Under the Moon (36 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

“
Nooooooooooo!
”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Sam?” Quinn rasped.

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

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

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

The other was Sam.

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

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

“I’m so sorry,” Quinn whispered.

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

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

“He’s been Tasered.”

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

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

“Quinn, you’re tapped out.”

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

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

Chapter Fourteen

Even when a goddess’s power source seems unlimited, her own physical resources are finite. We encourage you to test your limits under controlled, safe circumstances.

—The Society for Goddess Education and Defense,
New Member Brochure

…

“…too much at once.”

The soft voice was Marley’s, Quinn thought, struggling up through fog. Then came Nick’s, harsher, skeptical, shaking like he was running on caffeine and fear.

“I don’t like this. That was too easy.”

“Too easy? You’re insane. Fran was shot, Tim has a broken arm, Quinn’s unconscious—”

“Not anymore.” Her voice croaked, and she didn’t think anyone would hear her. But a second later Nick and Marley both bent over her.

“How you feelin’?” Nick asked. “I gotta tell you, this fainting shit isn’t very impressive.”

Marley gasped. “Nick!”

“It’s okay.” Quinn tried to sit up. Nick supported her with an arm around her back, and she saw she was on one of the stiff flowered sofas in the parlor. “He’s right.”

“He’s a jerk. You saved us all and nearly killed yourself.”

She shook her head. “He’s right,” she repeated. “It was too easy.” When she swallowed, her throat grated like sandpaper. “Got anything to drink?”

Nick handed her a bottle of water. It was lukewarm, and she realized the lights were off.

“No electricity?”

“No. I think your energy wave knocked it out.”

“How long was I unconscious?” She swung her legs off the cushion and shifted so Nick could lean back next to her. The water, warm as it was, felt like silk on her abused throat.

“You don’t know?” Nick sounded incredulous.

“I—” She stopped. She didn’t. That was bad. “No.”

“Only about twenty minutes,” Marley soothed.

“How are the others?”

“Fran will be okay. She’s weak, but I don’t think she needs a transfusion.”

“Push fluids.”

“We are. Tim broke his arm. Nick splinted it, but he’ll need to see an orthopod. I don’t think it’s displaced.” Her face tightened. “I don’t have the healing power you do. I can’t—”

“I’ll take a look.”

“No, you won’t.” Nick looked weird, and it took Quinn a minute to realize it was worry. He normally hid it well. But not tonight.

“If I can help him, I will.”

“Quinn, you’re completely drained.”

“I’ll be okay.” That might be a lie. “I could at least check him, see how bad it is.”

She could tell Nick didn’t believe her. “What else?”

“Bobby’s fine. The attackers are gone, every last one of them.” Nick stood and paced a few feet away. “When I got you back to the house, they’d disappeared.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “No idea. They all puddled onto the ground when you did your major goddess mind-meld thing or whatever it was.”