The Cathedral of Cliffdale Read online

  “Well, if that’s all?” Drake withdrew his wallet and pulled out a few notes, tossing them on the table.

  “Actually...”

  “Seriously?” he growled, his patience wearing thin. “There’s more?”

  “I wanted to tell you that there is another Guardian in town,” Quinn announced.

  “I thought you got rid of them,” he hissed.

  “I did. This is a new Guardian. He is not here for you, or me for that matter, but he will be staying at my house for a few weeks. I thought I should warn you. You need to make sure that he doesn’t catch wind of you, or Genevieve,” Quinn added generously.

  “Genevieve is out of town,” he replied automatically.

  “There is something else,” Quinn persisted, refusing to be diverted. “But first I need to know that I can trust you.”

  “You saved my life,” Drake reminded her begrudgingly. “You will come to no harm from me, I can promise you that. Although I owe your Guardian friend nothing. I think it would be best if you asked him to leave.”

  “I can’t do that; believe me, if I could, I would.”

  “I believe you,” he replied seriously, sensing the longing in her words.

  “There is a ward of Summerfeld in Brookfield.”

  Drake sucked in an astonished intake of breath.

  “A wolf,” Quinn continued, the gleam in his eye terrifying her. “He has been shunned by the pack and he will die if he remains in the City.”

  “He will die here,” Drake pointed out with an icy calm.

  “No, he won’t. You owe me, Drake.”

  “I didn’t say that I would kill this wolf,” he retorted dryly. “But you know as well as I that my people will find him... will destroy him, as they did all the others.”

  “That is not going to happen.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you are the only vampire in the world who can get in,” Quinn explained. “And I need your word that you will not harm him.”

  Drake considered this for a moment, his long fingers drumming the brandy snifter in his hand. His cold eyes bored into Quinn, his mouth curled in a disdainful line. Eventually, when she could no longer bear the silence, he nodded curtly.

  “I will leave him alone,” he promised, “but I cannot speak for Genevieve or any others.”

  “Genevieve owes me too; I let her live!” Quinn snapped, and a short, harsh bark of derisive laughter escaped him.

  “I doubt that she will see it that way.”

  “Well then, make her.”

  “I am not Genevieve’s master!” he bit out cuttingly, “nor are you mine. You have asked me a favour, young Guardian, and I have agreed, despite my better judgement. Do not test me.”

  Quinn had become so accustomed to Drake that she had lost sight of the fact that he was her enemy. Nodding, she lifted her beer, draining its contents and getting abruptly to her feet.

  “Thank you. I understand.” Setting her bottle down on the table she turned on her heel, waving stiltedly at Phil as she passed the bar counter. She had done all that she could. She believed Drake – he would pose no threat to Rafe. Genevieve, on the other hand, was another matter altogether, but for now, Quinn was content.

  After all, Genevieve hadn’t been invited in.

  Chapter 32

  “You’re not to leave the house,” Quinn instructed when she let herself back inside. Rafe was slouched on the sofa; his shoulders slumped as though he carried the weight of the world upon them.

  “Where would I go?’ he asked hollowly, and Quinn noticed the black circles under his eyes and the fact that he still hadn’t shaved. He looked wild and desperate.

  “Why don’t you get yourself cleaned up?” she asked gently.

  “What for?”

  “You look terrible, Rafe. Take a shower, have a shave and then go and get some sleep.”

  “What are you, my mother?”

  “No, actually... your mother is in Summerfeld, along with the rest of your people, as you well know.”

  “They’re not my people, anymore,” he muttered desolately, heaving himself off the sofa just as Quinn noticed Tristan standing quietly at the foot of the stairs. Rafe barely seemed to notice him as he passed by on his way up.

  “What was that about his mother?’ Tristan asked eventually, stepping into the room. Tristan had only been a Guardian for a few years - eight to be exact - and he didn’t know much about pack history. Quinn had spent hours with Isaiah learning the background of all the species that resided within the City. The wolves in particular, had always fascinated her, and she had learned as much as she possibly could about their pack behaviour.

  “It all happened before I became a Guardian,” she explained, taking a seat on the sofa that Rafe had so recently vacated. Tristan sat down beside her, their knees practically touching and Quinn stared down at his leg, trying not to be affected by his sudden nearness.

  “But you know her... Rafe’s mother?” Tristan prompted, as Quinn had fallen silent.

  “Yes,” she nodded, snapping back to the moment. “And so do you. Vivienne is Rafe’s mother.” Tristan frowned as he tried to recall.

  “The old Omega female?”

  “That’s the one. Rafe’s father was her original Alpha.”

  “Her original Alpha?”

  “Are you going to repeat everything I say as a question?’ Quinn snapped, irritated, before the wounded look on his face registered. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “It’s just been a rough few days.” She proceeded to tell him the story.

  Rafe’s father had been the pack Alpha until he had been ousted by an ambitious younger wolf named Grayson. Grayson selected Vivienne as his mate and Vivienne fulfilled her duty as dictated by pack law, shifting her allegiance to the new Alpha, although it was not without great personal sacrifice. Her son, Rafe, had grown up a strong man and an even stronger wolf, but he had never thought to challenge Grayson for the Alpha position until his closest childhood friend had come of age and caught Grayson’s eye. The werewolves were not permitted to drink from the fountain of youth until they came of age. The fountain kept them young, slowing their aging remarkably, but Vivienne had lived a very long life and she was no longer the desirable wolf she once was. Grayson, having found a new, more attractive female, spurned Vivienne and insisted that, at the next full moon, the younger, beautiful raven-haired wolf become his mate. Faced with his mother’s humiliation and the thought of his friend being forced into a life of servitude, Rafe finally challenged Grayson and, under the light of a full moon, he had defeated him, becoming the new Alpha.

  “And the young female?” Tristan asked when Quinn had finished.

  “Channon,” Quinn confirmed quietly. It was only natural that Channon had become Rafe’s mate, their relationship borne not out of law, but out of love. Channon and Rafe had been together ever since... until now. Now she was once again facing the threat of a forced union - only this time, Rafe had failed to protect her.

  “That’s why he’s taking it so badly,” Tristan murmured, a sense of true empathy radiating off him. “He really loves her.” His sky-blue eyes lingered on Quinn’s face as he said it, and a moment passed between them that made Quinn’s heart beat more quickly in her chest.

  “You must understand that they are only wolves one night of the month. The rest of their time is spent as humans and they feel just as deeply as we do. Rafe and Channon are not just pack mates, they are husband and wife in the truest sense of the word. How would you like it if Avery had been forced to leave you because someone else was better at fighting?”

  “She was,” Tristan whispered, his breath catching in his throat. Quinn immediately regretted her words. It was true, Avery had been taken from him because she had not been able to defeat the vampire that attacked her... and Tristan had not been there to save her. For the first time Quinn understood the guilt that must eat at him every day and she realised that she didn’t want him to live with that burden, crucifyin
g him every time he thought of her.

  “I’m sorry, Tristan; for taking my grief out on you. I know you loved her just as much as I did.” His tormented gaze fixed on her, but he seemed to grow in stature as if the burden had eased ever so slightly.

  “Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that.” He paused and then his eyes glazed over as if he was putting an invisible wall in place. “But it was my fault. I should have been there. She might still be alive today...”

  “Or you might both be dead,” Quinn pointed out. “You have no idea how many vampires were in the house that night. You were a very new Guardian. If Avery fell to their assault you probably would have too.” Quinn was not trying to insult Tristan, but it was a fact. Avery had been a very skilled Guardian, her talents surpassed only by Isaiah, Daniel and Quinn herself.

  Tristan nodded morosely, but Quinn caught a defiant look in his eye.

  “Look, I have to go away for a few days. Do you think you can keep an eye on Rafe?” she changed the subject.

  “Where are you ..?” Tristan began, but then he stopped abruptly, as if remembering he had no right to question her. “Of course, no problem.”

  “You will make sure he doesn’t leave the house?”

  “Sure,” he shrugged, “but I don’t think there is any threat of being discovered out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  Quinn, unfortunately, knew just how wrong he was.

  “You can’t be too careful,” she cautioned. “You haven’t lived in man’s realm since you became a Guardian.” Again, something flashed in his blue eyes, something she couldn’t put her finger on, but when he looked at her, he conceded.

  “I’ll keep him inside,” Tristan promised. “But please, Quinn... be safe.”

  It warmed her more than she cared to admit to have someone worrying about her. Someone who cared whether she lived or died, who would be waiting for her safe return. She had been alone for so long she had forgotten how it felt to be needed. It felt good.

  Chapter 33

  Drake knocked lazily on the heavy wooden door, leaning against the cold stone while he waited.

  The door was opened by a sallow-skinned, shaven-haired vampire looking mildly curious, before he clapped eyes on Drake and all curiosity vanished, replaced by alarm. Drake wedged his foot into the door as the broader man tried to slam it closed.

  “Hello Nicholai,” he drawled, shoving the door open so hard that it ricocheted off the wall behind it.

  “Drake,” Nicholai stammered, his eyes wild. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see Lenora,” Drake explained politely, “if that’s all right with you, of course?”

  “And what if it’s not?” A high voice called from the top of the stairs and Drake grinned up at his former mistress. “Don’t even think about answering that question,” Lenora snapped at Nicholai as she swept down the stairs. “Just because I tolerate you in the bedroom doesn’t mean your opinion matters.” She winked discreetly at Drake as Nicholai averted his eyes, trying to keep his temper in check. Despite the cool weather, Lenora was dressed, as always, in the smallest slip of a dress, with a modest neckline, but exposing a long, bare expanse of thigh.

  Drake had had a brief fling with Lenora many years ago, before Charlotte, and then again briefly after. Lenora had gotten him through the worst of Charlotte’s defection, her natural good spirits keeping him sane and preventing him from giving in to the depression that had threatened to overwhelm him. If it weren’t for Lenora, Drake doubted he would have ever been able to get over his guilt at having turned Charlotte.

  “Lenora,” he said now, greeting her fondly, opening his arms as she sashayed into his embrace.

  “Drake,” her husky voice murmured seductively in his ear. “It has been far too long.” She planted a kiss full on his mouth, her tongue flitting across his bottom lip before she nipped it playfully. Drake smiled into her mischievous green eyes, a few shades darker than his own.

  Ignoring Nicholai, Lenora linked her arm through Drake’s and walked him down the porch steps.

  “I have something to show you,” she said, as they reached the massive garage which housed Lenora’s many expensive cars. Drake suspected what was coming but he waited for the doors to open completely before passing comment.

  “You didn’t!” he laughed as he caught sight of her latest acquisition – a glossy red Lamborghini which held pride of place in the centre of the immaculate, tiled garage.

  “I couldn’t resist,” she replied airily, “it’s so pretty.”

  “Only you would call that pretty,” he groaned, moving closer to admiring the supercar. “This probably cost more than your house. Why do you need so many cars? You can’t even drive.”

  “I can drive,” she pouted, “I just prefer other people to do it for me.”

  “You are such a snob.”

  “So, to what do I owe the honour of this visit?’ Lenora changed the subject.

  “Can’t I simply visit an old friend?”

  “If that were true, I’d be delighted,” she remarked drily, “but we both know you want something.” Drake made a dramatically pained face, but he didn’t get to the reason he was there and she rolled her eyes.

  “How is Genevieve?” she asked politely. He would get to his point when he was good and ready, and not a moment sooner.

  “I am not sure – she’s been away.”

  “Good riddance,” Lenora stated baldly. “Although how she can risk leaving you unattended is beyond me.”

  Drake chuckled. Lenora had never liked Genevieve, not since the moment she had laid eyes on her – and the feeling was mutual. The two women detested each other.

  “I see that Nicholai is still in your favour,” he mused.

  “For now,” she sighed. “At least until something better comes along. You wouldn’t like to stay, would you?” she arched her perfectly shaped brows suggestively.

  “No,” he declined respectfully. “I am afraid not; although the offer is tempting.”

  “Well, in that case, I guess he will have to do. So, to what do I owe the honour?’ she repeated. “You didn’t come all the way down here just to turn me down. Again.”

  “I didn’t,” he admitted. “I’m looking for information.”

  “So of course you came to me,” she shook her head haughtily. Drake noticed that her brown hair was the exact same colour as Quinn’s, a rich, earthy brown.

  “Do you know anything about the death of a Guardian a couple of years back?” Drake asked.

  Lenora frowned.

  “Drake,” she cautioned, her husky voice dropping even lower. “This sounds like Quest business.” Lenora was the only other vampire Drake knew who detested the Quest. She preferred to indulge in life’s simple pleasures, although with her power and influence, she would have made a great asset to the search. Lenora had been around a very, very long time and even Drake, who knew her better than most, did not know why she was so against it.

  “It’s not; not really,” he replied. “I’m trying to help a friend.”

  “A friend?” she tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail against her bare thigh. “And what does your friend want to know?”

  “Who killed her sister.”

  Lenora’s composure slipped for just an instant as comprehension dawned on her.

  “Are you insane? You can’t be friends with a Guardian, Drake... she’ll kill you.”

  “She won’t.”

  “She’s a Guardian, for God's sakes!”

  “Lenora,” he lowered his own voice menacingly. “You’re going to have to trust me on this one. We’ve been friends a long time.”

  “We won’t be friends much longer if you don’t end this.”

  “You want me to kill her?”

  “I can see by your face that’s not going to happen; but you need to stay as far away from her as you can.”

  “Your concern is noted,” he drawled, making it clear that the topic was closed. “Now...
do you have the information I’m looking for?”

  Lenora curled her lip. Drake was the only man on the planet who dared speak to her like that – he had never been afraid of her – it was one of the reasons she was so fond of him. Of all the lovers she had taken over the years, Drake had always stood out as the one she respected the most. When he had left her, she had never asked him to stay, although she would have preferred it. He had grieved deeply over Charlotte and Lenora had done what she could to ease his heartache, but he had not been ready to settle down. Lenora doubted he ever would be. His long relationship with Genevieve had surprised her, even sparked a flare of envy that she hadn’t felt in years, but she believed it was a relationship borne of convenience rather than real emotion.

  “You never did listen,” she scolded, shaking her head, “but to answer your question, no... I never heard anything about a Guardian’s death around that time. Although there was one a few weeks ago - a male. As far as I know the vamps that killed him didn’t live to tell the tale.”

  “And yet you know about it,” Drake remarked wryly.

  “I know everything,” Lenora grinned, showing her fangs. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  There was not much more she could tell him, but Lenora promised to let him know if she heard anything. Outwardly, she agreed half-heartedly to see what she could find out, but inside she knew she would move heaven and earth to help him. As she watched him walk away, she remembered the first time she had ever laid eyes on him. She had known Lucian for years, and he had asked her to look out for Drake if ever something were to happen to him. Lenora had taken one look at Drake and announced that she would do so happily. Lucian, who had been like a father to Drake, had not taken kindly to her suggestive comment, but Lenora had not heeded his silent warning. Drake was the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on, both human and vampire included, and she had enjoyed a brief fling with him behind Lucian’s back. Lucian was blissfully unaware that Lenora and Drake had even met.