Read The Cathedral of Cliffdale Online
Authors: Melissa Delport
“Geronimo!” Sarah yelled triumphantly and Todd fist-punched the air. Tristan met Quinn’s eye across the room, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Sarah and Todd’s good spirits were infectious - even Rafe seemed to have been roused from his usual melancholy, and was participating as best he could. Despite having three people on their team, they were losing badly.
“One of the downfalls of being a Guardian,” Tristan mumbled through a mouth full of potato crisps when Sarah and Todd went to fetch the dessert. “You don’t get to watch a lot of movies.”
“Try never watching any, ever,” Rafe countered, and Tristan looked horrified.
“I understand now why you left Summerfeld, Quinn,” Rafe continued, “you spent the last two years living like a normal person.”
“Raising two kids doesn’t exactly leave you much free time,” Quinn pointed out, without malice. The alcohol was warming her from the inside.
“It sucks to be us,” Rafe grumbled woefully, lifting his beer and examining its contents, while Quinn and Tristan tried to hide their amusement. The werewolf was very obviously drunk, and had become calmer, but infinitely more retrospective for it. “We should definitely have beer in Summer...”
“Let me help you with that!” Tristan interrupted, distracting Sarah who had just re-entered the room, carrying a tray of steaming coffee mugs. Quinn breathed a sigh of relief at his quick thinking, and shook her head at Rafe, who seemed oblivious to his near slip-up.
“Thank you,” Sarah breathed shyly, lowering her eyes as Tristan smiled down at her. Typical, Quinn thought. It takes him only one evening to utterly charm my closest friend. Briefly, her thoughts flitted to Piper from whom she had drifted so far apart. Piper was very like Sarah in so many ways and Quinn wondered idly if that was part of the reason she was so fond of her young neighbour. She would make it up to Piper, Quinn thought. After all, when she returned to the Guardians, she would probably never see Sarah again. The thought pained her, but it was the way of her world. Quinn had never had any human friends before – human lives were fleeting, and Quinn could think of nothing worse than watching those you cared about age and die.
“You guys ready to be annihilated?” Todd called confidently as he backed into the room, balancing two trays of plates laden with chocolate mousse on his arms.
“You haven’t won yet,” Quinn quipped, stepping forward and taking one of the trays from him.
“Oh, but we will,” he promised, winking at her.
And, of course, they did. Rafe was too drunk to even hazard a guess, and neither Tristan nor Quinn could make any sense of the titles they selected over the next few rounds. Todd and Sarah, on the other hand, operated like a finely-tuned machine, practically reading each other's minds.
“Annihilated,” Todd confirmed, nudging Quinn in the ribs as Sarah unnecessarily tallied up their scores.
“We won!” she announced, as though it surprised her, and Quinn laughed.
“I demand a recount,” she grinned. Meeting Tristan’s eyes, her smile slowly faded. Tristan was looking at her in a way that he hadn’t for years – in a way that she never dreamed he would look at her again. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest.
“I think we should take him home,” Quinn mumbled, turning her attention to Rafe in an effort to distract herself. Rafe was snoring quietly on the sofa in an upright position, his head drooping onto his chest. Sarah, who had been looking between Quinn and Tristan, immediately agreed.
“Why don’t you help Tristan, Todd?” she suggested, “Quinn, will you help me take these trays back to the kitchen.”
“Sure,” Quinn replied, puzzled. Sarah was no master of discretion, and it was apparent to everyone that she wanted to talk to Quinn in private. “What’s up?” she asked, the second they were out of earshot.
“Oh my God,” Sarah gushed, “did you see that?”
“See what?”
“Oh please, like you don’t know!” she scolded. “The way he was looking at you!” the gushing, simpering way that she said it made Quinn laugh, but she couldn’t deny it.
“We have a history,” she admitted.
“I knew it!” Sarah seized on this new piece of information with gusto. “He likes you, Quinn. You know that, right? Any fool could see that he’s into you.”
“He’s kind of out of bounds,” Quinn scraped the remnants of the tray she was holding into the bin. “It’s complicated; it can’t happen.”
“But you like him?” Sarah pressed, a small frown line appearing between her eyes.
“I...” Quinn paused, not sure how to answer the question. She had tried not to think about it.
“Quinn?” Todd’s voice in the hall was a welcome relief. “They’re home, safe and sound. Tristan said he’d see you there, and he said to thank
you
for a wonderful evening,” he added, speaking to Sarah.
“I better go,” Quinn dropped the tray back onto the counter and grabbed her purse. As much as she was nervous to face him after the look they had shared, it was even more important that he was not left alone in her house. “Thank you both so much. I’m heading out of town on Thursday,” she added, giving Sarah a quick squeeze. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be away, but I’ll call you.”
“Where are you going this time?” Sarah asked, but Quinn was already heading for the hall.
“I’ll call you!” she called over her shoulder.
The house was dark as she approached and the porch steps creaked as she climbed them. Quinn couldn’t explain why, but she was a bundle of nerves. Something had changed tonight between her and Tristan. The way he had looked at her had made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, things she had suppressed a long time ago, for the sake of her sister’s happiness.
“Avery would have wanted you to be happy,” Tristan had said. Was that true? Quinn couldn’t be sure, but a part of her suddenly desperately wanted to believe it. Letting herself into the house she locked the front door behind her and then leaned back against it, letting the hard wood against her spine steady her.
She knew he was there, only a few feet away. She could sense him, even though there was no light and he didn’t make a sound. He just stood, facing her, less than four yards away. Quinn took a few calming breaths, her eyes fixed on his silhouette. Neither of them spoke, but the more time that passed, the harder Quinn’s heart seemed to drum in her chest. She felt dizzy and guilty and exhilarated all at once.
“Quinn,” his low voice finally broke the silence, but Quinn didn’t hesitate, or give him a chance to say anything else. Determined, she took three strides towards him, stopping only when she was almost on top of him, and then she threw caution to the wind and her arms around his neck. As her mouth met his, Tristan needed no further invitation. His warm hands found her waist, and then moved in unison up her sides, eliciting a shiver that coursed through her whole body as they continued up and under her shirt. Quinn lifted her arms as his hands roamed higher, and Tristan kept moving, lifting her shirt up and over her head, and above her arms, dropping it the second it came clear of her body.
Running his hands back down her arms, Quinn squirmed as his fingertips brushed the soft hollow beneath her arms and then grazed only the outermost curve of her breasts before settling on her waist. Remarkably steady, he slipped his right hand around her waist and, in one swift movement, he pulled her even closer, their bodies pressed together as closely as possible and yet nowhere near close enough. Through it all he didn’t stop kissing her – exploring her mouth, playfully at first, and then more intimately, until she thought she might faint with longing.
“Where’s Rafe,” she gasped, her voice the huskiest of whispers.
“Upstairs, sound asleep,” he assured her. His touch was exactly as she remembered; only now he was stronger and more confident. He had grown up; the boyish protector had become a fully-fledged Guardian. He was also far more controlled. The younger Tristan had loved to rough and tumble, but this new Tristan was keeping the situation tightly reined in. Quinn could sense the enormous restraint he was exerting and it made her heady. Wantonly, she tangled her hand in his thick, messy hair and tugged, hard enough to hurt, trying to elicit a physical response from him. Tristan chuckled against her mouth and then kissed her, more deeply than before, his tongue harder and more invasive.
Still holding her waist, he pushed her backward, steadying her as they backed up together. Only when Quinn’s back hit the front door did he stop, raising his head and gazing at her. Quinn’s eyes were slowly adjusting to the light and she could make out the contours of his face and the dark pools of his eyes which she knew, by heart, were the most exquisite shade of blue. Quinn groaned, resting her head back against the door, closing her eyes and exposing her throat. Tristan obliged her, lowering his handsome head and kissing the hollow of her throat before tracing a line down to the swell of flesh above the lace of her bra. Lifting both her hands, he trapped them above her head with his left hand, and Quinn sighed, keeping her eyes closed.
She felt his warm thumb on her lip, tracing the cupid bow of her mouth. Opening her eyes, she found him gazing at her with love and longing. And in the instant that she registered the agonising adoration in his gaze, it occurred to her that she was, after all, Avery’s twin.
Painfully, Quinn yanked her hands from his grasp, the sudden movement taking him by surprise. He stepped away from her automatically, uncertain of her abrupt change of heart.
“Quinn?” his voice was still thick with passion, but through it she could hear the genuine concern.
“I’m sorry,” she shook her head, moving past him and switching on the lamp on the hall table. In the soft golden glow of light, he looked hurt and bewildered. Glancing down at her bare flesh, embarrassed, she quickly retrieved her shirt from the floor and pulled it over her head. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, making eye contact with him. Things had spiralled out of control so quickly she wasn’t even sure how she had let it get this far. Her head swam; Tristan, Avery, lust and guilt all merging into one painful, throbbing headache. “It’s just that...” and suddenly, she found that she didn’t want to tell him. It was humiliating and hurtful enough that he had left her once for her own sister, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit that her biggest fear was that he might be doing this because it was the closest he could get to Avery, and not because he felt anything for Quinn herself. Looking into his compassionate blue eyes, Quinn cringed, mortified. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, before fleeing the room.
The next few days passed without incident. Tristan’s easy-going nature could not be curbed for long, and he was soon back to his old self, their awkward moment seemingly forgotten, although Quinn caught him watching her often when he thought she wasn’t looking. The full moon came more quickly than seemed possible and the three set out for the woods beside the town’s abandoned train station. Quinn hadn’t seen Drake since her return, which bothered her, though she would never admit it. She assumed that he was keeping his distance because of Rafe and Trsitan’s presence, but she wished he had made contact. She would have liked his assurance that Genevieve wouldn’t present a problem now that Rafe was out in the open. He knew that the full moon would require them to take Rafe outside. She guessed she would just have to trust him.
“Fun?” Quinn huffed, breathlessly, as she once again pushed the heavy wolf back towards the fire. They had been standing vigil over Rafe for hours and every muscle in her body protested painfully. “You did say a camp-out would be fun, right?”
“You’re not having fun?” Tristan hissed back, his muscles straining as he added his strength. Rafe was trying to remain in control, but every now and again he would pick up a scent, his hackles would rise and he would start to move away from their small campsite.
“Here,” Tristan opened the trunk of his SUV, which was bigger than Quinn's hatchback. “Let’s get him inside, he’s going to make a run for it soon.”
Quinn had to agree. Rafe was not coping well and it wouldn’t be long before he couldn’t fight his instinct anymore. He had not hunted for two months and the abundance of wildlife around them must be driving him crazy.
Heaving and panting they finally got Rafe into the trunk and slammed it closed. Immediately he let out a howl of anguish, so loud that Quinn could feel the reverberations through the glass of the windshield she was leaning back against.
“I need to find him something to eat,” Tristan said, grabbing Quinn’s crossbow off the back seat.
“I can do it,” Quinn offered.
“I’m a better shot,” he reminded her, amused. He had always been better with a bow than she was, his skill rivalling that of even the Fae.
Tristan had only been gone a few minutes when it happened. A deer picked its way into the clearing, no doubt drawn by the flickering camp-fire. It happened so quickly that Quinn had barely turned, horrified, in the direction of the SUV, when Rafe burst through the glass, knocking her to the ground and bolting after the now-fleeing deer.
Quinn groaned as she pulled herself to her feet. She winced at the burning pain in her side and glanced down to see four deep lacerations where Rafe’s claws had grazed her as he passed, tearing through the fabric of her coat.
“Shit,” Quinn winced again as she pressed her hand down on the seeping wounds.
Drake fought the urge to go to her. He could smell her blood even from here, in the shadows, but he focused on what was more important. Quinn would want him to save the ward – the foolish wolf - who had streaked passed him just seconds before. To his relief and dismay, he heard the male Guardian approaching quickly - crashing through the trees. Tristan would make sure Quinn was okay. Silently, Drake turned and raced after Rafe.
“Quinn!” Tristan dropped the crossbow as he skidded to a halt beside her. Assessing her injury, he insisted she sit. Quinn allowed him only five minutes to fret over her and then she pushed him away. “Tristan,” she instructed. “Rafe is out there... go.”
“I’ll find him,” he promised, while Quinn’s heart raced frantically at the thought of Rafe alone in man’s realm. Just as Tristan was reaching for the bow, they heard a low growl behind them.
“Thank God,” Quinn could have wept in relief as the familiar grey and white wolf came into view, pulling the deer carcass along the ground behind him.
Content, Rafe settled down with his prey, his yellow eyes casting wary looks at them.
“I’m fine,” Quinn repeated, as Tristan fussed over her. It was barely more than a scratch. Satisfied, Tristan let her be.
“The worst is over,” Quinn mused a few hours later. Rafe had eaten his full and was now lying on his side, slitty-eyed, as he lingered between sleep and wakefulness. “Only a few more hours and the sun will be up.”
“Then what?” Tristan asked.
“Then I keep looking for that crystal.”
Tristan mulled over her words.
“Do you think we’ll ever get Jack and Ava back?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn admitted, her heart constricting painfully at the thought of her niece and nephew. She missed them so badly it hurt. “But I won’t stop trying to find them,” she promised, her jaw set stubbornly, “no matter how many obstacles the Guardians throw in my way.”
“Is that what Rafe and I are? Obstacles?” As if in agreement, Rafe let out a wolfish snarl.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. I never thanked you, Quinn... for taking care of them... for putting them first. For loving them.”
“What’s not to love?” Quinn smiled sadly, the last image she had of the children blossoming in her mind. Jack curled around Ava and Ava clutching her pink bedtime bear.
“They captured my heart,” she whispered.
And just like that, in a moment of pure clarity, Quinn knew, finally and without a doubt, where Avery’s crystal was hidden.
“Oh my God!” In her excitement she leapt up off the soft ground.
“What is it?” Tristan was on his feet too, on high alert for any danger.
“I know where it is,” she said, her eyes meeting his. Laughing, she threw her arms around him, barely feeling the tweak in her side. “I know where Avery’s crystal is!” she squealed, squeezing him tightly and bouncing in his arms. She could not contain her excitement and hardly noticed as his strong, tanned arms closed around her.
Drake watched from the shadows as the scene unfolded before him. They had not seemed to notice that the deer the wolf had dragged into the clearing had a broken hind leg. Drake had caught and wounded the deer to ensure the werewolf would catch it and head back to them – he didn’t want Quinn wandering around in the woods, injured as she was.
Mindful to stay just beyond where they would sense him, his acute hearing missed nothing. It appeared that Quinn had discovered the location of her sister’s crystal. That was a very interesting development, but what bothered Drake more was the fanatical look in the male Guardian’s eyes as he held her close to him. Tristan, she had called him. Drake had been watching people for a very long time, and the tender way Tristan held Quinn in his arms, as if she were a piece of very rare, delicate china that might break any second, irked him.
Unable to watch any longer, he turned his attention to where the wolf had settled in for the night, oblivious of the joyous revelation occurring a few feet away. The wild, musky smell of his blood assaulted Drake’s senses, making him heady. To withstand the call of the blood of one of the ten was no easy feat, but Drake had made Quinn a promise.
He was infinitely grateful that Genevieve was out of town. She had gone in search of Sebastian who she believed had left without saying goodbye. Convinced that only a major breakthrough involving the Quest would incite her brother to do such a thing, Genevieve had gone to see the elders. Drake had not been pleased, not least because she would realise her brother had, in fact, vanished, but also because it only further highlighted Genevieve’s fierce loyalty to the Quest. The row had escalated violently, ending in blood and sex, which seemed to be the only two things they had in common anymore.
Genevieve would be away for a few weeks and Drake could only hope that by the time she returned, the wolf would be gone, because Genevieve would rip him limb from limb if she caught wind of him.
A movement in the firelight caught his eye, and he watched, with a sickening masochism, as the handsome Guardian lowered his head, covering Quinn’s mouth with his own. Turning abruptly on his heel, Drake moved like a ghost through the trees, away from temptation, wondering how the sworn protector of his mortal enemies had gotten so under his skin.