“Looks like we got her attention,” Quinn remarked wryly as she heard Charlotte’s wail. She watched as four cars pulled up behind the first and passengers emerged from each.
“I count eighteen,” Liam said, performing a quick scan.
“There might be a few more still in the house,” Quinn reminded. Her nausea hadn’t settled during the course of the afternoon, although it had certainly lessened, which meant that at least one vampire still remained inside. It would seem that at least some of the occupants might have taken shelter in the dungeon below during the fire after all. Pulling out her sword, she handed it over to Liam.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“Absolutely. She doesn’t know who replaced Isaiah. Just try to make it look like you know what you’re doing.”
“No chopping my own head off, then?” he jested, eyeing the lethal blade nervously.
“Something like that. Oh look, we’re down to seventeen!”
Charlotte, in her blind rage, had grabbed the driver of her car and proceeded to tear into him, taking her frustration out on one of her own. It seemed to be a common vampire coping mechanism and Quinn was reminded again of what set them apart. The Guardians and their allies pulled together in times of crisis, whereas the vampires were volatile and just as likely to turn on their own as on their enemies. Even Drake had displayed a slight tendency to do the same when he had turned on Quinn for that brief period during which he had realigned himself with Charlotte. When Charlotte was done, the driver’s headless corpse lay at her feet. Before his body had even disintegrated, she kicked it aside, rounding on the others. They seemed to be in a state of shock, staring at her in fear and confusion.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Charlotte roared, spittle flying from her lips. “Get inside!”
Quinn allowed herself a small satisfied smile. Charlotte wouldn’t give a damn about survivors. The only reason she would want to get inside the house was if something valuable remained. It seemed her gamble had paid off.
“She’s going after the crystals,” Liam whispered, echoing Quinn’s thoughts.
“Wait,” Quinn placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Let them clear the path for us.”
It took only a few minutes for the vampires to shove aside the rubble and ruin, clearing the way for Charlotte to reach the entrance to the dungeon. The wooden door had been burned away, but the stone steps were still visible.
“Okay,” Quinn nodded at Liam and they both got to their feet. “Definitely time to go.”
Charlotte had taken only two steps down the dungeon stairwell when she heard a roar behind her. Turning, she watched in disbelief as a Guardian swung his heavy silver sword in an arc, beheading one of her men. For a second she believed that the Slayer had somehow survived her attack, but, as he turned on his next victim she caught sight of his face and realised that this was not the same man she had run through with his own sword. This Guardian had dark hair and his face was both older and somehow younger than the Slayer she had killed. Her surprise dulled her instincts and two more men had fallen before she gathered her thoughts. She stepped out of the dungeon stairwell, prepared to take his life, as she had his predecessor’s. It was then that she spotted Quinn, fighting her own battle, just behind him. Her stakes flashed faster than Charlotte believed possible, taking down two vampires at once and Charlotte suddenly realised that her numbers were already drastically reduced.
The vampire nearest to her lunged toward the Slayer, his fangs bared, but Charlotte jerked him back, her sharp nails gouging deep into his shoulder.
“Don’t bite him, you idiot!” she roared, and the vampire’s eyes widened as he recalled the legend. “Nobody bite him!” Charlotte shrieked, warning her men. “The Slayer’s blood will kill you instantly!”
The vampires surrounding Liam hesitated, more cautious, but Charlotte shoved those nearest her forward.
“Cowards! Get them! Take them alive, if you can!” she ordered, although she had no intention of following her own instructions. Aleksei wanted the Guardians alive but she would not allow Quinn to live. She would kill the bitch herself and claim it was self-defence. Enough vampires had died tonight that Aleksei would not question her. Deliberately avoiding the group around the Slayer, Charlotte moved toward Quinn.
Quinn saw Charlotte coming but she forced herself to focus on the immediate threat. She staked a vampire so hard that she couldn’t withdraw her stake, but, in the second it took for his body to fall, she withdrew another from her belt. The ornate inscriptions under her fingers comforted her and she gripped the stake more tightly, ducking to avoid an almighty swipe from her next opponent. Using his momentum against him, Quinn shoved him hard, sending him sprawling into the debris littering the floor.
“Nice digs,” she taunted Charlotte, who was now only a few paces away, but her eyes never left the male vampire who had stepped before her. “I really like what you’ve done with the place.” Distracted, the vampire turned to see who she was speaking to and Quinn jabbed viciously forward with her left hand, her stake grazing his side. His yelp of pain couldn’t mask Charlotte’s snarl of fury and Quinn prepared herself for the violent attack that was imminent. She had riled Charlotte and she took an enormous amount of pleasure in that fact. As Charlotte darted forward Quinn whirled to face her, striking out behind her as she did, her stake slipping between her arm and her side to impale the injured vampire’s stomach. He was hurt, but not fatally so and he seized her by the shoulders. Charlotte, realising Quinn might die by another’s hand, gave a roar of warning but it was too late. She locked eyes with Quinn as the vampire plunged his fangs into Quinn’s neck.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Quinn felt the searing heat of the bite, and Charlotte froze, watching in abject horror as the vampire behind Quinn lifted his head, his face a mask of shock. Grey lines spread from his mouth, expanding outwards and his skin started to shrivel. As he turned grey, the ash already dispersing in the light breeze, Quinn saw understanding dawning on Charlotte’s face, along with fury that she had been played for a fool. She had been taken in by their ploy to ensure that none of her men would bite Liam and no one would know that Quinn was, in fact, the Slayer. Quinn could only imagine how irate Charlotte must be that the Guardian she hated most was now the most powerful of them all.
“You!” Charlotte hissed, fear and fury blending into the shocked expression of outrage on her face.
“Yes,” Quinn smiled, stepping forward. “Me.”
Charlotte turned to yell instructions, no doubt to tell her men to rip Liam to pieces, but while she had been distracted Liam had finished off the last vampire standing. Their refusal to bite him had given him the ultimate advantage. Quinn’s ploy had worked like a charm. Now, only Charlotte remained, but they could hear footsteps coming from the dungeon steps.
“Deal with them,” Quinn instructed and Liam turned to face the oncoming threat, blocking the stairs so that they couldn’t surround him. He would fight only one opponent at a time and his higher vantage point made it easier to pick them off.
Quinn faced off with Charlotte and the two circled each other, each waiting for an opportunity to make her move.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” Charlotte sneered, her hands out in front of her. “Watching you die.”
“Do you always talk so much?” Quinn countered, holding her stakes at the ready. The wreckage made it difficult to manoeuvre, but she kept a firm footing, never faltering. She was surprisingly calm and it was Charlotte who made the first move, her thirst for vengeance overwhelming her common sense. Leaping forward, she all but flew toward Quinn, her feet never touching the ground despite the vast space between them. Quinn braced herself, lifting both stakes in a cross above her head as Charlotte landed heavily on top of her. The force of the impact knocked them both to the ground, Quinn’s stakes clattering as they spun away from her. She would never find them in the debris so she reached for her belt. As she did, Charlotte ripped it from her waist
, and hurled it through the air. It landed with a soft thud on the grass twenty yards away.
Quinn had no time to worry about the loss of her weapons. She shoved Charlotte off her and both women got to their feet. Each was at a disadvantage. Quinn had lost her stakes, but Charlotte could not bite her. Quinn was vaguely aware of the swishing sound the sword made as Liam continued to deal with the vampires emerging from the basement and it comforted her to know he was still fighting. Bracing herself, she faced Charlotte again. This time, Charlotte didn’t waste a moment. Hurling herself at Quinn, she body-barged her, shoving her a few yards backward before the small of Quinn’s back hit a section of wall that hadn’t collapsed in the fire. The abrupt stop jolted Quinn and her teeth snapped together painfully. Reaching up, she grabbed hold of Charlotte’s face, her thumb and forefinger gouging ruthlessly into the vampire’s skin, the arch of her hand between Charlotte’s lips. Quinn could sense Charlotte resisting the urge to bite down on her soft flesh, knowing it would be the last thing she ever did. As the pain in her face became too great, Charlotte stepped back, giving Quinn the breathing room she needed. She swung her left arm up and smashed her closed fist against Charlotte’s jaw, earning herself the pleasurable sound of bones crunching. Sadly, a few of her own bones broke in the process, and a shooting pain flashed through her hand and up her arm.
Charlotte retaliated viciously, punching Quinn back, so hard that her neck snapped violently to the right, and then, before she could recover, Charlotte kicked her hard in the abdomen, doubling her over with pain. Quinn licked her bottom lip, tasting the blood there, and an idea came to her. A crazy, stupid idea; but she was out of options. A quick survey of the ground around them and she spotted what she was searching for. A pile of wood, broken and fragmented, lay near the far end of the house where the fire had burnt less fiercely. She wasn’t sure she could make it, but there was only one way to find out.
Quinn broke into a sprint, dodging Charlotte’s outstretched arms and hurtling toward her target. She leapt over rubble and the charred remains of Charlotte’s furniture, listening intently. Charlotte moved like a ghost and there was no way to tell how close behind she was. Quinn daren’t turn around and find out because that slight pause would cost her dearly. Finally, when she was just a few feet away from her destination, Quinn heard the audible snap of a floorboard behind her and she turned just in time to find Charlotte almost upon her. Quinn didn’t try to prevent the impact. Instead, she let Charlotte collide with her, the momentum launching them both into the air. In the moments while they were airborne, Quinn closed her eyes, bracing herself for what was to come. Time seemed to stand still as her body fell toward the ground. When she finally landed, heavily, on her back, Charlotte’s weight crashed down on top of her. Stifling a scream of pain that rose in her throat, Quinn bit down on her own tongue, while Charlotte’s eyes widened in delight at the sight below her. An ugly splinter of wood protruded from Quinn’s abdomen, scarlet with her blood. Quinn could feel at least three others, piercing her arms and legs. She had purposely impaled herself. It was tantamount to suicide. For the briefest of seconds, Quinn watched as Charlotte basked in the glory that it had ended so easily. Then, the vampire raised her hand to land the final, lethal blow. Only when she saw Quinn’s lips curve up into a sadistic smile, did she realise her mistake. Scrabbling for her shirt, she lifted it, gazing in horror at the small, circular hole just above her own navel. The wound was tiny and would have been insignificant, if it weren’t for the fact that the pointed splinter of wood was laced with Quinn’s blood. The blood of the Slayer.
“You wanted my blood,” Quinn murmured weakly, “you got it.” She watched as Charlotte’s body began to grey, the vampire’s eyes flicking up to meet hers as her decomposing body slumped sideways. The sound of the sword, still swishing through the air, seemed magnified, a glorious sound that Quinn relished. Liam would win, she thought proudly. Liam would survive. She had chosen well. A moment later Charlotte was gone and Quinn closed her eyes, giving way to the pain with nothing but the pile of ash beside her to witness it.
Chapter 15
Kellan finished feeding the baby Chumana dragons, which were growing by the day, and then hastened inside to find Freya, just as the sun was setting. He would never resent the fact that caring for the wards kept him from devoting all his time to her and Sage, but the few precious moments he snatched with his daughter were more important now than ever. Passing Drake and Braddon, sitting in companionable silence on the porch, he nodded a quick greeting before pressing on. The sight of Rowena inside, however, stopped him in his tracks. She paced the small space between the kitchen and the living room, her hands constantly moving, as though she couldn’t be still for even a second. Kellan’s kind-hearted nature could not allow him to leave someone so obviously in distress.
“Rowena?” he spoke softly, trying not to startle her, but the gypsy woman jumped regardless. “Are you okay?”
“I’m... fine,” she finished lamely.
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m worried about Jonas,” she admitted, without any further prompting.
“I thought he was healing?” Even Kellan had been amazed at the healing power of Rowena’s potions. Jonas’s arms had been crushed, but already he had regained mobility.
“He is,” Rowena said. “It’s not that. Physically, he’s doing well, but it’s his emotional state of mind that I’m worried about. He’s beside himself. We haven’t heard from the others and Monique is with them...”
“Ah.” Kellan, like everyone else, was well aware of the budding relationship between the youngsters. Rowena’s concern was born of maternal affection, something Kellan understood only too well. “Where is he now?”
“He’s upstairs,” she replied, glancing up at the ceiling, “I’ve tried talking to him, but he just gets angry at me.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Kellan offered, accepting with a heavy heart that his daughter would have to wait just a few more minutes.
“No,” a voice called from behind him, and Lenora stepped into the room, “let me. You need to go and see Freya,” she added pointedly. “Besides, I think I can help.”
Kellan looked to Rowena and she nodded in agreement. As Kellan left them, however, Lenora turned toward the front door.
“Jonas is upstairs,” Rowena pointed out.
“I know. I just need to speak to Drake first.” If Rowena found this strange, she didn’t say so, and Lenora emerged onto the porch. “God it’s good to be outside,” she announced, breathing in the cool night air. “The house smells like old people.”
“Technically the Lindbergs are a few hundred years younger than you are,” Drake pointed out.
“Yes, but I don’t smell like humbugs, talcum powder and musty mothballs,” Lenora boasted. “Braddon, darling,” she gave him her most charming smile, which was only slightly tempered by the full extension of her fangs. “Would you mind if I had a quick word with Drake? Alone?” she added, completely unnecessarily.
“Sure,” the Guardian replied, getting to his feet. “I need to go and check in with the others anyway.” Most of the other Guardians were now monitoring the perimeter that Daniel had mapped out, making sure that the entire farm was protected. They were a bit battered and bruised from their intense training with the vampires, but no one was complaining – the skills they were learning were invaluable.
“What are you up to?” Drake murmured when he was certain that Braddon was gone.
“How are they?” Lenora asked immediately and Drake knew she was referring to Quinn and the others.
“I have no idea. The last time I spoke to her was a few hours ago. I’m too scared to check on her in case I...”
“In case you interrupt at a bad time and get her killed?” Lenora pointed out dryly.
“That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. Look, I’ll come and sit with you while you wait, but I need to do something first. You’re not the only one who is waiting to
hear if someone you love has made it. I need to reassure Jonas. The kid’s freaking out and giving Rowena grey hairs. It doesn’t really do much for her – clashes with her colouring. She’s more of a dark autumn.”
Drake didn’t appreciate her sarcasm. “You can’t reassure Jonas!” Drake snapped, in a rare foul-temper. “No-one can know about the bond.”
“I know that,” Lenora muttered. “But I can compel him to calm down. I’d just feel better about it if I wasn’t absolutely lying to him in the process.”
“Grown a conscience, have we?” Drake relaxed as he understood her plan.
“Look who’s talking.”
“Last I checked, they were all fine,” Drake admitted. “Monique isn’t actually going to be involved in the fighting, so I’d say you’re pretty safe to tell him she’ll be okay.”
Noticing the small frown on his face as he finished, Lenora took his hand. “I wish you could be as sure about her.” He said nothing, but he squeezed her hand more tightly. “I’ll be back soon,” she promised, getting to her feet.
To Lenora’s surprise, Jonas wasn’t upstairs where Rowena believed him to be. Instead, she found him in the barn with the baby Chumana dragons. He sat slumped against the wall, tossing pieces of raw meat to the hatchlings, which were clicking and snorting as they scrabbled around him, wrestling with one another for the tasty morsels.
Jonas glanced up as Lenora entered, looking slightly apprehensive, but he relaxed when he realised it wasn’t Rowena, or his father, in another attempt to try and talk him out of his vile mood.
“Didn’t Kellan just feed them?” Lenora asked.
“Yeah. He left a few minutes ago. I waited until he was gone to come in.” He tossed another piece of meat in the air and then smiled as Lucky, Monique’s favourite pet, nipped one of the others to secure the treat for himself.
Lenora didn’t ask why he was feeding them again if Kellan had just done so. She knew why he was here. It was for the same reason she had stayed with the Guardians after Isaiah had died. The dragons were the closest he could get to Monique in her absence. He must be desperate, judging by the blister on his right hand and the scorch marks lining the bottom of his frayed jeans. A burning smell lingered in the air and Lenora wrinkled her nose.
Guardians of Summerfeld: Full Series: Books 1-4 Page 88