Under the Moon (Goddesses Rising) Read online

  Nick, sitting on the edge of the bed dressed in jeans and an open button-down over a white T-shirt, nothing like what he’d worn in the dream, stared at the mess. “Bad dream?”

  “Very.” She rubbed her face and pushed herself up to lean against the headboard. The brightness of the room disoriented her and failed to banish the lingering terror. She had to fight not to scramble off the bed, away from Nick.

  Quinn concentrated on her surroundings, feeling sick at her inability to conquer the dream. She was under the covers now, her clothes twisted and bunched around her body. The sweat drying on the back of her neck chilled her, and she hunched into herself.

  The connecting door next to the bed was open wide, and Sam’s keyboard clicked on the other side of the doorway. She grabbed the little electric clock on the nightstand and tilted it toward her to double-check the time, the dream disturbing her so much she didn’t trust her internal clock. Eight thirty. “I’m sorry,” she told Nick, motioning to the mess.

  “Better the mocha than me.” He handed her the other to-go cup and stood. “You can have mine. It’s not frou-frou, though. Just black.” He disappeared into the bathroom and came back out with an off-white hand towel.

  “I can’t take your coffee.”

  “It’s fine, I’ll get some down the road.” He bent to mop the spill off the warped laminate table. “Hey, this splotch look like a bunny to you?”

  Quinn smiled a little. “I dreamed about the leech,” she told him. “It was you.” She watched him carefully, hating herself for it. But he didn’t freeze, or jerk his head around to look at her, or slow his movements.

  “Yeah, that sounds very bad.” He swiped at the curtains, then half sat on the table and looked at her. “Is that something you’re afraid of?”

  “No.” She didn’t hesitate, and the realization snapped whatever remaining hold the dream had on her.

  But Nick continued. “It’s logical. I don’t have alibis for Tanda and Chloe. With the stuff we’re hearing—”

  “It’s not logical. Not to me.” Dreams weren’t based on logic, no matter what part of a person’s subconscious fed them. And maybe a dream could have enough emotional power to influence her for a moment, but her conviction that Nick was not a threat, and never would be, came from something beyond influence.

  Nick’s eyes had gone golden in the sunlight, and she could see the gratitude in them. Had he been afraid that she’d turn on him since this whole thing started? She wanted to get up and hug him, but it felt too awkward with Sam only feet away.

  “So.” She slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom. “How did you and Sam do last night?”

  “That wasn’t very nice, you know!” Nick called after her. She left the door cracked a little so she could hear him. “Sam snores!”

  “I do not!” came from the other room.

  “Do so. Like a hibernating bear with a deviated septum. And he sprawls. I had to sleep on the floor.”

  “I’m a big guy!”

  Quinn grinned. “You could have come in here,” she called out. “There was an extra bed.”

  “Too scared!” came back in stereo, making her laugh.

  “What’s the plan for today?” she asked around her toothbrush.

  “Sam wants to do that business stuff he was whining about last night.”

  Payroll was due, and they needed to upload a file to the bank so the deposits would be in her employees’ accounts on Friday. Plus, Sam was concerned about some of the cancellations for the next full moon. Two of her clients were cancer patients for whom all other treatments had failed before they came to her. She could heal, but cancer was more than just healing. If she skipped a month it might progress again, undoing all the good she’d done in past treatments. She’d suggested trying to hook them up with another goddess, but they had to find one who had the experience and lived close enough to cover for her.

  “I’ll be in after I shower,” she told them. “Need to wake up.”

  “Don’t take too long,” Nick warned. “I want to get back on the road by noon. And we’ll pay for an extra day if we’re not out by then.”

  “No problem.” She took a quick, cool shower and changed clothes before packing the few things she’d used and meeting them in the other room.

  “Here are the goddesses we can try.” Sam handed her a sheet of paper covered in his neat handwriting. “I’m almost done prepping payroll.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you want to do about the Society meeting?”

  Quinn accepted the paper and picked up the garlic-and-cream-cheese bagel sitting on a paper bag next to his computer. “This mine?”

  Sam grimaced. “It is now.”

  “She’s a big moocher this morning,” Nick said from the corner. He tapped something out on his cell phone.

  “Yep, that’s me. Quinn ‘Moocher’ Caldwell. I guess we should send Alana an e-mail that I won’t make it. I don’t think anyone will be surprised. Assuming they’re still holding the meeting.” Nonprofit laws required them to, but they could reschedule, and with everything going on, it didn’t seem prudent to put all those goddesses in one place. But it wasn’t her call, of course. The sense of estrangement didn’t feel as strong as it had mere days ago. Reconnecting with Tanda had helped, she supposed. Maybe reducing her involvement in Society politics would be good for her in the long run.

  She settled onto the bed with the list and her phone to make calls. It took half an hour to find someone to cover for her. But she’d also gained some information.

  “File’s almost done uploading,” Sam said when she clapped her phone shut for the last time. “I got a response from Alana.” He looked concerned. “She said it’s for the best that you don’t attend.”

  “Great.” Quinn wanted to reassure him that she was okay with it, but it was time to move on. “I got Holly to cover for me.”

  “Good. Mrs. Calebas and Mr. Dalini will be relieved. I’ll let them know once we’re on the road.” He glanced at his watch.

  “But listen. That’s not all I got.”

  Nick, who’d spent a little time watching the NFL Network and a lot of time pacing while they worked, perked up. “You got something from Holly? About what?”

  “Jennifer. I asked everyone I talked to. No one’s heard from her and no one saw her e-mail.”

  “That’s weird.” Sam frowned. His computer beeped to signal the file was done, and he started shutting it down. “Are you sure it came through on the loop and not privately?”

  “Yeah, we’ve checked it three times,” Nick confirmed. “Goddess voodoo?”

  Quinn ignored his quip. “Holly might be the last one who spoke with Jennifer. It was five days ago, and she said she’d sounded fine. But get this: She had a new boyfriend.”

  “So?” said Nick.

  But Sam got the implication. “The leech?” He slid his laptop into the case.

  “Could be.” She gathered up her own things and slung her bag over her shoulder as Nick hefted her duffel with his. Sam glanced around the room as he followed them out.

  “Holly said the guy sounded like the one Chloe had been seeing before she was leeched,” Quinn said when they’d reached the car.

  Sam paused while setting his stuff in the trunk. “It can’t be the same person, can it? There wasn’t time between Tanda and Chloe to establish a relationship.”

  “No, but remember, Tanda had a live-in boyfriend already. Holly said this guy Chloe dated traveled for work all the time, so he could have been in Oregon when Tanda got leeched. And he could have been prepping for Chloe a lot longer than we thought.”

  Nick leaned against the car. “Want to head for Mississippi?”

  “I think we should.” Quinn tossed her stuff in the trunk, and Sam dropped it closed. “Did they send a protector down there?” she asked Nick.

  “We’re shorthanded. This situation has elevated the threat for everyone. They didn’t have anyone available.”

  “Then we should definitely go,” Quinn dec
ided, energized by the idea of action. “I don’t know for sure, but I’m afraid no one at the Society is doing anything, either. If she’s not already leeched, she might be in trouble. I tried calling her again, but she still didn’t answer. If the leech is stealing phones…”

  “All right, let’s go, then.” Sam slapped his hand on the roof of the car. “I’ll go check out.”

  “We need gas,” Nick told him. “Meet us across the street.”

  Sam waved in agreement. Quinn got in the front passenger side and said, “Can I run in and get you coffee?”

  “I would kiss you for it.” He rolled down his window and breathed deep. “I was going insane in there. But let me check it out first.” He started the car and pulled out to the road, letting two cars go by before roaring across to the gas station.

  “You could have taken a nap,” Quinn pointed out. “Or come over to get another coffee while you waited.”

  He gave her a “yeah right” look and peered past her to study the store, like he had before. “Don’t flirt with anyone in there this time, all right? I don’t need to break up a catfight. I’ll be right in.”

  Quinn laughed and went inside. This time there were no lines. She filled three cups and pressed them into a cardboard carrier. The bell at the door tinkled. She glanced over her shoulder but saw only the clerk, slouched on a stool behind the counter, engrossed in what she’d bet was a skin mag.

  She lifted the coffee carrier but froze when someone gripped her elbow tight enough to make her gasp.

  “Set it down,” a deep voice growled.

  She started to turn her head, but someone else grabbed her around the neck and squeezed. Before she could even think about fighting back, her vision went black from the edges in.

  …

  Quinn came to four minutes later, her head pounding and her mouth dry. There was so much pain in her neck she didn’t know how they’d knocked her out—if they’d cut off her air or used some kind of drug. She forced her eyes to stay closed, despite the desperate need to open them. Wherever she was, she wasn’t alone. Not in a vehicle, or at least not one that was moving. She was horizontal on a hard, flat surface. Something low, because the murmurs above her seemed high up. She inhaled slowly to try to calm her racing heart and smelled dryness, like dusty concrete, and motor oil. An impression tried to coalesce…tang like metal, stuffy heat…cars. The convenience store had a repair bay attached. She was probably on the floor in there. That was good. They hadn’t taken her far.

  So where the hell was Nick?

  “Not until she wakes up,” someone said. Her head had cleared enough to discern the words, though they were said quietly. “We gotta make sure she’s all right. I’m not takin’ her to the boss damaged. She’d have our asses.”

  Another voice came from farther away, but louder. “Shit, that guy she’s with is looking around.”

  Relief flooded her, but it was short-lived. If he was looking around, he hadn’t seen them take her. Knowing he was near, but not near enough, left her feeling more vulnerable than she’d felt since she came into her power. Even the friend’s abusive boyfriend who broke her arm hadn’t left her feeling like this. He’d been a known threat. Who knew what these guys were planning to do?

  “Of course he is,” came yet another voice. “That’s Nick Jarrett. He’s her protector.”

  “Oh, ma-a-n-n-n. This has not gone down right. We’re in big trouble.”

  Unless her brain was seriously oxygen-deprived, Quinn had just counted four voices. That was bad odds, even for Nick. Especially if…

  “If he comes in here, pop him.”

  Especially if they were willing to kill him.

  Suddenly, she was less afraid for herself than for Nick. One of the men had said they couldn’t hurt her, so that gave her some control back. Steely calm coated her fear, and strength returned to her body. She was not helpless, and they would not harm Nick.

  She opened her eyes. She lay in front of a workbench at the back of the shadowy garage. A massive pickup truck filled one side, a smaller SUV the other. No one stood by her, but figures moved near the windows at the front of the bays.

  Quinn moved her legs so they’d rasp across the concrete floor.

  “She’s awake,” said the second voice.

  “No duh.”

  “So let’s go.”

  “Not yet.” A big shape, dressed in black and wearing a hat pulled low over his face, hunkered down in front of Quinn. He dangled a huge black pistol in front of his knees. “How you doin’?”

  The gun chilled her more than a vague threat to “pop him.” They had the ability to shoot Nick. If she stalled, pretending to be woozy, that would give Nick time to find her, and he’d be ambushed and maybe killed. Better she was clearheaded and ready to be moved. At least she could get off the floor, figure out her situation. She couldn’t see anything from where she was. Taking a chance, she sat up. Nausea swept over her, but she swallowed hard and willed the coffee and bagel to stay down. “I’m okay.”

  The guy with the gun nodded to someone and a hood came over her head. Damn it. Someone pulled her arms behind her and wrapped her wrists in a zip tie. So much for strength and steely calm.

  “All right, load her up. Jarrett’s gone back inside. We gotta move now.”

  Quinn didn’t fight or even scream. Nick would kill her for letting them haul her to her feet and maneuver her into the SUV, but they didn’t want to hurt her, and he couldn’t save her if he was dead.

  If the SUV had tinted rear windows, Nick wouldn’t be able to see her. But if he saw the vehicle leave the garage, maybe he’d guess she was in it. If he saw the truck.

  The heavy cloth over her head muffled the few words her abductors said to one another and kept her from asking what they wanted with her or who they were. Not that she expected them to answer. They guided her onto the bench seat in the back of the SUV. Someone put on her seat belt, as insufficient as it would be with her arms tied behind her back. Uncomfortable, too. Her shoulders ached already.

  An overhead door rumbled in front of them, and the truck rolled forward. They paused outside—Quinn could tell by the sun hitting her body. The door rumbled again, then the truck rocked sideways as someone got into the front and shut the door. Then they were on the road, and no one said a word.

  Nick hadn’t seen them. They’d have watched for him, to make sure he didn’t follow. Despair swept over her for an instant before she banished it. It was up to her to get out of this, and she had to pay attention, not stew in her own fear. At least Nick was safe.

  They drove without turning for an hour and twelve minutes, stopping in some stretches for what she assumed were stoplights. Then they accelerated and merged onto a highway, judging by their speed and the whoosh of the tires on pavement. They followed the highway for twenty minutes before she spoke.

  “Can someone—” The hood muffled her voice so much she started over, louder. “Can someone please tie my hands in front of me? This is really uncomfortable, and I assume we’ve got a ways to go.”

  No one answered, but chilled metal touched her wrist before the tie gave way with a snap. She sighed and moved her burning shoulders around for a second, but the men didn’t give her much room or time. They re-zipped her hands in front of her, more tightly than they needed to.

  At least her seat belt was on properly now.

  They drove for hours. Quinn started out marking time whenever they got off or onto a highway or made a turn, but it didn’t take long for her to lose track. She sensed the sun going down, the moon rising, and wished like hell it wasn’t nearly a new moon but a full one. Adrenaline had kept her alert for a while, but hours passed with nothing happening but the soothing movement of the car, and though she could breathe fine through the fabric of the hood, it was warm and moist inside. Her head still throbbed, her bruised neck was stiff and tender, and thirst gave her a sore throat. Eventually, staying awake became more and more difficult.

  The men didn’t talk, and that was
eerie. There were at least four of them, maybe more, and in six hours and thirty-three minutes they’d had nothing to say?

  “Bladders of camels, too,” she muttered, squirming. She thanked god she hadn’t had time to drink the second coffee and had used the bathroom right before they left. Still, six hours was a long time not to pee. She’d tried to wait them out but was getting desperate.

  “When are we going to take a bathroom break?” she called out. No one answered, but a few minutes later the truck slowed. Gravel crunched under the tires, and they stopped. The guy on her right stood, cut her hands free, unbuckled her seat belt, and pulled her over to the right side of the seat. Then he wrapped her hands again as the door opened, and he guided her out.

  Her stiff legs protested her weight, and her knees buckled when she stepped down to the ground. The man caught her and steadied her until she could take a step. He led her across a wide expanse of gravel, then stopped her. A spring creaked, like on an old-fashioned screen door. He urged her forward. Her toe thudded against thick plastic. She lifted her foot and found a step up. And caught a whiff of a urinal cake.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers, ma’am.”

  What kind of kidnapper called his victim ma’am? This one had a New England accent. The others didn’t, though, so it was a meaningless detail. His manners calmed her and she reached for the hood, but he stopped her. “Not until you’re inside.”

  Quinn held out her wrists. “Can you at least cut my hands free?”

  “No.”

  “Come on. My fingers are numb! How am I supposed to—”

  “You just are.”

  She would have stared at him incredulously if he could see her face. Manners apparently only went so far. She heaved a put-upon sigh. “If I get anything on my hands, I’m using you as a towel.” She stepped up into the Porta-Potty and waited while the door slammed closed. Then she pulled off her hood and looked around. The dim light from the rest area lamp poles showed that the conditions weren’t too bad. It was a larger unit with an indoor sink and a small pump for water. She draped the hood over the spring and locked the door, then struggled to get her jeans down with her tightly bound hands. It took forever and she didn’t think she’d make it. But her distended bladder held, and she suppressed a moan of relief as she emptied it. Then more struggles to fix her clothes while the guy outside pounded on the door.