Under the Moon (11 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Darn, our fun is over.”

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

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

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

“You do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Put it on speaker,” Nick urged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god.”

“Is that—?” Nick started.

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

It was Sam’s car.

Chapter Five

The true origin of our ancestry has been lost to time and secrecy. Very little is known about our beginnings, but it is believed we are descended from the lines of powerful humans who spawned the tales of the Greek, Roman, and Norse goddesses. Because our heritage is stuff of legend rather than true history, how we use our abilities is of utmost importance.

—
The Society for Goddess Education and Defense
booklet, “From Isis to Freya”

…

Quinn shoved her door open before Nick finished swinging the car to the shoulder in front of the overturned vehicle.
Nonononono. Not Sam not Sam not Sam
. She leapt out, skidding on the loose gravel, shouting his name as she ran in slow motion. Nothing moved except a slowly spinning front wheel. The rear tire on the passenger side was gone. The smell of burned rubber stung her nostrils, hot despite the cold rain. The car listed toward the road, the roof over the driver’s side mostly intact.
He always wears his seat belt. He’s okay. He’s got to be okay
. But raindrops splashed into her eyes and shadows blocked her view through the windshield. She couldn’t convince herself.

Nick sped past her. “Sam!” He slid onto the ground like a batter to second base, looking into the car. “Sam! Sam, buddy, can you hear me?”

Quinn landed on her knees in the sharp gravel next to him, desperate to hear Sam’s voice. But it didn’t come. He hung upside down in the car, his seat belt locking him in place. His hands lay limp on the ceiling and his forehead bled. “Sam!” She reached in through the smashed side window to touch his face. He didn’t respond. “God, Sammy. Please.”

“Let me brace him.” Nick grabbed Sam’s shoulders. “See if you can undo his seat belt.”

Panic fading, doused by action, Quinn flipped onto her back, squinting against the droplets splattering her face. Glass bit into her back as she dragged herself into the vehicle, trying not to brush against Sam in case he had a neck injury. They shouldn’t move him out of there until they knew what kind of damage had been done.