Under the Moon (Goddesses Rising)

Chapter Thirteen

But the goddess didn’t believe her grandmother. The man was handsome and charming, and he’d even saved the goddess from falling into the pond. The first time he whispered her name and kissed her fingers, she fell in love. When he lamented that they could never be together because of her gifts and his lack, she eagerly bestowed upon him a portion of her ability. Thus began their tragedy.

—“The Goddess and the Leech,” from Tales of the Descendants of Asgard

…



They carried the food inside, where an older woman was now helping Marley form cinnamon rolls from the dough she’d worked with earlier.

“You’re back!” Marley cried. “Quinn, this is my assistant manager, Fran. Fran, my sister.”

Quinn stepped forward and shook the woman’s hand, then had to wipe sticky dough off her fingers with a towel. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Same, I suppose.”

“Fran,” Marley scolded.

“It’s okay.” Quinn studied her. “I’ve been told she’s protective.”

Fran glared at Sam, who held his hands up at his sides in an innocent gesture.

“Are you in the business?” Nick asked, moving next to Quinn and snitching a bit of dough.

“What business?” Fran lifted her chin and looked down her nose at Nick, though he was a good six inches taller than she was. With her salt-and-pepper hair pulled into a clipped loop at the back of her neck and silver half-spectacles sitting on her nose, their chain dangling, she looked like a librarian. But something in her demeanor said she could kick all of their asses.

“Protection business.”

“None of yours.” She went back to rolling out the dough.

Nick mouthed, “She’s in the business,” to Quinn and filched another bit of dough.

“The food’s getting cold.” Quinn returned to the table and set out the grinders. Marley carried sealed bottles of water to the table and passed them around.

“You don’t trust me yet,” she said in response to Quinn’s inquiring glance. “I know this is a minor thing…”

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

Nick didn’t look convinced, but by now, Quinn was too tired of the strain of suspicion to care.

“Okay, Marley. Spill.”

Marley swallowed hard, her eyes darting everywhere but at Quinn. “I have to go back a ways.”

“To Anson.”

“Yes.” She grimaced at her sandwich and set it on the paper wrapper with only a few bites gone. “You met our father, right?”

Quinn nodded.

“He told you I collect misfits or something like that?”

Fran grunted, and Marley patted her hand almost absently.

“He did.”

“I don’t consider them misfits. But there’s something about all of us that doesn’t fit into society. Or the Society. A few years ago, I got tired of the politics and attitude of the goddesses in charge.”

Quinn hid her annoyance and automatic need to defend her peers.

Marley continued. “Someone somewhere told someone else that I’d started this inn way up here, a getaway, and she came to work for me as a maid. She said she couldn’t find a job anywhere else because of a felony conviction when she was seventeen and tried as an adult. She was an excellent employee, and she worked here for years before she decided to head south for college. She told some friends about me, who told other people, and soon I had a steady stream of workers and friends who were quirky in some way.” She glanced at Fran. “The Protectorate didn’t like the idea of so much in and out and sent Fran up here. She quit the official Protectorate a while ago but does the job anyway.”

“I knew it,” Nick muttered. When Fran glared at him, he grinned and crunched a potato chip.

“Anson?” Sam prompted.

“He came here three years ago, wanting to be my assistant.”

Sam flinched. He looked at Quinn out of the corner of his eye, then back at Marley as if nothing had happened. Quinn wondered if he was reacting to the job title or something else.

“At the time I had a lull in active business but was going crazy trying to take and organize bookings, as well as the people who wanted appointments for goddess work. So I hired him. He was like a sponge, soaking up everything I taught him. He learned all he could about goddess history and ability, and he was whiz on the computer.”

“How old is he?” Sam asked, his voice rough.

“Twenty-eight.”

Sam closed his eyes, then pushed his chair back and walked out of the room. Quinn started to get up, but Nick put his hand on her thigh. “I’ll go.” He gave a chin-jerk to Marley. “You listen.”

“So he’s younger than you are,” Quinn said. “But you guys fell in love?”

Marley seemed to shrink down into her shoulders. “We did. Or, I thought we did. We were having very passionate sex because I get so…you know, whenever I use a lot of power.”

Boy, did she know. This was the first time she’d heard of anyone else suffering from it and wondered if it was a family trait. The similarities to Sam and herself creeped her out. She was glad that Sam had left the room, almost gladder that Nick had, though they hadn’t gone far. Low voices drifted to her from down the hall.

“It grew from there. Last spring he proposed, and in July—” Marley swallowed hard. “In July, I did the stupidest thing in the world. I wanted him to be like me. We shared everything but that, and I knew he felt inferior because of it. I had to even the field or I was afraid that over time, it would kill our relationship.”

How could she be so stupid? “So you just ignored everything we’ve been taught about leeches?”

Tears filled Marley’s oddly pale eyes. “He said it wasn’t true, that he’d done research and it was lies told to keep men from taking power from us. He told me how to focus power through a big quartz geode into him. I couldn’t believe how easy it was. He sucked it right up and started moving things around. He found a rash on someone’s leg and healed it in seconds. He was giddy with his abilities. That was the happiest night of my life.” She swiped her fingers across her cheeks. “The next day, he was gone, and so was my geode.”

Quinn understood how devastating that betrayal had to have been, but Marley’s gullibility was hard to believe. “When did you hear about Tanda and Chloe?” she asked.

“A few days after Chloe was leeched. It was like being stabbed in the heart. I was already feeling used, and then to learn he might have done this. Someone I loved, that I thought I knew everything about. I called the Society, then went down to Boston to meet with them. I—” She faltered for the first time. “I told them about you. I’d talked to Anson about you and about how I wished I hadn’t been so cowardly and had a relationship with you.” She heaved a sigh. “And I told him how powerful you are, except you don’t have constant access. I think he decided that if he leeched other goddesses and then you, he could have your level of power, or more, all the time.”

Everything fell into place. “So that’s why the Society margin-alized me.”

“They don’t trust me now and probably extended it to you.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Part of Quinn wanted to comfort Marley, but the rest of her held a futile fury. The two canceled each other out, leaving her with nothing to say.

Sam and Nick walked into the room, both looking grim. Quinn repeated what Marley had told her.

Nick scowled at Marley. “You used the present tense.”

She sniffed and frowned at him. “What?”

“You said Anson is your fiancé.”

“Oh.” Her face reddened. “No matter what I hear, a part of me doesn’t want it to be true. I love him.” Her shoulders lifted in a hunch. “We still don’t have proof…” Her voice grew faint and trailed off. No one bothered to point out how foolish that was.

“So now you get to the part about flipping Sam’s car,” Nick said.

Marley rested her head on her hands, elbows propped on the table. “I didn’t know what to do. I knew you were a target, but I was even more scared to contact you when I found out. Tanda and Chloe are your friends, and your protector’s the famous Nick Jarrett.”

Nick smirked.

“I called Under the Moon, and the woman who answered said you were out of town indefinitely. So I flew to Ohio and traced your path. Then I projected where you might be going, found a place to watch, and set it up.”

“To kill me,” Sam accused.

“No! To deter you.” She shook her head. “I hoped if it seemed someone was trying to hurt you, you’d back off.”

“But…”

“But you didn’t. One of my friends is a top-level hacker. He piggybacked on all your research, and it was obvious you weren’t going to stop. So I sent some of my staff to get Quinn and bring you back here so we could talk. And you’d be safe.”

“You don’t believe I would have been safe from Anson here alone with you, do you?” Quinn asked.

Grief filled Marley’s eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“All right,” Quinn conceded. “When did you last see or hear from Anson?”

“The day I empowered him.”

“Great. That’s very helpful.” Needing to move, Quinn stood and grabbed at the trash littering the table. Nick stopped her.

“I’ll get this. Sam has to talk to you outside.” He motioned to the back door onto a wood deck that overlooked the gardens and pathways. Sam nodded. He sat with his arms folded and his cheek pulsed. Something was wrong. Something more. Quinn left the trash, her hands stiff and cold. They headed outside, apprehension digging in where everything else had left toeholds. How much more could she face?

The day was overcast but still bright enough to make them squint. She would have leaned on the wall of the deck, under the shelter of the roof, but Sam continued down the steps and away from the building. Quinn followed a few paces behind.

“What’s wrong?”

Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders. “All of this might be my fault.”

“No way.” Quinn shook her head. “You didn’t even know Marley existed. How could you have caused her to do this?”

“Not that part.” Sam’s sigh was anvil heavy. “I think I know who Anson is.”

“Okay.” That should be a good thing, but the burn in Quinn’s gut said it wasn’t.

Sam stopped walking and leaned against the trunk of a tree. “I knew him as Tony. Short for Anton. Different last name. He was my freshman-year roommate in college.”

“That was a long time ago, and that’s all circumstantial. Coincidence.”

He shook his head. “We kept in touch sporadically, but when I graduated and came to work for you, I lost track of him. He e-mailed me a couple of years ago. Around Christmas, I think.” Sam blinked fast. “We did the catch-up thing. I told him all about you and my job and stuff.” He glanced at her, then away. “I told him a lot.”

“About the full extent of our relationship.”

“Yeah.”

“And you think he took that and decided to emulate you?”

“Maybe.”

Quinn looked out across the grounds. “There’s a lot about this that’s uncomfortably parallel to us.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “I could have done it. Made you a leech. It’s easy to rationalize the way Marley did. Lies meant to hold us down, that kind of thing. If things had been…just a little different. I might have done it.”

Sam shook his head. “Never.”

He sounded so certain, Quinn smiled. “Why not? Because you wouldn’t have wanted it?”

“No. I wanted it. You know the only reason I’m your assistant is because I couldn’t be a goddess. God. Whatever.” He made a face. “The consequences are too severe, and I’d have never risked becoming a leech. But you’re way too conscientious to have tried it, anyway. You wouldn’t go against the natural order.”

He was right, and they were getting way off track. “We should confirm this. Do you have a photo or anything you can show Marley? Or does she have a picture? She’s got to have a picture.” Eager to find a target, some direction, she started back toward the house, but Sam caught her arm.

“I’m sorry, Quinn.”

He was so not taking responsibility for this. “Sam, this guy used you. He knew about your mother, right?”

Sam nodded shortly.

“What was his major?”

“Mystic studies.”

“See? He was heading this way long before he contacted you. I’ll bet you anything he only did so he could set his path. Domination was always his goal, and he used you the same way he used Marley.”

“If this guy harms you, it will be because of me.”

She laughed, not feeling at all humorous. “Sam, if he succeeds in his plans, it will be because of a lot of people, not the least of whom is me. My ego.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know how Marley said everyone was talking about me and my power and how appalling it was that I was running a bar? I reveled in it. I did nothing to stop the talk. In fact, I ran for office to keep it going.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Quinn hung her head for a moment. “Sam, your belief in me is so blind. I’m not the paragon you make me out to be.”

“Maybe not, but that only means you’re human. I have no illusions about your flaws, believe me.”

Now feeling a true spark of amusement, Quinn smiled at him. “Wanna list them?”

He ticked them off on his fingers. “You’re ageist. You’re bossy. You think your way is the best way and to hell with the rest of us if we don’t agree. And you constantly overlook the best things in your life because you think you don’t deserve them.”

He’d managed to crush the spark. “I don’t overlook anything, and it’s not about what I deserve. It’s about what you deserve.”

“Yeah, that’s the ‘your way is the best way’ part.” He thudded his head back against the tree. “Forget it. That’s an old argument, and we’re done with it.” He pushed away from the tree. “Let’s see if Marley has a picture. I’ll go back and pull all the info I can find on Tony, and we’ll see if we can use any of it against him.” He walked away, his long legs taking him far beyond the point where Quinn could catch up to him.

…



Quinn walked slowly up to the house, thinking. By the time she got there, Marley had found a picture and Sam confirmed that Anson was Anton. The picture resembled the sketch from Chloe’s description, too. Quinn wondered why the Society hadn’t sent the photo around instead of the sketch, but Nick figured it was to keep Anson from knowing how close they were to catching him.

Nothing anyone said convinced Sam he hadn’t played a significant role in Anson’s plans. He spent the rest of the afternoon moping over his computer while they discussed, argued, and planned.

By nine that night, Quinn was jumping out of her skin. The moon had been up for six hours and would be at peak full in the morning, right after setting. Since healing Nick’s leg and rescuing the Charger, she’d let her ability to draw power build. She wanted to have as much capacity as possible when Anson attacked. None of them had any doubt he would.

Because her connection to the moon was so strong now, almost an open conduit throbbing with energy, her body’s need to recharge had subsided. Quinn remained aware of Nick no matter what was going on, but not any more strongly than usual. Still, she kept several feet between them whenever possible.

Marley gave them all bedrooms upstairs so they could stay close and rotate watch through the night. Not that a watch was necessary, when no one seemed ready to go to bed. They lingered in the upstairs common room, the guys and Fran playing poker halfheartedly while Quinn and Marley curled up on the couch and talked.

In an attempt to maintain her sanity, Quinn decided to pretend none of this had happened. She had a million questions for her sister and couldn’t think of a better distraction. For a couple of hours, they found common ground and got to know each other a bit. At two minutes past eleven, a little more settled and knowing she’d be better off tomorrow with rest, Quinn yawned and rose off the sofa.

“I’m going to bed.”

Marley sighed but also stood. “I guess I will, too. Buffet breakfast will be out by seven, guys, but don’t—”

A thud on the roof above them cut her off. Everyone froze, all looking upward, as if they could see anything through the ceiling. Nick, by the windows overlooking the back of the house, sidestepped behind the curtain and tried to peer out into the yard.

“Marley, kill the lights.”

The room went dark. Quinn listened hard but couldn’t hear any more movement.

“Are there any trees over the house?” Sam asked. “Maybe a branch fell?”

“No.” Marley had remained by the light switch near the stairs. Fran hurried over and tugged her back toward the center of the room. Everyone stood still, silent. Nothing happened. The tension in the room grew until Quinn imagined them all snapping in half like dry twigs.

Unable to stand it anymore, she opened herself up a little and used a bit of power to sense the presence on the roof, a human energy signature.

“It’s one man,” she told them, her voice low. “Down in the yard is too far for me to sense, but there’s one man right above us.”

“Anson,” Marley guessed.

“No, a regular person. But there’s…” She closed her eyes and pressed, trying to decipher the other energy she sensed. Not living energy, not just electricity, it was—Holy shit. “He’s got explosives.”

“Downstairs!” Nick barked.

Bobby and Tim dashed to the stairs, guns out. Fran dragged Marley away and Sam followed, but Quinn hung back, concentrating on putting up a shield behind them. If the guy above them blew up the roof before they were all downstairs, maybe she could keep the others from getting hurt.

The shield was only half formed when Nick snagged her arm and yanked her through the doorway. He pushed her ahead of him, but now he was closest to the danger and she didn’t have time to shield him. She jumped to the landing and waited for him to reach her before starting down the last of the steps.

Ka-BOOM!

Quinn’s ears rang with the blast, and she stumbled as the building shook. Dear god. This was much more than they’d expected. They couldn’t fight this.

Nick caught her arm again and dragged her down into the central hall. “What else can you sense?” he growled, maintaining a constant visual sweep of the perimeter. Door, window, parlor, lobby, hall. All remained blank, empty.

Quinn closed her eyes and sensed around the building. It took more power to cast that wide, and she could only reach a short distance across the yard. “Four people right outside, plus two more with power.” Her eyelids flew open and she met Marley’s stunned look. “Either two goddesses,” she said, “or Anson and one goddess.”

“I can’t believe someone would work with him,” Marley protested.

“We don’t have time to debate that,” Quinn said. “They’re coming. All sides.”

Without a word the group gathered in a tight circle, facing out. Fran and the men all held guns. Crystals dangled from leather thongs at Marley’s waist and adorned her hands and wrists as jewelry. Quinn tightened her awareness of the moon. They waited, the tension now so high it hummed.

A window broke somewhere out of Quinn’s vision. A flinch went around the circle, but they held their positions. Two beats of silence later there was a tinkle of glass, then the roar of Tim’s shotgun, a cry, and silence again.

“Got one,” Tim said from the other side of the huddle, his tone implacable.

Movement in the hall to the kitchen. Black against blacker. Quinn tapped Nick’s upper arm and felt him nod. He raised his gun. The shadow ducked. Nick held his fire, but he was closest to that hall, and he was vulnerable. Quinn reached out, connected with the shadow’s energy, and dragged him out of the hall toward her. Before Nick could move, she thrust her foot behind the man’s ankles, hit him in the chest with the heel of her hand, and slammed him to his back. She yanked off his black ski mask.

“It’s not him.” Rage poured into the hollow of her calm. She wanted the leech, dammit, not hired guns. The man tried to sweep her legs. She put a shield in the way, and his lower leg slammed into it and bounced off. He howled and grabbed his shin. Nick caught his wrist, flipped him over, and zip-tied his hands and feet.

But the man mumbled something, and Quinn saw that he was miked. She ripped it off his ear too late. More glass shattered and wind whipped through the room, whirling around them and knocking some of them off-balance. It wasn’t a natural wind, clearly generated by one of the goddesses or the leech. Anson.

“What the f*ck?” Nick yelled. The wind pushed him back, away from her, and he fought against it in vain. Quinn’s hair lashed her face, blinding her. She fumbled in her pocket for a hair tie and tried to secure it. She had to see, but the effort occupied her hands. Another dark shape appeared out of the maelstrom, a gun aimed at Sam, and she panicked, her fingers tangling in her hair. She yelled and slammed her body into the man, using telekinesis to shove the gun sideways. He managed to fire, the round plowing into the wall behind the registration desk. Sam was on him almost before she’d regained her balance, wrenching the gun from the guy and ejecting the clip.

“You okay?” Sam called at her as the wind separated them, too. He reached out a hand and she tried to grab it but missed.

Dammit, she had to get to the goddess controlling not only the wind but now also a thick, swirling fog collecting from the misty grounds outside. The wind pushed her against the wall. She squinted. Papers from the front desk swirled around, making it even more difficult to see, never mind tell friend from foe. Bodies appeared here, disappeared there, the entire scene disorienting her so that if she hadn’t had the wall at her back, she wouldn’t know which way was up. A potpourri basket smacked her in the side of the head. Sparks shot through her vision. She couldn’t stay here. Pushing off the wall, she stumbled toward the front door, which hung crookedly from one hinge. A woman stood there with her feet braced wide, sucking air from the outside to feed the maelstrom in the lobby.

Light flashing from the parlor drew Quinn’s attention. Marley crouched there, a crystal held in her palm. Light flashed inside the crystal again, and this time there was a cry from someone beyond Quinn’s vision. Marley jumped forward, and Quinn heard a crash like toppling furniture. More flashes, then her sister appeared in the doorway, her chest heaving and her hair wild, but otherwise whole.

Quinn turned back to the enemy goddess. The woman stood with her eyes closed, her arms wide as if she’d scooped the wind in front of her. Trying to counter that wind would do no good, but moving things—that Quinn was good at. She held up her hands in front of her body and pushed energy through them to get the woman out the door, onto the porch, then backward, down the steps, away from the fight inside the inn. The woman resisted but couldn’t keep up the wind and fog at the same time. The roar of the rushing air subsided. Quinn stepped out on the porch, following the woman into the yard, intent on corralling her. Too late she realized her mistake.

Bodies surged around her, far more than the six she’d originally sensed. There were guns and knives and people who looked like they’d been well trained in hand-to-hand combat. Someone knocked her sideways as he ran around the side of the building, but he didn’t seem to even notice.

As if obeying a single command—and judging by the earpiece the first guy had been wearing, they were—the enemies stopped moving and aimed their weapons at the front door. Quinn stood frozen in the center of the yard. She couldn’t warn anyone inside without drawing attention to herself, and if they realized she wasn’t there and came out after her, they’d be dead before they even saw what waited for them out here.

An inaudible hum, a rise in power vibrated on her left. She whirled. Another woman built a ball of fire in her palm while she stared, focused, at the front door. Her intention was clear—she would heave the fire at the house and send the entire building into flames. Either trapping everyone inside an inferno or forcing them out to be gunned down. Quinn had barely registered the horror of those options when it clicked.

Two goddesses. Two people with power. The leech wasn’t here.

F*ck.

A scream came from the porch. Quinn watched Fran fall to her knees, blood dark against her light-colored shirt. Gunshots sounded all around her, and the fireball grew. Marley. Sam. Nick. They would lose. Worse, they would die.

Quinn opened herself as wide as she could, imagining a giant conduit between her and the moon. She’d never done anything like this before, but she’d thought about it all day, visualizing scenarios, sensing the energy and planning how to use it. She closed her eyes and in seconds had pinpointed all the metal weapons within her range, all the enemies, and all her people. She shielded the latter and isolated the former and drew, harder than she ever had before. White light flooded her, overflowed her, and she tried to compress it, to force it into two streams. Her skin prickled and burned. With a yell she flashed the heat to all sources of metal, warping the gun barrels so the bullets would jam or explode and fusing the pins of grenades that hadn’t yet been employed.

At the same time, she sent a concussion wave of energy sweeping across the lawn and driveway and into the house. She strengthened the shields around her people, Sam and Marley and Nick and Fran and Tim—lying motionless in front of the registration desk—and Bobby, standing on the stairs, facing down a man dressed in black. He collapsed under the force of the wave, as did all of her targets. All but one. The goddess nearby had set up her own shield of energy, protecting herself from Quinn.

The fireball rushed past Quinn and hit the front wall of the inn.

“Nooooooooooo!”

Quinn tried to run back to the building, but the effort she’d expended took an immediate toll. Her legs shook and numbed, and she fell at the bottom of the steps. She reached out, struggling to find a way to extinguish the flames, but a moment later, water streamed through the door, dousing the worst of them. Marley appeared behind the water, aiming a hose. Shadows enhanced gaunt hollows in her cheeks and under her eyes.

Quinn’s sluggish mind churned. The fireball goddess. Stop her. But when Quinn looked back toward the spot where she’d been, it was empty. She cast feelers, trying to sense her, but the goddess was already out of range.

“Quinn!” Marley screamed. “Help me!” She now crouched over Fran, who lay on the porch, bleeding out.

Quinn hauled herself up the steps, stamping out small flames flickering across the porch floor as she went, and collapsed next to Fran. She closed her eyes and put her hand on the woman’s chest. The bullet had gone through, low on her shoulder. The heart was okay, but a major vessel gushed blood. Quinn drew on her dwindling resources and focused her power into the injured protector. The vessel closed, then the smaller blood vessels. Flesh sealed over the wounds, front and back. Fran gasped and shuddered.

Lights flashed in blackness at the edges of Quinn’s vision. She’d drawn too much, too fast. She closed the conduit she’d opened, and all awareness of their attackers blinked off. Her friends and Marley’s remained residually connected to her, like a ghost image after closed eyes in bright light. They were all alive, if damaged, and the fading connection was reassuring.

The yard was silent now. No weapons discharging. No screams or shouts of anger. The fire died, and Marley went inside to Tim. Quinn hoped her sister could heal him, because she was nearly tapped out. She wasn’t even sure what was wrong with him.

She huddled next to Fran, drawing deep breaths as her vision cleared, but as it did she lost track of everything else. Nick stood in the driveway with his pistol, which she may have melted. But Sam…

She struggled to her feet and down the steps again. Nick sagged against the porch rail, looking haggard. He had a cut across one cheekbone and bruising on his jaw, and he held one arm against his body. Hurt ribs, maybe, or his shoulder.

“You okay?” they asked simultaneously. Then, together, “Barely.”

“Where’s Sam?” Quinn rasped.

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know. He chased a guy through a window.” He motioned toward the side of the house and grimaced as he straightened.

Quinn took a deep breath to brace herself and walked around the corner of the house. The grass was cold and damp against her dragging feet, and she realized for the first time that she was barefoot. Her left arch throbbed as if she’d stepped on a big stone, and her toes tingled in the chill. The air felt thick, not breathable, and her eyes didn’t like the darkness. She kept flinching from phantom movement. Her voice resisted, too, and calling out for Sam was fruitless.

They rounded the corner and the moonlight shone down on the wide yard, empty except for two figures on the ground. One wore all black, ski mask still in place.

The other was Sam.

“No!” Quinn whispered, fear spiking her adrenaline. She stumble-ran to where he sprawled on the ground, eyes closed, one arm bent across his body. There was no sign of blood, but that didn’t reassure her.

“Sam.” Nick slid to a halt at Sam’s far shoulder and patted his cheek. “Wake up, Sam.”

“I’m so sorry,” Quinn whispered.

Nick jerked his head up. “Stop it. He’s not dead.”

“No.” She closed her eyes, opened herself to the moon, and assessed him. No bullet wounds. No head injury—at least, not from a blow. His electrical system was all messed up, his breathing shallow, his heartbeat erratic.

“He’s been Tasered.”

Nick dropped his head. “Jesus. Is that all?” He sat on the ground with a thud. “I guess that’s what they need to take down a bull like him.”

“They used too much juice for too long. He’s tachy.” She had to help him. There were no hospitals close by—they’d already established that—and she wasn’t sure they could get paramedics here in time.

“Quinn, you’re tapped out.”

“No, I’m not.” The energy was unlimited, even if she had few resources to access it. She put her hand on Sam’s chest and opened herself wider again. Power came in a sluggish trickle, not the raging river it had been mere moments before. She nudged Sam’s heart. It did three rapid beats before settling into a rhythm. Next she inflated his lungs deep. He pushed all the air out, then drew it in less shallowly than before.

Now the hard part. Static zigzagged through his nervous system, causing fibers to jump and vibrate. She imagined touching them, calming them like a finger on a guitar string stops the sound. His body relaxed under her hand, and with a short sigh, she passed out on the grass next to him.