Guardians of Summerfeld: Full Series: Books 1-4

by Melissa Delport

  “They’ll be here shortly,” Isaiah murmured from his seat at the far end of the table. Quinn couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She had kept their horrifying discovery a secret from the other Guardians, at his request, but it was burning a hole in her chest.

  Tristan glanced across at her again, and she felt once more the guilt gnawing at the pit of her stomach. Tristan, above all others, deserved the truth. Avery had been his wife – the mother of his children. Keeping it from him had taken a massive toll on their relationship. She had pulled away from him these past two weeks and not knowing the reason for her withdrawal had hurt him beyond anything else.

  Monique watched the two of them with a thoughtful expression on her face. She could sense the tension between them, and her heart ached for her uncle. Quinn had not been herself the past few weeks and Monique knew whose side she was on. His despair was palpable, and Monique wished she could get away from it.

  The morbid atmosphere was not the only reason Monique wanted to get back inside the City. She also wanted to get back to Lucky – the hatchling Chumana dragon which had defied all odds and survived, despite hatching weeks early. Quinn hadn’t even been to see him yet, Monique thought, as though it was a personal offence. The baby dragon had bonded with Monique while still in its egg, and it followed her around like a wrinkled, scaly, fire-sneezing puppy, much to Monique’s mother, Camille’s, horror. Monique couldn’t understand her mother’s objection – Lucky was no larger than a Pomeranian, and, with his black eyes, snub snout, and glorious red and orange coloring, Monique thought he was easily one of the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen. It wasn’t his fault that only last week she had snuck him out of the shed and he had set fire to the living-room curtains.

  Quinn heaved a sigh of relief as the great doors of the Cathedral opened and the Hunters entered the room. Daniel, the Guardians’ fiercest warrior, followed by Blair, Garrett and Liam. They had been out on a hunting expedition, and, from the look of them, it had been a successful one. Even the usually sullen Blair looked positively euphoric.

  “Where are the others?” Daniel asked, glancing at the empty chairs.

  “Right behind you, they’ll be here any minute.” Isaiah answered. Piper arrived only five minutes later, but in the end it took another half hour before Lucas and Braddon took their seats. Avery’s seat, as always, was the only empty chair remaining.

  “Let’s get to it, then, shall we?” Daniel began.

  Much to Quinn’s discomfort, the meeting had been called to discuss the very topic she was trying to avoid: the werewolves. Tomorrow night would be a full moon and Rafe and Channon, who were currently residing within the Cathedral itself, were being sent back into the City to meet their fate. Caleb had killed Rafe’s mother, Vivienne, during the last full moon, in retaliation for Rafe’s disappearance. The Guardians had taken Rafe out of Summerfeld for his protection, against their better judgment, and Vivienne had paid the price. There was only one way to ensure that no more innocent lives were lost. Rafe would have to return and face Caleb’s wrath.

  “They’ll kill him,” Quinn said, for what felt like the hundredth time. Every nerve in her body was violently opposed to sending Rafe back inside the City. Caleb had already defeated him once, when he usurped Rafe’s Alpha title, and the older wolf would not survive a second attack. It was tantamount to a death sentence. “We may as well kill him ourselves,” Quinn continued, emotionally, “at least it would be merciful.” Nobody contradicted her. To do so would be pointless; Caleb had already proven himself to be a cruel, highly aggressive Alpha and he would not tolerate the competition.

  “It will be a great loss,” Daniel intoned hollowly. “But there is nothing we can do.”

  “We can protect him,” Quinn pointed out.

  “No, Quinn,” Isaiah murmured. “We have discussed this and there is nothing we can do. It is the pack’s business.”

  “Rafe goes back inside tomorrow morning,” Daniel agreed. “Channon too.”

  Quinn fell silent, her heart even heavier in her chest. She had been so focused on her own pain and the tragic reality of Avery’s death that she had spent no time with Rafe since finding out. It struck her now how selfish that had been. She was close to Rafe and he was not only her ward, he had become her friend in the one hundred years she had known him. Channon would also likely not survive the night unless she bowed to Caleb’s dominance, and Quinn knew the haughty she-wolf would never do that. Caleb would kill her too.

  “There is something else,” Daniel changed the subject. “A convoy of gypsies has taken up residence in the woods, not far from here.” Quinn stiffened, and Monique slunk lower in her chair, trying to make herself invisible. Quinn cast a warning look at Tristan, and then looked to Isaiah. Only the four of them knew that Monique was secretly seeing one of the gypsy boys and that Quinn and Tristan had been taking both her and her mother, Camille, into town, frequently, to visit him. “I can only assume they are the same ones Braddon reported a few months ago,” Daniel continued, oblivious to their discomfort. “It seems I was wrong in brushing them off as of little concern.” Daniel somehow made his own oversight seem a mere trifle. Quinn wondered how Isaiah would react, but when he spoke, his words were the last thing she expected.

  “We are aware that the gypsies have remained in the area,” he nodded sagely. “Quinn and Tristan have been keeping an eye on them.”

  “What?” Daniel and Quinn spoke in unison, although in Quinn’s case it was not a question, but a shocked cry of indignation. Isaiah smiled.

  “An opportunity presented itself,” he continued calmly, speaking directly to an apoplectic Daniel. “A chance to infiltrate their camp and learn more about them. I asked Quinn and Tristan to oblige and they reluctantly agreed.” That wasn’t exactly how it had unfolded, but Quinn knew better than to say so.

  “That is preposterous,” Daniel snapped. “To consort with the gypsies puts us all at risk! What if they discover that these two are Guardians?” he jerked his head in Quinn and Tristan’s direction.

  “They won’t,” Isaiah replied confidently. “Do you honestly think the gypsies are smarter than we are? This is a good thing. We have never been able to understand exactly why they search for the City. Now, perhaps, we will finally find out their true intentions.”

  Daniel mulled this over, and then, to Quinn’s astonishment, he nodded.

  “You have a point. What have you learned?” he turned to Tristan.

  “Not much,” Tristan admitted. He doubted the gypsies’ bonfire celebrations were of any interest to Daniel and he preferred not to mention that his sole discovery so far was the strength of their brew.

  “Do not forget that the gypsies are dangerous,” Daniel cautioned, and Monique gave a snort of derision. “You have something to say, Monique?” Daniel’s eyes bored into hers. Daniel treated every Guardian equally and he made no allowances for age, gender, or how long a Guardian had served the City. Quinn had always admired this trait but now, seeing Monique’s cheeks redden under his scrutiny, she felt the need to protect her.

  “Monique is our accomplice,” she stated boldly. “She befriended a gypsy boy, and it is through him that we came to be accepted into their circle.”

  Monique’s eyes widened in horror but Quinn knew Daniel far better than she did. Daniel did not show surprise or disapproval at this revelation. Instead, he cocked his head, gazing at Monique with a different expression. Daniel was impressed.

  “Keep us informed,” he instructed.

  The meeting ended shortly thereafter and Quinn watched as the other Guardians made their way through the Gateway.

  “Monique,” she called the younger girl back when only Tristan and Isaiah remained.

  “Daniel’s going into the City?” Quinn asked Isaiah when they were alone.

  “He needs to rest,” Isaiah confirmed. “He will stay a while.”

  Quinn had never known Daniel to make use of his Summerfeld home. He seemed to spend every waking moment hunt
ing vampires. She wasn’t sure if she felt comfortable having the most formidable Guardian of them all watching over her, particularly given what she had been getting up to the past two weeks.

  “I need to check on Lucky,” Monique whined impatiently.

  “In a minute,” Quinn consoled her, before turning back to Isaiah. “You want to tell me what that was about? I thought we were keeping Monique’s visits outside the City to ourselves.”

  “There was nothing else for it. I don’t like secrets between us to begin with, but Daniel knowing the gypsies are here changes things. He wouldn’t leave them unsupervised, and Monique’s secret visits into man’s realm would have been found out soon enough.”

  “Fair point.”

  “I hope that you are using your time with Jonas wisely,” he added, and Monique flushed scarlet. “Daniel was right about the gypsies being dangerous.”

  “Jonas isn’t!” Monique set her jaw stubbornly.

  Quinn’s fear that Monique was becoming emotionally attached to Jonas seemed to have been realised.

  “Monique, I know you like him, but surely you know that this will never work,” she said. “Jonas is a decent kid, but he is what he is. The gypsies are not our allies. They are a threat to Summerfeld.”

  Monique bit her lip. It would do no good to dispute it; they would not believe her anyway. “Can I go now?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Quinn relented, getting to her feet.

  “Where are you going?” Tristan asked as she headed, not for the altar, but toward the Cathedral doors.

  “I need some air.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No,” she shook her head, feeling guiltier than ever, “I won’t be long. I’ll come and see you when I get back.”

  They both knew she was lying. She had been avoiding Tristan since learning the truth about Avery’s death. She couldn’t be around him, not while she was keeping something so important from him. Her feelings for him were real, but she didn’t trust herself enough to be in his company. She feared that if they were alone together he would get the truth out of her.

  Isaiah watched her go, a sad expression on his youthful face. Quinn and Tristan’s feelings for one another were painfully obvious, and it grieved him to see them torturing each other like this, but for now, it was imperative that only he and Quinn knew the truth.

  Quinn drove through the portal and back into man’s realm, feeling the pressure lift slightly as she passed through it. The further from Tristan she got, the easier it was to remember the reason for her silence and to justify it. Isaiah was just as determined to find answers as she was, but Quinn believed that he was searching in all the wrong places.

  Quinn pulled into town and reached for her phone. Dialing the number she knew by heart, she waited for the line to connect.

  “I’m here,” she said.

  Chapter 18

  “So you’re dropping out... just like that?” Balthazar Blackman eyed his son intently. “After all that nonsense about wanting a proper education?”

  Jonas cringed, wishing he could take back every stupid reason he had given his father for wanting to go to school in the first place. He hated it there; the kids were cruel, and even the teachers treated him differently. Unable to bear the smug expression on his father’s face, he offered the only explanation that Balthazar wouldn’t question.

  “Things have changed now; you’ve found the City. I want to be a part of it.”

  This statement brought Balthazar up short. His greatest wish was that Jonas would come around to his way of thinking; that the boy would embrace the search as so many Blackmans had done before him. Jonas’s words warmed Balthazar’s heart, but he had a nagging suspicion that his son was not being entirely truthful. Their relationship had been strained since that evening when Balthazar had allowed the others access to Rowena. In truth, Balthazar regretted his actions more than he could ever say. He had reacted in anger and Rowena had paid a terrible price. The sight of her, the morning after, haunted his dreams. Unbeknown to her he had put a stop to it that very day. When the women went down to bathe in the stream he had retracted his words, instructing the men in camp that she was once more under his protection. They had not laid a finger on her since, but Balthazar could not bring himself to look at her, and the shame of what he had done to her kept him isolated. He could never take it back, and she could never forgive him. He wouldn’t let her.

  Drawing himself back to his son, Balthazar realised that Jonas had been particularly secretive since meeting that girl, Monique, and her Guardian friends. He deliberated. He did not want to alienate his son by accusing him of something that he wasn’t even sure of.

  “Fine,” he conceded eventually. “I’ll go in to the school myself tomorrow. I’ll tell them we’re moving away, although I’m sure they won’t contest it.” Balthazar was all too aware of the school’s disdain for their lifestyle. “You don’t have to go back.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I wasn’t done.” Jonas braced himself for what might come next. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. There was always a price to his father’s mercy.

  “What is it?”

  “Your friend, Monique,” Balthazar began, and Jonas stiffened.

  “What about her?”

  “Where did you meet her?”

  “At school,” Jonas lied. Balthazar hadn’t been sure before, but he knew now, without a doubt, that his son was lying. Any girl who was running with Guardians would never be enrolled in the local high school.

  “Son,” Balthazar kept his temper in check, “I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to tell me the truth.” His dark eyes held Jonas’s for a long moment and Jonas felt the shackles of his father’s deduction closing in on him. “Do you know what those people are?”

  “Which people?” Jonas feigned ignorance, which only served to anger his father even more.

  “Quinn,” Balthazar replied calmly, “and Tristan. Monique’s friends.”

  The loaded question didn’t need any clarification. He had singled them out. He hadn’t asked about Camille, only the Guardians. Balthazar knew the truth. What he was really asking was whether Jonas would try to protect them. But he hadn’t asked about Monique, Jonas realised, which meant that maybe he didn’t know about her. It was something to cling to.

  “They’re Guardians,” he admitted, choosing his words carefully.

  “You knew?”

  Jonas nodded.

  “And when exactly did you plan on telling me?”

  Jonas changed tack. His biggest fear was that Balthazar would forbid him from seeing Monique.

  “I thought I could try to get close to them. That I might be able to find a way for us to get into the City…” he trailed off, feebly. He had never been much good at lying, and he couldn’t think of anything to say that would make sense as to why he hadn’t mentioned it. Fortunately Balthazar was distracted by the seed that Jonas had sown. Why not, he thought. They had found the City, but they knew little of the Guardians themselves. If Jonas could infiltrate their community, they might find some way to achieve their goals without conflict.

  Jonas sat perfectly still, saying nothing. He felt as though he had thrown his best friend into the flames. He had surrendered the girl he loved, however unwittingly, and he could not take it back. To his utter astonishment, Balthazar dismissed him, with one final instruction.

  “Stay close to the girl. I want to know everything.”

  Jonas quickly agreed. Scrambling to his knees, he back-pedaled, grateful to have escaped so lightly.

  “And Jonas,” Balthazar added as he turned to leave, “this conversation stays between us.”

  As Jonas walked away, his mind troubled, Rowena approached him with a small smile.

  “He said yes?” she asked, her eyes dancing. Jonas tried to assume a carefree expression.

  “He did.”

  “I told you he would.”

  “I don’t understand why you still defend h
im,” Jonas sighed. “How you can even see any good in him after everything he’s done to you?”

  “You are still young, Jonas,” Rowena pointed out. Unlike the others, she didn’t mean it as an insult, or speak down to him. She understood the naiveté of youth only too well, and she loved Jonas dearly. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  Rowena was bitterly afraid that Jonas would learn the truth about why she and Balthazar had parted ways. She did not regret what she had done; selling her body to willing men had been the only way to ensure that Balthazar could continue with the search. If she hadn’t done it, the gypsies would never have made it this far; but even so, she didn’t want Jonas to know. He was as good as her son, and she couldn’t bear for him to be ashamed of her. She was eternally grateful that Balthazar, despite his fury, had not outed her. She was also pleasantly surprised that although Balthazar had proclaimed her common property for the gypsy men who would have their way with her, they had not touched her again since that first night. Hopefully, after her pitiful performance, they had deemed her to be unworthy of their attentions. Rowena prayed it would stay that way, but she knew that whatever happened she would deal with it. It was a small price to pay for the depth of her betrayal, and nothing the other women in camp did not endure.

  Jonas didn’t press the issue. He knew Rowena would tell him nothing more, and, in truth, he was relieved. As much as he wanted to get her as far away from here as possible, the thought of leaving Monique crucified him.