The Cathedral of Cliffdale (26 page)

“He’ll go to the police. We need to get out of here, now.”

“He won’t go anywhere,” Balthazar barked, “He’s
married
, Rowena, or did you miss the ring on his finger while he was fucking you?” she flinched at the uncharacteristic vulgarity. “He’s hardly going to admit to his wife what he’s been up to,” Balthazar continued, his chest heaving.

This much was true, Rowena thought thankfully. With any luck the man would simply claim he had been robbed and beaten by an unidentifiable assailant.  She opened her mouth to speak but Balthazar beat her to it.

“How
could
you?” he asked desolately, his eyes wild with desperation. “How could you do this?”

“Balthazar, I...”

“You’re a whore,” he spat, not giving her a chance to explain. “A vile, filthy whore.”

“Where do you think the money comes from?” she retorted furiously, guilt making her even more acerbic, when all she wanted to do was grab hold of him and never let go. “In all your pig-headed ignorance, did you never stop to wonder how much this search has cost? Selling a few potions and doing a couple of card-readings was never,
ever
going to cover it!”

“So you resorted to
this
?” he roared. “My God, did you think I would ever agree to this?”

“No! Of course I didn’t! And that’s exactly why you never knew. Because if I didn’t do this your search would have ended long ago and you wouldn’t have been able to deal with that. I did what I had to do.”

“We would have found another way.”

“No, we wouldn’t have. And you would have been miserable and without purpose,” she sneered. “You live to find the City. I do what I do to ensure that we all
live
.” Balthazar was still shaking, incandescent with rage and Rowena’s cheeks were flushed, her dark eyes stormy.

“We’re done,” he snarled, snatching up her skirt and hurling it at her. “Don’t come near me, don’t even
look
at me.” Rowena glared at him defiantly, covering herself with the crumpled skirt. “From this moment on, you are dead to me,” he finished hatefully.

Only once she was certain he was gone did she collapse to the ground, her body wracked with sobs.

Chapter 41

“That’s bullshit, Isaiah, and you know it!” Quinn was fast losing her fragile grip on her temper. She couldn’t believe that Isaiah would allow Rafe back into the City when he so clearly had a death sentence over his head.

“Quinn!” Piper attempted once more to diffuse the escalating conflict.

“We made a mistake,” Isaiah repeated. “Rafe should never have been taken out. I am to blame for that and it is a decision I regret deeply. All I can do now is to try to repair the damage that I have done.”

“You tried to save him and you did! Rafe deserves our protection. He’s ten times the wolf Caleb could ever be.”

Rafe had won his pack's allegiance through physical prowess as well as social efforts and building alliances throughout the pack. He had been a popular and capable leader. Caleb struck Quinn as nothing but cruel and vicious – a power-hungry wolf who would rule through fear and intimidation.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Isaiah consented, “but we are protectors, not Gods. We don’t get to decide.”

“We could,” Quinn countered, the thought occurring to her. “We could exile Caleb – send him back to man’s realm. We brought him here; surely we are responsible for his actions? Why can’t we just send him back where he came from? We could reinstate Rafe and... ”

“We cannot send Caleb back,” Isaiah intoned. “Caleb is everything you say he is, but he is our responsibility, not just within the walls of the Ark, but for every action he commits outside of it, too.” That brought Quinn up short as she realised what he was implying.

“Goddammit!” she cursed, a feeling of helplessness washing over her.

“If Caleb is capable of such intolerable cruelty within the City’s boundaries, just imagine the bloodshed if we return him – angry and humiliated – back to man’s world. Any lives that he may take outside of Summerfeld will be on our hands.”

Quinn shook her head angrily.

“Then we kill him,” she announced suddenly. Piper gave a gasp of shocked disbelief, but Isaiah simply smiled in understanding.

“We cannot take the life of a ward, Quinn. No matter how deserving that ward may be,” he added sympathetically. Of course he was right. The very second the thought had occurred to her, Quinn had dismissed it. No Guardian could bring themselves to kill a ward. Their very blood refused it. “Unless of course you know of someone who might do it for us?” Isaiah jested. The very thought was ludicrous given that the Guardians were the only ones who knew of the City’s existence. Except of course, the vampires - any one of whom would be more than willing to murder a ward of Summerfeld but no Guardian would ever be on speaking terms with a vampire. No Guardian but Quinn.

The thought of Drake disappeared as quickly as it had come. Isaiah was right – this was Guardian business. And, as much as she despised him, Caleb was a werewolf, and werewolves belonged in the Lunar Grove.

“He has to be punished, at least,” Quinn persevered. “Surely he has to be taught that his actions are not without consequences. If not, what will stop him from slaughtering half the pack every time he doesn’t get his way?”

“Daniel will be back tomorrow and we will make a decision... together.” The mention of Daniel’s name reminded Quinn of why she was here in the first place.

“Isaiah, Avery’s crystal... ”

“I know,” he smiled. “You’ve figured out its location – Daniel sent word.”

“I have. Well, I think I have. And I want to negotiate... ” Isaiah silenced her with a wave of his hand.

“Let’s wait for the others, Quinn. We will discuss everything tomorrow at a full meeting of the council.” It was no less than she expected – Isaiah would not be able to accede to anything without the others anyway.

“Well, in that case, I’m going in,” Quinn fetched her trusty duffel from where she had dropped it near the far wall. “Will Rafe be okay?”

“For now. He’ll stay here with Channon until she’s fully recovered. But he will have to return to the City before the next full moon. They both will.” Quinn sighed. “You know Rafe is going to challenge him?”

“Yes,” Isaiah nodded sagely. “And I also know that he has no hope of winning.”

“So we’re just going to let him die.”

“We’re going to do what we should have done from the beginning. We’re going to let the wolves resolve this their own way.” Quinn bit down hard on her tongue to keep from passing a sarcastic, hateful comment.

“You coming, Piper?” she called, and, grateful for the inclusion, Piper got to her feet.

“One more thing,” Quinn turned back to Isaiah, “is Tristan...?” She let the question hang between them.
“Tristan is in Summerfeld,” Isaiah replied knowingly, a small smile playing about his lips. Inhaling deeply, Quinn met Piper’s gaze over the altar and, in unison, they closed their eyes and moved through the Gateway to enter the City.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Piper said, when they were finally alone; the fountain gurgling and splashing beside them. “You
are
back, aren’t you?” she added when Quinn didn’t respond.

“I think so. We’ll see what tomorrow brings. And I’m glad to be back too. I missed you. Really.”

“You had to do what you had to do,” Piper replied magnanimously.

They walked together through the small village, parting only when Quinn took a left turn towards her old quarters. Every Guardian had their own place in the town, interspersed amongst the Fae and Werewolf homes. It was, after all, the place they spent most of their time as Guardians, except for the Hunters, who were travelling more often than they were home.

Quinn made her way to Rourke’s old house – a house that would now belong to his successor – Tristan’s niece, Monique. Rapping on the door she heard a young voice call, “I’ll get it!” It was such an ordinary, human response that Quinn was still smiling when Monique yanked open the door.

“Quinn!” she cried excitedly, “you’re back!”

“I’m back,” Quinn grinned, “can I come in?”

“Sure,” Monique turned back into the house, her long red braid falling almost to her waist. “Mom!” she yelled unnecessarily, given that the entire house consisted of only four rooms – kitchen, living-room, bed and bath. Every Guardian had their own place and the small homes were intended for only one person. Monique and Camille must be sharing the tiny bedroom.

Camille emerged from the bathroom, drying her hands on a small cream towel that she must have brought with her – it looked far too synthetic to have been made in Summerfeld.

“Hello Quinn,” she spoke in a soft, shy voice that was in complete contrast to her daughter’s. “It’s good to see you again.” Quinn wondered if that was entirely true. The last time she had seen Camille, she had not been coping well with Monique’s induction into the Guardianship. Quinn was fairly certain that had it not been for her fear of the unknown, and the inexplicable white tattoo that had appeared on Monique’s wrist, Camille would have whisked Monique away the first opportunity she had.

“I actually wanted to speak to you about something,” Quinn ventured. “It has to do with Tristan. And my sister, Avery.”

“Oh,” Camille did not look at all surprised. “You’re here about the children.”

“You know?”

“Tristan told me,” she admitted. “And he asked me if I would care for them. He said that they would be sent away otherwise?” Camille was seeking confirmation and Quinn nodded quickly.

“Yes. There is no one else to care for them here. If you cannot take them they will have to stay outside, in man’s realm.”

“Man’s realm?” Camille frowned.

“The real world,” Monique explained, rolling her eyes at her mother’s ignorance.

“Oh, right. Yes, he mentioned that. Well, these are my brother’s children we are talking about, so I can’t very well say no.”

“But?” Quinn sensed it coming.

“Well, I have a few concerns. First, Monique is going through a lot right now,” understatement of the century, Quinn thought wryly, “and she needs me,” Camille continued. “Secondly, I fear that we may not be here for too much longer. I would hate to give the children a home only to have it wrested from them again.” This did not concern Quinn in the least. Monique would never leave Summerfeld so Camille would never leave either, but Quinn did not want to make light of her discomfort so she nodded sympathetically.

“If you were to leave, would you consider taking the children with you? You would be compensated, of course.”

“Compensated!” Camille squeaked indignantly. “These are children we are talking about. I will take them because they are family, not because I want something out of it!”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn hastened to appease her, “I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that neither you nor Monique would have to suffer as a result of raising them.

“Well then, yes, to answer your question, I would want them to come with us. I cannot bond with the children if the arrangement is not permanent.”

“Perfect,” Quinn agreed. “Well then you have my word that if you leave the City, the children will stay with you wherever you live.” Camille seemed flustered by the ease of Quinn’s confirmation. “Do you have any other concerns?” Quinn asked politely. Camille reddened slightly under her gaze and Monique chuckled.

“Tell her the third thing, mom.”

Camille glared at Monique who was sprawled across the sofa. “Well,” Camille turned back to Quinn, “I’m not being ungrateful, and I am perfectly content with the simpler things in life, but I am a little concerned about the space...”

“She wants a bigger house,” Monique stated bluntly, cutting her mother short. Quinn actually laughed out loud at that.

“Of course you would have a bigger home,” she confirmed. “You could hardly raise three children here! In fact, it’s too small even for you and Monique. I’ll ask Kellan to get you set up in something more suitable immediately.”

“That is very kind, thank you,” Camille looked relieved. “And Quinn,” she added, as Quinn turned to leave, “I would have taken them even in this tiny bed-sit, you know. They’re my blood. You don’t abandon your blood.” Her tone was fiercely protective and Quinn knew she had made the right decision asking Camille to be Jack and Ava’s foster-mother. In fact, she mused to herself as she made her way back up the cobbled street, it seemed that, while Guardians pride themselves on being infinitely wiser than ordinary men, they could certainly learn a thing or two from their human counterparts about the importance of family.

Chapter 42

Quinn had lived in Summerfeld for almost a century before Avery’s death, but she hadn’t been back to her home in the City since she had taken Jack and Ava on as her own, almost two years ago. She opened the door, which had no lock, much like every other abode within the City’s boundary. There were no secrets in Summerfeld, only a deep love and trust of one another. Common courtesy was observed without question and no-one had entered Quinn’s house since she had left. Taking in the dust trailing across every surface, Quinn sighed, thinking wistfully of Alice, her Brookfield char. With nothing else to do she set about cleaning, starting with the kitchen. She meticulously wiped everything down and mopped the floor, emptying bucket upon bucket of dirty brown water down the stone sink. Water, supplied directly from the same river that flowed through the fountain, was fed through to every residence in town.

Slowly the room transformed. Standing on a high chair, Quinn unclipped the netted curtains, and submerged them in a sinkful of soapy water. The Fae made everything that they needed to survive from natural sources – soaps infused with lavender, lamps fuelled by natural oils, linen made from the cotton plants, exotic fruit, vegetables and legumes that, when coupled with the deer and boar the Fae hunted, provided a balanced food source. Everything was stored and the stock was permanently replenished, so that the City's inhabitants could simply help themselves. There was no currency, no method of payment and nothing ever ran out – Eldon’s magic had ensured an abundance of every conceivable resource they would ever require. Kellan and other members of the Fae oversaw all the farming within the community.  

When the curtains had been washed and rinsed to her satisfaction, Quinn made her way outside. She was just hanging them over a hawthorn hedge and mourning the loss of human luxuries, such as her dryer, when she heard a lilting voice calling her name. Hastening back inside she found Freya standing on her doorstep holding a covered basket. The sight of Freya’s swollen belly filled Quinn with a renewed sense of awe.

“Hi Freya!” she smiled. “Please come in. I’m sorry about the mess,” she added, grimacing at the amount of work she still had to do. She had spent all morning just cleaning the kitchen.

“I would have kept it clean for you,” Freya lisped softly, “but I didn’t want to just invade your home.”

“It’s okay,” Quinn eased her concerns. “It’s my mess, I’ll sort it out.”

“I’d like to help,” Freya insisted. “I need something to keep my mind off of things.” Quinn realised, with a flash, that Freya was harbouring the guilt of having sent Channon back to the wolves.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said quickly. “None of us could have known that Caleb was capable of this.” Freya smiled indulgently, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I brought you something to eat,” she changed the subject, holding up the basket she carried. Quinn caught a whiff of freshly baked bread. Her mouth watered.

“Thank you,” she accepted gratefully, taking the proffered basket and setting it down on the now gleaming kitchen counter. Freya didn’t want to talk about the wolves and she wouldn’t press her. “How are you feeling? Is the pregnancy going well?”

“It is. The baby is kicking a lot. She’s very active – definitely her father’s child.”

“She?” Quinn raised her brows in surprise.

“It’s just a guess,” Freya quickly corrected.

“So, it’s any day now, right?”

“Yes. I’m starting to feel the pain in my back that I am told signals impending labour.”

“It’s so wonderful,” Quinn’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

“That’s actually another reason I came by,” Freya smiled shyly. “Kellan and I would like you to be present at the birth... if you’re still here, that is.”

“Me?” Quinn squeaked, taken by surprise. “Why?”

“Because,” Freya explained, as if it were obvious, “you dedicate your life to protecting us. I think it’s only fitting that you are there to experience a new life coming into our world. After all, if it weren’t for the Guardians, none of us would be here. She is here because of you,” she rubbed her belly fondly, “and because you’re family – you’re like a daughter to us.”

Quinn was so touched that she had to take a moment to compose herself. Freya waited patiently for her answer, completely at ease.

“Yes,” Quinn replied eventually, breaking the silence. “I would be honoured. Truly honoured.” Freya smiled then - a dazzling beam that lit up her ethereally pretty face.

“I’m so pleased,” she said, and Quinn could tell she really meant it. “Kellan will send for you when the time comes. Now,” she glanced around at the small living-room, “how about I help you get the rest of this place cleaned up?”

Despite Quinn’s insistence that Freya was too heavily pregnant to be doing manual labour, the Faery wouldn’t take no for an answer. Eventually, realising she could not deter Freya and that she was simply getting in the way, Quinn moved into her small bedroom to change the sheets and sweep the hardwood floors. Thankfully, the inside of her cupboards seemed to have escaped the blanket of dust and her clothes were fine to be worn, although they smelled a little musty.

The sun was low on the horizon when Freya finally left, having insisted Quinn eat before she did. Feeling filthy, Quinn ran a small bath, with water that was only just tepid, thanks to a natural geyser below the City. Dressed in one of her older pairs of jeans and a pale mauve polo-neck jersey, she went in search of Tristan. Apologising to him had been the first thing on her mind when she had come through the portal, but her nerves had set in and she had put it off all day, using Freya’s visit and the ceaseless cleaning to distract her. Now, though, there was nothing left to postpone the inevitable, and Quinn didn’t want their first encounter to be at the council table tomorrow, surrounded by nine other Guardians.

As it was, she didn’t have to go very far. Tristan’s house, a mirror image of her own, was only a few doors down, and she could tell by the soft light emanating from the window that he was at home.

Quinn knocked at the front door, trying not to think about the fact that the last time she had visited this house she and Tristan had been dating. After Avery’s return, Tristan and Avery had spent most of their time inside Summerfeld at Avery’s house, and soon after learning of Avery’s pregnancy, they had moved out into the realm of man. Tristan had returned almost immediately to the Guardianship and Avery had stayed behind with the children. It was a rare occurrence that female Guardians had children of their own, given the amount of time and dedication that the Guardianship required. Usually, the male Guardians developed relationships with human girls and children were borne of these relationships. The Guardian fathers continued with their duties as normal, seldom visiting their children, although they were always kept track of. Tristan and Avery’s situation had been unique and Avery had been allowed to raise Jack and Ava herself, or so Quinn had believed, but Tristan had been made to return. The council could not allow two Guardians to be absent for such an extended period of time. As it turned out, Avery had never intended to raise the children herself and provisional plans had been made with Kellan and Freya.

“Quinn?” Tristan’s voice roused Quinn from her reverie, and she shook her head, clearing her thoughts.

“Hi,” she smiled shyly. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he opened the door, allowing her to pass. His house looked exactly the same as the last time she had been here, the only thing that had changed was the picture above the fireplace. Quinn remembered the painting of the Unicorn Glade that had hung there before, a panorama of beauty. Now, in its place, hung a portrait of Avery, so lifelike that Quinn held her breath as she gazed upon it. Forgetting Tristan, she stepped towards it, taking in the soft lines of Avery’s face and the dark mass of hair that tumbled down over her left shoulder.

“Freya did it for me, shortly after... after Avery passed away,” Tristan murmured from behind her.

“She was so beautiful,” Quinn swallowed down the lump in her throat.

“That’s pretty ironic,” he said, and Quinn turned to find him smiling at her, “seeing as you look exactly the same.”

Quinn had never thought of herself as beautiful. She had always held Avery on a pedestal and acknowledged that her sister had been stunning, but for some reason she had never thought of herself in the same way, despite the fact that their features were identical. Perhaps it was the fact that Avery had been soft, much softer than Quinn had ever been. She was kind and sweet, and she had always known just what to say to make people feel comfortable and better about themselves. Facing Tristan now, Quinn wished she had Avery’s knack for finding the right words to convey what she was feeling.

“I came to apologise,” she blurted out. “I never thought about it before, but you were right. I am the reason you lost contact with the children. And if the truth be told, you weren’t a terrible father...”

“Thanks,” he chuckled, not sure whether she was insulting or complimenting him.

“The point is, I’ve been selfish and I know I can’t change what’s happened, but I promise you, I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that Ava and Jack are brought back here... so that you can see them anytime you want.”

“You’re going to bargain with Avery’s crystal?” he mused thoughtfully.

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not done. I’m also sorry about the other night. I’m sorry that I made you feel that you had to leave so suddenly.”

“You didn’t,” he muttered, comprehension dawning on his handsome face.

“I didn’t? But you left... you didn’t even say goodbye.”

“I left because it was easier to go than to stay, Quinn. I left because it was too hard to be so close to you and yet so far. I know it’s wrong... God help me, I
know,”
he glanced up at Avery’s portrait with a pained expression, “but I can’t help how I feel. And I’m no fool. I can see the way you look at me. I know that I remind you of her, and for that reason I have to stay away from you. It’s not easy, but it’s the least you deserve.”

“What are you saying, Tristan?” Quinn was struggling to make sense of his words.

“I’m saying that I loved your sister. I will always love her. But I think I made a mistake six years ago.”

Quinn stiffened. Six years ago Tristan had met Avery and he had left Quinn to be with her.

“I saw the way you looked at her. If Avery were still here you would never be saying these things.”

“Maybe not,” he shrugged; looking even more bewildered than Quinn was feeling. “That’s why I left. I honestly don’t know and I can’t give you a straight answer.”

“You never felt for me the way you did for my sister,” Quinn repeated.

“Then how do you explain the fact that when I look at
that
,” he gestured at the portrait, “I do not see my wife?” His voice rose dangerously and Quinn’s heart seemed to drop into her stomach as she anticipated his next words before he even opened his mouth, “I only see you.”