Under the Moon (14 page)

But instead of ’fessing up, he ignored the question and cupped the back of her head with his palm. “Go get cleaned up. When you come out I’ll take care of your cuts.”

She didn’t argue. She craved that bath now almost as much as she craved sex from moon lust. She filled the deep claw-footed tub in the little bathroom while she brushed her teeth, then eased herself into the steaming water, hissing as it touched the dozens of scratches from her hips to her neck. So much for safety glass.

She soaked until she started to fall asleep, then washed her hair, ducking under the water to rinse it. When she sat up, she noticed tendrils of red in the water. Some of her cuts must have opened after the water soaked away the initial clots. She finished washing and chose a red towel from the pile on the shelf over the toilet. After drying her back carefully, she pulled on the underwear and pajama bottoms, then tucked the top against the front of her and opened the door.

Nick, wearing cotton drawstring pants and a thin white T-shirt, sat at the table. He’d laid out gauze, cotton balls, ointment, bandages, a bowl of water, and a small towel. He straddled one picnic bench and motioned for Quinn to sit in front of him.

“You look flat out. Let me take care of you so you can get some sleep.”

“You, too.” He was heavy-lidded, which made Quinn think about the double bed in her room.

“Arm first.” He held out a hand to cradle her wrist and examine the slice before stroking on antibiotic ointment and taping a wide bandage across it.

She swiveled on the bench to put her back to him and leaned against the table. “How’s it look?”

His fingertips stroked from the nape of her neck, across her back, and down her spine to her hips. He nudged her pants lower and touched a spot at the base of her spine.

“Not too bad. A couple are bleeding, but none seem deep.” His touch was gentle as he spread ointment on the little cuts and scratches, then paid more attention to the worse ones. Quinn sat still, her eyes closed, absorbing the tingles his fingers left behind. Her muscles became languid, soothed more by his touch than the warm water in her bath.

Sounds in the small room seemed amplified. Soft taps as he set things on the table. The rasp of medical tape being pulled off the roll. His bare feet sliding across the wood floor. His breathing.

He smoothed the last bandage on her hip. Then his hand rested on the side of her neck. Stroked down to where it met her shoulder. His thumb swept across her skin. She felt his mouth on the nape of her neck, hot and gentle. She held her breath, not wanting to break the spell. Nick had never allowed himself to touch her like that before.

Then there was only coldness where he’d been.

“All set,” he said, his voice coming from several feet behind her. “Need some help with your shirt?”

“No.” She sounded hoarse and fought not to clear her throat. “I’ve got it.” She carefully pulled the long-sleeved cotton top over her head and down to her waist, then stood and turned to face him.

He looked normal. Until she examined his face, and a flicker of muscle in his jaw indicated how difficult it was for him to keep his expression clear. His hands shook a little as he folded a towel.

“Thank you.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.” He jerked his head toward her door. “Go get some sleep.”

“You, too.”

“I will.”

Quinn hesitated, but she didn’t know what else she could say. She went into the bedroom, closed the door, and climbed into the soft bed with a moan of gratitude.

And fell asleep wishing she wasn’t alone.

Chapter Six

While you are exploring your abilities and your role in goddess and global society, please consider serving the community in a voluntary capacity. Board and committee service is an enriching experience for both yourself and those with whom you serve.The more you give, the more you receive in return.

—The Society for Goddess Education and Defense,
Election Notice

…

Quinn awoke to the scent of nirvana—bacon and coffee. She stretched, lying in bed for a few minutes, imagining the scene outside her door. Sam would be at the stove, flipping pancakes and draining bacon. Nick would be at the table, drinking coffee and reading the paper. She bet they argued about what to do next. The problem was that they didn’t know who the enemy was or where to find him.

Her contentment erased, she sighed and climbed out of bed into the chilly air. She dressed in jeans and a cable-knit sweater over a T-shirt, then emerged into the main room.

And stopped dead at the scene before her.

Nick stood at the stove, the sleeves of his dark green Henley pushed up, a plaid apron tied over his jeans. He held a spatula in one hand and a frying pan full of pancakes in the other. Sam, about four inches taller, turned bacon next to him, while coffee bubbled in the old percolator on a back burner. He wore a blue long-sleeved T-shirt, and his apron was plain white with a ruffle around the bottom. The girlie-ness of the scene only served to make them both look more masculine.

Quinn could have stood there watching them all day.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead.” Nick smiled over his shoulder, the sun glinting off his dark blond hair and turning his green eyes pale. “Have a seat.”

Sam finished transferring the bacon to a paper towel-covered plate and set it on the table. He glanced up and frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Quinn smiled and moved to the table. “Just admiring the view.”

Nick snorted and turned back to the stove, and Sam shook his head at her.

“How are you feeling?” She sat and inhaled deeply. Her stomach growled.

Sam shrugged and nudged the bacon with the tongs. “Sore. Stiff. But mostly okay. How about you?”

“I’m fine. I can’t even feel the cuts.” Surprisingly true. She didn’t want to test it by leaning against anything, but regular movement didn’t hurt much.

“That’s my fine doctorin’.” Nick slapped pancakes onto the platter on the table. “Soup’s up.”

“Hey, Quinn.” Sam opened the back door, bent to reach something on the porch, and came back in holding a large silver dish. “What’s this?”

“Oh.” She blushed. “Sometimes people release dogs and cats that they don’t want anymore into the woods. When I’m up here, I try to leave food out. I kind of forgot.”

“Is there any food left? I saw a cat slinking around this morning.”

“In the bin behind the door.”

Nick crossed to the door. “I’ll get it. If you bend over too many times, you might pass out.”

Sam shoved him but came inside and sat down with Quinn at the table. Nick joined them a minute later, and they ate without discussion except for Quinn’s compliments on the food. When they were done, she cleaned up while Sam retrieved his laptop.

Nick, pacing, laid out the information they had so far. “The leech has hit two goddesses, maybe three. Someone says I’ve gone rogue—which hasn’t hit the Protectorate, by the way, since I’ve talked to a couple of people and they haven’t acted any differently.” He stopped next to his bag on the couch and dug around in it. “In the meantime, the Society is acting like Quinn is the one who’s rogue.” He pulled out a baseball and circled the table, now rolling the ball from hand to hand. “Alana alluded to a family tie, and Jennifer’s e-mail didn’t appear on the Society loop. Neither has anything else since the leech hit.”

“As if the Society is trying to contain it,” Sam said. He typed something on the computer. “They work hard to keep public perception positive and not overblown. If people found out goddesses can bestow power…” He shook his head at the implications.

“So it could have been the Society at the hotel and on the highway,” Quinn offered from the sink. She rinsed the silverware in her hand and dumped it in the drainer. “If they think our efforts to find the leech are going to endanger everyone.”

Sam scowled. “You mean like trying to deter us but not kill us.”

“Right. I mean, we don’t know what the security team knows and is already doing. Because they won’t tell us.” She threw a spatula into the drainer. “Or it could be the Protectorate,” she suggested, watching Nick’s expression darken. “They don’t have the manpower to protect every goddess, do they?”

He shook his head. “But they’re not going to violate everything they were created for just to cover their asses.”

Neither would the Society, but instead of bickering, Quinn focused on scrubbing scorched butter out of the pancake pan. “None of that factors in the family-tie thing, anyway.”

“So maybe…”

Quinn whirled on Sam when he trailed off. “Go ahead, say it. That’s where this is going. I can’t hide from it forever.”

He sighed and closed the laptop. “Maybe the goddess who created the leech is related to you.”

Quinn squeezed the sponge in her fist, heedless of the water dripping to the floor. “Yeah. That seems most logical, right? Good thing I never tried to become part of the family.”

Sam moved away from the personal. “Why doesn’t it happen more? Goddesses giving other people power.”

Nick shrugged. “It’s hard, and damages her. It would upset the balance, both in the goddess and between her and the source of her power. And the result wouldn’t be worth it. No recipient would be able to hold on to the ability for very long.”

“Unless he started leeching,” Sam said.

“Wouldn’t that be almost inevitable?” Quinn asked. “I don’t know what would happen to him if he didn’t acquire more power, but it seems like it would be addictive.”

“So why would one of you do this?” Nick threw the ball against the wall between the bathroom and bedroom doors and caught it.

Quinn didn’t bother to scold him. She did
not
want to put herself in the head of someone related to her who would do something so awful. She pulled the drain on the sink and ran some water in the bacon pan to soak, keeping her head down so she wouldn’t see the silent communication Nick and Sam had to be exchanging.

Sam cleared his throat. “Let’s move on to Nick being rogue. You think of any connection between you and this Jennifer Hollinger?” he asked Nick.

Quinn hung up the hand towel and sat on the picnic bench, this time glaring at Nick when he raised his arm to throw the ball again. He scowled but gripped it in one hand.

“None,” he said. “I never heard the name before Quinn showed me her e-mail. I’ve never even been in Mississippi.” Quinn raised an eyebrow at him, and he lifted his arms in a shrug. “Well, I haven’t stopped. I’ve driven through.”

“Let’s see if we can find a picture of her.” Sam slid his wireless broadband card into the laptop. “Can we get a signal out here?”

“It’s not exactly wilderness. Should be a strong signal.” While they waited for the computer to connect, she added, “My property backs up on Sarett Nature Center. They own hundreds of acres, and there’s a good buffer of flood plain between us and the main educational area. But a few miles the other way is normal civilization.”

Sam clicked and typed for a minute, then turned the laptop to face Nick. “She look familiar?”

He leaned over. “Not a bit.”

Quinn moved closer. “You sure it’s the right Jennifer Hollinger?”

“You tell me.” Sam pointed at the caption under the photo. “‘Jennifer Hollinger of Vicksburg, MS, is a hero after saving four people from drowning.’ Some idiot drove through what he thought was a puddle and was really a flooded creek. She diverted the water so they could get out of the car before it filled.”

“That’s her. She looks different, but I think she dyed her hair. I’ve only seen her a couple of times, though.” She pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket and turned it on. “I’m going to see if Alana found out anything.”

The guys talked quietly at the table while she called Alana. Her tone was guarded, but at least she hadn’t sent her to voice mail.

“You didn’t call me back,” Alana accused.

“I totally forgot. I’m sorry. Sam was in an accident.”

“Oh! Is he okay?”

“Yes, we all are. Thank you for calling to check. The thing at the hotel must have happened after we left.” After Alana made appropriate commiserating sounds, Quinn asked about Jennifer.