Soul to Shepherd (19 page)

“This is what I do to unwind—something I have very little time to do of late.”

“Because of your ‘busy schedule.’”

“Correct.” Peter smirked, and I knew he wasn’t going to let me in on the big secret of how he was spending his time these days.

“Well, it sucks to know I’ve lost my number one fan,” I said, surprised to realize I actually meant it. Yes, I had my issues with Peter, but he was still like family to me. He’d been there from the beginning, when all of this immortality stuff was unfamiliar and intimidating to me. And now he was leaving me.

“You haven’t lost me, I’m just cheering you on from the stands rather than on the sidelines.” His eyes clouded over. I knew that look, and it always worried me. “Eve, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m going to give you this piece of advice anyway—for your own sake, do not get any closer to him.”

“Who—Quinn? Why?”

“Because
you
are the one who’s truly on the line—it is your soul, your happiness, your
sanity
that will suffer in the end.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Yes, I do.” He frowned before taking a deep breath. “Let’s say you do save him and end all of this madness—what then? At the end of the day, he is still only a human. The span of his life will pass in little more than a blink of an eye for you, and before you know it he will be gone. And you? You will be left missing the one person with whom you fell in love.”

“Are you speaking from personal experience or are your words stemming from something more personal between us?” I asked, studying his expression.

Looking directly into my eyes, Peter reached up and put his hand over his chest. “Do you miss it? The connection you had with him?”

“Yes,” I replied, slightly taken aback by his question.

“It’s as if a large black hole has taken up residence where a strong, steady pulse used to breathe life back into your immortal body, comforting you, making you feel stronger and steadier with each beat.”

“Yes, exactly,” I said, dumbstruck by Peter’s dead on characterization. It was an observation that could only be made by someone who had a firsthand understanding of how it felt to lose something that important.

“Then I suppose I am speaking from both of our personal experiences.” He smiled sadly. “I just have more history on my side than do you.”

“Why don’t you ever talk about Madeleine?” I asked, referring to his former charge, the one he fell in love with long ago.

“Because the memories of her still hurt.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. “She may not have been my ‘true soul mate,’ but she was my true love. And when I took the chance and confided in her, when I showed her who and what I was, she couldn’t handle the truth. She would have nothing to do with me anymore. She took her love and left me broken.” He looked at me with such pain in his eyes. “So you see, the last thing I want is for you to experience that kind of private hell.”

All I could do was nod. I was shaken by Peter’s candor.

He glanced at his watch and sighed. “It’s getting late. You should probably be on your way.”

I nodded again. There was only one place I wanted to be right now—in Quinn’s arms.

“I found a sweet new portal,” Dylan announced proudly during our morning strategy session in the Falls. “You two are going to be pumped when you see it. You’ll be thanking me for years.”

“Awesome. Where is it?” Quinn asked excitedly.

I looked at Dylan and shook my head slightly.

“Wish I could tell you, man, but I can’t. I’m under strict orders. Evie wants me to keep it top secret from
everyone
.” I couldn’t help but note the hint of ridicule in Dylan’s voice.

“Oh c’mon, Evie. Just a little sneak preview,” Quinn pleaded.

“No way,” Minerva chimed in. “Evie’s right. The fewer people who know about the location of the new portal, the less likely it will be discovered by an unwelcome third party.”

“So, you really don’t know where it is?” Quinn asked me pointedly.

“No,” I replied.

“And neither do I,” Minerva added.

“Well, when do we get to see it?”

“At the last minute,” I responded.

“And when will that be?” Quinn continued, clearly unsatisfied with our answers.

“
My, my, my, College Boy’s full of questions this morning,”
Dylan mused silently to me.

“Well,” I continued, ignoring Dylan’s comment. “Your parents return on the tenth, and they want you to stick around for a bit, which puts us at the twelfth—the thirteenth at the latest—to get to the portal. Any later and we’re cutting it too close.”

“Agreed,” Dylan and Minerva said in unison.

“Okay, so we’ll leave on the twelfth then,” Quinn announced.

“Are your parents going to be okay with that?” I asked him.

“They’ll have to be. I’m not putting any more of my family in danger.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dylan said with a nod. “Oh, and seeing that tomorrow is already the first of the month, I need to start stocking the new hideout with provisions—hey, Quinn, are your parents going to freak if they find an empty pantry when they get back?”

“Are you kidding me? No food in the house means I was actually home for a while,” Quinn chuckled.

“What about the blood?” Dylan inquired, looking at me. “Have you heard anything yet?”

“No, not yet,” I replied, trying to mask the concern in my voice. The two-week deadline was in two days, and neither Jaegar nor Chase had returned any of my texts or calls.

“Well that’s just peachy,” Dylan barked. “I knew it—they scammed you. You handed over you blood for nada—
zilch.
Way to go jumping into bed with a couple of third-rate scumbags, K.C.”

A snide retort to his bedfellow comment was on the tip of my tongue, but I held back. I knew Dylan was pissed off on some level because he thought I trusted Jaegar and Chase more than I did Minerva. My dealings with the “Bloodhounds,” however, had nothing to do with trust and everything to do with desperation.

“Dylan,” I said, sighing, “I had no choice but to deal with them,” I replied defensively. “And besides, the deal was
three
weeks to get the blood, and it hasn’t even been two yet.”

But Dylan wasn’t the only one questioning whether Jaegar and Chase had ever planned on holding up their end of the bargain, and their silence did nothing to alleviate my own reservations about doing business with them.

“Yeah, well, maybe if you would’ve given us a heads up as to what you were doing, we could’ve considered all the options. We wouldn’t have had to rely on two con artists to steal back College Boy’s blood,” Dylan scowled.

“‘All the options’?” I snapped, totally pissed off. “Dylan, what do you think is happening here? Do you think the Servants are just going to leave the stuff lying around? They have it buried under lock and key somewhere in their lair—the location of which no one but the Servants know.

“But please, go ahead and explain
all
our other options,” I continued, ranting. “I’d love to hear them because the way I see it, these two ‘con artists’ are the only hope we have of getting Quinn’s blood back and preventing the conversion ritual from happening. And if my blood was the only bargaining chip I had to get them to help us, so be it. But, Dylan, don’t you dare sit on your goddamn high horse and call me out unless you
know
there’s a better way. Otherwise, just shut the hell up!”

Dylan, Minerva, and Quinn just stared at me, wide-eyed and silent, in response to my angry outburst. I took a deep breath in an effort to regain my composure.

“Look,” I continued in a calmer tone. “This wasn’t my idea, but it’s the best one—the
only
one—we have given our time restraints. And I have to believe Tartuf wouldn’t have led me astray. He knows what’s at stake. He told me what happens during these rituals, and I’d be willing to trade everything I have to stop the Servants from getting their hands on Quinn. So can you please stop fighting me on this?”

“Dylan, sweetheart, you don’t always have to support the plan, but you should always support the person,” Minerva offered in the wake of his silence.

“Fine, I’ll ease up,” Dylan yielded. “But for the record, I still don’t like it.”

“Welcome to my world, man. Welcome to my world,” Quinn threw in. His remark had just enough humor to break the tension in the air, making us all laugh.

“So, on to the rest of the plan. I’m still on Evie patrol,” Minerva added, taking the opportunity to change the subject. “Although, I have to say it’s getting more and more difficult for me to keep track of you when you keep jumping realms like a grasshopper.”

“Sorry, I’ll do my best next time to let you know before I leap. Dylan and I will stay on Quinn patrol. Hey, have you noticed any unusual activity on your Incident Timer?” I asked Dylan.

“No. And I checked it right before we got here.”

“What about any demon activity at all since we’ve been in town?” I asked Dylan and Minerva. “I haven’t sensed any.”

“Me neither. Not a lick of trouble,” Dylan replied. “And I’ve been combing the grounds, trying to pick up their scent.”

“I haven’t sensed them either,” Minerva added. “Which is odd, considering we’re just eighteen days out from the supposed Incident, don’t you think? Could your intel be wrong? I mean, maybe the Servants aren’t prepared to perform the ritual yet.”

“Maybe, but we still have to plan for the worst,” I stated. “I don’t want to take any chances, and I don’t want to be surprised, so keep you senses sharp.”

“And if those two Moon Mercenaries don’t come through?” Dylan asked. “Sorry, just trying to cover all the bases,” he added when I glared at him.

“With or without the blood, we proceed with Plan B: Quinn and I will go to the new portal on the twelfth, and the two of us will wait there until the full moon passes. Of course we should all be prepared to go sooner if we detect any demon activity.” I looked at Quinn.

“Fine by me,” Quinn replied.

“And do we have a Plan C?” Dylan chimed in again.

“Yes. We fight. Dylan, how’s the arsenal of weapons coming along?”

“It’s still pretty lean. I’ll make it a priority this week.”

“Good. And unless there are any objections, I think it’s a pretty good idea at this point for each of us to be armed with a knife at all times—just in case we’re ambushed.”

“Good idea,” Dylan remarked. “I’ll see that it happens. Oh, and I’ll put some hunting knives up in the new portal.”

“Thanks.” I sighed heavily. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come down to us having to rely on weapons to save Quinn because I think the odds would be against us this time.”

“Not necessarily.” Minerva smiled at me and winked. “I’m working on a Plan D, but I need to iron out a few details before I can share. I should need another day at most.” I had no idea what she meant, but my curiosity was definitely piqued.

“Okay, good. And I’ll keep trying to make sense of Tartuf’s Journal. I haven’t found anything in it that can help us as of yet, and seeing that he doesn’t want me to take the Journal out of his office, I’m going to have to spend more time up there.”

“Tartuf has an
office
?” Dylan asked.

“It’s more like a mini library. I guess when you reach a certain Shepherd stature you’re eligible to have one.”

“How about a private bedroom? Can we have one of those?” Dylan asked with a wicked little grin as he playfully wrapped his arm around Minerva’s waist and squeezed.

I rolled my eyes when I heard Quinn crack up beside me.

The next couple of days ran like clockwork. In the morning, we’d walk to the local coffee house. Then we’d stop at the grocery store and pick up a few things for Dylan to transport to the new portal. Afterwards, we’d hit the Falls and do some combat training. Dylan insisted Quinn learn how to shoot a handgun and a crossbow, the idea being for Quinn to fight while still remaining out of the Servants’ reach. Considering the Servants’ ability to phase and teleport, however, they could easily avoid bullets and arrows. The demons could also appear at Quinn’s side at a moment’s notice and grab him, but there wasn’t much we could do to prepare him for that. Luckily, Quinn was a really good shot, and the better he got, the more his confidence was boosted, which helped keep his spirits high.

We’d end the day with a swim either at Quinn’s beach or in his family’s pool house. After dinner, we’d head back to the portal to go over the game plan, tweaking it as we went. Sticking to Quinn like glue was an obvious must, but unfortunately, not much else was that clear-cut at the moment. I had yet to hear from Jaegar and Chase. Ronald was still M.I.A. And the Servants were as quiet as ever, forcing us into the nerve-wracking position of having to guess their next move.

Independence Day was around the corner, and we were all beginning to feel the stress of how close the eighteenth was looming. Admittedly, I was the most high-strung and on edge. I found myself constantly staring at my cell phone, willing Jaegar or Chase to contact me with news about Quinn’s blood.

In an attempt to distract us from our funk, Quinn got us tickets to an outdoor show at Ravinia on the night of the July second. We joined the other concertgoers on Ravinia’s sprawling lawn, relaxing on the large blanket we’d brought. It was the perfect diversion—at least until the end of the show.

“Hey, there’s Russell,” Quinn said as we were packing up and leaving. “I went to high school with him. C’mon, I want you meet him.” Quinn took my hand and led me towards a small group of people about twenty feet away.

“Russell!” Quinn called out. It was dark, but the group was directly under a tall overhead light, so we could easily see everyone’s faces. I immediately recognized one of the faces—I knew it like the back of my hand—and I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Oh shit!” I gasped in alarm. I quickly slipped behind Quinn, hiding from view.

“What is it?” Quinn asked.

“We need to leave,
now
,” I whispered urgently.

“You see someone you know?” Dylan asked.

“Yes.”

“Who?” Minerva asked.

“Ryan.”

“
Ryan
Ryan?” Quinn asked in surprise.

I nodded.

“Hey, Harrison!” a guy I assumed was Russell called out.

“Quinn, I can’t be here. I
have
to go,” I insisted.

“I’m on it,” Minerva said, taking charge. “C’mon, we’ll walk this way.”

“Okay, I won’t be long,” Quinn said, distracted as he studied the faces in front of him. “I’ll find you.”

“Lead the way,” Dylan said to Quinn.

There was no way Dylan was going to miss the opportunity to witness this exchange firsthand. And neither could I. Minerva and I lurked behind a tree about fifteen feet away. It was dark, and crowded enough that I was tucked safely away, but still close enough I could see and hear what was happening. Nerves churned inside of me at the thought of Quinn meeting Ryan.

“Russ! How’s it going?” Quinn asked.

“Good! You?” Russell was as tall Quinn, but not as fit. He had dark hair, doughy skin, hazel eyes, and a crooked nose—like it’d been broken before.

“Just enjoying a night out,” Quinn responded, a little over-enthusiastically. I could tell he was riled up. “We’re trying to find our girlfriends so we can leave.”

“Dylan. Good to meet you.” Dylan offered out his hand.

“Likewise. Russell.” Russ shook Dylan’s hand. “Good luck finding anyone in this mayhem.”

“Problem solved.” Dylan smiled, checking his cell phone. “The girls said they’ll meet us at the front gate.”

“Nice move,” I said quietly over my shoulder to Minerva, who simply nodded in response.

“We’re headed the same way,” Russell said. “Hey, let me introduce you to my roommate from school. Ryan!” he called out.

Ryan walked over to where Quinn and Dylan were standing.

“That’s him,” I whispered to Minerva. “My ex.”

“Whoa! Mr. Hottie,” she commented.

Ryan did look amazing. He was more muscular since the last time I’d seen him. His hair was a little longer, too, but I could still see his chocolate-brown eyes as clear as day. A twinge of sadness crept through me. Ryan had not only been my first love, but he’d also been my best friend for over two years. Just then, however, the memory of Ryan cheating on me flashed through my mind, and the sadness I’d felt a moment ago quickly turned to disgust.

“What’s up?” Ryan smiled.

“This is Quinn. We go way back.”

“Hey.” Quinn’s voice sounded a little strained, but he smiled just the same.

“Hey, good to meet you.” Ryan shook Quinn’s outstretched hand.

“Dylan.” Dylan shook Ryan’s hand, looking amused. I could only imagine the thoughts running through his head. I was sure he was enjoying every second of this.

“I hope Dylan behaves himself,” Minerva whispered.

“I hope they
both
do,” I mumbled under my breath anxiously.

“So,” Quinn began. “You go to U of I?”

“Yeah. What about you?”

“IU.”

“Oh,” Ryan said a little awkwardly and cleared his throat. “So, you grew up with Russ?” he asked Quinn.

“Yeah, you from around here?” Quinn asked innocently, despite already knowing where Ryan grew up.

“No. Michigan actually. Just visiting for the Fourth.”