Secretly, I was still terrified Dylan was right. What if Shepherds only had a finite amount of blood? What if I’d given too much away and the damage was permanent? What if I’d never be able to regain all of my strength? I shuddered at the thought. The last thing I wanted was to be the weakest link.
I couldn’t help but think that Tartuf had the answers to these questions. But that didn’t really help me because I couldn’t find Tartuf. And even if I could, there was the issue of explaining to him what had happened to his Journal. Crap. What in the world would I tell him? How mad was he going to be with me for taking the Journal from his office after he’d asked me not to? And, of course, there was the pink elephant in the room, sitting front and center—right now I didn’t have the strength to teleport or phase. I was trapped in the portal, stuck … helpless—and that was the most terrifying scenario of all.
*
“You need to try to relax,” Quinn insisted on our fifth day in the portal. He walked over to where I was lounging by the outdoor fireplace and began to rub my shoulders.
“I can’t,” I admitted. “It’s driving me insane not knowing what’s going on out there.”
“There’s a good reason why you’re not running around out there.”
“Yeah, because I’m a lame duck.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of preventing you from becoming a dead duck,” Quinn countered.
“At least if I had the Journal, I’d feel like I was being more productive,” I said, ignoring his comment. “I know it has the answers we need. It spoke of how the head of the clan spent centuries searching for the right generals to lead his army to find a key that would unlock all the unbound souls, or something like that, so they can be recycled.”
“Why would he want to recycle souls?” Quinn asked.
“When a human dies, the soul goes to Heaven, Purgatory, or Hell. That said, a soul still has a chance of being sent back to bond with a new spirit in a new body when the soul is ready.
“But,” I continued, “Mathius, the head of the Servants, intentionally began recycling souls before they were ready. He began handpicking souls that had certain histories, certain predilections, for wicked acts—whether it be for creating wars, cults, political abuses, you name it—and then he released these souls in clusters, repopulating the mortal world with these evil seeds. Then Mathius would just sit back and watch how his interference adversely affected the human race decades later.”
“Why go through all the trouble of doing that?”
“Because Mathius wanted more power—he still wants more power—and he thinks he can get it by controlling these souls and introducing more evil in the world.”
“So, why not interfere more directly? Why use mortals to do it instead?” Quinn asked.
“I don’t know—but I bet I would if I had that damn Journal.”
“Maybe Dylan and Minerva are making some headway figuring out who took it.”
“Maybe,” I said, trying to hide how disheartened I was feeling.
“I still can’t believe someone took it.”
“Neither can I.” I sighed. “You realize we have to assume the Servants were behind the theft until we know for sure otherwise, right? We’ve got to assume they know about the Falls.” I tousled Quinn’s hair softly and frowned. “Quinn, neither of us can go back there for a while—we may never be able to go there again.”
“I know,” he replied sadly. All of the memories of Quinn and me in the Falls began flashing through my mind, and tears welled up in my eyes.
“Hey,” Quinn grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into him. “Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll make new memories up here,” he said reassuringly.
I nodded slightly as I wiped the tears from my eyes. And then an idea suddenly popped into my mind—one that would surely take my mind off things for a while. “Starting with me making you dinner.” I grinned. “Give me thirty minutes.” I stood up and bolted for the kitchen before Quinn could protest.
Of course, I had no clue what to make for him to eat. But after rummaging through the pantry and fridge, I found all the ingredients to make pasta with sautéed sausage, shrimp and mushrooms in a spicy tomato sauce. I also found some asparagus to roast and a bottle of Italian red wine. Voila! Dinner.
“This place is really incredible,” Quinn commented as I walked outside to set the table. He was sitting by the outdoor fireplace and watching the sun set over the ocean.
“Yes, it is,” I agreed, wrapping my arms around him. “Dylan did well.” I leaned over to kiss the top of his head. “Time to eat.”
“Good. I’m starved. What’s on the menu?”
“You’ll see.” I took him by the hand and led him to the table.
“Wow! Smells great.” He sounded surprised when I returned with the food. It made me smile. And to my ultimate satisfaction, he was even more amazed after he took his first bite.
“I will never again doubt your culinary skills.” Quinn took another huge bite of pasta. “Ever.”
“What do you mean ‘again’? When did you doubt them in the first place?” I asked, pretending to be miffed.
“Well, with the whole no-eating thing, I just assumed there was a no-cooking thing too.” He took another bite. “But, I clearly stand corrected,” he added, his mouth half-full.
After another helping, Quinn leaned back in his chair, dropped his napkin on top of the table and sighed. “Dinner was awesome. I don’t think I could eat another bite.”
“But you haven’t even had dessert,” I said so hopefully, knowing he’d enjoy the little game I had planned.
“There’s more?” he asked, sounding a little uneasy.
“You didn’t think I’d forget dessert the first time I made you dinner, did you?” I asked as I gathered the dishes from the table.
“No, I suppose not.” He almost looked like he was in pain at the thought of having to eat more.
“Well, prepare yourself. I’ll be right back.” I could no longer hide the smile that was fighting to stretch across my lips, so I quickly turned around and walked into the kitchen. I dumped the dirty dishes in the sink and ran over to the fridge. I felt my excitement buzzing wildly when I walked back outside a moment later and handed Quinn a can of whipped cream.
“Whipped cream.” A puzzled expression crossed his face. “That’s dessert?”
“No,” I cooed.
“Well, then where’s the rest?”
“You have to catch it.” I giggled and ran inside and down the hall towards the bedroom.
“Oh! So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” he yelled, half-laughing as he ran after me. I squealed in delight as I jumped onto the bed and positioned myself for his attack.
Quinn bolted into the room, took one look at me standing on the mattress, ready to defend myself and laughed. “I’ve got you now!” he shouted. He belly flopped onto the mattress and landed beside my feet. Before I could regain my balance, he grabbed my legs and pulled me down on top of him.
“I just want to tell you this is the best dessert ever,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
“You haven’t even tried it yet.” I giggled.
He shook the can, filled his mouth with whipped cream and swallowed. A tiny dollop of whipped cream was on the tip of his nose, and I giggled even harder. I wiped the whipped cream off with my finger and fed it to him just before kissing him. I could smell the sweet and buttery scent on his breath.
“So.” He held up the can and looked at me, his deep blue eyes full of mischief. “Where should I start?”
“Anywhere you like.”
*
“I think you should cook for me more often,” Quinn said as he rolled over in bed to face me the next morning.
“I should, huh?” I asked playfully.
“Definitely. Especially dessert.”
I chuckled.
“Speaking of food,” he rolled onto his back and patted his belly, “I’m hungry.”
“With the
amount you ate last night, I thought you’d want to fast today.”
“Apparently, I worked most of it off.” He winked at me.
“Well, in that case, you want me to make you some breakfast?”
“Only if you want to.” I could hear the hope in his voice.
“Breakfast in bed, then?”
“If you insist.” He smiled.
“Okay, wait right here.” I smiled in return, got out of bed and threw on the t-shirt he’d been wearing last night.
“Hey,” Quinn called out from the bedroom as I made my way into the kitchen. “You wouldn’t want to whip up some more of those awesome blueberry pancakes, would you?”
“Coming right up,” I called back.
“I could get used to this,” I heard Quinn say to himself, making me giggle to myself. It was kind of fun doting on him for a change instead of having to protect him.
*
That afternoon, Quinn walked outside and sat down beside me, a sandwich in hand. I watched as he ate his lunch, loving that I’d committed to memory his steps to making a “perfect” sandwich. In the grand scheme of our relationship, it was such a simple thing, but to me it still said a lot. It said, despite all the huge obstacles we’d had to face, we’d actually taken the time to get to know the little details about each other.
“You have that faraway look in your eyes again,” he observed just before taking the last bite.
“Just thinking,” I said, still preoccupied by my thoughts.
“About what?”
“Oh, about my life. School. Meeting you. How we both ended up here now.”
“Just sweating the small stuff, huh?” he joked.
I chuckled wryly. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Why me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, why did you talk to me that morning in class when I looked like a complete mess?”
“That’s kind of a random question.”
“I’ve been having a lot of random thoughts, so humor me, okay?”
“Okay.” He paused for a moment and then grinned. “Well, I’d noticed you before. I guess I was just waiting for the right time to make my move.” He winked. “But when you walked into class late, looking like a ‘complete mess,’ all I could think was you might’ve been running late that morning because you’d had a late night—you might’ve been with some other guy—and I didn’t like it. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. By the end of class, I guess I had to know your deal.”
“What would you have done if I’d told you I had a boyfriend from the get-go?”
“Oh, that’s right, you didn’t say anything right away, did you?” he asked playfully.
“C’mon, tell me,” I replied.
“I don’t know. Maybe I would’ve assumed it was too late—or maybe not. After all, even when I suspected you had a boyfriend, it just made me want you more.” He paused for a moment and a serious expression flashed across his face. “The thought of you with someone else made me jealous, which was something I hadn’t felt in a while. But,” he continued, smiling self-assuredly, “the minute I saw you at the frat party, I knew I could win you over.”
“Oh, did you?” I teased. “I’ve never thought of myself as an easy mark.”
“Trust me, you’re not—for most guys.” He leaned in and kissed me. “But I’m not like most guys.”
“No, you are definitely not like most guys,” I agreed, smiling. “So tell me, what gave me away?”
“Well, for one, you looked far from a mess that night.”
“It was a party. What did you expect me to wear?” I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, I don’t know … a black t-shirt and jeans, maybe?”
“You know,” I grinned reminiscently, “that was pretty much my standard outfit when I went to parties.” It suddenly dawned on me that Quinn’s statement was based on prior observations—of me. “You’d seen me before.”
“Only once or twice at Adam’s house,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders slightly.
“And you weren’t interested enough to come talk to me then?”
“It wasn’t a question of whether or not I was interested in you, it was more about what I was interested in that night.”
“Ah, so I wasn’t one-night stand material in your eyes?” I asked, a little insulted, although I had no idea why.
“You almost sound disappointed,” Quinn said, looking as confused over my reaction as I felt. “At least I noticed you, which apparently is more than you ever did when it came to me.”
“For the record, I might not have seen you out until the night you invited me to the party at Adam’s fraternity, but I did notice you the first day of psych class.”
“Oh, really. And you weren’t interested enough to come talk to me?” Quinn always had a knack for throwing my words back at me.
“Hey, I was in a relationship,” I replied proudly.
“And yet you still met me at that party,” he countered, equally as proud.
“I came to test myself—to prove I could resist your charms.”
“I guess you were wrong.” He grinned.
“I guess so.” I grinned back.
“You know, there was a moment or two that night when I thought you weren’t going to show—when I thought maybe I hadn’t been charming enough.”
“You? Not charming enough?” I chuckled, raising my brows.
“Well, you kept me waiting long enough. You made me begin to doubt my skills. But when you finally did show, I knew you were intrigued.” He smiled.
“You knew, huh?”
“Yup, I knew I had you—well, for about five minutes.” He chuckled. “Then your boyfriend called, and I was back to square one.”
“So, why did you keep pursuing me?”
“You were different. I felt a connection with you I’d never felt with anyone else. I couldn’t explain it, but I couldn’t let it go either, you know?”
I nodded.
“And after I kissed you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He took my left hand in his and traced the contours of my ring. “That never stopped you know. Even after the car accident, after you were gone, it’s like you haunted me sometimes.”
“What do you think would’ve happened between us if there was no such thing as Servants or Shepherds—if I would’ve survived and stayed at IU? Do you think we would’ve ended up together?”
“You mean after I convinced you to get rid of your boyfriend?”
“It wouldn’t have taken that much convincing,” I conceded.
“I don’t think I would’ve cared if it had taken all damn year. I wouldn’t have quit until you gave me a legitimate chance.”
“And then?”
“And then, I’m sure you would’ve turned my life just as upside down as you have already.” He chuckled. “But, I know I would’ve fought just as hard to keep you in my life.” He smiled at me. “I don’t know about you, but it was never all that difficult for me to picture us like this—in some house, our house, together.”
“Already engaged?”
“No, probably not. I think I would’ve waited until you graduated college.” He paused and narrowed his eyes as if in deep thought. “Actually, I take that back. I would’ve asked you when I graduated. I wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone in Bloomington hanging around all those guys without some claim on you for the world to see.”
“Ah, so the ring is really just your way of throwing me over your shoulder and dragging me back to your cave,” I teased. “You know, if you were really that worried, you could’ve just added another minor and graduated with me. That way you could’ve kept an eye on me twenty-four-seven.”
For a moment, he really looked as though he would’ve considered it.
“I was joking! Quinn, out of sight doesn’t mean out of mind—not for us anyway. Besides, it doesn’t even matter.” I leaned over and kissed him. “I only asked the question becaus
e I think if we were a ‘normal’ couple, time wouldn’t always feel like it was slipping through our fingers. No one would feel pressured into marriage.”
“Is that how you feel? Pressured?” he asked, concerned.
“No!” I said emphatically. “But that’s because our reality is so different from the hypothetical ‘us.’”
“Maybe, but I know one thing would’ve stayed the same regardless.”
“What’s that?”
“I would’ve have asked you when the time was right. And, last spring, when I realized I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, I felt a certain urgency about it. In fact, the sheer stress of keeping that kind of secret was enough to make me not wait very long to ask you.” He flashed me a crooked smirk and ran his hand through his hair.
“How long did you wait?” I asked, burning with curiosity.
“Less than a day.” He chuckled, shaking his bowed head. “I wanted to plan something more romantic, but I think I was too nervous to come up with anything good. Plus, I wasn’t sure of your answer.”
“You really didn’t know?”
“Does that surprise you?”
“A little.”
“Well, I don’t recall a resounding ‘yes’ from you when I did ask.”
“I was in complete shock. I had absolutely no clue you were going to ask me to marry you. Zero.”
“To tell you the truth, I shocked myself. But I’m glad I asked.” He caressed my face. “I always will be.”
I turned to kiss his hand. “Me too.”
*
Dylan stopped by that evening to report that all was quiet in the world, but that neither he nor Minerva had any leads on who might’ve taken the Journal or what the Servants were up to over the next few days. In fact, he said that rumor had it that all the Realms seemed to be remarkably inactive at the moment, as if waiting in muted anticipation to see how the next chapter unfolded.
Dylan’s latest update did nothing but stir my nerves. I didn’t like how quiet everything was on the outside. It was too quiet—like the calm before a storm. And, apparently, I wasn’t the only one on edge.
That night Quinn slept restlessly, tossing and turning, until he woke up suddenly in a cold sweat, shaking. “Evie?” he asked anxiously, looking around in the dark for me.
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