thomas instantly - the kindly old man with a witty sense of humour who had offered him and Quinn assistance when they had faked breaking down to retrieve Blair’s crystal. The same guilt as before washed over him. He didn’t need Austin to remind him that he had killed this man’s ancestor. Both Thomas and Austin were descended from Blair’s line.

“Austin?” Thomas called, his eyes widening at the sight of his grandson. A second later a plump, grey-haired woman joined him, giving a shriek of delight as she hastened across the distance between them, her old leather sandals shuffling along the floorboards. She seized Austin around the neck and pulled him tightly against her.

“I knew you’d come back,” she sniffed. Austin mumbled an inaudible reply, but Drake was focused only on Thomas, who was staring at him in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” the older man demanded, recognising him from his previous visit with Quinn.

“Granddad,” Austin managed to extricate himself from his grandmother’s clutches. “This is Drake, he’s a friend of mine.”

“No,” Thomas shook his head, “this man’s name is Christian...” He got no further. Quick as a flash, Drake moved, taking Thomas by the shoulders and forcing him to meet his eyes. Murmuring quickly, so softly that even Austin couldn’t make out the words, he compelled the old man to remain calm and then planted a false idea in his head. Thomas’s eyes glazed over as he willingly accepted Drake’s words.

Feeling his grandmother going rigid in his arms, Austin quickly pushed her forward.

“Her name is Mary,” he offered, as Drake turned around, releasing the now dazed Thomas. A few seconds later, both Thomas and Mary trotted happily back inside.

“Thank you,” Austin acknowledged gratefully, but Drake surprised him with his next words.

“They shouldn’t be here. If things go bad, they’re too easy a target. I have money – I think you should let me compel them to go away, on a vacation, until this is over.”

If Austin was surprised by his concern or his generosity, he didn’t show it. “That would probably be best,” he agreed. “Do it. I’ll go and tell the others to go around the back and start settling in.”

An hour later, Daniel watched as the elderly couple set off in a truck that looked to be as old as they were. They were off on a three week, all-expenses-paid vacation to some island off the coast, thanks to Drake, who had managed to contact his travel agent and arrange the getaway in a matter of minutes. Daniel could only imagine how much it had cost him. Mary waved happily from the passenger window and Daniel waved back automatically, wondering what on earth the vampire had convinced them to believe. Not that it mattered. The point was that the couple would now be safely out of harm’s way and Daniel’s group would have the farm to themselves.

“That was very generous of you,” Daniel told Drake, who stood leaning against the porch railing, watching the truck pulling out of the drive.

“I wronged their family once before,” Drake replied, his face impossible to read. “The least I could do was to treat them to something pleasant.”

“I’m sure Austin is very grateful.”

“Actually, I’m sure Austin would still like to wring my neck.”

“He doesn’t know about Blair.” For some reason, Daniel felt the need to assure Drake that he hadn’t divulged the truth about Blair’s death to her family.

“He knows,” Drake replied. “Piper told him.”

Daniel had noticed Piper and Austin drawing closer to one another, but he had never suspected she would let the secret slip. He guessed it was better anyway, that the truth was out. Drake had killed Blair. Regardless of his good deeds since, he couldn’t escape that fact. Daniel was beginning to regard the vampire with a sort of grudging respect, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he liked him.

“I’m going to go and check on the others,” he announced, leaving Drake standing alone on the porch.

Wandering around the back, Daniel sought out Kellan. “How are the herd?” he asked, noticing with a pang that Kellan looked paler than usual. Dark shadows hung below the faery’s pale aquamarine eyes.

“Not good,” Kellan admitted. “The tranquilisers are wearing off. I had hoped that they would be calmer now that we’ve stopped, but Primera is frantic and he’s setting the mares off. Anaise is going to sedate them again.”

“So soon? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“It’s not ideal, but I don’t see that we have much choice. They’re going to hurt themselves if we don’t calm them down.”

The problem with sedating the herd was twofold. Not only could the medical tranquilisers have a long term effect on their health, but if the unicorns were sedated they had little hope of fleeing if the vampires discovered their location. Glancing up at the sky, Daniel prayed that Charlotte had fallen for Quinn’s bait and that she was headed back to her home, hundreds of miles away, rather than searching for the rest of them.

“Once Anaise is finished, I want all of you inside,” Daniel insisted. “Get some rest. It’s been a long two days. I assume Freya and the baby are resting?” Kellan nodded and Daniel noticed that as tired as he was, the mention of his daughter’s name brought a smile to Kellan’s lips.

“Seriously, Kellan. I need you all to get some sleep. You’re no use to me dead on your feet. Velkan and Anaise too. Piper will keep an eye on the herd while you’re gone.” Such was his exhaustion that Kellan complied immediately. “Where’s Channon?” Daniel added.

“She’s around here somewhere. I think she’s still trying to get the younger wolves to calm down. They’ve been giving her a hard time.”

“Because she’s a woman?”

“No, not at all. They have the utmost respect for her. They’re just an enthusiastic bunch. The joys of youth,” Kellan grinned.

Daniel found Channon standing near a post and rail fence talking to Rafe. There was no sign of any other wolves.

“Where are they?” Daniel asked and Channon heaved a sigh.

“Sleeping, finally. Not a moment too soon, either. I was about to borrow a couple of Kellan’s tranquilisers.” Rafe chuckled.

“What do you need us to do?” Channon asked.

“The same as them,” he replied “get some rest. Tristan is secure, I take it?”

“Yes, we tied him up inside. It turns out Sawyer can tie some impressive knots. Tristan won’t break free.”

“Good. We still have a few hours of daylight left. I suggest you find somewhere to lie down. It’s going to be a long night, but for now, we’re safe. We may as well make the most of it.”

Daniel walked around the farm, repeating himself to every member of their party. He found no resistance – everyone was shattered – although Jonas showed no signs of wanting to sleep.

“Have you heard from Monique?” he asked the second Daniel approached. Rowena was cutting away his filthy cast and his right arm had already been expertly bandaged. Balthazar was stretched out in the flatbed of the pick-up nearby and Cosima and Cara were dozing in the front seats.

“Not yet,” Daniel replied. “Quinn won’t contact us unless something happens that we need to know. In this case, no news is good news.” Jonas’s shoulders sagged.

“Come on Jonas,” Rowena crooned, glancing apologetically at Daniel, “you need to lie down.”

Slowly the farm fell silent, until only Braddon, Daniel and Drake remained. Both Drake and Braddon were secretly relieved that Avery had opted to help Piper watch over the herd. The three men stood together on the porch saying nothing for the longest time.

“Quinn should be there by now,” Braddon mused, eventually.

“She’s probably been there a while now,” Daniel agreed. “Do you think her plan will work?”

“Yes,” Drake replied, his voice uncompromising. Daniel suspected the vampire could not accept any other outcome, but, before he could question him any further, Drake moved away, into the yard. A second later, Evangeline strode past, making her way inside.

Chapter 12

Drake had managed to avoid the old Fae woman, slipping away before she reached the porch, but he had done so out of habit rather than a conscious decision. His thoughts were preoccupied with Quinn. Staring into space, he forced himself not to reach out to her, to reassure himself that she was okay. He heard the sound of footsteps approaching but he kept his eyes firmly on the clear blue sky. Only when Avery drew to a halt behind him did he release the breath of air he was holding.

“Is she okay?” He suspected Avery had been waiting to get him alone so that she could ask this very question.

“She’s fine, for now,” he replied, still not turning around. He couldn’t bear to look at her. She bore such a striking resemblance to her sister.

“So the bond works, even from a distance?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” she mused, almost to herself. “At least we’ll know if... if something happens.”

“Nothing is going to happen. She’s going to do what she went there to do and then she is going to come back, safely.” He turned to face her, finally, steeling himself as his eyes found hers - the perfect blend of violet and blue.

“She won’t come back,” Avery scoffed. “If Quinn gets her hands on those crystals she’s heading straight for Summerfeld. We’ll be meeting her there.’

“I didn’t mean it literally,” Drake said. “I know what she’s planning. The point is, she’s going to be fine.” Avery frowned at him, not appreciating him correcting her.

“You haven’t told anyone?” Drake said, changing the subject. He presented it as a statement, but it was undeniably a question.

“No. I haven’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to get her into trouble.”

“How very noble of you.”

Avery cocked her head at his scathing tone, adding, “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

“I’m guessing the feeling is mutual,” he pointed out, but he felt no pleasure in the words and he found himself relenting. “On the contrary, Avery, I care very deeply for you.”

That surprised her, and Drake sighed, knowing he needed to explain. “My mind is directly linked with your sister’s. I feel what she feels, to an extent. She loves you and so I do too. Believe me,” he added, as Avery shifted uncomfortably, “it’s far more awkward for me than it is for you. To love one Guardian is bad enough, but to love them all is... well, let’s just say it’s not in my nature.”

“I don’t believe that,” Avery announced unexpectedly, but she didn’t elaborate and Drake was grateful for it. “And just so you know,” she continued, “you were right. I don’t like you either.” She left him then, no doubt to finally get some sleep.

By the time Drake returned to the porch Braddon and Daniel were gone. He knew better than to think the two would sleep. They were probably walking the perimeter, defending the farm against some non-existent threat. The sun was up – they were safe. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the solitude. Settling down on the rickety old porch swing, a wave of fatigue rolled over him and he closed his eyes, determined to rest for just a minute.

Drake dozed fitfully as the sun sank lower in the sky. Only when Lenora sat down beside him did he jerk fully awake. The night air had turned cool and a few lights were on inside. He could hear the others talking and could smell the acrid scent of onions frying. Rowena must be cooking, because he was pretty sure the Guardian and Fae women wouldn’t have a clue what to do in a typical human kitchen.

“I’m glad you made it,” he smiled sleepily, grateful that Lenora was here. She was the only one who truly accepted and understood him. “You made good time.” She had been limited to travelling at night, but she had still arrived much sooner than he had expected.

“I drove fast,” she replied lightly.

Drake yawned, rubbing at his eyes. “What’s that?” He gestured at the box at her feet.

“It’s a surprise,” she replied mysteriously. “Dylan brought it.”

“The gift for Quinn?”

“That’s the one. I ordered it specially.”

“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what it is?”

“That would ruin the surprise.”

The screen door swung open and Daniel emerged from the house with Austin and Garrett in tow. He inclined his head at Lenora in greeting and then moved out onto the sandy front lawn, his boots kicking up small clouds of dust. Drake and Lenora watched, their curiosity piqued as Daniel surveyed the area before taking up a place in what was roughly the centre of the lawn.

“This will do,” he announced.

Garrett nodded but Austin seemed dissatisfied. “When do we start?” he asked.

“Tomorrow at first light.”

“Why not right now? We’ve all rested,” Garrett asked.

“We don’t have any dummies.” Austin looked confused. “How will we practice staking?”

“We won’t,” Daniel replied. “And we don’t need dummies. The time for routine training is over. We’re in the midst of a war. Our best form of practice is going to be sparring with each other.”

Drake finally cottoned on to what they were talking about and, with the mystery solved, he turned back to Lenora. To his surprise, she was watching the men with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“That’s not strictly true,” she called, before Drake could question her. Rising from the swing, she sashayed toward them and Drake automatically followed. He didn’t like leaving her alone if he could help it. “You have us,” Lenora continued, gesturing first at herself and then at Drake.

“You?” Daniel asked, but Drake had already realised the genius of her suggestion.

“Yes, us,” he agreed, grinning at Lenora. “You want to practice fighting vampires, surely we qualify?”

Daniel sucked in an astonished breath. Drake suspected he was wondering why he hadn’t thought of the idea himself.

“I can only assist at night, obviously,” Lenora added, “so perhaps Garrett’s suggestion of starting now isn’t such a bad idea.”

Daniel nodded in understanding. “Of course. We could run shifts. Night time is when we need to be most on guard, but we could post half the Guardians as sentries while the other half train, and then switch over. We’ll be doing most of our sleeping during the day when the threat is minimal.”

“Perfect,” Lenora’s serious determination struck Drake and he wondered if this was a coping mechanism – a way for her to strike back at Charlotte for what she had done to Isaiah. Lenora seemed determined to do everything in her power to ensure that the Guardians triumphed. Not that he was complaining, but pro-actively helping the Guardians to better kill their own kind was a statement in itself.

“We can start now?” Lenora offered and Daniel grinned.

They trained for two hours solid. The Guardians were rotated every half hour, but the vampires never seemed to tire. The older Guardians were lethal, Drake soon learned, and Daniel, in particular, was a formidable opponent. Avery fought much like Quinn, which was expected, given that they had both had the same mentor, but she lacked Quinn’s finesse. Avery fought mechanically, whereas Quinn was fierce; she fought with her heart as well as her head. Austin was clumsy in his approach and too easy to read, but given how recently he had been branded, Drake thought he was doing okay. He had an annoying habit of reaching for his belt, no doubt looking for a gun that wasn’t there.

By the time Piper burst from the house, every person who had engaged in the training was bleeding or bruised. Drake was sparring with Garrett and Lenora with Braddon when Piper’s cry of dismay halted them in their tracks.

“What is it?” Daniel rushed to meet her as she flew down the steps carrying a small compact tablet in her arms. Piper turned the screen so he could see it and Drake watched as Daniel’s face morphed, reflecting first shock, then fear, mingled with what appeared to be relief. The other Guardians waited while Daniel scanned the screen, his mouth moving as he read the words. He nodded when he was done, and touched Piper’s sleeve in an uncharacteristically soothing gesture.

“It’s okay, Piper, it might be best, for now,” Daniel assured her, before turning to the others. “The dragons have escaped the City,” he announced. He waited for the shocked outburst to quieten down before continuing, and Drake sensed he was keeping a tight grip on his own emotions to avoid a panic. “Obviously this is devastating. We cut ourselves off from mankind millenniums ago for a reason. The humans are dangerous. They fear the unknown and the unexplained. The beasts are not safe out in man’s realm, but neither are they safe within the City. At this time, there is nothing we can do for them. Our first priority is to free the Fae magic. Once we have done that, we can secure the dragons.”

Nobody argued. There would be no point. Drake sensed the helplessness they were feeling. They were on the run, and, for the first time in Guardian history, they were powerless to help the wards who needed them.

Chapter 13

Quinn and Liam watched the house closely, the night air blanketing them as they stayed hidden from sight. They had been observing the house for over twenty-four hours, with only a few hours’ sleep in between shifts and Quinn felt the weariness settling into her bones.

“That’s a lot of vampires,” Liam remarked, as yet another group approached, entering the house through the front door. Last night, groups had arrived throughout the evening and it seemed tonight was no different. Charlotte had called for back-up. A lot of it.

“Good,” Quinn replied, “the more, the better.”

“I estimate at least a hundred,” Liam mused.

“Probably more,” Quinn replied, before slithering back, away from the hedge. “We’ve seen enough. Charlotte will arrive tomorrow night and we’ve got a lot to do before then.”

They made their way back to the cornfield where Monique had fallen asleep, her head resting against the Orochian’s scaly hind leg. They had decided to make camp just a few yards in, flattening a large section so that they could use the vegetation to conceal them while still being comfortable. That didn’t stop Liam moaning every time they came to and from the camp. Even the short path through the corn was a mission. Monique woke as they approached, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Relax,” Quinn soothed. “Go back to sleep. I need you on your A-game tomorrow.”

“How many more?” Monique asked, yawning widely.

“Twenty or so, but more are arriving every hour.”

“Marvellous,” the young girl grinned.

Once again, the three took it in turns to sleep, always leaving one person to keep guard. It was unlikely that they would be discovered, but they couldn’t leave themselves vulnerable when they were so close to achieving their goal.

At dawn, Liam, who had taken the last shift, nudged Quinn awake and she lifted herself slowly to a sitting position, rubbing her stiff neck. Ravenous, she pulled a few granola bars from her pack and placed them in the centre of their small circle, while Liam disappeared into the corn, no doubt to relieve himself. Disturbed by the sudden movement, the Orochian lumbered to his feet, unseating Monique, who slipped sideways, her head landing on a bed of crumpled corn-stalks. Snapping awake, she looked mildly alarmed before registering the sun beating down on them.

“Breakfast,” Quinn said, indicating the granola bars.

“Ugh,” Monique groaned. “After this, I swear I am never eating another one of these again.” Despite her complaining, she snatched up a granola bar and wolfed it down in three bites before swigging back half a bottle of water. Liam returned and the three spent an hour in quiet reflection. It wasn’t long before the Orochian began to show signs of agitation.

“Take him out,” Quinn offered. “Let him eat. It’s going to be a long day.”

When they were gone, Liam opted to go and check on the house. Quinn heard him crashing through the brush and then smiled when a stream of curses reached her. She settled back on the ground, using her pack as a makeshift pillow and closing her eyes. They would set their plan in motion as soon as Monique returned and she wanted to be alone with her thoughts, to run through everything one last time. It didn’t take long. She was confident that they had covered every possible scenario. The plan was watertight. Left with nothing else to do her mind drifted to her family and friends who would be settled on the farm by now. She had not heard from Drake since yesterday and she was desperate for information about the others. Tentatively she reached out with her mind, surprised that he answered her almost immediately.

I’ve been waiting for you.

She could sense the truth in his words. As though he had been waiting, subconsciously, for her to reach out to him. Somehow everything seemed better for it. Knowing he could follow her thoughts, she quickly brought herself back to the matter at hand.

We’re going to do it soon.

Are you worried?

For the others, mostly.

I’m worried about you.

I know.

How are the others holding up? He paused for just a fraction too long and her heart leapt into her throat. Drake?

It’s not good, he admitted eventually. She knew he had wanted to keep it from her, but there was no hiding anything anymore. Not now that she was inside his head. They’ve had to sedate the herd.  Quinn drew in a sharp breath, understanding immediately. The unicorns would be sitting ducks if they were discovered.

We’re safe here, Drake reminded her. Charlotte’s not going to find us. She’ll be too focused on you right now.

This is going to work, she thought ferociously. Drake had already lost her, she was back in full Guardian mode. No doubt sensing that he would snap her out of it, he let her go, with a final, Be careful.

Quinn opened her eyes. To her surprise Monique was back and she and Liam were staring curiously at Quinn. They had obviously been trying to get her attention for the past few minutes while she was in her trance-like state. Embarrassed, Quinn walked away without offering an explanation for her strange behaviour. She allowed herself a few minutes to recover. The bond didn’t hurt from this distance, but it did make her head fell foggy and uncomfortable. Once the worst of it had subsided, she returned and went over the plan one last time.

“When you’re done, I want you out of there,” she reminded Monique. “You do not, under any circumstances, let him land anywhere nearby, not until I give you the signal. You got that?” Monique nodded solemnly. “Take this,” Quinn handed over her cell phone. “Speed dial 2 for Daniel. Either way, you let him know what’s happened.”

“This is going to work,” Monique insisted. “You can call him yourself.” But she kept the phone anyway, slipping it into her jacket pocket. Then, with a knowing grin, she asked, “Who’s on speed dial 1.”

Quinn didn’t bother replying. They all knew who it was. Drake had become her first point of contact if she was in trouble. She fastened her stake-belt more tightly around her waist and sheathed her sword. Liam watched her thoughtfully.

“You sure about this?” he asked. “If the new Guardian really is in there it might kill him.”

“He’ll be in the dungeons,” Quinn replied. “It’s a completely stone structure, deep below the house. Fire burns up. With any luck, he’ll make it. Besides,” she added, trying to justify her blasé attitude, “there’s no way we’re going to be able to fight our way through a hundred vampires to get to him. And if we don’t get him out, he’s as good as dead.” Nodding grimly, Liam squared his shoulders.

“Ready?” Quinn asked.

“Hell yeah!”

“It’s going to be a long wait, but we can’t afford to leave the house once we start. This might be our only chance.”

“Understood.”

Quinn knew she had nothing to worry about, and, once again, she was glad she had chosen Liam to accompany her on this mission. She might not be as close to him as she was to Avery, or Piper, but except for Daniel, he was the most diligent Guardian she knew. He would do everything exactly as he should. Turning to the youngest member of their group, she smiled reassuringly. “You ready?” she asked.

Monique nodded. “Let’s burn them all,” she said, climbing onto the dragon’s back.

Quinn and Liam raced towards Charlotte’s house, hearing the beating wings as the Orochian became airborne. There was no turning back now.

They reached the same hedge as before but this time, they hurdled over it, coming to a stop only a few hundred yards from the house. It was deathly quiet – the formidable army gathered inside was confined to the dark interior – the sun containing them indoors. Quinn’s Slayer instinct heightened, the nausea of so many vampires close by drawing her in, but she stood her ground, waiting, just as they’d planned. The vampires might have seen them by now, but there was not a thing they could do about it. Quinn watched with a grim satisfaction as the Orochian hurtled toward them, aiming straight for the Manor house. She heard the screech and the deadly hiss that signalled his fire breath.

‘Too low!” she yelled, knocking Liam to his knees as the dragon roared, flames erupting from his open mouth, engulfing the left side of the bottom storey of the house in a matter of seconds. “Sorry!” Monique yelled above the crackling of the fire, but her face was split in a triumphant grin.

“She’s totally not sorry,” Liam griped, but Quinn could hear the fondness in his voice. “Show-off!”

Monique guided the dragon in a slow circle and Quinn felt her heart thudding frantically in her chest. This was the worst part of their plan. They would have to wait for the Orochian to recharge. The screaming from inside the house was proof that some vampires had already been affected, but there were a lot of them inside. A minute later, the hissing roar sounded again and the flames engulfed the entire right wing at the bottom of the house. Quinn and Liam waited, prepared to fight any vampire that emerged, but their defence was unnecessary. The vampires would rather face the fire than emerge into the sunlight. Either way, they were dead. The screaming escalated, deathly wails of the dying, but still, no-one ventured outside. Quinn hoped that they would head up in the chaos, to the top storey, rather than down to the dungeons.

Over and over, Monique lined the Orochian up, slowly decimating the entire house, working her way up to the top storey. Only when all that remained was a towering inferno, did Quinn lift her right hand and draw it in a slow circle above her head, signalling Monique to go. The screaming had stopped, drowned by the roar of the fire, which moved, with a life of its own, through Charlotte’s home.

“That was easier than I expected,” Liam remarked, after over half an hour of silence. The flames were already diminishing as the fire ran out of combustible material to burn and parts of the house had collapsed, smothering the fire beneath.

The sun had not yet reached its zenith, and Quinn finally relaxed, settling down to watch with a morbid satisfaction. Charlotte had returned to this house after she was turned. Whether or not she knew it, the house meant something to her, along with all the possessions it held, which were now nothing more than charred ruins. It gave Quinn an immense amount of pleasure to watch it all burn. Charlotte had taken so much from her – Avery, Isaiah, even Drake for a time, and now she was finally getting her revenge. Her fury, far from abating, was building, a slow fire inside of her that, unlike the one she watched, was burning brighter with each passing second.

No fire-fighters came to the rescue. Charlotte had no close neighbours to witness this catastrophe and, even if she had, she had no doubt compelled them all to stay away from her, to ignore the house as though it wasn’t even there. That way, no one would ever come along to question her about any strange animal attacks in the area. Nothing disturbed the silent afternoon, save for the hissing and popping sounds that came from the still smouldering house.

As the last rays of the sun faded, Quinn got to her feet. They hadn’t seen Monique for hours. She had heeded Quinn’s instructions and fled after her job was done. The house had burnt almost to the ground and nothing remained but a smoking, charred mess.

“We should hide,” Quinn murmured and Liam followed her back to the hedge they had been using as cover for the past two nights. Neither spoke another word, watching and waiting for what they knew would be coming.

Chapter 14

Charlotte sat in the back seat of the luxury car, staring out of the window, watching the stars pass by. They were almost home and, as always, she felt a sense of contentment that she would soon be back where she belonged. She would find a way to undermine Aleksei, but, for now, she had a different score to settle. She would deal with Quinn if she dared to show her face. Charlotte hoped the feckless Guardian would keep her word and arrive as promised. She wanted nothing more than to look into her eyes as she took her last breath. She would kill Quinn personally, but she had called for back-up in case the Guardian brought her own reinforcements. She lowered her window slightly, breathing in the familiar smells that signalled the end of their long journey but something was off. Beneath the scent of dust and lavender, something acrid surfaced - the musky stench of a dying campfire, revoltingly magnified, carried to her on the breeze.

“Miss Charlotte!” her driver’s astonished gasp drew her attention and Charlotte looked forward to see what he wanted as they swept up the long drive. The sight that greeted her through the glass windshield turned the blood in her veins to ice. Staring at the smoking remains of what had been her home for hundreds of years, Charlotte felt a wave of hatred wash over her and a scream erupted from deep in her chest, echoing on and on in the quiet night.

“Looks like we got her attention,” Quinn remarked wryly as she heard Charlotte’s wail. She watched as four cars pulled up behind the first and passengers emerged from each.

“I count eighteen,” Liam said, performing a quick scan.

“There might be a few more still in the house,” Quinn reminded. Her nausea hadn’t settled during the course of the afternoon, although it had certainly lessened, which meant that at least one vampire still remained inside. It would seem that at least some of the occupants might have taken shelter in the dungeon below during the fire after all. Pulling out her sword, she handed it over to Liam.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“Absolutely. She doesn’t know who replaced Isaiah. Just try to make it look like you know what you’re doing.”

“No chopping my own head off, then?” he jested, eyeing the lethal blade nervously.

“Something like that. Oh look, we’re down to seventeen!”

Charlotte, in her blind rage, had grabbed the driver of her car and proceeded to tear into him, taking her frustration out on one of her own. It seemed to be a common vampire coping mechanism and Quinn was reminded again of what set them apart. The Guardians and their allies pulled together in times of crisis, whereas the vampires were volatile and just as likely to turn on their own as on their enemies. Even Drake had displayed a slight tendency to do the same when he had turned on Quinn for that brief period during which he had realigned himself with Charlotte. When Charlotte was done, the driver’s headless corpse lay at her feet. Before his body had even disintegrated, she kicked it aside, rounding on the others. They seemed to be in a state of shock, staring at her in fear and confusion.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Charlotte roared, spittle flying from her lips. “Get inside!”

Quinn allowed herself a small satisfied smile. Charlotte wouldn’t give a damn about survivors. The only reason she would want to get inside the house was if something valuable remained. It seemed her gamble had paid off.

“She’s going after the crystals,” Liam whispered, echoing Quinn’s thoughts.

“Wait,” Quinn placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Let them clear the path for us.”

It took only a few minutes for the vampires to shove aside the rubble and ruin, clearing the way for Charlotte to reach the entrance to the dungeon. The wooden door had been burned away, but the stone steps were still visible.

“Okay,” Quinn nodded at Liam and they both got to their feet. “Definitely time to go.”

Charlotte had taken only two steps down the dungeon stairwell when she heard a roar behind her. Turning, she watched in disbelief as a Guardian swung his heavy silver sword in an arc, beheading one of her men. For a second she believed that the Slayer had somehow survived her attack, but, as he turned on his next victim she caught sight of his face and realised that this was not the same man she had run through with his own sword. This Guardian had dark hair and his face was both older and somehow younger than the Slayer she had killed. Her surprise dulled her instincts and two more men had fallen before she gathered her thoughts. She stepped out of the dungeon stairwell, prepared to take his life, as she had his predecessor’s. It was then that she spotted Quinn, fighting her own battle, just behind him. Her stakes flashed faster than Charlotte believed possible, taking down two vampires at once and Charlotte suddenly realised that her numbers were already drastically reduced.

The vampire nearest to her lunged toward the Slayer, his fangs bared, but Charlotte jerked him back, her sharp nails gouging deep into his shoulder.

“Don’t bite him, you idiot!” she roared, and the vampire’s eyes widened as he recalled the legend. “Nobody bite him!” Charlotte shrieked, warning her men. “The Slayer’s blood will kill you instantly!”

The vampires surrounding Liam hesitated, more cautious, but Charlotte shoved those nearest her forward.

“Cowards! Get them! Take them alive, if you can!” she ordered, although she had no intention of following her own instructions. Aleksei wanted the Guardians alive but she would not allow Quinn to live. She would kill the bitch herself and claim it was self-defence. Enough vampires had died tonight that Aleksei would not question her. Deliberately avoiding the group around the Slayer, Charlotte moved toward Quinn.

Quinn saw Charlotte coming but she forced herself to focus on the immediate threat. She staked a vampire so hard that she couldn’t withdraw her stake, but, in the second it took for his body to fall, she withdrew another from her belt. The ornate inscriptions under her fingers comforted her and she gripped the stake more tightly, ducking to avoid an almighty swipe from her next opponent. Using his momentum against him, Quinn shoved him hard, sending him sprawling into the debris littering the floor.

“Nice digs,” she taunted Charlotte, who was now only a few paces away, but her eyes never left the male vampire who had stepped before her. “I really like what you’ve done with the place.” Distracted, the vampire turned to see who she was speaking to and Quinn jabbed viciously forward with her left hand, her stake grazing his side. His yelp of pain couldn’t mask Charlotte’s snarl of fury and Quinn prepared herself for the violent attack that was imminent. She had riled Charlotte and she took an enormous amount of pleasure in that fact. As Charlotte darted forward Quinn whirled to face her, striking out behind her as she did, her stake slipping between her arm and her side to impale the injured vampire’s stomach. He was hurt, but not fatally so and he seized her by the shoulders. Charlotte, realising Quinn might die by another’s hand, gave a roar of warning but it was too late. She locked eyes with Quinn as the vampire plunged his fangs into Quinn’s neck.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Quinn felt the searing heat of the bite, and Charlotte froze, watching in abject horror as the vampire behind Quinn lifted his head, his face a mask of shock. Grey lines spread from his mouth, expanding outwards and his skin started to shrivel. As he turned grey, the ash already dispersing in the light breeze, Quinn saw understanding dawning on Charlotte’s face, along with fury that she had been played for a fool. She had been taken in by their ploy to ensure that none of her men would bite Liam and no one would know that Quinn was, in fact, the Slayer. Quinn could only imagine how irate Charlotte must be that the Guardian she hated most was now the most powerful of them all.

“You!” Charlotte hissed, fear and fury blending into the shocked expression of outrage on her face.

“Yes,” Quinn smiled, stepping forward. “Me.”

Charlotte turned to yell instructions, no doubt to tell her men to rip Liam to pieces, but while she had been distracted Liam had finished off the last vampire standing. Their refusal to bite him had given him the ultimate advantage. Quinn’s ploy had worked like a charm. Now, only Charlotte remained, but they could hear footsteps coming from the dungeon steps.

“Deal with them,” Quinn instructed and Liam turned to face the oncoming threat, blocking the stairs so that they couldn’t surround him. He would fight only one opponent at a time and his higher vantage point made it easier to pick them off.

Quinn faced off with Charlotte and the two circled each other, each waiting for an opportunity to make her move.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Charlotte sneered, her hands out in front of her. “Watching you die.”

“Do you always talk so much?” Quinn countered, holding her stakes at the ready. The wreckage made it difficult to manoeuvre, but she kept a firm footing, never faltering. She was surprisingly calm and it was Charlotte who made the first move, her thirst for vengeance overwhelming her common sense. Leaping forward, she all but flew toward Quinn, her feet never touching the ground despite the vast space between them. Quinn braced herself, lifting both stakes in a cross above her head as Charlotte landed heavily on top of her. The force of the impact knocked them both to the ground, Quinn’s stakes clattering as they spun away from her. She would never find them in the debris so she reached for her belt. As she did, Charlotte ripped it from her waist, and hurled it through the air. It landed with a soft thud on the grass twenty yards away.

Quinn had no time to worry about the loss of her weapons. She shoved Charlotte off her and both women got to their feet. Each was at a disadvantage. Quinn had lost her stakes, but Charlotte could not bite her. Quinn was vaguely aware of the swishing sound the sword made as Liam continued to deal with the vampires emerging from the basement and it comforted her to know he was still fighting. Bracing herself, she faced Charlotte again. This time, Charlotte didn’t waste a moment. Hurling herself at Quinn, she body-barged her, shoving her a few yards backward before the small of Quinn’s back hit a section of wall that hadn’t collapsed in the fire. The abrupt stop jolted Quinn and her teeth snapped together painfully. Reaching up, she grabbed hold of Charlotte’s face, her thumb and forefinger gouging ruthlessly into the vampire’s skin, the arch of her hand between Charlotte’s lips. Quinn could sense Charlotte resisting the urge to bite down on her soft flesh, knowing it would be the last thing she ever did. As the pain in her face became too great, Charlotte stepped back, giving Quinn the breathing room she needed. She swung her left arm up and smashed her closed fist against Charlotte’s jaw, earning herself the pleasurable sound of bones crunching. Sadly, a few of her own bones broke in the process, and a shooting pain flashed through her hand and up her arm.

Charlotte retaliated viciously, punching Quinn back, so hard that her neck snapped violently to the right, and then, before she could recover, Charlotte kicked her hard in the abdomen, doubling her over with pain. Quinn licked her bottom lip, tasting the blood there, and an idea came to her. A crazy, stupid idea; but she was out of options. A quick survey of the ground around them and she spotted what she was searching for. A pile of wood, broken and fragmented, lay near the far end of the house where the fire had burnt less fiercely. She wasn’t sure she could make it, but there was only one way to find out.

Quinn broke into a sprint, dodging Charlotte’s outstretched arms and hurtling toward her target. She leapt over rubble and the charred remains of Charlotte’s furniture, listening intently. Charlotte moved like a ghost and there was no way to tell how close behind she was. Quinn daren’t turn around and find out because that slight pause would cost her dearly. Finally, when she was just a few feet away from her destination, Quinn heard the audible snap of a floorboard behind her and she turned just in time to find Charlotte almost upon her. Quinn didn’t try to prevent the impact. Instead, she let Charlotte collide with her, the momentum launching them both into the air. In the moments while they were airborne, Quinn closed her eyes, bracing herself for what was to come. Time seemed to stand still as her body fell toward the ground. When she finally landed, heavily, on her back, Charlotte’s weight crashed down on top of her. Stifling a scream of pain that rose in her throat, Quinn bit down on her own tongue, while Charlotte’s eyes widened in delight at the sight below her. An ugly splinter of wood protruded from Quinn’s abdomen, scarlet with her blood. Quinn could feel at least three others, piercing her arms and legs. She had purposely impaled herself. It was tantamount to suicide. For the briefest of seconds, Quinn watched as Charlotte basked in the glory that it had ended so easily. Then, the vampire raised her hand to land the final, lethal blow. Only when she saw Quinn’s lips curve up into a sadistic smile, did she realise her mistake. Scrabbling for her shirt, she lifted it, gazing in horror at the small, circular hole just above her own navel. The wound was tiny and would have been insignificant, if it weren’t for the fact that the pointed splinter of wood was laced with Quinn’s blood. The blood of the Slayer.

“You wanted my blood,” Quinn murmured weakly, “you got it.” She watched as Charlotte’s body began to grey, the vampire’s eyes flicking up to meet hers as her decomposing body slumped sideways. The sound of the sword, still swishing through the air, seemed magnified, a glorious sound that Quinn relished. Liam would win, she thought proudly. Liam would survive. She had chosen well. A moment later Charlotte was gone and Quinn closed her eyes, giving way to the pain with nothing but the pile of ash beside her to witness it.

Chapter 15

Kellan finished feeding the baby Chumana dragons, which were growing by the day, and then hastened inside to find Freya, just as the sun was setting. He would never resent the fact that caring for the wards kept him from devoting all his time to her and Sage, but the few precious moments he snatched with his daughter were more important now than ever. Passing Drake and Braddon, sitting in companionable silence on the porch, he nodded a quick greeting before pressing on. The sight of Rowena inside, however, stopped him in his tracks. She paced the small space between the kitchen and the living room, her hands constantly moving, as though she couldn’t be still for even a second. Kellan’s kind-hearted nature could not allow him to leave someone so obviously in distress.

“Rowena?” he spoke softly, trying not to startle her, but the gypsy woman jumped regardless. “Are you okay?”

“I’m... fine,” she finished lamely.

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m worried about Jonas,” she admitted, without any further prompting.

“I thought he was healing?” Even Kellan had been amazed at the healing power of Rowena’s potions. Jonas’s arms had been crushed, but already he had regained mobility.

“He is,” Rowena said. “It’s not that. Physically, he’s doing well, but it’s his emotional state of mind that I’m worried about. He’s beside himself. We haven’t heard from the others and Monique is with them...”

“Ah.” Kellan, like everyone else, was well aware of the budding relationship between the youngsters. Rowena’s concern was born of maternal affection, something Kellan understood only too well. “Where is he now?”

“He’s upstairs,” she replied, glancing up at the ceiling, “I’ve tried talking to him, but he just gets angry at me.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Kellan offered, accepting with a heavy heart that his daughter would have to wait just a few more minutes.

“No,” a voice called from behind him, and Lenora stepped into the room, “let me. You need to go and see Freya,” she added pointedly. “Besides, I think I can help.”

Kellan looked to Rowena and she nodded in agreement. As Kellan left them, however, Lenora turned toward the front door.

“Jonas is upstairs,” Rowena pointed out.

“I know. I just need to speak to Drake first.” If Rowena found this strange, she didn’t say so, and Lenora emerged onto the porch. “God it’s good to be outside,” she announced, breathing in the cool night air. “The house smells like old people.”

“Technically the Lindbergs are a few hundred years younger than you are,” Drake pointed out.

“Yes, but I don’t smell like humbugs, talcum powder and musty mothballs,” Lenora boasted. “Braddon, darling,” she gave him her most charming smile, which was only slightly tempered by the full extension of her fangs. “Would you mind if I had a quick word with Drake? Alone?” she added, completely unnecessarily.
“Sure,” the Guardian replied, getting to his feet. “I need to go and check in with the others anyway.” Most of the other Guardians were now monitoring the perimeter that Daniel had mapped out, making sure that the entire farm was protected. They were a bit battered and bruised from their intense training with the vampires, but no one was complaining – the skills they were learning were invaluable.

“What are you up to?” Drake murmured when he was certain that Braddon was gone.

“How are they?” Lenora asked immediately and Drake knew she was referring to Quinn and the others.

“I have no idea. The last time I spoke to her was a few hours ago. I’m too scared to check on her in case I...”

“In case you interrupt at a bad time and get her killed?” Lenora pointed out dryly.

“That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. Look, I’ll come and sit with you while you wait, but I need to do something first. You’re not the only one who is waiting to hear if someone you love has made it. I need to reassure Jonas. The kid’s freaking out and giving Rowena grey hairs. It doesn’t really do much for her – clashes with her colouring. She’s more of a dark autumn.”

Drake didn’t appreciate her sarcasm. “You can’t reassure Jonas!” Drake snapped, in a rare foul-temper. “No-one can know about the bond.”

“I know that,” Lenora muttered. “But I can compel him to calm down. I’d just feel better about it if I wasn’t absolutely lying to him in the process.”

“Grown a conscience, have we?” Drake relaxed as he understood her plan.

“Look who’s talking.”

“Last I checked, they were all fine,” Drake admitted. “Monique isn’t actually going to be involved in the fighting, so I’d say you’re pretty safe to tell him she’ll be okay.”

Noticing the small frown on his face as he finished, Lenora took his hand. “I wish you could be as sure about her.” He said nothing, but he squeezed her hand more tightly. “I’ll be back soon,” she promised, getting to her feet.

To Lenora’s surprise, Jonas wasn’t upstairs where Rowena believed him to be. Instead, she found him in the barn with the baby Chumana dragons. He sat slumped against the wall, tossing pieces of raw meat to the hatchlings, which were clicking and snorting as they scrabbled around him, wrestling with one another for the tasty morsels.

Jonas glanced up as Lenora entered, looking slightly apprehensive, but he relaxed when he realised it wasn’t Rowena, or his father, in another attempt to try and talk him out of his vile mood.

“Didn’t Kellan just feed them?” Lenora asked.

“Yeah. He left a few minutes ago. I waited until he was gone to come in.” He tossed another piece of meat in the air and then smiled as Lucky, Monique’s favourite pet, nipped one of the others to secure the treat for himself.

Lenora didn’t ask why he was feeding them again if Kellan had just done so. She knew why he was here. It was for the same reason she had stayed with the Guardians after Isaiah had died. The dragons were the closest he could get to Monique in her absence. He must be desperate, judging by the blister on his right hand and the scorch marks lining the bottom of his frayed jeans. A burning smell lingered in the air and Lenora wrinkled her nose.

“There are easier ways to keep your mind off things,” Lenora remarked. “Probably less painful too. The unicorns are sedated – why don’t you go and pet them instead?” As she spoke, Lucky ran past them, hissing at Jonas and setting his right sneaker alight. Jonas stamped it out and tossed over another piece of meat.

“He misses her,” he explained, as though justifying the beast’s behaviour.

“He’s not the only one, apparently.”

Sensing an ally, Jonas voiced his frustrations. “I can’t believe Quinn took Monique with her. Of all the Guardians at her disposal – why Monique? She could have taken anyone; her father, Daniel, even Drake... it’s not like he wouldn’t go willingly. So why Monique?”

Lenora understood his frustrations. At face value, Monique was the least obvious choice, but Quinn had explained it to them.

“You know she’s the only one who can control the dragon,” Lenora reminded gently. “Quinn would never willingly put Monique’s life in danger. Besides,” she added, as Jonas emitted a snort of derision, “I have it on good authority that Monique is fine.” That got his attention. Dropping the bucket of meat, oblivious to the horde of baby dragons as they swarmed over it, he twisted to face her.

“How do you know that?”

“I just do,” Lenora replied simply. Now that she had his full attention, she lowered her voice, maintaining eye contact. She put the full force of her compulsion behind her words. “Monique is going to be fine. She’s going to come back. You are going to see her again and you are going to stop worrying about her until you do.”

Jonas’s eyes glazed over while she spoke and when she was done, the wild, terrified look had faded. Satisfied, Lenora turned toward the door. “I’ll see you later Jonas.”

“I think I’ll head inside and check on the others,” he said, getting to his feet and following her back to the main house.

Lenora took her place on the porch swing beside Drake once more and they watched as Jonas walked past, looking as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Job well done,” he murmured.

“I wish it was as easy to set your mind at ease.”

Drake was saved from replying by Braddon’s return. Braddon said nothing, simply leaning against the peeling wooden balustrade surrounding the porch, his eyes fixed on the floor at his feet. He was close enough that Drake could hear the beating of his heart, faster than usual as his fear for Quinn’s safety grew with each passing hour. Drake was desperate to use his mind link to check in with Quinn, but Lenora had been right. He was too scared that if he invaded her mind in the heat of a battle, it could prove fatal for her. Retreating to his own private thoughts once more he waited, for something, anything that would give him the answers he craved.

Hours past, but nobody moved or spoke. A few people came by, making polite conversation, but they left shortly, realising that Drake and Braddon wanted to be alone. Lenora gripped Drake’s hand firmly in her own, offering silent support. Braddon seemed rooted to the spot, still staring at something no one else could see. Twice, Avery stepped outside, giving Drake a discreet but pointedly questioning look, but both times he simply shook his head. He had no news to offer her, and, not wanting to alert the others to the bond, she retreated back inside as quickly as she had come.

And then, after hours of waiting, a surge of pain jolted through him. He knew, instantly, that something had gone terribly wrong and his body arched in agony. Quinn was wounded. His mind filled with the echoes of her pain. He had deliberately stayed out of her head, for fear of distracting her at a crucial moment, but now he opened himself up to her completely, praying that he was wrong.

“What is it?” Braddon demanded, sensing the change in Drake. The vampire’s expression was terrifying and his eyes were vacant. He didn’t answer Braddon’s question, shaking his head instead from side to side in a gesture of helpless denial.

“Not now, Braddon,” Lenora warned, letting go of Drake’s hand and stepping between him and the Guardian. “Let him focus.”

“Focus on what?”

Drake barely heard their words as his mind took him far from the gentle calm of the porch, traversing miles in a matter of seconds, to a place he wished to God he had never let Quinn go.

Chapter 16

Quinn was in a dark room. No windows, no doors, nothing that let in even the tiniest slither of light. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, but they didn’t. She couldn’t see a thing. It was black; pure, solid black. She didn’t like it here and she tried to move, to feel her way around, but it was like walking through wet cement. She had the distinct feeling she wasn’t getting anywhere. It was quiet, too - eerily quiet. Without warning, a pain so terrible she thought she might die struck her in the gut and in the same instant a shaft of light penetrated the darkness. Someone was silhouetted against the pitiful glow, but then the light was gone. The blackness returned and the pain vanished as quickly as it had come.

When next she became aware, Quinn wasn’t sure how much time had passed. She could hear Drake calling her name, a desolate, desperate chant that echoed over and over in the dark recesses of her mind. She wanted nothing more than to let him know she could hear him but she couldn’t answer. She couldn’t summon the strength to respond, even to the one person in the world she so badly needed.

Quinn! Quinn!

The light was back, the pain along with it and Quinn groaned, trying to shut it out. Light equalled pain. As much as she hated the darkness, at least it was better than the agony.

Quinn! Drake’s voice was ceaseless, and every time she heard it, the light returned. She wanted to tell him to stop, to leave her alone, but she couldn’t.

“Quinn! Quinn!”

The words were becoming louder and clearer, but it was no longer Drake’s voice. Quinn’s eyes fluttered again and she saw Liam crouched over her, his head silhouetted by the pale moonlight. It was Liam who was yelling her name, his hands pressed against her stomach. A scream erupted from Quinn’s chest as the darkness faded completely and the full extent of the pain hit her.

“Hang on!” Liam yelled. “Just hang on, Quinn!” She wished she could go back to the dark room, but her body clung to consciousness. Her survival instinct fought to protect her, knowing that if she passed out again she might never wake up. Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings. She was still lying in the wreckage of Charlotte’s house. When she turned her head to the side, she saw the pile of ash that had been Charlotte. It was too close to her and she tried to wriggle away from it, but the pain speared through her at the slight movement.

“Stay still!” Liam ordered. “For Eldon’s sake, Quinn, don’t move!” She remembered then, what had happened. She had impaled herself to kill Charlotte. Every movement would twist the splinters of wood that had run her through, causing more internal damage. Suddenly afraid, Quinn tried to keep as still as possible. The dark room which had been so tempting only seconds ago had taken on a new meaning, and the thought of going back there terrified her.

Drake, she thought wildly. Drake had pulled her back. She tried to reach out to him, but the pain seemed to be blocking the bond; that or she was too precariously close to death and her mind was shutting down. No, she thought to herself, she was not going to die here, not in this Godforsaken place. And certainly not right beside the ashy remains of that bitch! Instead, she tried to focus on her surroundings, to distract herself.

Quinn bit down another cry of pain. Somewhere in the distance she heard the mighty beating of the Orochian’s wings.

“She shouldn’t be here,” she mumbled, fearing for Monique’s safety. Liam quieted her fears.

“They’re all dead,” he told her. “There are no vampires left and dawn is on its way.” He leaned to the right. Quinn felt a wave of relief wash over her but she had no time to enjoy it. She gave a shriek of pain as Liam’s face returned, swimming above her.

“I’m sorry!” he apologised, holding up a vicious looking spike of wood, one that he had just pulled from her arm. She could hear the pounding of footsteps toward them, no doubt Monique who must finally have landed, but she knew she couldn’t hold out a second longer. In her mind, Quinn called to Drake, pleading with him to come, but she heard nothing back and then the blackness descended upon her once more.

Back at the farm Drake’s inner turmoil was spiralling out of control. The longer Quinn remained silent the more frantic he became and, when Lenora placed a reassuring arm on his shoulder, he lashed out at her, sending her reeling backward into Braddon. Braddon stepped forward, prepared to retaliate, but before he could lay a hand on Drake a yell from the yard distracted him.

“They did it!” Daniel yelled again, racing toward the house. He had his phone in his hand and a triumphant look blazed across his face. Using the distraction to her advantage, Lenora, who wasn’t hurt, darted forward and crouched before Drake.

“Don’t blow it,” she murmured, squeezing his hand and Drake snapped out of his trance. Getting to his feet, he pulled her toward him, mortified that he had struck her. “I’m sorry,” he apologised. Braddon’s eyes met Drake’s over Lenora’s shoulder. There was a thoughtful expression on his face and Drake knew it was only a matter of time before he put it all together.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lenora replied, stepping away from him. “It was hardly your fault.” She brushed her lips across his cheek. “Be strong. Find me when you know more.” With that, she slipped inside the house. Drake hadn’t even noticed that dawn was approaching, the dark sky slightly lighter with the imminent rising of the sun on a brand new day. He had felt Quinn’s mind respond to him, for only a second, before the link had gone dark once more. With no way to get information from the source, he turned expectantly to Daniel, who had skidded to a halt at the bottom of the porch steps.

“Monique just called,” Daniel explained, trying to catch his breath. “They did it. Quinn did it,” he added, nodding respectfully at Braddon. “Charlotte is dead.”

Drake reeled, a myriad emotions washing over him. A surge of fierce pride that Quinn had defeated such a mighty opponent, a fleeting pang of regret that he couldn’t have been there when it happened, an infinitesimal pain that the woman he had once loved had left this world, but above all, an overwhelming sense of relief that Charlotte was no longer a threat. She could never use him again, never hurt another innocent soul.

“And Quinn?” Braddon and Drake both spoke at once and Daniel’s face fell.

“She’s hurt,” he admitted. “Badly hurt. Liam and Monique are doing what they can.”

Drake turned away, running his hands through his hair. Hurt, not dead. All the commotion had attracted the others and people were spilling out of the house to hear what had happened, but Drake barely noticed. He reached out again and again, but Quinn didn’t reply. He wanted nothing more than to leave, to run, as fast as he could to where she was, but it would be pointless. It would take days to reach her. He was better off here, with the others, with her family and friends, with the people who would know her fate before he would.

The sun had only just broken the horizon but sweat streamed down Liam’s face as he worked on Quinn’s body. Don’t you die on me, Quinn, he thought over and over again, although with the extent of her injuries he didn’t know if she could survive. Don’t you dare die on me now!

“Keep that phone handy,” he told Monique, who was crouched beside him. He removed another splinter, and another, his concentration never slipping.

“She’s going to die, isn’t she?” Monique’s voice choked on the words as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I don’t know,” Liam admitted, tossing aside another shard of wood he had pulled from Quinn’s thigh. Only one remained, but it was the most concerning. The spike that protruded from Quinn’s abdomen was thinner than a stake, but it had run her through and Liam had no way of knowing if it had hit any vital organs. Even in the stress of his current situation, Liam had to admire her nerve. What she had done had taken a whole lot of guts. Quinn must have known she might not survive her injuries but she had sacrificed herself to take Charlotte out. In the back of his mind Liam couldn’t help but think that Isaiah would be smiling down on her right now.

The smaller wounds had started to knit together, but not as quickly as he had hoped and trickles of blood still dribbled from them. Even a normal Guardian would have healed by now, but Liam suspected the main splinter was causing havoc inside her and that all of her healing abilities were being directed to that area. It was probably why she was still alive, but the longer he waited, the more blood she lost. Quinn’s skin was deathly pale, her heart beating feebly under his hands as he worked.

Grabbing the bottom of Quinn’s black shirt, he ripped it clean in half, right up to her breastbone.

“Oh my God!” Monique clapped both hands over her mouth as the wound was properly exposed. Just then, Quinn gave a gurgling cough and a fine spray of blood flew from her mouth.

“Get Daniel back on the phone!” Liam yelled. It came out far more harshly than he intended, but he couldn’t allow Monique to fall apart. “Ask him just how powerful the Slayer’s healing ability is. Once I pull this out it’s going to bleed like hell.”

Then he gave up on his inner pleading and instead dropped his face low, so that his nose was almost touching Quinn’s. “You’re not dying on my watch,” he growled. “Do you hear me, Quinn. You don’t get to die today!”

Monique punched the redial button with a shaking hand that was wet with Quinn’s blood.

“She’s dying,” she whimpered, when Daniel answered on the first ring. “You have to get here...” She trailed off as Quinn gave another death rattle, more blood trickling from her mouth. Liam snatched the phone away, forcing himself to remain calm.

“There’s a splinter of wood impaled in Quinn’s stomach,” he explained curtly. “It went in through her back and came out through her stomach. She’s lying on her back. I’ve checked underneath her and it’s free of debris. I can pull it out cleanly. There’s not much blood around the wound but, if I pull it out...” he let the question hang, waiting for Daniel to advise him.

Chapter 17

Daniel quickly relayed the message. He automatically looked to the Fae for answers, but it was the gypsy, Rowena, who stepped forward.

“Let me speak to him,” she offered tentatively. Daniel nodded without hesitation, but he hit the speaker button before handing the phone over so that they could all hear what was said. Everyone held their breath, listening intently. Drake had moved away, distancing himself from the crowd, terrified that if this ended badly he would lose control, but he could hear every word perfectly even from a distance.

“Liam,” Rowena murmured, her dark eyes intent. “The spike is acting as a plug, but you’re right, when you pull it out it’s going to hurt and it’s going to bleed - a lot. Does she have any other injuries?”

“A few. She landed on a pile of splintered wood. I pulled out a whole bunch already.”

“Are they bleeding?”

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Okay, first I want you to stop that bleeding. Bind the wounds with fabric; anything you have. She’s going to lose a lot more blood and we need to save as much as we can.”

Liam cast his eyes around, but Monique had finally snapped out of her stupor. Deftly, she ripped off her own T-shirt, tearing it into strips.

“Hold on,” Liam muttered, cradling the phone between his cheek and shoulder and averting his gaze from Monique’s simple white underwear. Taking one of the strips from her, he quickly moved down to Quinn’s leg, bandaging her thigh as best he could and tying it tightly. Monique did the same to the wounds in Quinn’s arms.

“Okay, we’ve done it,” Liam quickly informed Rowena.

“Good; that’s good,” her voice was surprisingly calm. “Now, this is important, do you still have the sword?”

“Yes.” Liam’s confusion was mirrored by everyone listening in, but Rowena nodded confidently. “Okay, you’re going to need to heat the blade. And I mean, heat it. You’re going to use it to cauterise the wound once you pull the spike free. Can you light a fire?”

“A fire?” Liam blinked, looking around desperately but, before he could stop her, Monique had snatched up the sword and was sprinting away, toward the Orochian.

“Monique, no!” Liam yelled, dropping the phone and scrambling to his feet as he realised what she intended to do.

“Stay there!” Monique yelled back. “Get ready to pull it out!” Liam was torn between the two women but it was too late to stop Monique. If he got any closer he might be incinerated. Monique was already muttering to the Orochian, standing just left of his maw, holding the sword out in front of his mouth. Liam heard the hiss that signalled the Orochian’s fire and his chest constricted with empathy at what Monique was about to go through. Monique closed her eyes as the dragon opened his mouth, gripping the sword tightly and placing a hand on his neck to steady herself.

Watching helplessly Liam could see that the Orochian held back, emitting only a tiny fire breath, but it was still agonising to watch as the flames engulfed the sword and licked toward Monique’s tiny hand. Unable to suppress it, the girl let out a blood-curdling screech as the inferno blazed so close to her flesh that it burnt the skin clean off, exposing patches of angry, raw flesh beneath. When it was over, she stumbled, on the verge of blacking out, but sheer determination forced her to keep going. The dragon howled behind her, a sad, remorseful wail, before he lowered his head to the ground.

“Liam?” He heard Rowena gasp into the phone. In the background he heard a howl that could only belong to Jonas. Monique’s screams had filled the night air and, no doubt, everyone on the other end of the line had heard her. “Liam!” Rowena tried again, but still he didn’t reply. Monique was stumbling toward him and, as she got closer, he caught sight of her blistered, raw flesh. The acrid smell hit him and he choked back the bile that rose in his throat. He wanted to get up and help her, but Quinn’s life hung in the balance and every second that they lost, caused her chances of survival to slip away. Dropping the phone on the grass beside him, Liam grabbed hold of the jagged edge of the splinter.

Monique was almost upon them when her strength failed her. She couldn’t hold on to the sword any longer and Liam wasn’t surprised. She had managed to cling to consciousness so far, but the pain finally won and she dropped it near his feet before collapsing in a heap. Wasting no more time, Liam pulled at the splinter, roaring with the effort. The shard of wood pulled free with an awful sucking sound and he threw it aside in disgust. As expected, blood gurgled from the gaping hole, filling up inside of it and then spilling over, forming a crimson stream down Quinn’s torso. Liam’s fingers slipped as he grabbed the sword, lying just within reach on the grass beside him. He winced as the golden hilt burnt his own hands, nowhere near as badly as it must have been for Monique, but excruciating nonetheless. The silver blade was glowing a luminous orange. Without stopping to think about it, he pressed the flat side of the blade down on the wound. The sizzling sound as the wetness of the blood touched the heated silver made him sick to his stomach, but what was far worse was Quinn waking, an unearthly sound erupting from her chest as her eyes rolled back in her head. Snatching up the sword, Liam felt a surge of hope. Quinn’s stomach was badly burned, but the bleeding had stopped.

Liam could hear the frantic calls for his attention coming from the phone but he ignored them. He rolled Quinn over, as gently as he could manage. Her body had gone limp again and he prayed that she had simply passed out from the pain. A fresh panic overwhelmed him as he saw the pool of blood on the ground beneath her body, but he forced it down, pressing the blade against the wound on her back. Only once he was sure the bleeding had stopped, did he drop the sword with a clatter and lift the phone to his ear.

“It’s done,” he whispered.

“Monique?” Rowena finally asked. Liam could hear Jonas chattering, no doubt frantic with worry beside her.

“She’s going to be okay. She burnt her hands...” Liam’s voice failed him as he surveyed the two Guardians unconscious on the ground beside him. Drawing in a shaky breath, he asked, “Will Quinn heal?”

“I... I don’t...” Rowena fell silent and Liam heard the muffled sounds of the phone changing hands.

“I don’t know,” Daniel replied. “I can’t tell without knowing the extent of Quinn’s injuries. It’s the internal damage we don’t know about. But the healing power of the Slayer is like nothing I’ve ever seen. If she’s still alive in the next hour, I think she’ll survive.”

“I guess I’ll speak to you again in an hour, then,” Liam replied brusquely, cutting the call and dropping his head into his bloodied hands.

Chapter 18

Once Liam had cut the call there was nothing for anybody at the farm to do but wait for further news. In the hour that followed, Drake was vaguely aware that the gypsy named Cara had taken charge, insisting people eat, making tea which nobody drank and offering soft words of encouragement. She was least affected by what had happened, given that she had no personal connection to either of the injured Guardians, but, unbeknown to him, Cara felt the collective pain of the people around her and her heart went out to all of them. She had lost her husband so recently she was all too aware of the pain of loss. Braddon, Avery and Jonas were in a state. Drake noticed that, in light of this new information, Lenora’s compulsion seemed to have worn off and Jonas was beside himself with worry, but at least he had the comfort of knowing that, while she was badly hurt, Monique would recover. The same couldn’t be said for Quinn.

Drake remained detached from the group, keeping to himself. He was living his own private hell. He now felt nothing but relief that Charlotte was dead. It was laughable that he had ever believed he loved her, not now that he knew the true meaning of the word. Now that he truly loved, with his whole heart and soul. His world had changed the day he had met Quinn. She had opened his eyes and his heart, after a lifetime of denying the truth.

He should have told her the truth about himself when he had the chance. Now she might die, never knowing, and for some reason the thought crippled him. It didn’t change anything because she loved him as he was, despite his dark side, but he wished she could also see the good that lay buried inside.

As the torturous hour ticked slowly by, Drake reached out to her, over and over, her name an endless talisman that his mind repeated constantly. The fear burning inside of him fanned brighter with every passing minute but still he held onto her name. The Guardians, wards and gypsies were congregated in a tight cluster, drawing together as they united in their concern, but Drake wanted no part of it. He was isolated - an outsider - as he always had been. It was only ever Quinn who had made him feel that he wasn’t alone and now she was gone, out of his head, and he had never felt more abandoned.

“Drake?” Braddon’s voice interrupted his incessant pondering and Drake glanced up to find the Guardian standing only a few feet away. It pained Drake to look into his eyes because they were so similar to Quinn’s.

“Yes?” Wondering what Braddon could possibly want, Drake waited.

“Are you okay?” Braddon asked kindly and Drake’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Why are you out here by yourself?” Braddon continued.

“I’m not one of you,” Drake tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible. “I don’t belong up there.” He jerked his head in the direction of the others.

Braddon smiled a small, tight smile. “Do you know, when Quinn was a little girl, she used to question everything I told her. She asked me why we couldn’t just ask the vampires to be nicer, to stop hurting people. She thought it would be that simple to end their Quest. I explained over and over that the world just didn’t work that way,” he chuckled sadly, “but still, she persisted.”

“I can imagine,” Drake drawled. “She’s stubborn as hell.”

“She is,” Braddon agreed proudly. “And reckless, insubordinate, hell-bent on breaking all the rules... but, my daughter is no fool,” the change in his tone made Drake pay attention, “and perhaps she was right. You love Quinn, it’s as plain as day. Maybe all this fighting wasn’t necessary after all. If she could convince you, perhaps we might have convinced others. Only we didn’t even try. Instead, we waged war against anyone like you, without exception. I find myself wondering if we are different from the vampires after all.”

“There are not many like Lenora and I,” Drake conceded. “Most of us believe you are the enemy. They won’t stop coming for you. I hate to admit it but Quinn was wrong, Braddon, and as noble as the thought is, this war was inevitable.”

“You are different,” Braddon nodded. “Which is exactly my point. You’re not one of them. You risked your life to help us, to protect the wards. You’re standing here worried about exactly the same thing we are. You are one of us, Drake, whether you like it or not. And you do belong there,” he glanced back at the others. “It’s only you who doesn’t realise it yet.”

Unbelievably touched, Drake opened his mouth to speak but in the instant that he did, Quinn’s voice called to him. It was faint, but undeniably her. Drake froze, not daring to hope until he heard it again.

Drake?

I’m here. He stumbled slightly with the sheer relief at hearing her voice. Are you okay?

I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.

His heart swelled at her pathetic attempt at humour and then threatened to burst from his chest as her next words came through loud and clear.

I need you.

Jerking back to reality, Drake grabbed Braddon’s shoulders. “She’s okay! She’s alive!” He could barely suppress his delight, not caring about anything other than the fact that Quinn was alive. Mercifully, beautifully, unbelievably alive. How could he have doubted her? He should have known she’d pull through. She was the strongest woman he had ever met.

“What?” Braddon eyes widened in surprise. “How do you...?”

“It’s not quite how I wanted you to find out, but Quinn and I are bonded.” The words poured unbidden from his mouth but Drake found that he honestly didn’t care. He wouldn’t hide, not for another second. He had believed, for the most painful moments of his life that he had lost her and he wasn’t going to ever feel that way again. Quinn belonged with him and he defied anyone to challenge that fact. “Long story,” he added, as Braddon’s jaw dropped open, “but she needs me. I have to go.” To his surprise, Braddon didn’t question him.

“I’m coming with you,” was all he said.

“Fine, but we have to leave now.”

I’m on my way, Drake promised Quinn as he and Braddon jogged back toward the others.

Quinn felt a calm come over her at Drake’s words. She had woken and her very first conscious thought had been a desperate need to see him. She was frightened, although she didn’t want to admit it, and the pain was excruciating, but knowing she would see Drake soon buoyed her spirits. Tentatively, she opened her eyes, wincing at the bright light.

“Liam?” she croaked, seeing nothing but blue skies above her. Almost immediately, Liam’s face loomed above hers, his eyes searching her face frantically.

“You’re alive!” he gasped, as though he didn’t dare believe it. Quinn noticed he was bare-chested, but she didn’t have the energy to ask why.

“I think so,” she admitted feebly, before her lips pressed together as a fresh bout of pain surged through her. He moved away, and she felt the gentle touch of his fingers on her abdomen. Liam quickly checked her wounds and emitted a low whistle.

“Daniel wasn’t kidding about your healing ability.” The smaller wounds in her arms and leg were completely closed over and, while it was still a crusted, blistering mess, the burn on her abdomen was already showing signs of improvement.

“I imagine the internal damage is repairing itself just as quickly?” he asked, speaking almost as if to himself. Confusion etched across his brow as he seemed to ponder something and then he muttered, under his breath, “I wonder why Isaiah didn’t...”

“Heart,” Quinn replied through gritted teeth. “Charlotte drove the sword through his heart.”

“Right,” Liam nodded, soberly.

“Where’s Monique?” Quinn vaguely remembered that the dragon had landed just seconds before she blacked out.

“I’m here,” Monique’s voice was more subdued than normal, but, when she appeared beside Quinn, she looked as merry as ever, if a little pale. She was also wearing Liam’s shirt. Spotting the black strips of cloth tied around her arms, it dawned on Quinn why. It also explained why Liam was bare-chested.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked, seeing straight through Monique’s sunny disposition.

“Fine,” Monique held up her hand, which was bandaged in the remnants of her torn shirt. “I burnt my hand.”

“On what?” Quinn asked and then coughed violently.

“Rest,” Liam ordered, pressing her firmly back down. “We’ll explain later.”

Accepting his instruction, Quinn nodded, her eyes closing of their own accord. In her last wakeful moments she thought only of Drake. She was asleep within minutes but her mind remained connected to his even while she slumbered.

Chapter 19

Drake didn’t have time to waste. He and Braddon needed to get on the road but Daniel wasn’t letting them go without an explanation.

“What do you mean you’re bonded with Quinn?” Daniel asked. Drake sensed that his question had less to do with the bond itself and more to do with exactly how it had come about. Daniel’s face was becoming paler, slowly draining of colour and worse, his hands shook slightly at his sides. Drake had never seen the Guardian’s steely facade slip before now. Something had shaken him to his very core. The others had gathered around them, drawn by the raised voices, but they were too focused on Drake to notice Daniel’s behaviour. The news of the bond had travelled quickly through the farm and it seemed that everyone now knew about it.

“Quinn gave me her blood,” Drake explained.

“She couldn’t have,” Daniel’s answer was so instantaneous, so sharply spoken, that Drake suspected he had it ready on his lips the moment Drake had mentioned the bond. “Her blood would kill you,” Daniel concluded, sounding more confident.

“She didn’t give me her blood as the Slayer. It happened before... at Lenora’s house. And you should know she only did it to save me.”

“I don’t believe it,” Daniel interrupted. He shook his head vehemently and Drake could see how desperately he was clinging to what he knew. “No Hunter would offer a vampire her blood. You must have bitten her without her consent.” At that, Drake’s anger flared. The implication that he had hurt Quinn or had fed from her against her will was a low blow, but, before he could react, Avery stepped forward.

“It’s true,” she admitted, almost reluctantly. “I saw it with my own eyes. Quinn made the decision. It was her call. If anything, he tried to stop her.”

“It can’t be true,” Daniel insisted. His eyes darted left to right, as though he was trying to figure something out. Drake itched to get moving. Quinn needed him and he didn’t have time for Daniel’s riddles. Braddon seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he spoke up, a note of finality in his voice.

“It has to be true, Daniel. How else would he know that Quinn is alive?”

“We don’t know that for sure...” Daniel stopped mid-sentence as his phone rang.

“Liam?” he barked, snatching it up. He listened for a minute and then hung up the phone without a word.

Drake’s supernatural hearing had picked up what the others couldn’t hear. Liam had confirmed that Quinn was indeed alive. He fought a smug smile, glaring at Daniel with a look that plainly said ‘I told you so’, but his gratification was short-lived. As he watched, Daniel faltered, stumbling backward and landing heavily on the chair behind him. He was so lost in thought that the others couldn’t get through to him for a full minute.

“Do you know what this means?’ he whispered eventually, gazing up at Braddon. His eyes blazed, glowing with something Drake couldn’t quite put his finger on. Fear, anger and a glimmer of something that Drake didn’t expect - hope. “She knew,” Daniel gave a humourless laugh. “When I told her about the prophecy - about the bond - she knew she was the one.”

“Daniel, what’s going on?” If Braddon expected an answer he was disappointed.

“Let’s just go,” Drake seized his opportunity. ‘If we leave now, we can make it there in...”

“We’re coming with you,” Daniel announced, louder now, as he rose from the chair. “Piper and Austin, I need your crystals. You’re staying behind to guard the wards.”

“What?” Austin disagreed. “No way! I’m coming too.”

“You’re staying,” Daniel corrected. “You know this farm better than anyone and the wards are still our top priority. Kellan,” he turned to the faery, standing tall behind Austin, “you’ll know when the Gateway is opened.” Kellan nodded. When the Rose Gate was opened, all the Fae magic would return. “That’s when you come,” Daniel confirmed and Kellan nodded sagely. “Everyone else be ready to go in ten minutes.”

The crowd dispersed, the Guardians moving quickly while everyone else got out of their way.

“Daniel,” Braddon stepped forward. “You need to speak to Quinn before you do this. She said she would send for us. Drake and I will go and check she’s okay but she told you to wait for her instructions.”

“Quinn doesn’t need to send for us,” Daniel replied. “The bond,” he gestured at Drake, without malice or anger. Instead, for the first time he looked at Drake with something akin to respect. “The bond is the signal. It’s part of the prophecy.”

“What are you talking about? What prophecy?” Braddon asked. Drake was wondering the same thing and he watched as Daniel’s discomfort grew. Coming to a decision, he faced them.

“I guess there’s no point in keeping it from you anymore. The Sacred Book was transcribed from Eldon’s original scrolls, as you know,” Daniel began, “but the original twelve Guardians opted to omit certain things. Things that we felt might be dangerous for future Guardians, who hadn’t been around from the beginning, to know.”

“You what? How could you Daniel? That information belonged to all of us! You had no right!”

“We did what we thought was best,” Daniel brushed off the accusation. “Whether we were right or wrong is no longer relevant. What matters now is that the prophecy has been fulfilled.”

“What do you mean, it’s been fulfilled? What is this prophecy?”

“Eldon spoke of a ‘chosen one’ – a Guardian woman who would change everything. Supposedly this Guardian would bring about the end of the war. But it also warned that she would be torn between two sides. Between our people and the vampires,” Daniel added unnecessarily.

“What does this have to do with Quinn?” Braddon asked.

“Quinn is the chosen one.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because the second part of the prophecy proves it,” Daniel’s voice was hypnotic, “the chosen one would be bonded to a vampire.”

Everyone fell silent at this announcement. Only a handful of the people gathered around understood the enormity of this statement and what it meant. Drake closed his eyes, briefly. There was no denying the fact that Quinn was the Guardian referred to in the prophecy. He’d always known she was special – that didn’t surprise him – but his fear grew as he considered the second part of the prophecy, that she would have to make a choice, that the fate of the wards she protected so fiercely lay squarely and solely on her shoulders. And, from the sound of it, he was a huge part of the reason she was in this predicament in the first place. Her choice would involve him. He should never have taken her blood. If he hadn’t, the bond would never exist and the prophecy wouldn’t have been fulfilled, or if it had been, it wouldn’t have been Quinn who was chosen.

Drake cursed as Daniel continued, speaking almost to himself. He sounded remonstrative, but Drake wondered if he felt sorry that he had kept this information from the others, or simply rued the fact that he had been so wrong.

“Isaiah knew,” Daniel lamented. “He knew all along and I refused to believe it. When she became the Slayer, I had my proof. I believed she could never be bonded because her blood would kill your kind.” He waved his arm in Drake’s direction. “I had no idea it had already happened. And when I told her about it she never said a word, although she must have known. She knew the second I told her about the bond that she was the one. That’s why she’s going to such great lengths. That’s why she’s so determined to open the Rose Gate.”

“Why?” Braddon’s question was an exclamation of grief, but Daniel answered anyway.

“Because she’s starting to believe.”

Drake stood, transfixed, as Daniel’s words sunk in, but Braddon showed no such reserve. Instead, he punched Daniel right in the face, apparently with all the force he could muster, because Daniel was knocked clean off his feet.

“You son of a bitch!” Braddon roared, trying to hit Daniel again. Drake grabbed him from behind, restraining him as Daniel pulled himself up off the floor. “You should have told us!” Braddon shouted, writhing in Drake’s arms. “If we had known Quinn would never have given him her blood! You did this to her! No wonder she feels compelled to be our saviour... and she almost died tonight because she feels this is her responsibility! You kept it from us and it could get my daughter killed!”

“We had to keep it a secret!” Daniel was insistent. “We couldn’t afford any temptation. If the Guardians knew of the prophecy, what was to stop the Hunters from passing their blood to a vampire in the hope of fulfilling it? The prophecy had to take its natural course. We had to be sure!”

Drake heard the words, but such was his shock that he didn’t really absorb them. He was still restraining Braddon, holding him firmly in place so that he couldn’t attack Daniel again, but his mind raced with this new revelation.

“Hold on!” he yelled eventually, shoving Braddon behind him and stepping between them. “Just hold on a damn second!” Turning to Daniel, trying to keep his own temper in check, he spoke.

“You say that the chosen one will be torn. What does that mean exactly?”

“Eldon’s prophecies were never clear – they can be interpreted in a number of ways.”

“I’m guessing you have a theory, though?”

“Yes, although it’s only my interpretation. From what I understand the prophecy does, indeed mean the fighting will end, but I believe that the end result is not set in stone. The war will end, but it might not be the outcome we are hoping for. It depends on the chosen one’s... on Quinn’s,” he corrected himself, “decision.”

“You’re saying that Quinn... that Quinn might side with the vampires?” Even as he spoke the words, Drake realised how ridiculous they sounded. “Quinn would never do that. The wards mean everything to her. She would never do anything that might cause them harm.”

“What if the end of the war meant the end of the vampire race?” Daniel’s words were pregnant with meaning. “All of them... including you?”

“Do you mean to tell me that my daughter might have to choose between us and him?” All the fight had gone out of Braddon as he contemplated the impossible choice that Quinn might have to make. Drake understood his concern. Braddon had already admitted to knowing that Quinn was in love with Drake. Either decision would crucify her. They both knew that she would never survive the pain.

”I don’t know,” Daniel admitted. “I can only offer my own interpretation. I could be wrong.”

“You could be wrong about a lot of things,” Braddon sneered.

“The prophecy states that she will be torn,” Daniel insisted. “I cannot possibly imagine what else it could mean.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Drake interjected, sensing Braddon’s anger mounting once more. “She won’t have to make that choice.”

“The prophecy...”  Daniel began, but Drake cut him off.

“Screw your prophecy!” Drake roared. “Quinn will not have to choose.” He lowered his head, his heart aching as he accepted his fate. “Because I will make that choice for her. I’ll die before I let her destroy everything she loves.”

“I can’t allow that,” Braddon insisted.

“Really?” Drake rounded on him. “Would you rather your daughter be crucified by having to make the decision herself? No, Braddon,” he was vehement, “we will not let that happen. We will do right by her, if it’s the last thing we do and I’m counting on you to make sure of it. If anything goes wrong and I can’t do it, I want your word that you’ll kill me yourself.”

Chapter 20

Quinn witnessed the entire scene through Drake’s eyes, even while she slept. Drake’s self-sacrificial statement was what woke her, jarring her out of the slumber that was helping her body to heal.

“No!” she yelled, trying frantically to immerse herself in Drake’s mind again, but she couldn’t.

The pain had subsided but she still felt as though she had gone ten rounds with a battering ram, and her mental and physical state had weakened her. She couldn’t control the bond. Either that, or Drake had sensed her and shoved her out of his head. Quinn wished she could know what her father’s answer had been. She only prayed that Braddon hadn’t agreed to Drake’s terms.

Liam and Monique were dozing nearby and, as she pulled herself up into a sitting position, Quinn caught sight of the Orochian lying on the lawn nearby, feasting on what looked like the bloody remains of a wild cat. The dragon was probably oblivious to the crucial role he had played in bringing down Charlotte, but Quinn would never forget it. She smiled fondly at Summerfeld’s most vicious beast and he glared back at her. As she got to her feet, she accidentally knocked aside the Slayer sword, which clattered off the rock upon which it was resting. Liam and Monique jerked instantly awake.

“Sorry,” Quinn smiled apologetically, but they both grinned at the sight of her up and about. Quinn didn’t want to think about what she had unwillingly witnessed while she slept; the choice which Daniel had referred to or Drake’s proposed solution. It struck her that no one really knew what the prophecy meant and dwelling on it wouldn’t do any good. She would find a way to make it work. She would save the wards and Drake if that’s what it came down to. If there was one thing she had learned in her century as a Guardian, it was that there was always another way. She would make her own fate.

“Have you been in yet?” Quinn asked, looking back toward the site, where, until so recently, Charlotte’s house had stood.

Liam shook his head. “We thought we should wait for you.” Quinn nodded her appreciation as she raised her eyes skyward. From the looks of it she had slept for most of the day.

“It’ll be dark soon. I think we should get what we came for and get out of here before any of Charlotte’s friends come looking for her.” It struck her then that she had actually done it. She had killed Charlotte. Being impaled and almost dying suddenly seemed a small price to pay for the victory she had won.

Taking a few tentative steps forward Quinn was relieved to find that she felt fine. Her body ached in places, but she wasn’t weak or dizzy and she was quite confident that she could hold her own in a fight. Not that she expected any attacks. She was fairly certain that all of Charlotte’s men had emerged during the commotion the previous evening. Her Slayer instinct wasn’t picking up any vampires, but, admittedly, it might be weakened after her life-threatening injury. Neither Liam nor Monique had been inside to check either, so she kept her guard up as they picked their way through the rubble, on alert for the slightest hint of the nausea that would warn her of any danger.

Liam and Monique followed her down the stairs. Quinn was pleasantly surprised that the air down here was cool and clear. Perhaps Oliver, the new Guardian, who was being held captive here had survived the fire after all. Tristan had told her that he was being held in Charlotte’s dungeon and, while she had been almost certain the dungeon would not be destroyed in the fire, Quinn had known there was a small risk that he might not make it. It was a risk she had been prepared to take. If they didn’t get him out of here, Oliver would have been dead soon anyway. Charlotte was wicked and her evil didn’t bode well for a captive Guardian. Fortunately, the smoke from the fire above hadn’t permeated the dungeon, but the fire had destroyed all the wiring and the only light that penetrated the darkness came from the doorway above, which dimmed the further down the stairs they got. By the time she reached the bottom, Quinn could barely see a foot in front of her. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark, listening to the sound of the others breathing. They fanned out behind her and Quinn closed her eyes, letting her instinct guide her. It took only a moment for her to be convinced that there were definitely no vampires hiding down here in the gloom, but she would still prefer that they got out and away from this place long before nightfall.

“This way,” Quinn murmured, heading toward the door that led to Charlotte’s prison cells. When she opened the interleading door she heard nothing but the echoing creak reverberating through the small space. “Hello?” she called softly, “Oliver?” No answer was forthcoming.

“Do you think she had him moved somewhere else?” Monique whispered. “Or that Tristan may have been lying?” Quinn didn’t reply, although the second option was certainly a possibility. She didn’t trust Tristan an inch.

“Oliver?” she called again, surveying the first empty cell and praying he was here. “My name is Quinn. I’m a Guardian, just like you. The vampires are dead. We’re here to get you out.”

“I’m here.” A weak croak alerted her to his presence and Quinn felt a thrill of elation. He was alive! Moving quickly in the direction the voice had come from, she found a man standing in the cell furthest from the door. The same cell, she noticed with a pang, that Anna and her friends had been confined to. Once again, Quinn was struck with the guilt of the three women’s deaths. She should have simply let them go the second she found them. Instead, she had tried to protect them, keeping them close. In the end, Charlotte had tracked them down and killed them anyway. For just a second as she gazed through the cell bars, Quinn saw Anna and the others as she had when she found them - three women, crouched, terrified, in the far corner of the cell. Then her memory faded and instead she saw a lone man standing in the centre of the cell. He was obviously wary, but he didn’t cower, meeting Quinn’s gaze levelly. Guardian pride, Quinn thought. Guardians didn’t show their fear.

“Oliver?” she asked the obvious question. Even with her eyes adjusting, the cell was so dark that she could only just make out that the man before her had fair hair and was probably about her age in human years. He looked slightly the worse for wear, but he was in nowhere near as bad a shape as Avery, Anna and the others had been, given his relatively short period of captivity.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked, as her hand traced the bars of the door. Her fingers brushed cold metal, confirming that the padlock had been replaced.

“I’m fine,” Oliver’s voice was stronger than she expected.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” she told him as she searched around for something to break the lock.

It was Liam who came to her aid, having discovered a set of keys hanging on the wall just outside the door and, a second later, Oliver stood before them in the narrow corridor. He seemed to be dragging his left leg slightly, but Quinn was unable to assess the damage fully in the dark. When she reached forward to assist him, Oliver pulled away and the stench of sweat and urine assailed Quinn’s senses.

“Oliver, my name is Quinn. This is Liam, and Monique,” she gestured at the two shadows behind her.

“You’re Guardians?” he asked, but there was a definite note of distrust in his voice.

“We’re not like, Tristan,” she explained quickly. “We’re the good guys. We’re going to get you out of here.”

“I heard the fighting,” he said, “shortly after the fire...” There was an unspoken question in his words and Quinn nodded.

“Charlotte is dead,” she confirmed. She could only imagine the cruelty Oliver had suffered at Charlotte’s hands.

“So which of you three got to do the honours?” Quinn sensed a grim satisfaction in his tone.

“That would be me.” She smiled, despite herself, as Oliver held out his hand. His grip was firm and his hand dry and warm as she shook it.

“We helped,” Liam grumbled, before turning back down the corridor.

They emerged into the main dungeon and, by the dim light, Quinn could see that Oliver was indeed favouring his left leg, his foot sliding behind him as he walked. She wanted to assess the damage but it would have to wait until they were out of there.

“Before we go, we need to get your crystal,” she instructed.

“It’s over here,” Oliver answered immediately, shuffling to the far corner of the room. Quinn followed, growing confused when they came up against a solid brick wall. “It’s here,” Oliver insisted, feeling his way along the cold brick. “It’s right here. I can feel it.”

“Step aside,” Quinn instructed, taking his place. Running her hands along the smooth cold surface, she closed her eyes, letting her sense of touch be her guide. It took a few minutes but finally she felt it. There was a small groove in the stone just to the left of where she was standing. Pressing gently, she heard a grinding noise as a section of the wall slid aside, revealing a rectangular opening. Reaching inside it, her hand closed over the two missing crystals. She could feel Oliver rigid with tension beside her.

“Which one is yours?” she asked, passing them both to him. He handed back Tristan’s crystal immediately, keeping the thinner of the two stones. Quinn couldn’t quite make it out, but she thought it might be an amethyst. Oliver visibly relaxed once he had his crystal back.

“Let’s get you out of here.” Quinn pocketed Tristan’s crystal and led the way upstairs while Liam supported Oliver. Their progress was slow and Oliver grunted in pain with each step. Quinn moved slowly above them, guiding them through the dark until they emerged from the bowels of the wreckage. Oliver squinted against the glare of the sun. In the fading light of day Oliver looked far worse than she had initially thought. His shirt was bloody and torn and his pants were stained with urine and Eldon-only-knew what else. Averting her eyes, Quinn’s gaze fell on his leg and travelled down. What she saw drew a shocked gasp from her mouth.

“Yeah,” Oliver murmured, following the direction of her gaze. “It’s pretty bad.”

“That might just be the understatement of the century,” Quinn replied, trying to hide her shock. She marvelled at the fact that Oliver was still conscious, let alone able to walk. His left foot was twisted, facing almost ninety degrees in the wrong direction. Everything visible below the hem of his long pants was distorted and bruised – a rainbow of black and blue with the odd splotch of yellow indicating older injuries. Catching sight of the mangled mess, Monique clapped a hand over her mouth and made a small retching sound.

“What did they do to you?” Quinn asked, meeting Oliver’s gaze levelly. She felt the utmost respect for this man who had been ripped away from his previous life only to go through hell.

“They broke my ankle,” he replied matter-of-factly, “over and over. Every time it started healing, they did it again.”

Quinn felt a rush of respect for the young man. Clearly, he didn’t need sugar-coating, but she still grimaced at the thought of what needed to be done. Oliver’s bones were healing themselves out of alignment.

“I’m going to have to break it again.”

“I know,” he replied, without hesitation.

“Liam,” Quinn gestured him forward and between the two of them they slowly lowered Oliver to the floor. Seeing Monique looking a little green, Quinn despatched her to check on the Orochian. “Hold his shoulders,” Quinn instructed Liam, and he did as he was told. “You want something to bite down on?” she asked Oliver. His brown eyes widened slightly as she took hold of his foot, but he shook his head.

“Okay, on the count of three,” Quinn said. “One. Two.” Without warning she jerked Oliver’s foot to the right, cracking his ankle back into place. To her relief, Oliver promptly passed out.

“Liam, do you have any extra clothes in that pack?” Quinn asked and, to her relief, Liam nodded. “Good. Let’s clean him up as best we can and get him into some clean clothes. Even the slightest movement is going to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. I’d rather do it while he’s out.”

As Liam rifled through his backpack, Quinn started unbuttoning Oliver’s shirt. There was a small circular badge sewn on the pocket, barely legible it was so covered in grime. She peered closer, just making out the words, Winchester Electronics and below that, his name Oliver Winchester.

Sighing, hoping that the Winchesters had another family member to take over the family business, Quinn lifted Oliver’s left arm to pull it through his sleeve and froze, her chest constricting. On Oliver’s left hand, around the base of his ring finger, shone a slim gold band.

Chapter 21

If Austin was spitting about being left behind with Piper to guard the wards, it was nothing compared to Avery’s fury when she spotted Garrett shoving Tristan into the back seat of one of the cars that would be heading for Cliffdale. “What are you doing?” she demanded, preparing to haul Tristan right back out. “He’s not coming with us, surely?”

“Daniel’s orders,” Garrett shrugged, but the look he gave Tristan made it clear that he didn’t approve of the decision.

“No,” Avery shook her head so fiercely that her hair whipped back and forth into her eyes. “No way.” She stormed off to confront Daniel, who was just making his way down the porch steps.

“Why on earth would we bring him along?” she snapped, pointing back at the car where the slump of Tristan’s shoulders was clearly visible through the window in the last of the sun’s light. “After everything he’s done?”

“For a number of reasons,” Daniel explained, in a kinder tone than she had expected, “but the main one being that he can identify Aleksei. If the vampires are still inhabiting the City we’ll need all the information we can get. Aleksei is a formidable opponent and he’s legendary for his craftiness. Being able to identify him will be a valuable asset.”

“We’re supposed to vote,” Avery reminded him. “The Guardianship is a democracy. You can’t make a decision of this magnitude without us.”

“You’re right,” Daniel consented, although lately that rule had gone out of the window. He refrained from pointing out that Quinn was now making most of the decisions. “But there’s not much time.” Calling everyone to gather round he posed the question, as well as his reason for bringing Tristan along. To Avery’s disgust, everyone voted for Daniel, including Tristan himself.

“You don’t get a vote, traitor!” she hissed, as he raised his hand out of the car window. “Fine,” she relented, shooting Daniel a filthy look, “but things are going to get very messy out there. You’ve kept him well-guarded here but, just so you know, I’m going to kill him the very first chance I get.” Turning on her heel, she deliberately got into the front seat beside Garrett, leaving Daniel and Braddon to share the back with Tristan.

Drake watched Avery’s theatrical antics with amusement. He heard Daniel heave a weary sigh as he came to stand beside him. “You’ll make your own way?” he asked and Drake nodded. He had been ready to leave for some time and was eager to get on his way. He was also relieved that Braddon had opted to travel with the other Guardians. He had initially offered to accompany Drake, even though the others were also heading in the same direction, but Drake had declined. Travelling with someone else would only slow him down.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay put?” Daniel said. “You’d be a great asset keeping watch over the wards.”

“You should know better than to ask me that.”

Daniel didn’t mince his words. “The bond might cause a problem if you get too close to Quinn.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Drake snapped, “but I’m going.”

“This is all about her, isn’t it? Quinn is the only reason you’re here - the only reason you’re doing any of this.”

“She was,” Drake corrected.

“But?”

“There was a moment today when I had to consider that she might not make it,” Drake exhaled as he recalled the feeling of helplessness that had come over him when he had lost the connection to Quinn’s mind. “I don’t know how I would’ve coped if she had... if anything had happened to her... but it did occur to me that if she hadn’t made it today, I wouldn’t have left. I would still be here. I don’t know what that means, exactly, but I figure I’m not only doing this for her anymore.”

Daniel had fallen silent. Drake waited for him to respond, but, in the end, Daniel simply lifted his hand and placed it on Drake’s shoulder. Somehow, the gesture conveyed more than any words could have.

In the semi-darkness of twilight, Drake made his way to the flat area behind the barn where they had parked all the cars. The Guardians had left only minutes ago. He would beat them to Cliffdale regardless which car he took, given that his senses allowed him to travel much faster, but Lenora’s Lamborghini would make the journey that much quicker. He had made Quinn a promise that he was on his way, but he intended to arrive in record time.

“You’re taking my favourite car, aren’t you?” Lenora pouted. Drake swivelled around to find her standing at the door of the Lamborghini, swirling a familiar set of keys around one long, red-taloned finger. She must have really raced over here to beat him, the sun had literally only set a few seconds ago.  Drake grinned.

“If I wreck it, I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Why didn’t you tell me Aleksei was back?” Her words were serious and tinged with fear.

He didn’t meet her eyes. “I knew you’d start freaking out. I didn’t want you to get yourself all worked up... stress ages you, you know.” Judging by her expression his attempt at humour had failed miserably and Drake braced himself for a typically Lenora lecture.

“Drake,” she snatched up the keys and crossed to stand before him, her warm brown eyes pleading. “You and I both know this changes everything. I want to help these people just as much as you do – probably more since Isaiah’s death - but this is asking too much. The Guardians can’t win. They don’t stand a chance against him.”

“I know they don’t. But I do.” His answer was obviously not what she had expected, but his green eyes were deadly serious.

“No,” Lenora shook her head. “No, Drake. You cannot take on Aleksei by yourself. Please... don’t do this.”

“It’s already done.”

“He will kill you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“It’s not that! You are the most powerful vampire I’ve ever known, but even you can’t take on the king of all vampires! You can’t honestly believe you stand a chance of defeating him?” Drake’s hands clenched into fists. “I will not abandon her now.”

“I should have known. This is all about Quinn. You want to protect her and I understand that, but then tell her to run! Take her and the others somewhere he will never find you. I’ll help. If we pool our resources we can keep them safe.”

“There is no place on earth that they will be safe; not if Aleksei is back and hunting them.”

“You could hide them,” Lenora’s voice had dropped to barely more than a whisper. “If anyone could… you could…” Drake bristled, sensing that the conversation was headed into dangerous territory. Into his past, a history he didn’t need reminding of. Although a part of him desperately wanted to know just how much Lenora knew, he cut her off abruptly.

“Besides,” he continued, as though she hadn’t spoken, “even if there was such a place, do you really think I could convince her to run. Convince any of them, to run?” He gave a mirthless laugh.

“No,” a proud voice interrupted and they turned to find Channon, Rafe and the other four werewolves standing behind them. They hadn’t even heard them arrive, but obviously the wolves had overheard at least the last part of their conversation. “Drake is right,” Channon continued, crossing her arms across her chest, “the Guardians will not run and neither will we. We’d like to come with you,” she nodded at Drake. Drake admired her tenacity. He personally had no problem with the wolves joining the fray, particularly if it increased the Guardians’ chance of success, but he had to wonder what the others would think if he arrived at Cliffdale with the last of the werewolf species in tow.

“I thought Daniel said all the wards were to remain behind,” Drake pointed out.

“That wasn’t his decision to make.” Channon was just as stubborn as Quinn, Drake thought wryly. Turning back to Lenora, he held out his hand for the keys.

“We’re going to need another car, too,” he remarked, catching them as she tossed them over with a resigned air.

“We have to go with you,” Channon spoke as he opened the Lamborghini door.

“Six of you aren’t going to fit in this car,” Drake replied. The Lamborghini only had two seats. “Besides, there’s plenty to choose from. I’d take that truck – if you don’t mind the open air.” He gestured at a pick-up a few cars away.

Channon faltered. “We... ah... we don’t know how to drive.” Drake could tell how painful it was for her to admit, but of course the wards couldn’t drive. There were no automobiles in Summerfeld.

“I do.” They all turned to stare as Jonas skulked in from the shadows near the barn.

“Well, doesn’t everyone want to be a hero tonight,” Lenora drawled, but Drake knew her sarcasm was born of concern. “Does your father know you’re here?’ Lenora added.

“No,” Jonas faced her unabashedly, “but I’m going. Monique is out there.”

“You’re human,” Drake reminded him, not unkindly. “You’re not going to be much use to her.”

“I won’t get involved,” Jonas promised. “I just want to be there. I can drive you,” he added, appealing to Channon, who needed him, regardless of how she might feel about letting him tag along. “And I’ll stay in the woods,” he added for good measure, “I won’t go anywhere near the Cathedral.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Drake muttered, curling his long frame into the Lamborghini, “but I’ll let you all resolve this. I’m leaving.”

“Wait!” Lenora held up her hand. “If you insist on going, I have something for you.”

“Lenora…”

“It’ll only take a second,” she said, darting back toward the main house.

She was back in no time at all but Drake had already started drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. To his surprise Lenora was carrying the box that Dylan had fetched for her.

“It’s for Quinn,” Lenora reminded him, passing it through the open window. “I had hoped to give it to her myself, but… well, anyway, tell her it’s the least I could do. Isaiah believed in her, and I guess I’m going to have to do the same. Maybe this will help.”

Drake set the box down on the floor by the passenger’s seat and turned to face her. Every nerve in his body screamed for him to get going but he couldn’t leave her without telling her how much she meant to him.

“You know you have done more for me than I could ever have expected,” he began. “I don’t know why or how you came into my life, Lenora, but I don’t think I could have survived it without you. When Lucian was taken from me I didn’t think I would recover, or get past the rage. But I did, because of you. Despite everything I’ve done, you never turned your back on me. I’ve never thanked you properly, but I hope you know how much you mean to me.”

Lenora pressed her lips together, and to Drake’s astonishment she seemed to be holding back tears. “Lucian was a very dear friend,” she smiled sadly, wiping her eyes. “It’s been an honour and a privilege to know you, Drake. He would have been very proud of you.” Drake was at a loss for words but there was nothing more to say. “Go,” Lenora instructed, reading his thoughts. “Do what you need to do.”

The powerful engine growled as he started the car, the sound deafening even in the open space. “You come back,” Lenora yelled frantically over the noise.

“I will,” he promised.

“You better. I want my car back.” She gave him a tragic, meaningful smile and then stepped away from the door as he hit the gas and the Lamborghini catapulted forward, the tyres sending up plumes of dust that enveloped Lenora and the others. By the time it cleared, Drake was already speeding toward his destination.

Chapter 22

Channon watched the exchange between Drake and Lenora, torn between her instinctive dislike of the vampire race and compassion for the depth of their relationship. If there was ever a pair of vampires who could change her centuries-old prejudice, it was Drake and Lenora. As the sports car disappeared in a cloud of dust, she watched Lenora’s face crumple as the woman gave way to the emotion she had been holding back.

“He’ll be okay,” Channon called, unable to stand by and do nothing to ease the other woman’s fears. Lenora sniffed, seemed to remember that she was not alone and visibly pulled herself together.

“You should get going,’ she said, striding briskly over to the truck. “The keys are in the ignition,” she called a second later.

“Great,” Jonas announced, following her lead and yanking open the driver’s door. Unsure of whether or not to accept his help, Channon looked to Rafe for guidance.

“I don’t like it either,” he murmured, “but it doesn’t look like we have much choice.”

During their short time together, Channon had become fond of the gypsies, Jonas in particular, and the thought of taking him along on this mission crippled her, but Rafe was right. Without Jonas, they weren’t going anywhere.

“Okay,” she relented, faced with no alternative. “Let’s go.” As she settled into the front seat, Rafe slid in beside her, while Dominic, Sawyer, Perry and Reagan clambered into the truck bed behind them. In true male-wolf style, Dominic and Sawyer stood, banging their fists on the roof of the pick-up, while Perry and Reagan settled comfortably at their feet, resting their backs against the window that separated the cab from the bed.

Lenora leaned in to the driver’s window, a stern expression on her face. “You better not tell your father I knew anything about this,” she instructed Jonas.

“I won’t.” Jonas gave her an impulsive, awkward hug through the open window and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.” A minute later, the blue pick-up jerked out of the yard, the smell of the burning clutch assaulting Channon’s senses. Their exit was far less flamboyant than Drake’s had been, but she sensed that Lenora’s heart hurt just the same.

“So, what’s the plan?” Jonas asked as they bumped along the road. Channon tried to ignore the grinding protest of the truck as he clumsily changed gears.

“We find them and we help in whatever way we can,” Channon replied simply. “Don’t go getting any ideas, Jonas. You will stay in those woods just like you promised or I will tie your sorry ass to a tree.” Beside her, Rafe chuckled. “It’s not funny,” Channon scolded.

“It is kinda funny,” Rafe teased. “Although she’s right,” he added as Jonas joined in with a chuckle of his own. “If I get even a whiff that you plan on doing something stupid I’ll tie you to that tree myself.”

Channon fell silent then, wondering if she was making the right decision. The four wolves behind her were all that remained of their kind; the last known werewolves in existence. As the first female Alpha in history, would she lead them to their death? Would she bring about the extinction of her own species? The burden of being Alpha weighed heavily on her heart, but the alternative was inconceivable. She couldn’t let the Guardians fight this battle alone, not when she was in a position to help.

“You’re doing the right thing,” Rafe murmured, taking her hand. His calm, steady presence comforted her in ways that simple words couldn’t. Rafe had become her sounding-board – listening for hours as she was plagued with self-doubt and guiding her with his own experience. He no longer resented her position. He had proven his own worth when he had helped the pack to shift, showing that it was not only the Alpha who could contribute. They had always been a team and his acceptance and support of her leadership after the battle of Summerfeld had only brought them closer together.

“Do you really believe that or are you telling me what I want to hear?’ she asked, fixing him with her amber eyes.

“Maybe I’m doing both.”

“If they die, we cease to exist,” Channon spoke softly, hating having to say the words out loud.

“If they die, they die fighting,” Rafe countered. “We’re wolves, Chan. We were born to fight, not to hide. You’re doing the right thing.”

Channon let the issue go then, resting her head on Rafe’s shoulder as Jonas pressed his foot down on the gas pedal, speeding them toward the danger that no doubt awaited them.

Back at the farm house, Lenora found the Fae preparing for their departure. “And where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.

“We need to get closer to the City,” Kellan replied. “When they open the Rose Gate, our magic will return. We can help, but not if it takes us too long to get there. We need to be in the vicinity when the Gate opens.”

“Does anyone ever actually listen to Daniel?” Lenora arched her dark brows.

“We can’t stay here,” Kellan insisted.

“Do Piper and Austin know that you’re leaving?” Lenora found it hard to believe that Piper, in particular, would willingly allow the Fae to disobey Daniel’s orders.

“Actually, I didn’t tell them. But I’m pretty sure they have every intention of heading there themselves. I overheard Austin telling Piper he wouldn’t stay behind. She’s trying to convince him but I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

“What about the baby?” Lenora pressed, as Freya descended the stairs, baby Sage cradled against her chest.

“She’ll stay here with the women,” Freya answered the question. “Only Evangeline and I will accompany the men.

“They’re our best archers,” Kellan explained, but Lenora noticed his lips press tightly together. Kellan wasn’t happy about his wife coming along, but Lenora suspected that Freya had given him little choice in the matter.

“Just wait a minute,” she held up her hand. Everything was happening too fast, with no consideration for the consequences. Fools rush in, she thought wildly.

“We don’t have time,” Kellan replied. “The Guardians will need our help. We have to get there as quickly as we can. The Fae women staying behind are our safeguard. If they don’t hear from us by tomorrow they’re going to take the herd and the hatchlings and flee. So long as they stay alive the Guardian line can’t be eliminated. More will come, if we fail. We can’t just sit here and do nothing. We can’t let the Guardians fight for us alone, not when we can help.”

Lenora stifled a scream of frustration as she made her decision. “Fine, fine! But I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Freya said, but Lenora could see the relief in her eyes.

“Wasn’t that your plan all along?” she asked, irritably. “Who else was going to drive you? I have it on good authority that Summerfeld wards have little experience with manmade technology.”

Both Kellan and Freya had the good grace to blush but, rather than get into an argument, Lenora resigned herself to the inevitable. “How many are going?” she asked.

“Eight,” Kellan’s answer was immediate. “Six men and the two women. Unless of course, you’ve changed your mind?” he cast a hopeful glance at his wife.

“Not on your life,” Freya replied.

“I’m going to have to get some help,” Lenora sighed. “We’ll never all fit in one car. And I hope your magic includes protective enchantments,” she added irritably, “because when Daniel finds out I helped you, he’s going to kill me.”

It didn’t take Lenora long to track down Balthazar. He was striding purposefully toward the far edge of the farm, alongside a post and rail fence. She could see the concern etched on his brow even from a distance. Balthazar was searching for Jonas.

“He’s not here,” she spoke gently as she approached. “He left a few minutes ago – he’s driving the wolves back to Summerfeld.”

A stream of expletives poured from Balthazar’s mouth.

“My thoughts exactly,” Lenora nodded agreeably. “Now, before you rush off to find him, which of course you will, there’s something you need to know. You’ll be taking a few passengers with you.” At Balthazar’s look of astonishment, she continued, “A bunch of the Fae are going back, too. They need a ride.”

Balthazar finally found his tongue. “We can’t take the Fae anywhere near Summerfeld.”

“Actually we can. And if the Guardians do manage to open that Gate and release the magic, I’m thinking that that meek, mild lot back there are going to become pretty impressive. They can help.”

“I won’t do it,” Balthazar insisted.

“Then I suggest you start walking,” Lenora picked idly at her fingernail, “because it’s a long way to Cliffdale and, in case you’ve forgotten, all the cars here belong to me.” She let the implication of her words set in. Balthazar couldn’t leave without her permission and she wouldn’t allow him to leave unless he helped her.

“Fine,” he spat eventually. “I’ll meet you there in five minutes. I need to fetch Rowena – she’s going to want to come too.”

“Of course she is,” Lenora rolled her eyes. “Because there’s a party at Summerfeld and apparently everyone’s invited.”

Chapter 23

Dimitri’s hands trembled as he knelt before Aleksei, a fact that the vampire king didn’t miss. Why was he surrounded by cowards? When had his species become such incompetent imbeciles? His eyes scanned the vampires gathered around them while the gentle gurgle of the fountain continued uninterrupted behind him. Dimitri had relayed the information exactly as it had been relayed to him by the scout. When Charlotte had failed to answer her phone, Aleksei had insisted that a scout be sent to the manor house to investigate why. His concern had nothing to do with Charlotte herself, but rather for the crystals she had in her possession.

“Burned?” Aleksei snarled. “How in God’s name did they manage to burn down an entire house?” He had considered Charlotte at least slightly more competent than the rest, but she had turned out to be yet another colossal disappointment.

“We can only assume it was the work of a dragon, my Lord. Much of the house was totally incinerated, leaving it completely unrecognisable. Only the heat of a dragon’s fire could cause that extent of damage.”

Aleksei recalled that a dragon had helped the wards escape the City when the vampires had invaded. It would seem they still controlled it.

“They must have a dragon-rider,” he mused. It was a well-known fact that only a dragon rider could control the beasts. Before Summerfeld had been built, the only dragon-riders had been among the Fae race, but Eldon must have weaved his Guardian charm so that members of the Guardianship might have the same ability. “Were there any survivors?” he asked.

“No,” Dimitri shook his head. “It appears they destroyed them all, including Charlotte. The Guardian we captured is also gone.”

“The crystals?” Aleksei continued, completely unaffected by the death of the woman who had single-handedly brought about the demise of Summerfeld.

At this, Dimitri’s entire body started to shake. “We couldn’t find them, Sire. They’re gone.”

“Gone?” Aleksei echoed, his voice lulling the gathered crowd into a false sense of security. “Gone?” he emitted a low hiss, his next words hurled at them with all the force of his power. “Do you have any idea what this means?” No one dared answer. “They have all the crystals,” Aleksei continued, striding toward Dimitri and seizing him by the throat. The gathered vampires took a step back, trying to distance themselves. “The Guardians wouldn’t have risked their lives for those crystals without a purpose! They’re going to open the Temple!” He shook Dimitri so hard that his fangs banged together, piercing his lips and a stream of blood dribbled down his chin. “The Gate could be anywhere!”

Aleksei’s fraying temper snapped and he lifted Dimitri clear off his feet, shoving him brutally against the marble bowl of the fountain. Without allowing him even a second to draw breath, Aleksei plunged Dimitri headfirst into the enchanted water. The surrounding water began to hiss and fizz, bubbles rising rapidly to the surface as he submerged Dimitri’s head and shoulders. The water burned Aleksei’s hands too, but his fury overrode the pain and he held the vampire down, longer than he had intended.

Every second passed infinitely slowly but, as his thoughts cleared, Aleksei reigned in his temper. Killing Dimitri would certainly ease his rage, but if the Guardians were attempting to open the Rose Gate he would need every vampire at his disposal. Hauling Dimitri back up, he ignored the stabs of pain as water droplets landed all over his skin. His hands were blistered and raw but his face was an impenetrable mask. Dimitri, on the other hand, howled; his high-pitched screams accompanied by frenzied clawing at his blistered, burnt face. The flesh of one of his cheeks had been completely eroded, exposing the bone beneath, and in other places his skin hung limply off his face.

“Shut up!” Aleksei roared. “You will heal. If you make one more sound it will be the last you ever make.” Dimitri’s cries cut off as quickly as if a switch had been flipped, his mouth forming wails of pain that were as silent as they were hopeless.

“You will scour the records in the Cathedral,” Aleksei instructed the group at large. “I want to know everything there is to know about that gate. Nobody rests until I know where the Guardians are headed.”

Not needing any further incentive, the vampires scattered. Aleksei gave Dimitri one last hateful look, which the vampire couldn’t see. His eyelids had been burned off, but so had the retina of his eyes. The hideous sightless orbs were oozing, but, even as Aleksei watched, Dimitri’s skin began to repair itself. Feeling not even the slightest sympathy, Aleksei turned on his heel and stalked off, making his way toward the Cathedral.

The main hall was devoid of vampires. Most had piled into the record room to pore over the ancient documents and texts. Aleksei doubted they would find anything. The only tome that might hold answers was the legendary Sacred Book which hadn’t been found. It had either been destroyed or the Guardians had taken it with them when they fled the City.

Gazing around the hall, Aleksei surveyed the carnage he had wreaked on the Cathedral. Eldon’s statue had been destroyed the very night he arrived and huge chunks of marble and stone littered the floor. The altar was barely visible through the wreckage, but, as he gazed up, Aleksei saw that the stained glass window bearing the image of Princess Enah remained. Aleksei stared at the likeness. He had never understood what his son had seen in the Fae princess. Julian had been destined for greatness. He had been powerful and fearless, a son any father would have been proud of. Aleksei had known Enah for most of her life, although he had kept his distance from the Fae even then, when the two races lived in harmony. She had been a spoilt, self-indulgent little girl, pretty and pathetic and silly.

When Aleksei had deigned to attend one of Eldon’s balls, an annual celebration of the supernatural, intended to preserve relationships between the species, he had been surprised to see that Enah had indeed grown to be as beautiful as her mother, but she was still the same silly girl underneath her poise and grace. That was the night that Julian had met Enah, and he had given no indication that he felt anything but disdain for the Fae princess. As it turned out, Julian had proved to be just as crafty as Aleksei himself. Unbeknown to their fathers, the young lovers had been meeting on the sly since that first fatal night, keeping their relationship a secret from everyone but a handful of their closest confidantes. By the time Aleksei had become aware of their marriage, Enah had broken the Taboo.

In truth, such was his rage that Aleksei would have hunted the little bitch down himself and killed her, but Eldon discovered their treachery first. He had killed Julian before Aleksei could even confront his son. That was the day that Aleksei declared war on the Fae. It was the same day that his wife died.

Aleksei heaved a sigh as he gazed up at the stained glass window. Selene. Now, there had been a woman! She had been everything that Enah was not – fierce, volatile and vicious. Aleksei had loved her since the beginning of time, but the day Julian was killed, she had defied him. Selene had been violently opposed to the war.

“Going up against the Fae isn’t as simple as you might think,” she had scoffed when Aleksei had told her of his intentions. “Don’t be a fool, Aleksei. If you declare outright war, the wolves, the dragons, everyone will side with Eldon. You cannot hope to fight them all.”

It wasn’t that Selene had been against destroying Eldon. In fact, quite the opposite. Julian’s death had affected her even more badly than it had Aleksei and Selene’s blood bayed for vengeance. She had wanted Eldon to suffer, but she had insisted the vampires should proceed with caution; that they should practice patience and attack the Fae in secret until they could get close enough to the royal family to end their line. Her mockery of him, however, had sent Aleksei over the edge and he had murdered his own wife.

He had never regretted killing Selene but he had regretted not listening to her. She had been right, after all. The second he declared war, Eldon had sent his sons into hiding and, just as Selene predicted, he had allied himself with every other supernatural creature. Although Eldon and Enah’s death had gone some way to quenching Aleksei’s thirst for revenge, he would not be satisfied until Eldon’s entire family had been eradicated. It irked him to know that, had he heeded Selene’s warning, he might have destroyed them a long time ago.

“Sire,” a voice interrupted his musings and Aleksei turned to find a young female vampire quivering in the doorway to the record room.

“What is it?” Aleksei snapped.

“We’ve found some old maps, my lord, but we need to spread them out to study them. We were wondering if we might make use of the table?” she gestured at the impressive table nearby surrounded by twelve chairs.

“Fine,” Aleksei replied, and the girl nodded, before moving quickly back into the room, no doubt to relay his agreement.

Aleksei stopped to pick up a particularly heavy chunk of marble and tossed it into the air, testing its weight before he caught it again. As the vampires emerged from the room, their arms laden with scroll-like maps, Aleksei hurled the stone at the window. It shattered in a crescendo of sound, the glass crashing to the Cathedral floor in a thousand colourful pieces.

Chapter 24

“What happened to three?” were Oliver’s first words when he woke.

“I figured I’d spare you another second of waiting,” Quinn smiled. Oliver hadn’t slept for long, and his foot, while no doubt still in agony, was at least facing the right way. “How do you feel?”

“It’s tender but it feels a whole lot better than before.”

“It looks better,” Monique said, peering over Quinn’s shoulder.

“Can you stand?” Quinn asked.

“I think so.”

“Good. Because we have somewhere we need to be.” She offered him her hand and Oliver took it, allowing her to haul him to his feet.

“Nice threads,” he remarked, catching sight of the black jeans and T-shirt he now wore.

“I figured you’d appreciate a change of clothes. Yours were a little...”

“Soiled?” he didn’t seem embarrassed by it in the least and Quinn admired his tenacity.

“I was going to say dirty.”

“That’s very P.C of you.” He winced slightly as he put weight on the foot, but took a few brave hobbling steps, his mouth set in a grim line.

“Well, you’re nothing if not determined,” Quinn teased. “Now stop showing off and lean on us.”

Between them, Quinn and Liam led Oliver forward, following in Monique’s wake as she strode toward the Orochian. The new Guardian baulked as he laid eyes on the dragon, still toying with the cleanly picked carcass of the wildcat, but they kept him moving forward. To Quinn’s surprise, Oliver didn’t protest as Liam gave him a leg up onto the Orochian’s back. He was positioned directly behind Monique, which was the safest place to be – just in front of the dragon’s shoulders. When they were in the air, Quinn knew, he wouldn’t be able to see much below him. The dragon’s wings would block the terrifying view.

“Where to?” Monique asked, peering down at her as Liam scrambled up behind Oliver.

“New Haven,” Quinn confirmed. “We’ll take shelter in the woods near the City.”

“Should we phone Daniel? Didn’t you say you would send for them?”

“They’re already on their way,” Quinn replied enigmatically. She didn’t want to get into the details of the bond with them right now, but she had read it in Drake’s mind. The cavalry was on the way. She was the last to hoist herself up behind Liam. “Here we go again,” she murmured in his ear, as the beast flapped its wings. As they streaked heavenward, Quinn kept her eyes on the grey ruin of Charlotte’s Manor house.

Once in the air, Quinn noticed that Monique barely had to guide the Orochian. Once she had steered their course, the dragon flew towards New Haven as though Summerfeld was a homing beacon. We’re all going back, Quinn thought to herself. As terrifying as the thought was, she couldn’t help but feel that they were finally going home. They would deal with whatever awaited, but Summerfeld was their home, and they would fight for it, or die trying.

She thought of the gold band she had seen on Oliver’s finger. He had a wife somewhere in this world. A woman who was no doubt at this very moment wondering what had become of her husband. Oliver didn’t seem old enough to be married, but the ring on his finger proved otherwise. They were probably newlyweds. Quinn could only wonder at how hard it must have been for Oliver to leave that life behind. The calling of the Guardianship was too strong to be ignored, but it could be fought over time – Tristan was proof of that. For the first time Quinn realised how unfair Eldon’s magic was. It wasn’t selective, nor did it care for the personal, human lives of the branded. Quinn had never regretted her calling, but Tristan certainly had, and Quinn suspected that Oliver might too, particularly if there was a Mrs Winchester who had been left behind.

The journey was cold and Quinn’s body ached from sitting in the same place for so long but nothing could douse the light and warmth in her heart. Hope. Hope had taken seed and with every step of her journey, Quinn believed more and more that she could do this. She could save her people. She could fulfil the prophecy and end a thousand years of hatred.

As the dragon streaked forward, Quinn’s eyes watered, the wind pummelling her face and burning her cheeks. Resigning herself to the monotony of the long flight, Quinn closed her eyes and gave a start, her eyes snapping open.

“You okay?” Liam called back.

“Fine,” she yelled in his ear. She had simply been unprepared. Taking a calming breath, she closed her eyes again. The same sight as before greeted her. She saw the broken white lines of a highway blurring into one as though she was travelling at a great speed. She was looking through the windshield of a car and familiar hands were gripping the steering wheel before her.

What are you doing, Quinn? Drake asked, sensing her in his head.

I’m not sure. A signboard flew overhead and she recognised the area but it seemed impossible that he could have travelled such a distance in so short a space of time.

Are you in Himesville? She asked.

How could you possibly know that?

I can see what you see.

What?

It’s weird, I know, but it feels like I’m looking through your eyes. She pondered that for a moment. It made sense, with the bond. They shared a consciousness, so it wasn’t that much of a stretch, but what she didn’t understand was why it was only happening now.

Maybe the bond develops over time? Drake asked, reading her thoughts.

No. I wanted to see you, Quinn admitted. I didn’t just want to talk, I actually wanted to see you – maybe that’s why. Can you see what I see?

I really don’t think it’s a good idea to try right now, he replied and his gaze flickered to the speedometer. He was travelling at just over two hundred miles per hour. I’ll be there soon, he promised.

Quinn opened her eyes, withdrawing from Drake’s mind, but the hope in her heart flared just a little bit brighter.

Chapter 25

Lenora scanned the rear-view mirror to check that Balthazar was still behind them. The familiar black Audi was still there. She had refused to let anyone else drive the Mercedes.

“You guys don’t talk much, do you?” Lenora asked the car’s passengers in general. They had been driving for hours and the Fae travelling with her had barely said a word the entire journey.

Kellan smiled at her from the passenger seat. “I guess we’ve all got a lot on our minds.” Rowena didn’t miss the anxious glance he cast Freya over his shoulder.

“You’re going to be fine,” she insisted with the utmost conviction. “The Guardians aren’t going to let anything happen to you and you’ll be back with that baby in no time. Besides, you’ll be out of harm’s way until you get your magic back.” Glancing in the mirror again she noticed Evangeline shift slightly in her seat. “You are going to stay out of harm’s way until it comes back, right?” Lenora frowned. No one answered her.

Heaving a sigh, Lenora pulled over to the shoulder of the road.

“What are you doing?” Kellan’s voice was panic-stricken. “We need to keep moving. We aren’t going to go looking for trouble if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not that,” Lenora opened her door as Balthazar pulled up behind them. “You’ll do what you’re going to do, regardless of what I say.”

“Then why are we stopping?”
“The sun’s rising,” Lenora gestured at the horizon and, sure enough, the dark sky was tinged the palest pink. “I may have become philanthropic in my old age, but I still have a strong sense of self-preservation.” She slammed the door and walked to intercept Balthazar’s car as it approached.

“Rowena’s going to have to take my place,” Lenora said when she reached his window. Rowena was sitting in the passenger seat of the Audi. Unlike Kellan, Balthazar understood immediately why Lenora had stopped.

“Where are you going to hide out?” he asked. “It doesn’t look like there’s a town anywhere near here.”

“I’m not hiding anywhere. If I lose a whole day I’ll never make it there in time to keep you all out of trouble.” The briefest of smiles crossed her lips before a look of accepted annoyance replaced it. “Pop your trunk,” she grumbled.

Balthazar did as he was told. The trunk was hardly small, by vehicle standards, but it certainly wasn’t spacious enough to be comfortable.

“You’re seriously going to spend the rest of the journey in there?” Rowena asked, coming around to join them.

“It’s not something I’m looking forward to,” Lenora said. “Best you don’t hit any potholes,” she added, glaring at Balthazar as though he might intentionally do just that.

“I’ll do my best,” Balthazar grinned. He waited until she had curled herself into the empty trunk. “Just thump if you need anything.”

Lenora was still cursing as he closed the trunk.

“Are you going to be okay driving?” Balthazar asked. Rowena nodded. Her quiet confidence and dedication never ceased to amaze him, but he could also see the fear brimming in her eyes.

“I’m just so worried about him,” Rowena admitted.

“Jonas only a left a short while before we did,” Balthazar reminded her. “With any luck we’ll catch up with him and the wolves before they even reach New Haven.” She smiled, and he could tell she didn’t really believe him. As frantic as they were to catch up to Jonas, they knew he felt the same about Monique. He would be travelling as fast as he possibly could. The chances they would catch him before he reached Summerfeld were slim to none.

“The wolves will protect him,” she whispered.

“Exactly,” Balthazar feigned a confidence he didn’t feel. “And we still have a lot of light on our side. The vampires will be confined inside until nightfall. We just need to make sure we get there before sundown.”

“It’s going to be tight.”

“I know.” Balthazar glanced again at the horizon, the sky lightening with every passing minute. A whole day stretched before them, but they still had a long way to go.

“We should get back on the road,” Rowena said, mirroring his thoughts.

“That would be wonderful,” a disgruntled voice called from the trunk and Balthazar chuckled. Bending so that his mouth was level with the trunk, he spoke.

“You might want to hold onto something,” he told Lenora.

Balthazar walked Rowena to the Mercedes and opened the door for her.

“Be safe,” she said. On impulse, Balthazar took her in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. They had been through so much together and now they were heading into the most dangerous situation of their lives. But they were together, Balthazar reminded himself. Whatever happened, they would face it together, as they always had. And who knows? Perhaps they might even find a miracle.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he murmured gruffly into her hair. He released her quickly, watching as she slid into the driver’s seat. “It suits you,” he smiled. Only once she had started the engine did Balthazar walk back to the Audi, a heavy weight burdening his heart.

Rowena made small talk with the Fae as she drove. Kellan was polite, but distracted, and Rowena eventually fell silent. It would be nice to have mindless conversation to keep her mind off Jonas and the danger he was in, but she sensed that the Fae were too lost in their own thoughts to indulge her. Instead, she turned on the stereo and focused on the road ahead. She had no idea what make of car she was driving, but it was a far cry from her battered old truck. From what she could tell, all of Lenora’s cars were top of the range and this one was a pleasure to drive, but, even so, Rowena missed her truck. She wondered where the other gypsies were now, if they were even alive. Cara had explained that Charlotte had let the others go after she had promised to track Rowena, but Rowena doubted that the vampire had made good on her promise. If she were to admit it, Rowena strongly suspected their friends were dead. She only hoped that Cara, who was back at the farmhouse with Cosima, never came to the same conclusion.

The miles passed slowly and Rowena checked the mirrors every few minutes, comforted by the sight of Balthazar’s car right behind them. The older Fae woman, Evangeline, sat directly in her line of sight when she glanced in the rear-view mirror but Rowena paid her no heed, until she lifted her eyes to the mirror and saw that Evangeline had frozen, sitting unnaturally still in her chair. Her mouth was slightly open, her opaque eyes fixed on something that no one else could see.

“Kellan!” Rowena yelled, jerking her head back toward the older woman in a panic. The car swerved slightly to the left as she did so and Rowena quickly straightened up, jerking the steering wheel back to the right. Balthazar flashed his lights behind them, no doubt panicking. Rowena eased her foot off the gas, preparing to pull over, but Kellan placed a warm reassuring hand on her arm.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “She’s okay.”

“But...” Rowena glanced back into the mirror and, to her surprise, Evangeline looked perfectly normal. She sat upright in her seat gazing out of the window as though nothing had happened.

Disconcerted, Rowena nevertheless flashed her hazard lights three times, letting Balthazar know that everything was fine.

Chapter 26

True to his word, Drake arrived only hours after Quinn and the others had landed in the relative safety of the woods, not far from the old gypsy clearing. It was mid-morning, so there was no threat of any vampires stumbling across them. Quinn sensed him coming, her headache increasing the nearer he got.

Stay where you are, she told him, not wanting the others to witness her weakness. I’ll come to you.

He was waiting for her beside a small stream. It was the same stream the herd had drunk from when they had first fled the City and, when she came across it, Quinn was reminded poignantly of that day. She stood a few yards away from Drake, far enough that they could speak aloud to one another and close enough that the pain was almost unbearable. Immediately her mind was flooded with his thoughts. She knew how seeing her in the flesh lifted a weight from his shoulders that he had been carrying since she was hurt. She also knew that the agony of being near her was worth it for him to see for himself that she really was all right.

The others are on their way. The words seemed so insignificant, but he didn’t know what else to say. Quinn, however, was no longer concerned with hiding her feelings. I’m glad you’re here.

I know. He tapped his temple with his finger and she realised they were still communicating silently. Clearing her throat, she spoke her next words aloud.

“You can’t be near me when we go down there.”

He pondered this for a moment, concentrating intently. When he closed his eyes, he saw himself, through her eyes, the left side of his face in shadow and the stream bubbling innocently beside him. Quinn sensed him in her mind and she smiled.

“I’ll be there,” he said.

“It’ll be nice having you with me, even if it’s only in my head.” The small, secret smile that she loved lifted the corners of his mouth.

“I have something for you.” He gestured at a rectangular box at his feet.

“What is it?”

“I have no idea. It’s from Lenora. She wanted you to have it.”

“Well,” she laughed, waving her hand in circles. “Open it!”

Drake bent down and tore open the heavy cardboard as though it was paper. As he peered inside the package Quinn saw his smile widen and then he pulled out a small, state-of-the-art, fully assembled compact crossbow, followed by an aluminium tube which probably contained the bolts.

“Oh!” Quinn gave a gasp of excitement.

“I’m assuming you know what this is?’ Drake asked, holding it up.

“It’s a pistol crossbow.”

“And I take it, from your tone, that you like it?”

“It’s self-cocking, which means it only takes a second to reload and it fires with the simple touch of the trigger. What’s not to like?”

“Right,” Drake lowered the weapon to the floor at his feet. “Well, just don’t point it at me.”

Quinn laughed out loud at that, but her laughter faded on the wind as Drake’s expression darkened. She probed his mind but, before she could pinpoint what was troubling him, he spoke.

“Quinn. Daniel told me about the prophecy… about the choice you might have to make...”

“I don’t believe it,” she interrupted immediately. “The only vampires who need to die tonight are those who stand against us.” She should have known that he wouldn’t let the subject go that easily. “If it is true,” he said, “you need to do the right thing. I don’t want you to feel torn. My life isn’t worth the lives of so many.”

“It is to me,” she admitted boldly. “And I don’t care what arrangement you may have with my father – consider it cancelled. I won’t lose you.”

Drake’s breath caught in his throat. In that moment he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he loved this woman beyond any human comprehension. And with that realisation came the knowledge that he had to tell her the truth, finally. For some reason the bond had not revealed his deepest secret, but he wanted her to hear it from his own lips. Before that, though, there was something else he needed to do. Throwing caution to the wind, he moved, taking a step toward her. This time Quinn didn’t stop him and he continued forward, every step causing them both excruciating pain. Eventually he stood before her, so close that he could reach out and touch her, but he didn’t. He wanted her to make the first move.

Quinn’s eyes were closed, her exquisite face contorted in agony, but she reached out both hands and took hold of his shirt, drawing him to her with a force that drove the air from their chests as their bodies collided. Reaching up, she curled her hand in his thick hair, pulling him down toward her. The instant that their lips met, a jolt of electricity passed through both of them, magnified as they felt it through each other’s mind as well as their own.

Quinn’s blood pounded in her head, merging with the pain until she thought her head might explode, but, through it all she was agonisingly aware of the taste of his lips and the gentle sweeping motion of his tongue as it explored her mouth. She felt the points of his fangs and ran her tongue over them. Drake groaned, his arms dropping to her waist. Gently, he pushed her back, forcing them apart. Quinn couldn’t take another second, all her passion driven out as the pain consumed her and she dropped to her knees as Drake blurred away from her. One second he was holding her in his arms and the next he was back between the trees, his chest heaving. His green eyes were haunted, the torture of the bond crucifying him just as it was her. Quinn remembered the first time she had seen those eyes. They had seemed cold and inhuman, but now they were familiar and beautiful.

She took a moment to catch her breath, waiting for the pain to subside before she could speak. Eventually, she looked up at him, her eyes mirroring his own pain. “Do you know what I wish?” she whispered.

“What?”

“I wish I hadn’t been so scared when we first met. I wish I had told you then how I really felt. I wasted so much time trying to do the right thing, trying to be the perfect Guardian. Maybe if I had just...”

“Quinn,” he interrupted, “why are you talking like this?”

“Like what?”

Like you’re saying goodbye. He spoke the words in her head as though he couldn’t bear to speak them out loud.

“Maybe I am.” The words were a faint whisper, carried to him on the wind.

“Don’t say that.” Drake’s chest rose and fell as he breathed in deeply and Quinn felt something through the bond. There was something important he wanted to say, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It was as though he had concealed it from her.

“I need to tell you something...” Drake began. A screech overhead interrupted his confession, and they lifted their heads to see a dragon streak overhead.

“It’s a Saurean!” Quinn yelled, recognising the pale plum belly. The dragons had fled Summerfeld, but this one must have stayed in the area. Quinn’s initial pleasure at seeing the beast alive vanished instantly as she remembered the Orochian. “I have to go!” she gasped, leaving no room for argument. Drake didn’t hesitate. Scooping up the crossbow, he tossed it across to her. Quinn caught it and a second later the aluminium tube. She cast one last lingering glance at Drake. There was more to say, but the Saurean screeched again and she glanced helplessly at the sky.

Go! Drake whispered in her mind, and when she turned back to the trees where he had stood, there was no sign of him.

Chapter 27

“Monique!” Quinn burst into the clearing. “Keep him on the ground!” She stopped dead as she caught sight of Monique, Liam and Oliver, all hanging on to the Orochian’s ears for dear life, trying to do exactly that. The dragon had sensed the Saurean and he was desperate to get into the air, his territorial instincts kicking in. It was clear that they would never hold him. Making a lightning decision, Quinn changed tack.

“Get on his back!” she yelled at Monique. “Get him out of here. Give me the Hawkstone and your crystal!” she added quickly and Monique pulled them from her pocket, tossing them on the ground near Quinn’s feet. “The Saurean was heading west – go east,” Quinn instructed and Monique wasted no time. She vaulted onto the Orochian’s back and Liam and Oliver jumped clear as the dragon shot skyward.

“We might need him!” Liam lamented.

“I know,” Quinn nodded gravely. “But she’ll be able to control him better in the air and the last thing we need is a dragon fight drawing attention to us.”

“What do we do now?”

“We sit tight until the others arrive.”

They moved into the woods, a short way from the clearing and not too far from the road. As the minutes turned to hours Quinn tried not to reach out to Drake. They had stolen what little time they could, but for now, it would only serve as a distraction. With no better way to pass the time, Quinn opted to educate Oliver. Aleksei had managed to grab him before he could reach the Guardians and nothing had been explained. Quinn recited passages from the Sacred Book and explained how Summerfeld had fallen, a knot forming in her chest as she recalled how they had failed in their duty to defend the City. She skimmed over their time at Lenora’s and then outlined the plan they had in place to open the Rose Gate. Oliver didn’t bat an eyelid when she told him that they had had to come to Charlotte’s in search of the crystals and that they had been fortunate enough to find him too. Already, he understood that some things were more important than the life of a single Guardian.

“To be fair, though,” Quinn grinned, “I did suspect the dungeon would survive the fire. I was sure you’d be safe.”

“How sure?’ Oliver teased.

“Pretty sure.”

“So exactly how does the gate open?” Oliver asked. Liam looked at Quinn, his brows raised.

“We don’t actually know,” Quinn replied, answering for both of them. “Eldon said that the crystals should be united in the altar, which I think is the entrance to the Rose Gate. How it works exactly, is a mystery.”

“Do you have to say some sort of spell or incantation?”

Quinn laughed. “I don’t think so. We’re Guardians, not faeries. We don’t know any spells.”

“What if it doesn’t open?”

“It will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I have to be,” she replied simply. “Releasing Wintyr is our only hope and it has to work. Also, I believe in Eldon’s magic.”

Oliver traced the white tattoo on his wrist, his finger swirling along the S-shape.

“I had that white brand for a century,” Quinn murmured, nostalgia coming over her.

“And you had this one for about a day,” Liam snorted, pointing at his black Hunter’s tattoo.

“What happened to the last Slayer?” Oliver asked. His question was innocent, born of genuine curiosity, but both Quinn and Liam fell silent, recalling Isaiah’s death.

“He was killed just a few days ago,” Quinn replied after a long pause. “He was one of the original Guardians and one of the most honourable men I have ever known.”

“I’m sorry.” Oliver seemed to sense that he had hit a nerve.

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

“How exactly are we chosen?”

Quinn frowned. “I’m not sure. The Guardians are always descendants of the original twelve families, but there has never been a clear pattern.” She hesitated before bringing up the topic she dreaded. “I couldn’t help but notice your wedding ring.”

Oliver automatically lifted his left hand to look at it and a sad smile came over his face.

“I’ve only been married six months,” he said. “Maggie and I started dating in high school. We wanted to live together, you know, but her parents are a little old school. They weren’t having any of it unless we got married; so we did.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn said, the words sounding ridiculously inadequate.

“So am I,” Oliver admitted. He was fiddling with the ring now, twisting it around and around on his finger. “I called her, you know.”

“You what?”

“Maggie. I called her just after I left, before I dumped my phone. I told her I had to go away – that I needed time. I told her it wasn’t anything she’d done but I’m pretty sure she didn’t believe me. She was crying when I hung up. I can’t get the sound out of my head.”

Quinn didn’t know what to say. Even Liam, who had remained silent throughout the conversation, looked sick to the stomach.

“Maybe once this is all over you could go back,” Quinn suggested. After all, Braddon had visited her mother frequently when she was alive and Quinn had managed to live in the realm of man for two years with the Guardians’ permission. She would do this for Oliver. Once they had opened the Rose Gate and restored the City she would advocate that Oliver be given leave to spend more time with his wife.

“I’m immortal now,” Oliver pointed out. “Maggie is going to grow old and die. It might be easier to simply leave her alone. In time she’ll move on.”

“At least you’ll get the chance to say goodbye,” Quinn said, but the words were futile and Oliver obviously didn’t want to discuss it anymore.

“Are there any other original Guardians or was Isaiah the last?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“There’s one left,” Quinn smiled, shrugging off her melancholy in favour of further educating their newest recruit. “You’ll meet Daniel later.”

“He’s quite something,” Liam added, speaking for the first time now that they were back in more familiar territory.

“He’s something all right,” Quinn teased, winking.

Daniel and the others arrived in the afternoon. Quinn hugged Braddon and Avery, although she could tell immediately that her sister was agitated. Before she could question her, however, Daniel pulled Quinn aside. “Austin and Piper are guarding the wards so we’re all here. What’s the plan?”

“We should go now,” Quinn confirmed, “while their movements are limited by the light.” Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Tristan emerging from one of the cars, Garrett keeping guard beside him. She didn’t question his presence here but it did explain Avery’s mood. Even as she watched, she saw Avery casting hateful glances at her husband. The sooner they got going the better. Quickly, Quinn introduced Oliver to the others and then called everyone to gather round.

“Has everyone got their crystals?” Quinn asked and the Guardians nodded. She noticed that they were all looking at her differently now that they had heard the prophecy. Even Liam and Monique, who hadn’t known about it before but had quickly been filled in, were eyeing her curiously. It made her feel both humbled and petrified that she might let them all down. They were relying on her. Only Oliver seemed unaffected by the news. Quinn had to remind herself that everything was new to him. He hadn’t studied the Sacred Book, so he would simply accept this information as he had everything else, as though it was perfectly normal.

At Quinn’s question, Daniel held up a small velvet pouch, containing Tristan’s, Piper’s and Austin’s crystals but before Quinn could take it from him a rustling sound reached them. As one, the Guardians stiffened, turning to face the possible threat.

“Ouch!” a familiar voice cursed, and Quinn’s eyes widened as Jonas emerged from the dense bush, followed by Channon and her pack.

Daniel found his voice first. “What in Eldon’s name are you doing here?” he demanded.

“You know why we’re here, Daniel,” Channon replied coolly. “And you can spend the next half hour reprimanding me, or you can simply accept that we’re here to help and tell us what you need us to do.”

Quinn noticed Jonas scanning the group and she moved quickly to his side.

“She’s airborne,” she murmured. “The Orochian was getting agitated so she took him up. She’s fine. And you shouldn’t be here,” she added.

“I’ll stay out of the way. I didn’t come here to do anything stupid, I just needed to be here, you know…” Quinn did know. She felt the same pull toward Drake. And because she knew exactly how Jonas felt, she let the matter rest.

Daniel and Channon were involved in a silent stand-off, neither prepared to apologise or justify their decisions.

“We’re running out of time,” Quinn cautioned, stepping between them. “Channon, the plan is to get in and out of the City before nightfall. We’re going for the Gate, obviously, so we only need to access the Cathedral. No one is venturing inside the City. Ideally, I’d prefer it if you didn’t come down there, but I’m not going to waste time arguing with you. You’re the Alpha – you can decide for yourself. What I will ask is that you give us a chance to do this alone. If we’re not back by dark then you do what you need to do.” Daniel scowled, but he didn’t contradict her.

After a long moment Channon nodded. “We’ll wait,” she relented.

“Thank you. Now,” she turned to Daniel, holding out her hand, “give me the crystals.” Taking the pouch from him she opened it and held it out. “Everyone put your crystals inside,” she instructed. Nobody argued and, one by one, the others dropped their crystals into the opening. Once all the stones were safely inside, including her own, Quinn withdrew Monique’s emerald and the Hawkstone from her pocket and added them to the rest. The velvet seemed to grow warmer, as though life had been breathed into the stones. Quinn slung the drawstring around her neck and the velvet settled snugly against her chest. The weight was reassuring, rather than cumbersome. She knew, somehow, that she should be the one to carry it. It was her burden to bear; her responsibility.

“Oliver,” Quinn beckoned him over. “You haven’t had any training and you don’t know what we’re up against. I want you to stay here. If Channon chooses to come down there, then you’re free to make up your own mind.” She didn’t need to paint a picture. If the wolves needed to come to their aid, the chances were that the Guardian would never leave Cliffdale. Oliver nodded, his eyes sombre, reflecting that he understood.

“Well, I guess that’s it, then,” Quinn nodded at those who would be accompanying her. “Let’s get this done.”

Chapter 28

The seven of them sprinted through the trees, Quinn and Daniel leading the way. Tristan was sandwiched between Liam and Garrett, on Daniel’s other side. His hands were bound, but he moved just as quickly as the others, keeping his eyes downcast as they raced across the uneven terrain. Braddon and Avery were on Quinn’s right, and it occurred to Quinn that the Ormondes were not the only strong bloodline in the Guardian ranks. The Hardens had just as much of a presence. When they reached the flat plateau that edged the boundary between man’s realm and Summerfeld, Quinn sensed Drake for the first time since she had left him early that day. Through his eyes she caught a glimpse of herself running past. The vision was fleeting, but it comforted her to know that he was close by. She turned her head in the direction he was watching from, but she saw nothing but trees and endless green. He was just inside the tree line, a shadow that she couldn’t see, but she could sense him. He wouldn’t speak to her now, not when she needed to focus, and Quinn resisted the urge to reach out to him herself. Her fingers tightened on the crossbow she held in her right hand. Between the bow, her sword and the weighted stake belt at her waist, Quinn was armed to the hilt.

Pounding onward they crested the hill that marked their final descent into the City itself. The familiar road beneath her feet gave Quinn wings and, rather than tiring, she sped up. Her Slayer instinct picked up their presence – the presence of so many vampires in one place was impossible to miss, even from this distance. The Cathedral loomed ahead, most of the windows smashed, but the majestic sight still took Quinn’s breath away. They sped up again as they approached, the Cathedral drawing them in. This place, that had been their home for so long, seemed to eagerly await their return. They weren’t going to sneak into their own home, not that it would do them any good. The vampires inside the Cathedral, at least, would have seen them by now. They would know they were coming. The Guardians weren’t trying to hide. They were storming the castle.

Vaulting up the front steps, Quinn burst through the doors first. She skidded to an impressive halt just inside the doors and the others stopped right behind her. Clustered together in the middle of the room, away from the windows, the group of vampires snarled at them, their fangs bared. Staying within the radius of light shining in through the door Quinn surveyed them all, each indistinguishable from the next.
“Which one?” she threw the question over her shoulder at Tristan. Garrett pushed him forward. Tristan considered the vampires for only a moment before shaking his head.

“He’s not here.” Quinn had hardly expected the king of all vampires to be skulking around in the Cathedral during daylight hours, but it was still a disappointment that Aleksei wasn’t here. No matter, she thought, there would be time to search for him later.

Though Aleksei himself was not present, the Cathedral showed visible signs of his destructive hatred. The Guardian table was intact, every inch of its surface covered in scrolls and texts which Quinn recognised as being from the record room, but, other than that, the rest of the hall was chaos. The statue of King Eldon had been desecrated and chunks of marble lay scattered all over the floor, interspersed with smaller fragments of rainbow-coloured glass. A quick sweep of the room and Quinn realised that his devastation had partially hidden the altar. It was no wonder he hadn’t seen the markings on the base which symbolised the key to the Rose Gate. If he had, Quinn had no doubt that the altar would have been far more heavily guarded. It occurred to her then that Tristan had, at least, told the truth about one thing. He hadn’t revealed the location of the Rose Gate. Despite everything he had done, perhaps he was redeemable.

Quinn’s sword was sheathed at her back and she held Lenora’s crossbow in her hand. Raising it to shoulder height she moved deliberately forward while the other Guardians fanned out beside her. The vampires they faced had the good sense to look alarmed, but they had nowhere to run. They hadn’t been expecting an attack and the sudden arrival had left no time to strategise. The Guardians had stormed down the hill so quickly that the vampires had had little time to do anything.

The pouch hanging around Quinn’s neck seemed to throb and pulse as though the crystals could sense the Rose Gate. Quinn glimpsed the altar again through the huddled group of vampires and her resolve strengthened. This was why they were here. Without a thought for the monsters who stood in her way, she aimed the crossbow and fired. The trigger reacted to her touch and a bolt shot straight through the heart of a lithe, swarthy vampire. Quinn had reloaded before the others knew what had hit them and she fired again before they had a chance to move. The swift death of a second vampire spurred the others into action. They separated, darting around pillars and taking cover in the shadows of the larger stone remnants of King Eldon’s statue. The other Guardians charged, leaving Quinn alone with Tristan in the safety of the light. The crossbow was only effective from a distance and if she had time to reload. As the others herded the vampires from their hiding places, Quinn took every opportunity presented. The second a vampire emerged from hiding, driven out by the fierce attack of the Guardians, she fired, over and over again, with lethal precision, until she ran out of bolts.

“Try not to hurt yourself!” she yelled at Tristan, who stood still, immobilised, in the open doorway. The sun would protect him, but she was disgusted that he hadn’t made a move to help the others. Tossing the bow aside, she unsheathed her sword, the silver glinting, casting a rainbow of colour on the floor as the sun’s rays reflected off it. “Here,” she sliced through the ropes binding his hands in one clean sweep. She couldn’t leave him entirely defenceless in the heat of a fight. If he got pushed into the shadows, the vampires would destroy him. She doubted Charlotte’s protection still applied. Tristan cringed as the sword swooped toward him. “I wouldn’t kill you,” Quinn hissed as his ropes fell away. She quickly pulled a stake from her belt and thrust it into his open hand. “I need you alive to identify Aleksei. But, if you try to run, you’re a dead man.”

Without another word she broke into a run, moving into the shadows and startling a vampire who was stupid enough to try to make a run for it. He had been headed toward the record room when Quinn intercepted him, but, as she raised the sword he snarled, crouching into a defensive pose. He lunged aside as Quinn brought the sword down, trying to avoid the lethal blade as it streaked toward him, but it sliced clean through his shoulder bone, cleaving his arm from his body. His scream of pain was cut off a second later as Quinn swung the sword wide and decapitated him.

Watch your three, Drake’s voice resonated in her head, and she twisted to the right as another vampire launched himself at her, running him through with the sword. His weight fell forward, and Quinn lifted her boot-clad foot, shoving against his chest as she pulled the sword free. A gurgling sound rose in his throat, but his body remained pale as ever. Lifting the sword, she sliced cleanly through his neck, watching with grim satisfaction as his skin started to grey.

The other Guardians were faring well, taking down the remainder of the group faster than Quinn had expected. As the last vampire fell to Braddon’s stake, a shadow passed across the doorway, and the Guardians turned defensively toward it. Quinn knew it was Drake before she had even turned around, by the shooting pain in her head, but before she could question what he was doing here, a movement to her left caught her eye.

Tristan had not made any move to join in the fray or, if he had, Quinn certainly hadn’t seen it. He stood perfectly still midway between the door and the altar, his stake held limply in his hand. He had his back to Quinn, but it wasn’t Tristan who had drawn her attention. It was Avery, creeping up behind him. Her sister had used the diversion of the fighting as an opportunity to fulfil the promise she had made Tristan. Quinn watched as Avery raised her stake. Tristan had to know she was there. He was a Guardian, after all, and he possessed all of their exceptional skills and heightened senses. Tristan finally turned around and looked at his wife. He didn’t glance up at the stake but the acceptance of defeat shone in his eyes. Quinn could not see Avery’s expression, but she knew that if Avery did this - if she succeeded in killing Tristan - she would never come back from it. She would never be able to return to being the person she once was; the sister who Quinn had loved her whole life would be gone forever.

“Avery!” Quinn heard her father’s bellow as he too spotted Avery, but Quinn knew that none of them had a hope of getting through to her.

“Drake!” she yelled instead, knowing that no-one else had a hope of reaching Avery in time. Drake moved, just as Tristan closed his eyes. Faster than Quinn believed possible, Avery brought the stake crashing down. Drake knocked Tristan aside just in time, the Guardian falling hard against a nearby pillar. In one swift motion, Drake jerked the stake from Avery’s grasp, tossing it aside. Avery’s wail of despair cut right through Quinn, tearing her up from the inside and she watched helplessly as Avery beat her fists against Drake’s chest, an acid rain of insults hailing down on him with every vicious blow. Drake’s mouth was set in a grim line and Quinn almost expected him to react to Avery’s violent attack. Instead, Drake did something that shocked Quinn more than anything she had expected. He pulled Avery toward him, his strong arms locking her in place. For a horrific moment Quinn thought he might hurt her, but then she realised he was cradling Avery against his chest as you would a child. Avery’s body went rigid for only a second, trying to escape his hold on her, and then she collapsed against him, heaving sobs wracking her shoulders. Quinn’s head filled with compassion - her own, as well as Drake’s - as, for once, they were both thinking exactly the same thing.

“Quinn!” Daniel’s voice snapped her back to the importance of the task at hand. Drake pulled Avery gently toward the door, easing the pain of the bond ever so slightly with each step. Shaking herself, Quinn turned to Garrett.

“Keep an eye on Tristan,” she instructed. Garret didn’t hesitate. Quinn had officially taken up the mantle as leader and all the Guardians heeded her every word. Garrett moved immediately over to where Tristan lay dazed and defeated on the stone floor, the stake Quinn had given him lying innocently on the ground a few feet away. Garrett gazed down at Tristan with a mixture of pity and disgust, reflecting Quinn’s own thoughts. He hadn’t even raised a hand to defend himself.

Quinn rushed toward the altar, pulling the drawstring pouch from her neck as she went. Daniel, Liam and Braddon were right behind her.

“Hold this,” Quinn handed the pouch to Daniel, who shook the crystals out onto the floor at their feet. Quinn’s fingers traced the indentations on the altar, glancing down at the stones. The intricate pattern had been cleverly designed to resemble a simple flower-like shape, but when you looked at the crystals it was easy to see where each stone was meant to be placed. The circular groove in the centre was the exact shape and size of the Hawkstone.

With a hand that trembled slightly, Daniel passed Quinn the first crystal, the small, circular aquamarine that she immediately recognised as Avery’s. Quinn’s heart constricted as the sight of it, but she held her emotion in check as she inserted the crystal into its rightful place. Next, the amber that Quinn had possessed for a century, which now belonged to Austin. A tiny garnet that made Quinn think of Piper. Emerald, tanzanite, the onyx that she had so recently passed to her father, which had belonged to Blair, one by one the crystals aligned and Quinn felt a humming within the altar. She inserted the next crystal, a ruby, then a thin amethyst fragment, and the humming increased, a force that Quinn could not explain or describe. It travelled through the altar and into Quinn’s hands as she worked. Two more crystals and then Daniel placed his diamond in her hand. Heavier than the rest, Quinn took a second to admire it for the last time before placing it in the altar. The altar was physically vibrating now and a large crack appeared at the base, through which shone a light brighter than the sun. Shielding her eyes, Quinn placed the sapphire into the last slot, the stone which now belonged to her and which represented a great loss and the monumental responsibility of the Slayer.

The vibrations were growing stronger and a loud crack rent the air as the altar split in a few places around the circular hollow, beams of light shooting in every direction, dazzling the dark interior of the Cathedral in a riot of colour.

“Hurry, Quinn,” Braddon urged. Liam had already started backing away, but her father would not leave her side and neither would Daniel. They pressed up against her, shielding her with their bodies as she scooped up the Hawkstone and placed it in its rightful place in the centre of the formation.

For a second, the entire Cathedral rumbled, shaking as though the earth beneath it had awoken from a deep sleep. Quinn got to her feet, stumbling as the ground shuddered and heaved.

“It worked!” Daniel roared, trying to be heard above the noise, but in the instant that his words reverberated around the hallowed hall, everything went completely still. The silence was deafening. The tremors stopped and the light radiating from the altar went out.

Chapter 29

Aleksei stumbled as the ground beneath his feet trembled. He had been woken by the yells of the vampires downstairs, his personal guard while he slept. Their cries of alarm filtered up to him, and he took the stairs two at a time as he thundered down toward them.

“What the hell is going on?” he roared. Nobody answered as the ground gave another buck beneath their feet, sending Dimitri hurtling toward him. Aleksei grabbed the vampire around the throat as he skidded past. Dimitri’s face had healed, but his eyes were permanently red-tinged since his encounter with the Cliffdale water.

“I’m not certain, my Lord,” Dimitri replied, wheezing slightly beneath Aleksei’s death-like grip, “but it’s coming from the Cathedral.” His bleeding eyes bulged in his face as Aleksei’s hand convulsed automatically.

Casting him aside, Aleksei stalked to the window that faced the fountain. Yanking open the curtain he caught a glimpse of the Cathedral beyond it. The sunlight streaming through the window burnt his face and he dropped the curtain back into place, his blood thundering in his veins. He had only glimpsed it for a second, but the light spraying from the glassless windows of the Cathedral had been impossible to miss.

“The Gate!” he roared, “the Guardians are opening the Gate! We have to stop them, you fools!” he screeched, spittle flying from his lips. Nobody moved, but of course they couldn’t do anything. The sun contained them in this house. Aleksei gave another shriek of rage as he realised that the Guardians were here, opening the Temple and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. “How did you not find the Gate?” he hissed at the guards around him. “We’ve been here for weeks and none of you noticed anything?”

“To be fair, my lord, we didn’t know what we were looking for,” an older vampire with long black hair replied. “And you said that the Gate wouldn’t be here...” he trailed off observing the look on Aleksei’s face. A second later, his black hair fanned out on the ground, his head ripped clean from his shoulders. Aleksei growled menacingly, daring anyone else to defy him. It was true – he had believed that the Gate would be somewhere far from here. He hadn’t believed Eldon would be stupid enough to have the gate inside the City itself, because it would make it inaccessible if the City was overrun. He had overestimated Eldon and now he was paying the price.

“What about our people inside?” he roared, his mind racing frantically to come up with a solution. He had left dozens of vampires scouring the records inside the Cathedral.

“We can only assume the Guardians have overpowered them, my Lord!” Dimitri yelled to be heard above the noise of the rumbling coming from the Cathedral, but he needn’t have worried. As quickly as it had started, the trembling stopped and a deathly hush descended upon them.

Aleksei narrowed his eyes in confusion. He listened intently but heard nothing. He wondered if the Guardians had been successful. A high-pitched moaning sound caught his attention and he found one of the many nubile young women they kept in droves for feeding purposes cowering beneath the window-sill. No doubt she was meant to be his waking snack. Aleksei seized hold of her hair, her whimpering pleas falling on deaf ears.

“Tell me what you see!” he demanded, indicating the window.

“Please,” she begged, her terrified face streaked with tears, “please let me go.” Aleksei hit her hard across the face and she gave a wail of pure, unadulterated terror.

“I gave you an order, you stupid bitch!” Aleksei pushed her toward the window. “Now open that curtain and tell me what you see.”

The woman complied, her shoulders heaving with shock and fear. Aleksei stepped back, away from the light as she pulled the curtain open.

“Well?” he demanded a second later. “What do you see?”

“No... nothing,” she gulped. “I don’t see anything.”

“The Cathedral... do you see it?”

“Yes.”

“What does it look like?”

“It... it looks like it did before.”

“No light?”

“Light?” Her confusion only fuelled her terror and she began to cry again. “You mean the sunlight?” she asked desperately.

“No, you fool!” Aleksei flung out his arm and sent her flying backward, away from the window. Gritting his teeth, he lifted the curtain for only an instant before letting it fall back into place. It was only a brief glimpse, but it was all he needed. The light he had seen before had vanished. Wondering what it meant, Aleksei could only wait to see if the Fae magic had returned.

“Give her to me,” he hissed. He needed to replenish his strength. Dimitri hauled the young woman up off the floor and shoved her forward, into Aleksei’s outstretched arms. Her final scream of terror was abruptly cut off as he sank his fangs into her neck.

Chapter 30

In the silence that followed the eruption of sound, Quinn glanced dazedly around.

“What happened?” she blinked, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

“It didn’t work,” Braddon’s voice was leaden, defeated.

“No,” Quinn shook her head, “it had to. We did everything we were supposed to do. We did everything right!” She turned to Daniel for affirmation, but he was standing frozen, staring at the altar with a look of utter desolation on his face. “Daniel!” Quinn screamed into his ear. “We did everything we were supposed to?” Still, he didn’t answer her.

“No!” Quinn screamed, rushing at the altar and crouching beneath it. “We’ll do it again. Maybe I did something wrong. Maybe there’s an order to the...” She tried to prise the crystals free, but they were stuck fast. It appeared as though they had melded into the stone itself.

“Quinn,” Braddon placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “You did everything right. There’s nothing else we can do.” He heaved a sigh as he vocalised the inevitable. “It’s time for us to run.”

“No,” Quinn sobbed and she tasted the salty tang of tears on her tongue. She hadn’t even realised she was crying. Still she scrabbled at the stone, ripping her fingernails in the process, but the crystals couldn’t be removed.

“Quinn,” Drake called from the doorway. Such was her desolation; she barely felt the pain of his presence. The agony of her failure overrode everything else, including the bond. She turned to him, her eyes haunted and hopeless. “We need to go now,” Drake echoed her father. “There’s nothing left for you to do.”

“It’s my responsibility!” Quinn insisted. “I’m supposed to do this! I’m supposed to open the Rose Gate, release Wintyr and give our people a fighting chance!”

“You are supposed to make a choice,” Drake corrected gently. “Perhaps this is it. You can choose to stay here, attempting to open that gate or you can flee and try to protect your people.”

“No,” Quinn mewled, still clawing at the altar. “It was working. We saw it!” she looked to Braddon and Daniel for confirmation, but neither would meet her eyes. “The light... the earthquake... it was working!”

“Listen to me sweetheart,” Braddon crouched next to her, pushing her sweat-drenched hair out of her face. “This is not your fault. We must have misread the Book. Maybe we got something wrong. We can come back one day, we can try again, but first we need to find the answers we’re looking for.” As he spoke Quinn watched Liam gathering up the scrolls and documents on the Guardian table in preparation for their departure.

“That won’t be necessary,” a high voice interrupted and all eyes turned to the doorway. Three members of the Fae stood on the threshold, their bows drawn. Quinn’s heart sank as she recognised Kellan and Freya. They weren’t supposed to be here. It was Evangeline, standing between them, who had spoken. Her milky eyes fixed on Quinn and a sympathetic compassion radiated from her.

“What are you three doing here?” Quinn heard the horror in Daniel’s voice, but Kellan replied calmly.

“We were needed.”

“There are some things even you don’t understand, Daniel,” Evangeline added. Keeping her eyes on Quinn, she crossed the space between them her head held high. Such was the power of her presence that Braddon backed away as she approached.

“I brought them down,” Quinn heard Monique telling Daniel, but she didn’t turn her head. “When Evangeline explained what she needed to do I brought them down. The Orochian is just outside,” Monique continued. “I can get them out quickly if need be.”

Quinn’s misery threatened to consume her. “I failed,” she croaked, staring up at Evangeline, “I failed you all.”

To her surprise, Evangeline laid a leathery hand on her cheek, warming her skin. “No you didn’t.” Evangeline corrected gently. “You did everything perfectly, Quinn. Eldon was right to choose you.”

“But the gate didn’t open.” Quinn’s tears still streamed down her face, pooling into Evangeline’s palm.

“That’s because you were missing one very crucial element,” Evangeline murmured. She lifted her hand, wiping away Quinn’s tears and Quinn noticed with a bolt of shock that Evangeline’s hand was glowing. It was subtle at first, but slowly the light spread, encompassing her entire hand and then streaking down her arm. As Quinn watched, mesmerised, Evangeline’s entire body began to glow from within.

“What...?” Quinn could only gasp as the faery’s eyes lit up, the opaque white transforming into a molten gold.

“I have carried this magic for over a thousand years,” Evangeline explained. “Magic is not meant to be checked. It is meant to be harnessed, to be used. It grows in power over time. My body has taken its toll keeping it in for so long, but this was my burden to carry, Quinn, just as yours was to travel this path.”

“You... you’ve had magic all this time?” It made sense now – why Evangeline had aged when no other faery had, why she seemed to possess unearthly skills and abilities despite her frail body. All this time, it had been magic that she contained within her.

“It was an honour Eldon bestowed upon me. He hid it within me,” Evangeline lifted her chin proudly. “It is a special magic. It serves only one purpose. To open this gate.”

All the hope that had drained from Quinn’s heart flooded back into her, overwhelming her senses.

“You can open it?” she could barely get the words out.

“I can.” Evangeline smiled. “And when I do, I hope that you finish this, for once and for all. You were chosen, Quinn. I have been waiting for you for a very long time and you are everything I could have expected and more.”

“What if I fail?” Quinn asked in small voice. “The prophecy says I could destroy us all.”

“The prophecy is what you make of it. You choose your own destiny.”

“How?”

Evangeline seemed to be glowing brighter by the second and Quinn blinked against the brightness of the light. Still, she heard the words. “Follow your heart, Quinn. Always follow your heart.”

Without any further warning Evangeline stepped up to the altar. She opened both her hands and with a small, final smile, she pressed both palms against the marble top. Instantly, the light burst from the altar and the Cathedral shuddered once more. A large piece of stone broke away from the wall nearby and landed dangerously close to where Quinn sat. Braddon darted forward, pulling Quinn to her feet and away from Evangeline. The faery’s body was engulfed in light and Quinn couldn’t look directly at her without shielding her eyes. A cry of pain emanated from the luminescence and it struck Quinn like an arrow to the heart that Evangeline would not survive. This would be her final sacrifice, just as Eldon had intended.

“Evangeline!” she screamed, and Evangeline’s head turned toward her.

“Do not fear for me, child. I will be rewarded.” The words were an echo of thought and consciousness, and Quinn realised that Evangeline was speaking directly to her mind, no doubt using the last of her magic to do so. It was different to the way Drake spoke to her through the bond. With him, the words were clear and defined. She heard them as though they were spoken directly to her. With Evangeline, it was different. It felt as though she was speaking to every single one of Quinn’s senses - her entire body feeling the words rather than hearing them. It was the first time Quinn had experienced even a fraction of the true magic of the Fae, and it filled her with song and beauty and light.

Thank you Quinn drove all the sincerity and emotion she could into those two little words. There was nothing she could say that would ever be enough.

Goodbye, Quinn.  As she heard the words, the light burst from Evangeline’s body, engulfing both her and the altar. Evangeline’s body simply vanished, eviscerated by the magic she had released. Quinn gave a sob as the light slowly faded, revealing the marble altar and nothing else.

There were shouts of confusion behind her and then her father’s hand on her arm, pulling her back, but Quinn dug in her heels, her eyes never leaving the place where Evangeline had stood. Once again, there was silence, and, for the space of a single heartbeat Quinn feared the worst – that the gate hadn’t been opened after all. Then, a grinding sound rumbled from deep within the altar and a massive fissure appeared at the top, in the exact place where Evangeline had laid her hands. As Quinn watched, the crack widened and then started moving, zigzagging all the way down to the base. Braddon jerked Quinn back just in time as the altar split down the middle. It cleaved clean apart and the two heavy slabs of marble crashed to the ground, throwing up dust and stone.

At the same moment, the light returned, brighter than anything Quinn had ever seen. It burst from the floor beneath where the altar had stood and spread rapidly. The Guardians backed away, shielding their eyes as it moved in both directions, tracing a fiery path across the Cathedral floor. The fissure widened, more light spilling from the space, and then, unbelievably, a structure began to rise from the depths of the earth. A golden gate, wrought with flowers, more beautiful than Quinn could ever have imagined. She could only watch, mesmerised, as the Rose Gate grew from the earth. When it finally reached its zenith, it was as high as the ceiling and took up almost the entire width of the hall. It was as magnificent as it was surreal. Quinn couldn’t tear her eyes away, feasting on the sight of their salvation. It was only when the light finally faded that Quinn saw the shadowy figures standing behind it.

Chapter 31

Every person in the room, Guardian, vampire and faery alike, held their breaths as a pale hand reached out and pushed against the golden bars. The Rose Gate swung open with a gentle, melodious creak. Quinn’s heart seemed to have stuttered to a halt in her chest. Her skin prickled and gooseflesh rose on every inch of her body. Quinn dropped automatically to her knees and she heard the others do the same as Wintyr emerged from the Rose Temple. Quinn didn’t know what she had expected, but Wintyr exceeded even her wildest imaginings. He was magnificent, his waist length blond hair creating a halo around his head. His pale face radiated kindness and his green eyes were alight with wisdom and purity. He glowed with health and vibrancy, and it struck Quinn that he certainly didn’t look like someone who had spent the last millennium imprisoned in a temple.

Xander followed next and Quinn’s heart filled to bursting as she gazed upon his features, so similar to his brother’s. It was then that she felt the warm breeze rush from the Rose Gate – a wind that carried immeasurable power - filling the Cathedral as the magic of the Fae was released. Quinn closed her eyes as it lifted the hair from her shoulders and bathed her in the exquisite wonder of that magic. Wintyr gazed down at them – the people who had freed him – with a small smile on his ethereal face. Quinn lowered her head as he fixed his eyes on her. She could only marvel at the fact that they had done it. They had achieved the impossible. The Rose Gate was open and the City could be restored if they managed to eradicate Aleksei. As these thoughts whirled around her head, combined by how mesmerised she was by the Fae princes, Quinn didn’t notice another figure emerging from the temple, until Braddon’s astonished gasp alerted her to the fact. The tiny form took her place on Wintyr’s other side, a look of eternal sadness marring her exquisite beauty. There was no denying who she was. Quinn had seen her likeness in the stained glass of the Cathedral for centuries. Princess Enah was alive.

While she gaped at the miracle standing before her, Quinn was vaguely aware that the light from the other side of the Rose Gate was fading. The Temple had vanished the second its inhabitants had crossed into Summerfeld territory. The Rose Temple had been a magical realm but, once opened, it dissolved, leaving behind a gate to nowhere. A simple, physical barrier in the middle of the draughty Cathedral. A reminder of what they had achieved.

“Loyal Guardians,” Wintyr announced, sweeping his arms out to encompass them all. His voice was deeper than Quinn expected, but it resonated with power and the royal blood that ran through his veins. “We owe you a great service for releasing us.” Nobody spoke, spellbound by the sight before them. “I also feel we owe you an explanation,” Wintyr continued, taking Enah’s tiny hand in his own. “My sister lives, as you can see. Forgive us for keeping this from you but my father’s guilt would not allow him to admit that he had spared her life after everything he had done.” Enah’s pale face seemed to drain of what little colour it had at his words and she cast her eyes downward, as though ashamed of her own survival. Wintyr smiled reassuringly down at her, his love for his sister clear to everyone who witnessed it.

“I feel as though I know you all personally,” Wintyr continued. “My father’s magic allowed us to sense our protectors, to know them as well as we could from within the confines of the temple. Quinn,” he added, and she gave a start of surprise at being singled out. “I believe my father would have approved of you,” Wintyr smiled graciously.

“Thank you, your Grace,” Quinn bowed her head and the Cathedral fell silent.

“This is a blessing of the highest order,” Daniel said finally, breaking the Guardians’ silence. “It is an honour to meet you, my Princes. And to see you, your Highness,” he added, addressing Enah directly, “is a miracle. You cannot know how it pleases us to find you alive and well.”

When Enah spoke, her voice reminded Quinn of crystal and birdsong. “Alive perhaps, Daniel,” she murmured, surprising them all by calling him by name, “but not well. Never well, never again.” Her words were cryptic, but before Quinn could give them any further thought, Drake’s voice sounded in her head. She had all but forgotten he was here.

I’m sorry, he said, I wanted to tell you.

There was such regret in his voice. Tearing her eyes from the Fae royals, Quinn cast a glance over her shoulder. Drake stood a few yards back, between Avery and Kellan, a disgusted expression on his face. He was the only person in the room who had remained standing, refusing to kneel before Wintyr and Quinn had an awful premonition that he shouldn’t be here. What if she had made a mistake trusting him? What if he couldn’t control himself and tried to hurt them? Drake held her gaze for a long moment, as his words echoed in her mind.

You wanted to tell me what?  Quinn asked, but she was too late. Without answering her unspoken question, Drake strode forward, throwing Quinn into turmoil. Was this the choice the prophecy had spoken of? Would he attack them and force Quinn to choose between him and the Fae royalty? Before she could even fathom who she would choose, Drake spoke, his voice confident and accusatory.

“Why?” he asked boldly. All eyes were on him as he came face to face with Enah. She was so tiny that their eyes were on the same level even though he stood a few steps below her. “Why are you not well, Princess?” he sneered hatefully. The Guardians around Quinn made a move toward him, fearing for Enah’s safety, but Wintyr raised his arm, signalling them to stay where they were.

Enah’s hand lifted to her heart, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. Her eyes. Comprehension dawned on Quinn in a flash as she recognised Enah’s eyes - the spitting image of Drake’s - and his words came back to her in a rush.

“You’re telling me you were in love with a Fae woman?”

“I didn’t say that. I said that a Fae woman loved me.”

Enah. Enah had loved Drake and she had given him the power to walk in the sun. She had imparted her magic upon him and, in so doing, had mirrored herself. Drake was Julian, after all. Quinn’s vision swam and she dropped to her knees. She finally understood how someone could die of a broken heart. She thought the pain would kill her and then prayed that it would, because Drake was well and truly lost to her. She hadn’t even known his real name.

“Julian!” The word burst from her lips in a gasp of betrayal.

“No!” The denial was louder than anything she had heard yet and Quinn lifted her head, tears of desolation spilling down her cheeks, to find Drake staring at her with a mixture of concern and regret. “No,” he murmured more gently, moving away from Enah to come toward her. Quinn felt the pain of the bond explode in her head, on top of the agony of learning the truth, and she held up a restraining hand, pleading with him not to come any closer. “It’s not what you think,” he whispered, lifting his hand and curling his fingers one by one in a graceful motion. To her astonishment, Quinn felt a breeze lift her hair, drying the tears on her cheeks.

“How...?” Quinn choked on the question. Drake had just used magic, magic that belonged only to the Fae.

“I’m not Julian,” Drake insisted, his eyes haunted. “My name is Drake Fairchild Mortaine and Enah is not my wife. She’s my mother.”

Chapter 32

Every single person in the room stood stunned, unable to move or speak, but for Quinn, Drake’s revelation was too much. Compounded with the pain of the bond, her body simply shut itself down in an attempt to protect her and she collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Daniel, like the rest of the Guardians and the Fae gathered around, understood the implications of Drake’s words. Fairchild was the family name of Eldon’s bloodline. Mortaine was Aleksei’s. Drake was Enah and Julian’s son, which made him part-vampire, part-Fae. It explained why he had always seemed such an enigma – why Daniel had never been able to really understand him. Drake couldn’t be boxed, because he belonged nowhere. In a rush, the memory of the first time he had ever laid eyes on Drake came back to him. It was the same night Daniel had killed Charlotte in an attempt to kill Drake. Drake had cradled Charlotte’s dying body in his arms and Daniel had lifted his stake, prepared to finish him off. Then Drake had lifted his head and his green eyes had met Daniel’s and, despite his rage over Emily, and his fury that Isaiah had become the Slayer, Daniel had not been able to bring himself to kill Drake. Now, after all these years, he understood why. Drake’s Fae blood demanded the Guardians’ protection, just as his vampire blood cried out for their vengeance. A shudder ran through Daniel as he realised how close he had come to murdering Eldon’s grandchild. But what had Drake been doing in man’s realm in the first place? Why hadn’t he been sealed inside the Temple with the rest of Eldon’s heirs? Daniel had a sickening feeling that the answers to these questions would explain why Drake had renounced his Fae side, and why he had so fully embraced his vampirism.

All of this streamed through Daniel’s mind in the miniscule space of time it took for Quinn’s body to hit the ground. Braddon gave a yell of warning and Avery darted forward, but Drake was quicker than both of them. In a flash he was at Quinn’s side, lifting her gently off the floor and cradling her to his chest, reminding Daniel again of that night with Charlotte. Drake’s strength and brutality were vampire traits, but his compassion was undoubtedly Fae. He seemed relieved to be able to hold Quinn without it causing either of them pain. Quinn’s mind must have shut off when she blacked out and Drake carried her quickly over to where Enah stood. Braddon followed close behind, his concern for his daughter outweighing his veneration for the Fae royalty.

“What’s wrong with her?” Braddon asked, feeling Quinn’s pulse.

“This woman and I are bonded,” Drake announced, gazing up at Wintyr. Daniel noticed that he would not meet his mother’s eyes, appealing only to her brother, to the new king. Technically, Wintyr had become king of the Fae the moment that Eldon had died, but, as he had been inside the Rose Temple when it happened, his role had never been formalised. Drake was still speaking. “The bond causes us both a great deal of pain,” he admitted.

“How can you even bear to be in the same room together?” Enah asked, knowing full well the true agony of the bond.

Drake simply refused to acknowledge her. “Can you remove it?” he asked of Wintyr.

“Why haven’t you?” Wintyr asked, his brow furrowing in alarm. “My father left instructions. You had the Book, didn’t you?” He looked around in confusion, his eyes finally coming to rest on Daniel.

Daniel felt every eye in the room come to rest on him and, for the first time, he felt anger at Isaiah for dying and leaving him to explain alone. They had made many decisions together but it seemed Daniel would be the only one apologising for any of them.

“This is my fault,” Daniel interjected, stepping forward. “I’m sorry,” he added, turning to Drake. “I should have told you sooner, but, to be fair, I only discovered the bond’s existence very recently.”

“You should have told me what?” Drake’s voice was dangerously low.

“The bond can be broken. The scrolls gave instructions.”

“The scrolls that you and Isaiah decided to filter?” Braddon’s anger was palpable but Daniel focused on Drake.

“How?” he insisted, obviously caring for little else than Quinn right now, for which Daniel was grateful.

“The same way it was formed. Through the transfer of blood.”

“Quinn is the Slayer,” Drake snarled, “and I’m a vampire,” Daniel noticed how Enah flinched at the conviction in his words, “her blood will kill me.”

“Quinn’s blood forged the bond,” Daniel corrected, “your blood will undo it.”

“My blood...” Drake trailed off, comprehension dawning. It made perfect sense. How could they have been so stupid? Shaking Quinn gently, he felt her mind stir and a dull ache slowly increased in his head as she regained consciousness. “Quinn,” he muttered into her hair, “wake up.”

Quinn’s eyes fluttered open and she immediately clapped her hands to her head, writhing in his arms as the full force of the bond hit her like a dagger to the temples. Drake didn’t hesitate, extending his fangs and tearing the soft flesh at his wrist so that his blood flowed from the wound. You have to trust me, he thought, focusing all his energy on making her understand. Drink. Lowering his wrist to her mouth, it took all his strength to hold her still as she thrashed against his arm, protesting against what he was trying to make her do. It will break the bond, he thought savagely, forcing his words into her anarchic mind.

Braddon had lent his own strength, forcing Quinn’s shoulders down, but in the instant that she registered the meaning of Drake’s words, she stopped thrashing. Drake was vaguely aware that Braddon averted his gaze as she pressed her lips to his wrist, gagging as she tried to swallow the warm blood that pooled in her mouth, but in this moment he didn’t care much for Quinn’s father’s disapproval. She was the only thing that mattered to him. Breaking the bond had been his single-minded purpose ever since the day she had confessed her feelings for him. It had been the only thing keeping them apart. Drake kept his eyes locked on Quinn’s as the bond fell away, and they both sagged in relief, a sheen of sweat gleaming on Quinn’s forehead as the pain ebbed. Infinitely slowly, Drake felt the bond disappear, until his mind was whole again and utterly his own. He felt the smallest twinge of regret for the privacy and intimacy the bond had offered, but holding her in his arms without pain was worth losing his link with her. A trace of blood glistened on her lips and Drake wiped it gently away, his eyes searching her face.

Quinn couldn’t look away, even though she wanted to. The pain in her head had eased, but the revelation of who Drake really was had made her numb. She couldn’t figure out how she felt about it and yet the only thing that seemed real to her in this moment was his eyes suspended above her. She sensed he was trying to tell her something, to beg her to stay with him and to trust him, but without the bond there was no way to know for sure what message shone in those green eyes.

“Drake,” Enah’s voice intruded on the private moment and Drake turned to face his mother, the soft expression with which he had gazed at Quinn hardening into a terrifying coldness. Lowering Quinn’s head gently to the floor he disengaged himself and got to his feet. Quinn fought the urge to pull him back, feeling a cold unfriendly emptiness in his absence. “You are not only a vampire,” Enah insisted.

“Really?” Drake drawled insolently.

“Really,” Enah said, matching his fire with a bit of her own. “You are also part-Fae.”

Quinn had pulled herself into a sitting position but she could do no more than watch, mesmerised, as she tried to make sense of it all. Enah’s words reminded her that she had never been able to sense Drake as quickly as other vampires. Even the night she had first met him at Phil’s Place, which suddenly seemed like a lifetime ago. He had snuck up on her without warning and Quinn had wondered if her Guardian instincts were fading because she had spent so much time outside of Summerfeld. It must have been his Fae blood that masked him. The same blood that allowed him to walk in the sun. He was born with the gift, passed on to him by his mother and possibly his father, who was the only other vampire to have been immune to sunlight. It also struck her that if Drake was truly Enah and Julian’s son, he was over a thousand years old. It was no wonder he was so powerful. The Fae did age, but infinitely slowly, which is why he had aged despite being a vampire since birth.

Drake’s eyes were narrowed as he glared at Enah. “I said goodbye to that part of myself a long time ago,” he replied cruelly. Enah blanched, the little colour left in her cheeks draining away.

“Wait,” Quinn got to her feet, “you mean you knew? All this time... you knew you were part faery?”

“I am a vampire,” Drake corrected, with utter conviction. “But yes, I knew who my mother was. Of course I knew. Lucian taught me just like Isaiah taught you. In fact, he probably taught me better. He certainly didn’t encourage bloodshed.” The words were cruel but Quinn sensed they served more to protect Lucian than to insult Isaiah. Nevertheless, Drake seemed to realise how it sounded and he continued far more gently. “I know your history better than you do, Quinn, although the bond was certainly not included in my education or I would’ve broken it that night in your room.”

Quinn was too shocked to blush. “But you never said anything! How could you not tell me something so important?”

Drake didn’t look in the least bit remorseful. In fact, he looked almost smug. “Firstly, I was going to tell you today,” he said.

“Oh, how convenient! Better late than never, right?”

“You know what?” he retorted sharply, reacting to her sarcasm. “I’m glad I didn’t tell you, Quinn. As far as you’re concerned, I’m thankful I didn’t tell you. If I had, how would I ever have known for sure that your feelings for me were real? That they weren’t just an extension of your blasted Guardian charm and your blind love for all things Fae? Instead, you loved me as a vampire, as an enemy. I know that it’s real and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

Quinn opened her mouth and then closed it again. The way he spoke to her was as though there was no one else in the room, but in truth they were surrounded by people and Drake had just basically told everyone that she was in love with him. She cringed when she realised he had just told his mother she was in love with him, which seemed a pretty petty thing to be worried about at this point, but there it was.

“Secondly,” Drake continued, and she suspected from his tone that this second reason wouldn’t be quite as romantic as the first. “Why would I?” He opened his arms to emphasise his question. “Why would I want to admit who I was? The unwanted son of an unholy union... it’s hardly something to boast about.”

At this, Enah interrupted, unable to contain herself a moment longer. “You were never unwanted!” she cried, her youthful face crumpling. “Never! All these years, I’ve thought of nothing else!”

Quinn sensed the Fae around her shifting in silent sympathy. Kellan and Freya, in particular, could relate, given that they had a child of their own. Drake, however, was unmoved.

“And yet I was abandoned in man’s realm while you were safely tucked up in the temple,” he mocked. Quinn wondered for a second how he dared address her so disrespectfully. Then she remembered that while Enah was her Princess, she was Drake’s mother. The rules didn’t apply to him. It was the same reason she could speak to Braddon as she did, despite him being a much older Guardian. Children didn’t have to worship their parents, no matter what their social standing was.

“My father didn’t offer Enah a choice,” Wintyr explained gently. “He imprisoned her against her will and he left you in the care of his most trusted advisor. Lucian was to raise you as his own. It was the condition of allowing you to live.”

“Don’t you dare mention that name!” Drake hissed. “Eldon didn’t give a damn about Lucian!”

Quinn heard Freya’s gasp behind her and she shook her head, trying to place the name.

“You told me about Lucian,” she announced, as the memory came back to her. “You said he was Eldon’s friend?”

“Yes,” Freya nodded, her aquamarine eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Evangeline told me that she and Lucian were Eldon’s most trusted advisors.” Quinn felt the hair on her neck stand on end. Eldon had trusted Evangeline with the magic that would save Summerfeld and he had entrusted his grandchild to Lucian. A child that no one else knew existed. “You are one of us, Drake,” Freya continued bravely. “Evangeline knew it. That’s why she spoke to you at the wedding. She knew all along, didn’t she?”

“If she was close to Lucian, she must have,” Drake replied. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Lucian was left alone to raise me while the rest of you lived safely inside the City’s walls. If he was so trusted, why wasn’t he offered a place within Summerfeld? Why wasn’t I?”

And that, right there, was the crux of his anger, Quinn thought despairingly. Drake had been abandoned as a baby. He had been an innocent child who had done no wrong, and yet he had been spurned from the very beginning by his own family. It didn’t matter that Enah had wanted him. The point was that she had allowed Eldon to take him away. Lucian, on the other hand, had cared for him like a son. A vampire had shown him more kindness than the Fae ever had. Eldon’s mistake had cost his daughter her only son and it had cost the entire Fae race their most powerful ally.

“My father cared very deeply for Lucian,” Wintyr continued, addressing Drake. “And yet, it was your father’s Hunters who killed him,” Drake sneered. “Obviously Eldon failed to mention that Lucian should be protected.”

“Oh, Drake...” Quinn breathed. She hadn’t known. It was a wonder that Drake even tolerated the Guardians, let alone protected them. It struck her that Drake must truly love her, to consort with the people who had killed his adoptive father.

“My father could not let on how important Lucian was to him,” Wintyr justified. Everyone seemed oblivious to Quinn’s inner turmoil. “Once outright war was declared, sides were taken. It was too dangerous. He had to cut all ties with the vampires. No one was to know about you.”

“Yet another reason I embraced my vampire side,” Drake hissed. “They never shunned me. They never wanted me dead. Your father would have killed me, just like he killed my father. Julian never did anything to Eldon. His only mistake was loving you,” he added, hurling the words at Enah, who flinched as though he had physically struck her.

“My father could have killed you,” Wintyr corrected, and, for the first time, Quinn heard the true power resonating in his voice. Wintyr was the rightful heir to the throne, which made him king of the Fae. “Instead, he showed you mercy. You were never supposed to exist and yet he provided you with a safe haven and a father figure. He had no way of knowing what you would grow up to be. He didn’t know if your bloodlust would consume you and he certainly couldn’t allow you inside the Temple or Summerfeld without knowing.”

“Stop it!” Enah cried, cutting off any further argument. “It doesn’t matter what our father did!” Her eyes pleaded with Wintyr before she turned to face Drake. “You are my son,” Enah insisted. Quinn could hear the desperate need for his forgiveness in her voice. Enah was hurting. Unfortunately, Drake’s compassion didn’t surface.

“I am no son of yours,” he announced coldly. “I am a vampire, through and through.”

“No,” Quinn muttered, coming to stand beside him. “You don’t really believe that.” She searched his face, finding the truth buried deep in his eyes. She was the only one who could reach him and she wouldn’t let his anger destroy him. “You never believed in the Quest. You protected the City. And you didn’t hurt me when you found out who I was.” Quinn recalled that night with crystal clarity. How he had threatened her, but let her live. How he had saved her from Sebastian only a few nights later. How he had helped her find Avery’s killer when no one else would. Even when he had betrayed her, he had never let her get hurt. Charlotte would have killed her in the battle of Summerfeld, but Drake hadn’t let that happen. “

You’re not just a vampire.” Quinn smiled, even as tears sprung to her eyes. She took his hand and squeezed it tightly, trying to convey a myriad emotions through a single touch. “You’re a ward of Summerfeld,” she smiled, reaching up and touching his face. “That’s why you helped us. That’s why you risked your life for this City. You belong with us, Drake. You belong with me.”

Chapter 33

Drake fought the urge to snatch his hand away. He didn’t want to forgive his mother. He didn’t want to forgive Eldon, or embrace Wintyr, because, in doing so, he felt as though he would be tarnishing Lucian’s memory; but Quinn was so beautiful, so compassionate, and her violet eyes shone with unabashed adoration as she gazed up at him. Her hand was warm in his, and despite everything he found himself wanting to return the gesture. He had never expected her to react this way, to choose him, and to take his side over her king’s, because that was indeed Wintyr’s role. He was no longer a prince of the Fae. He had taken his father’s place and would now reign as king of all the Fae, supreme commander of the Guardians. Drake had omitted one very important factor when he had given Quinn his reasoning for not telling her the truth. He had been afraid; afraid that, when faced with the choice, she would choose the Fae over him, and yet she wasn’t angry with Drake for his disrespect. Instead, she stood proudly at his side, facing the others fiercely, prepared to defend him. Quinn had made her choice. The prophecy had been fulfilled. Only her choice had been the right one. In choosing him, Quinn had ensured peace between them and guaranteed the fact that he would fight for her – he would fight for Wintyr. In one thousand years Drake had never known love, not true love, not until now. The bond was gone and they could be together, finally. He had spent his life fanning the flames of his hatred for the Fae who had abandoned him as a baby and left him to fend for himself in a world of violence and anger, but, in the space of a heartbeat, Quinn had torn down his walls and rid his heart of the anger he had carried for so long. Lifting his free hand, he placed it over hers, curling his fingers around her own and squeezing her hand gently.

He wanted to say something, to fix everything that was broken, but the words failed him. Instead, it was Daniel who broke the immeasurable silence.

“Your Majesty, I’m sorry to do this. I know that there are things you need to resolve but we need to get you away from this place. The City is not safe.”

“We will not leave Summerfeld,” Wintyr replied, his head held high.

“Aleksei has taken control of the City,” Daniel explained. “We believe he is still here and obviously he’s not alone. Come nightfall, Summerfeld will be swarming with vampires. I know that there is much to be discussed,” he repeated, casting a hesitant look at Drake, “but there is no time. The sun’s light is already fading.” Drake looked toward the windows, and, sure enough, the day was almost over.

“Then come nightfall, we will fight,” Wintyr proclaimed. Xander nodded beside him, but Drake felt the collective weight of the Guardians’ despair as Quinn blanched beside him.

“With all due respect, your majesty,” Daniel was practically blushing, “King Eldon himself failed to beat Aleksei. What makes you think that you will succeed where your father failed?”

Wintyr allowed himself a small, tight-lipped smile. “I do not think that at all. I cannot defeat Aleksei, just as my father couldn’t. No faery could defeat the king of the vampires.” Quinn’s eyes narrowed in confusion, her expression mirrored on the faces of all the other Guardians. “Only one man can possibly hope to save us,” Wintyr continued, his eyes finding Drake. “One who has all Aleksei’s strength, combined with all the magic of the Fae. You, Drake,” he confirmed, inclining his head at his nephew, “are our only hope.” Drake said nothing, but Wintyr continued regardless. “Our father was wrong and I am truly sorry for the suffering his decisions may have caused you. You may not accept your Fae nature,” he murmured, “but we embrace it.” A look passed between Wintyr and his siblings. “More than that, we understand its importance.”

No one was more shocked than Drake when Wintyr stepped forward, dropping to one knee and facing the room at large.

“I, Wintyr Fairchild, hereby abdicate,” he intoned, sending a gasp of astonishment through the watching crowd.

Drake focused on Wintyr’s face, but, with his extraordinary senses, he was also aware of everything going on around him. Quinn was scanning the faces around her, looking for answers, but each one mirrored her own confusion. Save for Daniel. He was mumbling something inaudible under his breath and, in the instant that Xander stepped forward, Daniel smiled, meeting Quinn’s eyes briefly before he turned back to the kneeling prince.

With Wintyr’s abdication, the Fae throne fell to Xander, the younger of Eldon’s two sons, but he didn’t take even a moment to appreciate his new position. Instead, Xander immediately mirrored Wintyr’s actions. He dropped to his knees, his words clearly audible, “I, Xander Fairchild, hereby abdicate.”

Daniel was still muttering and Drake strained his ears, trying to make out what he was saying. It seemed important. Quinn had gone stock still beside him, her entire body rigid with tension as she watched, and, in the second that Enah stepped forward, Drake finally made out Daniel’s words. He was repeating one phrase over and over, as though in a trance. When the balance is restored the war will end.  Quinn heard it too and her eyes found his.

“Oh!” she clapped a hand to her mouth, the significance of the text meaning more to her than he could possibly comprehend. “We took it literally,” she mumbled and Drake squeezed her hand as she seemed to stumble under the weight of the words. “We have always taken the prophecy literally, taking it to mean that when the vampire numbers were reduced to evenly match the wards the war would end, but that’s not the case. The balance...” she trailed off, her eyes gazing at him in a new light, “the balance is you.”

Her words made no sense and now, more than ever, Drake wished for the bond. Drake had learned of Eldon’s prophecies but he had never paid them any attention. He couldn’t make sense of what Quinn had finally grasped; the true meaning of a prophecy she had known by heart for a century. The balance referred to a person. A person who was equal parts of faery and vampire; a perfect balance of the two species, representing both sides. Drake was the balance.

“You will be restored,” Quinn said, as Enah got down on one knee and, finally, Drake understood what they were doing. They intended to grant him the throne. They believed that the throne was meant to be his.

“Stop this!” All eyes turned to watch him as he shook his head in disgust. “I don’t want your throne. I don’t want it and I sure as hell haven’t earned it.” Turning to Quinn, he prayed that she would understand. To his surprise, Quinn stepped closer to him, not seeming to care that the sun was going down, or that a veritable army awaited them when it did. Forcing him to look her in the eyes, she smiled, speaking softly so that only he could hear her.

“You don’t have to do this. You are who you are and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

Calmed by her presence, Drake considered his options. “If I don’t do this, who will defeat Aleksei?”

“I will.” Her answer was so simple, but the thought of Quinn going up against the most formidable vampire in existence terrified him more than anything else. “I am the Slayer,” she continued calmly, exposing her wrist and drawing her shoulders back proudly. “They said I would have to make a decision. This is my decision. I choose to love both the wards, and you,” she smiled up at him. “And this is the only way I can protect you both.” She began to turn away from him, to announce her intent, but Drake grabbed her wrist in a vice-like hold and swivelled her back around to face him.

“You are my life. I couldn’t survive without you and I sure as hell won’t let you do this alone.”

Quinn smiled then. A smug, satisfied smile that intimated she had expected nothing less of him. “Together then?” she asked, her eyes alight with love and acceptance.

“Together,” he agreed, lowering his head and kissing her mouth, oblivious to the audience that watched on. When they finally broke apart, Quinn grinned, stepping aside and leaving a clear path to the faeries who awaited him. Enah’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears as her son came to stand before her. Drake was still cold toward her, but, as Quinn squeezed his hand, he relented slightly.

“Before I do this, I want to be very clear about one thing,” he declared. “I do not uphold all of your values. I do not believe in your traditions. If I take the crown, things will change.”

“What things?” Wintyr asked levelly.

“The Taboo, for one thing. I don’t believe in it. It destroyed my parents’ lives and for what?”

“The Taboo was only ever in place to ensure that no species tried to take advantage of our power,” Wintyr said.

“You mean the vampires,” Drake leered. It was common knowledge that only the darkest of the supernatural creatures would ever want to take the Fae’s power for themselves.

“Yes,” Wintyr admitted, adding boldly, “but I wasn’t finished. I understand why my father created the law, but I never said that I agreed with it.”

“Your father made a lot of mistakes, Wintyr. He caused this war and there is no point in arguing that fact because even he himself realised it at the end. I will not make the same mistakes. I will not abide by laws that were created by fools and executed without question. The vampires lived in harmony with all of you before Julian’s death. Lucian is proof of that, and I will honour his memory. I believe we can have that again. I will make decisions that I see fit for everyone concerned, whether you agree with them or not. If you cannot accept this, then I suggest she stays exactly where she is,” he gestured at his mother.

Wintyr smiled and it suddenly occurred to Quinn that he had known that this would happen. He knew that Drake would challenge the old ways and bring about change. It struck her that unlike Eldon and Aleksei, Wintyr wanted peace. He didn’t want to destroy the vampires. He wanted to live in harmony with them as they had over a thousand years before. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt that Drake was the key to ensuring peace. He was not only the heir to the Fae throne, but also a prince of the vampires. He could bring about peace because he could lead both species, uniting them under his own rule. Nodding at Drake, to acknowledge that he understood and accepted his terms, Wintyr replied.

“There is one other thing you should know. The Fae age infinitely slowly, as you are aware.” Drake had been born over a thousand years ago, but he looked to be in his early twenties. “With the exception of the royal family,” Wintyr continued. “Once we come of age, we do not mature any further. The only threat to our family is a vampire attack, but, should this threat be eliminated, you will live forever, as you are now.”

Drake considered this while Quinn ran her eyes over Wintyr, Xander and Enah. They all looked to be the same age; she would never have known who was the youngest by their faces. She supposed Eldon would have been just as youthful, if he had lived.

“Pity,” Drake drawled after a brief pause. “I think I might’ve looked quite distinguished with a bit of grey in my hair.” He grinned, and Wintyr proceeded more quickly.

“You will also have the full power of the Fae. Our magic is stored within you and fills us all from your unlimited supply. We will never be as powerful as you are, although the three of us,” he gestured at himself and his siblings, “will draw more from you than the rest. It will also take some time for the magic to filter into you. If it were to flow into you immediately, you would be overwhelmed. You might not survive it.”

The thought of Drake - an already intimidating vampire - wielding that amount of power was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. Quinn, however, had no doubts. Drake would never abuse his power. He didn’t answer Wintyr, but nodded humbly instead, and Wintyr took this to mean that they should continue.

“Sister,” he prompted. The look on Enah’s face was so beautiful that it hurt Quinn to look at her. Drake might not have accepted his mother yet, but there was no doubt that she had lived a thousand years waiting for this exact moment. She held the Fae throne for only minutes, but she had held her son in her heart for a lot longer than that. When her words came they were softly spoken, but full of hope, “I, Enah Fairchild, hereby abdicate.”

The Fae throne was now empty, and the crown fell to the next in line – Eldon’s grandson, Enah’s son, and the man Quinn had fallen hopelessly in love with. Drake got to his knees as Wintyr and Xander took their place beside their sister.

“Do you accept the position of king of the Fae, ruler of Summerfeld and protector of the wards?” Enah asked, her melodic voice growing in strength.

“I accept,” Drake murmured. The three clasped hands, Wintyr and Xander placing their free hands on Drake’s shoulders and bowing their heads.

“Drake Fairchild Mortaine,” Enah announced and the hair on Quinn’s arms rose as she heard the names of both the royal families – vampire and faery – spoken aloud in this moment that would change history. “Heir to both the vampire throne and our own, we grant you our kingdom, along with all the wisdom and magic of the Fae,” Enah intoned. When she was done, she couldn’t seem to help herself and she smiled with pride and love. “Rule wisely, my son.”

The same light that had burst from the altar spilled from the hands of the three Fae royals, engulfing Drake in a fierce, blinding light. Quinn shielded her eyes, waiting for the glow to subside before she removed her hands to find Drake standing, taller than any of the others. One by one the surrounding Guardians dropped to their knees just as they had done for Wintyr. Quinn knelt, automatically, but her knees had only just brushed the floor when she was pulled upright. Drake stood before her, a frown marring his handsome features.

“You do not kneel,” he growled, “none of you kneel!” his voice rose as he addressed the others. “No Guardian should bow before anyone. You have my loyalty and my respect. We are all equals and we will all fight for a common goal. Except maybe you, Tristan,” he drawled, his eyes finding Quinn’s ex. “You’re fired.”

Chapter 34

In the silence that followed his proclamation Drake winked at Quinn. The playful gesture relieved the tension that had been building in her chest. He was going to be okay, she realised. Drake was not only going to be okay, but he was going to restore the balance and unite the vampires and the Fae. He was going to end this war and she would be right beside him when he did. Still, and even more important to her, was the fact that, despite the momentous occasion, he was also still simply Drake, and his green eyes sparkled with humour as he winked at her. Quinn fought a hysterical urge to laugh, but her amusement died on her lips as a slow clapping sounded from behind the Rose Gate.

“How very touching,” a low, hateful voice intoned and a second later a dark-haired vampire, taller even than Drake, stepped out from behind the golden bars of the gate. The resemblance between Aleksei and Drake was striking. Drake had inherited his mother’s eyes, but everything else about him was a product of his father’s genes. He and Aleksei could pass for brothers.

Before any of the others could react, Aleksei seized Xander, who was closest to him and snapped the faerie prince’s neck. A deafening hush fell over the room as the enormity of what Aleksei had just done washed over them. Thinking faster than the others, Drake grabbed Enah roughly by her slim shoulders and shoved her behind him, as Quinn reached for Wintyr, pulling him out of harm’s way before Aleksei could get to him. She moved again, sweeping up her sword, which lay discarded near her feet. Quinn wanted to rush at Aleksei and run him through, but something held her back. Aleksei emanated power and Quinn felt the icy hand of fear trickle down her spine as she scanned the room. The faces of her friends were a bitter reminder of just what was at stake.

“Aleksei,” Wintyr was pleading and Quinn heard the pain in his voice as he addressed the man responsible for the death of everything he held dear with respect. “My father is gone. He paid the price for killing Julian with his life. We do not need to carry on fighting. Let us finally end this war. No more innocent lives need be lost.”

Before Wintyr had even finished speaking Quinn knew that he had failed. Trying to invoke emotion in a heartless man was futile.

“Your father would be ashamed of you,” Aleksei sneered, as more vampires swarmed through the gates behind him and around the columns on either side. His words were intended to hurt Wintyr and they struck their target. The Fae prince recoiled, a pained expression passing over him. “I wonder if this new king of yours is as cowardly,” Aleksei mused, running his eyes over Drake. He had obviously been listening for some time before he showed himself, but Quinn wondered if he realised exactly who Drake was. It was apparent, the second Aleksei registered their similarity and he seemed to lose his train of thought as he gazed at the man before him, no doubt seeing Julian in Drake’s features but not comprehending what it meant.

“Aleksei,” Enah’s voice startled him out of his reverie and his eyes widened in shock at the sight of her. “Please,” Enah begged, her green eyes filling with tears. “I loved Julian. He was everything to me and if I could go back and trade places with him, I would.”

“And yet you live!” Aleksei roared, the sound reverberating through the dark hall. The sun had set while Drake was being crowned and now there would be no running. They would face their worst fears. They would stand and fight. “My son is dead, but here you are, safe and sound!” Aleksei continued, his fury at finding Eldon’s daughter alive and well when he had taken Julian from him was like white-hot lava scalding his skin. He had believed her dead, a just reward for Eldon’s sins – an eye for an eye – and it still hadn’t been enough to satiate his need for vengeance. Now, here she stood, perfect, beautiful, and a painful reminder that her love had been the cause of Julian’s death. Unable to control himself, Aleksei took a step toward her, his hands lifting as though he would throttle her, but Drake stepped between them, his lips curling in a savage snarl.

The sight of Drake’s fangs jolted Aleksei even more than his physical appearance had. Where he had expected a faery, stood a vampire. A very old vampire, if Aleksei’s judgement was correct.

“Who are you, boy?” Aleksei sneered.

“Drake is our king,” Wintyr explained quickly, taking advantage of Aleksei’s shock. “He is also Enah’s son... Julian’s son.” When Aleksei didn’t respond, Wintyr quickly continued, “Drake could lead us all into a new era – one without war. Our people could be united under his rule.”

If Wintyr had hoped that learning the truth about his grandson would bring about a change of heart, he had been wrong. Aleksei stared at Drake for half a second, but before he even blinked, Quinn knew that Aleksei would never accept Drake as the Fae had. Nothing but hatred glinted in Aleksei’s eyes as he fully grasped Wintyr’s plan.

“You would challenge me for my throne, boy?” he hissed, his face an ugly scowl. Drake didn’t respond, but Quinn sensed his muscles tensing as he readied himself for battle. She gripped the golden hilt of the sword tighter, glancing over her shoulder at Daniel and giving an imperceptible nod of her head. Behind her, she heard the others pulling Wintyr and Enah away, followed by the sound of stakes being withdrawn from the Guardians’ belts. She didn’t need to turn around to know that Kellan and Freya had drawn their bows. The time had come for their final stand.

Unperturbed, Aleksei continued as though he and Drake were the only two people in the room. “Do you really think you can defeat me?” he hissed, spittle flying from his lips, “Me? I have laid waste to your City! I have slaughtered thousands and yet you think you can defy me!” His voice rose in an unearthly demonic screech.

“If I must,” Drake replied calmly.

Quinn moved back to stand beside Drake. She lifted the sword and Aleksei finally seemed to notice her. His eyes fixed on the red tattoo emblazoned on her wrist. “A Faery and a Slayer,” he taunted, “am I supposed to be impressed?”

“You talk too much,” Drake drawled, shooting out his arm. He curled his hand in a slow fist and then withdrew it. Quinn gaped as Aleksei seized his throat, his eyes bulging. He opened his mouth but no sound came out as he mouthed vile, obscene accusations. “If you don’t have anything nice to say you shouldn’t say anything at all,” Drake continued, but he opened his palm and, a second later, Aleksei made a choking sound. “You’re lucky you’re family or I might not be so lenient.”

Quinn was impressed but she pressed her lips together to keep from saying so. Wintyr had warned Drake that he would possess the full power of the Fae’s magic, but he had also said it would take time to harness it. She hoped that Drake wasn’t bluffing. She wished she knew if he had stopped choking Aleksei intentionally, or if he had simply exhausted his magic for the time being, because, if this was the full extent of his power they were in a lot of trouble.

“You’re going to die, boy. Your magic is no match for me, just as your grandfather’s couldn’t save him. You’re already dead. You, your mother, your Slayer and everyone else who stands beside you.”

The Cathedral was now swarming with Aleksei’s vampires, but, even as Quinn weighed up the size of his army, she heard footsteps pounding up the marble steps outside. The next minute Lenora, the wolves, the gypsies and even more members of the Fae streamed into the Cathedral, weapons at the ready.

“Oh good, we’re not too late,” Lenora drawled clicking her neck and sizing up the opposition. “I’ve just spent the entire day in the trunk of a car. A little killing might make me feel better.”

Quinn could only stare at the allies who had come to their aid, despite being told otherwise. This is why they were different to the vampires, Quinn thought to herself. The vampires acted on Aleksei’s instructions, ruled by fear. These people had specifically disobeyed Daniel’s instructions to be here. They would fight because they were family, and because no matter what, family stuck together.

Not even a moment later, as if to prove her point, Austin and Piper sprinted inside.

“Sorry we’re late,” Austin panted.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” Daniel hissed, “the Fae magic was only released a few hours ago.”

“Yeah, well, we weren’t exactly on the farm when it happened,” Austin shrugged.

“The herd is safe,” Piper added, shooting a petrified glance at Daniel.

Quinn felt tears of gratitude prick her eyes that so many had come to help, but she had a horrible premonition that most wouldn’t survive this night.

Chapter 35

“Enough!” Aleksei roared, jerking out of his momentary shock. Quinn was surprised he had lasted this long without attempting to kill anyone. Aleksei made his move, lunging for Drake, and as he did so, his army mobilised. The Guardians sprang into action along with their own supporters, and, just like that, the battle began.

Quinn swivelled as vampires swarmed around her. Once again, their hesitancy to bite her proved to be a massive advantage. She fought back-to-back with Drake, meeting every opponent with the same sense of calm. There would be no more planning, no more second chances. This would be their final stand and, one way or another, it would all end tonight. She was acutely conscious of the deadly duel behind her as Drake and Aleksei faced off, but she forced herself not to turn around. Drake could handle himself. The others needed her protection.

She caught sight of the wolves, banded together and creating an archway toward the doors, through which Monique was escaping into the night with Jonas right behind her. Quinn knew better than to believe the girl was fleeing. Monique was fetching her primary weapon. Glancing up at the high, domed ceiling, Quinn realised they needed to get outside into the ruined remains of the City itself. The Orochian was an effective weapon, but he could do nothing unless his targets were visible and exposed. If he tried to breathe his fire into the Cathedral he would kill them all.

Daniel, who had also seen Monique’s departure, had obviously come to the same conclusion and he and Quinn started mobilising their people, forcing them toward the gaping holes where the stained glass windows had once been. There was a massive opening behind the Rose Gate, through which Quinn could see the fountain of youth and she backed up slowly, heading toward it, although every step away from Drake pained her. Her plan worked, however, and her pursuers followed. Prowling a wary circle around her they tried to find an opening to attack her without using their fangs. It didn’t take long for one brave vampire to come up with a plan. Lifting an oversized boulder of marble from the floor of the Cathedral, he ran at Quinn, no doubt hoping to smash her head in. The plan was as foolish as it was foolhardy, but Quinn admired his gumption. Unfortunately for the vampire, raising the boulder exposed his entire chest and it was the easiest thing in the world for Quinn to spear his heart with the sword.

“Anyone else got any bright ideas?” she asked the group of vampires converging around her and she could have sworn she heard Austin chuckle behind her.

The other Guardians took their lead from Quinn and Daniel, and soon everyone but Drake and Aleksei was out in the open air. Quinn caught glimpses of the two through the opening as she fought, but she could not make out who was winning, or if either was injured. She could only pray that Drake was winning. She couldn’t see Wintyr or Enah anywhere, and, despite getting the vampires outside, there was no sight of the Orochian.

On and on Quinn fought, her arms never growing tired, her body never failing her. She struck with precision and deliberation, aiming to kill, not wound, and dozens of vampires fell to her sword. It took a while before the vampires came up with a new plan. Quinn almost laughed out loud when a large, muscular blonde with tousled hair and red lipstick declared suddenly, “I don’t believe she’s the Slayer. What proof do we have?” With that, she threw herself on Quinn, sinking her fangs deep into the tender flesh in the hollow of her collar bone. Quinn was so surprised she almost dropped the sword.

“Well that worked out well,” she drawled, as the blonde disintegrated, leaving a grey streak down her arm. Her neck stung slightly and her arm was bruised where the vampire had dug her nails in to hold Quinn in place, but other than that she felt fine. She was healing already and the vampires were now so hesitant to touch her that she had plenty of time to recover. She used the breathing room to check on the others, her eyes skimming the anarchy around her.

The other Guardians were not faring as well. Piper had taken a devastating blow to the head and was being dragged out of the fray by Lenora, who took action against Piper’s attacker with venom. Tristan was doing nothing of value. Instead he ran through the crowd calling Avery’s name. Despite all his shortcomings, Quinn had to admit that, in his own twisted way, Tristan really did love her sister. Quinn could see Avery a few yards to the left, holding her own against a group of vampires. Avery fought dirty, the darkness in her allowing no compassion or honour to influence her. It was effective, if a little disturbing. Daniel and the other Hunters were wreaking the most havoc, fighting as a team, and setting their foes up for failure, but Quinn noticed that Braddon was their weakest link, his fear for his daughters overriding his focus.

Unfortunately, valour was not a vampire strong suit. Realising they couldn’t kill her easily, the vampires started moving away, opting for targets that were easier to dispose of. As the crowd around her thinned, Quinn began swinging the sword. If they wanted to give her a clear line, she would use it to the best of her ability. She rotated on the spot, the sword arcing higher and higher as she decapitated vampires left, right and centre. They tried to leap out of the way, but Quinn was too quick for them and soon she was almost knee-deep in ash.

Bursts of light lit up here and there as the Fae fought with their recently returned magic. Quinn was surprised though, that their flashes of light didn’t kill the vampires. They seemed, rather, to stun them and, as Quinn stepped over the immobilised body of a vampire on the ground, she wondered just how long the magic would hold. It wasn’t the wisest strategy, but then again, the Fae were a peaceful nation and she couldn’t expect them to kill, even if in self-defence. Quinn quickly drove her sword through the vampire’s heart. The Fae might not have it in them to kill, but she would do anything in her power to protect the people she loved.

A moment later, she heard a scream and turned to find Freya cowering over the body of Harlan, Anaise’s husband. The thought of Velkan having lost his father was heart-breaking and Quinn lost her temper.

“Stop stunning them!” she roared, seizing Freya by the shoulders and shaking her. Freya still had her bow at the ready, but her quiver was full. It astounded Quinn that the Fae would kill with their arrows but that they wouldn’t use their magic for the same purpose. “You have to kill them!” Quinn continued. “Your magic could be the only thing that can save us. For Eldon’s sake, Freya, use it!”

“We’re trying!” Freya gasped, her face a mask of fear. “It’s just not working!”

“What?” Quinn hadn’t even considered this. She assumed the Fae were intentionally holding back. “What do you mean it’s not working?”

“We draw our power from the royals,” Freya explained, “from Drake, in particular.”

“He hasn’t tapped into his full power yet,” Quinn gasped, horrified.

“Maybe,” Freya said, “or maybe he hasn’t really tried.”

Quinn’s face pinched into a hard, tight line at the implication.  “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that either he’s not strong enough to do this, or,” she tore her eyes from Quinn’s and stared straight at the ground, “or he doesn’t really want us to hurt them.”

Quinn opened her mouth to deny it, but, as she did, Freya’s eyes widened as she stared at something over Quinn’s shoulder. Leaping to her feet, Freya nocked her bow, letting her arrow fly. It whizzed over Quinn’s head and she turned to see a vampire fall just behind her.

“We’re not afraid to use our magic,” Freya insisted, gazing down at Quinn, her chest heaving, “we just don’t have it yet.”

“You’ll get it,” Quinn spoke with utter conviction. “Wintyr said it would take time for Drake to absorb it all. Just hang on and stay alive until then.”

She stayed with Freya for a while after that, terrified that something might happen to her. Quinn couldn’t bear the thought of Sage growing up without a mother. Even so, it wasn’t long before they got separated. The vampires had finally wised up and realised that, if they couldn’t bite Quinn, they could at least take her down by force and she was suddenly bombarded with adversaries, all attacking at once. Quinn fought violently against them, knowing that if they managed to pin her hands she would be in serious trouble. The stakes at her waist could just as easily be used to stake her own heart as a vampire’s, and Isaiah was proof that the sword could kill her. If her enemies got their hands on her weapons, she was as good as dead. Suddenly fighting for her life, Quinn lost track of the others. She didn’t even have time to check on what was going on around her, but she did hear Daniel shouting instructions from time to time. She felt a blessed relief when his voice rose above the sounds of the fighting, ordering the Hunters to help her. Quinn’s opponents had been getting dangerously closer to pinning her down and Daniel’s aid couldn’t have come a moment sooner.

“You looked like you could use a hand,” Daniel said, as he staked a vampire who had been sneaking up on her left.

“Indeed,” Quinn smiled gratefully.

Oliver was the first Guardian to fall. It was inevitable that many of them would not live to see the end of this night but his loss was no less painful for that knowledge. Oliver screamed as two vampires overpowered him, sinking their fangs into his neck and Quinn’s own scream pierced the night air. She saw the glint of his wedding ring as he fell and the thought of Mrs Winchester crucified her. There would be no happy reunion. Oliver would never get to say goodbye. Instead, his wife would spend the rest of her life wondering what had happened to him. Quinn felt the responsibility of his death bearing down on her. He had been untrained and completely unprepared and yet she had brought him here. Vowing that she would find his wife and she would thank her and tell her that her husband had died a hero, Quinn moved forward. She ran toward the two vampires who had bitten Oliver, determined to avenge him, but Austin was too quick for her. His stake blossomed through the chest of the first vampire and a second later, Piper followed suit with the second. Unnoticed by either of them, Quinn witnessed Austin squeeze Piper’s hand before they turned back into the battle, the adoration on Piper’s face plain to see.

With the Hunters’ help, a space had cleared around Quinn again and she took a brief moment to scan her surroundings. Those who tried to bite the Hunters met a swift end and Quinn realised why no bond had ever formed before. No vampire had lived long enough for one to form. The Hunters were ruthless, hostile, and efficient. If bitten, they focused all their cumulative energy on disposing of the threat. Quinn spun on the spot, her eyes searching for Freya. They had been separated for too long and Quinn needed to reassure herself that Freya was alive. Finally, she spotted her, standing beside Kellan. Both faeries nocked arrow after arrow into their bows, firing precision shots that had vampires dropping like flies. Quinn let out a cry of relief as she spotted the reason why they could shoot without distraction. Before them, the six werewolves had formed a solid line, creating a border which, from the look on the wolves’ faces, no vampire was getting through. Behind Kellan and Freya crouched several other members of the Fae, still trying to use their magic. It appeared they still couldn’t draw on enough power to kill but, at the very least, they incapacitated the vampires long enough for the wolves to bring them down.

Satisfied that, for the time being, Freya was protected, Quinn continued through the crowd, bringing down more vampires than she could count. She hadn’t seen the gypsies since they had stormed into the Cathedral with the Fae, and looking at the horde of vampires swarming around her, Quinn couldn’t imagine how they could possibly still be alive. She had seen Jonas leaving with Monique, but Balthazar and Rowena had definitely been inside when the fighting started. Wintyr, Enah, Balthazar, Rowena, Quinn chanted over and over in her head as she fought, praying for just a glimpse of any of them.

Quinn was still searching when she heard the familiar screech above her head and all eyes turned heavenward. Two familiar figures were clearly visible astride the Orochian’s back. Monique aimed the Orochian’s fire at the outward edges of the vampire horde, far from any of her own people. Quinn felt elation course through her, and then she spotted Lenora on the very edge of the horde that Monique was aiming for. Quinn didn’t have time to consider that what she was about to do would probably get her killed. Instead, she sprinted, screaming Lenora’s name as she ducked through the fighting, hurtling through groups of vampires and knocking them to the ground like skittles in a bowling alley. Quinn was over halfway to Lenora when, by the light of the moon, she saw the shadow of the Orochian pass through her own. The beast swooped overhead and Quinn skidded to a stop, cupping both hands to her mouth.

“Le-no-ra!” Quinn screamed so loud that her throat flamed and the veins in her neck bulged beneath her skin. Lenora was in trouble, being overrun by vampires, but her head flicked around, her eyes finding Quinn’s face in the crowd. “Run!” Quinn yelled. Lenora lifted her gaze, spotting the incoming black beast just as Quinn heard the familiar hiss that signalled the dragon’s fire. She could have sworn she saw Lenora move, but, in that instant, the flames burgeoned from the Orochian’s mouth and Quinn ducked as a wave of heat washed over her. The fire tore through the vampire ranks, incinerating at least half of them. Even from this distance, Quinn heard Jonas’s whoop of joy. She searched frantically for Lenora but there was no sign of her.

Quinn realised that she was back near the opening to the Cathedral and, in the reprieve that followed, as the vampires watched the flames engulf their companions, she risked a glance back inside. For the first time Quinn truly faltered. Drake was limping, his hand pressed against his side, where an ugly red stain was spreading across the white fabric of his T-shirt. He was moving away from Aleksei and a second later she lost sight of him as he moved out of range of her vision. Cursing, Quinn made a lightning decision, but, before she could place one foot in Drake’s direction, a high-pitched scream set her blood boiling in her veins. She knew that voice.

Scanning the crowd, she located the source of the sound and her heart literally crashed to a halt in her chest. A vampire held Piper high above his head, her body limp and her head lolling to the left as blood spurted from a vicious, ragged hole in her neck. Quinn froze, knowing there was nothing she could do, nothing anybody could do, to save her friend. A second later, Austin’s stake burst through the vampire’s chest, his face contorted in grief and rage. Quinn choked back her sob, and her heart seemed to restart, galloping in her chest as a surge of rage-fuelled adrenalin coursed through her. Sensing a movement behind her, Quinn swivelled on the balls of her feet. She grabbed the vampire who had tried to sneak up on her by the throat, hoisting him forward as she drove the sword forward, twisting it savagely left and right, cleaving through his insides until she finally sliced through his heart. Through her blind rage, Quinn became aware that all around her the atmosphere had changed. The loss of their sweetest, most compassionate Guardian seemed to push the others over some invisible line, and they attacked with renewed energy - more savage and brutal than ever before.

The hiss of more dragon fire reached Quinn’s ears as she sliced another vampire’s head clean off, and then she was running, sprinting back inside the Cathedral. Quinn’s heart ached as she abandoned her own people to save the man she loved.

Chapter 36

Drake backed away from Aleksei, every movement sending a shooting pain through his chest and torso. He still couldn’t comprehend how fast Aleksei was. Despite the combination of Drake’s vampiric speed and strength, plus the Fae magic that flowed through him, Aleksei had managed to get his hands on a discarded stake. Drake had dodged the lethal blow, but the stake had run through his side and the blood loss was debilitating. Lifting his hand from the wound, he saw it was streaked scarlet with blood. What he needed was time to heal. So far, he hadn’t been able to master his magic, but drawing on it now he lifted his hand, swiping at the air between him and Aleksei. The air shimmered and seemed to become fluid as an invisible barrier formed between them, stretching from floor to ceiling and encompassing Drake in a dome of protection. Aleksei, not realising what Drake had done and determined to finish him off, connected with the shield, staggered back and then hammered at it furiously, his evil eyes never leaving Drake’s.

“Coward!” Aleksei hissed. “Come out here and face me!”

“I’ll be out in a sec,” Drake replied, allowing himself a smug smile. He lifted his shirt to inspect the wound. It was healing fast, as he suspected. A second later, a movement caught his attention and his heart sunk into his chest. Quinn had appeared on the other side of the barrier, only a few feet from Aleksei.

Quinn realised her mistake the second she saw the transparent ripple, but it was too late. She had come to help, only to discover that Drake had protected himself and she had exposed herself to the most powerful vampire on the planet. Drake tried frantically to remove the barrier, but he was obviously weakened and it wouldn’t budge. Quinn recalled Freya telling her that the reason she and Kellan couldn’t take Jack and Ava on now that she was pregnant was because they would have to train their child to use magic. Drake might possess magic but he had not yet absorbed all of it and he had certainly not learned to master it. It comforted her that at least he was not willingly inhibiting the Fae. He would never keep that barrier up with her life in danger.

Quinn cast a surreptitious glance around the Cathedral, searching for Wintyr and Enah, but she found nothing. No vampires lingered here either, which surprised her. Aleksei must have instructed them to leave and deal with the Guardians while he dealt with Drake. She was grateful for his arrogance, because she had serious doubts about fighting Aleksei, never mind a whole horde of his henchmen in the process. She readied herself as Aleksei moved away from the force-field. She heard Drake’s voice, but she didn’t turn to look at him. One single error and she would be dead. She heard him though, banging against the invisible shield and beseeching her to run.

Instead, Quinn did the opposite. She hefted her sword high, the silver blade drying red with blood. Aleksei grinned evilly at her, his lips curling back over his fangs. Refusing to back down, Quinn glared hatefully back at him. She could still hear Drake yelling, his frantic cries for her to go, but what would be the point? Aleksei would catch her before she even reached the windowless exit. Of all the people in the world, this was the most dangerous to turn her back on.

“Hello pretty Slayer,” Aleksei crooned, taking another deliberate step toward her and away from the barrier. Quinn waited for him to come to her, knowing that he was way too fast to outmanoeuvre. Instead, she focused every ounce of her being on Aleksei, letting everything else fade away so that her world was reduced to just the two of them. She turned everything off. The sounds of distant fighting faded away and even Drake’s voice was replaced by an empty nothingness. Eerily, it calmed her, serving as an anchor. All she could see, hear and smell, was Aleksei. For so long, Quinn had kept her Slayer instincts at bay so that she would not harm Drake or Lenora. Now, she released them. She felt the power surge through her and without consciously realising it, she leered at Aleksei, her eyes glowing violet. The sword was warm in her hand, reassuring to the touch and she swung the blade in a slow arc, bringing it up so that it rested against her cheek.

Trapped within a prison of his own making, Drake shuddered as he watched Quinn morph into something terrifying. Still, he watched helplessly as Aleksei struck. Quinn was ready for him and she twisted her body as he reached her, striking out with the sword. She swiped nothing but air. Aleksei chuckled as he faced her again, their positions reversed. Drake felt his strength returning and he tried once more to remove the barrier, but his rising panic hindered his magic just as much as his weakness had. Aleksei struck again and this time Quinn couldn’t duck away in time, but she also reacted with inhuman speed of her own. Aleksei’s hand caught her shoulder, jerking her to the left as his nails bit savagely into her tender flesh. Quinn ignored the pain, twisting again and slashing out with her right hand. The tip of the sword caught Aleksei across his cheek, leaving a thin but deep cut from the corner of his eye to his chin. He froze, lifting his hand and dabbing the wound before examining his fingers with mild astonishment. An even more evil smile split his lips and Drake roared, slamming his shoulder into the barrier as if he might be able to break it with nothing but physical strength and sheer desperation. Then he froze as the scene played out before him. Like a bad case of déjà vu, he knew exactly what was going to happen but he was powerless to stop it. As Aleksei threw himself through the air, Drake watched, horror-struck and Quinn raised the sword defiantly. She had refused to run, and instead she would die.

“No!” Another voice magnified Drake’s own as an invisible shield much like the one holding him in place surged up between Quinn and Aleksei. Enah stood behind Aleksei, her beautiful face twisted into something far more sinister. She held her right hand up in front of her, holding the shield she had created to protect Quinn in place. She drew her magic from Drake but he still hadn’t absorbed it all. He could feel the magic building in him, growing by the second, but it wasn’t enough. Enah was using every ounce of her will to protect Quinn. “You are a monster!” Enah hissed, her chest heaving. “Julian would be ashamed of you!”

“You don’t dare speak to me about my son, you evil little bitch! You killed him – you and your supposed love!”

Enah smiled, her eyes finding her Drake’s. Drake couldn’t tear his gaze away as he leaned hopelessly against his invisible prison wall.

“You know nothing of love, Aleksei,” she replied simply, lifting her left hand as he lunged for her. Drake thought she would protect herself, but then he felt the invisible shield before him disappear and realised that she had used her last few seconds to release him instead. Enah’s sacrifice left her defenceless and Aleksei landed brutally on top of her, sinking his teeth into her neck. In the same instant, Drake’s head almost split open. He felt the full might of the Fae magic unleashed inside of him and he realised that Enah’s final act had been twofold. She had freed him of his prison, but she had also freed the shackles of his mind, allowing the magic to flow from a trickle to a torrent. It could have killed him, according to Wintyr, but his mother had believed he was strong enough to handle it. The magic flooded through him, a fierce heat that coursed through his entire body in the space of a heartbeat. Drake knew one blinding moment of pure agony, a hundred times worse than the bond had ever been and then his head cleared and a rush of power came over him.

Believing Quinn was still safe within her protective enchantment, Drake wasted no time. He seized Aleksei by his shoulders, pulling him free of Enah and throwing him bodily aside. He was so consumed by his mother’s selfless act and his own guilt at not realising the extent of her love for him, that he could not tear his eyes away from the blood pouring form her neck, her life ebbing slowly out of her.

“Wintyr!” he roared, desperately praying that his uncle would be able to save her. If Enah was here then Wintyr had to be close, but he didn’t show himself. For all Drake knew, Wintyr might be dead already. Clenching his hands together, he moved them through the air above Enah’s ravaged neck, trying to heal her with his own untrained magic.

Quinn knew that it was hopeless. She had realised the second Enah’s shield dropped that the Fae princess had lost consciousness, or worse, was dead. Seeing Drake’s grief as he tried to help her, filled Quinn with sadness, but she could offer him no consolation, because Aleksei was creeping up on Drake from behind and Quinn had only seconds to act.

She kicked out at Aleksei just as he coiled over a distracted Drake, preparing to pounce. Her heavy boot made contact with his abdomen and sent him reeling sideways, away from where Enah lay. Quinn ran after him, kicking him again. The force of her next blow sent him staggering even further away. Lifting the sword, Quinn positioned herself between Aleksei and Drake, who was still trying to heal Enah. Her intention was clear. Aleksei would not reach them, not unless he went through her first. Not waiting for him to retaliate, Quinn darted forward, swinging the sword high and wide. It plummeted down with an audible hiss, the blade vibrating through the air and pulsing through the golden handle into Quinn’s hands. Aleksei moved but like Quinn before, he was not quick enough. The blade scraped his chest, carving a wicked line through shirt and skin as it went.

“That’s the second time you’ve made me bleed, Slayer,” Aleksei snarled, flexing his arms.

“It won’t be the last,” Quinn taunted, swinging the blade in a slow figure of eight. Aleksei jumped back to avoid her next strike but his eyes tracked the motion of the sword as it moved, anticipating where it would stop. Ducking low just as the sword flew upward, Aleksei tackled Quinn around the waist, using his heavier body weight against her and bringing them both crashing down to the floor. Quinn gave a yelp of pain as his shoulder impacted her belly, knocking the wind out of her. She twisted, reaching in vain for the sword as it flew from her fingertips and clattered away over the stone floor.

Aleksei sat astride her, pinning her down with his superior strength and blocking her access to the stakes in her belt. Despite her valiant efforts to throw him off, Quinn couldn’t shift him. Slapping her hard across the face, Aleksei sneered, radiating in the moment of his victory. Dropping his hand to her chest, he curled his index finger up over her heart, digging painfully into her flesh. The pain of the rupturing of her skin was nothing in comparison to the pressure building in her chest and Quinn gave an involuntary cry as Aleksei pressed down, breaking a few of her ribs in the process. The crunching of bone emanated from inside her and Quinn gasped for breath. The pain that had flared would likely have subsided if Aleksei wasn’t cruelly applying even more pressure, his fingertip breaking through skin and flesh. He couldn’t bite her, not with her toxic Slayer blood, but he could rip her heart from her chest and it would seem he intended on doing just that. Even as she felt her strength failing, Quinn prayed that he would make a mistake; that her body would, as it’s final act of defiance, take his life along with it. Aleksei only needed to make the tiniest error; to spear his own flesh on a splinter of bone and her blood would ensure his death. Her hopes were futile, however, as, driven by his intellect which matched his superior strength, his movements were deliberate and precise and he was unlikely to make a mistake.

Though her pain-induced delirium, Quinn heard the whisper of wind as someone flew past them and the gentle scraping of metal on stone as the sword was retrieved, but when she shifted her head she saw nothing, only that the sword was gone. Aleksei heard it too, and he shifted, twisting around to see that Drake was no longer crouched over Enah. When Aleksei shifted, Quinn realised she could finally reach her belt, and she stretched her arm, ignoring the unbelievable pain the slight movement induced. Her fingers closed around the hilt of a silver stake and Quinn withdrew it, as quickly as she could.

Aleksei was distracted, still searching for Drake and the pressure on Quinn’s chest had eased. A moment later, it ceased entirely as Aleksei’s hand dropped limply onto Quinn’s chest, completely severed at the wrist. He howled in pain and outrage just as Drake emerged from the shadows behind him, his handsome face twisted in terrifying hatred. He looked menacing and evil, and capable of far worse things than Aleksei. Quinn lost sight of Drake for a moment as Aleksei raised his left hand, but before he could bring it down on her chest, Quinn jerked the stake upward. Her movements were clumsy, hindered by pain, but the stake pierced the muscle between Aleksei’s shoulder and elbow, passing through the flesh and protruding through the other side.

“You bitch!” Aleksei hissed, and then he spat in Quinn’s face. Seeing Drake over his shoulder, Quinn could only smile.

“Goodbye, Aleksei,” she murmured as Drake struck, his fangs finding Aleksei’s neck. Quinn had only a second to register the deranged look in Drake’s eyes and then she turned her face to the side as he ripped through tissue and bone. Blood sprayed over Quinn, warm and wet, and the metallic smell assaulted her nostrils. Through slitted eyes she saw Aleksei’s head land beside her, rolling to a stop only a short distance away and then a fine dust of ash rained down on her, sticking to the blood that drenched her from face to torso. Quinn felt the pain diminishing as her body began to shut down. She didn’t need to look to know that her chest was a mess.

“You could’ve just stabbed him,” she whispered as Drake knelt beside her, pointing weakly at the blood that drenched her clothes. “You ruined my favourite shirt.”

“Still a vampire, remember,” he replied, trying to keep his voice calm.

“I like the vampire you the most,” Quinn coughed and she could hear the death rattle in her chest. “But right now I think I need you to be a little more Fae.” If he didn’t heal her soon she wouldn’t survive, although if she was honest with herself, she probably wouldn’t survive anyway.

Chapter 37

“Quinn, just hold on,” Drake murmured, taking both of her hands. He was trying to calm himself and focus his magic. Only when he was certain he had it under control did he drop Quinn’s hands, cupping his own over the hideous hole in her chest. He could see exposed bone and mangled flesh and his vampire hearing picked up the weak and erratic thudding of her heartbeat. It was too faint, too frantic, and it took everything in Drake’s power to keep calm and keep his magic flowing into her. Slowly, he felt the warmth of the magic building beneath his hands. Quinn must have felt it too and she kept her eyes open as they glowed red with the bright light contained beneath them. Slowly, her eyes came into focus as the pain began to subside and Drake heard the clicking, crunching sounds as her bones were repaired.

For a long moment after his hands had returned to normal, neither said a word. Then, breathing deeply in and out, Quinn tentatively made a small movement, expecting it to hurt.

“You did it,” she smiled, when no pain was forthcoming. Drake nodded, but his desolation was tangible. He had saved Quinn, but not without consequence.

“Enah!” Quinn scrambled to her feet, moving over to where Drake’s mother lay. She sagged with relief when she saw that no trace of blood marked Enah’s smooth white skin. Wintyr sat beside her, doing nothing. Smiling, confused, Quinn turned back to Drake, but he shook his head sadly.

“We were too late,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. On hearing the truth, Quinn’s eyes saw what her heart had refused to believe. Enah lay completely still. There was no rise and fall of her chest to indicate breathing and her skin was far too pale and had taken on a bluish tinge. Her eyes were closed and she appeared peaceful, but the enormity of the truth was that Enah was gone. Drake’s mother was dead. She had died to save them, but they hadn’t been able to save her.

The sounds of shouting outside put paid to any mourning and Quinn forced herself to remember that while Aleksei was dead, and deservedly so, the others were still fighting.

“You can’t go out there,” Drake put a restraining hand on her shoulder as she took a step away from him. “You almost died - again! Your injuries were extensive Quinn. I don’t know if I fixed everything properly.”

“You did,” she smiled. “I feel fine – amazing actually. That faery dust is good.”

Drake sighed through his laughter. “You’re not going to listen to me, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Okay, wait for me, I’m coming with you.” He turned back to Enah and Quinn didn’t hesitate. Taking up her sword, she ran straight for the opening behind the gate.

Quinn emerged from the Cathedral to find mayhem. The battled waged on. She didn’t know how many of her own people had fallen, but she wouldn’t waste any time saving those who still fought bravely. A huge figure thrashed nearby and Quinn caught her breath. The Orochian had been caught and was screeching in pain as the vampires swarmed over him, stabbing brutally at his underbelly and gouging at his eyes with their claws. Quinn couldn’t comprehend how they had managed to bring the beast down, but she couldn’t see Monique or Jonas anywhere.

“Lenora!” Quinn yelled, spotting the vampire a few feet away. Lenora’s hair was a tangled, charred mess, her face and clothes were drenched in blood and singed in more than a few places, and she had a wild, panicked look about her. Quinn couldn’t remember ever seeing Lenora afraid. Rushing to her side, Quinn seized Lenora’s shoulders, recoiling as her fingers encountered yet more blood, oozing from the multiple bite wounds around her neck and shoulders. Quinn called her name three times before Lenora’s rolling eyes finally focused on her. “Get inside!” Quinn urged, “Wintyr is in there, he can help you.” Praying that the Fae prince was strong enough to heal her, she shoved Lenora towards Drake, who had just emerged.

“Couldn’t wait an extra second, could you?” he barked at Quinn over Lenora’s shoulder. “Damn it, Quinn, you’re not invincible!” Quinn ignored him, knowing that it was his fear for her safety driving his anger.

“Get her inside!” she yelled. “She needs help!” The sight of Lenora sobered Drake enough to shepherd her into the shelter of the Cathedral. He was gone only a moment, but Quinn had already dived back into the fray. She had no lingering effects from the severe injuries Aleksei had inflicted upon her. The Fae magic was truly remarkable. She saw further signs that Drake was getting a handle on his magic. Rather than innocent balls of light that simply stunned their enemies, the Fae were now hurling balls of white heat that set them aflame. They were still ridiculously outnumbered, but at least the Fae were no longer defenceless. Watching Freya incinerate a vampire almost double her size and knowing that their power was drawn directly from Drake, Quinn felt a surge of pride that Drake had mastered his magic. And, judging by the amount of power the Fae now wielded, he was getting stronger by the second.

Drake wasted no time. He handed Lenora over into Wintyr’s care and returned immediately to the place he had left Quinn, only to find her gone. He searched frantically but he could not see her through the mass of bodies heaving and writhing before him. Drake cursed. He had only just saved her from the brink of death and now she had thrown herself back into danger. Of course she had! She was Quinn, after all, he thought, torn between pride and frustration. Out of nowhere, a vampire came at him, fangs bared. Instinctively, Drake clenched his hand into a fist, arm stretched toward the vampire. He hadn’t given it any thought, but the vampire dropped to the ground, incapacitated. Drake walked over to him, examining him thoroughly. The vampire was not dead. His chest rose and fell and his eyes gazed unseeingly up at Drake. He was simply frozen, trapped in his own body by Drake’s spell.

Slowly, Drake pulled his magic back, feeling it move across the vampire’s body like a second skin. Dazedly, the vampire got to his feet, but Drake ignored him. He finally knew how to stop this. He stood completely still, drawing on every last ounce of the power within and then sent it coursing through his body. A white-hot heat converged in his hands, lighting them with the incandescent glow of the magic. Closing his eyes he focused only on the vampires, singling them out in the chaos, feeling their essence as he closed his fists into tight balls at his side.

When he opened his eyes he saw Quinn duelling a hideous, pock-marked vampire woman, who was as vicious as she was ugly. Drake released the magic that he had gathered inside himself and watched with relief as the vampire dropped to her knees. Her mouth went slack and her eyes glazed over. All around him vampires fell to the ground in the same manner, with no warning, or explanation. As the seconds passed he saw those who remained standing – those loyal to Summerfeld - gazing around in confusion.

“All of those loyal to Summerfeld, come here,” Drake’s deep voice murmured gently, and one by one, Guardians, faeries, gypsies and wolves moved toward him.

Quinn moved through the immobilised vampires, her eyes searching for any sign of danger. There was none. It was as though they had been put into a trance. Raising her eyes, she scanned the group moving towards Drake, noticing with a pang that Garrett, two of the wolves and at least four of the Fae were missing. The next instant she was almost knocked off her feet as Balthazar rushed forward to comfort Rowena, who sat with Liam’s head cradled in her lap, her hands pressed against his chest, trying futilely to stem the flow of blood. Liam’s unseeing eyes were open, his body riddled with bites. Quinn felt a sob well up in her chest and a second later it burst from her lips. She had never been close to Liam, but over the past few days he had been there for her – he had saved her life – and now he had given his own to protect the wards.

The Orochian groaned, a mournful lament, and Quinn heard Monique scream as she came racing out of the night, shrugging out of Jonas’s vice-like grip and hurtling to the dragon’s side. Her face was a blubbery mess, her eyes swollen, and tears rained down her cheeks as she collapsed against the Orochian’s ugly head, stroking his face with infinite tenderness.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, but Quinn searched relentlessly for the one face she desperately needed to see.

“No!” Tristan’s howl ignited her fear and Quinn broke into a sprint, leaping over kneeling vampires and bodies as she raced toward him. Skidding to a halt, her heart stopped. Tristan was cradling Avery’s body against his, rocking her back and forth as huge, heaving sobs wracked his shoulders. Avery’s eyes were closed, her dark lashes sweeping her cheeks and her face was deathly pale, reminding Quinn painfully of Enah.

“Avery,” she croaked, stepping forward and dropping to her knees beside them. “Avery!” This time, her scream was loud enough to wake the dead, and it echoed on and on in the sudden stillness of the night. Braddon seized Quinn from behind, pulling her against him and fighting back tears of his own. “No,” Quinn muttered, frantically trying to escape him as her arms reached for her sister, “No... no... no... no!”

“Shhhh,” Braddon muttered, “Don’t, Quinn, please, don’t.” Her eyes never left Avery’s face as Quinn slumped back against him, shaking her head slowly from side to side.

“No,” Quinn murmured thickly, “she can’t be... please tell me she’s not...” she trailed off, unable to find the words that would make the world right again. Tristan was still whimpering, a pitiful, pathetic mess and Quinn couldn’t bring herself to hate him, couldn’t bring herself to do anything. Leaning forward she reached out, wanting to touch Avery’s hair, to stroke her face, to have some form of contact, however futile. And that’s when Avery’s eyes opened. A flutter at first and Quinn held her breath, wondering if she had imagined it, but then, an instant later, they opened again. Quinn scrambled out of her father’s grasp, seizing Avery’s hand and praying for all she was worth.

“Avery?” she called, trying to feel for a pulse over the pounding of her own heart. “Avery!”

And then, a whisper, so soft she had to strain to hear it. “Quinn?”

“Drake!” Quinn screamed. “Drake can heal her,” she told Braddon, who reached for Avery. Tristan reacted even faster, scooping Avery up before they could stop him and pounding toward Drake with Quinn and Braddon right behind them.

Drake was watching them approach and Quinn saw him take a step forward, desperate to help, but as he did the immobilised vampires began to stir. Drake froze, channelling his energy back into holding them at bay. “I can’t help her!” he groaned. “Not yet. Get her inside! Tell Wintyr to do what he can. I’m coming!” Quinn nodded her understanding and the three raced back inside the Cathedral with Avery flopping limply in Tristan’s arms.

Chapter 38

“Be ready,” Drake warned the others who were gathered around him. The remaining Guardians drew their stakes, Monique’s heart-wrenching sobs the only sound, although she gripped her stakes tightly. Austin put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze before facing forward again. The remaining wolves’ eyes gleamed yellow and the Fae lifted their bows as they faced the mob. Only the gypsies were unarmed, but they raised their fists, prepared to do what they could.

Slowly, Drake released the vampires from his spell. He waited for them to wake but, before they could get their bearings, he spoke.

“Aleksei is dead!” he called, getting their immediate attention. “I am Drake, son of Prince Julian, and rightful heir to the vampire throne.”

“Julian had no son!” A voice called.

Drake bared his fangs as proof of his vampire nature before continuing as though no one had interrupted him. “I am also son of Enah, princess of the Fae. You have seen what my magic can do, but I have no wish to harm you. This war has raged for centuries because two foolish men could not see beyond their own pride. I will not make that mistake. We can live together in harmony. We will live in peace with one another. This is my decision and, as your king, I order you to desist. You will not harm another ward of this City. And, in return, you will live without fear of attack. The Guardians will not hunt you.”

“How can you be sure?” a voice called from the night, indiscernible from the others and yet Drake’s green eyes fixed immediately on the speaker.

“Because I am king of the Fae and I have commanded it. I am also your king, whether you like it or not,” he added.

“Aleksei is our king!” a second voice called.

“Aleksei is dead,” Drake iterated. “I challenged him for his throne and I won. The throne is mine.” He allowed himself a small smile before adding, “But if you wish to challenge me, by all means, go ahead.” The threat was indisputable but nobody made any move toward him. “I am one of you,” Drake continued, “I have lived among you for a thousand years. I have shared your beliefs and your way of life but I have never condoned the Quest and I have never believed in this war. I don’t think you have either. You have blindly followed a leader who had no other motive than a personal vendetta against a man who died over a century ago. Unlike him, I will not ask you to fight, to risk your lives for the sake of my pride. Instead, I ask that you simply live a peaceful life, one without war, without bloodshed.”

“And if we refuse?” the first speaker called out bravely. Drake smiled, a cruel, vindictive smile that made him appear more like Aleksei than ever. The similarity between them could not be disputed.

“If you refuse, you will die,” Drake murmured softly. He waited only a moment for his words to sink in. “I do not wish to harm you,” he repeated, softening the threat. “I am, after all, more vampire than I will ever be Fae, but I cannot allow this to continue. Too many lives have been lost already, on both sides. I would prefer that we do this the easy way. I will rebuild the City and restore its enchantments to protect the precious few that remain from mankind, but,” he added, as a murmur of dissent rose through the crowd, “you will not be denied access. You may live here, if you wish, or simply visit occasionally if you prefer to stay in man’s realm. You will not be cast out. We are as much a part of this world as they are,” he swept his arm across the length of people standing beside him. “You are no longer the enemy. Before Aleksei and Eldon turned on each other, vampires lived among the Fae. We can have that life again. That is my promise to you.”

He fell silent then, his desire to help Quinn blazing inside of him, but he had to be sure that they wouldn’t attack again the moment his back was turned. He watched as they began to talk among themselves, catching snippets of conversation, “Aleksei killed my brother, because he mentioned a peaceful resolution.” “He raped my sister because my mother failed to deliver a message on time”; “you saw what he did to Sloane... and Dimitri...”; “he didn’t give a damn about any of us, and how many more have to die?” Smiling to himself, Drake knew the outcome even before they did. Aleksei had ruled poorly and for that he was grateful. Still, he waited, not showing his emotion.

It happened gradually. It was the second speaker who knelt first, getting down on one knee and acknowledging Drake as his new king. Then, one by one, the others followed suit, until every last vampire before him had bowed his or her head. Drake felt the collective relief as the Guardians and wards sagged. They had been prepared to fight again, but they were exhausted.

“Go now,” Drake ordered the vampires. His voice was far gentler than before but it still left no room for disobedience. “Get cleaned up, get some rest. I will come by to speak to you all and answer any questions you may have tomorrow night. The sun will rise in a few hours. You should find cover until then.”

“What about you, my Lord?” the second speaker asked.

“My name is Drake,” Drake replied wryly, “and the sun doesn’t really bother me.” He offered no additional explanation but still they hesitated. “I gave you an order!” he snapped, and without any further delay the vampires got to their feet and headed back toward the village, no doubt returning to the homes that they had adopted as their own during their stay.

“Kellan,” Drake called, and the faery stepped forward immediately. “See to the dragon,” Drake murmured softly. Monique had already fled back to its side and the Orochian was still whimpering. The sound pained Drake but there was nothing to be done for the beast. The dragon clung to life by only a thread and, due to the extent of it’s injuries, Drake knew he couldn’t save it now. Even if he made the attempt, the sheer size of the Orochian could sap his strength and leave him powerless to help Avery. Kellan nodded solemnly, picking up the sword that Quinn had dropped in her panic over Avery. The dragon was suffering. Drake was giving him the most humane end possible.

“Stay vigilant,” Drake instructed, his eyes meeting Daniel’s. “Call me if there’s any sign of danger.” Daniel nodded wordlessly but, as Drake turned to go, he called him back.

“I was wrong about you,” Daniel said, “and I’m sorry.”

“We’ve all made mistakes,” Drake replied evenly, thinking of Blair and all the other times he had failed both Guardians and vampires. As he ran back toward the Cathedral he vowed he would never fail any of them again.

Drake found Quinn crouched over her sister, clutching Avery’s hand. “Quinn,” he said gently, “I need you to move aside.” She did as she was told, but her face was haunted, her eyes pleading. Wintyr was doing what he could, but Drake could see that Avery was in a bad state. Her bite wounds were severe, far worse than Lenora’s had been, and her body was shaking uncontrollably. “Calm down,” Drake murmured, and, even though vampire compulsion could not affect a Guardian, such was his presence that Avery’s body visibly relaxed. Cupping his hands, Drake held them over her, his eyes closed as he channelled his magic to wash over her entire body. A golden aura surrounded Avery, her skin glowing as the magic enrobed her, weaving through every inch of her and healing from the inside out. He had only just tapped into the full power of his magic when he had healed Quinn, but already he could feel it growing stronger. Miraculously, Avery’s wounds started healing immediately, knitting together until not even a blemish remained. Avery gave a small sigh as the light faded. She was still fearfully pale as a result of the massive blood loss, but otherwise astonishingly intact. She was weak, but she would survive. Tristan collapsed in a heap beside her as Avery opened her eyes. Braddon too, finally broke down, but Quinn could only stare at her sister. The look on her face was worth all the magic in the world to Drake.

“You’re okay,” Quinn smiled at Avery, tears of joy splashing from her face and mingling with the blood that still spattered her skin.

“I’m okay,” Avery confirmed, although she sounded as though she couldn’t believe her own words.

Moving away, giving Quinn her space, Drake saw Lenora shuffling toward him and an incredulous grin split his face.

“I always knew you’d make good in the end.” Lenora smiled up at him.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Drake murmured. “You knew who I was all this time.”

“Of course I knew,” she retorted, as though the matter was never in question. “Lucian was a friend of mine.”

“When you say friend...” Drake started, but then he shook his head. “No, actually don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

“Very funny,” she slapped his arm. “Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that he asked me to look out for you.”

“You did,” Drake acknowledged. “Without you, I might have walked a far darker path.”

“You never needed me,” Lenora contested. “You always had that light inside of you. You just needed someone to bring it out.” At this, her eyes fell fondly on Quinn.

“You didn’t make it easy for either of us,” Drake remarked wryly.

“Now, where would the fun have been in that?”

As Lenora walked away, Quinn stood. “You did it,” she murmured, her voice a mixture of awe and sadness. “It’s really over.”

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, perplexed. She hadn’t witnessed the vampires’ submission outside.

“Because of this,” she replied, lifting her arm and showing him her wrist. It was bare. Her tattoo was gone. The Guardians were mortal once more.

Chapter 39

They gathered together in the cornflower field, mourning the fallen, but even through the darkness, they found solace in knowing that their friends had died for a greater good. They had changed everything, had brought about peace after centuries of fighting. No revenge would be taken for their lives, but that’s not what they would have wanted.

“What now?” Wintyr asked eventually. Drake and Quinn stood hand in hand over Enah’s body which Drake had placed in the cornflower field so that she could feel the light on her face one last time before she was laid to rest. Drake wasn’t sure how he felt about losing his mother, but he would have time to deal with his feelings. He would have an eternity. He was immortal.

“Now, we rebuild Summerfeld,” Drake replied. “The dragons will need to be rounded up and returned, as will the herd. For now, though, they are safe. Starting tomorrow, emissaries will be sent out to spread the word that the war is over. Channon,” he called out to where Channon and Rafe were comforting Dominic, Perry and Reagan.

“I am sorry about Saywer,” Drake surprised them by referring to the young wolf by name. “I didn’t know him well but he struck me as being full of life. He died honourably and deserves a hero’s farewell.” At this, Perry sniffed, and Channon’s face crumpled. “I know you’re worried,” Drake added, “about the werewolf line. Only five of you remain, but Caleb and Tane survived outside of Summerfeld. There may be others. I swear to you I will not rest until we have scoured the globe for any rogue wolves and, when we find them, they will finally be brought home.”

Channon drew herself up and met his gaze levelly. “Thank you,” she said.

“What about the Guardians?” Daniel asked, his face half-hidden in shadow. Drake understood his question all too clearly. Daniel had been a Guardian for over a thousand years. The thought of going back to an ordinary human life would be impossible to accept, but the Guardians had been created to protect the wards from the vampires. Now that that threat no longer existed, their role had ceased to exist. The balance had been restored and the war was over. It was always written that when the war ended, so would the need for the Guardianship.

Drake, however, gazed down at Quinn. “I have a very good reason to keep the Guardians around,” he murmured meaningfully. “Summerfeld could do with a few brave protectors. There is, after all, still man to worry about.” Nobody believed this for a second, given that the enchantments the Fae would cast over the City would make it impossible for man to find, but nobody contradicted him. “I will recast the charm,” Drake explained, “with a few minor changes.”

“You can do that?’ Quinn asked.

“You have so little faith,” Drake chuckled. “My grandfather cast the Guardian charm. I now have his magic. Do the math, Quinn.” She grinned at the return of his old sarcasm.

“What changes?” Daniel asked, getting back to the point.

“Volunteers,” Drake explained. “Only those who wish to serve the City will be branded. I will give you what Eldon never did. You will have a choice.” He held Quinn’s gaze, a questioning look on his face.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said firmly. Drake took her hand, his thumb caressing the ball of her palm before sliding down and resting on her wrist. Quinn felt the warmth of his magic and when he released her, the white tattoo had returned.

“I missed that,” she murmured. Then a thought occurred to her. “No pain?”

“It’s a choice,” Drake reminded her. “When your heart is willing, no pain is necessary. There will also be no more Hunters,” he added, raising his voice. “And definitely no Slayer.”

One by one, Daniel, Braddon, Avery and Monique stepped forward too. They were Guardians at heart, and would not abandon their duty, whether required or not.

“You never know when another threat could arise,” Daniel murmured solemnly, as Drake branded him.

“I... I would like to be released of my duty,” Austin admitted, shamefaced. “My grandparents have nothing left and I can’t abandon them. Also, I really do feel more comfortable with a gun.”

“Of course,” Drake replied easily. “But you understand, I cannot allow you to remember any of this.”

“Seriously, I’d much rather forget,” Austin pointed out. Drake nodded, stepping forward and fixing him with a familiar stare. Quinn turned away as Drake compelled away Austin’s memories. When he was done, Austin trotted meekly away, toward the Cathedral. He would go back to his life with no memory of the role he had played in this victory. Quinn wished once again that Oliver had survived. He could have gone back to his wife after all.

“Lenora, your cars are parked nearby,” Drake grinned. “Please see that Austin gets back to civilisation safely.”

Lenora chuckled as she followed Austin. “Fine, he can take one of mine, but he’s driving himself. I am not spending another day in the trunk.”

Drake’s eyes fell on Tristan, who was hovering on the outskirts of the group, his eyes constantly drawn to Avery.

“Tristan,” Drake called, and Tristan glanced up with a hopeful expression on his face. “Sadly I cannot offer you a place here,” Drake announced and Tristan’s face fell. “It is not my decision to make,” Drake continued. Turning to Avery, he met her gaze levelly. “Avery, I leave this choice to you. You wanted him dead... I grant you permission to take his life, if that is truly what you want.” Quinn opened her mouth to protest but Drake squeezed her hand, silently pleading with her to trust him. Quinn had seen the worst of her sister and she dreaded what Avery would do now that nothing stood between her and her desire to inflict pain upon Tristan, but Drake needed her to know that she was wrong. Avery wasn’t lost. Avery cocked her head to one side, contemplating, and Quinn held her breath.

“No,” Avery announced eventually and Tristan sagged in relief. “I want you to erase his memory instead,” Avery continued. “Let him have the same punishment he wanted to foist upon me. To go back to his mortal, meaningless existence and never know what he left behind.”

“Avery, no! You can’t do that!” Tristan yelled. “What about Jack and Ava? They’re my children! You can’t make me forget my family.”

“You were going to make me forget my family,” Avery pointed out, devoid of any emotion. “Quinn... my dad... everyone here,” she threw her arms wide, gesturing at everyone gathered around her. “You betrayed me, Tristan. You don’t deserve to be a husband or a father. You took me away from my children and now I’m going to return the favour.”

Drake saw the set of Quinn’s jaw and knew that she had no qualms about Avery’s decision. It was more than Tristan deserved and she was obviously too grateful that the darkness hadn’t entirely consumed her sister that she couldn’t bring herself to feel even the slightest bit sorry for him.

“As you wish,” Drake smirked, giving Quinn a sidelong glance. He had known Avery would never go through with it. Inside, she was a good person. She had been to hell and back, but she would recover. Tristan, however, wouldn’t. He made the foolish mistake of trying to flee, but Drake caught him easily, holding him in place and erasing all memories of Summerfeld and the Guardianship.

“I’ll drive him,” Braddon offered cheerfully, leading Tristan away. “Kellan, if you want to come along, we can retrieve the herd on our way back.”

“I have someone far more important to fetch,” Kellan smiled, holding out his hand to Freya. “What do you say we go and fetch our daughter?’ he asked. Freya nodded tearfully.

“There are only five of us,” Daniel pointed out. “I assume that Camille and any newly branded Guardians’ tattoos would have vanished, too. Will more Guardians be reporting soon?”

“No,” Drake’s answer was immediate. “The charm broke the second the vampires decided to stop fighting. The war is over. The tattoos are gone, unless I specifically brand you again.”

“So... there’s only going to be five of us?” Daniel asked. The Guardians had lived so long with the knowledge that there were always twelve, that it was hard to accept such a monumental change.

“We do not need Hunters,” Drake reminded him. “And there is no need for twelve. However,” he turned around and faced the crowd before him. “I do think eight is a good number. I assume that Camille will want to stay with her daughter?”

“You got that right,” Quinn nodded. “Camille would never be separated from Monique.”

“That’s settled, then,” Drake said. “Camille will be the sixth. And,” he murmured, touching the forefinger of his right hand to his own wrist, “I will be the seventh.”

“You?” Daniel was outraged. “You are our king, you can’t go around searching for survivors and putting yourself in harm’s way. You have no heirs. If anything were to happen to you...”

“Daniel,” Drake cut him off before he could gain any more momentum. “Firstly, I go where she goes,” he placed his arm around Quinn’s shoulders and drew her closer to him. “Secondly, I am king, which means that it is my responsibility to keep my people safe. What kind of a leader would I be if I let others do all my dirty work?” he grinned then, a lazy, sexy smile that made Quinn cringe as she wondered what was coming next. “As to the lack of heirs,” Drake continued and Quinn blushed to the roots of her hair, “I’m pretty sure that won’t be a problem for much longer.”

Daniel looked as though he had been slapped across the back of the head, but to Quinn’s chagrin, Monique shrieked with laughter and within seconds the others had joined in.

“Really, dad?” Quinn grumbled at Braddon who was chuckling beside her. “You know he’s talking about you-know-what with your baby girl, right?”

“I’m pretty sure Drake is going to be the best son-in-law I’ve ever had,” Braddon teased, ruffling Avery’s hair.

“Well he’s certainly got to be an improvement on the last,” Avery agreed dryly, but her face was flushed with excitement and happiness for Quinn.

Daniel finally found his tongue. “You said you’re the seventh, but you mentioned eight,” he said. Drake knew how important the Guardianship was to Daniel, so, rather than teasing him about his single-mindedness, he nodded respectfully.

“Yes, the eighth,” he replied, “I was getting to that.” He scanned the faces around him searching for one person in particular. “Balthazar,” he called suddenly. The gypsy appeared before them, a small frown creasing his forehead. “You have proven yourself and your dedication to keeping the wards safe,” Drake said. “I would like to offer you a Guardianship, should you wish it.”

Balthazar’s eyes widened in awe. His whole life he had been trying to find the City, to protect the wards as his people had done so many years ago. Now, he was being offered the opportunity to do just that, to be a part of history. Humbled, his shoulders stooped as the enormity of Drake’s offer washed over him.

“Thank you,” he whispered reverently. “You cannot know how much this means to me.”

Drake, far more astute than the others, gave a small wry smile. “But?” he asked.

“But I cannot accept. I have realised that there is one thing that is more important than my Quest and that is my family.” He held out his arm and Rowena rushed to his side, tears streaking her filthy face. “I choose you,” he muttered into her dark hair, and she gave a sob.

“That is a very wise decision,” Drake smiled. “And of course, you are both welcome to stay. You are invited to live among us until you leave this world. I would also recommend water from the fountain, which might ensure you are with us for a lot longer than you would expect.”

“Thank you.” Balthazar raised his head high. “We would be honoured. And if you would consider it, I would like to ask one more thing of you.”

“Anything,” Drake replied.

“I cannot live without my wife,” Balthazar announced, “but I am not the only Blackman here. My son, Jonas,” he gestured to where Jonas stood, hugging Monique, “is in love with a Guardian. It makes sense to me that he should be by her side, always. I ask you to consider allowing him to take my place.”

As Drake turned to reflect on Jonas, the boy met his gaze levelly over Monique’s head, standing tall and not at all intimidated. Monique had stopped crying, her watery eyes round with the mere possibility.

“Jonas?” Drake asked, “What do you think of your father’s suggestion?”

“There would be no greater honour than to serve the City,” he replied, “and of course, staying with Monique is an added bonus.”

“It’s a no-brainer,” Monique announced, and Drake wondered if the boy knew what he was getting himself into. The young Guardian was going to be a handful. It was fairly obvious that Jonas’s decision had far more to do with Monique than the wards, but Drake suspected the boy would serve Summerfeld valiantly.

“Step forward,” he stated simply, his decision made. Jonas’s tattoo marked the last of the new Guardians. Eight brave souls who would serve the City until the end of time. Once again, Drake’s eyes were drawn to Quinn, and automatically, he reached out to touch her, still barely able to believe that he could do so without pain. The bond was broken, the war was over, and there was nothing to stop them or hold them back. Quinn was immortal again and they had an eternity stretching before them to be together.

“The City’s enchantments,” Wintyr’s voice broke through the tension mounting between them. “When shall we begin restoring them?”

Drake grinned, looking far more like the man Quinn had first met, than the King of the magical realm. “Tomorrow,” he murmured, taking Quinn by the hand. “I think I’ve done more than enough for one day. Daniel,” he added over his shoulder. “You’re in charge for the next twenty-four hours.” Ignoring the shocked faces of the others, he murmured, so low that only she could hear him. “You and I have some business to attend to.”

Quinn’s lips curled into an expectant smile and she didn’t resist, leading him instead into the City, toward her old house, where, no doubt, some vampire was about to be forcibly ejected from her bed.

Chapter 40

Quinn stood perfectly still in the courtyard as the white stallion approached. The sun was sinking and Primera’s coat sparked gold in the last rays of the day. His black eyes fixed on her and he tossed his head in warning.

“Really?” Quinn grumbled as he approached. “After everything that’s happened, you’re going to pretend you and I don’t have a special bond?” The herd had been skittish since their return to Summerfeld and Quinn suspected it would take weeks, if not months, for them to recover completely from their ordeal. Still, she raised her hand and stroked the stallion’s mane as he dipped his head to drink. His magnificent body shivered under her touch, but she continued to soothe him in low tones until he calmed down. Primera left as soon as he had drunk his fill and Quinn sat on the edge of the fountain, subconsciously tracing the white tattoo on her left wrist.

“We’re making progress, I see,” Kellan’s voice interrupted the quiet stillness. Quinn caught a whiff of jasmine and honeysuckle, and she grinned. It had been two weeks since Kellan and Freya had returned with baby Sage and Kellan had been spending so much time with the child that her sweet scent clung to him permanently.

“He’s always been sweet on me,” she teased, watching as Primera bucked his rump once before disappearing into the trees.

“Hmmm,” Kellan cocked a blond eyebrow at her, “I thought perhaps it had something to do with your being ‘her royal highness’ and all that.”

“Don’t even start,” Quinn warned. “The wedding is only next week and if you start addressing me as ‘your majesty’ I’ll have you thrown out of the City.”

Kellan laughed, the sound carrying across the courtyard and to the newly-repaired Cathedral doors where Drake stood watching her. As Quinn caught sight of him he smiled – the same smug smile he had given her the first time they met.

With Wintyr’s help, Drake had already restored the City’s enchantments and the air crackled with the full power of the Fae magic that coursed through Summerfeld. It was surreal to watch the Fae using their magic, but Quinn could see how they glowed with vitality and pure energy. Evangeline had been proof that magic should not be contained.

“How are the merfolk doing?” Quinn asked, clearing her throat and turning away from the heat of Drake’s gaze.

“They have recovered well,” Kellan replied. “The elders are still deliberating, but, with any luck, a new king will be appointed soon.”

It was only after Drake had magically siphoned the poison from Lake Avalon that the merfolk had surfaced and Daniel had informed them of the death of the mer-king who had ruled since she and Avery were children. None of the merfolk could explain why he had left the safety of the caves, but Quinn suspected he had been trying to issue a warning to the Guardians or seek help. Now she would never truly know, but, thanks to Drake, the rest of the clan would survive.

“Avery says that there’s been no new mention of any dragons on the internet for a few days, too.” Quinn still struggled to accept that Piper was gone, but Avery had been the logical replacement for her duties. Avery had always had a natural flair for technology. The Saurean she had seen in the woods had returned to the City less than twenty-four hours after the fighting had ceased, and more had arrived every day since. Kellan answered her statement, but Quinn didn’t hear what he said because Drake had started to make his way over to them. Her heart stuttered in her chest as he approached.

“Kellan,” Drake nodded in greeting, his green eyes never leaving Quinn’s face.

“Drake,” Kellan mirrored the action, his knowing grin still firmly in place. “It’s looking good.” He gestured at the Cathedral which towered above them. Hardly any trace of the damage Aleksei had wreaked remained. The Fae had restored the building to its former glory, save for one very important detail which Drake had insisted upon. The statue of King Eldon had not been mended. It was a symbol of the old ways and Drake was determined to rule differently.

“Thanks,” Drake acknowledged Kellan’s compliment, “but I didn’t do it alone.” Then, holding out his hand to Quinn, “walk with me?”

They made their way to the cornflower field, content simply to be together in the moment.

“How are you doing?” Drake asked eventually.

“You asked me that this morning.”

“I remember,” his tone was playful. “If I recall, you were naked in my bed at the time, so you might not have had all your wits about you.”

Quinn laughed. “You’ve become quite arrogant since your coronation.”

“I’ve always been arrogant,” he reminded, and then, turning serious once more, “you are okay, though? I know you’ve had a lot to deal with. And I know you’re missing your dad.”

The day after the battle Channon had asked permission for her and Rafe to leave the City, to try and search for any wolves who might remain in man’s realm. Drake had obliged, but he had insisted that a Guardian accompany them and Braddon had been only too happy to volunteer. “He’ll be back soon,” Quinn insisted. “He promised to walk me down the aisle.”

“Speaking of the wedding,” Drake drawled, “Lenora’s insisted on being involved in the planning.”

“Of course she has,” Quinn smiled. Lenora was the only vampire who had opted to stay when the others departed the City. It was too tempting for them to be around the wards and Drake had made it very clear that any vampire who acted on his or her craving would be executed immediately. Fair he might be, he was still Aleksei’s grandson and was as vicious as he was just.

“Avery’s not thrilled with being demoted, but at least they agree that Ava will be the flower girl.”

“Knowing Ava we’ll have flowers all over the Cathedral floor.”

“And Jack will probably lose the rings,” Drake agreed.

Quinn laughed. “Between Avery and Camille I’m sure they can keep the twins in line.”

Camille had returned as a full Guardian, but she still spent most of her time fretting over Monique and Avery had enlisted her help with the twins to keep her mind off her headstrong daughter. Monique was spending most of her time up on the mountains visiting the hatchlings, which had been restored to independence of sorts, with Jonas in tow. As fond as she was of Jonas, Camille didn’t feel it was proper for the two youngsters to be left alone to their own devices for any extended period of time. Jack and Ava were the perfect distraction.

“You’re not getting cold feet are you?” Drake asked and Quinn stepped closer to him, feeling the tingle of energy emanating from him. Lifting herself up onto her toes she kissed his mouth, feeling the familiar fire bloom in the pit of her stomach, despite the chill of the evening.

“Not a chance,” she murmured.

“Good,” Drake brushed her lips again. “Because I would hate for one of my first orders as king to be forcing you to marry me against your will.”

Hand-in-hand they walked slowly back to the Cathedral. A few yards from the door, Drake stopped, pulling Quinn up short. All the light seemed to have drained from him and his posture stiffened, as though he was anticipating trouble.

“What is it?” Quinn asked.

“We have company.” He strode inside and Quinn followed. At the same time, the main doors on the opposite side of the Cathedral opened and a tall vampire stepped over the threshold.

“Roberto,” Drake greeted the vampire familiarly, although Quinn could sense his wariness. “What are you doing here?”

“Sire,” he bowed low to Drake, his eyes black in the dim light. “I came to pay my respects in person.” He moved forward with lithe grace, a supercilious smirk showing the pointed tips of his fangs. “Who would have thought, Drake?” he chuckled, suddenly, and threw his arms around Drake, clapping his hand over the taut muscles of Drake’s shoulder.

“Who indeed,” Drake replied dryly. “Quinn,” he pulled her forward, “this is Roberto. Roberto, meet Quinn, my fiancée.”

“Robert, please,” the vampire groaned, lifting Quinn’s hand and planting an exaggerated kiss on the curve of her fingers. “I haven’t gone by Roberto since the 1800s.”

“Robert,” Quinn complied, fighting a century’s instinct to dislike this man simply because he was a vampire. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“So,” Robert turned back to Drake, “what shall I call you? My Lord, my Liege... or do you prefer the Fae endearment, Highness?”

“Drake is just fine,” Drake replied lightly and Quinn began to relax.

“Drake,” Robert nodded, appeased, and then, gazing around the Cathedral curiously, “would you do me the honour of granting me a tour?”

“Of course,” Drake replied, turning back the way he and Quinn had just come. Since vampires were no longer forbidden to enter the City, Drake had not restored the Gateway. The portal served as protection from mankind, but Cliffdale was no longer a separate realm from Summerfeld.

“I’ll see you at home,” Quinn murmured. Judging by their banter, Roberto was obviously a very old friend of Drake’s and she didn’t want to intrude on their reunion.

“No,” Drake’s voice was a low growl and the hair on Quinn’s neck prickled. His fists clenched as he faced Roberto again, his green eyes narrowed. Quinn didn’t understand his behaviour. Nothing about Roberto’s actions suggested duplicity.

“Why are you really here, Roberto?” Drake asked suddenly. His body was coiled tight as a snake about to strike.

To his credit, Roberto seemed unfazed. “I told you,” he replied easily, “I wanted to see for myself how far my old friend had come.” Nothing about his demeanour suggested deceit but even as Quinn’s shoulder began to relax a low growl emanated from deep in Drake’s chest.

“Drake...” Quinn hesitated.

“Bullshit,” Drake hissed at Roberto. “I’ll give you one more chance to tell me what you’re really doing here.”

Even Roberto couldn’t ignore the glow that illuminated Drake’s fingertips and he heaved a deep sigh, squaring his shoulders. “So it’s true then,” he snarled, “you are what they say. I would never have believed a vampire with your promise could be nothing but a half-breed, living among the Fae and betrothed to a Guardian, of all things,” Roberto hissed in Quinn’s direction. Drake said nothing but he had moved, subtly, positioning himself between Roberto and Quinn.

“Drake?” Quinn tried to steady her breathing, wondering if anyone else was inside the Cathedral. Her instinct to protect the wards was as strong as ever, but she only hoped that everyone had left for the day.

“You should go,” Drake told Roberto, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Go?” Roberto scoffed, dropping all pretenses. “Why would I leave when I haven’t got what I came for?”

“You will not harm anyone here,” Drake warned. “The Quest is over, Roberto. I decreed it so.”

“You decreed it?” Roberto’s voice rose hysterically. “You’ve gone soft, Drake. You are not worthy of ruling our people – you’re not even one of us.”

“How many are out there?” Drake asked calmly. “How many did you bring to stand against me?”

Roberto smirked, tight-lipped. He wouldn’t give up the information, Quinn realised, but the fact that there were vampires in the vicinity who would oppose Drake made her blood curdle in her veins. Involuntarily, she stepped forward, the magic in her tattoo willing her to protect Drake.

“Stay back, Quinn,” Drake told her calmly. “Roberto,” he sighed, sounding bored. “You have always been an idiot, but, even so, I never expected you were quite this stupid.”

The words were so serenely spoken that even Quinn didn’t anticipate Drake’s next move. Without warning, he lifted his hand and curled his fingers into a fist, bringing Roberto to his knees. The vampire glared up at Drake, but he was powerless to move.

“Have you fallen so far that you need magic to subdue me?” he hissed through clenched teeth. Drake smiled, opening his hand, and sprang forward, leaping onto Roberto’s chest. His long fingers gripped Roberto by the throat and he slowly pushed the vampire to the ground, so that his nose barely grazed the marble floor.

“I do not need magic to subdue you,” Drake growled, his fangs fully extended. He tightened his grip and Roberto’s fingers scrabbled ineffectually at his hands, his eyes bulging. Only when Roberto had given up, and his shoulders slumped, did Drake release him. He took a few gasping breaths, his hands rising to rub at his bruised neck. “I could kill you for defying me,” Drake murmured softly. “I am your king, Robert and I will not tolerate disobedience.”

“You believe you are more powerful than Aleksei?” Roberto wheezed.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Drake replied. “What matters is that you leave this place and never return. I will allow you to live, this time. Do not test me again.” With the slightest movement of his hand, Drake shattered the bones in Roberto’s hand. The vampire screeched in pain, backing away from Drake as he did so.

“Go!” Drake roared, his voice magnified with the raw power of his magic. “Get out and tell anyone who would rally against me to do their worst. A few dead vampires are a small price to pay for peace.”

“You would kill your own kind?” Roberto mumbled, horror-struck, but Quinn noticed that he had lost much of his bravado.

Drake shrugged. “If that’s what it takes.”

“We should prepare the others,” Quinn said, as soon as Roberto had scuttled out of the Cathedral. She followed Drake to the doors, watching as Roberto made his way up the dirt road and moving closer to him.

“There’s no need,” Drake reassured her, “there’s no one out there.”

“But Roberto...”

“Was acting alone,” Drake finished. “I can sense them and there’s no one else out there. You have nothing to fear from my people, Quinn, they’re mostly good, but there will always be the occasional exception to the rule. Roberto was one such exception.”

Quinn thought of Caleb and how, until he had arrived in Summerfeld, she had believed that all werewolves were worthy of her protection and she had to concede that he was right.

“You’re sure there aren’t any others?”

Drake smiled, tapping his temple. “I’m sure,” he said.

Roberto paused at the crest of the hill, turning back to survey the sight that he had coveted for so long. From his vantage point he could see the entire City stretched below him. As they watched, Quinn took Drake’s hand.

“It’s really over?” she asked quietly.

“It’ll never be over,” Drake corrected, squeezing her fingers.

“How do we ensure peace?”

“We simply demand it,” Drake replied, “for we are the Guardians.”

“The Guardians of Summerfeld,” Quinn smiled, knowing she was finally, truly exactly where she belonged.

About The Author

Melissa Delport graduated from the University of South Africa with a degree in English Literature and now lives with her husband and three children in Hillcrest, KwaZulu-Natal. She is the author of The Legacy Trilogy, The Traveler and Rainfall.

For more information visit www.melissadelport.com

A Note from the Author

Thank you for taking the time to read the Guardians of Summerfeld series. I can only hope that you enjoyed reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it. While Quinn’s journey must come to an end, I am hard at work on my next book and can’t wait to share it with you all.

If you would take the time to leave a review on Amazon I would be truly grateful!