Under the Moon (Goddesses Rising)

Chapter Eleven

Historically, the Society deemed it wise to hide the abilities of

our members from the general public. Though full secrecy is not practical or desired in modern society, caution should rule all goddess-related activities. In addition, interaction with non-goddess authorities is to be considered only under extreme circumstances, when all other options are exhausted.

—The Society for Goddess Education and Defense, Public Relations Handbook

…



“I need to borrow your car.” Quinn didn’t wait for Chloe, who’d followed her into the hall, to answer. “Please,” she added, but only because autopilot told her to. She strode down the hall, Chloe running to keep up with Quinn’s longer legs and desperation.

“What’s going on?”

“Nick’s been shot, and it’s serious.”

“I’ll come with you,” Chloe said immediately, but instead of moving faster, her stride slowed. Quinn turned back, ready to protest. Her friend had said she didn’t want to leave the ocean, and despite her positive attitude about the whole thing, Quinn doubted she was ready to come face to face with her leecher. Without power, she’d be vulnerable if it came to a fight. But the keys in Chloe’s hand rattled before she closed her fist over them, and even then her hand still shook.

“Thank you, Chloe, but it’s better if you stay.”

“I can identify Adrian.” Her voice cracked on his name, and despair slumped her shoulders.

“I don’t even know if he’s there.” Quinn walked back to Chloe and hugged her. “Nick could have been shot for trespassing or something.” Her throat clenched, and adrenaline surged again, driving her to leave, to get there now.

Chloe handed Quinn the keys to her Prius. “I’m sorry. Yes, take my car. I’ll get a ride from someone.”

Quinn took the keys but hesitated. “I’m sorry. I’m being—”

“What you need to be. Go.” She turned Quinn toward the door and shoved.

Quinn ran. She jumped into the car and took off without familiarizing herself with any of the controls. At the first stoplight, she punched the coordinates Sam had given her into Chloe’s GPS system. After that, she tapped what power she could to cast ahead and make sure every light was green when she reached it. When she got on the highway, she checked surrounding energies for radar, only slowing when she sensed its use. Then she did ninety up I-95, wishing she had enough power to jump herself to Nick’s side. But even if it were possible—which it wasn’t—it would require massive amounts of energy, and then she wouldn’t have any left to help Nick.

And she knew he needed her help. Sam hadn’t given her any details. Okay, she hadn’t let him. She’d ordered him to give her their location and hung up on him, a stupid move. She was driving too fast to risk calling him back. The longer she drove, the harder it was not to notice that he hadn’t called her back, either.

She didn’t know if Nick was in a hospital, if he was dying or dead, who had shot him and why, or what he’d been doing to get shot in the first place.

“It was a simple scouting mission,” she ground out to no one. She wished telepathy was one of her abilities. She had to conserve her use as much as possible, which pretty much limited her to turning red lights green and avoiding cops. The quirk that allowed her to measure time passing was enhanced as the full moon approached, and she’d never hated it as much as she did now, when every minute, every second, passed in agonizing slowness.

The GPS beeped, and she slowed the car. An exit sign loomed ahead of her, and the unit told her to take the exit. She was near the New Hampshire/Maine border, and had set a land-speed record getting here. But “here” was nowhere, she realized as she coasted to the end of the ramp. She looked right and saw only darkness and trees. No signs. To the left was a sign for a town twenty miles away, and nothing else. The GPS flashed. She was here.

No one was behind her—and hadn’t been for the last half hour—so she fished out her phone. Sam had called twice, and she hadn’t even heard the ring. Dammit. She dialed him back.

“Are you okay?” he asked as soon as he answered.

“Fine. Drove fast. I’m here, but ‘here’ is nowhere.”

“You’re at the end of the ramp?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, turn right and go about three miles. Then call me back.” He hung up.

“Sam! Shit.” She set the phone down and hit the trip meter as she turned right. Less than three minutes later, she called Sam back.

“Left on the dirt road. Go a little over a mile, and turn left again on the wagon track. We’re a few hundred yards up. You’ll see the Charger first.” He hung up again.

Cursing more foully, Quinn did as Sam had instructed, trying not to bottom out the Prius on the rutted dirt road or the vegetation between faint double lines he called wagon track. Then there it was, the Charger, parked askew on the side of the road. There was no one there. She crept forward. The car hit a bump, jostling her, then glided across new macadam. She braked and stared at the brightly lit two-story building ahead of her and the three rows of parking containing a few cars between her and the building.

She pulled into an empty spot and looked for a sign or any kind of identification to tell her where she was, but she saw nothing. Uncomfortable with the whole scene, she charged ahead anyway. Sam came out the double glass doors as she approached the building.

“Thank god.” He grabbed her hand and rushed her inside. “I’m sorry, Quinn. But thanks for hurrying.”

“What’s happening? Where’s Nick? What is this place?” She caught glimpses of calming artwork on pastel walls as they dashed down corridors lined with handrails. “Is this a hospital?”

“Private psych facility. But it’s the only place in a fifty-mile area, and I knew they had to have some medical supplies.”

“Did they take care of him?”

He didn’t look at her. “They bandaged it.” He skidded to a halt outside a room. “He’s in there.”

Quinn abandoned her questions and pushed through the wide door, closing her eyes in gratitude as soon as she saw Nick, awake, lying on a hospital bed.

“Hey.” It came out of his throat as a croak, and her worries flooded over the relief. He was in bad shape.

“Hey, yourself.” She looked him over. He wore his own clothes rather than a hospital gown. The left leg of his jeans had been cut and torn up the seam, exposing a bandage-wrapped calf. Sweat stained the neck and armpits of his T-shirt, and his face shone with it. As Quinn stepped nearer, she saw wildness in his red-rimmed eyes.

Sam caught her arm before she got too close. “Don’t touch him.”

“What’s going on? What happened?” She looked back at Nick, who swallowed and tried to talk. Sam spoke over him.

“I found him at the edge of Marley’s property, about a quarter mile from the inn. He was hiding in a ditch—”

Nick made an angry noise.

“—doing surveillance. He had a scope trained on a window of the inn and wasn’t moving. When I approached him, he flipped out for a minute.” Sam looked down, as if giving Nick a chance to protest his phraseology. “When he calmed down, he figured out he’d been looking at that same empty window for hours. A lot of hours,” he added. “Part of the reason he didn’t take our calls. We decided to go closer—”

“You decided to go closer?” Quinn protested. “He’s obviously in a trance or compulsion of some kind, and you go closer?”

Sam grimaced. “Yeah, well, I think compulsion is the right word. When we got about a hundred yards onto the property, he got shot in the leg.”

“And then?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. We couldn’t see anyone, and it’s not a bad wound, but the bullet’s inside and he was bleeding more than enough to need treatment. I found the nearest facility and brought him here.” Despair came down over his face. “Quinn, there’s something majorly wrong.”

She barely registered his words. “Why didn’t you call the police?” she demanded.

Sam thrust his hand through his hair. “You know the kinds of questions they’d ask. Might detain him or both of us. He wouldn’t let me do it.”

“I’m fine,” Nick croaked. “Just need to rest a little.”

“He’s not. No one can touch him. When someone tries—”

Nick waved his hand toward a pitcher on the rolling table next to Quinn.

“He needs water.” She grabbed the pitcher and held the straw toward Nick’s mouth.

“Quinn, don’t!”

She stopped, but Nick lurched forward and caught the straw in his mouth. He sucked hard on the water, his hand on hers where she held the pitcher, but his face turned red and pain filled his eyes. He drank fast, then fell back on the pillow, gasping.

“What the—” Sam moved closer to the other side of the bed, looking back and forth between them in bewilderment. “Why didn’t—”

“She’s a goddess, Sam,” Nick rasped out. “Get the doctor.”

“But—”

“Get the doctor.” He reached for Sam’s arm. Sam lurched back, but Nick’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. Both men screamed in pain. Sam dropped to his knees on the worn tiles, his fingers scrabbling at Nick’s hand. Nick writhed on the bed, arching, the tendons in his neck bulging.

Quinn ran around the bed and caught Sam as he collapsed onto his side, breaking Nick’s grip. Both men panted. Quinn, torn between them, didn’t know whom to help first. Nick lay on the bed, his eyes closed, chest heaving, but he didn’t look like he was still in pain. She supported Sam as he sat up. He touched his wrist, wincing, but it looked normal.

“What the hell was that?” she asked.

“We don’t know.” Sam’s voice was weak. “Every time someone touches him, he screams. That’s why they couldn’t get the bullet out.”

“Sorry,” Nick managed to mumble. “Not thinking.”

“The bullet is still in there?” Quinn left Sam’s side and went back around the bed. Careful not to touch Nick’s skin, she unwrapped the gauze from his calf.

The wound was ugly. It oozed dark blood and had purple edges. Worse, lines of purple extended from it, reminiscent of blood poisoning.

“We’ve got to get that bullet out. Sam, get the doctor.”

“But—”

“Get him!”

“Quinn, he’s a psychiatrist.”

She turned to look up at him. “He’s the only doctor here?”

“It’s a small facility. He couldn’t reach anyone to come in. I don’t think he has the stomach for this.”

Resolve took over. “Then we’ll have to do it. Get him. We need supplies.” For the moment, she’d forget the facility was required to report the gunshot wound. They’d deal with that later. All that mattered right now was that Nick was in pain, possibly dying, and they had no other options.

Sam didn’t leave, but he didn’t say anything, either. He was looking at Nick with compassion and regret, and Quinn assumed he didn’t want to cause him more pain. Or maybe…

“Sam, when he touched you, you screamed, too.”

He wrenched his gaze back to her. “Yeah, it’s a shared thing. Like he’s projecting what he’s feeling. It’s okay—if I wear gloves, it should block it. For me. That won’t help him.”

“God.” She shoved her hair back and drew a long breath. “Okay. I’ll take care of the pain. You extract the slug. Get the doctor and everything you’ll need to do this.”

Sam nodded and left. Quinn moved up to kneel next to the bed at Nick’s side, masking her fear. This was beyond anything she’d ever done before, and she didn’t understand what was causing it. “You okay?”

He looked exhausted, his eyes sunken and bruised, his lips white at the edges. But he nodded a little.

“What do you see when someone touches you?”

“Their demons,” he whispered. “The doc was the worst. He’s dealt with some serious shit in here. It fades after the contact breaks, so I can’t tell you what I saw, but the pain is worse than anything I’ve ever felt. And Sam.” He opened his eyes and licked his lips. “It’s all about you.”

She winced. “You didn’t scream when I touched you. But it hurt.”

“Some. No demons, though.”

Quinn didn’t know why that would be, but maybe, as he’d said, being a goddess offered some protection. She had demons, of course, and if Nick could see them, he’d know they were mostly about him. She tried to smile reassuringly. “We’ll take care of you.”

Nick’s eyes closed. “I know you will.”

Sam returned, followed by a tall, thin man with equally thin hair pushing a steel cart laden with instruments and supplies. Sam pulled a plastic chair to the foot of the bed and positioned the cart.

“Ready?” he asked. Quinn nodded.

Nick managed a weak grin. “Go for it.”

Sam pulled on a pair of latex gloves and stripped a set of forceps out of their sterile wrap. He nodded at Quinn, who sat on the edge of the bed and braced Nick’s head between her hands. He kept his green eyes locked on hers, and she opened herself to the power of the moon, letting the cool surge of energy snap into place. She didn’t know how much she could draw. The moon wasn’t very high yet, and there were still two days before she reached full power.

The physical limits on her ability to draw and use what could be unlimited power had never bothered her before. Humanity was about strength and weakness, and goddesshood was another level of that. But now, for the first time, it affected someone she cared about.

And it sucked.

Quinn didn’t watch Sam but knew when he first touched Nick, who hissed through his teeth and grabbed her wrist as if fighting to keep still. His eyes skittered sideways.

“Keep looking at me, Nick.” She reached into Nick, to feel what he felt, so she could interfere with the effect of Sam’s touch. Her power wasn’t strong enough to block it completely—she had to take some of the pain into herself. The sharpness made her gasp and she stopped as soon as Nick settled and locked his gaze back on hers. Taking in too much could make her lose contact with Nick, and the explosion of physical and psychological pain could kill him.

“I can feel the bullet,” Sam said. “It’s deep.”

Quinn ignored him and focused intently on Nick’s eyes, trying to draw all his attention so he wasn’t aware of what was happening at the foot of the bed.

His body jerked. “Son of a bitch,” he gritted out. His fingers tightened on her wrist, but he didn’t look away from her again.

“That’s it, Nick. Stay with me. It won’t take long.” She pressed her hands tighter, holding on.

“Nng. Naaarrrgh!” He strangled the yell, but the pain increased. Quinn let more of it in. Shards of glass tumbled through her bloodstream, but Nick screamed and she opened up even more. Her eyes watered with the effort of keeping contact, but Nick relaxed a tiny bit and his breathing became more gasp, less hiss.

Quinn tried to relax her body, to distance herself from the pain. She gritted her teeth to avoid screaming as Nick’s grip tightened again and the shards sliced deeper into her. Sam cursed behind her. Nick’s body bowed. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t see anything beyond the torment in his eyes, or feel anything but the agony spinning between them.

“I’ve got it.”

There was a clink behind her, and Nick went limp. Quinn gulped in air as the glass seemed to melt and slide out of her body.

“I need to rinse it with saline, put some ointment on it, and re-bandage it. I’m not going to try to stitch it or anything. Infection risk, besides keeping him in pain.”

“Appreciate that,” Nick managed to say. His hand slipped off of Quinn’s wrist, but she didn’t release him. She held on while Sam quickly medicated and bandaged the wound. Her fingers cramped and her back spasmed. Nick groaned a few times, but the worst of his agony had passed. When Sam declared himself done, Nick sank deeper into the pillow and patted Quinn’s hand.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his eyes boring into hers even more intensely than they had during the procedure. Then they closed, and he fell asleep.

And Quinn allowed herself to collapse.

…



“What the hell was it?”

A short while later Sam and Quinn huddled over the cart in the corner of Nick’s room while he slept. Sam had gathered her off the floor and deposited her in a chair, then rushed out to find her a bottle of juice. She’d recovered enough within a few minutes that she could focus on what the hell was going on.

She held the bullet with the forceps Sam had used to retrieve it and studied it with both her senses and her power.

“It’s been treated,” she said.

“With what? And why?”

“Hard to say without knowing who did it, but there are some goddesses who combine their powers with other disciplines. Like healers who use herbs and homeopathic remedies and infuse them with power to enhance their properties.”

“Or the opposite?”

She frowned. “So it would seem. This is strange, though. It’s like a hallucinogenic, but it caused him pain and insight, not hallucinations.” That rang a bell, but before she could figure out why, the tall psychiatrist returned with a baggie Sam had asked for, to contain the bullet he’d extracted.

“I’m sorry, but we are not equipped for this kind of thing,” the doctor said with a nervous glance at Nick. “I must insist you move him to a proper facility. One that has the experience to…handle all the…requirements.”

“We’ll pay you for the room and supplies,” Sam assured him. “And we’ll leave in the morning. He needs rest now.”

The doctor pursed his lips but nodded shortly. “If you’re finished with this?” He backed out of the room, pulling the cart.

“He’s got to call the police,” Quinn said in a low voice, watching the door. “It’s the law.”

“Don’t worry.” Sam dragged over the vinyl chair he’d used and pressed Quinn’s shoulder until she sat. He bent close to her ear. “I convinced him we’ll move Nick to a regular hospital tomorrow, and they can handle the report. He’s not made for this. He was eager to take that reprieve.”

“Good.” She stared at the plastic-encased bullet in her hand, her vision going lax from fatigue and post-adrenaline comedown, as well as from the use of power.

“Tell me again where you were.” She forced her heavy eyelids open. She had to stay strong so they could figure this out.

“The inn is on a hill surrounded by open land. It’s clear-cut at the back and carved with walkways and gardens and stuff. It’s one of her draws, I guess. Peace, serenity…”

“Getting shot.”

“It might not have had anything to do with her.”

“Or with Nick specifically? Like they’d do this to just anyone who was there?”

Sam didn’t answer, but she’d been speaking rhetorically. There was no way this didn’t have anything to do with Marley or that Nick wasn’t a deliberate target. Blame tried to settle on her shoulders. Nick wouldn’t have been hurt if he hadn’t come up here, if she hadn’t been so insistent on this path.

But that was stupid. The only person responsible for this was the person who’d done it. They could run and hide, but that would only delay the inevitable. They had to keep going and stop the enemy before they harmed anyone else.

She held up the bullet, finally understanding the hallucinogeniclike properties. “Do you know who does things like this?”

“Who?”

“Jennifer Hollinger.”

Sam scowled. “Like this? To hurt people?”

“No.” She set the bag on the flat arm of the chair and let her head drop against the back. “She infuses objects. Fun stuff for souvenirs—infusing light or kinetic energy or the essence of certain compounds. There were rumors she did it for legal highs, too.”

“But she’s been leeched.”

“Exactly.”

Understanding dawned. “You think the leech did this.”

“Or someone working with the leech.” She didn’t need to spell it out. The heaviness in her voice was obvious.

“Quinn.”

“See if you can find another chair. We need a little sleep before tomorrow.” She dragged herself to her feet and pulled the chair to the side of Nick’s bed before collapsing into it.

She was asleep before Sam returned.

…



Quinn woke with degrees of awareness. First was the dishearteningly familiar churn of need. The moon lust usually took half the full moon period to manifest, but because she’d ignored it for so long, it surged much earlier.

Luckily, the crick in her neck and tingling up and down her left side were stronger discomforts. Sunlight poured through the window, making her blink. She realized the tingling was from the vibration of her cell phone, which wasn’t also ringing. She must have hit the button to silence it at some point in her frantic scramble to get here. That explained why she hadn’t heard it when Sam called last night. She tugged the phone out of her pants pocket and checked the display. The number wasn’t familiar.

“Hello?”

“How’s your boy?”

She sat up. The voice was disguised, neither male nor female, but whatever device the caller used to distort it didn’t filter out the glee. Hatred made her voice shake when she answered.

“What boy?”

“Don’t play coy. The legendary Nick Jarrett, taken down with a little of the magic he protects.”

“It’s not magic.”

“Of course it is. Magic is just another word for things science can’t explain.”

“Who are you?”

“I think you call me ‘the leech.’ I’d capitalize it, though.”

“Why disguise your voice? Do I know you?”

“No. You don’t know me. But you will, and I don’t want you to see me coming. Ta for now.”

Her phone beeped the call summary, but she didn’t look at it. It had been thirty-four seconds. Not enough time to trace the call, either electronically or with power. And dammit, she hadn’t even thought of it.

And there wouldn’t be a next time. He wanted to play games but wouldn’t be stupid enough to repeat himself. She squeezed the phone in her hand, her jaw clenched, until the urge to roar her anger subsided.

“Who was that?” Sam unfolded himself from the chair he’d scrunched into on the far side of the bed and rubbed his eyes. Nick slept on between them, much more peaceful and rested than a few hours ago. The sunken look was gone, his color normal.

“The leech,” she said, not taking her eyes off Nick. His chest rose and fell with a slow, natural rhythm. Watching it calmed her, and she unclenched her muscles, one by one.

Sam, on the other hand, lurched to his feet. “What?”

“The leech. Apparently Nick was right. He’ll be coming after me.” She told him about the conversation. “He’s responsible for Nick’s leg.”

Before Sam could launch into the outburst that had built while she talked, the doctor appeared at the doorway. “It’s time to check out,” he said dourly. “If one of you would like to settle the charges?”

“I’ll do it.” Sam followed him.

So Nick had been right all along. She might not be the leech’s endgame, but he was coming for her, and he was smart. He knew she wouldn’t be as easy as the others had been, so he was targeting the people around her first. Trying to get them out of the way or to unbalance her, make her vulnerable emotionally? Maybe both. His motives didn’t really matter. Now there was no doubt this was personal. So, okay. He’d learn what a mistake that was.

Quinn sat forward and touched her fingertips to the back of Nick’s hand. He didn’t move. Relieved, she stroked his fingers, then up his wrist and forearm to his elbow. Still no writhing or screaming. He rolled his head the other way but slept on.

“Nick.” She pressed her thumb into the spot inside his elbow. “Wake up, hon.”

He smiled. “I like the way you say that.” His voice was sleep-rough, but not the croak it had been the night before. Rolling his head back toward her, he opened his eyes and twisted his arm to wrap his fingers around hers. “Not a bad sight to wake up to, either.”

Quinn couldn’t help it; she laughed, shoving her hair back with her free hand. Her relief that he was okay made her momentarily giddy. “I’m a mess.”

“The gold light makes your skin glow. Your eyes, too. You’re beautiful.” His brows furrowed, as if he were remembering what had happened. He looked around at the hospital room, then lifted his left leg a little and flinched. “Ow.”

“I’d better look at that before we leave.” Quinn released his hand and moved to the end of the bed. She carefully peeled up the bandage. The flesh beneath was pink now and not bleeding. She smiled. “Much better.” The wound was still severe, but she didn’t want to try to heal it yet. She’d used so much power, she wasn’t sure how much she could draw on right now, and the leech could attack at any time.

“If you say so.” Nick frowned. “Man, he shredded my favorite jeans.”

“You can thank him later. Can you get up? They’re kicking us out.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He swung his legs around, started to push himself off the bed, and sank back down, raising his eyebrows and squeezing his eyes shut. “Okay, small problem.”

“Here.” Quinn reached for the pitcher. “Drink some water. I’ll go see if I can find a vending machine, get you something to eat. Your blood sugar must be low.”

Nick caught her hand as she rose. “Hey.” He tugged, and she sat back down. “Thank you for what you did last night.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“Yeah, I do. This is a pretty severe role reversal. It wasn’t your job to come get me, and it put you at risk.”

Quinn felt her face go stony. “It had nothing to do with a professional relationship. You’re my friend. At some point, my own well-being has to stop being more important than anyone else’s.”

Nick held her gaze for a moment, then let her go. She stood, hesitated, and decided they’d said enough. He needed food, not a debate.

By the time she got back with a pack of peanut butter crackers and a bottle of apple juice, Sam had returned. He had Nick on his feet with his arm slung over Sam’s shoulder, but they hadn’t moved far from the bed.

“Are you having trouble walking on it?” She moved to Nick’s other side and slid under his shoulder. His long, lean, hard body aligned with hers stoked her lust to a simmer.

“Nah. It’s the dizziness thing. Dr. Scary was in here, though, looking like he was going to shoot me again if I didn’t get my sorry carcass out of his bed.”

They wobbled out of the room and down the hall to the rear entrance. Once outside, Quinn and Sam lowered Nick to a bench next to the door. As soon as she wasn’t touching him, the simmer subsided but didn’t go away completely.

Quinn swallowed hard and stepped back a few feet. “I’ll get Chloe’s car. We’ll drive to the Charger. Sam, where’s the rental?”

“Back on the road near Marley’s inn.”

“Can you call the rental company to come get it? We’re not going to be able to take it with us.”

“I can drive,” Nick said. But he was blinking funny again, a lot like Sam had after his accident.

“No way,” Quinn said.

“Fine, but you’re not driving the Charger.”

“Neither are you. Not until your head clears.”

“Sam can do it.”

Quinn snorted. “Obviously, you’re out of your head.” Both men gave her pained looks. “All right, fine. I’ll be right back.”

She brought Chloe’s car to the sidewalk, then drove them to the Charger on the side of the dirt track.

“Why is this road so dubious?” she asked.

“It’s not the main way,” Sam explained. “Just the fastest.”

“How did you know that?”

His mouth quirked. “Google satellite maps.”

She shook her head. “You’re such a geek.” But thank god for that.

“Thank you.” He opened his door to get out. “What’s the next step?”

“There’s a truck stop about ten miles down the highway,” Quinn said. “I think Nick probably wants a shower, after all that sweating last night.”

“Hell, yeah.”

“They’ll have medical supplies in the store. And we need food. We can plan over breakfast.”

“Sounds fan-freaking-tastic to me,” Nick said. He hadn’t moved. His eyes were closed, his head back against the headrest.

Sam hesitated. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

“Nope. Don’t crash her.”

Quinn caught Sam’s pleased smile before he stood and slammed his door.

Nick winced. “God, I feel hungover. All the crap without the fun.”

“You didn’t think that was fun? I’m crushed.” She put the car into gear as Sam started the Charger with a roar and rolled down the wagon tracks.

Nick didn’t open his eyes, but his voice went husky. “When we have fun together, Quinn, there won’t be any hangover the next day.”

…



Two days ago, Quinn might have confronted Nick after a statement like that. But she didn’t dare risk it now. She’d been attracted to Nick forever but had never been with him when she was under the influence of the moon. She was very afraid the combined moon lust and natural desire for him would make her do something stupid. So she kept her eyes on the road, her hands on the steering wheel, and her mouth clamped shut for the next fifteen minutes.

The truck stop’s multitude of tiny stores was mall-like, albeit not the kind Quinn usually shopped in. She managed to get a change of clothes for herself, since she’d left their things behind at Chloe’s, and the supplies to redress Nick’s wound after he showered. She hated leaving him in pain, but with the leech primed to attack any time, she had to be ready. It was a convenient excuse to keep her from using more power and increasing her cravings for him.

Quinn expected arguments from both guys about splitting up to take showers and change clothes, but Nick posted Sam on watch as she went into the women’s locker room. When she emerged they’d switched places, and Nick stood outside, his weight on his right leg. His hair was damp and spiky and he hadn’t shaved, but in a clean, soft-looking T-shirt and jeans, he looked delicious. When Quinn stopped next to him, she got a whiff of musky soap and barely stopped herself from leaning in to sniff his neck.

“Where’s Sam?” she asked. “Already in the restaurant?”

“Hell, no. He’s doing something with his hair. He’s such a girl.”

“Let’s go sit down.” She took Nick’s elbow and started toward the diner side of the truck stop. “He’ll find us.” He wouldn’t admit it, but she could tell even standing in one place took its toll on him. And she needed a table between them and lots more people around.

They got a booth and she told him about the leech calling while he was asleep, playing it down as he got more and more pissed the longer she talked. Sam joined them a few minutes later, sliding in next to Quinn. Her body sizzled, and she slid away as subtly as possible.

“I told you all along it was you.” Nick’s hand was in a fist on the table. “We’ll go back to Benton Harbor.”

“The hell we will!” Quinn leaned forward and worked to keep her voice down. “It’s too late for that. All this time we’ve been operating under assumptions and running around blind, trying to ferret out information. Now we have something concrete. We’re not backing off now. Especially,” she ground out as the waitress approached, “when it’s obvious my sister is involved and that Sam and I might be suspects.”

“What?” the guys said in unison, staring at her.

The waitress interrupted, so after they’d ordered enough food to fuel them for a week, Quinn brought them up to speed on the conversations they’d missed. “I don’t know that anyone actually thinks Sam is the leech, but it connects, doesn’t it? With the questions the security team asked Chloe? Maybe they’ve suspected me all along, and the family ties thing was to keep me in the dark.”

“But why?” Sam was incredulous. “There’s no evidence, and I’m always at the bar. People can confirm that.”

But Nick shrugged. “Not sure they could convincingly. And you two have always been beyond close. A lot of people wouldn’t be surprised that you’d taken that step.” He motioned to get more coffee.

“But Tanda and Chloe know me,” Sam protested. “They know I’m not the leech.”

Quinn heaved a sigh. “They’d argue that you concealed your identity or affected their memories or something. And we’ve been on the road since this started, so it looks like we’re on the run.”

“Except you went to the Society offices and to talk to Alana,” Sam said.

“Maybe they didn’t suspect me until after that. Or they didn’t have enough to arrest me or something. I don’t know!” Frustrated, she fell back against the booth while the waitress flirted with Nick over the coffeepot. By the time the woman sashayed off, Quinn had managed to calm down enough to redirect the conversation to something more productive. “That’s all speculation and out of our control. Tell us everything you learned before you got shot.”

Nick shifted to stretch his leg and leaned over the Formica-and-chrome table. “The inn looks like it does good business. There were a lot of cars out front, couples walking around in the back.” He sipped his fresh coffee. “Everyone looked normal to me, not like the misfits Ned said she collects.”

“Maybe they don’t mingle with the regular guests,” Sam suggested.

“That’s what I thought. There’s a compound on the other side of the property from where you found me. A few small cottages, a stable, a shed, and a larger building. No one was around there, but it might be where her friends collect.”

“Did you get inside?” Sam asked.

Nick shook his head. “Didn’t want to risk it. And I was trying to get a handle on Marley.”

“Did you find her?” Quinn asked.

“No.” He looked disgruntled. “My plan was to scope the place—literally—and then go in like a customer, you know, looking for a room. But I thought I saw something in a window. Next thing I know, Sam’s breaking the spell, and I realize I’ve been staring at nothing for hours.”

“I looked through the scope and there was nothing in the window,” Sam said. “Not in any of the windows. I couldn’t even see into the rooms.”

The waitress appeared with a huge tray and set down their plates. Scrambled eggs, sausage, home fries, and toast for Nick. A western omelet and bacon for Sam. A raisin bagel and fresh fruit for Quinn, who gave in to temptation and swiped a piece of Sam’s bacon. The waitress poured more coffee all around again, then left them alone.

“So why did you start to go closer?”

Nick and Sam exchanged a look. Then Sam said, “It was like being pulled.”

“Or pushed,” Nick said.

“We just got up and started walking across the lawn.”

“What did you think you were going to do?”

They both shrugged and forked egg into their mouths.

Quinn sighed. “Yeah, that was helpful.” She stabbed a strawberry, stared at it, and dropped her fork. “It makes no sense. None of the leeched goddesses have mind control power. It doesn’t exist.”

“Maybe the woman in South Carolina had something.” Nick shoved a huge bite of sausage in his mouth.

“No, she couldn’t have.” Sam poked his fork at a chunk of pepper. “It was probably a form of telekinesis, moving our bodies rather than controlling our minds.”

“So it could have been Marley, or the leech, which we already knew.” Nick looked disgusted.

Talking was getting them nowhere. Quinn forced herself to eat the strawberry. Her appetite had disappeared, but she needed the fuel. “I’m going to call Marley and arrange a meeting.”

Neither of the men offered an opinion on that, so she dug out her cell phone. She’d added Marley’s number, listed in the Society directory, to her phone book when they were still in Michigan. She called it up and hit send. After four rings, a machine came on with a message stating she’d reached the Athena Inn.

“That’s subtle,” she muttered while she waited for the beep. “My name is Quinn Caldwell. I’d like to talk to someone about a room.” She left her number and hung up.

“I called six times yesterday,” Nick said. “Never got a person, and no one called me back.”

“But you saw people walking around? Like, guests?”

“A few, yeah.”

“Weird.”

Sam chewed his last bite of omelet and picked up the check. “I’m going to pay. I got it,” he said, waving away the money Quinn pulled out of her wallet. As soon as he slid out of the booth, she could breathe easier.

Nick concentrated on mopping up yolk with his last piece of toast.

“How’s your leg?” She watched the tendons flex in his hand and wrist, her eyes traveling up his forearm, her palms itching to touch. “Did Sam help you redress it?”

“I did it. It’s fine. Hurts like a son of a bitch, but it looks good.”

“I can heal it now.”

“Later.” He swallowed and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “You’re wiped out.”

If he only knew. “I want to go to the inn and try to find Marley. I need to see her face to face.” She hesitated, knowing it was fruitless, but she had to try. “I think I should go without you and Sam.”

“No way.”

“You’ll be safer away from whoever’s responsible for this,” she argued, motioning to his leg. And away from me.

Nick smirked with no humor. “I think we know who’s responsible.”

Defending someone who might be related to her, share her blood, came automatically, even though she agreed with him. “We don’t know—”

“It was on her land!”

“I know.” She stuck her elbow on the table and rested her head on her palm, weary of it all. “She’s my sister, Nick. I—”

“But she’s not your family.” He stabbed his toast at her then leaned over his plate, his voice going lower and more intense. “You don’t know her or what she’s capable of. And if you’re going to take her side over me—” He stopped, leaning back abruptly, and flung his toast to the plate. “I’ve lost my appetite.” He shoved out of the booth and stood. “I’ll meet you outside.”

Quinn sat, miserable, wishing he’d let her explain but thinking it might be better to let him stay angry.

She didn’t trust her sister over her friends, for god’s sake. She didn’t want them hurt, she was pissed that they already had been, and she was afraid they were more vulnerable targets than she was. Any hope that Marley was innocent or that Quinn could have a real relationship with her family had been lost when Nick took that bullet. Being protected was well and good when all it meant was that no one harmed her. Letting others get hurt instead, or worse, was simply unacceptable.

Sam returned to the table as Nick swung out the door. “What was that all about?”

Quinn watched sadly after Nick. “Complication.”

“What’d you do, say you were going to see Marley without us?”

She didn’t respond.

“That’s really what you said? What, are you stupid?”

Quinn shoved at him. “Get up.”

“Quinn…”

“I’m not stupid, and contrary to what Nick believes, I’m not oblivious to the probability that my sister is responsible for his bullet wound or that she’s got something to do with the leech or that she’s dangerous to me. But I cannot keep circling around this and letting the people I care about get hurt. So move.” She shoved him again and he slid out of the booth, wisely keeping silent as she stormed out to the parking lot.

Nick leaned against the Charger, parked three spaces from Chloe’s Prius. Quinn stopped in front of him, the renewed flare of desire infuriating her.

“Let me heal your leg.”

“No way.”

“You were limping.”

“So what? You’re too drained. You pull that kind of power while the moon’s on the other side of the planet, you’ll kill yourself.”

She snorted. “Hardly.”

“You’re not doing it.” He looked past her and a satisfied smirk shaped his mouth. “You don’t even want to try it.”

Quinn turned. Sam stalked toward them, his expression thunderous. For a moment, she felt a hundred years old and ready to drop everything and go back to Ohio. But that wouldn’t help any of them. Nor would another six hours of planning. She needed to act.

“Fine. I’ll do it later.” She spun away and strode to the car, got in, and took off before Nick could realize what she intended and stop her.

She knew she had no chance to outrun him, so she didn’t try. She keyed the address for the inn into the GPS and followed the route. Her phone rang. She left it in her pocket. A few moments later the Charger appeared in her rearview mirror, Nick and Sam both glaring through the windshield.

So they were pissed. Good. She wanted enough of a head start that they wouldn’t stop her, and maybe she could gain enough advantage to protect them for a change.