Under the Moon (17 page)

The voices outside halted abruptly when she kicked her door closed. She surveyed the tiny, dingy room and its double beds. “Damn.” She’d gotten the wrong card. The room next door had the king bed.

Oh well. Served them right for acting like ten-year-olds. She wasn’t in the mood to switch. After she washed up and brushed her teeth, she unlocked her side of the connecting door and cracked it open. That would be good enough for Nick. Without bothering to undress, she collapsed on the multicolored nylon bedspread and fell instantly asleep.

For a while she slept soundly, dreamlessly. But then she emerged into a world of flickering, changing light and colors. Flashes of brilliant white accompanied screams she recognized, screams of other goddesses she knew, people she called friends. She tried to find them, to get to them, a solid, warm presence at her back that she knew was Sam. But every time she thought she was getting close, there was that light, the screaming, and it was too late.

Then she saw a shadow, a lumbering shape ahead of her. It was him. The leech. He paused, turned to his right. She gasped. She recognized his profile. She knew him! She opened her mouth to call out his name, but no sound emerged from her throat. He turned anyway, and she realized she wouldn’t be able to scream if he leeched her.
Sam
. She reached behind, but he was gone. She was alone now, in the dark, except for the leech. She didn’t fall, but she was suddenly on the ground. Breathing came hard. The leech loomed over her, his face the only thing she could see.

“Good morning,” Nick said.

Quinn startled awake so violently she knocked a cup out of Nick’s hand. It went flying, hit the table near the window, and splashed all over the drapes, chair, and floor.

Nick, sitting on the edge of the bed dressed in jeans and an open button-down over a white T-shirt, nothing like what he’d worn in the dream, stared at the mess. “Bad dream?”

“Very.” She rubbed her face and pushed herself up to lean against the headboard. The brightness of the room disoriented her and failed to banish the lingering terror. She had to fight not to scramble off the bed, away from Nick.

Quinn concentrated on her surroundings, feeling sick at her inability to conquer the dream. She was under the covers now, her clothes twisted and bunched around her body. The sweat drying on the back of her neck chilled her, and she hunched into herself.

The connecting door next to the bed was open wide, and Sam’s keyboard clicked on the other side of the doorway. She grabbed the little electric clock on the nightstand and tilted it toward her to double-check the time, the dream disturbing her so much she didn’t trust her internal clock. Eight thirty. “I’m sorry,” she told Nick, motioning to the mess.

“Better the mocha than me.” He handed her the other to-go cup and stood. “You can have mine. It’s not frou-frou, though. Just black.” He disappeared into the bathroom and came back out with an off-white hand towel.

“I can’t take your coffee.”

“It’s fine, I’ll get some down the road.” He bent to mop the spill off the warped laminate table. “Hey, this splotch look like a bunny to you?”

Quinn smiled a little. “I dreamed about the leech,” she told him. “It was you.” She watched him carefully, hating herself for it. But he didn’t freeze, or jerk his head around to look at her, or slow his movements.

“Yeah, that sounds very bad.” He swiped at the curtains, then half sat on the table and looked at her. “Is that something you’re afraid of?”

“No.” She didn’t hesitate, and the realization snapped whatever remaining hold the dream had on her.

But Nick continued. “It’s logical. I don’t have alibis for Tanda and Chloe. With the stuff we’re hearing—”

“It’s not logical. Not to me.” Dreams weren’t based on logic, no matter what part of a person’s subconscious fed them. And maybe a dream could have enough emotional power to influence her for a moment, but her conviction that Nick was not a threat, and never would be, came from something beyond influence.

Nick’s eyes had gone golden in the sunlight, and she could see the gratitude in them. Had he been afraid that she’d turn on him since this whole thing started? She wanted to get up and hug him, but it felt too awkward with Sam only feet away.

“So.” She slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom. “How did you and Sam do last night?”

“That wasn’t very nice, you know!” Nick called after her. She left the door cracked a little so she could hear him. “Sam snores!”

“I do not!” came from the other room.

“Do so. Like a hibernating bear with a deviated septum. And he sprawls. I had to sleep on the floor.”

“I’m a big guy!”

Quinn grinned. “You could have come in here,” she called out. “There was an extra bed.”

“Too scared!” came back in stereo, making her laugh.

“What’s the plan for today?” she asked around her toothbrush.

“Sam wants to do that business stuff he was whining about last night.”

Payroll was due, and they needed to upload a file to the bank so the deposits would be in her employees’ accounts on Friday. Plus, Sam was concerned about some of the cancellations for the next full moon. Two of her clients were cancer patients for whom all other treatments had failed before they came to her. She could heal, but cancer was more than just healing. If she skipped a month it might progress again, undoing all the good she’d done in past treatments. She’d suggested trying to hook them up with another goddess, but they had to find one who had the experience and lived close enough to cover for her.

“I’ll be in after I shower,” she told them. “Need to wake up.”

“Don’t take too long,” Nick warned. “I want to get back on the road by noon. And we’ll pay for an extra day if we’re not out by then.”

“No problem.” She took a quick, cool shower and changed clothes before packing the few things she’d used and meeting them in the other room.

“Here are the goddesses we can try.” Sam handed her a sheet of paper covered in his neat handwriting. “I’m almost done prepping payroll.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you want to do about the Society meeting?”

Quinn accepted the paper and picked up the garlic-and-cream-cheese bagel sitting on a paper bag next to his computer. “This mine?”

Sam grimaced. “It is now.”

“She’s a big moocher this morning,” Nick said from the corner. He tapped something out on his cell phone.

“Yep, that’s me. Quinn ‘Moocher’ Caldwell. I guess we should send Alana an e-mail that I won’t make it. I don’t think anyone will be surprised. Assuming they’re still holding the meeting.” Nonprofit laws required them to, but they could reschedule, and with everything going on, it didn’t seem prudent to put all those goddesses in one place. But it wasn’t her call, of course. The sense of estrangement didn’t feel as strong as it had mere days ago. Reconnecting with Tanda had helped, she supposed. Maybe reducing her involvement in Society politics would be good for her in the long run.

She settled onto the bed with the list and her phone to make calls. It took half an hour to find someone to cover for her. But she’d also gained some information.

“File’s almost done uploading,” Sam said when she clapped her phone shut for the last time. “I got a response from Alana.” He looked concerned. “She said it’s for the best that you don’t attend.”

“Great.” Quinn wanted to reassure him that she was okay with it, but it was time to move on. “I got Holly to cover for me.”

“Good. Mrs. Calebas and Mr. Dalini will be relieved. I’ll let them know once we’re on the road.” He glanced at his watch.

“But listen. That’s not all I got.”

Nick, who’d spent a little time watching the NFL Network and a lot of time pacing while they worked, perked up. “You got something from Holly? About what?”

“Jennifer. I asked everyone I talked to. No one’s heard from her and no one saw her e-mail.”

“That’s weird.” Sam frowned. His computer beeped to signal the file was done, and he started shutting it down. “Are you sure it came through on the loop and not privately?”

“Yeah, we’ve checked it three times,” Nick confirmed. “Goddess voodoo?”

Quinn ignored his quip. “Holly might be the last one who spoke with Jennifer. It was five days ago, and she said she’d sounded fine. But get this: She had a new boyfriend.”

“So?” said Nick.

But Sam got the implication. “The leech?” He slid his laptop into the case.

“Could be.” She gathered up her own things and slung her bag over her shoulder as Nick hefted her duffel with his. Sam glanced around the room as he followed them out.

“Holly said the guy sounded like the one Chloe had been seeing before she was leeched,” Quinn said when they’d reached the car.

Sam paused while setting his stuff in the trunk. “It can’t be the same person, can it? There wasn’t time between Tanda and Chloe to establish a relationship.”

“No, but remember, Tanda had a live-in boyfriend already. Holly said this guy Chloe dated traveled for work all the time, so he could have been in Oregon when Tanda got leeched. And he could have been prepping for Chloe a lot longer than we thought.”

Nick leaned against the car. “Want to head for Mississippi?”

“I think we should.” Quinn tossed her stuff in the trunk, and Sam dropped it closed. “Did they send a protector down there?” she asked Nick.

“We’re shorthanded. This situation has elevated the threat for everyone. They didn’t have anyone available.”

“Then we should definitely go,” Quinn decided, energized by the idea of action. “I don’t know for sure, but I’m afraid no one at the Society is doing anything, either. If she’s not already leeched, she might be in trouble. I tried calling her again, but she still didn’t answer. If the leech is stealing phones…”

“All right, let’s go, then.” Sam slapped his hand on the roof of the car. “I’ll go check out.”

“We need gas,” Nick told him. “Meet us across the street.”

Sam waved in agreement. Quinn got in the front passenger side and said, “Can I run in and get you coffee?”

“I would kiss you for it.” He rolled down his window and breathed deep. “I was going insane in there. But let me check it out first.” He started the car and pulled out to the road, letting two cars go by before roaring across to the gas station.

“You could have taken a nap,” Quinn pointed out. “Or come over to get another coffee while you waited.”

He gave her a “yeah right” look and peered past her to study the store, like he had before. “Don’t flirt with anyone in there this time, all right? I don’t need to break up a catfight. I’ll be right in.”

Quinn laughed and went inside. This time there were no lines. She filled three cups and pressed them into a cardboard carrier. The bell at the door tinkled. She glanced over her shoulder but saw only the clerk, slouched on a stool behind the counter, engrossed in what she’d bet was a skin mag.

She lifted the coffee carrier but froze when someone gripped her elbow tight enough to make her gasp.

“Set it down,” a deep voice growled.

She started to turn her head, but someone else grabbed her around the neck and squeezed. Before she could even think about fighting back, her vision went black from the edges in.

…

Quinn came to four minutes later, her head pounding and her mouth dry. There was so much pain in her neck she didn’t know how they’d knocked her out—if they’d cut off her air or used some kind of drug. She forced her eyes to stay closed, despite the desperate need to open them. Wherever she was, she wasn’t alone. Not in a vehicle, or at least not one that was moving. She was horizontal on a hard, flat surface. Something low, because the murmurs above her seemed high up. She inhaled slowly to try to calm her racing heart and smelled dryness, like dusty concrete, and motor oil. An impression tried to coalesce…tang like metal, stuffy heat…cars. The convenience store had a repair bay attached. She was probably on the floor in there. That was good. They hadn’t taken her far.

So where the hell was Nick?

“Not until she wakes up,” someone said. Her head had cleared enough to discern the words, though they were said quietly. “We gotta make sure she’s all right. I’m not takin’ her to the boss damaged. She’d have our asses.”

Another voice came from farther away, but louder. “Shit, that guy she’s with is looking around.”

Relief flooded her, but it was short-lived. If he was looking around, he hadn’t seen them take her. Knowing he was near, but not near enough, left her feeling more vulnerable than she’d felt since she came into her power. Even the friend’s abusive boyfriend who broke her arm hadn’t left her feeling like this. He’d been a known threat. Who knew what these guys were planning to do?