Authors: Linda Lamberson
“Hi.” He smiled.
“Hi,” I replied, smiling back. I kissed him once more before taking his hand and leading him down the hallway to our bedroom.
“Where are we going?” he asked innocently, despite the mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
“I
need
you.” I winked. When we got to our room, I closed the door behind us and locked it. “Dylan’s about to get a huge dose of T.M.I. when he feels your heart pounding.” I smirked and raised my eyebrows.
“Serves him right—what was that he shouted out in the penthouse?” Quinn asked.
“Don’t remind me.” I rolled my eyes and pushed Quinn down on the bed, falling on top of him.
“Yee-haw,” he whispered in my ear with a thick Southern drawl.
“You just had to go there, didn’t you?” I laughed.
“Well, don’t you two look
re-energized
,” Dylan noted when we joined him and Minerva at the pool.
“Nice to see you, too,” I replied.
“So, how did your meeting go?” Minerva asked, also ignoring Dylan’s unsolicited comment.
“It was an interesting visit upstairs. I stopped by Tartuf’s office, but he wasn’t there—no surprise. Then I stopped in the library and ran into Agnes.”
“How’s she doing?” Dylan asked.
“Apparently, pretty well—she’s getting it on with your mentor.”
“What? No way!” he exclaimed, bursting with laughter. “Teddy and Mother Nature? Good for them!”
Quinn and Minerva just stared at us, not knowing what we were talking about.
“She’s not really Mother Nature,” I assured them.
“You can’t prove that,” Dylan added with a straight face.
“On a more serious note, I found out something about the Journal thief,” I stated.
“What?” Dylan asked.
“Basically, it could be any number of immortals.”
“Huh?” Dylan asked.
“How does that help us?” Quinn asked in confusion.
“It doesn’t, but at least I have an idea of how the thief discovered the portal.” I went on to explain my conversation with Peter and how the Journal wasn’t exactly a best-kept secret—and, apparently, neither was the Falls with the breadcrumbs we’d been leaving behind.
“Well, if it could’ve been anyone, why don’t we start with the obvious?” Quinn suggested.
“Jaegar and Chase,” Dylan chimed in. “I’m sure they’d love to get their hands on the Journal and sell it to the highest bidder.”
“While you might be right, I doubt it was them,” I replied. “I’m not sure they know about the Journal—or portals for that matter. Plus, I’m not even sure they can teleport.”
“To the best of my knowledge, they can’t. Besides, they’re hired guns,” Minerva added. “They’d already have a buyer lined up before they acted. So even if they found a way to take the Journal, they wouldn’t have initiated the deal, which leads us back to square one—who’s the real thief? Who wanted the Journal?”
“Peter,” Quinn suggested.
“What?” I asked in surprise. “Quinn, just because you don’t like him, doesn’t mean he’s a thief.”
“It’s not such a far-fetched theory,” Dylan said, backing Quinn up. “Peter knows about portals—he’s the one who introduced them to you, right? And we can assume he knows about the Falls. I mean, he all but admitted it when he told you about the breadcrumbs we’ve been leaving behind—so why not him?”
“I think he would’ve told me if he’d been there.”
“Not if he’s the one who stole the Journal,” Quinn threw in.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I argued. “Why would he take the Journal when he had access to it all along? With the way he tears through books, he’s probably read it a thousand times. He probably knows it forwards and backwards. So why steal it?”
“To make sure we don’t have it,” Quinn replied. “To make it more difficult for you to save me.”
“Quinn, he knows there’s a lot more at stake here than his feelings for me.”
“I don’t know, K.C.,” Dylan replied. “He’s lied before. Not to mention, he sacrificed a piece of his soul for you—who knows what effect that has on someone like us? Plus, there’s a creepiness factor about him—and I
know
you know what I’m talking about, K.C.”
“What does that mean?” Quinn asked protectively.
“Let’s just say Peter made his intentions towards me pretty clear one night,” I replied, not wanting to get into too much detail about my unnerving encounter with him in the woods.
“Did he hurt you?” Anger sparked in Quinn’s eyes.
“No,” I reassured him. “He just caught me off guard is all.”
“I’m going to kill him.” Quinn’s narrowed his eyes.
“Quinn, it’s okay, really. It was a while ago—before he saved me last April. And he knows I’m with you. In fact, I just told him our souls fused, and he seemed fine about it.”
Quinn just grunted in disbelief. “I think Peter’s our guy.” He sounded even more convinced now. “I think he followed us one night, figured out how to get in and out of the Falls, and then he waited until we weren’t there to snoop around. When he found the Journal, he took it.”
“Guys, this is
Peter
we’re talking about. He’s a well-respected Shepherd. He’s head of the mentor program—he was
my
mentor. Why would he want to do anything to jeopardize Quinn’s safety—or mine for that matter? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“I think Peter is more twisted than you think,” Dylan replied. “I’m betting he’s still pretty hung up on you. This could all be a game to him.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I knew that Quinn disliked Peter, but Dylan too? I looked to Minerva to add some reason back into the conversation.
“I don’t know,” Minerva began. “Granted, I don’t know Peter, but it doesn’t seem to make sense for him to have taken the Journal. Even someone that twisted would be smart enough to realize there’s just too much at stake here if the Servants get Quinn. And Peter sounds smart enough to be able to figure out how to work his way into Evie’s head without sabotaging our efforts to protect Quinn.”
“Just for argument’s sake, if Peter did take the Journal, where do you think he’s keeping it?” Quinn asked.
“Quinn—” I started in protest.
“Hey,” he quickly cut me off, “if you want to rule him out, fine—but we shouldn’t do it just because you want to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. “He’d probably keep it in his portal—unless he has a private office up in the Archives like Tartuf. I can try to find out from Tara if he does.”
“And I’ll try to find Peter’s portal and search for the Journal,” Dylan offered.
“Oh, you’re going to
love
doing that,” I announced sarcastically.
“Why?” Dylan asked cautiously.
“Because it’s at the summit of K-2 or Denali or some other high-altitude equivalent.”
“Awesome.” Dylan’s mocking enthusiasm couldn’t mask his apparent uneasiness. His entire posture shifted nervously, and I could hear the phobic thoughts running through his head. Minerva, no doubt, could hear him loud and clear as well.
“C’mon, we’ll search for it together,” Minerva offered as she squeezed his hand reassuringly.
“What’s the big deal with the location of Peter’s portal?” Quinn asked me once they’d left.
“Dylan is afraid of heights.”
“Excuse me?” Quinn asked, somewhat amused.
“Some human phobias hitch a ride with us into immortality,” I explained.
“And how about you? I know there’s a phobia somewhere in you,” he teased.
“Bugs. Big, creepy bugs. Especially the ones that fly.” I shivered at the thought.
“You mean like the one that’s crawling on the back of your chair right now?”
“Get it off!” I shrieked, jumping straight out of my chair. Quinn busted out laughing and fell back into his lounge chair.
“That’s not funny!” I half-seethed, half-sighed in relief.
“It was kind of funny,” Quinn managed just before he roared with laughter once again.
“You are
so
going to pay for that,” I threatened.
“Give it your best shot.” He smiled
.
We packed up and left Casa del Alma the following day—the twenty-first of July. I was sad to leave, but I knew we’d return soon.
Thanks to Minerva, Quinn’s Defender was back in the same parking garage where he’d left it nearly two weeks ago. She’d retrieved it once the full moon had passed.
“So, you ready to go back home?” I asked Quinn as we both climbed into the car.
“For more of my mom’s twenty questions about us? And to tell my dad about our being engaged?” He took a deep breath. “Oh yeah, I see good times ahead—real good times.” The edge in his voice was unmistakable. “You sure you don’t want to come back with me?” he asked, smirking.
“I think I’ve had enough of the ‘meet the parents’ experience for a while.”
“You can always change your mind, you know.”
“You know I’ll be there with you—just not
with
you. But I promise I’ll stop in every night. And maybe we can even slip away.” I smiled playfully.
“
Maybe
?” He leaned over. I could feel the current pass through us before his lips touched mine. “I don’t think I’ll survive the next few days with my parents’ third degree if you don’t rescue me as many times as possible.” He kissed me. “Besides, it’s bad for your health if I don’t touch you.” He chuckled.
“You have a one-track mind.” I grinned.
“Only as one-track as yours.” Quinn smiled back and kissed me again.
I sighed. “You better get going. Dylan and Minerva are already staked out at your parents’. I’ll follow you home to make sure you don’t get into any trouble.” I smirked.
“You’re not riding with me?” He sounded disappointed.
“I think it’ll be easier if we start the charade now. Hey, can you do me one favor though and drive by the convenience mart to see if Ronald is there?”
“Yeah, sure.” He started the truck.
As usual, we didn’t spot Ronald stationed at his regular post.
Quinn’s parents were thrilled to see him. Dylan had sent Quinn’s parents a few generic emails from Quinn’s account while we were in the portal to let them know everything was fine, but gave them no other details as to what Quinn was up to. And after a few stories about hanging out on the Pacific Coast and camping out west, Quinn managed to breeze through most of their questions before taking a long shower, followed by an even longer nap.
After dinner, Quinn’s father retired to the family room to watch the news. The minute Quinn was alone with his mom, she started in with the questions.
“So,” she began cautiously, “how’s Evie?”
“She’s good,” Quinn replied enthusiastically.
“And your trip—was she with you the entire time you were away?”
“Yup.”
“And now?”
“She had to leave and take care of a few things.”
“For work?”
“Uh-huh,” he replied with a slight nod.
“And things are still good between the two of you?”
“If you’re asking if we’re still engaged, then the answer is ‘yes.’”
“Oh, good,” she said awkwardly.
“Don’t sound
too
thrilled,” Quinn said sarcastically.
“Sweetheart, Evie seems like a perfectly wonderful girl. And she obviously makes you very happy.”
“But?” Quinn asked.
“But I can’t help thinking about how
young
you both are. My goodness, Quinny, is she even twenty?”
“No, but she will be soon. Oh, crap!” he gasped as the color in his face drained.
“What is it?”
“Her birthday—it’s in a few weeks. I almost forgot.”
His mother chuckled. “My, my, don’t you sound like an old married man already.”
“Should I take that as your stamp of approval?”
“You don’t need my approval,” she said in a more serious tone. “At the end of the day, it’s your decision. It’s your life.”
“Yeah, but at the end of the day, I’d still like your approval.”
“Oh, Quinny, I love you. And if this is what you want, what you both
really
want, then you have my support.” She smiled reassuringly.
“Thanks, mom.” He smiled.
“So,” she exhaled loudly. “When are you going to tell Dad?”
“When he’s sleeping?” Quinn chuckled wryly.
“Thayer McQuinn Harrison, if you’re man enough to get married and support a family, then you’re man enough to tell your father about your decision to do so.”
Quinn inhaled and let out a long sigh. “You’re right. I’ll go talk to him now.”
“Thank you.” She exhaled loudly. “You don’t know how difficult it's been for me to keep this from him.”
Quinn stood up, kissed his mother on the head, and poured two glasses of scotch.
“Hey, Dad, can I talk to you about something?” he asked as he entered the family room.
“Sure, what’s on your mind?” His dad turned off the TV.
“I have some good news.” Quinn handed him a glass.
“Scotch, huh? This must be some pretty serious ‘good news,’” his dad remarked.
“I guess you could say that.” Quinn smirked, sitting down in the chair next to him.
I immediately imagined what my dad’s reaction would be if I told him I was engaged to someone he barely knew, and I began to panic. Afraid to hear what Quinn’s dad had to say about our “good news,” I teleported myself to the roof.
“Dylan, Minerva,” I whispered. “I’m going to La Casa. Bring Quinn as soon as the dust settles from the bomb he’s about to drop.”
Dylan dropped Quinn off in La Casa a couple hours later. He didn’t mention his conversation with his dad, and I didn’t ask about it. Quinn looked exhausted as he slumped down on the sofa. I walked over to him and ran my fingers through his hair. He leaned into me without saying a word.
“You look like you need some sleep. Want to head off to bed?” I asked.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
We weren’t in full strategy mode yet, so we kept everything pretty low-key over the next week and a half. In fact, even if we’d wanted to kick things up a notch, there wasn’t much we could do seeing we had no idea what the Servants were going to do next. It felt like we were all on standby, waiting for a sign, a move, anything on their part that would clue us into what they were planning, but all remained quiet. There was no sign of them anywhere. If the Servants were still after Quinn, they hid all evidence of it well.
Until we had more information, the only thing we could do was make sure the Servants didn’t get their hands on Quinn. Dylan, Minerva, and I agreed to keep up the twenty-four seven perimeter sweeps of the Harrisons’ property, and one of us was always on Quinn detail. For fear of stretching ourselves too thin, it was also agreed Minerva would lighten up on “Evie patrol” for the time being, which was a huge relief to me.
We all settled into a routine. Quinn swam every morning. During the day, he kept himself busy preparing for his semester abroad in London. Dylan accompanied him on his errands, leaving Minerva and me time to investigate who else might have taken the Journal.
I found out from Tara that Peter didn’t have a private space in the Archives—and, thankfully, she didn’t probe too much into why I wanted to know. And Dylan had yet to find Peter’s portal—although, I wasn’t sure he’d been looking all that hard in light of his phobia.
I also stopped in to see my parents a few times. I never stayed for more than few minutes, but I wanted to see how they were doing. Thankfully, time had seemed to help them heal a bit. I saw them smile—and even joke on occasion. And their dog, Justice, seemed to fill a little of the void my death had left behind. I still missed them more than words could say, but I was happy to see them taking small steps to move forward without me.
Quinn dutifully ate dinner with his parents every night. Most nights he stayed home, but he met up with his some of his old high school friends at a local bar a few times. And on those nights, Dylan never missed the opportunity to be Quinn’s wingman. I used those times as opportunities to try to find Ronald, but he was still M.I.A.
At the end of every night, Dylan, Minerva, Quinn and I would visit La Casa to discuss anything we’d learned or seen that day. Quinn and I always stayed the night in the portal. Not once, however, did I ask how his father had reacted when Quinn told him about our engagement. And not once did Quinn offer to tell me.
By August first, the monotony of our schedule was starting to clash with the anxiety of the unknown constantly buzzing around us. We decided to change things up a bit and go clubbing in Chicago. The place we chose was new to all of us, so Dylan didn’t have any of his usual ins with the bouncers, the bartenders, or security—not that it mattered, as we weren’t about to wait in line anyway. We teleported into a back office, presumably the manager’s, and inconspicuously made our way onto the dance floor. The club was in a recently gentrified area, and was made to look like it had been carved into old catacombs that merged into an abandoned and dilapidated underground El station. It was amazing.
It was interesting to see Dylan out of his player mode, now having eyes only for Minerva. His eyes weren’t the only ones on her, however. She wore a black long-sleeved mini-dress that was sheer enough to reveal a black bra and boy shorts underneath, with thigh-high black boots. She looked fantastic, and Dylan was all too happy to show her off.
Minerva insisted I dress the part too—a short, metallic black tube dress with asymmetrical lines, paired with strappy silver heels. She also convinced me to wear dark, sultry makeup and my hair in messy, loose curls, which seemed to radiate the “just got laid look,” as she called it. The outfit was definitely pushing the outer limits of my comfort zone, but one look in the mirror, and I knew it was the right choice. I looked sexy as hell. But Quinn’s reaction when he first saw me sealed the deal. He’d been rendered speechless—standing there frozen with his mouth gaping open. His dark, smoldering eyes met mine, and I instantly knew what he was imagining. Yes, I definitely was going to have fun working this dress in front of him tonight.
The four of us soon lost ourselves on the dance floor. My every move was intended to entice Quinn. He couldn’t take his eyes off me. I’d caught him in my spell and was loving every minute of it. After a while, I decided to up the ante. I pressed myself up against him and slid down his body to the rhythm of the music, allowing my hands to trail down his chest, his stomach, and his thighs. On my way back up, my hands followed the same path, only this time I let my hand linger below his belt, and I traced my index finger up the zipper of his jeans. With my stilettos on, we were almost eye to eye. Our auras were glowing brilliantly, entangling themselves as they spun an intricate cocoon around us. I was glad no other human could see the supernatural spectacle we were creating. We stopped dancing, and, without removing my hand, I leaned in so close we were almost kissing. I raised my eyebrows playfully and grinned, waiting for his next move.
“That’s it,” he nearly growled into my ear over the music. Quinn grabbed my hand and pulled me deep into the shadows off to the side of the club, pushing me up against one of the catacomb pillars, staring at me with blazing eyes.
“Something wrong?” I asked, fighting the urge to smile.
“Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you once I get you out of here?” His words were full of brazen promise. He leaned in closer, shifting so I could feel his weight pressing up against me.
“Tell me,” I dared as the heat in my belly surged in anticipation.
“I’d rather
show
you,” he replied, kissing my neck.
“Go for it,” I dared.
Quinn pulled back and grinned, his eyes flickering wildly. “Okay.” He nuzzled the nape of my neck with his nose, inhaling my scent before kissing my shoulder. I held my breath as he caressed my bare arms with his fingers and began kissing me along my jaw line. I could feel the temperature of my body rise. Then he ran his hands down my lower back to my thighs, stopping just under the hem of my dress, making me catch my breath. My skin felt like it was on fire.
Without warning, Quinn lifted me up, and, with my back against the pillar, I wrapped my legs around him. I felt him press his hips into mine and I gasped. My eyes locked onto his gaze as he leaned in and kissed me passionately, making my entire body tingle.
“Ready to leave?” he asked, smiling wickedly.
I just nodded. My mind was swimming with lust.
“Thank God.” Quinn sighed in relief, set me down, and led me through the crowd over to where Dylan and Minerva were dancing. My legs were trembling with anticipation, and I had to focus hard not to stumble.
“I’ll be right back.” Quinn kissed me and then he and Dylan headed off somewhere, leaving me with Minerva.
“Hmm?” I mumbled. Minerva had said something, but I was still too lost in my fantasy to hear it.
“Must’ve been some conversation you two were having,” Minerva said more loudly. “You’re practically glowing in the dark.”
“Yeah,” I agreed absentmindedly. It wasn’t until I heard Minerva laughing that I snapped me out of my daze.
“What?” I asked, slightly embarrassed and confused.
“You might want take a moment to freshen up—and cool down. You have naughty thoughts written all over you.”
I cracked an awkward smile. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll be right back.”
I wove through the crowd to the women’s restroom. Amazingly, the cramped three-stall bathroom was empty. I turned on the cold water and examined my flushed face in the mirror. The harsh fluorescent lights did little to help my appearance.
“Get a grip on yourself, Evie,” I ordered myself, but then I pictured Quinn and me just moments before, and I couldn’t fight the grin making its way onto my face. Like clockwork, the temperature of my body rose and my body ached for him. I leaned over the sink to splash some water onto my face. As I did, I heard the door to the bathroom open and shut—and then,
lock
. I froze when I felt the dark, negative energy fill the air. I could smell the noxious odor flood the enclosed space.
Oh, shit!
I whipped around to see two scantily clad female Servants in knee-high black leather boots blocking the doorway. One of them was a Goth with short black spiky hair and plum lipstick, while the other was a platinum blond pinup with cherry red lips. Their eyebrows, noses, lips and ears were pierced, and they had some pretty wicked looking tattoos.