Under the Moon (31 page)

Nick smirked with no humor. “I think we know who’s responsible.”

Defending someone who might be related to her, share her blood, came automatically, even though she agreed with him. “We don’t
know
—”

“It was on her land!”

“I know.” She stuck her elbow on the table and rested her head on her palm, weary of it all. “She’s my sister, Nick. I—”

“But she’s not your family.” He stabbed his toast at her then leaned over his plate, his voice going lower and more intense. “You don’t know her or what she’s capable of. And if you’re going to take her side over me—” He stopped, leaning back abruptly, and flung his toast to the plate. “I’ve lost my appetite.” He shoved out of the booth and stood. “I’ll meet you outside.”

Quinn sat, miserable, wishing he’d let her explain but thinking it might be better to let him stay angry.

She didn’t trust her sister over her friends, for god’s sake. She didn’t want them hurt, she was pissed that they already had been, and she was afraid they were more vulnerable targets than she was. Any hope that Marley was innocent or that Quinn could have a real relationship with her family had been lost when Nick took that bullet. Being protected was well and good when all it meant was that no one harmed her. Letting others get hurt instead, or worse, was simply unacceptable.

Sam returned to the table as Nick swung out the door. “What was that all about?”

Quinn watched sadly after Nick. “Complication.”

“What’d you do, say you were going to see Marley without us?”

She didn’t respond.

“That’s really what you said? What, are you stupid?”

Quinn shoved at him. “Get up.”

“Quinn…”

“I’m not stupid, and contrary to what Nick believes, I’m not oblivious to the probability that my sister is responsible for his bullet wound or that she’s got something to do with the leech or that she’s dangerous to me. But I cannot keep circling around this and letting the people I care about get hurt. So move.” She shoved him again and he slid out of the booth, wisely keeping silent as she stormed out to the parking lot.

Nick leaned against the Charger, parked three spaces from Chloe’s Prius. Quinn stopped in front of him, the renewed flare of desire infuriating her.

“Let me heal your leg.”

“No way.”

“You were limping.”

“So what? You’re too drained. You pull that kind of power while the moon’s on the other side of the planet, you’ll kill yourself.”

She snorted. “Hardly.”

“You’re not doing it.” He looked past her and a satisfied smirk shaped his mouth. “You don’t even want to try it.”

Quinn turned. Sam stalked toward them, his expression thunderous. For a moment, she felt a hundred years old and ready to drop everything and go back to Ohio. But that wouldn’t help any of them. Nor would another six hours of planning. She needed to act.

“Fine. I’ll do it later.” She spun away and strode to the car, got in, and took off before Nick could realize what she intended and stop her.

She knew she had no chance to outrun him, so she didn’t try. She keyed the address for the inn into the GPS and followed the route. Her phone rang. She left it in her pocket. A few moments later the Charger appeared in her rearview mirror, Nick and Sam both glaring through the windshield.

So they were pissed. Good. She wanted enough of a head start that they wouldn’t stop her, and maybe she could gain enough advantage to protect them for a change.

Chapter Twelve

Among goddesses, no ties are stronger than those of family. Mothers, grandmothers, and sisters help a new goddess develop and fine-tune her abilities and provide emotional support as she finds her place in our world. However, as is the case outside the goddess community, “family” is not always defined by blood.

—Society Annual Meeting,
Special Session on Relationships

…

Soon she was on the wooded, winding road to the inn, the driveway a few hundred yards ahead. She searched the sides of the road, looking for an opportunity, but didn’t see it until she got to her turn. A drainage ditch had been dug into the far corner. She turned right past the one-way sign, whipping into the turn without warning. When Nick followed she reached for the moon’s energy, exhilarated by the clean, cold surge, and sent the Charger into the ditch with a thought. It was deep enough and wide enough to trap the front tires so he couldn’t get out.

The Prius sped past white pines lining the long, narrow driveway, halting with a little screech in front of the large white colonial house. Black shutters glistened in the sun, and a few hardy fall flowers bloomed in the beds on either side of the wide porch steps. Rocking chairs sat invitingly in front of sparkling windows covered in sheer white curtains, and a grapevine wreath adorned the front door. All very picturesque and not telegraphing “evil lives here” in any way.

Mindful that Nick and Sam would be close behind her, Quinn got out of the car, her eyes on the building. Chirping birds pierced the serenity as she climbed the steps and approached the front door.

As she reached for the handle of the screen, the inner door opened and a woman, laughing at the man behind her rather than looking where she was going, swung the outer door at Quinn’s face. She stepped back just in time.

The woman gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking.” She tilted her head. “Are you a new guest?”

“I hope to be. I’m looking for Marley Canton.”

The woman clucked her tongue. “I’m afraid the inn is booked for the next several weeks. I know, because we were so lucky to get this week when a couple canceled. Called off the wedding, poor things. Anyway, Marley’s in the kitchen. Fran at the counter can tell you when they can book you. Toodles!”

She and the man trotted down the steps to an SUV parked in a small, needle-strewn lot to the left. Quinn stepped into the warm lobby and glanced around. The square foyer was empty of both Fran and all furniture except a tall counter to the right of the central hallway. On the left, a staircase stretched upward, the carved banister gleaming as much as the polished floor, the dark wood contrasting with the bright white of the walls and check-in counter. The shivery feeling inside Quinn could be anticipation or apprehension, but it came from her, not from the environment. The foreboding she’d had before Nick left to come up here was absent. Still, she remained alert, prepared for anything.

The bell on the counter dinged when she tapped it, but it didn’t bring footsteps or voices. It would be rude to walk into the back, Quinn told herself, but did it anyway. She saw no one in the hall, nor in the spacious dining room she passed. Pots and pans clanked deeper into the building. Quinn followed the sound of running water to the very back of the house.

The kitchen door was open to the backyard, the room sunny and bright and clean except for the makings of bread dough scattered across several counters. A young woman stood at the center counter, digging her hands deep into the dough she kneaded. Quinn registered dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, the exact color of her own, and a wide face with high cheekbones and pointed chin that reminded her of Tess. She didn’t move, waiting for a sense of…something. Family. Connection. Recognition. There was nothing. Then her sister looked up and froze, surprise and pleasure spreading over her face.

“Quinn!”

“Marley.” It didn’t shock her that Marley knew who she was—not as much as it did to see her pale lavender eyes. They couldn’t be normal. Uncertainty drained her determination, and she began to hope again. Maybe Marley wasn’t the threat after all. Maybe she was just another victim.

“How did you get in here?”

Reminding herself to assume nothing, Quinn said, “It wasn’t hard.”

“But the front door is—”

“A couple was coming out. They let me in. Said Fran would be at the front desk, but there wasn’t anyone around.”

Marley pursed her lips and shook her head. “Fran’s in the laundry room.” She manipulated the dough into a mound, dropped it into a bowl, and draped a towel over it. “Let me get cleaned up and we’ll go in the other room.” She turned to the sink to wash her hands. “Not exactly the—”

BwoooOOP. BwoooOOP. BwoooOOP.

Marley cursed over the loud alarm and quickly dried off her hands.

“What’s that?” Quinn shouted.

Marley waved a hand toward one wall and the alarm stopped. Quinn saw a speaker up near the ceiling, then noticed the windowsills, backsplashes, and shelves high on the wall were all lined with different kinds of crystals. Marley’s power source, and she’d just used it. So her eyes weren’t the result of leeching. Quinn felt her expression twist with disgust, her hope short-lived. Marley had both light eyes and power, so the only possibility remaining was that she
had
created the leech.

“Someone’s trying to get in.” Marley squeezed past her and rushed down the hall toward the front door.

“They’re probably with me!” Quinn hurried to follow, not wanting Marley to attack her friends. When she burst into the foyer lobby, two men held guns on Sam and Nick, who stood with their hands raised, looking disheveled and disgruntled. When they saw Quinn, Sam sagged in obvious relief while Nick tensed, his eyes flashing and his jaw tight.

“They
are
with me,” Quinn said, stepping up next to Marley. “Call off your goons.”

“They’re not goons.”

But neither were they typical security. The guy on the left, standing in the doorway of what appeared to be an old-fashioned parlor, had long, stringy hair and wore dirty jeans and a Metallica T-shirt. The older one on the right was beefier and held his rifle with more authority, but he looked farm-hardened rather than street-tough.

No one moved. Exasperated, Quinn stepped forward and introduced Nick and Sam. Then she pointed to Marley. “Marley Canton, my sister.”

The two armed men lowered their weapons halfway, surprise overtaking grim determination on their features.

Marley smiled slightly. “Bobby and Tim, two of my staff. You’ll meet Fran in a little while. She’s my assistant manager.” She motioned to Nick’s leg. “You’re bleeding.”

Quinn whirled and bent to check. Blood had seeped through the denim, which meant he’d torn open any slight healing he’d had overnight. She moved quickly to tuck herself under his arm. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, wishing she’d healed him earlier. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry and taken off.” She’d known he would come after her, but she hadn’t thought about the impact on his injury.

Now that his adrenaline was wearing off, Nick looked pale and pinched with pain. “We need to work on our communication skills,” he said.

Quinn helped him down the hall to the kitchen and noticed he barely put weight on his injured leg. He had to be hurting.

“Sam, do you mind getting the medical supplies from the car?”

“I have everything you’ll need,” Marley said. She nodded to Tim and Bobby. “We’re good, guys. I’ll call you if I need you.”

They nodded and disappeared in opposite directions.

Sam trailed behind as Quinn and Nick followed Marley back to the kitchen. Quinn settled Nick at a large, heavy log table and sat in a matching chair, propping his leg on her lap. The moon lust had abated since she’d run from the truck stop, but heat seeped into her where his leg rested.

Marley brought over a first-aid kit, bowl of water, and scissors, then joined them at the table. Sam prowled the kitchen, not touching anything and being so unobtrusive that Marley didn’t even flick him a glance.

“What happened to him?” Marley asked.

“I was shot by one of your thugs,” Nick accused. He jerked his leg when Quinn removed the red-soaked bandage and a few of his leg hairs with it. “Ouch.”

“Sorry. We don’t know who shot him,” Quinn corrected. She dampened a piece of gauze and mopped around the wound. “But it happened yesterday on your property.”

“What was he doing on my property?” Marley’s tone held more than a note of defensiveness.

“You tell me!” Nick didn’t exactly yell, but he didn’t moderate his voice, either. “I didn’t intend to be there.”

“Where?”

“Out back. Past the labyrinth.”