Under the Moon (Goddesses Rising)

Chapter Six

While you are exploring your abilities and your role in goddess and global society, please consider serving the community in a voluntary capacity. Board and committee service is an enriching experience for both yourself and those with whom you serve.The more you give, the more you receive in return.

—The Society for Goddess Education and Defense, Election Notice

…



Quinn awoke to the scent of nirvana—bacon and coffee. She stretched, lying in bed for a few minutes, imagining the scene outside her door. Sam would be at the stove, flipping pancakes and draining bacon. Nick would be at the table, drinking coffee and reading the paper. She bet they argued about what to do next. The problem was that they didn’t know who the enemy was or where to find him.

Her contentment erased, she sighed and climbed out of bed into the chilly air. She dressed in jeans and a cable-knit sweater over a T-shirt, then emerged into the main room.

And stopped dead at the scene before her.

Nick stood at the stove, the sleeves of his dark green Henley pushed up, a plaid apron tied over his jeans. He held a spatula in one hand and a frying pan full of pancakes in the other. Sam, about four inches taller, turned bacon next to him, while coffee bubbled in the old percolator on a back burner. He wore a blue long-sleeved T-shirt, and his apron was plain white with a ruffle around the bottom. The girlie-ness of the scene only served to make them both look more masculine.

Quinn could have stood there watching them all day.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead.” Nick smiled over his shoulder, the sun glinting off his dark blond hair and turning his green eyes pale. “Have a seat.”

Sam finished transferring the bacon to a paper towel-covered plate and set it on the table. He glanced up and frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Quinn smiled and moved to the table. “Just admiring the view.”

Nick snorted and turned back to the stove, and Sam shook his head at her.

“How are you feeling?” She sat and inhaled deeply. Her stomach growled.

Sam shrugged and nudged the bacon with the tongs. “Sore. Stiff. But mostly okay. How about you?”

“I’m fine. I can’t even feel the cuts.” Surprisingly true. She didn’t want to test it by leaning against anything, but regular movement didn’t hurt much.

“That’s my fine doctorin’.” Nick slapped pancakes onto the platter on the table. “Soup’s up.”

“Hey, Quinn.” Sam opened the back door, bent to reach something on the porch, and came back in holding a large silver dish. “What’s this?”

“Oh.” She blushed. “Sometimes people release dogs and cats that they don’t want anymore into the woods. When I’m up here, I try to leave food out. I kind of forgot.”

“Is there any food left? I saw a cat slinking around this morning.”

“In the bin behind the door.”

Nick crossed to the door. “I’ll get it. If you bend over too many times, you might pass out.”

Sam shoved him but came inside and sat down with Quinn at the table. Nick joined them a minute later, and they ate without discussion except for Quinn’s compliments on the food. When they were done, she cleaned up while Sam retrieved his laptop.

Nick, pacing, laid out the information they had so far. “The leech has hit two goddesses, maybe three. Someone says I’ve gone rogue—which hasn’t hit the Protectorate, by the way, since I’ve talked to a couple of people and they haven’t acted any differently.” He stopped next to his bag on the couch and dug around in it. “In the meantime, the Society is acting like Quinn is the one who’s rogue.” He pulled out a baseball and circled the table, now rolling the ball from hand to hand. “Alana alluded to a family tie, and Jennifer’s e-mail didn’t appear on the Society loop. Neither has anything else since the leech hit.”

“As if the Society is trying to contain it,” Sam said. He typed something on the computer. “They work hard to keep public perception positive and not overblown. If people found out goddesses can bestow power…” He shook his head at the implications.

“So it could have been the Society at the hotel and on the highway,” Quinn offered from the sink. She rinsed the silverware in her hand and dumped it in the drainer. “If they think our efforts to find the leech are going to endanger everyone.”

Sam scowled. “You mean like trying to deter us but not kill us.”

“Right. I mean, we don’t know what the security team knows and is already doing. Because they won’t tell us.” She threw a spatula into the drainer. “Or it could be the Protectorate,” she suggested, watching Nick’s expression darken. “They don’t have the manpower to protect every goddess, do they?”

He shook his head. “But they’re not going to violate everything they were created for just to cover their asses.”

Neither would the Society, but instead of bickering, Quinn focused on scrubbing scorched butter out of the pancake pan. “None of that factors in the family-tie thing, anyway.”

“So maybe…”

Quinn whirled on Sam when he trailed off. “Go ahead, say it. That’s where this is going. I can’t hide from it forever.”

He sighed and closed the laptop. “Maybe the goddess who created the leech is related to you.”

Quinn squeezed the sponge in her fist, heedless of the water dripping to the floor. “Yeah. That seems most logical, right? Good thing I never tried to become part of the family.”

Sam moved away from the personal. “Why doesn’t it happen more? Goddesses giving other people power.”

Nick shrugged. “It’s hard, and damages her. It would upset the balance, both in the goddess and between her and the source of her power. And the result wouldn’t be worth it. No recipient would be able to hold on to the ability for very long.”

“Unless he started leeching,” Sam said.

“Wouldn’t that be almost inevitable?” Quinn asked. “I don’t know what would happen to him if he didn’t acquire more power, but it seems like it would be addictive.”

“So why would one of you do this?” Nick threw the ball against the wall between the bathroom and bedroom doors and caught it.

Quinn didn’t bother to scold him. She did not want to put herself in the head of someone related to her who would do something so awful. She pulled the drain on the sink and ran some water in the bacon pan to soak, keeping her head down so she wouldn’t see the silent communication Nick and Sam had to be exchanging.

Sam cleared his throat. “Let’s move on to Nick being rogue. You think of any connection between you and this Jennifer Hollinger?” he asked Nick.

Quinn hung up the hand towel and sat on the picnic bench, this time glaring at Nick when he raised his arm to throw the ball again. He scowled but gripped it in one hand.

“None,” he said. “I never heard the name before Quinn showed me her e-mail. I’ve never even been in Mississippi.” Quinn raised an eyebrow at him, and he lifted his arms in a shrug. “Well, I haven’t stopped. I’ve driven through.”

“Let’s see if we can find a picture of her.” Sam slid his wireless broadband card into the laptop. “Can we get a signal out here?”

“It’s not exactly wilderness. Should be a strong signal.” While they waited for the computer to connect, she added, “My property backs up on Sarett Nature Center. They own hundreds of acres, and there’s a good buffer of flood plain between us and the main educational area. But a few miles the other way is normal civilization.”

Sam clicked and typed for a minute, then turned the laptop to face Nick. “She look familiar?”

He leaned over. “Not a bit.”

Quinn moved closer. “You sure it’s the right Jennifer Hollinger?”

“You tell me.” Sam pointed at the caption under the photo. “‘Jennifer Hollinger of Vicksburg, MS, is a hero after saving four people from drowning.’ Some idiot drove through what he thought was a puddle and was really a flooded creek. She diverted the water so they could get out of the car before it filled.”

“That’s her. She looks different, but I think she dyed her hair. I’ve only seen her a couple of times, though.” She pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket and turned it on. “I’m going to see if Alana found out anything.”

The guys talked quietly at the table while she called Alana. Her tone was guarded, but at least she hadn’t sent her to voice mail.

“You didn’t call me back,” Alana accused.

“I totally forgot. I’m sorry. Sam was in an accident.”

“Oh! Is he okay?”

“Yes, we all are. Thank you for calling to check. The thing at the hotel must have happened after we left.” After Alana made appropriate commiserating sounds, Quinn asked about Jennifer.

“She wasn’t at home. They’re still looking,” Alana admitted.

That was not a good answer. Quinn had the dreadful sense that it was too late. “What about the leech?”

“Nothing I can report.” Alana’s tone had grown progressively colder.

“How are Tanda and Chloe?”

“How do you think they are?” she snapped. “I have work to do.” She hung up.

Quinn sighed. The guys stopped talking.

“Nothing.” Except ever-worsening relations with the Society. She kept her head bent as she tried Tanda’s number. It still went to voice mail without ringing. This time, she left a lame message asking how she was and tried Chloe, whose phone rang half a dozen times and disconnected. Not even voice mail.

She’d never been in a situation like this. She’d been a part of things in some capacity—from committee member to board member—going all the way back to high school, before she got her power. More than shut out, she felt discarded. It was almost worse than being left by her birth parents, because this time she’d belonged before they rejected her.

She shoved the phone back into her pocket and tuned in to Sam asking Nick how else they could investigate the rogue accusation.

“We’re at a dead end,” Nick insisted. “Until we can get something from Jennifer, there’s nada.”

“All right. Moving back to you.” Sam turned to Quinn. “Family ties.”

She shifted to her right as Nick joined them at the table. He sat on her left, his right leg bouncing so fast it shook the floorboards. She touched his knee, and he stopped.

“It has to be my birth family.” She straightened her spine and her heart. Enough avoidance and hand-wringing. Those people weren’t hers, both by their choice and her own. If one of them was stupid or evil or deluded or whatever she’d have to be to create a leech, so what? It just meant Quinn—with Sam’s brain and Nick’s badass-ness—had more reason than anyone to track them down and put an end to this, before they got to any other goddess.

“I don’t know anything about them, besides the little they left for me when I was eight.”

“So Alana could have been referring to your mother,” Sam said.

“Or aunts, cousins, siblings. I have no idea.”

“Okay then.” He flexed his fingers, his expression intent. “Let’s find out who’s out there.”

He looked at Quinn expectantly, but she had nothing to offer. No names, not even physical descriptions because her memories were too vague. She didn’t know what her mother had done with her original adoption paperwork. She hadn’t found anything naming her birth parents when she went through her mother’s things after the funeral. The realization set her adrift, and the loneliness that permeated her twelve years ago threatened to swamp her again.

Nick’s hand rested on her knee, tethering her, reminding her that she wasn’t alone and never had been. She rested her hand on his for a second before he withdrew it.

“Nick can get you started,” she told Sam. “He apparently researched me before we even met.”

Nick shifted and grimaced. “I told you, it was a training assignment.”

“But you did it, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And did you compare all your other training assignments to your family tree?”

His cheekbones went dusky red. “Uh, no.”

“I rest my case.”

“What case is that, exactly?” His eyes sparkled at her, as much gold as green now. Quinn smiled at him.

Sam snickered. “Give me what you’ve got.” He tossed a pad and pen across the table. Nick scribbled a few things down and tossed it back, along with a look of warning that Sam ignored.

“It was a long time ago,” Nick said. “Most of what I know is outdated.”

“It’s a start.” Sam squinted at the paper. “Is this a Z?”

“Is your vision fuzzy again?” Quinn asked, worried.

But Sam scowled at Nick. “No. His handwriting sucks.”

“You’ve gone soft,” Nick shot back at him. “Too much word processing. Have you reached Tanda or Chloe?” he asked Quinn, who shook her head. “I think we should go see Tanda. Talk to her in person, find out what happened, what she knows.”

“I’d like to check on her,” Quinn agreed. “We can get a flight out of Kalamazoo—”

“You’re leaving again?” Sam asked.

“It’s just for a couple of days,” Quinn said.

“More than that.” Nick stood. “That’s a couple thousand miles.”

“We’re not going to drive.” She laughed.

“Oh, yes, we are. It’s not negotiable. Driving, we’re off the grid and have room to maneuver.” He grabbed his coat off the wall peg and shrugged it on. “We’re past last quarter—”

“Which makes me as safe from the leech as I’m going to be.” Quinn stood.

“—and someone wants you neutralized. We don’t know who. I’m not taking chances.” He straightened his collar and looked at Sam. “You can come with us.”

“Oh, gee, can I?”

“You have a wireless card, right? You can do all that mumbo jumbo”—Nick waved a finger at the computer—“on the road.”

Quinn gave in. Add Nick’s valid points to Sam’s ability to do nonstop research, and she didn’t stand a chance.

Sam printed maps of their route as backup to Nick’s road knowledge and the unreliability of GPS—enduring with stoic silence Nick’s harassment for packing a printer. Quinn and Nick gathered their things and loaded the car. When they were ready to go, Sam handed the folder of printouts to Quinn and his duffel to Nick to put in the trunk, before lowering his computer satchel through the window into the backseat.

“I plotted a route that detours south. It’ll take us longer, but we need cash, and ATMs have transaction limits. There’s a branch of the bar’s bank right off the highway, and we can go to the teller. We’ll come back north to I-80.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Nick slid into the car. Quinn held the seat forward for Sam, who crawled into the back. She settled into the front and looked back at the cabin as they rolled down the needle-strewn driveway to the street.

There was nothing wrong with their plan, and she was not the type to hole up while events surged on without her. But something in her wished she could go back inside and curl up under her quilt for a few more days.

It’s just the new moon, she told herself, but she called bullshit right away. Yeah, she was as close to normal as she could get during the new moon, and powerless longer than most other goddesses who had control over access to their source, but she’d dealt with that for seventeen years, for cripes sake. But if the moon were full, they could draw the leech to them, instead of chasing a phantom. She grinned, picturing Nick’s reaction if she suggested such a thing.

Nick slipped a CD into the console and hit the main road, settling on his spine for the long drive. Quinn glanced back to find Sam already plugged in to the broadband and engrossed in his research. She sighed and slid down in her seat, closing her eyes. This was going to be a long trip.

…



They reached Portland midafternoon on Tuesday and drove to the address listed for Tanda in the Society directory. Nick parked at a meter across the street and examined the entrance to the high-rise apartment building.

“Doorman, security desk inside, elevators recessed—no way to get to them without being seen by security.” He squinted. “Or cameras.”

“We planning to sneak in?” Sam asked from the front seat. He’d been testy for the last four hundred miles, a combination of confinement and his inability to reliably access the Internet.

“No,” Nick replied, “but someone did. Unless she knew him. Or is unusually trusting.”

“Maybe it didn’t happened here,” Quinn countered. “She has an office. Rainy Day Investigations.” Tanda’s source was rain, so she only worked on rainy days, and her strongest ability was reading human energies. She could follow the trail of a person’s energy if they were missing or help them find a lost object. Or more frivolous things, like matching a type of car or home or jewelry to a person’s needs. She could often tell if someone was lying or hiding something. Or…that was what she used to be able to do. To have it taken from her—she must feel like Quinn did during the new moon, only with no hope of becoming whole again. How much despair must she be feeling? Quinn wished it hadn’t taken her so long to get here.

“Let’s go find out.” Nick and Sam opened their doors. Quinn climbed out, then tried to push Sam back inside.

“You can’t come in with me.”

“What? Why not?”

“Tanda might still be freaked. She won’t want a crowd invading her home. She might not even want me.” She had never responded to Quinn’s calls or voice mails. “But you’re big and looming and that could be too scary for her.”

Sam scowled but got back into the car. Nick slammed his door.

“You either, Nick.”

He braced his forearms on top of the car and dropped his head between them, then lifted it again. “We gonna do this every time, Quinn? Not to leave my sight, remember?”

“I know.” She didn’t want to go in alone, but she was trying to put herself in Tanda’s shoes. She’d been betrayed, and a place she felt safe had been invaded. She might not want a whole bunch of people overrunning her. “But why would he be here? He’s already taken everything he can.”

“What about the goddess who’s already attacked us at least once?”

“How would she know we’re here?”

Nick shook his head. “She could have someone waiting for you in case you did come here. But it doesn’t matter. It’s my job. She’ll be okay—she’s met me before.”

Quinn was skeptical but didn’t argue anymore.

The doorman nodded and opened the door for them as they approached, but the security officer at the desk was less accommodating. He addressed them as soon as they walked in, giving them no choice but to approach the station. He nudged the sign-in book and lifted a telephone handset.

“Resident?”

“Tanda Wilcox,” Quinn told him and picked up the pen.

“Don’t—” Nick blew out a breath when she put her name in the book. She gave him a pointed look and handed over the pen. He glared and shook his head but scribbled something under her name.

The officer relayed their names to whomever answered his call and then told them, “You may go up. Ms. Wilcox is present.” He settled the phone onto its cradle.

Quinn’s shoulders relaxed, and she realized how worried she’d been that Tanda would turn them away. “Which apartment, please?”

“Twenty-two thirteen.”

“Thank you.”

He watched them all the way to the elevator and continued while they waited for it to arrive. Once they were inside Quinn breathed a sigh of relief.

“You didn’t put your own name, did you?” she said. She hadn’t clearly heard the officer’s mumbled conversation with Tanda.

“Of course not. I put Edward Halen.”

“I don’t know how you get away with that stuff.” She tilted her head to check the numbers flashing at the top of the car.

“It’s less obvious without the Van. You shouldn’t have signed your real name.”

“I had to. One, it’s forgery.”

Nick snorted.

“Two, how would Tanda let us up if she didn’t know it was us? One of us had to give our real name. It’s not going into a database,” she tried to reassure him. “Someone might find out later that I was here, but they’re not getting a signal now.”

“Unless the guard’s dirty and was watching for you.”

He had an answer for everything, and each one felt more like a shackle. “I suppose that’s possible.”

“Of course it’s possible!” Nick drove his hand through his hair, spiking it even more than usual. “You make it damned hard to protect you.”

Quinn’s eyelids prickled. She watched the numbers changing on the display at the top of the panel. “I’m sorry. That’s not my intent.” It wasn’t like she wasn’t afraid. Losing her power would be as bad as losing Sam or Nick. “It just feels more and more like imprisonment.”

Nick stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

She turned to face him. “It’s never been this way. Someone else—you—dictating my every move. Going to extremes.”

“The threat’s never been this strong.”

She understood that, and she also understood, deep down, that not all of the way she felt was about restrictions. She had no space. Nick was always right there, both closer and further away than ever. She was letting it get to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, softly. “I don’t want to make your job harder. I just want to comfort a friend and do what I can to stop the leech from doing this to others. Those are worth the small risks.”

The elevator dinged and slowed, putting an end to the conversation. The doors opened on a green-carpeted hallway with walls papered in textured ivory. The off-white apartment doors sported gold number plaques.

Nick glanced at the ceiling at both ends of the corridors, noting the camera domes. “Can’t see the angles of those cameras. Might be suspicious, my hanging around out here in the hallway.”

“We’ll see what Tanda says.” Quinn stopped in front of 2213. Nick rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall next to the door while she knocked.

Tanda opened it immediately, her eyes warm, her smile sincere. But her appearance took Quinn aback. Her brown hair hung lank on either side of her face, which was pale except for the very dark circles around her eyes. Her extremely light blue eyes. They looked bleached, and for a second Quinn couldn’t stop looking at them.

When she did, she realized Tanda’s shirt hung loose, though it was clear it wasn’t meant to be that way, and her jeans were cinched with a belt, bunching them around her hips. Oh, Tanda.

“Quinn.” She stepped out into the hall and hugged her with surprising strength. “I can’t believe you came.”

“I had to see you.” Quinn hugged her back, feeling guilty that it had taken them so long to get here, when Tanda obviously needed a friend. “I’ve been calling, but you haven’t answered. I was worried.”

“Bastard stole my cell phone.” Tanda pulled back and caught sight of Nick. Her face lit up, and suddenly she didn’t look so haggard.

“Nick, you scoundrel!” She tugged at his sleeve.

“Tanda.” He hugged her, too, and Quinn stopped worrying. Tanda had obviously had enough time alone, and she knew Nick better than he’d let on.

“Come in, both of you!” Tanda closed the door behind them, then engaged six deadbolts before leading them into the living room.

“You always have that many locks?” Nick asked her.

“Yeah, fat lot of good it did me, huh?” She motioned to the plum-colored love seat and plush chairs grouped around a cherry coffee table in a sitting area two steps down from the foyer. The grouping faced an expanse of windows and a sliding glass door to a concrete balcony and was lit with both tall black floor lamps and flickering white candles placed on small tables.

“Can I get you drinks?” Tanda offered.

“Water’s fine, thanks,” Quinn said.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Told you so,” Nick muttered as soon as she was out of sight.

“Shush.” But she couldn’t help asking, “How does she know you so well?”

Nick shook his head and sat in a fussy chintz overstuffed chair next to the love seat. “I’ve protected others at conferences or whatever, and she was there.”

Tanda returned and sat on the love seat next to Quinn, setting a pitcher of water and some glasses on the glossy coffee table. Nick leaned forward to pour for them.

“How are you?” Quinn asked Tanda, taking her hand.

“Oh, about how you’d expect.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t try to hide or suppress them. “It’s like losing a limb, I guess, or a sense. My life is completely different.” She blinked and met Quinn’s eyes. “Steve left me.”

Quinn gasped. “No way!”

She nodded and sniffled. “About a week ago. He doesn’t like the way I’m handling this, he said. Like I’m whining and feeling sorry for myself.”

“How dare he!” Quinn wanted to say the very essence of who Tanda was had been taken from her, but that would make her feel worse. “It’s not like being a goddess is just a job and being leeched gives you an opportunity to try something new. It’s not a layoff.”

“Exactly.” She took a deep breath and got herself under control. “Anyway, he blamed me for letting it happen and for how it changed our lives, and now he’s gone and good riddance.” She eyed Nick, her lips quirking in a sad smile. “You in the market, cowboy?”

Uncharacteristically serious, he said quietly, “No.” He didn’t look at Quinn, but a frisson went up her spine.

Then Tanda made it worse by patting Quinn’s hand and saying, “I know.” What the hell did that mean?

“Can you tell us what happened?” Nick asked. “Were you here?”

“Yes, which is why it’s so bizarre. Levon—the guy at the desk—was on duty but he never saw anyone. He doesn’t leave the desk unless his partner is there, and he didn’t see anything, either. It was a quiet night.”

Quinn looked at the glass doors. “What about the balcony?”

“We’re twenty-two floors up.”

Nick rose to look outside, but Tanda waved him down and said, “Don’t bother. It’s about two feet deep, just an observation spot. It’s not wide enough for someone to have jumped onto, and the way the apartments are structured, all the balconies are staggered about twenty feet apart.”

“They could have rappelled down.”

“Maybe, but again, unlikely. The couple with the balcony right above me was outside when it happened. They love the city in the rain. They said they saw the flashes of light down here, but before that, nothing. They would have spotted someone rappelling. Plus, if he came down the side of the building, he’d be wet. He wasn’t.”

“Okay.” Nick sat back in the puffy chair and crossed one ankle over his leg. “When did you know he was in here?”

“I was making myself some dinner in the kitchen. I remembered my cell phone needed charging, so I came out to get it and he was standing right there.” She turned and pointed to the center of the room. “The locks were still engaged. I could see them.”

“Only option left was that he was here before you got home.” Nick stood and went back to the foyer, opening the closet door to peer inside. “He could have slipped in when the guard was occupied or said he was visiting someone else in the building, then broke in here—those locks would be easy for him, right?” He looked at Quinn, who lifted one shoulder. He was probably right.

“Thanks,” Tanda said. “Like that doesn’t creep me out even more.”

“Did you know him?” Quinn asked.

“I don’t think so. He wore a cloak with a deep hood. The lights were off in here, except an accent lamp in the corner.” She pointed to the platform running along the side of the room, where a tall bookcase would have cast shadows from the lamp she indicated. “I didn’t recognize his voice, but he struck so fast I can’t be sure I’ve never seen him before.”

Quinn wanted to ask how he’d done it, but the words stuck in her throat. Nick somehow knew and did it for her.

“I don’t know.” The tears welled again. “He said something in Latin, I think, and there was a flash of brilliant white light. I fell back, then it was like he was pulling string out through my abdomen. It hurt a little, but even worse was the paralysis. I couldn’t move or yell or even think. There was more light, then blackness. I think I passed out. Next thing I knew, I was lying here in the dark, and I couldn’t do a damned thing.” The tears turned into sobs that she tried to muffle with her hand. Quinn moved closer and gathered her friend in, her heart breaking for her. Nick handed over a box of tissues.

Quinn imagined the scene, the sensations Tanda had described, and wished with all her heart there was some way to reverse the leeching, to drain the power from the leech back into Tanda. But she had never heard of such a thing.

“You said he took your cell phone?” Nick asked when he returned from prowling the rest of the apartment.

“Yes.” Tanda eased away from Quinn and accepted the clean tissues she handed her. “It was my only phone. I got a new one, but all my contacts are on the old one, and the backup is on my work computer in the office.” She smiled sheepishly. “I haven’t wanted to, you know, leave.”

“How come you didn’t cancel the old number?”

“The security team asked me not to. They want to monitor the phone, I guess, and try to track him through it or something.”

“Why would he take it?” Quinn turned to Nick. “That seems stupid.”

“He probably ditched it,” Nick guessed. “Took it to cut Tanda off, to delay the word getting out and stuff.”

The setting sun blazed through a break in the clouds, filling the room with golden light.

“Oh!” Tanda checked her watch. “It’s dinner time. You should stay.”

“That sounds great,” Nick said, imploring Quinn with his hand over his stomach.

“We’d love to, but—”

“Really, Quinn, I want you to stay. It’s been so nice having you here, and you need to rest before you hit the road again, don’t you?” She flashed a smile at Nick. “I know he won’t fly.”

“I would like to, but Sam’s waiting downstairs in the car—”

“What!” Tanda leapt toward the phone. “Why didn’t you say so? Oh, the poor boy. Where’s the car?” Nick told her as she hit some buttons on the keypad. “Levon, can you please have Beau do me a favor? Can you send him across the street to the black Charger sitting there and have the man inside the car, Sam Remington, come upstairs? Thanks, Levon. You’re the best.”

So the three of them stayed for a wonderful spaghetti dinner and conversation that avoided anything to do with goddesses. They left much later, after turning down Tanda’s offer to stay overnight. Quinn had been tempted to accept, wished she could stay for a while and help Tanda figure out what to do next, but two things made her say no. If the leech did target Quinn, it would be awful to have it happen here. And the best way they could help Tanda was to find the leech, so she could stop being scared.

They didn’t speak until they were in the elevator.

“Well, that wasn’t much help.” Nick sighed.

“We don’t seem closer to answers.” Sam leaned against the back of the elevator, his face pinched. “I know one thing, though.” His eyebrows came together over worried eyes as he looked at Quinn. “I don’t want that to happen to you.”

“Me neither.”

“Don’t even go there.” Nick pounded on the lobby button a few times, though they were descending smoothly. “It’s not going to happen.”

The problem was, if it came down to it, Quinn didn’t know how they could stop it.