Under the Moon (Goddesses Rising)

Chapter Nine

As a goddess approaches age twenty-one and discovers her power’s source and manifestation, emotions and hormonal changes wreak as much havoc as during puberty. Though responsibility for training new goddesses has traditionally lain with mothers and grandmothers, remember that support and educational materials are available through your local chapter or the national office.

—The Society for Goddess Education and Defense booklet, “Educating Your Young Goddess”

…



Quinn’s voice was steady when she said, “Tess Canton?”

The woman nodded. “Are you—?”

“My name is Quinn Caldwell. This is my assistant, Sam Remington. I’m your daughter.”

“Daughter,” Tess said at the same time. “Oh my god. Come in. Please, come in.” She spotted the Charger in her driveway and hesitated. “There’s someone— Is he with you? I mean…goodness, I’m all flustered.” She smoothed her hands down her pants. “Does your friend want to join us?”

“No, thank you. He’s fine out here.”

“I can’t believe—I never expected— Oh my Lord, I’ve got to call Ned.”

“Not yet, please.” Quinn reached out in panic, catching her arm. “I’d like to spend some time with you alone first. If that’s okay. And if this is a good time.” She closed her mouth before she crossed the line into babble. Had she felt steady a moment ago? It was gone already.

Tess’s eyes flicked to Sam, as if he belied Quinn’s request to talk alone, but she nodded without mentioning it. “Let me fix some tea. It’s nice in the sunroom now.” She led them to the room at the rear, through elegant, comfortable living space and past a formal dining room with a gleaming mahogany table. The sunroom was insulated and warmed by the rays coming through the skylights and glass walls. Quinn and Sam sat side by side on a cushioned wicker love seat, and Tess excused herself to make the tea. The tension snapped, and Quinn closed her eyes for a moment, knowing it would return with her mother.

“She’s pleased to see you,” Sam murmured. “And not very cautious. We could be anyone.”

“I wonder if she’s even aware of the leech.” Quinn glanced out the doorway to make sure she wasn’t coming back yet. “She wasn’t wary of you.”

“No,” Sam agreed.

But then, even if Tess knew about the leech, what mother would suspect her daughter, or the man with her daughter, even if she hadn’t seen her in thirty years?

Quinn looked around the room, focusing on the framed floral watercolors on the one non-glass wall; the smooth, expensive fabrics of the furniture and rugs; and the solid wood and glass coffee tables. Tess returned a few minutes later, carrying a porcelain-inlaid tray that matched the china teapot and three cups, as well as the small plate holding lemon cookies.

“I can’t believe you’re here. It’s been so long.” Tess set the tray down and sat in a matching wicker chair at a right angle to them. “Please, help yourselves. My hands are shaking.” She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off Quinn, and they shone with emotion. “How did you find me?”

Sam shifted forward to pour tea as Quinn answered. “Sam did. Computers can do anything, but you know that, right? Your husband is in software.”

“Yes, your father.” She looked stricken. “Oh, I don’t mean…I know your adoptive father was important to you. I’m so sorry about his death. And your…your mother’s.”

Taken aback, Quinn stuttered when she said, “Th-thank you. It’s okay. I think of you both as my parents, as well as the ones who raised me.” They’d been following her. They knew she was close to her father. That her parents had died, leaving her alone. So why hadn’t they ever contacted her? She couldn’t ask. That would reveal the twisting hurt in her chest.

“Do you remember when we came to visit you?” Tess asked.

“Acutely.”

“You were so beautiful, and so earnest, and I’ve regretted every day since then.”

Quinn’s lungs loosened. “Regretted what?”

Tess laughed uncomfortably. “Everything. Leaving you eight years before that, leaving you then, confusing you by showing up in your life and then not staying. But they loved you so much, we couldn’t even consider taking you away, and I knew staying in your life would make things too difficult.” She took a deep breath. “We found out the next day that I was pregnant.”

That answer eased the ache even more. They hadn’t chosen Marley over Quinn. They’d already decided to leave her where she was, where they thought she was happy and well cared for. And, of course, she had been. She couldn’t believe how much lighter she felt, having confirmation of what she’d always hoped.

“I just learned I have a sister,” she offered.

Tess nodded. “Yes. She turned thirty a few weeks ago. She lives in Maine.”

“Is she married?”

“No, much to my regret.” Tess looked uncertain. “Are you? Is he—” She focused on Sam, seemed to remember Quinn had introduced him as her assistant, and glanced outside. “Or—”

“No, I’m not married, either. I run my father’s bar in Ohio,” she began, and for half an hour, they talked business—Quinn’s, Tess’s, Ned’s, and Marley’s.

“You two make me look like a greedy old hag.” Tess laughed when Quinn mentioned that much of her work was pro bono or barter. “Marley is the same. She runs an inn and uses the crystals for so many different things. She can do only minor healing, but she’s got such a welcoming soul. She draws people to her and helps them find their path. She’s like a life coach.”

“Do you see her often?” Quinn poured them all a third round of tea. When she handed Sam’s to him, she smiled gratefully. He’d been a solid, reassuring support even though he hadn’t said a word.

“Not as often as we’d like, of course. She’s too many hours away, and the inn makes it hard for her to take a vacation or anything. We go up in the off-season, which is the same for both of us. Even Ned manages to get away then,” she added wryly, in obvious reference to his workaholism. She’d mentioned it twice.

“What’s she like?” Quinn asked. She held her breath, waiting for the answer. That was foolish, because of course Tess’s response would be biased. But she wanted Marley to be good, with an agenda that did not include overturned cars and hotel attacks. Or leeches.

Tess’s smile was proudly maternal. “She’s the sweetest thing most of the time, but so stubborn! When she was a little girl, she kept trying and trying to ‘get her goddess in her,’ as she phrased it. She collected everything, trying to find out what her power source was, which of course she couldn’t learn until she turned twenty-one. She nearly burned her room down when she tried fire. Flooded the kitchen hoping it was water. Piled rocks under her bed and crushed flowers all over her room. She even collected insects.” Tess rattled on, describing Marley’s affinity for horses and disappearing into a bedroom to retrieve the show ribbons Marley had earned in high school.

“She wanted to go away to college. Ohio State, in fact.” A cloud passed over Tess’s face, as if she’d thought of something she’d never considered before. “But…her father thought it best she go to Fairfield U for management—she always wanted to run a hotel.” Tess paused, her brows knitted.

It was the opening Quinn had been looking for. “Does she know about me?”

Tess refocused on her and looked worried. “Well…”

Quinn tried to hide her anger. She wasn’t here for a confrontation but for answers. “It’s okay if she doesn’t. I mean, I didn’t know about her.”

“We never told her. We thought it would be confusing and difficult…” She trailed off. Quinn guessed it would have been confusing and difficult for them, not Marley, and they hadn’t wanted their daughter to resent them for their secrets. Then, as time went on, it got harder and harder. She inferred it was the reason they hadn’t sought Quinn in her adult years, though she didn’t quite have the courage to ask. But she wondered if Marley had discovered it somehow. If she wanted to go to Ohio State to be near her big sister. What would be different now if she had, and they’d made contact in normal circumstances instead of suspicious ones?

Tess changed the subject, which drifted to her greenhouse and cosmetic work. “It’s mostly little things. I don’t advocate major changes. But sometimes the simplest adjustment can make life so much easier, especially for teenagers or people who make a living on their appearance. Like smoothing hair.” She smiled fondly at Quinn. “Not that I’d do anything for you now. You’re beautiful just as you are.”

Quinn didn’t care about stuff like that, but she flushed anyway. “Thank you.”

“How about me?” Sam spoke up for the first time. He fingered a small mole next to his mouth. “Can you get rid of this?”

Tess laughed. “As if you don’t know how much women love it. Don’t be silly. Those kinds of things add character and uniqueness to a person. We shouldn’t strive for some uniform concept of beauty. Here.” She rose and disappeared into the house, coming back a moment later with a photo album. “This is the kind of thing I mean.” She showed them a young woman with a major scar across her face. The before picture showed it puckered and reddened. In the after picture it was shorter and silvery, faint but still present.

“You couldn’t get rid of it completely?” Sam asked.

“I could have, yes, but we discussed it and she didn’t want to. I thought it was brave of her. A lot of people would have pushed for me to make it perfect. But she said it was something she had learned from and was an important part of her.” She flipped the page. A port wine stain covering a man’s shoulder, upper arm, and shoulder blade had been rendered almost invisible. A third photo showed a tattoo where he’d made the rippled edge of the stain a shoreline with a crab and seagull. She flipped again to a boy with a wartlike growth on the side of his neck, gone in the after picture.

“Some are purely cosmetic,” Tess admitted, showing them a girl with uneven earlobes. “But most are about self-esteem. Of course, a lot of what I do can also be done surgically.” She touched the wart photo. “But this is non-invasive so almost risk free.”

Quinn nodded, pleased that her mother had found balance between philosophy and commerce. She checked her watch, stunned at how much time had gone by. She’d learned a lot and enjoyed the meeting, but staying longer would waste time they didn’t have. Tess would still be here when everything was over. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We’ve kept you from work all morning.”

“Please don’t worry. I wasn’t going in until later, anyway.” For the first time in hours, Tess looked uncertain. “Will you…I mean, I really don’t have a right— But I’d like to know if you plan to contact your sister. Marley.” She didn’t give Quinn a chance to answer, rushing to add, “It’s up to you, of course. I want to be ready when she, you know.” Her smile was half wince.

“I do,” Quinn admitted. “But I have a feeling she already knows.”

Tess nodded with resignation and didn’t ask Quinn why she thought so, which meant her mother had been content to live in denial until now.

“I can call Ned,” Tess offered, “and see if he’s available to have lunch with you. If you’d like. I know he’d want to see you.”

“That would be nice, thank you.” Quinn stood, Sam coming to his feet behind her, and reached to hug her mother. “It’s been wonderful talking to you.”

Tess held her hard. “Oh, for me, too. Will you be in town long?”

Not if she was going to confront her sister before any other goddess was harmed. Not that she could say so, but thinking about it reminded her that Tess was vulnerable.

“I’m not sure,” she finally said. “I’ll let you know. Be careful, okay?”

Tess frowned, her fingers tightening around Quinn’s. “Of what?”

“Didn’t you hear about the leech?” Hopefully that sounded neutral enough. She didn’t want Tess to worry or ask questions that Quinn didn’t want to answer.

“Oh.” Her face cleared. “That. Don’t worry. the Society will track him down. Everything will be fine.”

That was a stupidly naive attitude. “Be careful,” Quinn said again. “I’m sure he’s charismatic and well-bred. Like Sam here.”

Tess’s trilling laugh tapered off as she crossed to the phone. “You’re probably right. And you’re sweet to worry. I’ll be careful.”

It wasn’t enough to reassure her, but Quinn didn’t know what more she could do. They waited while Tess called Ned at work and arranged for him to meet them at a restaurant in downtown Fairfield. Tess remained in the doorway, waving as they got in the car and left.

“That took a long time,” Nick griped as they turned onto the road. Quinn gave him quick directions to the center of town.

Sam leaned on the back of the seats. “If Marley has anything to do with the leech, her mother doesn’t know it. She’s kind of—” He broke off, shooting a look at Quinn.

“Naive,” she agreed. “She thought I was there to meet her, so I didn’t want to push too hard.”

“What’s your take on what she said about your sister?” Nick asked.

“She sounds…well, like she said, stubborn. Willful. Overly sympathetic to the fringe element.”

“Do you think she sounds like the kind of woman who’d create a leech?” Nick asked.

Since Sam’s jaw was close to Quinn’s ear, she heard his teeth grind together. She knew he thought the answer was yes but didn’t want to say it because she was related to Quinn. “From a neutral perspective? I’d think a woman who would disregard or dismiss the dangers of doing so would have to be stubborn and rebellious. So, yeah. Definitely the kind of woman who’d create a leech.”

Nick raised his eyebrows at her. “And?”

“And what?”

“How do you feel about that?”

Quinn sighed. “I didn’t even know she existed, and if she did this, created this monster who’s hurting people I care about and taking apart a life I’ve built—” She stopped herself and continued more calmly, despite the anger roiling in her gut. “My reputation has been damaged, and I’ve put my work on hold.” Not to mention the changes in her relationship with Nick, though it remained to be seen whether those could be considered damage or not. “I know no one forced me to investigate this, but even if I hadn’t, it affected me. I’m pissed.”

A Lexus pulled out in front of them, and Nick nosed the Charger into the narrowly marked space the other car had vacated. The big, silver-haired man who had to be her father already paced the walkway of the panel-fronted restaurant squeezed next to a tiny jewelry store. He peered down the street one way, then the other, then scanned the cars lining the curb. In a trench coat over a dark gray suit, he was exactly what Quinn expected after reading Sam’s report and hearing Tess talk about him.

“He looks nervous,” Nick observed, turning off the ignition.

“Wouldn’t you be, seeing your daughter for the first time in over thirty years?” Sam responded. “Want us to bring you a doggie bag?” he teased.

Nick didn’t joke back. “F*ck that. I’m coming in this time. I was going insane when you were in that house.”

They all climbed out of the car and crossed the street. Ned focused on them as they approached, and his expression lightened.

“Quinn.” He held his arms out to the sides, then enveloped her in a bear hug, sweeping her back to the last time she’d seen him. He’d done the same thing then. A little less heavy and a lot less well dressed, he’d smelled the same as he did now, and amazingly like her adoptive father. She blinked back foolish moisture and let him hold her at arm’s length.

“You’re beautiful. So beautiful. I knew you would be. And what’s this?” He let go of her with his right hand to offer Sam a shake. “Two boyfriends?” He laughed heartily. Sam’s chuckle was strained, and Nick didn’t even bother to smile when Ned offered him his hand.

“No, sir, this is Sam Remington, my assistant, and Nick Jarrett. He’s—”

“A protector.” Her father’s face went stern, but he shook Nick’s hand nonetheless. “I’m familiar with the name.”

“Oh. Good.” Nick raised his eyebrows at Quinn as they passed him to enter the restaurant. She shrugged. She had no idea if that was good recognition or bad.

The hostess seated them and they ordered sodas before perusing the menu, making small talk until the server returned. Once she’d taken their orders, the conversation went much as it had with Tess.

But Quinn had a much different feel with her father. The man clearly suffered no regret or reservation. He talked openly about everything and offered details normal adopted kids might want but that Quinn hadn’t thought of, like medical and family histories. She had cousins on his side of the family.

Those were all things she’d like to explore someday, but not now. The longer the afternoon wore on, the heavier the weight of awareness grew. She couldn’t indulge in the reunion any longer. So during a break in the conversation, she said, “Can I ask you something, Dad?”

The “Dad” was calculated but surprisingly natural. It didn’t feel like a betrayal of the man who’d raised her—he’d have encouraged it—and it put Ned even further at ease.

“Of course. You can ask me anything.”

“How come Tess isn’t more involved in the Society? I’m the board secretary, and I never saw her at meetings. We might have connected sooner if she had been.”

His groomed silver brows came together above his nose.

“I can’t say I know too much about that goddess stuff. I think maybe she didn’t want it to overshadow my career.”

A typical male-executive-type response. Quinn tamped down annoyance on Tess’s behalf. “What about Marley?”

“Oh, now, Marley is a different story!” His voice boomed around them. “She’s a rebel, that girl. Learned everything she could from her mother and her teachers but didn’t stick around long. Doesn’t like to be told what to do, is her problem.”

“Is it a problem?” Quinn asked, taking a bite of her excellent crab Alfredo.

“No, no, she’s a good girl. Likes to do her thing and doesn’t much care what others think about it. She runs an inn up in Maine—I’m sure Tess told you—but she probably didn’t mention that Marley collects misfits.”

Quinn stopped chewing, but because her mouth was full Sam was the one who asked what kind of misfits.

“You know, people who don’t ‘fit in’ to normal society.”

“Like goddesses?” Nick said.

Ned chuckled. “Some, but those who don’t fit into mainstream goddessing, either. But all kinds of misfits. Male, female, flighty, fruity, anal-retentive to the point of obsession. Anyone who doesn’t fit can find a place at Marley’s inn.” He set his fork and knife across each other on his plate and waved at the waitress to order coffee.

“How about a boyfriend?” Quinn asked.

“She wouldn’t tell me. I don’t have a great track record,” he admitted with a sheepish smile. “I chased away all her high school beaux.”

“I can see how you would be intimidating.” Quinn laughed. “I can’t help being curious about her life.”

“Of course, of course. Actually,” he said, pressing his finger across his lips, “now that I think about it, there was one guy last time we visited who seemed to hang around her a lot. More than any of the others. She didn’t treat him like a boyfriend, exactly, but he sure seemed enamored of her.” He gave a proud-father nod. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he courted her.”

He seemed kind of young to use such old-fashioned words, but maybe the corporate world had bred it into him.

“Do you remember his name?” Nick asked, and if Ned thought it an odd question, he didn’t say so.

“Arthur or Anthony…no, something stranger. Archie, Andre—something like that. It began with A.” He thanked the waitress for the coffees she set down beside him and Quinn—Sam had declined and Nick opted for a Samuel Adams. Then Ned frowned at Nick, and Quinn suspected the conversation was about to flip on them.

“You mind telling me what a notorious protector is doing with my daughter?”

“Notorious?” Nick laughed. “I don’t know about that. I’ve always been Quinn’s protector.”

“Why does she need one? And why you?” He eyed Sam. “He looks capable enough.”

Quinn only said, “I have a history.”

“I see.” The furrows in Ned’s forehead deepened, but he remained focused on Nick. “Why should I trust you?”

Nick thumped his beer on the table. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t.”

“What other goddesses have you protected?”

“More than half of them.” His tone had grown testy. “And there hasn’t been a single one of them harmed in my fifteen years of protection.”

“Impressive.” But he didn’t sound impressed. The waitress approached with the check and he reached out, but Nick intercepted it.

“I’ll take it, thank you.”

Quinn frowned at her father, unhappy with his attitude and not liking how close “notorious” was to “rogue.”

“Why do you say Nick is notorious?”

He shook his head, all his earlier affability gone. “We’ve heard rumors.”

“How? You said both Tess and Marley aren’t involved with the Society.”

Ned harrumphed and wouldn’t look at her.

“Where would you have heard rumors about Nick?” she demanded.

Ned muttered and evaded, but in the face of three unwavering stares, he admitted he paid attention to things.

“My daughter is up there in the woods with god knows what kind of people. I want to know who does what in her world.”

“Nick’s not part of her world,” Quinn pointed out.

Ned looked sheepish. “I have two daughters.”

Quinn sat, uncertain what to say. Both her parents had been keeping tabs on her. Tess understood about her adoptive father. Ned knew about Nick. But they had never contacted her, never tried to form a relationship. It soured what had started as a pleasant reunion—and Quinn no longer wished to push it further. For the first time, she considered that their lack of contact reflected a flaw in them, not her.

As they made their way outside, Ned patted her shoulder, ignored Nick, and shook Sam’s hand with his other one already in the air, flagging down a cab. The three of them stood on the sidewalk, watching his taxi drive away.

“I don’t like him.” Nick stalked across the street to his car.

Sam looked sympathetic but said, “I have to admit, I think you’ve been better off, Quinn.” He followed Nick.

She waited until he was halfway across the street before following. She agreed with them but for some reason felt compelled to defend her family. That wouldn’t make either of them change their minds, and the truth was…she would never know.

…



They were silent as they climbed into the car and buckled up. Quinn’s positive feelings of a few hours ago were gone, leaving a sharper loneliness than usual.

Nick waited for a trolley on wheels to go past, then peeled out into traffic. “Where we goin’?”

Quinn sighed and let her head drop to the back of the seat. “Let’s find a hotel for tonight. We can head to Maine tomorrow.”

“Not a chance.”

“Nick—”

“No, Quinn. There’s something weird going on here, and we’re not charging in blind.”

The need to do so burned fiercely, but she knew better than to react without planning. “So what do you propose?”

He pulled into the parking lot of a Fairfield Inn. “I need to scout Marley’s place first. Problem with doing that is leaving you alone. Daddy Warbucks had a point back there.” He stared out the windshield for a couple of minutes, clearly lost in thought, before heaving a frustrated sigh. “I need to do whatever’s going to keep you safest. Instinct tells me Marley’s deeply involved in all this, and she’s your sister.” He looked at Quinn. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to leave it alone at this point? Go back to the cabin?”

She smiled.

“Didn’t think so. I can’t be in two places at once.” His eyes met Sam’s in the rearview mirror. “You can protect her here. You’ve been doing my job three-quarters of the time anyway, but at a different level. And the moon’s nearly full.”

“Which will make her a more tempting target,” Sam reminded him.

“And more badass. I never had to protect her when she was freeing women from their abusers. Only later, when she didn’t have the power to use against them.” He shifted to face the backseat. “You don’t think you can do this?”

Sam’s jaw tightened and his eyes blazed. “Of course I can.” He leaned over the seat. “The local chapter of the Society is Chloe’s chapter. I think there’s a meeting in two days. Maybe she can take us. We can try to gather more information, see what everyone’s saying about you two.”

“That’s a good idea,” Nick agreed. “The leech would be stupid to go near Chloe’s at this point. The heat’s higher, even if to us the Society doesn’t seem to be doing much. He’s got to assume they’re watching her. Be alert, though,” he told Sam. “Whoever sent those guys to snatch Quinn aren’t as high profile.”

Quinn didn’t want to let Nick go. It didn’t make sense because he’d already been around far longer than she was used to. She knew how to say good-bye to him, for cripes sake. But it wasn’t just that. She was afraid—not for herself, but for him.

For no good reason. When he said no one had ever been harmed on his watch, he didn’t mean there hadn’t been attempts. He was a powerful protector, and no matter what someone was trying to do to his reputation, he was the least vulnerable of the three of them right now. Still, dread flared at the thought of him driving alone to Maine, where the culprit in all of this could be.

Nick’s hand landed reassuringly on her thigh. Quinn looked at him, and the intensity of his gaze locked her in place.

Sam looked back and forth between them. “I’ll go register us for a suite,” he said, climbing out of the car and striding into the lobby office without looking back.

Quinn put her hand on Nick’s. “Be careful.” The dread intensified into nausea.

“I will.” He tilted toward her, hesitated, then leaned over the rest of the way. His lips met hers with warmth and tenderness, a far cry from his last kiss. Quinn whimpered, a sound she couldn’t ever remember making before. He didn’t leave it at that but moved his mouth, tasting her, telling her what he still wouldn’t say, and her head spun. She felt like she was falling, but the world righted when he straightened. “I’ll call you.”

Moments later, after unloading Quinn’s and Sam’s things from the Charger, Nick was gone.

…



Their room was light and airy, a welcome contrast to the dim heaviness of the cabin and all the cheap, ugly motels they’d stayed in over the last few weeks. Once they were situated, Quinn needed things to be normal. She could still taste Nick’s mouth, smell his skin and leather jacket, recall the sensation of falling that was far too symbolic.

She hooked up her computer to the wireless network to download her e-mail. Sam set up his own laptop on the opposite side of the wide desk. Despite the decor, it was enough like their work routine to let her relax a little. She focused on the mundane routine of the Internet. Most of her mail was spam or short check-ins from Under the Moon’s staff. She skimmed vendor solicitations, a Liquor Control Commission newsletter, and a couple of client inquiries. Then one return address made her perk up.

“We might not have to track Chloe down.” She clicked on the message. “She e-mailed…” She trailed off when she saw the content.

Quinn :

I spoke to Tanda, who said you might be heading my way. I’d love to see you—everyone seems to be avoiding me. And I have to tell you something weird that happened, but only in person. Call me.

Chloe

She reread it aloud to Sam, who whistled. “Better call her.”

Quinn already had her phone out. “She gave me a new number. The leech probably took her phone, too.” She programmed the number into her phone and hit send. It was late afternoon, but the call went straight to voice mail.

“Chloe, it’s Quinn. I just got your e-mail.” Which she realized had been sent two days ago. “I’m in Connecticut now. I can be there in less than two hours. Call me back.”

“I wonder what she has to tell you,” Sam said. “‘Weird’ makes me nervous.”

“Me, too.” She scrolled through to make sure she didn’t have any missed calls on her phone. “I hope she gets the message. I’m worried about her.”

“I’m worried about you,” he came back quietly.

Quinn stood, leaving the phone on the desk. Any worry was unproductive. “I’m no more vulnerable than all the other goddesses and less than many, with both you guys on me all the time.”

“When we’re not, things happen,” Sam pointed out.

Quinn had to smile at that. “You’re not wrong.” She felt much better having both of them around until this thing was over. She had power, confidence, and the ability to take care of herself. But Tanda and Chloe had all those things, too, and it hadn’t protected them.

She turned and sat on the sofa, thinking. “Tanda said it was raining the day the leech came, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That makes sense, because he can’t leech power that isn’t there. But her power is much less predictable than a lot of ours. Why didn’t she have a regular protector?”

“I asked Nick. He doesn’t know much about anyone else’s schedule, unless a goddess is going to be left uncovered because of conflicts or something. There aren’t enough of them to assign one fulltime to any particular goddess, though. The ones whose power comes and goes most frequently and unpredictably don’t always have a protector when they should—like on a sunny day in Oregon. Too unpredictable, and without evidence of a threat, she might never get one.”

“And Chloe lives by the ocean, so she’d only need a protector if she traveled.”

“Right.”

“Same with Jennifer, with the river.”

“As far as we can tell, no one with a protector has been leeched, and vice versa. Where are you going with this?”

She didn’t know. It seemed like it should connect to the accusation that Nick had gone rogue, but how? Nick kept insisting it wasn’t important, but it had to be. And there had to be someone out there who could fill in the blanks. It frustrated her not to have anyone in the Protectorate she could ask but Nick.

Then she remembered. “Toss me my cell phone, will you?”

Sam obliged, and Quinn paged through the phone book. Somewhere in here was the name and number of a guy Nick had told her to contact if she ever couldn’t reach him. There. John W. She paused to consider what she was going to say, then hit send.

“Yo.”

“John?”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“Quinn Caldwell. I’m one of Nick Jarrett’s—”

“Yeah, yeah, one of his goddesses. I know who you are.” He sounded cold, and she cringed.

“Nick gave me your number a long time ago, and I thought maybe you could help me.”

“With what? Nick hurt?”

“No. I hope not.” There hadn’t been time for him to get hurt. But the foreboding deepened. “Are you with the Protectorate?”

“You could say that.”

“I’m trying to get a handle on this rogue thing. He’s obviously not rogue, and I want to know why someone would say he is.”

“What are you talking about?”

Oh, shit. She thought Nick had talked to them about this, or at least that other protectors would have heard about the accusation. She thought fast. “I just met my birth father,” she tried. “My birth mother is a goddess, but she’s not really part of the Society. But my father called Nick ‘notorious’ and was pretty hostile to him. I don’t know why he’d think such things.”

Whatever John assumed her subtext was, it seemed to ease his suspicions.

“Nick’s the best protector there is. You should know that, he’s been yours for, what, fifteen years?”

“I know, but in all that time, nothing’s ever happened. He sits in my bar and drinks beer.”

John laughed. “You only know about what you saw. His presence is exactly why nothing happened. Goddesses like you are constant targets, Quinn. He’s saved you and a dozen others more times than I can count on both my hands and feet. Twice.”

She’d had no idea, and it floored her to realize it. One day, she’d make Nick tell her about them. “So why would someone try to malign his reputation now?”

“Dunno. They’d have a hard time doing it.”

“Could it be a distraction?”

“Not a good one, since I don’t know what you’re talking about. The best way to distract Nick from his job would be to go through me.”

“Would saying he’d gone rogue do that?”

His voice tightened. “It would. I wouldn’t believe it, but I’d sure as hell recall him to find out why they were saying it. That’s the second time you’ve used that word. Why?”

If Nick hadn’t told his boss about it, she wasn’t going to. “My father’s reaction, that’s all. I think he was being protective, like he thinks Nick’s my boyfriend or something.” Across the room, Sam snorted but didn’t look up. “Thanks, John.”

“Let me talk to Nick.”

Shit again. “He’s not available. I’ll have him call you.” She hung up before he could argue with her and bent, pressing the phone to her forehead. God, she hoped that hadn’t been stupid. If John did a little asking around, he’d find out she lied about the rogue thing, and he’d recall Nick, and…she felt sick.

“Well?”

She sat up and sighed. “If someone’s trying to get Nick off the job or blamed for the leechings, they’re doing a poor job of it.”

“Unless they’re just getting started. We need—”

Quinn’s phone rang. She looked at the display. “It’s Chloe.”

“That’s what we need.” He smiled, but it was tense.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Chloe!” Her voice was full of relief and excitement.

“It’s so good to hear from you! I tried to call but—”

“I know, Tanda told me. A*shole took my phone, too. The Society’s monitoring calls, but I don’t think they’re getting anywhere.” She laughed, a brittle sound. “So, what are you doing? Do you have time to come see me? Or I could come to you.”

The last part sounded reluctant, so Quinn hurried to reassure her. “No, we’ll come there. I have plenty of time. Tomorrow morning?”

“Perfect. I know it’s silly.” She paused, and Quinn could hear the rush of waves in the background. “It doesn’t work for me now, but I don’t want to leave the shore.”

“It’s not silly. It makes perfect sense.” Even during the new moon, Quinn sensed it rising. Even when she was close to normal, she never felt like anything but a goddess. The idea of losing that froze her insides. It would be the worst kind of torture. “I wouldn’t dream of taking you away from it.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Great! Hey, is it okay if I bring Sam?”

“Of course. He’s always good for my ego. Thanks, Quinn.”

“You’re welcome.”

She quirked a smile at Sam when she’d hung up. “You’ll need to lay on the charm tomorrow. She can’t wait to see you.”

He didn’t smile back. When he closed the lid of his laptop and pushed his chair back to lean over his knees, she braced herself.

“What’s between you and Nick?”

Nothing stuck in her throat. She swallowed hard, then admitted, “I don’t know.”

He dropped his head. Quinn bit her lip, unsure what to say or why he was asking. She couldn’t measure the silence and like a fool, filled it.

“He’s always been my friend. My security. He somehow knows me without explanation, understands what I need and what I don’t. He’s fiercely loyal and defensive.” She stopped, struck by the realization that she could also be describing Sam.

He raised his head when she didn’t continue. “What happened that night?”

“When I was abducted?”

He nodded, and she studied him, again wondering why he was asking. But the pain she’d seen behind his eyes in the first couple of months after she stopped recharging with him wasn’t apparent now.

“Um…let’s say he was…upset.”

Sam’s brows lowered. “He didn’t hit you, did he?”

“No! God, no!” She laughed and passed a hand across her face. She never talked about Nick like this. “We…reacted…unprofessionally.”

He rose to his feet and stood inches away. Confused, Quinn didn’t move. He slid his hand along the side of her jaw, cupping her face and neck and stroking his thumb across her cheek.

“You never kissed me, Quinn.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I never kissed anyone else, either.”

“Because of the intimacy.” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t wrong. “Is it more than you can give?”

“No. It’s more than I can take.”

Sam nodded. “But you kissed Nick.”

Quinn opened her mouth but had no response. He must have seen them from the hotel office. Sam framed her face in both his palms, tilted his head, and lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was tender, loving, but nothing like Nick’s kiss earlier. A tear slipped out from beneath her lashes and slid down her cheek, then along Sam’s finger. A matching tear leaked from the other side. Sam released her mouth but not her face, and his eyes shone. Not with need or competition, but with regret.

“I love you, Quinn.”

She buried her face in his chest. “I love you, too, Sam,” she whispered, knowing he’d understand how she meant it. Sam’s arms came around her, comforting. Pure friendship. Quinn’s heart thrummed with her relief.

“Don’t give up on him,” he said. “It’s not the same. He loves you, too.”

Quinn backed up and palmed away the moisture on her cheeks. Nick’s story wasn’t hers to tell, but despite his recent lapses, she didn’t believe anything was going to change.

“I don’t deserve you,” she said instead.

He smiled crookedly. “Nope. But you do deserve to be happy.” He sat back at his computer. “Let’s talk about Chloe.”

Later that night, as Quinn lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her entire being seemed lighter. Freed from the burden of guilt over rejecting Sam, yes, but also hopeful. Which was stupid, because nothing had really changed for her and Nick.

They’d never discussed the soul-deep connection they’d made the first time Nick was assigned to her or the friendship that had deepened with every new moon. The heat between them had always been there, too, but never acknowledged or acted upon. The strength of his duty had always been apparent. But Quinn had yearned for Nick like a fish yearned for water. When she needed to recharge she chose men who reminded her of him, and the encounters always ended in disappointment. Sometimes, when she chose unwisely, they ended in something worse. Nick never knew.

One night about ten years ago, Quinn had built up the courage to make a move. Tension in the bar had been high, and a fight broke out at closing time. It was one of the few times she witnessed Nick in action. She wasn’t afraid to carry a bat into the fray, but Nick had beaten her there, landing enough blows to break it up and haul the main offenders outside. Then he’d cleared the bar and returned to her, fired up and eyes blazing with the strength of emotions neither one of them had ever acknowledged out loud.

And Quinn had taken a chance. She dragged him behind the bar and kissed him. He kissed her back at first, his hands tightening on her hips hard enough to leave bruises and ignite five years of banked passion. But when Quinn tried to take it further, he pushed her away. She stumbled against the liquor shelves hard enough to rattle the bottles. He flinched, but Quinn ignored the flare of pain, both where the hard shelves dug into her back and in her rejected heart.

“It can’t happen, Quinn.” His tone was raw and harsh, but she believed it was because he wanted it to happen, not because he didn’t.

“No other man measures up to you, Nick.” She stepped forward, and this time, when he lurched back, her heart broke open and bled. She didn’t move again, but she couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t give up, though bitterness coated her tongue and her words. “Believe me, I’ve tried to find one.”

He flinched again, to her gratification.

“I want you as more than this. I want to be more than a job to you.”

“You are,” he growled. “But I don’t have a job, Quinn, I have a duty, a responsibility that goes far deeper than a little bit of lust.”

Quinn gasped and backed away, raising a hand to stop him from saying any more. But he didn’t stop.

“You’re important to me. It would kill me to leave you to another protector.”

She sobbed a laugh. “Don’t say stuff like that. You’re making this worse.” She wished he’d come to her, hold her, reassure her somehow. But he either didn’t trust himself or didn’t trust her, so he stayed where he was.

“I’m being as honest as I can be. You—” He shoved a hand through his hair and gritted his teeth enough to make his jaw muscles flex. “You are incredible. The stuff you do, the people you help—you validate every choice I’ve made. Which puts me in an impossible situation. I can’t do it, Quinn. I’m sorry.”

It was the apology that hammered home the nails of his words. No more harshness, no raw pain, just conviction. And that was it.

Quinn hadn’t bothered trying to convince him that twelve weeks a year was better than nothing, or that she’d never find a man she could have a normal life with. She suspected Nick had hoped she’d find it with Sam when he came to work for her, and maybe at first she’d thought that, too. Instead she’d used him and risked the best friendship she’d ever had.

She rolled over and watched her ivory curtain go from glowing red to glowing green as the stoplight outside changed. A lone car drove up the road, engine whining slightly when the automatic transmission changed gears. She remembered listening to cars outside her apartment even when Nick wasn’t expected, hoping to hear the familiar purr. She didn’t know when that had changed. Maybe soon after she hired Sam.

Who had just told her not to give up on Nick, even as he finally gave up on her. Damn both of them for making her hope, anyway, after a decade of pining silently. No. Forget hope. Forget kisses and crumbling walls and the sense that freedom and love were attainable. No matter what, it wouldn’t happen.

She couldn’t handle that kind of pain again.