Soul to Shepherd (35 page)

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Authors: Linda Lamberson

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“It would be unbearable,” I said grimly.

“Exactly,” Minerva continued. “I think Mathius is taking bets on your inability to handle Quinn’s conversion,” Minerva added. “In fact, I think he’s counting on it.”

“Why?” Quinn asked.

“To break her spirit—”

“And make me willing to sacrifice my own soul,” I finished Minerva’s sentence.

“Why would they want to do that?” Dylan asked.

“Because then it would be easier to corrupt her—convince her to do their bidding,” Minerva replied. “That way, theoretically speaking, if Quinn doesn’t survive the conversion, the Servants still might get a super weapon in their corner.”

“Or two super weapons if he does survive,” Dylan added.

“So I guess the Servants found a way to destroy your soul too,” Quinn said.

“I guess so.” The sadness in my eyes matched his.

* * *

“That’s it,” I announced a couple of hours later. “No more gloom and doom. I can’t sit here wallowing in my own pity party anymore. I’m going to speak to Tara.”

“Right now?” Quinn asked.

“Yup. Now that I have my strength back, I intend to take full advantage of it. Tara may be able to shed some light on what’s going on—maybe she has some new information. Besides, I should update her on our new
status
.” I held my hand out to Quinn and watched my aura’s glow intensify slightly.

“But first,” I turned to look at Dylan, “I need a quick lesson on how to teleport myself to and from this portal.”

“No problemo, Chief.” Dylan gave me a mock salute and smiled.

* * *

I hadn’t been to the Archives for weeks—although it’d only been less than a day by Shepherds’
Aura
standards. I doubted I’d ever get used to the time conversion between realms.

I materialized and walked into the main library, an enormous oval room lined with books. The ever-changing frescoed ceiling had the pinkish-orange hues of what looked to be a beautiful sunrise. As was often the case, I was alone. I scanned the empty room again and looked up at the ceiling once more to soak in the magic of the animated mural. How could there be hundreds of us in existence and yet rarely anyone ever around? Either everyone was on assignment all the time or I was the reigning Shepherd cootie-queen.

I scanned the long wooden reading tables. There were no books or files stacked high upon any of them, no papers scattered about. In fact, there wasn’t even a shred of evidence of Peter’s makeshift worksite that typically greeted my arrival. I listened for his presence but heard nothing.

I teleported myself outside the carved, wooden doors marking the entrance to Tara’s private chambers and knocked.

“Come in, Eve. I’ve been expecting you.”

I opened the doors to see her standing at the side of her desk, laying out pieces of gold thread, each of varying lengths.

“Each of these strings represents a human life we failed to protect in the span of the last
Mora
week alone,” she explained without so much as looking at me. “Five lives in seven days.” Tara shook her head in disappointment, gently touching the shortest thread. “It’s a tragedy. And I fear it will only get worse. I fear either the Servants are getting wiser or we are getting weaker.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “But this is not your concern.” Sitting in one of the two chairs that flanked the back of her desk, she looked up at me and forced a smile. “So, tell me, how is Quinn?”

“Fine,” I replied, sitting in the chair next to where she stood. “The full moon passed and Quinn is safe. The Servants were remarkably quiet last week.” I glanced at the strings on the table. “At least with respect to us.”

“You sound as though that concerns you.”

“It does. Considering the urgency of the warnings I’ve received from everyone, it seems strange how uneventful this past week has been for us.”

“I am not sure I would agree with your characterization.”

“What do you mean?”

“One just has to look at you to realize that something has changed.”

“Oh, yeah.” I grinned, looking at my hands, which were still glowing more brightly than usual. “Quinn and I—we connected just as you’d hoped. Dylan said we’re like ‘soul magnets’ now
.

“I am so pleased and relieved to hear this news.” Tara flashed me the brightest smile I’d ever seen grace her face. “The use of the term ‘
soul magnets’
is remarkably accurate to describe what you
were
a few short days ago. Your souls have always been like two magnets drawn only to each other—an undeniable attraction that goes far beyond love at first sight. But now you two have experienced something on an entirely different level. Your souls have
fused
, which can only happen when both true soul mates have unconditional love, trust, and faith in one another.

“It is said that once the souls have fused, they achieve a certain harmony,” she continued, “a rhythm all their own. It is that rhythm, that harmony, which allows the souls to become more powerful, giving and taking freely from the other as needed, enhancing and building upon the skills their hosts already possess, such as physical strength.”

“What do you know about maintaining this harmony after two souls have fused?” I asked.

“I am not sure I follow.” She looked at me with confusion in her eyes.

“Our newfound strength and energy seem to be dependent on our proximity to one another.”

“Interesting.” Tara took a deep breath and stood up, walking over to the window. “I must admit I was so consumed with whether Quinn and you would develop your connection that I hadn’t given much thought to what would happen once the bond had been forged.”

“Well, when Quinn and I are near each other, we seem to feel stronger and glow brighter than when we’re apart. And when we kiss or—” I stopped short, almost forgetting I was speaking with the head of the Council Tribunal. “We seem to be at our strongest when we act on our affection for each other.”

“Not much is written about true soul mates, and your immortality makes your connection with Quinn slightly more difficult to understand. But I suppose even true soul mates, human or not, who have developed an extraordinary connection can feel the ill effects of deprivation and solitude from each other after a while. It’s feasible for your souls to lose the synchronicity between them and fall out of rhythm once the connection between you two is interrupted for any considerable length of time, thereby causing the bond between you to weaken, as well as any other benefits resulting from that bond, until your two souls can be reunited again.”

“How long can true soul mates be separated before the bond gets too weak?”

“Lore has it true soul mates can be separated for hundreds, if not thousands, of years before finding each other once again.”

“Unless, of course, one of the souls is destroyed,” I added sullenly.

“As far as I know, it is the only way to truly break the bond between two souls once they have fused.”

“You know, Minerva came up with another theory as to why
the Servants want to break the bond between Quinn and me,” I said hesitantly.

“Oh, really? And what is that?”

“She thinks the Servants may have figured out a way to corrupt me.”

“And just how does she propose they do this?” Tara asked.

“She believes that destroying Quinn’s soul would break my spirit and cause me to want to give up my soul—Shepherd suicide.”

“Or as we call it—a fall from grace.”

“‘A fall from grace’?” I asked.

“No Good Samaritan in our realm would be able to do his or her job without a soul. Souls give us our sense of compassion. They serve as our conscience to help guide us when we’re required to make difficult choices for the sake of protecting humanity and the greater good. Were we to lose our souls, we would lose our philanthropic calling—we would lose our
grace
—and no longer be able to carry out our mission.

“But,” Tara continued, “having a soul also reminds us we were once human. And at one time or another, we all struggle with the desire to do more than just remember—we yearn to interact with humankind again. Whether it’s pleasure, curiosity, love, loss, or another emotion that drives our longing—we’ve all felt the urge to taste
‘life’
again. It is when one of us gives in to this longing, this deep-rooted craving, however, that we become susceptible to making some very human mistakes.” She paused, eyeing me as if to point out that I was the textbook example in this department.

“And while some errors in judgment are justified, others are not, including mistakes stemming from one’s own arrogance, greed, hatred, or envy. If we, as Shepherds, choose to let our own desires, anger, or pain come before those we are here to serve, then we also choose to willingly risk the one thing distinguishing us from so many other immortals—the sanctity of our souls—and often find ourselves losing our way, headed down a path of self-destruction.

“It becomes a very slippery slope,” she continued. “The more selfish you act, the more passive your soul becomes and the more restless your spirit grows. Eventually, the tension between the soul-spirit union becomes so great that the bond between them starts to weaken and you are no longer of pure mind. If you cannot manage to strengthen that bond, you risk forgetting the fundamental essence of who you once were as a human—the part of you that made you eligible to become one of us in the first place—and you lose whatever hold you have left on your soul.”

“Am I in danger of losing my way?” I asked warily.

“If Minerva’s theory about you is correct, then I suppose the Servants believe you might be.”

“And what do you think?” I asked.

She sighed. “I believe your past mistakes have largely been a result of forces stronger than your own will—forces created the instant you first connected with your true soul mate. I also believe you have an extraordinary bond with a young man you love very deeply. And I have no doubt it this relationship that will protect you and keep you on the right path.”

“But if I lose him … what then?” I muttered.

“I do not know,” she replied.

I suddenly thought of Peter and Madeleine. They weren’t even soul mates and he was devastated when he lost her. I thought of the lies he’d recently told. I thought of how jealous he was over my relationship with Quinn. I pictured the moment in the field in Bloomington when he’d pinned me down, his eyes dark and lustful, scaring me. And I thought about how he’d sacrificed a piece of his soul to save me. I shuddered. Could the pain of losing Madeleine have caused Peter to head down a self-destructive path and jeopardize his soul or had he taken a calculated risk when he rescued me? And if Peter’s sacrifice to save me did signal his falling from grace, just how far had he fallen? Could he still turn back?

“Have you ever known a Shepherd to fall from grace?” I asked warily.

“Yes, I have. A long time ago.” Tara sighed as she turned and walked back to her desk, signaling that this topic was not open for discussion.

* * *

Before heading back to the portal, I teleported myself to Tartuf’s office. My note was still exactly where I’d left it, which likely meant he hadn’t been back since I’d taken the Journal. Before leaving, I grabbed the pen on his desk and wrote him another note on the same scrap of paper:

July 19
Tartuf—Plan A worked! Not sure what to do now. And there’s something I have to tell you. Please contact me when you can—Evie

I looked around his office once more, scanning the vast collections of books lining the shelves. I knew none were as precious to Tartuf as the Journal because it was the only thing locked safely away. And I’d taken it against his wishes—and then I’d lost it.

Crap. Tartuf is going to be so pissed off at me.
I had to find out who stole it. But how? I wasn’t comfortable asking Tara. After all, she might not even know about the Journal, and it seemed like Tartuf already had enough on his plate without Tara questioning him about something else. As much as I didn’t want to, I knew it was time to talk to Peter.

I teleported myself to the Archives library, but there was still no trace of him. I spotted the Global Locator off to my left, but since I’d never completed my training, I had no idea how to use it. I just saw hundreds of little lights, each slightly varying in color or intensity, flitting about on a large-scale model of Earth slowly rotating on its axis.

“Eve!” I heard Agnes’s voice joyfully call out. “It feels like ages since I’ve last seen you! How are you, my child?”

“Agnes!” I turned around and smiled as she walked over to me with open arms. “It’s great to see you!” I exclaimed as I hugged her.

“Teddy and I were just talking about you.”

“Oh, really—that can’t be good,” I teased.

“Oh pish-posh. How’s that Prince Charming of yours?”

“He’s good. He’s really good.”

“And you?” She took a step back to take a good look at me. Having been apart from Quinn for nearly a day in
Mora
time, the glow surrounding my aura had faded considerably, but I was certain Agnes would pick up on it. “Something tells me that you’re doing just fine,” she said in a maternal voice, smiling.

“I am, thanks.” I scanned the room again. “Hey, have you seen Peter? I wanted to talk to him.”

“No, I am afraid I haven’t, but truth be told, I’ve been spending more and more time at the beach lately.”

“I hope you’ve been enjoying those breathtaking sunsets
with
someone,” I probed good-naturedly. Agnes looked away, trying to mask her grin.


You have!”
I exclaimed telepathically.
“Who? Agnes you
have
to tell me!”
I was so excited for her I was practically jumping up and down.


Oh, I really shouldn’t. A lady never kisses and tells,”
she replied coyly.

My mind raced through who it could be, and considering I didn’t know that many Shepherds to begin with, only one name stood out.


It’s Teddy, isn’t it?”
I squealed. Her eyes popped open in surprise.

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