“Why do you think that is? Why you and not any other immortals?”
“Watchers, too, huh?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “In fact, every Good Samaritan immortal I’ve ever run across begins eternity with a clean slate. Don’t get me wrong, I understand why our memories are erased. It’d be too distracting to have our pasts constantly haunting us. And I’m fine with that—or at least I was … until I realized you were different.”
I paused to think about how I should answer Minerva’s question. Was this supposed to be my moment of truth? Was I supposed to let her in on my secrets because she let me in on hers? I looked into her eyes. I examined her aura. I had yet to see anything to suggest she had any ulterior motives for trying to get to know me—to get to know any of us.
“Well,” I began slowly, “my mentor—my old mentor,” I corrected myself, “has a theory about why I got my memory back. Peter believes I’m a hybrid—that I kept certain human traits even after I became immortal—characteristics that would’ve normally been lost during the transformation process. His theory is that these traits sat dormant within me until they were later triggered by my relationship with Quinn. And these traits led to my memory retrieval, my ability to cry—”
“And your ability to survive the Servants’ attack on you,” Minerva interjected.
“I think that was more dumb luck. If Dylan and Peter hadn’t shown up, I would’ve been toast—and so would’ve Quinn.”
“I don’t think luck had anything to do with it. By the time Dylan and your mentor arrived, it should’ve already been too late to save either of you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked anxiously as a shiver ran down my spine.
“Evie, I’ve heard of immortals withstanding one bite, maybe two, during a single attack. But you? You survived four of them.”
“How—?” I looked at her in alarm.
“Dylan saw your back just after the attack.”
“Oh.”
“And Quinn? You must’ve have shielded him—or the two of you shielded each other somehow. Either way, it’s a miracle you’re both still here.”
“I—we didn’t do anything to save each other. At least, I don’t think we did.”
“Evie, a Servant’s bite isn’t just about the electrocution. They inject a nasty venom, too, which is why the bites don’t heal on their own. Even worse, when they bite—it’s like the equivalent of what I can do through touch. When they bite an immortal, they steal its life force, only they can’t use it or transfer it like I can—they just take it. One bite can drain an immortal completely in less than a minute.” She paused, as if to consider something. “I don’t know how you two did it. Maybe your connection with Quinn is already stronger than you think, strong enough to have prevented the Servants from completely draining your life force—and Quinn’s.”
“How do you know so much about all of this?” I asked.
Minerva sighed heavily, as if reluctant to answer my question.
“Have you ever been bitten?” I asked. Maybe I had more in common with her than I thought. I flashed back to Tartuf showing me the scar on his leg. Maybe we all belonged to a small, unfortunate group of survivors—the worst kind of club of which to become an honorary member.
“No. My father … he—he was a demon,” Minerva said hesitantly.
“What?” I barely whispered, not wanting to trust my ears.
“My mother was a human, and my father was a demon.”
I didn’t know what to say. My head began to spin. That all too familiar feeling of alarm mixed with nausea slammed into me, making the monster in the pit of my stomach howl—warning me that something was very wrong. I zeroed in on Quinn; he looked so vulnerably human out there in the water. Minerva could get to Quinn just as quickly as either Dylan or I could—not to mention any other creatures lurking in the ravines directly behind us … or in the lake.
Completely panic-stricken, I flew to Quinn’s side and teleported him to the Falls in less than a blink of an eye.
“What the hell, Evie?” Quinn asked in shock when we landed roughly on the grass. He bent over trying to catch his breath and fight off the nausea of the unexpected trip.
“I—I thought you might be in danger.”
“From who?”
“Minerva. Or something else out there—I don’t know, maybe something working with her.” I stood up and began pacing. I mentally retraced every conversation I’d ever had with her. I tried to remember her every motion—every smile, every look she’d ever given me. Absolutely nothing had tipped me off. But her father was a demon. For all I knew, he was a Servant! After all, she had their powers. What if she was working for them—spying on us, finding out about our plan to steal back the blood and hide Quinn? What if they knew it all?
Crap! I should’ve known better. I should’ve trusted my instincts in the beginning and refused her help. Oh, I am so going to kill Dylan.
“Evie, what are you talking about? Minerva was my Watcher. Why would she want to hurt me?” Quinn asked, walking towards the cave.
“Where are you going?” I demanded anxiously.
“Um, I’m standing here buck naked.” He looked at me like I was losing my mind.
“You don’t understand.” I followed him into the cave, not wanting to let him out of my sight for even a split second. “She told me the Servants drain immortals’ powers—just like she can.”
“So that automatically makes her one of them?” he asked as he pulled on a pair of jeans that had been tossed onto the unmade bed.
“Quinn, her father was a demon.”
He stopped short of putting on his t-shirt and looked at me. “Really?”
“Yes, she told me right after she explained that Servants steal immortals’ life source and energy through biting just like she does through touch. And then I saw you out in the water and I got scared, so I brought you here.”
“Evie.” Quinn threw on his t-shirt and walked over to me. “Don’t you think Dylan would know if he was dating a demon? Or if she was hanging out with them?”
“I can assure you neither is the case,” I heard Dylan say as he materialized in front of us.
“Did you know?” I asked through gritted teeth.
He nodded.
“How can you be with her? How can you trust she’s not working with the Servants or some other clan?” I asked coldly.
“Because I love her.”
“Love is not an excuse to act recklessly and risk someone else’s life,” I accused.
“C’mon, Evie, you don’t really think that what’s going on here,” Quinn called me out.
“Are you taking his side on this?”
“I just think we should hear what he has to say.”
“Involving Minerva is not risking Quinn’s life—it’s helping us save it,” Dylan asserted.
“You should have told me what she is,” I chastised Dylan.
“I did—she’s a Watcher. Besides, I told you she has her secrets.”
“Secrets? As in there are more? What else could she possibly be hiding?”
“I think it’s best if she tells you herself,” Dylan replied. “But it’s not what you think, K.C. She can help us. She wants to help. Please just hear her out—for me,” he implored. “Please.”
I looked at Quinn, who was urging me with his eyes to agree to listen to Minerva.
“Fine.” I sighed heavily.
“Okay, then,” Dylan said optimistically. “She’s back at Quinn’s, but she’ll only tell you the rest up here, where it’s private.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “You trust her?” I asked Dylan. “You really trust her?”
“With all that I am.” He looked and sounded like a lovesick puppy, which was a huge part of the problem.
“Go. Tell her to come up here. Then you bring Quinn down to his house and you stay by his side every second I’m not there. And don’t even think about bringing him back here until I say it’s okay, understood?”
“Understood,” Dylan answered as he phased out of view. Within seconds, he was back with Minerva. I looked at Quinn and worry filled me instantly.
“I’ll be fine, Evie. Talk to her. Figure this all out.”
I nodded. Quinn kissed me and then he and Dylan left Minerva and me alone. Several scenarios were running through my head, all of which had one of two endings—me attacking her or she, me.
“I know what you must think of me right now,” Minerva said, standing less than ten feet away. “Or suspect in any case. But, I can assure you I’m on the same side as you, and I always have been. I didn’t get a chance to tell you my whole story before you jumped ship.” She chuckled nervously.
“I thought you being a half-demon and having demonic powers were pretty compelling reasons for me to leave,” I said coldly.
“Evie, I am not a threat to either Quinn or you. If you let me explain, you’ll see that.”
“I have one question first.”
Minerva took a deep breath. “Okay.”
“How many ‘Good Samaritans’ like us have your abilities?”
“None that I’m aware of.”
“And how many demons?”
“How many of us have your abilities?” she asked, turning my question around on me.
“You’re evading my question.”
“Fair enough. And I will gladly answer it as long as you hear me out first.”
“Fine. You have exactly two minutes.”
“Okay, then I’ll be brief. I have no memory of my life, but because of who I am—of what my father was—I was told certain information about my family when I became a Watcher. Apparently, my father was a Death Dealer. He was supposed to collect my mother’s soul, but after one look at her, he couldn’t. He was infatuated with her immediately. She didn’t know what he was, of course—he only ever appeared in his human form around her. Then, one night he seduced her, and I was the result. They ran off together, all the while my mother believing they had to leave because I was illegitimate. But the truth was that my father went into hiding with her.
“Shortly after I was born, however, my father’s clan found them. When it was discovered that my father had not only failed to kill my mother and take her soul, but that he’d also fathered a child with her, the Death Dealers murdered my mother and destroyed my father.”
“What happened to you? How did you survive?” I asked, enthralled by her story despite myself.
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“When did you develop your ability to drain power from other immortals?”
“I don’t know that either. I have no idea if I had this ability as a human. But I do know that I’m not a Servant. And I promise you I have no allegiance to any demons. And, in answer to your second question, several other types of demons possess my power—including Death Dealers.”
“Great,” I said sarcastically. “So, how did you become a Watcher if half of you is demon? Doesn’t that violate every rule in the book?”
“Just because I’m half-demon doesn’t mean I’m half-evil. From a glass-full perspective, I started out half-good and pure. And if you grow up embracing the moral, decent parts of you and rejecting the immoral temptations, then the will to do good prevails. And I guess I lived my life honorably enough to become a Watcher when I died.”
“Does anyone else know about you?”
“Aside from my Handler, members of the Watcher’s Council, Dylan, and now you and Quinn—no. Well, not that I’m aware of anyway. Once I became a Watcher, it was thought to be too dangerous for me if others found out, so it was decided that my past should remain a secret.”
“How have your powers gone unnoticed?”
“I’ve only ever used them on a small scale—nothing that would ever draw too much attention. On the rare occasion I’ve had to use them to defend myself or my charge, I was on assignment and no other Watchers were around.”
“If this is such a secret, why tell me? Why show me?”
“It was a gamble, but one I thought was important to take. I wanted to show you what an important asset I could be if we’re ever forced to go up against the Servants. But I also knew once you saw my secret, it wouldn’t be long before you put two and two together and discovered the similarities between what the Servants and I can do.
“I wanted you to hear it from me first,” Minerva continued, “so you knew I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you. I thought that once I explained myself, once you understood, you might come to trust me.” She sighed. “But the truth is, regardless of whether or not you want to trust me, you now know what I can bring to the table, and deep down, some part of you knows you need my help if you want Quinn to survive the next Servants’ attack.”
This was a lot to swallow—Dylan’s girlfriend was half Death Dealer. On the flipside, she was also a Watcher, so someone thought she was virtuous enough to spend eternity protecting humans from the Servants. Plus, Dylan trusted her unequivocally, and Quinn seemed to like her as well. Not to mention, she’d taken a big risk by willingly sharing her secrets with the three of us.
Crap. Could I really do this? Could I really trust her? The more important question was, could I afford not to? Minerva was right—I couldn’t ignore the fact that her powers would be a huge asset to us. So, regardless of how trustworthy I believed her to be, I did realize I needed her help—we needed it. And if I pushed her away now, and something happened to Quinn, I’d never forgive myself.
I studied Minerva’s aura, examining every ripple, every hue; nothing suggested she was being deceitful. And if there was one thing I’d learned in the past year, it was that actions really did speak louder than words. Minerva had already been given plenty of opportunities to destroy both Dylan and me and deliver Quinn to Mathius, but she hadn’t. She’d offered nothing but her support and friendship.
Friends it is, I guess. I sighed, preparing myself for the leap I was about to take.
“So, you’re a demon lovechild, huh?” I said, smirking.
She smiled faintly. “That’d be me.”
“Did you know Moon Mercenaries are also half-human and half-demon?” I asked. “I wonder what other human-immortal offspring combinations are out there.” As soon as I uttered the words, a terrifying thought leapt into my mind—Quinn and I weren’t exactly being careful. Correction—we’d never been careful. I felt all of the color drain from my face.
“Don’t worry, it can only happen when the female is human,” Minerva reassured me, realizing exactly where my mind had jumped.
“You sure?” I asked weakly.
“Positive. Think about it,” Minerva added. “We don’t eat. We don’t breathe. We don’t sleep. We’re not alive biologically in any way in which that could happen. Believe me, this is definitely not an issue you have to worry about.”
I went through the list of my inhuman characteristics, never feeling more thankful for every single immortal one of them.
“Phew,” I exhaled loudly in relief. “You know, I thought you having a demon for a father was the craziest thing I’d ever heard. But the thought of Quinn and I … that we could ever … That’s a whole other level of madness.” I bit back a laugh. “I mean, holy crap, can you just imagine the guys’ faces if they knew we were even talking about this?”
Minerva grinned. “Yeah, I think it’s best if we keep this part of our conversation to ourselves.”
“Agreed,” I said wholeheartedly.
It wasn’t long before we were giggling uncontrollably at the thought of Dylan and Quinn overhearing us talk about the possibility of my getting pregnant. The one good thing to come out of my mini panic attack was the comic relief it provided to break the tension between Minerva and me—hopefully, for once and for all.
10. eggshells and fish bones
Quinn’s parents would be returning from their vacation in less than a week, which meant July eighteenth was drawing ominously closer. The portal was now all business, all the time, just as it’d been las
t April.
Dylan had become an overbearing watchdog, never letting Quinn out of his sight while on the surface. Dylan even hung out in Quinn’s room the nights we stayed at the house. I didn’t mind though. I knew Quinn and I would have plenty of time alone once we were tucked safely away in the new portal for a week. Besides, Minerva was no more relaxed when it came to watching me. I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere except the Falls or the Archives without her.
At some point each evening while Quinn slept, I managed to flip through Tartuf’s Journal up in his office to see if I could find any information that would help us. Agreeing to leave the Journal up in the Archives was becoming a real issue. It’d take days by Earth standards to discover anything meaningful, which was time we just didn’t have.
Two days before Quinn’s parents were scheduled to return, Dylan, Minerva, Quinn and I were walking out of the grocery store after having stocked up on the last of the supplies Quinn would need for our stay in the new portal. We were loading the bags into the Defender when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Ronald sitting outside a café across the street—or at least I thought it was Ronald … Ronald in pastel plaid pants, a pink short-sleeved polo, and a pale yellow sweater draped and tied over his shoulders. Ronald’s style was more Prada and Armani than the country-club-meets-the-Easter-bunny outfit he was currently wearing.
“Quinn,” I whispered. “Look.”
He followed my gaze. “Ronald?” Quinn asked with the same uncertainty.
“Um, why don’t you two stay here a second,” I suggested to Dylan and Minerva. “We need to talk to that guy. He’s the Augur,” I quickly threw in as Dylan was about to protest.
“Fine,” Dylan grumbled. “We’ll watch from here—but don’t go anywhere with him,” he warned.
“We won’t,” I assured him. “C’mon.” I took Quinn’s hand as we crossed the street.
“Ronald?” I asked when we were within a few feet from him.
“Try again,” he replied unenthusiastically, sipping a latte out of an oversized to-go cup. There was no humor or playfulness in his eyes or voice; in fact, he seemed almost bored. This was definitely not Ronald.
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