Under the Moon (Goddesses Rising)

Chapter Twelve

Among goddesses, no ties are stronger than those of family. Mothers, grandmothers, and sisters help a new goddess develop and fine-tune her abilities and provide emotional support as she finds her place in our world. However, as is the case outside the goddess community, “family” is not always defined by blood.

—Society Annual Meeting, Special Session on Relationships

…



Soon she was on the wooded, winding road to the inn, the driveway a few hundred yards ahead. She searched the sides of the road, looking for an opportunity, but didn’t see it until she got to her turn. A drainage ditch had been dug into the far corner. She turned right past the one-way sign, whipping into the turn without warning. When Nick followed she reached for the moon’s energy, exhilarated by the clean, cold surge, and sent the Charger into the ditch with a thought. It was deep enough and wide enough to trap the front tires so he couldn’t get out.

The Prius sped past white pines lining the long, narrow driveway, halting with a little screech in front of the large white colonial house. Black shutters glistened in the sun, and a few hardy fall flowers bloomed in the beds on either side of the wide porch steps. Rocking chairs sat invitingly in front of sparkling windows covered in sheer white curtains, and a grapevine wreath adorned the front door. All very picturesque and not telegraphing “evil lives here” in any way.

Mindful that Nick and Sam would be close behind her, Quinn got out of the car, her eyes on the building. Chirping birds pierced the serenity as she climbed the steps and approached the front door.

As she reached for the handle of the screen, the inner door opened and a woman, laughing at the man behind her rather than looking where she was going, swung the outer door at Quinn’s face. She stepped back just in time.

The woman gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking.” She tilted her head. “Are you a new guest?”

“I hope to be. I’m looking for Marley Canton.”

The woman clucked her tongue. “I’m afraid the inn is booked for the next several weeks. I know, because we were so lucky to get this week when a couple canceled. Called off the wedding, poor things. Anyway, Marley’s in the kitchen. Fran at the counter can tell you when they can book you. Toodles!”

She and the man trotted down the steps to an SUV parked in a small, needle-strewn lot to the left. Quinn stepped into the warm lobby and glanced around. The square foyer was empty of both Fran and all furniture except a tall counter to the right of the central hallway. On the left, a staircase stretched upward, the carved banister gleaming as much as the polished floor, the dark wood contrasting with the bright white of the walls and check-in counter. The shivery feeling inside Quinn could be anticipation or apprehension, but it came from her, not from the environment. The foreboding she’d had before Nick left to come up here was absent. Still, she remained alert, prepared for anything.

The bell on the counter dinged when she tapped it, but it didn’t bring footsteps or voices. It would be rude to walk into the back, Quinn told herself, but did it anyway. She saw no one in the hall, nor in the spacious dining room she passed. Pots and pans clanked deeper into the building. Quinn followed the sound of running water to the very back of the house.

The kitchen door was open to the backyard, the room sunny and bright and clean except for the makings of bread dough scattered across several counters. A young woman stood at the center counter, digging her hands deep into the dough she kneaded. Quinn registered dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, the exact color of her own, and a wide face with high cheekbones and pointed chin that reminded her of Tess. She didn’t move, waiting for a sense of…something. Family. Connection. Recognition. There was nothing. Then her sister looked up and froze, surprise and pleasure spreading over her face.

“Quinn!”

“Marley.” It didn’t shock her that Marley knew who she was—not as much as it did to see her pale lavender eyes. They couldn’t be normal. Uncertainty drained her determination, and she began to hope again. Maybe Marley wasn’t the threat after all. Maybe she was just another victim.

“How did you get in here?”

Reminding herself to assume nothing, Quinn said, “It wasn’t hard.”

“But the front door is—”

“A couple was coming out. They let me in. Said Fran would be at the front desk, but there wasn’t anyone around.”

Marley pursed her lips and shook her head. “Fran’s in the laundry room.” She manipulated the dough into a mound, dropped it into a bowl, and draped a towel over it. “Let me get cleaned up and we’ll go in the other room.” She turned to the sink to wash her hands. “Not exactly the—”

BwoooOOP. BwoooOOP. BwoooOOP.

Marley cursed over the loud alarm and quickly dried off her hands.

“What’s that?” Quinn shouted.

Marley waved a hand toward one wall and the alarm stopped. Quinn saw a speaker up near the ceiling, then noticed the windowsills, backsplashes, and shelves high on the wall were all lined with different kinds of crystals. Marley’s power source, and she’d just used it. So her eyes weren’t the result of leeching. Quinn felt her expression twist with disgust, her hope short-lived. Marley had both light eyes and power, so the only possibility remaining was that she had created the leech.

“Someone’s trying to get in.” Marley squeezed past her and rushed down the hall toward the front door.

“They’re probably with me!” Quinn hurried to follow, not wanting Marley to attack her friends. When she burst into the foyer lobby, two men held guns on Sam and Nick, who stood with their hands raised, looking disheveled and disgruntled. When they saw Quinn, Sam sagged in obvious relief while Nick tensed, his eyes flashing and his jaw tight.

“They are with me,” Quinn said, stepping up next to Marley. “Call off your goons.”

“They’re not goons.”

But neither were they typical security. The guy on the left, standing in the doorway of what appeared to be an old-fashioned parlor, had long, stringy hair and wore dirty jeans and a Metallica T-shirt. The older one on the right was beefier and held his rifle with more authority, but he looked farm-hardened rather than street-tough.

No one moved. Exasperated, Quinn stepped forward and introduced Nick and Sam. Then she pointed to Marley. “Marley Canton, my sister.”

The two armed men lowered their weapons halfway, surprise overtaking grim determination on their features.

Marley smiled slightly. “Bobby and Tim, two of my staff. You’ll meet Fran in a little while. She’s my assistant manager.” She motioned to Nick’s leg. “You’re bleeding.”

Quinn whirled and bent to check. Blood had seeped through the denim, which meant he’d torn open any slight healing he’d had overnight. She moved quickly to tuck herself under his arm. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, wishing she’d healed him earlier. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry and taken off.” She’d known he would come after her, but she hadn’t thought about the impact on his injury.

Now that his adrenaline was wearing off, Nick looked pale and pinched with pain. “We need to work on our communication skills,” he said.

Quinn helped him down the hall to the kitchen and noticed he barely put weight on his injured leg. He had to be hurting.

“Sam, do you mind getting the medical supplies from the car?”

“I have everything you’ll need,” Marley said. She nodded to Tim and Bobby. “We’re good, guys. I’ll call you if I need you.”

They nodded and disappeared in opposite directions.

Sam trailed behind as Quinn and Nick followed Marley back to the kitchen. Quinn settled Nick at a large, heavy log table and sat in a matching chair, propping his leg on her lap. The moon lust had abated since she’d run from the truck stop, but heat seeped into her where his leg rested.

Marley brought over a first-aid kit, bowl of water, and scissors, then joined them at the table. Sam prowled the kitchen, not touching anything and being so unobtrusive that Marley didn’t even flick him a glance.

“What happened to him?” Marley asked.

“I was shot by one of your thugs,” Nick accused. He jerked his leg when Quinn removed the red-soaked bandage and a few of his leg hairs with it. “Ouch.”

“Sorry. We don’t know who shot him,” Quinn corrected. She dampened a piece of gauze and mopped around the wound. “But it happened yesterday on your property.”

“What was he doing on my property?” Marley’s tone held more than a note of defensiveness.

“You tell me!” Nick didn’t exactly yell, but he didn’t moderate his voice, either. “I didn’t intend to be there.”

“Where?”

“Out back. Past the labyrinth.”

Marley’s brows knit together. “I don’t have anyone out there with a gun.”

“Sure. As evidenced by the quick response of the ones inside the house.”

“I mean it. I’ve had guests. I’m not going to have amateurs with rifles roaming around in the common areas.”

“Why do you have amateurs with rifles at all?”

Marley didn’t answer right away. Quinn pressed a clean gauze pad coated with antibacterial ointment against the wound. Nick hissed and his hand jerked toward hers as if to pull it away, but he stopped himself.

“Damn, that hurts.”

“Sorry.” She raised her eyebrows at him, silently offering, once again, to heal the wound. He shook his head, but she couldn’t let him go on hurting. It was her fault the wound had reopened. She closed her eyes and covered his calf with her hand, drawing on the limited pool of energy available to her, and focused on filling in the tissues, sealing blood vessels. His muscles relaxed, and she checked the hole. It looked as if it had happened weeks ago instead of yesterday, but it wasn’t healed completely.

She took a deep breath but before she could try again, Nick folded his hand around hers. “Thanks.” His look said that’s enough, and Quinn was weak enough now to obey. She taped fresh gauze over the area to keep it clean and rested her hand on Nick’s shin before turning her attention to her sister. “Well?”

Marley nibbled on her lower lip. “It’s a long story.”

“We’re here for a long story,” Sam said from behind Quinn. “You can start at the beginning. Like how long you’ve known about your sister.”

Marley nodded. “I guess that’s as good a place as any to start. I’ve known since I was ten.”

Quinn absorbed the shock of that. So long, and Marley had never contacted her? She would have been about seventeen, a senior in high school. She’d decided by then that she didn’t care about her “other” family and was focused on the future, but that would have changed in an instant if she’d learned she had a little sister.

“How did you find out?”

“I heard Mom and Dad talking. Nothing major. Dad said something about ‘the baby,’ and whatever else he said—I don’t actually remember—made it clear he wasn’t talking about me. I was nosy and went digging. I found a copy of your birth certificate and adoption papers in the safe in the back of their closet.”

“Pretty good for a ten-year-old,” Nick said. Quinn considered ripping off a few more hairs. Then she saw his face and she realized he wasn’t impressed, but encouraging the conversation.

“Did you confront them?” Quinn didn’t like the idea that Tess had lied to her. None of them could change the past, but how they acted now would affect any potential future relationships.

“Nope. My curiosity was satisfied. You were a lot older, and I figured you wouldn’t be interested in me. Then a couple of years later Mom taught me more about the goddess thing, and that was a lot more interesting than a long-lost sister who couldn’t be bothered to find out I exist.”

Quinn suppressed a smile. “I never had a clue until about two weeks ago.”

Hurt passed over Marley’s face. “And you’re just now finding me?”

“You knew, and you never came to find me! There’s also the matter of a ‘family ties’ issue with the board of the Society.”

Hurt turned to guilt. Marley was either terrible at hiding her emotions or wasn’t trying. “Okay. We’ll get to that. If you want this in order.” She glanced up at Sam, who nodded.

“When I turned twenty-one I joined the Society. I didn’t know if you were a goddess, but that was the first thing I checked when I got my directory. And there you were. Not only a goddess, but already a prominent member of an organization our mother wanted nothing to do with.”

“Why not?” Tess hadn’t seemed like the kind of person to remove herself from the structure and support of the Society.

“That’s another long story.”

“Marley, this is important. Tell me why Tess isn’t part of the Society.”

“She’s part of it, kind of. She maintains her membership and adheres to its tenets. But she hates those women and isn’t friends with any other goddesses. I found out that when she first joined, someone learned she’d been a teen mother and gave you up for adoption. The elders were appalled that she would remove a potential goddess from their midst.”

“But I was adopted by a goddess.”

“They didn’t know that at the time.” Marley stood and walked to her bowl of dough. She checked it, then dumped it onto the floured butcher-block surface and began kneading again. “She wouldn’t talk about it at all. They treated her badly, so she removed herself from them.”

“What about you? Is that why you’re a rebel, too?”

She beat down the dough and folded it over. “The word fits me more than our mother. She conformed to Fairfield society so well, she could be a selectman’s wife. Might still, if Dad runs again next year. Anyway, no, that’s not why I retreated.” She put the dough back in the bowl and washed her hands, then resumed her story when she returned to the table.

“The only thing I wanted to do at my first quarterly meeting was find you. You were on some committee, and everyone was talking about your business, Under the Moon. Some people were horrified that you’d taken over your father’s bar. Others thought it was the perfect setup for your”—she made air quotes—“‘real’ job, using your powers as a goddess to help people.”

Quinn had heard the murmurs. She’d had the bar for three years by then, but as she honed her control and her power “grew,” for want of a better word, so had her business. Some people—like the goddess at the chapter meeting who’d made the snide remarks yesterday—hadn’t hidden their jealousy.

“Did we meet?” Quinn couldn’t remember if they had, but it wasn’t like she was keeping an eye out for someone who looked like her.

“No. I hung out with a few other neophytes. I told myself my peers were more important, and that you wouldn’t be interested in me and my fledgling, difficult powers. In reality, I was scared to try. So I did what I assume our parents did and put it off until it became too hard to even consider.”

A few weeks ago, hearing her sister’s story, Quinn would have lamented lost time and missed opportunities. Now, though, she dispassionately considered whether things would have been different if Marley had found the courage to contact her. If their relationship could have prevented any of this from happening.

“Why were your powers difficult?” she asked. Nick shifted his leg and winced. Quinn guessed he had some residual pain, even though he gave every appearance of being as interested in Marley’s story as she was. She dug in the first-aid kit and found a packet of painkillers. Tearing it open, she poured the tablets into Nick’s palm. He glanced down, then up at her with gratitude. Sam set a glass of water on the table next to him, and he murmured thanks and slapped the pills into his mouth.

Quinn realized Marley was watching them. Her smile was sad.

“You guys are quite a team.”

“Yeah.” Quinn didn’t want Marley getting any ideas about joining that team. “So, why were your powers difficult?”

“I had a hard time figuring out my source. Mom had some of everything in the house, and we tried it all. But if I had, say, a hunk of amethyst in the room and tried herbs, and it was strong, and then later I was outside and tried the herbs again, it would be weak. It took months to figure out the crystals. After that, it got easier. More fun, anyway.” She smiled and looked like the kid she would have been then, playing with her power. “What I focus through depends on what I want to do.”

“Like flip a car?” Sam asked.

Marley looked stricken. “What?”

“You flipped my car, didn’t you? And it was your men who abducted Quinn.”

Marley shifted on her chair and avoided their eyes. Her fingers plucked at the fringe of a plaid placemat. She wasn’t acting like someone who wanted to hurt them, and Quinn tried to keep her anger out of her voice, more concerned with getting answers than lashing out.

“Is Sam right?”

“I wanted us to know each other better before we got to that.” Marley’s voice shook. “I have very good reasons for both.”

Even though she’d expected this, Quinn’s heart sank into a disappointment unlike any she’d ever known. Some part of her had still wanted Marley to deny it all. At the least, she’d wanted her sister not to be a criminal.

“I’d really like to hear this.” Nick dropped the foot of his injured leg to the floor and twisted in his chair to face Marley full on. His expression sarcastic, he said, “Do tell.”

“I will but…I need to know what you know first.” She looked at Quinn when she said it.

Quinn wasn’t inclined to help her out. “About what, in particular?”

“Can you tell me what led you here? Why you found me?”

They ran through the basics of what they’d learned, ending with Alana’s reference to family ties and their search for records that revealed their relationship.

“You’re the most logical family she could be referring to. And the only thing that would make our relationship such a big deal to the board is the leech. So you have to be connected to him,” she concluded, avoiding a direct accusation.

Marley’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know that I am. I don’t want it to be true.”

Quinn couldn’t tell if Marley’s distress was real or an attempt to play on her empathy. Not that she had any right now. “But it is.”

Marley nodded. “It’s got to be. Anson Tournado is my fiancé.”

Fury surged and Quinn held herself very still against the urge to punish. Sam placed his hand on Quinn’s shoulder, and Nick’s head angled her way when Marley used the present tense—that he is her fiancé, not was. They hardly moved, but she felt them closing in around her. It was enough for her to control herself, though Marley shrank back at the look in her eyes.

“And?” She dreaded what came next, but what Marley said was no surprise now.

“I imbued him with the power of a goddess. And now someone’s leeched three other goddesses.”

“Four.” Nick’s voice was hard.

“I didn’t know,” Marley whispered. Her tears spilled over in silvery trails down her cheeks. “I don’t want it to be him. It can’t be him, but…”

“But who else could it be,” Nick finished for her, tone granite-hard.

Marley nodded. “And if it is him, he isn’t even close to done. I think he’s coming after you, Quinn. I have no evidence or anything. I just feel it.” Her tears flowed faster. “You’re running out of time.”

“Why?” Nick barked.

But Quinn knew. “Tomorrow’s the full moon.”

…



“Tell us everything you know about Anson,” Nick demanded. “Everything.”

“Wait.” Sam’s hand tightened on Quinn’s shoulder. “Let her collect herself. There’s time. He doesn’t know where we are.”

“Oh, no?” Nick’s green eyes had darkened to emerald. “If Marley’s guys didn’t shoot me, who do you think did?”

Quinn pushed to her feet, knocking Sam’s hand away. She was tired of good cop/bad cop, of coaxing Marley’s story along. The closer they got to Anson, the more at risk her friends were. “If your boyfriend tried to kill my protector—”

“You don’t know that he did!” Marley protested, leaning away to look up at Quinn. Her pale eyes were wide. “It could have been a hunter…or…or…anyone!”

“Hardly. That bullet was infused with a drug that induced intense pain.” She didn’t describe the demons thing. It was too personal.

Her sister slumped and nodded miserably. “That’s a power he was interested in. He wants some of everything, but he has his favorites.”

“Why would you do this?” Sam asked. “Why would you create the biggest threat to goddesses in a hundred years?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Marley sobbed. “I didn’t think— I didn’t believe— He said it was just a transfer of power. That all the stories were fake, because powerful women didn’t want powerful men.”

“Where is he?” Quinn demanded. “Are you hiding him? So help me god…” She reached for Marley, the rage building so high she was only dimly aware of the energy following it, carving a path through her and coalescing in her hand, ready for use. But when Marley jerked away, Quinn froze. She took in her sister’s extreme paleness, the terror in her eyes. Saw the white glow over her own skin, realized she could have hurt her, actually hurt her, and felt sick.

No one moved. She sensed Nick staring at her, Sam’s concern emanating from behind her. Slowly, she released her draw on the energy and let it seep away, taking her anger with it. Marley’s distress was sincere. She wasn’t evil, only very, very stupid.

In the silence, Quinn’s stomach growled.

“O-kay! That would be my cue.” Nick eased to his feet and wrapped his hand around her arm. “It’s been a while since breakfast. Let’s go pick up some lunch, then we can all sit and work this out. M’kay?”

Marley jumped up. “Oh, no, you’ll have lunch here. It won’t take long to prepare.” Her voice trembled, and tears still clung to her eyelashes. Quinn drew in an anguished breath. She wanted to believe her sister, to salvage shreds of possible friendship for the future. But she couldn’t take her at face value. Nick was right. She needed a break, to get some perspective, but if they left the property Marley could disappear. Finding her again would be much more difficult and much more vital, especially if she went to Anson.

“I’ll stay here,” Sam said, standing close to Quinn, his eyes on Marley. “You two go pick something up and bring it back.”

Quinn didn’t want to leave him behind. Marley could do irreparable harm to him in the short time they’d be gone, and she had those guys with the guns. But he watched her sister with an implacable expression. Marley huddled into herself, sniffing and wiping her eyes, not appearing to be much of a threat. When Sam reached under the table for his duffel and removed a handgun, never taking his eyes off Marley, Quinn finally agreed.

Nick limped outside, and Quinn followed. He got into the Prius without comment but stared longingly at his stranded Charger as they passed.

“You’d better not have damaged her,” he said.

“She’ll be fine. I can fix her like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” He pointed to the right. “There’s a grinder place up here.”

She cast him a glance, amused despite herself. “Grinder?”

He shrugged. “Speak the lingo, you blend in better.”

She pulled into the rutted, wavy parking lot of Bruno’s Grinders and turned off the car. They both sat for a moment, watching the few people inside the take-out restaurant. Quinn’s head throbbed, her shoulders and neck so tight from tension there was no room for her body to recognize the proximity of the man in the car. Until she thought about it, and the yearning throbbed a few times before fading again.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For?”

“Stopping me from doing something I couldn’t take back.”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t difficult.”

“So what do you think?” she asked after a few more minutes of silence.

“I don’t know.” He propped his elbow on the door and rubbed his forehead. “She seems sincere. I mean, sure, she did something colossally stupid, but I don’t think she’s lying about her intentions.”

“I don’t, either. But I can’t—”

Nick didn’t look at her. “How about we deal with the concrete stuff first? She still has a lot of questions to answer. Like, why did she say he is her fiancé, not was?”

“That one’s easy.” Quinn snorted. “She loves him and doesn’t want him to be a bad guy. And if he is the leech—which he’s got to be, no matter how deep her denial—then it’s a subtle way of accepting responsibility.”

“If she gave this guy his power, why hasn’t she told anyone?”

“Maybe she has,” Quinn countered, aware Nick was putting her in a position to defend her sister. “I mean, Alana knew something. Maybe that’s why they didn’t want me to be part of it.”

“Okay, if they know, why don’t they have her in custody or anything?”

“They’re not the FBI. They may have someone watching her, either to make sure she’s not in cahoots with Anson or to use her as bait. But he’s probably done with her. He’s obviously been elsewhere.”

“He’s here now though.” Nick shifted his leg.

“We think. And the Society wouldn’t know that.”

“Unless they’re tracking your movements and think he’s coming after you at the full moon. Using you as bait.”

Quinn stared at him, another shocking possibility filling her head. Her skin flushed. Nick stared back. Then, obviously reading her, he made a “what the hell?” face. “You think they’re tracking you through me?”

“No. Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“I called John,” she admitted. “Maybe that triggered— He didn’t know about the rogue thing.”

Nick groaned. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“I was worried. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Seems clear to me. This tornado guy—”

“Tournado.”

“Whatever. He knows I’m your protector, and he made Hollinger send out that accusation hoping I’d be recalled. Leaving you vulnerable.”

“I’m not vulnerable right now, so it didn’t work.”

“And I wanted to keep it that way. If John knew, he would recall me. So, what?” He returned to Quinn’s concern. “You think Tournado’s got John’s phone tapped or something?”

“I don’t know.” She thought about Jennifer. “You know, we were wondering why that e-mail didn’t get out. It was on the group mail. But if Jennifer hadn’t been leeched yet, maybe she ensured it only came to me, instead of to the whole Society. You know, protecting you. Us.”

“Goddess voodoo,” he said. “You blew me off when I suggested it. Could she do that?”

“Not voodoo,” Quinn insisted. “Hacking. Or something like that. She could have coded her e-mail so Anson wouldn’t know what she was doing.”

Nick’s frown cleared. “That could explain why it stayed quiet. So when Tournado’s attempt to discredit me or get me away from you didn’t work, he came here and shot me. Trying to take me out or, what, lure you up here?” He shook his head, unconvinced. “How did he know I was coming?”

Quinn didn’t have the answers, and she could tell they were about to go in circles again. She needed a break. “Let’s get the food.” She got out and went around the car, but Nick stood without her help and limped into the restaurant. The scent of spicy tomato sauce and toasting bread filled the air. Her stomach growled again, and Nick grinned.

“You always were a stress eater.”

She smacked him on the arm. “I didn’t finish breakfast.” He smiled and rubbed the back of her neck, and both the muscles and inner tension loosened. How did he do that so effortlessly?

They sat at a tiny table while they waited for the food they’d ordered.

“Back to Marley,” Nick said, leaning on his arms and putting his face inches from hers so they wouldn’t be overheard.

It was too close, because in easing her tension, he’d attracted her body’s attention. “Hang on.” They’d been gone twenty minutes, and she wanted to check in. Get her equilibrium back somehow. And get a little distance from Nick. She pulled out her phone and dialed Sam, who answered right away.

“Everything’s fine here.”

“Okay.” She let out a long breath and finally felt normal. “The food should be ready in ten. Then we’ll be back.”

“Got it.”

“See anyone else?”

“I met Fran. She’s as protective as Nick. Doesn’t like me.”

Quinn drew in a quick breath at the word. “Do you think she’s a real protector?”

“Could be. Ask Nick.”

“I will. See you soon.” She closed the phone.

“Does he think who’s a real protector?”

“Fran, Marley’s assistant manager. Sam said she’s very protective. It would be a good cover, right?”

Nick looked disgusted. “If she is, she’s not a very good one. Marley was alone with us for way too long while Fran was doing laundry.”

“Good point. Maybe she’s not. We’ll ask when we get back.” She glanced up when the guy behind the counter rang a bell, but the number he called wasn’t theirs.

The important question had to be asked. “Do you think Marley’s still working with Anson? That all this was deliberate?”

“If she is, she’s a good actress. I don’t get a lying vibe off her.”

“Me, neither. But my judgment is clouded.”

Nick’s face softened. “I didn’t think you’d admit that.”

“I thought I’d made it kind of obvious.”

“Yeah, but your judgment is clouded.” He smiled, and her heart rolled.

“Nick—”

He picked up her hand and held it between both of his. Her skin warmed, the sensation spreading up her arm and into her body, filling her. Natural attraction fed into her hunger, and she closed her eyes, trying to keep it at bay.

“Quinn, no one’s judgment is less clouded than yours. You want her to be cool. That’s normal. But you’re not blind to the possibility that she’s not. You’re asking the question.”

“Threatening her.”

“You were scared.”

“And mad.” She grimaced. “I sent your car into a ditch.”

“Yeah, that pissed me off.” He smiled again. She wished he’d stop doing that. This time she felt like he’d sprinkled glitter in her chest. That was hardly compatible with her anger and suspicion.

“But you were doing what you felt you had to do,” he continued. “You only slowed us down, and you knew it. I’m pretty commanding. You were tired of fighting me. I get that.”

Her lips curved. “Fighting you? Rescuing you, maybe.”

“About that.” He turned serious. His eyes lightened to a golden green, and her heart panged.

“About what?”

“What you did last night.”

“Oh.” She looked down at the table, but only for a moment. His soft words, spoken intently, compelled her to meet his eyes again.

“I’ve never felt pain like that, Quinn. I thought I was going to die.”

She whispered his name, her hand convulsing around his.

“You were amazing. Whatever you did, you kept me grounded. I didn’t think until later that you probably hurt just as much.”

“No, only a little,” she lied. “It doesn’t matter. I’d sacrifice anything for you.” Afraid she’d ventured too far into off-limits territory, and afraid he’d push her away from it again, she sat back and glanced away.

The bell dinged again, and the Italian behind the counter called their number. She went up to take the bag, and a minute later they were heading back toward the inn.

“So how do you want to play the rest of this?” Nick asked.

Quinn forced herself to think unemotionally. “Let’s find out what she can tell us about Anson. Then we’ll get Sam set up with his laptop and he can try to match her story or find more that she doesn’t know or doesn’t want to tell us. I need to talk to her about our family some more, too.”

“We need to prepare for tomorrow, Quinn.”

For the leech. “I know. But we don’t know how.”

“Hell we don’t. We pull the Charger out of the ditch and get the hell out of there, hole up somewhere he won’t have allies.”

“Nick—”

“Even if your sister isn’t in cahoots with him, her so-called ‘misfits’ could be on his side. It’s not safe to stay there.”

“Cahoots?” She couldn’t stop a giggle, which diffused Nick’s intensity in turn.

“C’mon, give me a break. I’m trying to save your life here.”

She sobered. “You’re trying to save my lifestyle. He doesn’t kill. Having my powers taken away doesn’t change who I am, it only changes how I live.”

Like, if she were no longer a goddess, she wouldn’t need Nick’s protection anymore.

“Do you want him to leech you?” His tone was exasperated.

She didn’t even need to think about it. “No.”

“Then we get the hell outta here.”

“My safety isn’t important anymore.”

“The hell it’s not!”

“There are more important things.”

She pulled up next to the Charger, which looked forlorn in its forward cant. “You could have died. I’d rather lose my abilities than lose you.” Before the weight of her words could settle, she continued. “Marley may be working with him, or she could just be incredibly stupid. And she’s my sister.” Quinn held up a hand and closed her eyes for a second, the truth of the relationship coming home to her. “I don’t have to like her or condone anything she’s done. But I would never forgive myself if we left her and something happened.”

Nick took a deep breath. Quinn knew he understood. Family was what drove him, wasn’t it? And he’d dedicated his life to keeping others safe. He had to get that this was what she was trying to do now.

“All right. I’ll consider it. After we hear the rest of what she has to say, we’ll discuss our next move.”

“Thank you.” She nodded toward his car. “If I get that out of there, will you be able to drive it up?”

“Yeah, sure. Leg’s fine now.”

In three seconds, the car had risen up a few feet, spun on its rear wheels, and settled onto the gravel at the end of the drive. “I’ll see you there.”

Nick growled at her, but he switched cars and followed her up the drive to the house. Sam came out as they climbed the steps, and he stopped them on the porch.

“I’ve talked to Marley a little. All her guests have left except the one couple we met earlier. They’re going on an overnight trip and will be gone within the hour.”

“So she’s been preparing for this,” Quinn observed. “That woman said the inn was booked, but this means she hasn’t been taking new guests.”

Sam scowled. “So is she part of it, or did this guy manipulate her into getting you here? You know, let her know her sister was his main target. Those kidnappers were hers. She said they were under orders to keep you safe but not tell you anything.” He peered into the bag and sniffed. “You got sausage?”

“With peppers.” Quinn nudged Sam with her elbow. “What else did you find out?”

“Not much. She wanted to wait for you. Says she’s worried about what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

“It’s best if I meet him at my peak power. I know that’s his best time to leech me,” she said before Nick could open his mouth, “but it’s also when I’m strongest, and he’s not taking me by surprise like he did the others. I’m going to be a bitch to leech, and he might be cocky after the first ones were so easy. Plus, if Marley’s telling the truth, she’s vulnerable. If he comes here and I’m gone, he might do something major.”

“Like what, killing Marley in rage?” Sam asked.

She nodded and repeated to him what she’d told Nick. “If she’s part of this, we’re better off keeping her with us, where we can see her. If she’s not, she has all her power sources here, arranged for effectiveness. She knows the house and property, and if she’s sorry for what she’s done, she’ll be an asset in a fight.”

Nick clenched his jaw and tapped the foot of his bad leg. “I’ll go for it. But I’m front line, and there are no arguments about that.”

“Of course. Let’s go eat.”