The Cathedral of Cliffdale by Melissa Delport Read Free Book Online

drily, still focusing on Phil and answering his initial question.
    “I don’t think you’ve met Quinn,” Phil placed the drinks on the counter in front of them, and Quinn immediately took a hearty slug of her beer. Drake turned his head slowly towards her as Phil continued, “Quinn is staying in the old Monroe house on Ridge Road.”
    “Is that so?” Drake asked, his cruel green eyes boring into Quinn’s face.
    “Yes,” she replied brightly, taking another swig of beer and wishing the bartender hadn’t been so free with giving out her address. “Where do you stay?”
    “Oh Drake and Genevieve are just around the corner from you,” Phil interjected pleasantly, “in Abbey Place.” Phil didn’t notice, but Drake’s eyes narrowed briefly – he was not thrilled either with Phil’s light bandying around of information.
    “How long have you been in town?” he asked, his voice low and melodious.
    “Three weeks. I’m still getting to know everyone.”
    “Drake knows everybody, of course,” Phil could not seem to let it go. “He and his wife, Genevieve...”
    “Girlfriend,” Drake corrected.
    “More's the pity,” Phil jested, “yes, well, he and his girlfriend have been here nearly... five years is it, Drake?”
    “Six.” Drake didn’t take his eyes off Quinn’s face. Feeling the thin stake in her boot pressing against her leg calmed her and she met his gaze levelly.
    “Ah, your pizzas are ready,” Phil reached behind him to pull the boxes from the serving window and Quinn, grateful for the distraction, looked away as she got to her feet and paid for the pizzas and her beer. Drake drained his glass and stood up, towering over her.
    “I’m also heading home,” he announced and a feeling of dread came over Quinn, “I’ll walk you.”
    “You don’t have to do this,” Quinn muttered as they made their way down the street. She would probably feel safer if her arms weren’t laden with pizza boxes, limiting her ability to reach for her stake.
    “It’s not exactly out of my way.”
    Quinn’s mind whirled. What would a vampire be doing out here in the middle of nowhere? Granted, there were thousands of vampires in the realm of man – denied access to Summerfeld – and they could turn as many humans as they wanted. The sheer number of their population, despite the Hunters' best efforts to reduce them, was why Quinn’s faith in the prophecy was so shrouded with doubt. There were only a few hundred inhabitants of Summerfeld – it seemed unlikely that they would ever achieve a balance. No matter how many vampires they killed, it seemed twice as many were created. Vampires had enhanced speed, strength and heightened senses – their sight and hearing was incomparable. They also had unnatural healing powers which, like their other abilities, amplified with age. Idly Quinn wondered just how long Drake had been a vampire. He was attractive, in a hard, unyielding way; tall and pale, with short cropped hair, so dark it looked black in the moonlight.
    Quinn took comfort in the fact that Drake could not sense that she was a Guardian - Guardians were indiscernible from humans to a vampire – but the silver watch she had taken to wearing on her left wrist to cover her tattoo suddenly felt like a hopelessly inadequate cover. Her instinct spurred her to destroy him – a natural threat to the supernatural beings she was sworn to protect – but Quinn had long learned to control these impulses. Only the Hunters flamed this primary instinct, honing it; their sole purpose to destroy. Guardians like Quinn were simply protectors, and they killed only when their lives, or the lives of their wards, were threatened. 
    “So... your girlfriend, Genevieve...” she began, but she had not realised how long they had walked in silence.
    “We’re here,” he interrupted, coming to a sudden stop.
    “Oh, right...” Quinn trailed off, “I’m actually going over to my neighbours' – not even I can polish off two