Heavy Metal (A Goddesses Rising Novel) (Entangled Select) (14 page)

Back in the first drawer she flipped through the files, checking the labels.
There
—her name. And…Quinn Caldwell. There was no file for Marley Canton or Alana Mitchell, and there were so many names she didn’t know that she couldn’t guess which files would be most helpful. She paused at Tess Canton. Related to Marley? Her mother, maybe? Riley yanked the folder and added it to the other two in her hand. She wished she had time to look through the contents rather than take entire files with her, but a sense of urgency pushed at her, and she’d learned the hard way to listen to her gut.

Voices rose in the hall near the main door.
Crap
. Riley spun frantically, but there was nowhere to hide in the sparsely furnished office except under the desk, and that would be stupid. The ridiculousness of the situation bumped the fear of being caught up to hysteria, but she took a deep breath to pull herself together and dashed through a side door without even checking to see where it led.

Just in time. She heard the office door open as she pushed the side door mostly closed. She couldn’t latch it without making noise, so she froze next to it, hoping they wouldn’t notice the tiny crack. She slowly pressed her arms tight against her waist so the chains wouldn’t rattle. They would obviously know someone had broken in, but hopefully they’d think the perpetrator had left.

The room she was in was narrow and didn’t have a door to the hall, just the one she’d come through and another directly opposite it. It must have been designed as a conference room between two offices, but it was completely empty. There weren’t even any marks in the beige carpet to indicate furniture had ever been there. Which hopefully meant no one would look in here.

“I don’t care what his claims are,” said a male voice. “He can’t prove he was on company time. I’m not accepting a worker’s comp claim because he can’t stay on his bike.” The voice sounded young and pleasant, despite his clear irritation.

“You need to talk to him,” another guy said. His voice was deeper, rougher. She knew that one—Vern. She wondered why they were continuing what sounded like an ongoing conversation and not discussing the break-in.

“Why?” the first guy asked. Papers shuffled, and a chair squeaked. “He didn’t do the job I sent him to do. I’m not placating anyone for bad work.”

“You should placate somebody,” said Vern. “Cal’s gone. Refused to stay after that woman balled him up in Connecticut.”

Riley covered a snicker.

“And Sharla said you’re not paying enough for this shit.”

“What?” The first guy sounded interested for the first time. “She quit?”

“This morning. Everyone’s bailing. How am I supposed to find Kordek on my own?”

A loud, meaningful sigh. “You weren’t supposed to be on your own. But you also weren’t supposed to lose her in the first place, were you? Why did you let Sharla quit?”

Vern snorted. “I’m not the one paying her. But my point is, you need to change your management style. I’m all you’ve got left.”

Interesting. But then the first guy said, “No, you’re not. I have an entire team across the country.”

“Theirs. Not yours.”

A buzzer prevented the first guy from responding. “They’re here. Go do what I told you to, and don’t let them see you.”

Riley listened hard, but Vern must have left the office silently. The chair squeaked again, and a drawer slid open, then closed. After a moment, rustling clothing told Riley other people had entered the room.

“Gentlemen! Thank you for coming!” He made more sounds of greeting, inviting the men to sit and offering coffee, which they declined in low murmurs.

Riley couldn’t hold herself back anymore. She twisted to peer through the crack at the new arrivals. By rocking side to side, she could move one eye past the tiny opening enough to see that there were four men total. The guy with the pleasant voice stood behind his desk, wearing dress pants and a white button-down shirt. Probably a tie, too, though his back was to her, and she couldn’t see.

Two men sat in the guest chairs in front of the desk, with another standing behind and between them. All three wore expensive-looking suits and held themselves like corporate bigwigs. The one standing was large, filling his suit jacket like a guy who went to the gym every day, but had a bit of a paunch. One sitting was overweight and balding—from what Riley could see, he was older, though her glimpses weren’t enough to be certain. The third guy was barely visible through the crack, one long, slender arm and leg was all she could make out.

The first guy greeted the men deferentially, by names she vaguely recognized, though she couldn’t say why. She grinned. The files she’d found might tell her something, but she had a feeling this meeting was going to make the entire trip worthwhile.

Chapter Nine

Energy is at the center of all life, of all cause and effect, whether natural or created by humanity. The form of energy that feeds our abilities is both precious and infinite, omnipresent and elusive, with the potential to be both beautiful and terrible.

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

“I don’t know if I want to do this.” Jennifer Hollinger wrapped her arms around herself, shifting from foot to foot. She watched Quinn and Nick with eyes that used to be dark brown but were now the color of coffee drowned in milk. They were setting up folding chaises and paperwork on the deck of Jennifer’s small house, which stood on stilts about a hundred yards from a tributary of the Mississippi River. The pungent odors of mildew and mud rode the warm breeze blowing through the trees.

Sam led her to the redwood porch rail and rested his hand on her shoulder, letting her look out over the water and trying to comfort her.

“I know the unknown is scary, but you can trust Quinn.”

She cast him a skeptical look. “I know why I’m first. She wants to test it on me before she uses it on her real friends.”

Taken aback, Sam was too slow to protest.

“Don’t worry about it.” She waved him off, then tucked her hand back into her wrapped arms. “I can’t blame her. I tried to get Nick fired or whatever.”

“She wouldn’t test on you,” Sam insisted. “You were the last goddess leeched, so it stands to reason you’d be the easiest one to restore.”

She shivered as the breeze picked up. “What about Beth?”

Sam didn’t want to tell her that goddess had died last year, of complications from diabetes. Her abilities probably wouldn’t have prevented her illness or death even if she hadn’t been leeched, but the idea would be in Jennifer’s head, anyway. There was already enough guilt and fear to go around, so he just said, “She wasn’t available.”

Jennifer nodded and watched a gull dip over the water. “Still, I don’t need this. I’ve adapted, you know? It’s been three years. I can live without it.”

But Sam heard the longing in her voice and knew she wasn’t going to convince herself. He murmured soothing things to her, about the ordeal she’d been through, about how being afraid was understandable, but that if she could be brave and trust for a few minutes, the reward would be worth it.

Under his hand, her muscles relaxed, and she leaned into the rail, her face lifted as if to catch the scent of the water. Sam could sense Nick and Quinn waiting behind them, but he didn’t rush Jennifer. They would have a better chance of success if she were completely committed.

Finally, she turned. “I’m ready.”

Quinn motioned for Jennifer to sit in one of the reclining patio chairs they’d set up on the deck. They wanted proximity to Jennifer’s source. Any flowing water might do, but the Mississippi River was her favorite, like a security blanket. It would be the first thing she’d reach for when her capacity was restored, and her affinity for it might help the restoration.

“Okay, first I need to heal the crack, Jennifer. The one that occurred when Anson leeched you initially. It shouldn’t hurt or anything, though you’ll feel it happen like healing any injury. Okay?”

Jennifer nodded and gripped the arms of her chair, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

Sam stood quietly while Quinn put one hand on Jennifer’s abdomen, the other on her head. Jennifer closed her eyes. Nothing visible or audible happened, but the look of concentration on Quinn’s face intensified, and something seemed to fill the air, like when a stereo was turned on but not operating. Jennifer gasped, and her eyes flew open, her whole body tensing, but then she smiled with wonder.

“I felt it close. I couldn’t even tell it was open before, but now that it’s not, I realize I was aware of it all along.” She leaned forward. “Wow. I haven’t felt this good in years.” She got to her feet and hugged Quinn. “Even if the rest doesn’t work,
thank you
.”

Quinn laughed and hugged her back. “You’re welcome.”

Jennifer released her and stepped back to the rail. “I can feel the river.” She turned her head and gazed into the distance. “And the creek. That’s fainter, but I know it’s there, ready for me.” Her brow furrowed a little. “But I can’t touch it. Like wearing latex gloves.” She turned back to them. “Let’s do the rest.”

“Do you need anything first?” Nick asked. Jennifer said no, but Sam knew he’d really been asking Quinn, making sure she was okay. But healing the rift had been easy for her, Sam could tell, and she shook her head.

Jennifer sat back down, and Sam went to the other chair.

Quinn explained, “I have to move the power into Sam first, and then we’ll send it into you, Jennifer. You ready?”

“Ready.”

“Sam?”

“Ready.” He adjusted his position on the chair and held out his hand. Quinn wrapped hers around it and closed her eyes. He didn’t know what he’d expected—a slow, tingling charge, maybe, or the sensation of light entering his body—but not this. Electricity surged through his entire body almost at once. It was the closest description he could think of, but unlike an electric shock, it wasn’t painful. Just the opposite. He bowed in his chair, his gaze locked on the sky, knowing he probably looked terrified but unable to convey the truth. His jaw tightened against the pleasure hitting him in waves.

“Now.” Nick’s voice came from very far away. As the surge from Quinn ended, Jennifer’s hand laced with Sam’s, and the energy drained out of him, into her. Unlike him, she didn’t hide her response to the rush. Her cry was joyous, ecstatic.

In a few seconds the transfer was complete, and the women both let go of him. Sam lay limp, panting and trying to get a handle on everything.

He caught his breath and his heart rate slowed until he was able to assess where he stood. And he could feel it, too. Remnants of power. No, he knew that wasn’t how it worked. Remnants of
ability
. Like Jennifer, he could sense the river. The awareness was fluid, silky, more than the usual senses. Deeper. He wanted to use the energy coming off the water, try to do something with it, but had no idea what.

Jennifer stood nearby, laughing and crying, a pebble in her hand. She held it up between two fingers, and it glowed red as she infused it with light energy, making it shine through the pigments inside it.

“It’s back,” she said. Tears spilled over and streamed down her face. Her eyes were darker, more naturally brown now. “I don’t care if I can only ever make novelties with it, but it’s here, in me. I’m whole again.” She looked at all of them in turn. “Thank you. I can never thank you enough.”

“We just returned what was yours,” Quinn said, and the strain in her voice had Nick and Sam both jerking in her direction. She held up her hands, subtly, so Jennifer wouldn’t see, and sat in a deck chair. “I’m so glad it worked.”

“Me, too.” Jennifer knelt at Quinn’s feet and clasped her hands in her own. “I’m so sorry. For all these years, I’ve hated you.”

Quinn looked startled, then resigned.

“I blamed you as much as I did Anson for all of this.” She took a deep breath. “I thought you didn’t care,” she continued, “that you wanted all that power for yourself and could give it back if you tried.”

Quinn’s body sagged, lines deepening around her eyes and mouth. Her exhaustion was as much mental as physical, he realized. No wonder she had refused to run for Society president when they first asked her three years ago. This had been weighing on her for years.

“I’m sorry, Jennifer,” Quinn murmured. “I should have kept better contact with you. I know what we did seems simple, but I’ve been researching it for a long time.”

“I understand,” Jennifer rushed to assure her, but Quinn shook her head a little.

“I didn’t update you, any of you, because I didn’t want to give false hope, and I didn’t want to be a reminder of what you’d lost. Of course you hated me. How could you not?”

She pushed to her feet, clearly shaky. Nick walked over and slid his arm around her waist, bracing her.

“We’re going to go back to the hotel,” Quinn said, “but we’ll check on you tomorrow, make sure everything’s okay.”

Jennifer sobered. “You mean, like, make sure it doesn’t fade or go wild or something.”

Quinn smiled a little and leaned almost imperceptibly into Nick when he tugged her toward the car. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Okay.” Jennifer turned to Sam. “Let me help you clean everything up.” She collected Quinn’s papers and shuffled them into a pocket folder, so he turned his attention to putting the furniture to rights.

As soon as Nick and Quinn were around the corner, when Nick probably thought they were out of sight, he swept her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way. Trying to preserve the façade of strength she presented, but taking care of her just the same.

Sam had a fierce throb of longing to be with Riley. She hadn’t answered when he tried to call earlier, and he’d turned his phone off when they got to Jennifer’s so it wouldn’t interrupt the transfer. He dug it out to turn back on, and as soon as it powered up, it rang. He grinned, anticipating Riley’s sweet voice, but it faded as soon as he saw
John W
on the display. For some reason, anxiety seized his chest. He tried to tell himself it was nothing, but John never called him to shoot the shit. He hoped no one had tried to attack Riley again.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sam. Where are you?”

He hadn’t told John exactly where he was going because they didn’t want word to get back to Tanda and Chloe until they knew this was going to work. “I’m on the road. What’s up?”

“I just talked to Marley. There’s some stuff you need to know.”

Sam leaned against the deck rail. With a tip of her head, Jennifer disappeared into the house. “What’s going on?”

“She and Riley went home without me last night because I was stuck in traffic. Riley had a tire iron and you saw her using it, she’s got some badass in her, so I didn’t make them wait. Then Marley called in the security team. When they got to her apartment, she said a mugger had tried to make a move on them but hadn’t succeeded. The team told me everything seemed fine when they left.”

Oh, crap. “What really happened?”

“The guy tried to take Marley’s bag. Riley stopped him and found a business card for Millinger in his pocket.” He paused. “Marley recognized the company name. It’s the same as Anson’s grandmother’s last name.”

Sam ground his teeth. “What the hell is he up to? Is he trying to pick a new leeching victim? Or looking for someone else he can coax to give him power, this time on an ongoing basis or something?”

“Sam.”

He stopped speculating immediately. That wasn’t all John had to tell him.

“She’s in Atlanta.”

“What?” He straightened and paced across the deck. “Riley? She went down there?”

“Marley said she was tired of being jerked around. She wanted answers. She was going in smart,” he admitted. “On a Sunday, with plenty of metal, according to Marley. She talked to her a little while ago, when she arrived down there. She planned to scout the offices. No reason to think she’s in any trouble, but…”

“She went alone?” Sam was seething now. “Why didn’t Marley stop her?”

He clenched his jaw in frustration and then sighed. He knew it wasn’t fair to blame Marley. Riley had a mind of her own, and he wished he were surprised that she took it into her own hands. But he wasn’t—that was Riley. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Do you have any protectors in Atlanta?”

“No. I know a PI in the same building as Millinger. He’s the one who was keeping tabs on our guy, but he’s out of town. I didn’t bother trying to reach Riley, since Marley talked to her right before she got there, and if she’s smart, her phone will be off. I thought you’d want to know what was going on.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Let me know if you talk to her.”

“Will do.” Sam hung up and stood in the breeze, his mind racing. He had to go to Atlanta. Getting there quickly would be a problem. The airport in Jackson was hours away, and by the time he was able to get a flight, he could probably have driven there. That would take at least six hours, and by then, who the hell knew where Riley would be?

Nick came back around the side of the house, his step faltering when he saw Sam’s face. “What’s wrong? Jennifer okay?”

“She’s fine.” He told Nick about the phone call. “I hate this.”

“Yeah, impotence sucks.” He laughed when Sam scowled at him. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Sam reluctantly pocketed his phone and helped Nick haul the chairs around the side of the house. “How’s Quinn?”

“Wiped out. It took more out of her than she expected. I think the fact that the moon’s waning isn’t helping.” He kept his voice low as he laid the chair in the Charger’s trunk, so Quinn, reclining in the front seat, wouldn’t be disturbed.

“I didn’t think she needed the moon anymore,” Sam said before he realized it was a foolish statement. Everything had changed as of twenty minutes ago.

“It’s still her main source. I think when she’s done with the transfers she’ll be tied to it more than ever. But she’s hanging in there. So far.”

They finished loading the car and went inside to find Jennifer. She was sitting on the sofa in her dim, cozy living room, her elbows on her knees, rocking with her clenched hands pressed to her mouth.

Sam hurried over to sit next to her. “What’s wrong?” She’d been all right out on the deck, but they didn’t know what aftereffects might hit.

“I’m fine.” But her hand shook when she raised it to brush her bangs out of her eyes. She laid the other hand on her stomach. “Physically, I feel fine. I also feel queasy, but not because I’m sick.” She turned to look at Sam, her expression frightened. “I heard your phone call. I didn’t mean to listen, but… God, Sam, Anson’s out there, isn’t he? He’s doing something bad again, and if he finds out I’ve got my powers back…”

He caught her hand in his. “We’ve got Anson under surveillance,” he said. “We won’t leave you unprotected.” It wasn’t enough to tell her that, though, and Anson wasn’t operating on his own right now. Sam took out his phone and called John back to arrange a protector for Jennifer. Luckily, there was one finishing an assignment nearby.