Soul to Shepherd (43 page)

“Guys! Stop!” Dylan shouted, just as a hairline fissure began to form in the ground, extending from my feet all the way to where Quinn was standing in the pool.

Quinn and I both stopped dead in our tracks, taking turns glancing at the crack and then at each other.

“Fine, have it your way. I won’t talk to Peter,” I backed down, feeling utterly frustrated. “But the way I see it, we’re screwed. The Servants have your blood. They can perform the ritual. We, on the other hand, have
nothing—nada—zilch.
Without that Journal, we have no clue where the ritual will take place, we have no way of knowing how to stop it, and the only way we know for sure how to prevent it is no longer an option because someone has decided to be a stubborn ass!” By the end of my rant, I was yelling, and the hairline crack had now extended three feet up the wall of the house behind me. I took a deep breath, exhaled and turned to see three faces staring back at me in silence.

“I need some space,” I said, walking away.

An hour later, Minerva found me sitting in a lounge chair watching the roaring fire. She sat down beside me.

“Where’s Quinn?” I asked.

“Giving you space.”

“Hmm.” I nodded. “And Dylan?”

“Trying to find Peter.”

“Really?” I asked in surprise.

“Yeah, that was some speech.”

“I think it was closer to a fit of rage.”

“Well, whatever it was, it seemed to get the job done. Even Quinn was cool with Dylan going to talk to Peter.”

“Wow. And has Quinn changed his mind about anything else?” I asked hopefully.

“No.”

“So he’s still being a stubborn ass.”

“As stubborn as ever,” Minerva agreed. “I tried to talk to him, but his mind is set. He wants to stay on Earth the night of the full moon. He thinks he can save his brother.”

“And what about himself?” I asked. “Who’s going to save him?”

“We’re all going to do our best to protect him.”

“I just don’t understand why he can’t even
consider
things from my perspective.”

“I’m sure he’s asking the same question about you.” Minerva sighed.
“Look, can you really blame him?”
she continued telepathically.
“I mean, for the past year, Servants have been hunting him. And just when he thinks it’s all over, he finds out that not only are these demons still after him—and will be for as long as he’s alive—but that they’re planning on converting his brother too. He feels guilty. He thinks it’s all somehow his fault, and he’s convinced himself that he has to try to help Brady if he can.”

“
I don’t want anything bad to happen to Brady, but this just isn’t the right time.”

“
If not now, then when?”
Minerva asked.

“
When
we
decide. They’ll wait to convert Brady until they have Quinn.”

“
Maybe they will, maybe they won’t.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re on Quinn’s side?” I asked aloud.

“We’re all on the same side. We all want to walk out of this. It’s just that I understand where Quinn’s coming from.”

“But if he’d just be reasonable and give us one more month, we’d be able to—”

“We’d be able to what?” Minerva interjected. “Figure it all out? Find the magic bullet that will put an end to all of this forever? Look,” she continued in the wake of my silence, “for what it’s worth, Quinn’s a smart guy. He’s not going into this blindly, and I respect him for wanting to stand up and fight.”

“
And if he ends up a Servant?”
I asked her telepathically.

She frowned.
“You know we can’t let that happen.”

“
I know.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision.

“
And
he
knows it too.”

I just nodded and cleared my throat, choking back the aching feeling creeping into it.

“Don’t worry, Evie, we’re going to figure something out.”

I already have
, I thought silently to myself. If Quinn didn’t come to his senses, I’d take matters into my own hands—I’d kidnap him myself if I had to.

“Is it safe?” Quinn asked, half-joking, as he peeked his head out the door.

“Yes,” Minerva answered, smiling. “I was just going to try to find Dylan to see if he would show me around the Archives. I’ve heard it’s lovely.” She smiled and phased out of view.

“So,” Quinn began, walking outside to join me.

“So,” I repeated coolly.

“You’re mad at me for wanting to try to save Brady.”

“No,” I corrected him. “I’m
upset
with you because you want rush in and try to save him
now.
Quinn, you just got your strength—you barely know how to use it. You don’t even know what you’re capable of yet. I mean, you just discovered you have super-hearing. What if you continue to grow stronger? Develop new skills? If you’d just give it another month, I really think we’d be in a different situation—we’d be better prepared to save Brady
and
you rather than risk losing you both—not to mention Dylan and Minerva.”

“And you,” Quinn added.

“So if you’re aware of this, then why won’t you be reasonable and wait one more month?”

“And if Brady doesn’t have another month?”

“You heard Ronald—they’ll wait to convert him until they have you.”

“That was just a theory. He has no proof of that.”

“Well, if that’s the case, have you even considered that Brady has already been converted? That maybe he’s already a Servant?”

“Yes,” he said softly.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do then? If you should run into him?”

Quinn cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

“Have you?”

“I’ll destroy him,” he said with a straight face.

“You would do that?” I asked in shock. “You would kill your own brother?”

“If Brady is already a Servant, then he’s no longer my brother,” he said resolutely. “And no matter what he’s done in the past, he shouldn’t pay for it by spending an eternity as a demon. He would never have wanted that.”

“Quinn, you know it’s not that cut and dry.”

“Yeah, I know. But what else can I do? Let him be a monster that hurts other people—that would hurt
you
if given half the chance?” The tortured expression on his face was almost more than I could bear.

“Did Ronald tell you something
private
during our meeting with him?”

He shifted uncomfortably.

“Quinn, I saw the way he looked at you. I saw you nod. What did he tell you?”

“It’s nothing.” He shifted again. He was lying.

“So, now it’s your turn to hide something from me?”

“Only because I want to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

He just looked at me and shook his head.

“Did he tell you what would happen if we tried to save Brady on the seventeenth?”

Quinn averted his gaze.

“Quinn, please tell me. I need to know.”

He still didn’t respond.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because then it won’t work.”

“Because I’ll try to stop you from doing it,” I presumed.

Again, Quinn was silent.

“You know I’d do anything to save you—whether you agree with it or not,” I stated.

“And I’d do anything to save you.”

“Is that what you’re trying to do? Save me?” My mind was buzzing anxiously.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and caressed my cheek. “You know how long it’s been since I wasn’t afraid to close my eyes at night? The nightmares …”

“You don’t have to tell me about them.”

“No, I want you to know. They seem so real it’s like I’m seeing the future—or some version of it. It starts with me looking in a mirror, staring at this demonized version of myself with red eyes. I still have my memories—I still remember who I was when I was human, but I don’t feel human anymore. All I can feel is hate, anger, jealousy … I’m evil. I’m a monster. And then I see myself turn into this unrecognizable form—some roaming dark cloud with the same burning red eyes, and I’m in a forest searching like crazy for you. I’m
hunting
you. I know I loved you once, but I don’t remember what it felt like—and I don’t care. All I want to do is hurt you. And then I find you,” he paused, “and I—I do these horrible things to you.” His voice was trembling, and he shivered involuntarily. “I destroy you in the cruelest way without even giving it a second thought.”

“Quinn, it’s just a dream.”

“Is it? It’s been the same exact dream every single time—save one. A couple of nights ago, I had a different dream. I was still me, but I was pretty messed up and strapped to some board. Some guy was towering over me in this long red robe. He’s older, around my dad’s age, with a silver buzz cut and a black goatee. His eyes are as black as night, except for when they’re red as hell.” He paused. “Is that what Mathius looks like?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Well, he was standing over me with another guy in a black robe, who was chanting something. You were there, and so were Dylan and Minerva. Things were looking bad, but then things changed—this scene played itself out and Mathius didn’t convert me. And today, Ronald asked me about that dream. Evie, he
knew
about it. And suddenly, my dream became a plan.”

“A plan you won’t tell me,” I said, flustered.

“We both know there’s a lot more at stake here than just the two of us. And we know the Servants can’t complete the ritual—we can’t let them destroy my soul and take the Key. And I can’t
ever
become a soulless monster, Evie.
Ever.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I declared, trying not to panic at the finality of his message.

“But if it does, if I become a Servant, I won’t be me anymore. I won’t feel the same way about you—or worse, I won’t care that I ever felt anything at all. All I’ll be thinking about is we’re on opposite sides of the line. And all I’ll want to do is hurt you. I’ve seen it. I’ve dreamt it too many times. I don’t want to be that person—that
thing.
I
won’t
.” I could hear his voice catch. “You said you’d do anything to save me—tell me that includes saving me from becoming one of them.”

My soul was screaming for me to reach out to him, to take him in my arms and whisk him far away to protect him, but I just sat there, frozen, unable to accept what he was saying.

“We
will
find a way to protect your soul
and
your life,” I managed hoarsely.

“If we run out of options, I need you to
promise
me you’ll do whatever it takes to save my soul.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking me to do.” I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my cheeks.

“Yes, I do,” he whispered.

“Quinn—”

“Please, Evie, I need to know you’ll save me.”

“You’re asking me to kill you!” I cried. “That isn’t
saving
you!”

“Yes, it is.” He caressed my cheek. “Please, promise me.” I watched a single tear streak down his cheek.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I jumped up from the lounge chair and bolted inside the house, leaving Quinn sitting alone beside the roaring fire.

Quinn slept in his own bed at his parents’ house that night. As Minerva and I walked the perimeter of the Harrison’s property in the wee hours, I looked up at the moon. Eleven nights from now it would be full, and we were no closer to saving Quinn.

Despite several attempts, Dylan hadn’t been able to locate Peter, so I was left writing down every detail of the ritual I could remember over the next few days. At night, the four of us held strategy and sparring sessions for hours on end in the portal. With Quinn’s new strength and speed, his combat training took on a whole new direction, which for better or worse, made him more lethal than ever. The rest of the time, I obsessed over everything I’d remembered reading in the Journal, attempting to figure out any clues as to where and what time the ritual might take place and what we could do to stop it.

Sparing Quinn the most gory of details, I shared the basics of what I knew about the ritual—the bloodletting, the “spear of light,” the soul extraction, and the ingestion of the contaminated blood. I explained how, in order for the ritual to be performed, at least eleven Servants had to be present, some of which were clan bigwigs.

We all agreed the part of the ritual where the human being is prepared “under the iridescent glow of the dark sky” must’ve meant the ritual itself took place on Earth under the light of the full moon. None of us, however, knew what piercing a human being with a “spear of light” meant, and Minerva and I tabled the discussion when Dylan and Quinn playfully reenacted the fight scene between Obi Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader—but with real swords instead of light sabers.

We also had to consider when the Servants would try to kidnap Quinn and prepare him for the ritual. All those chosen for conversion had to be bled within an inch of their lives just prior to the ritual, so we figured one day, two at the most, was more than enough time to take Quinn and “prepare” him. Still, that didn’t mean the Servants wouldn’t try to grab him earlier.

One thing was for certain—all sides were playing for keeps. There was no longer any room for error, which meant one of us had to be at Quinn’s side, practically touching him, every second. Dylan felt Quinn’s heartbeat on Earth, but not when Dylan was on the surface and Quinn was in the portal. We assumed the same would be true if Quinn were taken to the Underworld. So if the Servants got their hands on him, the odds of finding and rescuing him before the ritual took place would be zero to none.

That said, we still had to prepare for the worst. If Quinn slipped through our fingers and the Servants found a way to grab him, we had to have a plan in place to try to find him and interrupt the ritual once it started. The question was how?

Assuming we were right, and the ritual would be performed on Earth, Dylan would hear Quinn’s heartbeat the minute he resurfaced, from which we could then find his location—but that was assuming Quinn’s heart was still beating strongly enough to send out a sufficient homing signal. And even then, even if we found him, it would be the three of us against eleven Servants—or more.