Soul to Shepherd (39 page)

“So if the Servants eliminate you and your soul cannot reach Quinn’s to recharge, then what?”

“If they destroy me before they try to convert him, I imagine it’d be like our souls never fused after only a few days—at least in terms of the strength we possess now. All of the benefits of our bond would be gone. It’d be like Quinn never had superhuman strength and I—” I stopped short, afraid to tell Peter about my own immortal limitations ever since I gave my blood to the Moon Mercenaries.

“And you what? What about you?” Peter rephrased his question when I didn’t answer it the first time.

“Recently, I’ve been experiencing a few technical difficulties.”

“What kind of ‘technical difficulties’? Are they the result of the soul fusion?” he asked in concern.

“No, but they’re not the kind you want when going up against demons,” I said vaguely. “The good thing is they seem to vanish whenever Quinn and I are together.”

“Well, I suppose that is a good thing.” Peter paused for a moment. “Eve, are you all right?” The worried look in his eyes seemed so sincere. I was suddenly so irritated at Quinn for doubting Peter’s character and believing that Peter stole the Journal. “Right now, I’m feeling great, which is saying a lot considering I was practically mauled and molested by two demons,” I quipped. I looked at my watch but couldn’t tell how much time had passed since we’d been in the portal. “In fact, I’m pretty sure Dylan and Quinn are the ones having the hissy fit right about now seeing I’ve been gone for a while.”

“I’m sure they are. I’ll take you back to the Archives so you can let them know you’re all right.” Peter took my hand and held it for a moment. “You would let me know if you were feeling out of sorts, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.” I smiled and squeezed his hand reassuringly before he teleported us back to the Archives, where Dylan was already waiting for us.

“Well, I see the first of the cavalry has come for you.” Peter smirked, leaned over, and kissed me on the cheek. “It was good to see you again, Eve—even under the present circumstances.”

I nodded, smiling. “You, too.”

“Promise me you’ll let me know how you’re feeling?”

I nodded.

“Dylan, take care of our girl here, okay?” Peter flashed him an awkward grin.

“Sure thing,” Dylan replied, nodding his head once in acknowledgment. With that, Peter phased out of view.

“
You know, I can see why Quinn’s not a big fan of that guy,”
Dylan noted telepathically.
“The way Peter looks at you—it’s like he’s in love with you or something.”

“
That’s because he is,”
I responded solemnly.

“Come on,” Dylan said, offering me his hand. “It’s been more than twenty minutes. Quinn is chomping at the bit waiting for you.” He sighed heavily. “He had another bad dream last night.”

“Crap. Did he tell you what it was about?” Quinn had been doing better lately—fewer sleepless nights, fewer nightmares. My attack probably set him back.

“No, he didn’t.”

The following day, Quinn’s family gathered at his parents’ house for lunch to celebrate Doug having taken the bar exam. He was traveling to the Cayman Islands that week with some law school friends for their last hurrah before officially entering the working world. Everyone but Brady was there. Part of me wished I could be at Quinn’s side, but another part of me wasn’t in a very celebratory mood. The Servants’ recent attack had put me—had put all of us—on red alert, and my anxiety level was at an all-time high.

That night, Quinn woke up in the midst of yet another bad dream, and as with the others, he refrained from talking about it. I couldn’t get upset with him for not wanting to open up about his nightmares. We were all holding our cards close to our vests—shying away from telling one another what was running through our minds. But I also knew we weren’t going to get anything accomplished if we kept operating this way. Things had to change.

The next morning, I laid it all out on the line to Quinn, Dylan, and Minerva. Because of the attack in the nightclub, I told them I thought my being around Quinn down on Earth was too dangerous for everyone involved, including his family. I proposed staying away from Quinn while he was on the surface, and that included when I was in my phantom form. I still might’ve been invisible when I wanted to be, but I was no longer undetectable—Quinn’s aura was like a barometer. Each time I was near him, his aura glowed a little brighter, which undoubtedly would tip the Servants off as to my presence.

No one else agreed with my idea, though. Dylan reiterated the importance of strength in numbers—that we all needed to stick together and look out for one another as a team—and Quinn and Minerva sided with him wholeheartedly.

Instead of working as a team, however, I felt like we were only drifting further apart over the next couple of days. The silence among us was deafening, but my emotions were loud and chaotic, flip-flopping between anxiety, frustration, anger, and fear. I knew I wasn’t the only one quietly freaking out. Time kept slipping through our fingers and we had no real game plan. Our search for the Journal was going nowhere; it was like finding a needle in a field of haystacks—and only Dylan was allowed to search for it. To make matters worse, Quinn and I were on lock-down with twenty-four-seven protection. Neither of us was allowed to go anywhere by ourselves—not La Casa, not even the Archives. Having a constant chaperone hanging over my head was driving me crazy, especially since the one place I knew we needed to investigate if we had any hope of finding the Journal was also the one place that was off-limits—the Falls. We had to go back there, to the scene of the crime, to search for clues.

“That’s it, I’m going to the Falls,” I announced one afternoon.

“What? No!” Quinn exclaimed. “You’re the one who said we couldn’t go back there—that there could be a trap.”

“I know, but we can’t just keep throwing darts into the air and hope they stick. Maybe there’s a clue to finding the Journal up there.”

“I don’t know K.C.,” Dylan replied. “It seems like a lot of risk for not a lot of reward. I was up there, remember? The place is totally trashed. I doubt you could find anything in that mess.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m willing to do
something
other than just try to hold down the fort by keeping everyone locked inside of it.” I bit my tongue, but it was too late. My words were already out there. I knew Dylan was doing the best he could—we all were. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“We’re all on edge because we don’t know what to expect next,” Minerva said.

“Yeah, well someone knows.” Quinn zeroed in on me. “We have to find Ronald.”

“We’ve gone down this road. M and I have been searching for him high and low this entire time—he’s M.I.A., man,” Dylan stated.

“That’s my point—
you’ve
been searching for Ronald,” Quinn replied. “But he’s hung up on Evie and me. Ronald won’t want to talk to anyone but the two of us—
together
.”

“We couldn’t find Ronald when we looked for him before,” I said doubtfully.

“But he did send Ruben to talk to us—one of them has to be able to tell us something.”

“So, what are you suggesting? That the two of you go search for him
alone
?” Dylan asked. “Not gonna happen. It’s
way
too dangerous.”

“So we all go,” Quinn replied. “You and Minerva can hang back while Evie and I wait him out. We’ll head out early tomorrow morning and stake out the convenience store—all day and night if we have to. He’ll show up eventually,” he added confidently. “He has to.”

“He doesn’t
have
to,” I grumbled.

“You have a better suggestion?” Quinn asked. “One that doesn’t involve possibly walking into a trap by going to the Falls?”

“Not at the moment,” I conceded sheepishly.

“I guess I don’t see anything wrong if we all go—and we have an emergency exit strategy in place,” Dylan said.

“I’m game,” Minerva seconded.

“Evie?” Quinn looked at me hopefully.

“Fine,” I gave in reluctantly. “We’ll try your idea first.”

“Then it’s settled,” Quinn replied with a victorious smirk.

By seven o’clock the next morning, we’d found a parking spot across the street from Ronald’s favorite spot to peddle his newspapers. Minerva and Dylan were nearby, watching us like hawks. Quinn was perfectly happy sitting in the Defender, listening to music, drinking coffee, and scarfing down two chocolate-frosted donuts. I, on the other hand, was antsy. I was stuck inside a truck with little to no hope of escape anytime soon. I looked at my watch. Seven thirty-eight. Time was crawling at a snail’s pace.

“Ugh,” I moaned.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked.

“I hate being cooped up in here for so long.”

“Evie, we’ve only been sitting here for thirty minutes.”

“Thirty-
eight
minutes.”

“Fine.
Thirty-eight
minutes. Stakeouts take time.”

“This is not a stakeout, Quinn. This is a joke. We’re sitting here waiting for someone who can be anywhere in the frickin’
universe
right now. What makes you think he cares enough to stop by and grace us with his presence?”

“Have a little faith.” I could tell from Quinn’s tone he wasn’t in the mood to deal with my whining.

“Sorry,” I said, feeling a small pang of guilt over my behavior. “It’s just this whole thing is so
frustrating
. You’d think Ronald or Ruben, or whoever’s even
remotely
on our side, would be tripping over their feet to give us any useful information. But it’s like they’re avoiding us instead. I don’t get it.”

“Ronald will show up. Trust me, he wants to see us. We’re like his pet project. And now that we’re soul magnets, we’re like an irresistible attraction. All we have to do is dangle ourselves in front of him long enough, and he’ll take the bait.”

“I hope you’re right. And I hope he shows up soon,” I added under my breath, fidgeting in my seat as I tried to get more comfortable.

“Come on,” Quinn said, sighing. He turned off the truck, stepped out of the car, walked around to my side, and opened the door.

“Where are we going?”

“Just c’mon.” Quinn took me by the hand, leading me across the street and into the store. Ten minutes later, we emerged from the mart with half a dozen magazines and a Chicago Tribune. We got back into the Defender, where I started flipping through the pages of my favorite magazine.

“Happy now?”

“Yes,” I purred. “Thanks.” I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled.

A couple hours later, I was all caught up on the latest fashion trends and Hollywood gossip and had switched gears to an article on carbon footprints. Quinn had finished reading the paper and seemed content watching and waiting for Ronald.

“Are you sure you don’t want something to read?”

He picked up one of the fashion magazines I’d already read and looked at the cover. “Ten Essential Wardrobe ‘Must Haves’ for Fall.” He looked up at me. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself.” I giggled. “I have other stuff, too, you know.”

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Okay.” I turned back to the article I was reading but couldn’t focus on the words on the page because I was more interested in what was running through Quinn’s head.

“Whatcha thinking about?” I asked, closing the magazine.

“Nothing much.” His response was so automatic I doubted he’d even considered my question for more than a second.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.” I purposely tried to sound disappointed. “I mean, I don’t want to pry or anything.”

“You’re not.” He glanced at me before gazing back out the windshield. “It’s just that I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to burden you with it all.”

“We’re a
team,
remember? You shoulder some of my burden, and I shoulder some of yours. And, right now, I really want to know what’s on your mind.”

“Honestly?” he asked, turning towards me. The look in his eyes made me a little uneasy.

“Yes,” I replied, trying to sound as certain as I’d been the moment before.

Quinn took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair as he exhaled. “Why did you duck out when I talked to my dad about us?” he asked.

“I was too nervous to hear his reaction when he found out we were engaged.”

“And you’re not even a little curious to find out what he said?”

“Of course I am. I figured you’d tell me if you wanted, but you never did.”

“Because you never asked.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Well, I’m asking now.”

He sighed heavily and looked out the front windshield again. “He wasn’t thrilled.”

“He doesn’t like me?” I asked nervously.

“No, he thinks you’re great—awesome, actually. He just thinks we’re rushing into things too fast. He said I’m too young.” He chuckled wryly. “And he said you’re
way
too young.”

“I’m sensing a theme among your family—first Tommy, then your mom, now your dad,” I joked weakly.

“Yeah, well, they don’t know the unique circumstances of our relationship.”

“So, where did you leave it with him?”

“I made him three promises.” He held up one finger. “One, I promised him you weren’t pregnant. Two,” he continued, holding up a second finger, “that we weren’t going to run off and elope anytime in the near future. And three, that we’d wait a while before setting an official date,” he finished, holding up a third finger.

“And?”

“After he lectured me about how I should wait to take such a big step in my life, he calmed down, poured us another scotch, and gave me some ‘marital advice.’”

“Oh boy.” I sighed. “And what was that?”

“Thirty-five years worth of lessons learned from being married to my mom.” Quinn chuckled.

“That sounds a little rough—sorry.”

“It wasn’t too bad. He did tell me one really good piece of advice though.”

“Which is?”

“He said to never go to bed angry on the off-chance you wake up the next morning and can’t say you’re sorry.”

“That is good advice.”

“Oh, and he also told me nine times out of ten the man is always right.” He smirked impishly.

“He did not!” I exclaimed in shock.

“He did! I swear!” Quinn’s smile grew even wider. “But then he added that it’s usually because his wife was the one telling him what to do in the first place.”

We both laughed.

“Well, you’ve been the one calling the right shots these days
without
my help—in fact, in spite of it at times,” I said.

“Wait a minute, are you saying I’m right ninety percent of the time?” he asked, eyebrows cocked, shamelessly fishing for a compliment.

“Let’s not go overboard.” I rolled my eyes. “All I meant was I think your gut instincts have been serving you well
lately
.”

“You just don’t want to admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That I’ve been right
way more
than you,
lately
.” He was grinning from ear to ear.

“Are you done gloating?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Not a chance,” he chuckled.

“You know, you can be a real Grade A—”

Quinn cut me off by leaning over and kissing me. “You know, you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

“Go ahead and soak it all up while you can, but your ego will get checked at the door when Ronald doesn’t show up,” I teased.

“Oh yeah? And when he does show, I can’t wait to hear you tell me I was right,
again
,” he countered, gently tracing the length of my nose from bridge to tip with his finger before kissing me again.

Quinn’s lunch consisted of an energy drink, a bag of chips, and a candy bar.

“How can you eat that for lunch?” I asked in disgust.

“Stakeout food,” Quinn replied nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

“And the doughnuts this morning?”

“Also stakeout food.” He popped a chip in his mouth and then grinned.

“I can’t wait to see what’s for dinner.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll get the chance to find out.” His posture straightened and he leaned forward to get a better look outside.

“And why’s that?” I stopped short when I sensed a very particular presence. “Ronald,” I said in disbelief. I scanned the street and saw him dressed in his homeless garb, walking with crate in hand to his usual spot. I quickly got out of the car and stood where he could see me.

“
Hello, Ronald,
” I said telepathically.

“
Hello, angel
,” he replied, smiling. “
It’s good to see you again.
”

“It’s been a while,” I called out to him and smiled, at which point Quinn also got out of the car. Hand in hand, we walked over to Ronald.

“Hello, my friend,” Ronald greeted Quinn. “My brother enjoyed meeting the two of you.”

“I had no idea you were a twin,” Quinn replied.

“Some family secrets are best kept under wraps, hmm?” Ronald winked at Quinn and flashed him the knowing look of someone who had a tense sibling relationship. Ronald then turned to me. “I do apologize for having to send him as my proxy. I was unavoidably detained.”