Under the Moon (10 page)

“Any idea who that was back there?” Nick asked.

Quinn sighed. “It had to be a goddess. I can’t see how technology could have been responsible for scream tones like that. There was no one inside the suite.”

“Could have been the leech.”

“I suppose.” She grimaced in doubt. “It doesn’t jive. What was his goal?”

Nick nodded his agreement.

“I don’t know who they represented.” She relayed her thoughts from the bathroom. “Could it have been the Protectorate?”

“Again, why?” Nick spread his hands. “We haven’t learned anything they’d want to cover up.”

“I know.”

Nick assessed her for a minute while she read some of the data, then shrugged. “Okay, so who can create scream tones?”

She sighed and flipped a page. “Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. Our abilities aren’t limited like that. We’re not X-Men.”

“What’s that mean?”

She opened her mouth to explain, then saw his face and realized he wasn’t asking for a definition. “It means I know half a dozen goddesses who could probably do it, and I’m sure there are many, many more.”

He frowned. “Could you have done it? Like, in your sleep?”

“Nope. Not even at full moon.”

He leaned his arms on the table. “So we need to look at this another way.”

“Not who could, but who
would
. Even if they’re working for someone else.”

“Any ideas?” he asked again, and she wished she could be as coolly rational about it as he was. They were talking about people she was friendly with, if not true friends.

She flipped another page. The printout held names, contact information, ages, power sources, levels of ability, and cycles. There were only about a hundred in-power goddesses in the country and she knew most of them, at least in passing. But as she skimmed the information, questions raging through her head, she couldn’t connect who might have the ability—power level, source, and cycle—with who might have a motive. Her tired brain couldn’t keep anything together.

“No.” She slammed the folder closed and cupped her coffee between her hands. “I can’t think. We’ll have to figure it out when we get home.”

“Can I look?”

Irritated, she shoved the folder at him. He ignored her burst of attitude, which made her feel petty. If he’d had more sleep than she had over the last couple of days, maybe he could come up with something.

A few minutes later, though, he looked disgusted and handed her the folder.

“I can’t make any sense of it. We’ll have Sam dig into it. He’s the analytical one. Maybe he can set up a program or something.”

“Okay.”

“Did you hear or see anything besides the noise and the book flying around?”

She closed her eyes to remember. She’d been dreaming, something vague and not restful. Then the glass shattering snapped her awake to the scream. Nick caught her. The book flew across the room, barely missing them. She’d looked for shadows or shapes that didn’t belong, but there’d been no way to hear anything over the noise.

“Nothing,” she said. “Do you think we got away too easily?”

“Sure felt like it.”

That only made it more confusing, but she couldn’t argue. “Someone strong enough to do multiple things, even as limited as that was—”

“That was limited?”

“A little noise, tossing a couple of objects around?” She paused when Nick shot her a look at her mocking tone. “Sorry, I forget you don’t see any of us with full access to our sources.”

“That’s kind of the whole point of my job,” he said. “If you can attack people, you don’t need us.”

“My point is, it takes a lot of effort to maintain the tone and still move things around. Someone that strong could have gotten into the suite without us knowing, instead of throwing out all those warnings.”

“So why didn’t they?”

“Good question.” She drained her cooled coffee and tossed the cup into a nearby trash can. “Because their intent wasn’t to harm?”

Nick didn’t look like he bought that, but he let it go. “How many goddesses can sustain a number of things at once?”

“More than half.”

“Still narrows it down a little. We’ll look at the list when we get back.”

A couple entered the sitting area, followed by a man in a suit talking on a cell phone. As early as it still was, the airport was filling up, and it looked like they’d have to wait until they got home to talk more. They went back to the shops and found one that carried Crocs. Quinn rolled her eyes but felt less conspicuous once she had them on and wasn’t walking around in filthy socks anymore. Then they found a drugstore for supplies and Nick cleaned and re-bandaged her arm and, without her saying anything, got her a bottle of painkillers.

They made their way to their terminal, and then the gate. Quinn was so tired by the time they sat down, she could barely keep her eyes open, despite the coffee.

“Come here.” Nick put his arm around her shoulder again and nudged her down onto his chest. “We’ve got a while yet before our flight.”

“What about you?” she murmured.

“I’m an expert at sleeping sitting up.”

She felt a soft pressure on the top of her head, breathed deeply the scent of warm man with a hint of leather, and relaxed. It should have been less comfortable than any other place she’d dozed over the last thirty-six hours, but she found that it topped the list.

Still, she couldn’t seem to fall asleep. She nuzzled into his chest a little. The heartbeat beneath her ear was solid and steady, his breathing so deep and slow it barely moved her head. A little while later, his voice rumbled as he called to arrange pickup of the rental car back at the hotel, then to update Sam.

“We’ll be landing around nine thirty, I think. Naw, the Charger’s in the lot. That’s not a problem. She’s exhausted. I’m okay. Can’t say I won’t crash when we get in. Did you find anything? Yeah, I know. We’ve got some information, might give us a little bit of direction, but not much. She’s being stonewalled. No idea. I think it bothers her a lot more than she’s letting on. Hey, are you related to Quinn at all? Cousin, even? Not even distantly? Hey, chill, I’ll tell you when we get there. Just trying to cover all the angles, dude. I will. See ya soon.” He shifted under her to replace his phone in his pocket, then stroked his hand across the nape of her neck. Her headache began to fade.

The next thing she knew, he said her name, a gentle murmur, an urge to wake up, and her consciousness rose to answer it. But she didn’t want to move. Her hand rested on his flat abdomen, her head in the hollow of his shoulder, with his palm on her waist. He surrounded her in a cocoon of warmth and musk. It might not be the only place she’d felt safe over the last few days, but it was definitely her favorite.

“C’mon, Quinn, they’re boarding first class. The sooner we get on the plane, the sooner we can get home.”

She smiled and opened her eyes. “That makes no sense.”

“I know, but my arm’s asleep.” He unwrapped his arm from around her and stood while she stretched and yawned. She reached for her bag, but he’d already picked up both.

“Homestretch,” he encouraged.

Quinn pushed to her feet with a groan. “Unless they’re waiting for us at the other end.”

His expression told her he’d thought the same thing. They joined the line and inched toward the gate, but now Quinn wished she’d planned ahead, preparing for the
what
instead of trying to figure out the
who
. Her little bit of rest was enough to get her brain working again. She snapped her phone open and hit the speed dial for Sam’s cell. He answered right away.

“It’s Quinn. I don’t have much time, so please don’t question or argue. Close the bar. Make the deposit and notify the staff they’re on leave with pay until I call them. Pack me a bag like I’m going on a long trip, then grab the schedule for the month and all your contact information. We’re going to have to cancel every appointment for the full moon.” He made a noise like he was about to interrupt, but he held his silence. She could hear his pen scratching. “Pack for yourself, too, and please get my flash drive out of the safe.” She tried to think of anything she’d missed. They reached the agent at the gate, who glared at her. “Go somewhere no one will expect. We’ll call you when we land. I’m sorry. I’ve got to hang up.” She disconnected and handed her pass to the agent with a weak smile. “Sorry.”

The sour woman dismissed her. “Next, please.”

They hurried down the Jetway and caught up to the line at the entrance to the plane.

“I planned to hit the road as soon as we got home, but this way is definitely better,” Nick said.

“Thank god for Sam.” She nodded at the attendant at the plane door, who smiled as brightly as the ticket taker had scowled.

“With luck,” Nick continued once they were seated, “the Charger will be where we left it, and no one will have tampered with it.”

Three hours later, they exited the warm terminal and stepped into the cool fall day. He stopped her as they approached the car, parked alone at the back of the short-term lot. The empty space made it impossible for anyone to hide or sneak up on them. It looked unharmed, but plenty could have been done to it without being visible.

“Hold this.” Nick handed Quinn his duffel and circled the car, peering through the windows and examining the chassis. Then he lay down and wiggled underneath, making his way up the undercarriage. Quinn kept watch across the lot, listening to the scrape of Nick’s boots on the asphalt, random
clink
s and
clunk
s, and his occasional curse. After eight and a half minutes he dragged himself out the other side and dusted off his hands.

“Looks fine. Let me pop the hood.”

He took the keys from Quinn, unlocked the driver’s door, and pulled the hood release. Though he inspected the engine and checked all the hoses, belts, and lines, she could tell he remained aware of their surroundings. She probably should have been concerned about what he might find, but instead, she appreciated the curve of his torso over the engine block, the flex of his thigh muscles when he bent or leaned. For a brief moment, she considered dragging him into the backseat. The slam of the hood killed the fantasy.

Nick motioned for her to get in the car. “This looks okay, too. Let’s roll.”

A few minutes later they were on the road, heading north on I-71 away from Columbus.

“Where do you want to go?” Quinn asked.

He shook his head. “All the safe houses I know of are on the grid. We need something none of the goddesses or protectors know about.”

She hated that they had to cut themselves off from their main support system. That the system could even be their enemy. But since he didn’t have a place for them to go, she did. “Okay. Go west on Thirty-three.” She pulled out her cell and dialed Sam’s number.

He answered on the second ring. “You’re all right?”

“We’re fine.” The Camaro’s engine hummed in the background. “You’re out?”

“Yeah. I got everything we should need. Where are we going?”

“Benton Harbor.”

“’Nuff said. See you in a few hours.”

She turned off the phone to conserve the battery and slid down until her head rested on the back of the seat. “Take Thirty-three to Seventy-five north. Wake me when you need me to drive.” She fell asleep smiling at Nick’s snort.

…

Quinn woke when the car slowed. Less than four hours had passed, and Nick was pulling into a gas station off the highway. The windshield wipers flapped at top speed, sweeping waves of water off the window. The rain pounded on the roof, and Quinn wondered how she could have slept through it.

“We near Sturgis?” she asked, rubbing her eyes and pushing up in the seat, recognizing the wide, flat terrain as Northern Ohio. Her neck hurt, but she felt more rested than she had in two days. Nick looked weary but alert, and she wondered how he’d managed to keep going so long.

“Angola. Rain slowed us down some.” He pulled under the pump overhang and the noise disappeared. “You hungry?”