“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 agains
t 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.
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