Soul to Shepherd

by Linda Lamberson

  “I’d rather you did,” Minerva replied calmly just before plunging the knife between the demon’s eyes. Then she did the same thing to the blond. An even louder screeching noise tore through the club. Black smoke began to spew out of the demons’ mouths. I’d seen this before—they were going to implode.

  “Time to go!” I shouted.

  We both teleported to La Casa, where Dylan and Quinn were waiting with alarm-filled eyes.

  “What happened?” Quinn asked, rushing over to me. He eyed the smear of blood on my arm where my wound had been just moments before. “Is that yours?” he asked in concern.

  “Yeah, but I’m fine,” I said as calmly and reassuringly as I could in light of the fact that amped up demon energy was coursing through me.

  “What do you mean ‘you’re fine’? ” Quinn demanded.

  “What do you mean that’s your blood?” Dylan demanded simultaneously.

  “Boys,” Minerva jumped in, “let’s all just take a few deep breaths and sit down so we can explain everything.” She was fidgeting, and I could still see the red tinge in her eyes. The energy she’d absorbed from Blondy was still coursing through her, too, and I wondered if my eyes looked like hers.

  “Um, I think I’ll stand.” I couldn’t help but bounce up on down on my toes to expend some of the energy buzzing inside me.

  “Actually, I will, too,” Minerva agreed.

  *

  “So I don’t understand,” Dylan said after Minerva and I explained the attack. “The Servants were interested in K.C.—not Quinn?”

  “Oh, they wanted him all right. I just don’t think it was in the same way as Cy and Rex did,” I replied, recalling the crude comments they’d made.

  “What? You mean, they wanted me?” Quinn shuddered in horror.

  “Don’t worry. From what I gathered they seemed to be equal opportunists,” I replied sarcastically.

  “They swung both ways?” Dylan asked in amused shock.

  “Figures,” Minerva chimed in. “You know what they say about demons.”

  “No, what do they say?” both Dylan and Quinn asked with eager curiosity.

  Minerva rolled her eyes at them. “They’re the ultimate sybarites.”

  “Syba-whats?” Dylan asked.

  “Sybarites,” she repeated. “The kings and queens of narcissistic hedonism, devoted to the pursuit of sensual pleasure and self-gratification.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Dylan asked.

  “Can we be serious here for a minute?” Minerva slapped his arm not so playfully.

  “Maybe the demons went after Evie first to get amped up on her blood before coming after me,” Quinn pondered aloud.

  “Oh, they were planning on doing more than just getting off on Evie—no pun intended,” Minerva noted. “I felt their desire to destroy her.”

  I could see Quinn cringe out of the corner of my eye. “So, does that mean we toss the theory about the Servants wanting to corrupt Evie?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” Minerva agreed. “But just because they wanted to destroy her doesn’t mean they would’ve in the club. In fact, I think they needed something else from her—something in addition to her blood.”

  “Well, regardless of their intentions, I’m just thankful you showed up when you did,” I told Minerva. “I just wish we could’ve gotten some information from them before we got rid of them.”

  “The important thing is that you’re safe,” Quinn said.

  “The important thing is that we’re all safe,” I clarified. I morphed into a black tank top and black jeans.

  “Going somewhere?” Quinn asked me.

  “Yeah, to find Peter.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Quinn sounded both shocked and angry.

  “No. He’s read the Journal, which makes him the best source we have on the Servants at the moment. Maybe he can make some sense of what just happened.”

  “Evie, you can’t trust him.”

  “No, you can’t,” I said, irritated.

  “I don’t want you to go,” he declared.

  “Are you forbidding me?” Now I was getting pissed off.

  “I shouldn’t have to,” Quinn replied, not backing down. “You know what? Let’s forget for a minute that you were attacked by demons tonight, because that’s enough to make me crazy enough to never want to let you out of my sight. But now you want to go off on your own to find the one Shepherd who has lied to you and to me in the past—the one guy who is hung up on you, the one who’s done nothing but try to drive a wedge between us. What in the world makes you think you can trust him now?”

  “Because I know he wouldn’t want me to get hurt. I know he’d tell me the truth if it meant protecting me.”

  “The entire truth? Or just the parts designed to protect you while making sure I don’t come out of this alive?” Quinn spat out.

  “Any information at this point is better than none,” I countered. “I’ll tell you everything when I return, and you all can judge for yourselves.”

  “You want information? Fine. How about we try to find Ronald instead?” Quinn bargained. “You know he has to have some answers.”

  “Fine, I’ll make a deal with you. We’ll go look for Ronald right now, but if he’s not at the convenience mart, I’m going to talk to Peter.”

  “Evie—”

  “I’d take the deal, bud, before she just phases out of here,” Dylan suggested.

  “Fine,” Quinn harrumphed.

  *

  Considering what had happened at the club, we all went to the West Loop to look for Ronald. Not surprisingly, he wasn’t there.

  “Evie, please don’t do go,” Quinn begged when we returned to the portal.

  “We had a deal, and we need some answers.”

  Quinn ran his hand through his hair and sighed heavily. “Ten Aura minutes and then I’m sending Dylan after you.” He glanced at Dylan to confirm his participation in the plan, and Dylan nodded.

  “I can’t get any answers from Peter in ten minutes,” I argued.

  “Fine, fifteen.”

  “Thirty.”

  “That’s twelve hours for me!” Quinn exclaimed. “Eight Earth hours,” he continued. “Then Dylan is coming after you whether you like it or not.”

  Dylan nodded in agreement, looking dead serious.

  “Fine,” I groaned, phasing out of view.

  *

  “Peter?” I called out when I arrived in the main library of the Archives. “Peter, are you here?”

  “What’s wrong?” Peter asked in concern as he appeared before me.

  “Something just happened. Can we talk somewhere, in private?”

  “Of course.” Peter took me by the hand and teleported me to his cold, blustery portal. I looked around for any signs suggesting Peter had made this place his own—like an igloo or an ice fort or something—but I didn’t even see a tent.

  “So, what happened?” He sounded even more worried.

  “You really like coming here? I mean, now that you know other portals exist, aren’t you curious to see what else is out there?”

  “I happen to like it up here. Now, are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “I was attacked.”

  His posture stiffened. “By whom?”

  “By two Servants—they cornered me.” I explained the rest of the story to Peter, who stood there with clenched fists at his side as he listened to every word.

  “So they were only after you?” He sounded surprised.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe—or maybe they wanted a fix from my blood before they went after Quinn.”

  “This is not good.”

  “No, really?” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “What I meant to say,” Peter replied curtly, “is they must know your souls have fused. They wouldn’t have risked going after you otherwise.”

  “How can you be so sure? They tried to get rid of me back in April and we hadn’t fully bonded yet.”

 
; “I don’t believe they realized the full potential Mr. Harrison and you possessed back then. But after that attack last spring, they probably decided to wait to try to destroy you until they could confirm Mr. Harrison was at peak strength. And now they have—they tasted your strength through your blood.”

  “Well, then they only confirmed we were at our peak strength tonight.”

  “‘Tonight?’ I don’t understand.”

  “Our strength depends on our physical proximity. The more time we spend together, the stronger we both feel, but if we spend too much time apart—”

  “Your strength weakens?” Peter asked in disbelief.

  “Exactly.”

  “But how can that be? Everything I’ve ever read about true soul mates speaks to the total and complete realization of the pair’s potential once the connection has been fully made—once the souls have fused.”

  “Well, I can assure you that is not the case with Quinn and me.”

  “Remarkable,” Peter mumbled, now off in his own head probably mulling over numerous theories that could explain this phenomenon.

  “That’s one word for it,” I noted sarcastically.

  “And you’ve tested this hypothesis?”

  “‘Hypothesis’?” I looked at Peter like he was nuts. “Um, yeah. I’ve tested it every time I leave Quinn to come here. After being apart, I feel weaker, but once I return to his side, I feel stronger. Kissing him makes me feel even stronger, and when we’re—”

  “I understand,” Peter abruptly cut me off. “So, right now, you don’t feel as strong as you do when Quinn and you are near each other?”

  “The effects aren’t immediate. It could be hours or even a day on Earth before we begin to feel drained. It depends on how much energy we exert when we’re apart. But eventually, we feel weaker.”

  “So if the Servants eliminate you and your soul cannot reach Quinn’s to recharge, then what?”

  “If they destroy me before they try to convert him, I imagine it’d be like our souls never fused after only a few days—at least in terms of the strength we possess now. All of the benefits of our bond would be gone. It’d be like Quinn never had superhuman strength and I—” I stopped short, afraid to tell Peter about my own immortal limitations ever since I gave my blood to the Moon Mercenaries.

  “And you what? What about you?” Peter rephrased his question when I didn’t answer it the first time.

  “Recently, I’ve been experiencing a few technical difficulties.”

  “What kind of ‘technical difficulties’? Are they the result of the soul fusion?” he asked in concern.

  “No, but they’re not the kind you want when going up against demons,” I said vaguely. “The good thing is they seem to vanish whenever Quinn and I are together.”

  “Well, I suppose that is a good thing.” Peter paused for a moment. “Eve, are you all right?” The worried look in his eyes seemed so sincere. I was suddenly so irritated at Quinn for doubting Peter’s character and believing that Peter stole the Journal. “Right now, I’m feeling great, which is saying a lot considering I was practically mauled and molested by two demons,” I quipped. I looked at my watch but couldn’t tell how much time had passed since we’d been in the portal. “In fact, I’m pretty sure Dylan and Quinn are the ones having the hissy fit right about now seeing I’ve been gone for a while.”

  “I’m sure they are. I’ll take you back to the Archives so you can let them know you’re all right.” Peter took my hand and held it for a moment. “You would let me know if you were feeling out of sorts, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes.” I smiled and squeezed his hand reassuringly before he teleported us back to the Archives, where Dylan was already waiting for us.

  “Well, I see the first of the cavalry has come for you.” Peter smirked, leaned over, and kissed me on the cheek. “It was good to see you again, Eve—even under the present circumstances.”

  I nodded, smiling. “You, too.”

  “Promise me you’ll let me know how you’re feeling?”

  I nodded.

  “Dylan, take care of our girl here, okay?” Peter flashed him an awkward grin.

  “Sure thing,” Dylan replied, nodding his head once in acknowledgment. With that, Peter phased out of view.

  “You know, I can see why Quinn’s not a big fan of that guy,” Dylan noted telepathically. “The way Peter looks at you—it’s like he’s in love with you or something.”

  “That’s because he is,” I responded solemnly.

  “Come on,” Dylan said, offering me his hand. “It’s been more than twenty minutes. Quinn is chomping at the bit waiting for you.” He sighed heavily. “He had another bad dream last night.”

  “Crap. Did he tell you what it was about?” Quinn had been doing better lately—fewer sleepless nights, fewer nightmares. My attack probably set him back.

  “No, he didn’t.”

  18. the stakeout

  The following day, Quinn’s family gathered at his parents’ house for lunch to celebrate Doug having taken the bar exam. He was traveling to the Cayman Islands that week with some law school friends for their last hurrah before officially entering the working world. Everyone but Brady was there. Part of me wished I could be at Quinn’s side, but another part of me wasn’t in a very celebratory mood. The Servants’ recent attack had put me—had put all of us—on red alert, and my anxiety level was at an all-time high.

  That night, Quinn woke up in the midst of yet another bad dream, and as with the others, he refrained from talking about it. I couldn’t get upset with him for not wanting to open up about his nightmares. We were all holding our cards close to our vests—shying away from telling one another what was running through our minds. But I also knew we weren’t going to get anything accomplished if we kept operating this way. Things had to change.

  The next morning, I laid it all out on the line to Quinn, Dylan, and Minerva. Because of the attack in the nightclub, I told them I thought my being around Quinn down on Earth was too dangerous for everyone involved, including his family. I proposed staying away from Quinn while he was on the surface, and that included when I was in my phantom form. I still might’ve been invisible when I wanted to be, but I was no longer undetectable—Quinn’s aura was like a barometer. Each time I was near him, his aura glowed a little brighter, which undoubtedly would tip the Servants off as to my presence.

  No one else agreed with my idea, though. Dylan reiterated the importance of strength in numbers—that we all needed to stick together and look out for one another as a team—and Quinn and Minerva sided with him wholeheartedly.

  Instead of working as a team, however, I felt like we were only drifting further apart over the next couple of days. The silence among us was deafening, but my emotions were loud and chaotic, flip-flopping between anxiety, frustration, anger, and fear. I knew I wasn’t the only one quietly freaking out. Time kept slipping through our fingers and we had no real game plan. Our search for the Journal was going nowhere; it was like finding a needle in a field of haystacks—and only Dylan was allowed to search for it. To make matters worse, Quinn and I were on lockdown with twenty-four-seven protection. Neither of us was allowed to go anywhere by ourselves—not La Casa, not even the Archives. Having a constant chaperone hanging over my head was driving me crazy, especially since the one place I knew we needed to investigate if we had any hope of finding the Journal was also the one place that was off-limits—the Falls. We had to go back there, to the scene of the crime, to search for clues.

  “That’s it, I’m going to the Falls,” I announced one afternoon.

  “What? No!” Quinn exclaimed. “You’re the one who said we couldn’t go back there—that there could be a trap.”

  “I know, but we can’t just keep throwing darts into the air and hope they stick. Maybe there’s a clue to finding the Journal up there.”

  “I don’t know K.C.,” Dylan replied. “It seems like a lot of risk for not a lot of reward. I was up there, remember? The pla
ce is totally trashed. I doubt you could find anything in that mess.”

  “Maybe, but at least I’m willing to do something other than just try to hold down the fort by keeping everyone locked inside of it.” I bit my tongue, but it was too late. My words were already out there. I knew Dylan was doing the best he could—we all were. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

  “We’re all on edge because we don’t know what to expect next,” Minerva said.

  “Yeah, well someone knows.” Quinn zeroed in on me. “We have to find Ronald.”

  “We’ve gone down this road. M and I have been searching for him high and low this entire time—he’s M.I.A., man,” Dylan stated.

  “That’s my point—you’ve been searching for Ronald,” Quinn replied. “But he’s hung up on Evie and me. Ronald won’t want to talk to anyone but the two of us—together.”

  “We couldn’t find Ronald when we looked for him before,” I said doubtfully.

  “But he did send Ruben to talk to us—one of them has to be able to tell us something.”

  “So, what are you suggesting? That the two of you go search for him alone?” Dylan asked. “Not gonna happen. It’s way too dangerous.”

  “So we all go,” Quinn replied. “You and Minerva can hang back while Evie and I wait him out. We’ll head out early tomorrow morning and stake out the convenience store—all day and night if we have to. He’ll show up eventually,” he added confidently. “He has to.”

  “He doesn’t have to,” I grumbled.

  “You have a better suggestion?” Quinn asked. “One that doesn’t involve possibly walking into a trap by going to the Falls?”

  “Not at the moment,” I conceded sheepishly.

  “I guess I don’t see anything wrong if we all go—and we have an emergency exit strategy in place,” Dylan said.

  “I’m game,” Minerva seconded.

  “Evie?” Quinn looked at me hopefully.

  “Fine,” I gave in reluctantly. “We’ll try your idea first.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Quinn replied with a victorious smirk.

  *

  By seven o’clock the next morning, we’d found a parking spot across the street from Ronald’s favorite spot to peddle his newspapers. Minerva and Dylan were nearby, watching us like hawks. Quinn was perfectly happy sitting in the Defender, listening to music, drinking coffee, and scarfing down two chocolate-frosted donuts. I, on the other hand, was antsy. I was stuck inside a truck with little to no hope of escape anytime soon. I looked at my watch. Seven thirty-eight. Time was crawling at a snail’s pace.