Soul to Shepherd (13 page)

“What time is it?” he asked in between kisses.

“Do you really care?” I grinned, wrapping my arms around his waist.

“No.” He smiled back.

Technically, Tara had given Quinn and me the freedom to explore the depths of our “emotional” relationship. And while an argument could be made that our physical intimacy was very much tied to our emotional growth, Tara’s earlier warnings about flaunting the “friendlier” aspects of my relationship with Quinn still rang loud and clear. Moreover, between the countless pairs of prying eyes I
knew
were watching us down here on the surface and the possibility of someone watching us in the Falls, I’d pick the portal over the pool house any day.

Dylan and Minerva showed up at Quinn’s parents’ house at five o’clock sharp. They rang the doorbell, which I could only assume was Minerva’s idea seeing as Dylan never announced his arrival.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Quinn greeted the two cheerfully.

“Nice digs,” Dylan said with approval. “What’s your dad do again?”

“He’s retired, but he was an investment banker.”

“Well, he must’ve been a pretty damn good one! I mean look at this place!” Dylan remarked in awe.

“Thanks for inviting us,” Minerva chimed in before Dylan could continue.

“Hey, the way I see it, you’re doing us the favor by staying,” Quinn remarked.

“Hello, Evie,” Minerva greeted me when she saw me standing on the staircase in the front entryway. Her makeup was flawless—not too much, just right for a breezy summer evening, right down to the powder-pink polish on her manicured fingers and pedicured toes. She was wearing a black strapless sundress that hugged every curve of her body down to her ankles.

Unbelievable,
I thought. A twinge of jealousy pricked me as I pictured what I must look like next to her. I was wearing a fitted, navy and white striped cotton sweater, white shorts and wedge sandals—something I’d copied straight from the pages of a magazine—and I still couldn’t compete in the fashion department.

“Hello, Minerva. Thanks for coming,” I said politely.

“Happy to be here.” She smiled radiantly.

Admittedly, Minerva seemed genuine enough, but I still didn’t trust her. There were too many red flags. There was the recent issue with the mysterious, disappearing note. And then there was the question of how she’d managed to get Dylan, a devoted lover of
all
females, to fall so quickly and hopelessly for her. For that matter, of all the Watchers out there, why was she the one assigned to Quinn? Was it to make Dylan fall for her?

How could she even be all that interested in Dylan? Other than their obvious good looks, I couldn’t see anything they had in common. She looked like a fashionista who belonged in London or Paris. And Dylan? Dylan was …
Dylan
. He was almost ten years her junior. A surfer who loved animals and the outdoors. Material possessions meant nothing to him. He couldn’t care less if his clothes came from the Salvation Army. In fact, he’d probably prefer to walk around naked. Plus, he was a big-time player whose “little black book” was probably the size of the Manhattan phone book! So what in the world made her ever suspect he was boyfriend material in the first place?

“Why don’t I show you around?” I offered her, trying to mask my mistrust with etiquette.

“That’d be great,” Minerva replied enthusiastically.

“I want to see this pool house Quinn keeps bragging about,” Dylan teased.

“Ladies, I’ll take Dylan on the abbreviated tour.” Quinn smiled at me. Immediately, I felt the heat swell in my belly as I flashed back to the last couple of hours we’d spent in the portal. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to calm myself.

“Go for it,” I smiled.

“Meet you out there?” Quinn asked.

I nodded and turned to Minerva. “Ready for the grand tour?”

“Lead the way.”

Twenty minutes later, Minerva and I found Quinn and Dylan playing a game of one-on-one volleyball in the pool—only they seemed to have added a water polo component.

“Care to join us?” Dylan asked.

“And interrupt your fun?” Minerva responded playfully.

“Yeah, I think we’ll pass,” I chimed in.

“Why don’t Evie and I meet you two out on the patio when you’re ready for a break?” Minerva offered.

The guys didn’t even respond. They were too busy trying to grab possession of the volleyball, which had escaped their clutches and floated away while they were trying to dunk each other. I was happy to see Dylan exercising self-control during this alpha-male display of strength and skill. He could’ve easily overpowered Quinn, but he was restraining himself, making it a fair fight—well,
relatively
fair.

Minerva and I walked over to the flagstone patio off of the kitchen. I followed her to one of the two small groupings of lounge chairs and sat down next to her. As much as we both pretended to relax and enjoy nature’s serenade of crickets that welcomed the evening’s arrival, there was an awkward silence filling the air between us.

“I know what you must be thinking,” Minerva said, finally breaking the tension.

“And what’s that?”

“You’re wondering why I’m here.”

“Yes, I am,” I replied frankly.

“I’m here because I want to help. You and Quinn are Dylan’s friends. He cares about the two of you, and I care about him. I don’t want to see him get hurt if anything should happen to either of you.”

Too smooth,
I said to myself.
Too rehearsed. There has to be more to it than that.

“I know you’re sitting there, dissecting my answer. You’re questioning whether you should trust me. I would, too, if I were in your shoes. There’s too much at stake not to.”

“So, then, what would you do if you were in my position?” I asked curiously.

“I would ask myself, ‘Why now?’ Why did this girl show up in Dylan’s life at the exact moment all hell is about to break loose? What’s her agenda? What is she after? Is she a friend or foe?” She paused and looked at me. “Am I close?”

“Spot on, actually.”

“Well, in response to why I showed up when I did, all I can tell you is it was the luck of the draw. I was assigned to Quinn’s case as his Watcher—plain and simple. Dylan’s and my relationship was just a byproduct of wheels already set in motion.”

I studied her response, not entirely sure what to make of the bold tactics she was using to try to break the ice between us.

“Look,” she continued, “I can sit here and try to convince you that I’m a friend—that I have no other agenda than to spend time with Dylan and help Quinn and you the best I’m able—but we both know that’d just be a waste of breath. You’re going to have to come to that conclusion on your own.” There was no animosity or arrogance in her voice.

“And what if I don’t come to that conclusion?”

“Then I’ll go. I’ll leave and break all contact with Dylan until Quinn is safe and this Servant fiasco is behind you. You can’t afford to have me as a distraction—and neither can Dylan. You both have to stay focused in order to protect Quinn and yourselves.”

“You would
leave
? Just like that?”

“Well, not forever. It would be only a matter of days, weeks maybe, for me up in my realm.” She shrugged.

“Yeah, I suppose it would.”

“But, Evie, I really hope it doesn’t come to that. I hope you come to realize that I’m a friend who wants to help.”

“I hope so, too.”

“You two getting along?” Dylan called out as he and Quinn walked towards us, still dripping wet from the pool. I could see the concern in Dylan’s eyes. No doubt he’d heard our entire conversation.

“Brilliantly,” Minerva replied with a wide smile. Dylan smiled, leaned over her chair, and shook himself off like a wet dog. She laughed as she made a half-hearted attempt to shield herself with her hands.

“Oh, sorry. Did I get you all wet?” Dylan feigned innocence. Still dripping, he kissed her. To my surprise, she didn’t seem to mind. So maybe she wasn’t as high maintenance as her appearance had led me to believe.

Quinn, on the other hand, winked at me and dried himself off with a towel before leaning over to kiss me. I smiled appreciatively at him.

“Who won?” I asked.

“It was a draw,” Dylan reported.

“Yeah, sure,” Quinn scoffed. “If a draw means me totally getting my ass smoked.”

“Oh, c’mon. You got some decent spikes in there,” Dylan said in conciliation.

“Thanks for trying to make me look good, but I can accept losing a game of volleyball to an immortal.”

“That’s very big of you,” I teased.

“That’s me. Big—and starving, actually. I’d offer you all something to eat, but—” He chuckled in amusement.

I followed him inside to the kitchen where he turned on the oven and popped in a thin crust sausage pizza. I checked my watch anxiously. I had put this discussion off and now I only had forty-five minutes before I was supposed to meet Jaegar and Chase again. Without getting the assurances I needed from Tartuf, there was no way I was bringing Quinn. They said there would be no deal without a sample of his blood, which meant I didn’t need to bring him. Unfortunately, it also meant I needed to tell Quinn where I was going in order for him to agree to give me the sample.
Crap.
He was
not
going to like any part of this.

“Umm, Quinn, I have to tell you something.”

“Shoot,” Quinn said in between bites of a banana.

“I have another meeting with Jaegar and Chase in forty-five minutes.”

“Another meeting?” Quinn asked. I could see a vortex of emotions swirling in his eyes—worry, anger, confusion.

“Evie, are you sure it’s such a good idea to meet with them again?” Dylan asked as he suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway.

Damn Shepherd ears. Is nothing sacred?
I scowled.
Did I think it was a good idea? No, not really. But I didn’t have any other feasible choices.

“They say they’ve got a line in to help us get what we want,” I replied.

“And what do ‘we’ want exactly?” Quinn asked.

“Your blood,” I replied matter-of-factly. “Specifically, the vial the Servants took from you last April.”

“And why do we need to get that back?” Dylan asked.

“Because the Servants can use it to get Quinn to do what they want him to do.”

“How?” Quinn asked.

“The Servants will use the blood in a ritual,” I said vaguely.

“I don’t like this,” Dylan declared. “I’m going with you.”

“You can’t,” I replied. “They’re not expecting another Shepherd. I don’t want to risk blowing the deal.”

“Then let me come with you,” Quinn offered. “It’s my blood they’re trying to retrieve.”

“Actually, they asked me to bring you.”

“Great, then it’s settled. I’m going,” he asserted.

“No!” Dylan and I shouted in unison.

“I feel like I’m missing the party,” Minerva stated as she walked into the kitchen.

“Yeah, well, don’t,” Quinn huffed. “Evie just informed us she has another meeting with those two Moon Mercenaries she met last night, and they want her to bring me along—only Dylan and Evie aren’t too thrilled with the idea.”

“Quinn, while I don’t think they’re setting a trap, I still don’t trust them,” I stated. “Besides they don’t need to meet you … they just need a sample of your blood,” I said somewhat hesitantly. “They need it to track your scent if they’re going to find the blood the Servants stole from you,” I added in the wake of the horrified stares Quinn and Dylan were both flashing me.

“Who are these Moon Mercenaries? Vampires? Bloodhounds?” Dylan demanded.

“No, they’re hired guns with ties to the Underworld,” Minerva stated, completely unfazed. “They’ll do just about anything—for the right price,” she continued warily, never taking her eyes off of me.

Crap, she knows
.
I stared back at her, pleading with my eyes not to say anything more.

“What are you thinking, meeting with these scumbags?” Quinn demanded angrily.

“By yourself!” Dylan threw in, equally pissed off.

“I’m doing what I have to in order to get Quinn’s blood back!” I snapped.

“Fuck my blood!” Quinn hollered. “The demons can have it! It’s not worth risking your safety—your future!”

“It’s not just
my
future I’m risking if we don’t get it back!” I blurted out in frustration.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Quinn looked a bit taken aback.

“It means I have to go to this meeting,
alone
,
with some of your blood,” I explained curtly.

“K.C., what’s going on?” Dylan asked in concern.

“Dylan, love, I’m sure Evie has a very good explanation for all of this—one that she can tell us
after
her meeting,” Minerva offered, coming to my aid. “Right?” She looked at me expectantly.

“I won’t be able to tell you anything about the meeting if they leave because they think I blew them off.”

“Evie, you don’t need—” Quinn began.

“Quinn, please don’t tell me ‘I don’t need to do this’ because I really do,” I said softly, cutting him off.

“Fine.” Instantly, his pained expression turned ice cold. He pulled a paring knife out of a kitchen drawer and cut across the fleshy part of his palm. He squeezed his hand, pumping blood out of the wound, smeared it onto a dishtowel nearby, and tossed it at me. “Here’s my damn blood.” Then he stormed out of the room.

“K.C., you sure you’re okay to go alone?” Dylan asked me.

I nodded. “This is the only way.”

He gave me a quick little nod. “I’ll go talk to College Boy—and heal his hand.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“You do realize what you’re getting yourself into, don’t you?” Minerva whispered quietly when Dylan had left the room.

“Yes.”

“And you’re positive you want to go through with this?”

“Minerva, do you know
why
I need to get his blood back?” I inquired.

She nodded sympathetically.

“I see.” I exhaled loudly. “Then you should know I have no other choice.”

She nodded again.