Under the Moon (9 page)

—The Society for Goddess Education and Defense,
Goddess Source/Ability Catalog

…

Quinn shot off the couch so fast she nearly tumbled to the floor, her heart slamming in her chest, gushing aimless adrenaline through her. Nick caught her before she landed in the shards of glass that were all that remained of the coffee table next to them. The air vibrated with a ringing noise so loud she could see Nick’s mouth moving but couldn’t hear his voice. For a few seconds, the room swam and Quinn was barely capable of covering her ears to muffle the noise. He impatiently swung her up and over to a clear patch of floor, running his hands all over her, and she realized he was checking for glass. The noise must have shattered it, because no one else was in the room.

“I’m fine,” she tried to tell Nick, but she couldn’t hear her own voice, either. She tugged on his arm and he straightened, angling his body in front of hers.

Quinn couldn’t see the source of the sound, like a wet finger circling the rim of a crystal goblet, but far louder. Her chest heaved, and she searched the room wildly, desperate for a clue of what to do, how to act. Something black and hard flew toward them, propelled by nothing. Nick shoved her toward the floor, and it smashed against the wall over their heads before dropping a few inches away. A Bible. Someone had thrown a Bible at them.
Telekinesis
. The leech must have found them.

Nick grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the open bedroom door, away from attack. Quinn managed to grab her bag off the bed when Nick released her to sling his duffel across his body. He went straight to the window and began shoving it open.

Quinn slammed the door behind them, flinching as if something would hit it as she did. If this was the leech, where was he? In the hall or outside the building? Were they running into a trap?

It was a little quieter in here, and nothing else in the room moved. She stood, trying to catch her breath, to think. Nick said something, motioning, but she still couldn’t hear him over the roaring in her ears. The horrible ringing grew louder again, as if it had followed them. But there was still nothing to see or defend against. They had to get out.

Nick grabbed a chair from the corner and shoved it under the window. He grabbed Quinn’s elbow and dragged her to the chair. When he held up a hand, she nodded and watched him step up on it, push backward through the narrow opening and onto something she couldn’t see, and reach for her hand. She leaned out to look and saw scaffolding against the side of the building. She twisted to look up. There was nothing above them.

The ringing stopped abruptly. Quinn glanced back as the bedroom door flew open and smacked the wall behind it, but no one entered. She jumped onto the chair to follow Nick out.

“Let me go first.” Even in the sudden quiet, his voice was muffled through her closed ears. He motioned to illustrate his words. “We’re going to climb down the side, but some of the distances between holds are long. I’ll guide you.”

She nodded, impatient. He swung over the side and climbed down while Quinn scanned the area, even though Nick had to have already checked to be sure it was clear. She struggled to regulate her breathing and watched where Nick put his hands and feet before she followed.

She swung a leg through the window and grabbed the sill to lower herself to the scaffold. Pain shot through her right forearm. She gasped and let go. Blood oozed from a two-inch cut over the muscle, deep enough to hurt when she tried to use it. She couldn’t let it hamper her and grit her teeth as she began to climb down the side. At the
X
s between levels, she shifted to the left and slid down the sloping tubes, her palms stinging from the friction on the cold metal.

A few steps later, they were on the sidewalk. Both looked up, but the scaffolding was clear of forms or moving shadows. Her body sagged, her breathing and heart rate easing, and the sensation of something chasing them faded. Her ears were still closed in protection, but even that was easing.

“Nice job. Let’s go.” Nick ran down the alley, away from the front of the hotel. Quinn followed without question, pressing the hem of her shirt against her wound. The rental car was probably being watched. The attacker knew what room they were in, so he might know more. Even though someone could be in the back of the hotel as easily as the front, there were Dumpsters and pallets and darkness that offered more protection than the bright lights and tiny valet stand on the main road.

Nick let her catch up to him before they reached the back of the building. “Time?” he whispered into her ear. It was too dark for him to see his watch.

“Eight past two,” she whispered back. Nick’s arm around her waist tightened when her lips touched his ear. He turned his head back to whisper to her again.

“We’ll run, few blocks, cab, airport.”

Quinn nodded. Nick leaned to peer around the corner, then signaled her to move. They dashed across the rear alley and continued on to the next main street. After looking both ways, they turned to the right, which was better lit and had a bit of traffic. Dodging black iron lampposts and street signs, they ran, sometimes single file, down the narrow concrete-and-brick sidewalk for three blocks before they slowed to a walk. Quinn realized they were still—or again—holding hands, and she didn’t want to let go.

“You’re limping.”

She looked down. The toes of her socks were flopping. She paused and bent to pull them on tighter. “I didn’t have time to get my shoes.”

A car approached behind them. Quinn’s pulse sped up, and she braced to run again until she saw the green Metro Cab logo on the white sedan. Nick flagged it down, and they got inside practically before it came to a complete stop. As soon as her butt hit the vinyl seat, her body started to shake from the adrenaline ebb, the kind of deep shudders that weren’t visible from the outside. She imagined her face was as white as the moon, though.

“Where to?” The cabbie yawned, which wasn’t very reassuring, but the streets, while not empty, didn’t require rush-hour alertness, either.

“You need shoes,” Nick said to Quinn.

“Nothing’s going to be open around here. I’ll get something at the airport.”

“Airport?” Cabbie asked.

“Airport,” Nick answered, and he turned back to Quinn, immediately spotting the blood on her arm. “What the hell?” He grabbed her arm quickly but gently, lifting it to see better. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s not bad.” But she hissed when he probed it.

“You have a first-aid kit?” he asked the cabbie, who tossed back a white plastic box with a red plus on it.

“It’ll need better cleaning and a proper bandage.” Nick used a few antiseptic wipes to clean the cut and cursed when he could only find small Band-Aids to cover it. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be silly.” He looked so upset, even in the darkness, that she didn’t tell him about the deep throbbing pain. She’d get some painkillers at the airport.

“Did we luck into that scaffolding?” Quinn tried to keep her voice low enough not to be overheard.

“Sam may not be a protector,” Nick admitted, “but he knows what he’s doing.”

“But I changed the room.”

He shrugged. “He left instructions. Did you notice the room numbers?”

“No.”

“The ones she crossed off were one floor below the suite. I spotted the scaffolding when we first got in.” He looked down at her bag on the floor next to her feet. “What did you manage to rescue out of there?”

“Everything.” Thank god. “I only had the one bag, and we never got around to talking about the printout. It’s still in there.”

“Next time, bring extra shoes.”

“Yeah right.” She watched lights flash past for a few minutes. When Nick didn’t bring up the details of the attack, she guessed he didn’t want to talk about it in front of strangers.

The cabbie dropped them in front of their terminal. Quinn paid him, and they went inside. She dug into her bag to find the e-tickets for their return flight Nick kept his hand on her uninjured arm while he took the tickets from her, scanned them, and pulled off the boarding passes after they printed. “Where to?”

“Boston Landing has shops. I should be able to get some shoes once stores open.” Their flight out was early, but still hours away.

“All right.” Nick scrubbed his hands over his face. “Let’s use the bathroom and get some coffee.”

Quinn grinned. “You gonna follow me into the ladies’ room?”

“Don’t tempt me. Keep your phone ready to beep me.” He watched her go into the restroom. Quinn would have been amused if it hadn’t been so reassuring.

She used the much-needed facilities first, then washed her arm without removing the Band-Aids. The cut looked raw and fresh but didn’t bleed again. She took the time to brush her teeth, wash her face, and comb her hair, which didn’t look even close to perfect, no matter what Nick had said last night. With the travel and the sweat from running, not to mention sleeping on it twice, her hair had become lank and uncooperative. She twisted it on top of her head and anchored it with a clip. It didn’t help much. It was oh-god-thirty in the morning, and she looked like death, but she had no power to fix it, not even the mundane cosmetic kind. Her head throbbed in time with her arm, from the combined aftermath of the high-pitched scream and the emotions of fight-or-flight.

She braced her hands on the sink top and blew out a long breath. She was avoiding the important thing, which was that in all the years Nick had been her protector, this was the first time since her parents died that she felt like she needed one. She didn’t like it. Whoever had attacked them, whatever their goal, they’d made her a target. Worse, everyone around her was now in danger. All from asking a few questions. It could be the leech, but that didn’t make sense. No matter what he could have wanted from tonight’s attack, these methods wouldn’t have gotten him any power.

Maybe she wasn’t the target. It could have been someone hunting Nick because of the rogue thing, but that didn’t make much more sense. Which brought her back to the questions they were asking. They had to be getting too close to something. How far would this person go to stop them or get what they wanted from her? And who was it? The Society? They wouldn’t want the public to find out about the leech, increasing the danger to their goddesses. But it wasn’t like Quinn had threatened to go to the media. She was just trying to help.

No, the only thing that did make sense was family. Alana’s comments assured her of that much.

Quinn raised her head to face her reflection. Her mouth firmed and her eyes hardened. The vibrations inside her, generated now by tension, subsided under the pressure of resolve. She didn’t care what they wanted or who they were. They weren’t going to get it, and there would be no collateral damage. Sam’s face flashed into her mind, followed by her staff at the bar. Her clients.

Nick.

No, she wouldn’t allow the leech or the Society or
anyone
to harm the people she cared about.

She tossed her stuff back into her bag and strode onto the concourse. Nick stopped midpace, his glower fading as she neared. Okay, so maybe Nick would do the not-allowing. That was his job. But she wouldn’t play the helpless female. She was a goddess, for cripes sake.

They found a small table outside a coffee shop with no other customers and very sparse foot traffic. Nick allowed Quinn to sit a few feet away while he bought lattes at the counter. His movements smooth and easy, he pulled money out of his wallet and said something that made the barista laugh, but he never stopped surveying the area, shifting his weight to give him different views of the concourse and the sitting area.

Nick lifted his loose flannel shirt to tuck his wallet back in his pocket, and Quinn’s mouth went dry. His ass was as spectacular as Sam’s, in jeans loose enough to run in but tight enough not to snag on anything. Desire, sweet and pure and
normal
, eased through her. She licked her lips, savoring the burn, the pleasurable ache. The moon lust had ruled her for so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to want someone because he was hot, not because she had to.

Nick chose that moment to check on her. Quinn ducked her head, not wanting him to see, because the last time she’d shown him her feelings, it had been a disaster. She pulled the printout from her bag to examine and managed to refocus by the time Nick set the paperboard cups on the shiny laminate table. It was only about two feet square, so when he sat perpendicular to her, their legs touched. She didn’t move away.