Under the Moon (Goddesses Rising)

Chapter Four

Each goddess has a specific source that serves as a conduit between her and the energy. She also has a unique combination of abilities that we like to compare to talents. Just as one child in a family might have an affinity for playing music while another can fix any mechanical item or perform complex mathematical equations in his or her head, so can each goddess have a unique combination of talents.

—The Society for Goddess Education and Defense, Goddess Source/Ability Catalog

…



Quinn shot off the couch so fast she nearly tumbled to the floor, her heart slamming in her chest, gushing aimless adrenaline through her. Nick caught her before she landed in the shards of glass that were all that remained of the coffee table next to them. The air vibrated with a ringing noise so loud she could see Nick’s mouth moving but couldn’t hear his voice. For a few seconds, the room swam and Quinn was barely capable of covering her ears to muffle the noise. He impatiently swung her up and over to a clear patch of floor, running his hands all over her, and she realized he was checking for glass. The noise must have shattered it, because no one else was in the room.

“I’m fine,” she tried to tell Nick, but she couldn’t hear her own voice, either. She tugged on his arm and he straightened, angling his body in front of hers.

Quinn couldn’t see the source of the sound, like a wet finger circling the rim of a crystal goblet, but far louder. Her chest heaved, and she searched the room wildly, desperate for a clue of what to do, how to act. Something black and hard flew toward them, propelled by nothing. Nick shoved her toward the floor, and it smashed against the wall over their heads before dropping a few inches away. A Bible. Someone had thrown a Bible at them. Telekinesis. The leech must have found them.

Nick grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the open bedroom door, away from attack. Quinn managed to grab her bag off the bed when Nick released her to sling his duffel across his body. He went straight to the window and began shoving it open.

Quinn slammed the door behind them, flinching as if something would hit it as she did. If this was the leech, where was he? In the hall or outside the building? Were they running into a trap?

It was a little quieter in here, and nothing else in the room moved. She stood, trying to catch her breath, to think. Nick said something, motioning, but she still couldn’t hear him over the roaring in her ears. The horrible ringing grew louder again, as if it had followed them. But there was still nothing to see or defend against. They had to get out.

Nick grabbed a chair from the corner and shoved it under the window. He grabbed Quinn’s elbow and dragged her to the chair. When he held up a hand, she nodded and watched him step up on it, push backward through the narrow opening and onto something she couldn’t see, and reach for her hand. She leaned out to look and saw scaffolding against the side of the building. She twisted to look up. There was nothing above them.

The ringing stopped abruptly. Quinn glanced back as the bedroom door flew open and smacked the wall behind it, but no one entered. She jumped onto the chair to follow Nick out.

“Let me go first.” Even in the sudden quiet, his voice was muffled through her closed ears. He motioned to illustrate his words. “We’re going to climb down the side, but some of the distances between holds are long. I’ll guide you.”

She nodded, impatient. He swung over the side and climbed down while Quinn scanned the area, even though Nick had to have already checked to be sure it was clear. She struggled to regulate her breathing and watched where Nick put his hands and feet before she followed.

She swung a leg through the window and grabbed the sill to lower herself to the scaffold. Pain shot through her right forearm. She gasped and let go. Blood oozed from a two-inch cut over the muscle, deep enough to hurt when she tried to use it. She couldn’t let it hamper her and grit her teeth as she began to climb down the side. At the Xs between levels, she shifted to the left and slid down the sloping tubes, her palms stinging from the friction on the cold metal.

A few steps later, they were on the sidewalk. Both looked up, but the scaffolding was clear of forms or moving shadows. Her body sagged, her breathing and heart rate easing, and the sensation of something chasing them faded. Her ears were still closed in protection, but even that was easing.

“Nice job. Let’s go.” Nick ran down the alley, away from the front of the hotel. Quinn followed without question, pressing the hem of her shirt against her wound. The rental car was probably being watched. The attacker knew what room they were in, so he might know more. Even though someone could be in the back of the hotel as easily as the front, there were Dumpsters and pallets and darkness that offered more protection than the bright lights and tiny valet stand on the main road.

Nick let her catch up to him before they reached the back of the building. “Time?” he whispered into her ear. It was too dark for him to see his watch.

“Eight past two,” she whispered back. Nick’s arm around her waist tightened when her lips touched his ear. He turned his head back to whisper to her again.

“We’ll run, few blocks, cab, airport.”

Quinn nodded. Nick leaned to peer around the corner, then signaled her to move. They dashed across the rear alley and continued on to the next main street. After looking both ways, they turned to the right, which was better lit and had a bit of traffic. Dodging black iron lampposts and street signs, they ran, sometimes single file, down the narrow concrete-and-brick sidewalk for three blocks before they slowed to a walk. Quinn realized they were still—or again—holding hands, and she didn’t want to let go.

“You’re limping.”

She looked down. The toes of her socks were flopping. She paused and bent to pull them on tighter. “I didn’t have time to get my shoes.”

A car approached behind them. Quinn’s pulse sped up, and she braced to run again until she saw the green Metro Cab logo on the white sedan. Nick flagged it down, and they got inside practically before it came to a complete stop. As soon as her butt hit the vinyl seat, her body started to shake from the adrenaline ebb, the kind of deep shudders that weren’t visible from the outside. She imagined her face was as white as the moon, though.

“Where to?” The cabbie yawned, which wasn’t very reassuring, but the streets, while not empty, didn’t require rush-hour alertness, either.

“You need shoes,” Nick said to Quinn.

“Nothing’s going to be open around here. I’ll get something at the airport.”

“Airport?” Cabbie asked.

“Airport,” Nick answered, and he turned back to Quinn, immediately spotting the blood on her arm. “What the hell?” He grabbed her arm quickly but gently, lifting it to see better. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s not bad.” But she hissed when he probed it.

“You have a first-aid kit?” he asked the cabbie, who tossed back a white plastic box with a red plus on it.

“It’ll need better cleaning and a proper bandage.” Nick used a few antiseptic wipes to clean the cut and cursed when he could only find small Band-Aids to cover it. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be silly.” He looked so upset, even in the darkness, that she didn’t tell him about the deep throbbing pain. She’d get some painkillers at the airport.

“Did we luck into that scaffolding?” Quinn tried to keep her voice low enough not to be overheard.

“Sam may not be a protector,” Nick admitted, “but he knows what he’s doing.”

“But I changed the room.”

He shrugged. “He left instructions. Did you notice the room numbers?”

“No.”

“The ones she crossed off were one floor below the suite. I spotted the scaffolding when we first got in.” He looked down at her bag on the floor next to her feet. “What did you manage to rescue out of there?”

“Everything.” Thank god. “I only had the one bag, and we never got around to talking about the printout. It’s still in there.”

“Next time, bring extra shoes.”

“Yeah right.” She watched lights flash past for a few minutes. When Nick didn’t bring up the details of the attack, she guessed he didn’t want to talk about it in front of strangers.

The cabbie dropped them in front of their terminal. Quinn paid him, and they went inside. She dug into her bag to find the e-tickets for their return flight Nick kept his hand on her uninjured arm while he took the tickets from her, scanned them, and pulled off the boarding passes after they printed. “Where to?”

“Boston Landing has shops. I should be able to get some shoes once stores open.” Their flight out was early, but still hours away.

“All right.” Nick scrubbed his hands over his face. “Let’s use the bathroom and get some coffee.”

Quinn grinned. “You gonna follow me into the ladies’ room?”

“Don’t tempt me. Keep your phone ready to beep me.” He watched her go into the restroom. Quinn would have been amused if it hadn’t been so reassuring.

She used the much-needed facilities first, then washed her arm without removing the Band-Aids. The cut looked raw and fresh but didn’t bleed again. She took the time to brush her teeth, wash her face, and comb her hair, which didn’t look even close to perfect, no matter what Nick had said last night. With the travel and the sweat from running, not to mention sleeping on it twice, her hair had become lank and uncooperative. She twisted it on top of her head and anchored it with a clip. It didn’t help much. It was oh-god-thirty in the morning, and she looked like death, but she had no power to fix it, not even the mundane cosmetic kind. Her head throbbed in time with her arm, from the combined aftermath of the high-pitched scream and the emotions of fight-or-flight.

She braced her hands on the sink top and blew out a long breath. She was avoiding the important thing, which was that in all the years Nick had been her protector, this was the first time since her parents died that she felt like she needed one. She didn’t like it. Whoever had attacked them, whatever their goal, they’d made her a target. Worse, everyone around her was now in danger. All from asking a few questions. It could be the leech, but that didn’t make sense. No matter what he could have wanted from tonight’s attack, these methods wouldn’t have gotten him any power.

Maybe she wasn’t the target. It could have been someone hunting Nick because of the rogue thing, but that didn’t make much more sense. Which brought her back to the questions they were asking. They had to be getting too close to something. How far would this person go to stop them or get what they wanted from her? And who was it? The Society? They wouldn’t want the public to find out about the leech, increasing the danger to their goddesses. But it wasn’t like Quinn had threatened to go to the media. She was just trying to help.

No, the only thing that did make sense was family. Alana’s comments assured her of that much.

Quinn raised her head to face her reflection. Her mouth firmed and her eyes hardened. The vibrations inside her, generated now by tension, subsided under the pressure of resolve. She didn’t care what they wanted or who they were. They weren’t going to get it, and there would be no collateral damage. Sam’s face flashed into her mind, followed by her staff at the bar. Her clients.

Nick.

No, she wouldn’t allow the leech or the Society or anyone to harm the people she cared about.

She tossed her stuff back into her bag and strode onto the concourse. Nick stopped midpace, his glower fading as she neared. Okay, so maybe Nick would do the not-allowing. That was his job. But she wouldn’t play the helpless female. She was a goddess, for cripes sake.

They found a small table outside a coffee shop with no other customers and very sparse foot traffic. Nick allowed Quinn to sit a few feet away while he bought lattes at the counter. His movements smooth and easy, he pulled money out of his wallet and said something that made the barista laugh, but he never stopped surveying the area, shifting his weight to give him different views of the concourse and the sitting area.

Nick lifted his loose flannel shirt to tuck his wallet back in his pocket, and Quinn’s mouth went dry. His ass was as spectacular as Sam’s, in jeans loose enough to run in but tight enough not to snag on anything. Desire, sweet and pure and normal, eased through her. She licked her lips, savoring the burn, the pleasurable ache. The moon lust had ruled her for so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to want someone because he was hot, not because she had to.

Nick chose that moment to check on her. Quinn ducked her head, not wanting him to see, because the last time she’d shown him her feelings, it had been a disaster. She pulled the printout from her bag to examine and managed to refocus by the time Nick set the paperboard cups on the shiny laminate table. It was only about two feet square, so when he sat perpendicular to her, their legs touched. She didn’t move away.

“Any idea who that was back there?” Nick asked.

Quinn sighed. “It had to be a goddess. I can’t see how technology could have been responsible for scream tones like that. There was no one inside the suite.”

“Could have been the leech.”

“I suppose.” She grimaced in doubt. “It doesn’t jive. What was his goal?”

Nick nodded his agreement.

“I don’t know who they represented.” She relayed her thoughts from the bathroom. “Could it have been the Protectorate?”

“Again, why?” Nick spread his hands. “We haven’t learned anything they’d want to cover up.”

“I know.”

Nick assessed her for a minute while she read some of the data, then shrugged. “Okay, so who can create scream tones?”

She sighed and flipped a page. “Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. Our abilities aren’t limited like that. We’re not X-Men.”

“What’s that mean?”

She opened her mouth to explain, then saw his face and realized he wasn’t asking for a definition. “It means I know half a dozen goddesses who could probably do it, and I’m sure there are many, many more.”

He frowned. “Could you have done it? Like, in your sleep?”

“Nope. Not even at full moon.”

He leaned his arms on the table. “So we need to look at this another way.”

“Not who could, but who would. Even if they’re working for someone else.”

“Any ideas?” he asked again, and she wished she could be as coolly rational about it as he was. They were talking about people she was friendly with, if not true friends.

She flipped another page. The printout held names, contact information, ages, power sources, levels of ability, and cycles. There were only about a hundred in-power goddesses in the country and she knew most of them, at least in passing. But as she skimmed the information, questions raging through her head, she couldn’t connect who might have the ability—power level, source, and cycle—with who might have a motive. Her tired brain couldn’t keep anything together.

“No.” She slammed the folder closed and cupped her coffee between her hands. “I can’t think. We’ll have to figure it out when we get home.”

“Can I look?”

Irritated, she shoved the folder at him. He ignored her burst of attitude, which made her feel petty. If he’d had more sleep than she had over the last couple of days, maybe he could come up with something.

A few minutes later, though, he looked disgusted and handed her the folder.

“I can’t make any sense of it. We’ll have Sam dig into it. He’s the analytical one. Maybe he can set up a program or something.”

“Okay.”

“Did you hear or see anything besides the noise and the book flying around?”

She closed her eyes to remember. She’d been dreaming, something vague and not restful. Then the glass shattering snapped her awake to the scream. Nick caught her. The book flew across the room, barely missing them. She’d looked for shadows or shapes that didn’t belong, but there’d been no way to hear anything over the noise.

“Nothing,” she said. “Do you think we got away too easily?”

“Sure felt like it.”

That only made it more confusing, but she couldn’t argue. “Someone strong enough to do multiple things, even as limited as that was—”

“That was limited?”

“A little noise, tossing a couple of objects around?” She paused when Nick shot her a look at her mocking tone. “Sorry, I forget you don’t see any of us with full access to our sources.”

“That’s kind of the whole point of my job,” he said. “If you can attack people, you don’t need us.”

“My point is, it takes a lot of effort to maintain the tone and still move things around. Someone that strong could have gotten into the suite without us knowing, instead of throwing out all those warnings.”

“So why didn’t they?”

“Good question.” She drained her cooled coffee and tossed the cup into a nearby trash can. “Because their intent wasn’t to harm?”

Nick didn’t look like he bought that, but he let it go. “How many goddesses can sustain a number of things at once?”

“More than half.”

“Still narrows it down a little. We’ll look at the list when we get back.”

A couple entered the sitting area, followed by a man in a suit talking on a cell phone. As early as it still was, the airport was filling up, and it looked like they’d have to wait until they got home to talk more. They went back to the shops and found one that carried Crocs. Quinn rolled her eyes but felt less conspicuous once she had them on and wasn’t walking around in filthy socks anymore. Then they found a drugstore for supplies and Nick cleaned and re-bandaged her arm and, without her saying anything, got her a bottle of painkillers.

They made their way to their terminal, and then the gate. Quinn was so tired by the time they sat down, she could barely keep her eyes open, despite the coffee.

“Come here.” Nick put his arm around her shoulder again and nudged her down onto his chest. “We’ve got a while yet before our flight.”

“What about you?” she murmured.

“I’m an expert at sleeping sitting up.”

She felt a soft pressure on the top of her head, breathed deeply the scent of warm man with a hint of leather, and relaxed. It should have been less comfortable than any other place she’d dozed over the last thirty-six hours, but she found that it topped the list.

Still, she couldn’t seem to fall asleep. She nuzzled into his chest a little. The heartbeat beneath her ear was solid and steady, his breathing so deep and slow it barely moved her head. A little while later, his voice rumbled as he called to arrange pickup of the rental car back at the hotel, then to update Sam.

“We’ll be landing around nine thirty, I think. Naw, the Charger’s in the lot. That’s not a problem. She’s exhausted. I’m okay. Can’t say I won’t crash when we get in. Did you find anything? Yeah, I know. We’ve got some information, might give us a little bit of direction, but not much. She’s being stonewalled. No idea. I think it bothers her a lot more than she’s letting on. Hey, are you related to Quinn at all? Cousin, even? Not even distantly? Hey, chill, I’ll tell you when we get there. Just trying to cover all the angles, dude. I will. See ya soon.” He shifted under her to replace his phone in his pocket, then stroked his hand across the nape of her neck. Her headache began to fade.

The next thing she knew, he said her name, a gentle murmur, an urge to wake up, and her consciousness rose to answer it. But she didn’t want to move. Her hand rested on his flat abdomen, her head in the hollow of his shoulder, with his palm on her waist. He surrounded her in a cocoon of warmth and musk. It might not be the only place she’d felt safe over the last few days, but it was definitely her favorite.

“C’mon, Quinn, they’re boarding first class. The sooner we get on the plane, the sooner we can get home.”

She smiled and opened her eyes. “That makes no sense.”

“I know, but my arm’s asleep.” He unwrapped his arm from around her and stood while she stretched and yawned. She reached for her bag, but he’d already picked up both.

“Homestretch,” he encouraged.

Quinn pushed to her feet with a groan. “Unless they’re waiting for us at the other end.”

His expression told her he’d thought the same thing. They joined the line and inched toward the gate, but now Quinn wished she’d planned ahead, preparing for the what instead of trying to figure out the who. Her little bit of rest was enough to get her brain working again. She snapped her phone open and hit the speed dial for Sam’s cell. He answered right away.

“It’s Quinn. I don’t have much time, so please don’t question or argue. Close the bar. Make the deposit and notify the staff they’re on leave with pay until I call them. Pack me a bag like I’m going on a long trip, then grab the schedule for the month and all your contact information. We’re going to have to cancel every appointment for the full moon.” He made a noise like he was about to interrupt, but he held his silence. She could hear his pen scratching. “Pack for yourself, too, and please get my flash drive out of the safe.” She tried to think of anything she’d missed. They reached the agent at the gate, who glared at her. “Go somewhere no one will expect. We’ll call you when we land. I’m sorry. I’ve got to hang up.” She disconnected and handed her pass to the agent with a weak smile. “Sorry.”

The sour woman dismissed her. “Next, please.”

They hurried down the Jetway and caught up to the line at the entrance to the plane.

“I planned to hit the road as soon as we got home, but this way is definitely better,” Nick said.

“Thank god for Sam.” She nodded at the attendant at the plane door, who smiled as brightly as the ticket taker had scowled.

“With luck,” Nick continued once they were seated, “the Charger will be where we left it, and no one will have tampered with it.”

Three hours later, they exited the warm terminal and stepped into the cool fall day. He stopped her as they approached the car, parked alone at the back of the short-term lot. The empty space made it impossible for anyone to hide or sneak up on them. It looked unharmed, but plenty could have been done to it without being visible.

“Hold this.” Nick handed Quinn his duffel and circled the car, peering through the windows and examining the chassis. Then he lay down and wiggled underneath, making his way up the undercarriage. Quinn kept watch across the lot, listening to the scrape of Nick’s boots on the asphalt, random clinks and clunks, and his occasional curse. After eight and a half minutes he dragged himself out the other side and dusted off his hands.

“Looks fine. Let me pop the hood.”

He took the keys from Quinn, unlocked the driver’s door, and pulled the hood release. Though he inspected the engine and checked all the hoses, belts, and lines, she could tell he remained aware of their surroundings. She probably should have been concerned about what he might find, but instead, she appreciated the curve of his torso over the engine block, the flex of his thigh muscles when he bent or leaned. For a brief moment, she considered dragging him into the backseat. The slam of the hood killed the fantasy.

Nick motioned for her to get in the car. “This looks okay, too. Let’s roll.”

A few minutes later they were on the road, heading north on I-71 away from Columbus.

“Where do you want to go?” Quinn asked.

He shook his head. “All the safe houses I know of are on the grid. We need something none of the goddesses or protectors know about.”

She hated that they had to cut themselves off from their main support system. That the system could even be their enemy. But since he didn’t have a place for them to go, she did. “Okay. Go west on Thirty-three.” She pulled out her cell and dialed Sam’s number.

He answered on the second ring. “You’re all right?”

“We’re fine.” The Camaro’s engine hummed in the background. “You’re out?”

“Yeah. I got everything we should need. Where are we going?”

“Benton Harbor.”

“’Nuff said. See you in a few hours.”

She turned off the phone to conserve the battery and slid down until her head rested on the back of the seat. “Take Thirty-three to Seventy-five north. Wake me when you need me to drive.” She fell asleep smiling at Nick’s snort.

…



Quinn woke when the car slowed. Less than four hours had passed, and Nick was pulling into a gas station off the highway. The windshield wipers flapped at top speed, sweeping waves of water off the window. The rain pounded on the roof, and Quinn wondered how she could have slept through it.

“We near Sturgis?” she asked, rubbing her eyes and pushing up in the seat, recognizing the wide, flat terrain as Northern Ohio. Her neck hurt, but she felt more rested than she had in two days. Nick looked weary but alert, and she wondered how he’d managed to keep going so long.

“Angola. Rain slowed us down some.” He pulled under the pump overhang and the noise disappeared. “You hungry?”

“I’ll go in.” She looked toward the convenience store. “What do you want?”

He narrowed his eyes at the store entrance a few feet away, taking a moment to study the interior and sweep the area before nodding. “Whatever looks halfway decent. Large coffee.” He leaned to dig his wallet from his back pocket.

Quinn waved him off. “I’ve got it.” She eased herself out of the car and stretched, reaching high and arching her back as far as she could without falling over. Her arm twinged, but the pain was minor. She relaxed and tugged her shirt down over her jeans, then glanced back at Nick, who watched her as avidly as Sam had the other day. A flush raced over her body, tightening her nipples. She spun away and hurried toward the little store. She’d better stop stretching with them around.

The store was crowded with people taking a break from the intense rain. There was a line for the microwave, so Quinn selected a few sandwiches that looked halfway fresh from the cooler, added two bags of chips and a can of nuts to her basket, and went to stand in another line for coffee. She hoped it didn’t run out before she got to it.

The man in front of her glanced back when she shifted her weight to look past him. After the first quick, casual glance, he took another, longer look, and his demeanor changed. She sighed inwardly. Working in a bar, a woman got a good education on the body language of flirtatious men. And sure enough, the words that came out of his mouth were, “Have I seen you here before?”

“Absolutely not.” She tried to hide her amusement. She had to look atrocious.

They moved forward. “I’m sure I have. I wouldn’t forget a face like yours.” Of course, he wasn’t looking at her face. She wished guys like him thought harder about this stuff. Standing here would be less tedious if he had a unique line.

“You’re up,” she said. He glanced down at himself, then frowned quizzically at her. She jerked her chin toward the coffee. “Your turn.”

“Darn, our fun is over.”

Quinn rolled her eyes and said nothing, standing back while he filled two cups. A woman by the front counter caught her eye. She glared at Quinn, who shrugged. It wasn’t her fault this guy was an ass, and an idiot to boot if he had a girlfriend or wife nearby.

“All yours,” he said, grinning wide. Quinn shook her head in disgust. He joined the woman at the counter, who laid into him. His voice rose in defense, and they were so engrossed in their argument as they went out the door that they almost knocked Nick over.

He stared after them, then narrowed his eyes at Quinn as she approached and handed him his large dark roast, black.

“You do that?”

“Hardly.” She set the basket on the counter. “And both coffees, please,” she told the cashier, who nodded and rang everything up. “All I did was stand there and try not to hurl.” She paid the cashier and accepted the bag. “I can’t help it if men are scum.”

“You don’t have to wear those sexy tops.”

She barked a laugh and went out the door Nick held for her. “My one-hundred-percent-cotton Walmart special?” She plucked at the loose fabric. “The one that comes all the way up to my neck? Yeah, real sexy.”

Nick opened the car door. Quinn slid in. He bent down and said, “Walmart knows how to do clothes that cling in all the right places.” Then he winked and slammed the door, leaving her laughing.

A moment later they merged back onto the four-lane divided highway, sliding between a couple of Toyotas. The one behind them zipped into the outer lane to pass, causing an approaching semi to lay on the horn.

Quinn jerked around to look when the truck honked, but Nick never flinched. “Traffic’s usually a lot lighter through here,” she commented.

“The rain always f*cks everybody up.” He checked the side mirror and blind spot and pulled out around the car in front of them, which had reacted to the horn by slowing to forty miles an hour. The rain was still coming down so hard, Quinn could barely see the farmland on either side of the highway. She was glad Nick was driving.

She waited until they’d gone a few miles and traffic thinned out away from the exit. The rain had lightened a little, too, so she opened the bag and offered Nick a sandwich. “Ham and cheese, turkey, or PB and J.”

“Ham. Thanks.” He set it on his thigh. Quinn pulled out the PB and J for herself and flipped up the little tab on her coffee lid to drink. Nick stopped unwrapping his sandwich and looked around, sniffing. “What the hell is that smell?”

“What smell?” She picked up the sandwich and sniffed it. “Seems okay to me.” She unwrapped half and handed it back to him. He smelled it.

“No, not that. Smells…sweet. Like an air freshener.” He looked at her incredulously, then quickly back at the road. Taillights flashed ahead of them. “You didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” She lifted her coffee cup to her mouth again and realized what he’d smelled. “Oh, my coffee.”

“What the hell? Did you get one of those powdered mix things?”

“No! I drained the dark roast for you. All that was left was decaf or French vanilla.”

He made a gagging noise. “Well, drink it fast. That crap lingers.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nick tore into the sandwich, devouring the first half in three bites. “How long did you sleep?” he asked.

“Three hours, fifty-eight minutes.” She opened both bags of chips and set one against Nick’s hip. “Why? You need to nap?”

“Hell no. But you’re not the most fun traveling companion.” He leaned forward and squinted into the rain. “Let’s play the alphabet game or something.”

Quinn finished her sandwich and balled the wrapper. “I’m going to check in with Sam.” She turned on her phone and waited for it to acquire a signal, then a little longer to see if she had any messages. There were two.

Sam had called two hours ago. “Quinn, call me as soon as you get this. It’s important.” He sounded upset.

The other message had been received right after Sam’s. “Quinn, it’s Alana. I heard about the…disturbance at your hotel last night. I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Call me.”

“Huh.”

Nick didn’t take his eyes off the now-crowded road ahead. “What?”

She told him about the messages. “How would she have heard about the disturbance? Or known it was our hotel?” They were rhetorical questions, so she dialed Sam.

“You didn’t tell her where we were staying?” Nick asked.

“I don’t think so. Hi, Sam, it’s me. Sorry I took—”

He cut her off. “Why didn’t you tell me you were attacked in Boston?”

Taken aback, she stuttered. “I—we—there wasn’t time. And it wasn’t really an attack.”

“Put it on speaker,” Nick urged.

She hated the way speakerphone made the phone mute whenever one side was talking, but she did as he’d asked.

“—inn, your hotel suite was destroyed. They called the bar. Katie put on call forwarding to her home phone in case some of the clients I canceled called back. She said they’re charging you several thousand dollars for damage to the walls and furniture. So unless you and Nick were partying hard, you were attacked.”

“Why else would we be on the run, Sam?” Nick interjected. “This can’t be a surprise.”

“I thought you learned something. I didn’t know you were in immediate danger. Why didn’t you go to the police?”

Quinn and Nick exchanged a look. “When we left the hotel, it was mostly noise,” she said. “I thought they’d know we left and stop. What was damaged?”

“The sofa in the outer room and the bed.”

“They were shooting blind,” Nick murmured. “Probably assumed we’d be sleeping that way.”

“And they didn’t have enough power to strike both simultaneously,” Quinn added, “because the bedroom was clear when we went in.”

“Not enough power,” Nick mused, “or inexperience using it?”

“You still should have gone to the authorities,” Sam insisted. “Someone should know what’s going on.”

“And tell them what?” Nick asked. “There was a poltergeist with a crystal voice? They’d never buy it.”

“They—”

“He’s right, Sam. The authorities aren’t comfortable with the whole goddess thing. The Society handles stuff like this internally whenever they can.”

“Except they’re not exactly on your side right now, are they?”

No one answered. He was right, and if there really had been damage in the hotel, it meant Quinn and Nick’s assumption that the attacker hadn’t wanted to harm them was wrong. She hoped her staff would be safe away from the bar.

“All right.” Sam still sounded disgruntled. “I just wanted you to know what was going on. Where are you?”

“A couple of hours out, with this rain. Are you there?”

“Not yet. I think I’m a little ahead of you. I’ll stop for supplies when I get to town. Any requests?”

“No.”

“Yes!” Nick shouted. “Something hearty! None of your roots-and-berries crap. I want— Jesus!” He wrenched the wheel to swerve around a tire flying out of the rain straight at them.

Quinn screamed and lost her grip on the phone, her hands flying to brace on the dash and the door beside her, the tire’s tread pattern burning itself into her brain before the Charger responded and skidded left. Horns blared and tires screeched as the cars in the left lane tried to avoid them and the ones behind responded to the tire. Metal crunched and Quinn twisted to look back. The tire had disappeared behind the sprawled vehicles, but a minivan was crumpled against the median. No one was in danger of rear-ending the Charger, and Quinn’s heart resumed its normal rate.

“What the hell?” She turned back to face front, swallowing against the metallic tang in the back of her throat while Nick slowed even more, taillights still flashing ahead of them, though traffic hadn’t stopped completely.

“Look.” Nick pointed at the source of the tire, an overturned Camaro half on the shoulder, half blocking the right lane. They stared at the smashed passenger side door and front quarter panel, the steam rising from the undercarriage, as they rolled by.

“Oh my god.”

“Is that—?” Nick started.

“Yes.” Quinn’s body had turned to ice, and she became intensely aware of the silent phone at her feet. “Pull over.”

It was Sam’s car.