Soul to Shepherd

by Linda Lamberson

  I pulled away. “Look at your hands, your arms.” Quinn was glowing again—not nearly as intensely as he had last night, but enough for him to see it. Sure enough, I was glowing too.

  “That’s messed up,” he almost whispered in awe.

  “The more intimate the physical connection between us, the more we glow.”

  “So, exactly what kind of experiments did you perform on me while I slept last night—and how the hell did I not wake up during them?”

  “Not the kind you think.” I chuckled. “It was more of a process of deduction.”

  “So you say.” Quinn smirked.

  “I just needed to get you hot and bothered enough so you could see the rest of what I want to show you.”

  “You just want an excuse to tease me and then leave me hanging,” he said, chuckling. I shoved him in response for his smart-ass comment and nearly pushed him off the bed.

  “Easy there, tiger. You don’t know your own strength,” he said, laughing even harder.

  “Hey, I thought you could take care of yourself now—you know, ‘Herculean strength,’ ‘soul steroids.’”

  “I can,” he assured me, playfully. “I’m just going easy on you. I’m not sure you can handle the new me.”

  “Oh, not only can I handle the new you, but I can smoke you,” I warned. “If you’d rather hear what I figured out, however …” I added in hopes of stopping short his antics.

  He cleared his throat, giving me his full attention.

  “Thank you.” I smiled impishly. “Here, now watch this.” I pulled my hand back from him slowly and our auras reached out towards one another. When I brought my hand closer to him again, our auras melded into one just like they had last night. “See that?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay, now watch this.” I stood up and walked across the room and our auras faded slightly. When I walked closer to him, they glowed more brightly.

  “Sweet trick.”

  “I think our auras, our bodies—our souls and spirits—are linked together now. Tara told me when true soul mates reach their full potential, their souls depend on one another—somehow feed off each other, which, in turn, gives us our new strength and power.”

  “So, what does that mean? How long does this all last?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, maybe we should take advantage of it while it does?” He winked and pulled me towards him. He was still surprisingly strong, but I could take him—and that’s just what I did.

  16. fall from grace

  With the Summer Moon behind us, we’d cleared the first hurdle and had kept Quinn out of the Servants’ clutches. Plus, Quinn and I finally had made our connection, which took the pressure off to find a way for our souls to bond. For a brief moment, all felt right in the world.

  I was making breakfast when Dylan and Minerva arrived. Quinn was sitting at the kitchen table, mulling over a packet of information about his semester abroad program in London this coming fall.

  “The quintessential picture of domestic life!” Dylan busted out laughing. “Man, I wish I had a camera! This is priceless!”

  “Hey, don’t go knocking her mad kitchen skills,” Quinn said, quickly coming to my defense. “If she stops cooking for me because of you, you’re toast, my friend—T-O-A-S-T.”

  “Ooh,” Dylan mocked, pretending to be scared.

  I smiled to myself as I set a plate of chorizo hash with grilled poblano peppers and corn, and a glass of orange juice in font of Quinn. I gently ruffled his bed head, and he grabbed my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist.

  “I wouldn’t write him off so quickly, my love,” Minerva noted, sizing Quinn up carefully.

  “Whatever,” Dylan practically sung, clearly doing just that. He obviously had yet to notice the change in Quinn.

  “So, did you two enjoy your time alone?” Minerva was grinning at us curiously as Dylan walked over to the stove to check out my “mad skills.”

  “No complaints,” Quinn replied as nonchalantly as he could muster, shutting his folder and setting it aside.

  “Yeah, no complaints.” I tried to play it off as casually as Quinn had.

  “And did anything unusual happen while you two were up here?” Minerva asked, fully smiling by now.

  “Why do you ask?” Quinn responded a little too impatiently as he doctored up his breakfast with hot sauce.

  “I’m just wondering why you two look like human fireflies,” she said.

  Dylan stepped away from the stove and stared at us. “Now that M mentions it, you guys are looking slightly radioactive.”

  “So, you can see it too, huh?” Quinn flashed a huge smile.

  “You can see your aura?” Minerva asked in amazement.

  “And Evie’s,” Quinn responded even more excitedly. “Plus, watch this.” He stood and swooped me up with one arm, flinging me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing. “Strong as an ox!” He playfully smacked me on my tush.

  “And what about you, K.C.?” Dylan asked somewhat hesitantly. “You operating on a full tank?”

  I phased out of view and teleported myself to Dylan’s side. “Couldn’t be better.”

  “Something happened to our souls,” Quinn stated eagerly. “They feed off of each other now, or something like that.”

  “‘They feed off of each other or something,’ huh?” Minerva raised her eyebrows and looked at me for further explanation.

  “We—had a moment last night that seemed to change things between us.”

  “A ‘moment,’” Minerva repeated.

  “Just what kind of ‘moment’ are we talking about?” Dylan asked.

  “Well, I was really tense last night, so Quinn—”

  Dylan interrupted me by clearing his throat. “Let’s keep this clean,” he teased. “The PG-13 version, please.”

  “Dylan!” I shook my head in annoyance. “Anyway, Quinn gave me a pep talk of sorts. He really helped me let go of my fears and open myself up to him—to us. Then we kissed, and the rest is history.”

  “That must’ve been one helluva pep talk!” Dylan exclaimed. “Either that, or one helluva kiss!”

  “Dude, a surge of energy hit me like a Mack truck,” Quinn announced. “It knocked me out cold. And when I came to, I was a super-strong, human glow stick.”

  “Strange,” Dylan said.

  “It gets stranger.” Quinn stretched his arm out to me and then pulled it back. Again, our auras reached towards each other. “I can literally feel the attraction between us. We’re like magnets.”

  “Soul magnets,” Dylan noted in tempered amazement. He turned to Minerva. “M, I want to be your soul magnet.”

  “It’s not that simple,” she replied, distracted. She walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. The three of us followed her.

  “What’s not that simple?” I asked.

  “Soul fusion,” she announced, looking up at us.

  “‘Soul fusion’?” Dylan, Quinn and I asked in stereo.

  “Yeah. I’ve only ever heard of it before.”

  “What is it?” Quinn asked.

  “When two people become really close, like, really close, through a shared experience or a moment born from some kind of primal emotion or feeling—love, fear, hate, passion—it’s possible their souls graze against each other. It’s supposedly the most intense endorphin rush a human, or anyone with a soul for that matter, can experience, regardless of whether the end results are positive or negative. The feeling itself is fleeting, but it supposedly leaves its mark on the soul forever—like a scar. It’s what most often leads people to believe they’re soul mates even when they’re not.

  “But for those few who really are soul mates,” she continued, “it’s possible for this feeling to last for much longer. And odds are the pair will experience something similar more than once in their lifetime together.”

  “So, what happens when you’re true soul mates?” I asked.

  “I don’t know—you two, I guess,”
Minerva replied. “Lore has it that your souls can fuse, causing the intensity of the union and the resulting physical effects to stick around.”

  “For how long? Do you think they’re permanent—the effects, I mean?” I asked anxiously.

  “I’m not sure, but I guess anything is possible.”

  “Well, while you two are trying to figure it all out, I think I’ll take College Boy up on his little ‘toast’ threat and test his super strength while he’s still got it,” Dylan challenged.

  “You’re on!” Quinn replied, grinning.

  “Hey!” I called out before they could bolt out the door. “I thought we were going to have a debriefing session on what happened during the last eight days. ‘Back to business,’ remember?”

  “This is business!” Dylan exclaimed. “We need to reevaluate just how much whoop-ass C.B. can bring to the party!”

  “Dylan, can you be serious for a minute, please?”

  “Relax, K.C. Take a deep breath and look at the big picture here for a minute. We prevented the ritual from happening. You’re back to one hundred percent. Quinn’s got some new skills. The band’s all back together, and nothing can find us up here. Besides, without more of Quinn’s blood, the demons can’t try to convert him for at least another three full moons, which by my calculations puts us into October, when we’ll all be on the other side of the pond saying things like, ‘Bloody hell’ and ‘Where’s the loo?’ So what’s the emergency?”

  I couldn’t argue with Dylan’s logic. We’d stopped the ritual from happening last night. Quinn was safe. And I was back to normal. Still, the monster stirred in the pit of my stomach.

  Dylan turned to Quinn. “Are you ready to have your arse handed to you, College Boy?” he goaded playfully as he tore out of the house.

  “Big talk, Big D—or should I start calling you Big Ben?” Quinn taunted good-naturedly. “I just hope you can handle hearing the sounds of defeat coming out of your big mouth!” he called out, chasing after Dylan.

  I just shook my head and turned to Minerva. “So, would you at least tell me what happened while Quinn and I were up here?”

  “The Servants were as quiet as mice. We couldn’t find a single trace of them.”

  “And you don’t think it’s the least bit strange they didn’t even try to look for Quinn or me after we got his blood back?” I asked, concerned.

  “Yeah, but isn’t everything about us, and what we do, strange on some level?” she countered.

  “I guess,” I conceded. “Still, you’d think they would’ve made some noise—a last ditch effort to set a trap for us.” I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts. “After spending months preparing Quinn’s blood, preparing for the ritual itself, what are the chances the Servants just gave up and abandoned the ritual the minute they realized Quinn’s blood was gone? I mean, it all just seems too easy.”

  “True. If converting Quinn is as important to the Servants as everyone claims, then his blood shouldn’t have been vulnerable to theft in the first place.”

  I nodded in agreement. “Something’s off. We’re missing something—something huge.”

  “Or, maybe we just got really lucky. Maybe once the Servants realized they lost Quinn’s blood, they abandoned their original plans and immediately began plotting their next move.”

  “If that’s the case, then I’m more worried than ever.”

  “Why’s that?” Minerva asked.

  “Because first off, I don’t put a lot of stock in luck. And second, it means we have no idea when or where the Servants will strike again.”

  “So we’re back to playing defense. What do you think should be our next move?”

  “We need to find Ronald. Hopefully, he can help explain what’s going on,” I replied.

  “Dylan and I looked for Ronald every day, but he never showed up at the mart. And neither did his brother.”

  “Crap.” I sighed heavily. “We need you, Ronald—big time. So where are you?” I asked, wishing the wind would carry my desperate plea directly to his ear.

  *

  “What happened?” I asked in concern when Dylan and Quinn returned twenty minutes later, covered in grass stains and dirt.

  “College Boy kicked my ass! That’s what happened!” Dylan exclaimed in complete shock.

  “Whew! That was fun!” Quinn announced proudly, out of breath. “I’m beat.” He grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and took a huge swig before heading back out onto the patio. He set the bottle down on the nearby table, took off his shirt, and dove into the pool. Dylan, Minerva, and I followed him out.

  “Feel better?” I called out to him when Quinn emerged from under the water’s surface.

  “Yeah, a little.”

  “Your auras—they’re not as bright as before,” Minerva observed. “Quinn, do me a favor and kiss Evie.”

  “My pleasure.” Quinn winked at me, grinning playfully as he pulled himself up on the ledge and out of the pool in one swift motion. He ran his hands through his wet hair, pushing the dripping locks back away from his face as he made his way over to me. He pulled me firmly into a wet embrace and planted a kiss on my lips. Instantly, I could feel my body buzz with more energy. He pulled away and looked at me strangely, obviously having experienced the same physical reaction. Our auras’ glow had intensified slightly, but it was more than that—I felt stronger. He kissed me again, and I felt even more alive.

  “Whoa,” Quinn noted in surprise. “I feel like I could go another nine rounds right now.”

  “Ready whenever you are,” Dylan baited, cracking his knuckles and shaking out his limbs.

  “Interesting,” Minerva stated, ignoring Dylan. “I think there’s a direct connection between your strength and your physical contact. I mean, look at you two—just a little kiss has you glowing like white hot embers again.”

  “Hold the phone!” Dylan exclaimed in shock. “Are you saying the more K.C. and Quinn get it on, the stronger they’ll feel?”

  “I think that’s what I’m saying, yes.” Minerva chuckled at her own conclusion.

  “You lucky dog!” Dylan looked at Quinn as if he’d just won the jackpot of all lotteries.

  “As if Dylan’s ego wasn’t bruised enough,” Minerva said to me under her breath, smirking. I couldn’t help but giggle.

  *

  Quinn’s parents weren’t expecting him for another couple of days, so the four of us decided to stay the night in La Casa. Despite our relaxed mood, I insisted we spend at least a little time discussing what was next on the agenda.

  We knew the Servants needed more of Quinn’s blood to perform the ritual. And since they needed time to prepare his blood, we assumed getting more of it was a top priority for them. Therefore, Quinn would continue to receive around-the-clock security, with each of us rotating shifts. As long as they didn’t get his blood, his soul would be safe—and so would his life until we could figure out a way to get him off their radar permanently.

  Of course, I was another story. Now that Quinn was stronger as a result of our souls having “fused,” my trade-in value had diminished greatly.

  “It won’t take long for the Servants to realize Quinn and I reached our full potential as true soul mates, which means I’m pretty much expendable in their eyes,” I stated bluntly.

  “But if they eliminate you, they weaken our connection—they weaken my strength, right?” Quinn asked.

  “I think that’s right,” Minerva replied.

  “Well, if that’s the case, then they’d destroy any chance of Quinn holding on to his super-strength side effects when they convert him,” Dylan added.

  “You mean ‘if’ don’t you?” I shot Dylan a nasty look.

  “Yeah, absolutely,” he clarified. “Sorry, man,” he added, nodding apologetically at Quinn.

  “Minerva said most of what’s out there about true souls mates is based in lore,” I reminded Dylan and Quinn. “So it’s possible the Servants have no idea about the strength-proximity connection betw
een Quinn and me. We certainly didn’t. And by the way Tara spoke about our bond, I doubt the Council even knows.”

  “Fine, then we’ll just have to make those demon-bastards realize I’m totally useless and unable to defend myself without you,” Quinn stated.

  “I’m not so sure it’s all that cut and dry,” Minerva chimed in. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought the past week,” she continued warily, “and I don’t think what’s going on is as simple as keeping you two apart or eliminating Evie once Quinn has the potential to become an amped up immortal. I think the Servants have found a new angle—I think they’ve found a way to use Evie too.”

  “How?” I asked, trying to quiet the millions of thoughts Minerva’s statement sparked in my mind long enough to listen to what she had to say.

  “Converting Quinn would mean destroying his soul,” Minerva explained in a solemn voice. “It’s an irreversible act.” She looked me in the eye. “If you two were to go from the truest of soul mates to the worst of enemies, for you to know there’s no way to undo what’s been done or to fill the dark, empty void left in your soul by the absence of his …”

  “It would be unbearable,” I said grimly.

  “Exactly,” Minerva continued. “I think Mathius is taking bets on your inability to handle Quinn’s conversion,” Minerva added. “In fact, I think he’s counting on it.”

  “Why?” Quinn asked.

  “To break her spirit—”

  “And make me willing to sacrifice my own soul,” I finished Minerva’s sentence.

  “Why would they want to do that?” Dylan asked.

  “Because then it would be easier to corrupt her—convince her to do their bidding,” Minerva replied. “That way, theoretically speaking, if Quinn doesn’t survive the conversion, the Servants still might get a super weapon in their corner.”

  “Or two super weapons if he does survive,” Dylan added.

  “So I guess the Servants found a way to destroy your soul too,” Quinn said.

  “I guess so.” The sadness in my eyes matched his.

  *

  “That’s it,” I announced a couple of hours later. “No more gloom and doom. I can’t sit here wallowing in my own pity party anymore. I’m going to speak to Tara.”