The Cathedral of Cliffdale (16 page)

Chapter 24

Unaware of the outsiders who stood watching from the crest of the hill, Quinn pushed open the Cathedral doors. 

The Cathedral was empty, and Quinn was relieved that she didn’t have to deal with Daniel or her father, let alone Tristan. She entered the City through the cathedral gateway and walked silently up the cobbled street. She was apprehensive about whether or not Drake had heeded her warning and left town, and even more so she was worried about Genevieve’s reaction to her near-staking. Genevieve did not strike her as the type who would let something like that go – in fact, Quinn was fairly sure she would seek vengeance the first chance she got.

Drake was an altogether different matter. Quinn could not consolidate her gratitude towards him with her lifetime of hatred for the vampire race. Drake had saved her life – twice. The irony of a vampire saving a Guardian was not lost on her. Her mixed feelings were an annoying distraction and Quinn did not want to get involved in vampire problems. With any luck, by the time she returned to Brookfield, Drake and Genevieve would be gone. She had to focus on finding Avery’s crystal. Over and over again she replayed Avery’s words in her head:
You will find it in the heart of my own
. Quinn was still certain it had something to do with Tristan. She would help Rafe and Channon with their full moon transformation and go straight back to resume the search.

“Back so soon, Quinn?” Isaiah’s voice penetrated her musings and Quinn looked up to see the Guardian standing right in front of her, the fountain gurgling innocently behind him. Tristan and his sister were there too, and between them, Monique, a dazzling grin on her petite, pretty face. The sun had given her cheeks a rosy warmth.

“I came back with Liam and Blair,” Quinn said pointedly, glaring at Tristan.

“Daniel only wants what is best for you.” Isaiah's response was predictably prudent, but Tristan’s response surprised Quinn.

“What? What do you mean? Did Daniel have Quinn followed?” he turned on Isaiah in disbelief and anger. “Quinn is one of us!” he continued, when Isaiah’s silence confirmed the worst. “Since when do we keep tabs on one another?”

“Calm down, Tristan.” Isaiah glanced pointedly at Monique, who was rubber-necking between them. Camille, on the other hand, looked excited for the first time since she had arrived. Dragons and trolls she had a problem with, but apparently family drama was something she could understand.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Isaiah. After everything we sacrifice, all the risks we take to keep the Gateway safe – how dare you treat any of us like common criminals? Surely we have earned your trust?”

Quinn’s eyes were as wide as Monique’s. Never would she have expected Tristan to defend her actions or come to her defence. She wholeheartedly agreed with everything he was saying, but she had always followed a slightly different path. Even as a dedicated Guardian, she had questioned their beliefs, the old ways. It was comforting to know that she wasn’t alone. And Tristan’s indignation on her behalf cheered her immensely.

“Of course you have earned the Guardians' trust,” Isaiah insisted. “I did not say that I agreed with Daniel’s course of action, only that I understood it.”

Much to Quinn’s chagrin, they followed her to Kellan and Freya’s, Monique still firing questions at Isaiah about everything, from the City itself to the latest section she had read of the Sacred Book. Isaiah answered her with the same infinite patience he had displayed when Quinn had joined the Guardianship, although her questions had only ever been about the book. Even now, Quinn racked her brain, trying to recall anything that might break the Guardian spell.

Isaiah would not allow Monique to witness Rafe and Channon’s transformation, more for the werewolves' benefit than anything else. The wolves would not harm the Guardians, even in wolf form, but their changing was both painful and shaming and was certainly not a source of entertainment. Rafe and Channon were outcasts, trying to adjust to a new way of life, and having strangers around would not ease their transition. Isaiah did, however, consent to allowing Monique to view the Chumana eggs that Kellan had deposited in his shed.

“When will they hatch?” Monique asked and Kellan smiled.

“In a few months, as far as I can tell.”

“How will you care for them?”

“I’ll feed them until they get too big for the shed, and then I’ll find somewhere safe for them to grow. I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, Isaiah,” he added. “I’m not really sure where they would be safe?”

“Giant’s Castle,” Isaiah responded immediately. “The mountains are their natural habitat and Giant’s Castle will be safe for them until they are old enough to return to Dragon’s Peak.”

“What about the giants and the dwarves?” Quinn interrupted. Giant’s Castle was a mountain named for the giants that dwelled on its slopes.

“I doubt these hatchlings will show any aggression towards either,” Isaiah replied, “so long as we keep them well-fed.”

“Can they fly when they hatch?” Monique brought the conversation back to the source of her fascination.

“No,” Kellan sat down on the floor beside her, “their wings are very fragile as newborns and not proportionate to their heavy bodies. They will be ready to fly when they are about a year old.”

“What if they burn down the shed when they come out?” Monique sounded more curious than concerned, as if she hoped the hatchlings might do just that.

“Dragons can’t breathe proper fire until they are fully matured, around the same time they learn to fly. Before that, their flames are manageable.”

“So they’re harmless for the first year?” she looked thoughtful.

“Essentially, yes. Their aggression is directly related to their ability to breathe fire.”

“Awesome.” Monique finally fell silent, but she obviously had great plans to make pets out of the eight Chumana babies. Quinn was fairly certain Camille would far rather her daughter have a puppy. She was also acutely conscious of Tristan’s eyes on her, but she refused to look at him.

“We should go,” Kellan murmured, appearing at her side and Quinn nodded, grateful for the respite. Leaving the others with Freya, Quinn half-expected Tristan would insist on coming with them, but thankfully, he stayed with his family.

Rafe and Channon lived on the opposite side of town from Kellan’s house, and they walked along in companionable silence.

“Kellan, Quinn,” Rafe greeted them as he opened the door. Quinn was shocked by the werewolf’s appearance – Rafe had always glowed with good health and his pride had bordered on the verge of arrogance. Now, his brown hair stuck up like a hedgehog's prickles – not deliberately tousled like Tristan’s, but rather dishevelled and unkempt. The growth of hair on his face proved he had not shaved for at least a week, and his eyes were hollow; haunted even. Channon was sitting at the kitchen table staring into space as they all took a seat.

“How are you coping?” Quinn asked gently and Channon’s eyes came to rest on her. Channon, too, looked as though the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Her usually glossy black hair was lacklustre, hanging in dirty, lifeless strands down her face. Her amber eyes were dull and there was an air of despair about her that frightened Quinn.

“Okay,” she answered, glancing quickly at Rafe, who stared back at her with ill-concealed resentment.

“She shouldn’t be here,” he barked roughly. “Her place is with the pack. Caleb has forbidden anyone to speak to me.”

“I told you, I’m not going,” Channon hissed, “I don’t belong to him. I don’t belong to anyone.”

“You have a duty!” Rafe retorted and Quinn was reminded painfully of her father. It seemed she and Channon had a lot in common and Quinn sympathised with the werewolf, but she could also see what Channon could not. Rafe’s words might seem harsh and callous, but they were borne out of concern for his mate.

“It seems as though Channon has made her choice,” Quinn interrupted, trying to diffuse the tension between them.

“It is not her choice to make!” Rafe argued. “Pack law dictates that the dominant male and his chosen mate are required to mate. Caleb has chosen Channon and, in refusing him, she jeopardises the pack hierarchy and puts them all at risk. Caleb is unstable - living alone for so many years has unhinged him and he could easily take his anger out on the others.”

“I can’t,” Channon was almost pleading, “I can’t just switch off my feelings, Rafe! You are my Alpha...”

“I am not!” Rafe’s eyes were wild, and Quinn understood that, with the full moon so close, his emotions were not entirely under control. “I am not the Alpha; not anymore. I am nothing.”

Channon half stood, determined to comfort him, before shaking herself and sitting back down again.

“Let’s just get you through this night,” Kellan spoke for the first time, “we can deal with the rest later.”

Rafe grunted, and then nodded reluctantly.

An hour before nightfall there was a firm rapping on the front door. Rafe and Channon were down to their underwear, drenched in sweat, the heat a typical symptom of their transformation. Kellan rose to his feet to answer the door but before Quinn could even register the sudden noise a short, stocky man erupted into the kitchen.

His hair was a tawny gold mane that fell to his shoulders and his eyes a deep brown, flecked with gold. He was attractive, in a dangerous, cruel way. For a second, the cold glint in his eyes reminded Quinn of Drake.

“Channon,” he called, his voice rasping and gravelly, “the full moon is upon us. You will accompany me to Lunar Grove.
Now
,” he added authoratively. “I have indulged you enough.” Quinn noticed how he ignored Rafe completely – as though the older wolf was not even present. Rafe did not react, keeping his eyes fixed on the table before him, but Quinn noticed a muscle going in his jaw.

Channon lifted her face, her eyes flashing defiantly.

“I will not,” she exclaimed haughtily. Caleb growled, a low, intimidating sound that started deep in his chest. His eyes were already changing – the brown lightening to an unnatural yellow, the pupils shrinking. Glancing at the others, Quinn noticed that their eyes were also morphing. The transition was not far off.

“You belong to me now,” Caleb growled.

“I belong to no-one!” Channon insisted, getting to her feet. “I’m a wolf one night of the month! I’m human the rest. I will not let the smallest part of me dictate my path.” Quinn sensed where she was headed and she stood too, realising the damage it would cause, but she was too late. “Rafe is my mate,” Channon snarled, “I will not leave him.”

The words had barely left her mouth when Caleb launched himself across the room, flying at Rafe in a frenzy of loathing. Channon’s words were the trigger – she had belittled the new Alpha in front of the very wolf whose place he had won. It was the ultimate insult and Caleb could not allow it. Quinn and Kellan charged forward, pulling at Caleb, trying to get him off Rafe, who was lying prostrate on the floor. It broke Quinn’s heart that he never once tried to defend himself; that he willingly submitted to the new Alpha’s dominance, as was their way. Channon was screaming, sounding part-human, part-wolf as her shrieks morphed into a howl.

Quinn had had enough. Pushing Kellan aside for his own safety, she grabbed Caleb under his arms and in one fluid movement she pulled him off Rafe and threw him aside. Caleb’s head connected painfully with the leg of Kellan’s discarded chair, and he leapt to his feet, a low growl emanating from his lips, which were pulled back in an ugly snarl. Quinn was not intimated and, ignoring Kellan’s cry of warning, she stepped between the two werewolves, lifting her arms and preparing to defend her friend. Channon flew to Rafe’s side, weeping, but determined, her top lip curled in anger.

“You are interfering in pack business, Guardian,” Caleb warned Quinn.

“It is my duty to protect the inhabitants of Summerfeld,” she retorted, “
all
of them. I do not want to hurt you, but I cannot allow this.” It struck her that Caleb was new to the City and that he had not spent his life being protected by the Guardians – he did not automatically trust them as the other werewolves did. In fact, it occurred to her that the way Caleb was looking at her – an expression of loathing and disgust in his yellow eyes – that not only did he not trust her, he didn’t like her either. Quinn recoiled; she had never come across a supernatural creature who showed such animosity for the Guardians.

“I should have killed him,” Caleb sneered, referring to the fight that had made him Alpha. “It was a mistake to let him live.”

“Well, you didn’t,” Quinn pointed out archly, “and I think it's time for you to go.” She glanced towards the still-open door. Dusk was falling – they didn’t have long.

“I want her,” Caleb nodded at Channon, who was still kneeling at Rafe’s side. The older werewolf was starting to stir, his face bloody and bruised. The leering look Caleb bestowed upon Channon made Quinn’s blood run cold. It was primal and shameless - he wanted to possess Channon, to control her and dominate her entirely. Unlike the other werewolves that Quinn knew, Caleb was driven entirely by his animal instinct.

“You need to go,” she repeated, ready to force him if necessary. “You have only a few minutes before sunset – we can resolve this tomorrow.” He seemed set to argue, and then a sadistic smile settled over his hard face.