Under the Moon (Goddesses Rising) Read online

  She waited until they’d gone a few miles and traffic thinned out away from the exit. The rain had lightened a little, too, so she opened the bag and offered Nick a sandwich. “Ham and cheese, turkey, or PB and J.”

  “Ham. Thanks.” He set it on his thigh. Quinn pulled out the PB and J for herself and flipped up the little tab on her coffee lid to drink. Nick stopped unwrapping his sandwich and looked around, sniffing. “What the hell is that smell?”

  “What smell?” She picked up the sandwich and sniffed it. “Seems okay to me.” She unwrapped half and handed it back to him. He smelled it.

  “No, not that. Smells…sweet. Like an air freshener.” He looked at her incredulously, then quickly back at the road. Taillights flashed ahead of them. “You didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?” She lifted her coffee cup to her mouth again and realized what he’d smelled. “Oh, my coffee.”

  “What the hell? Did you get one of those powdered mix things?”

  “No! I drained the dark roast for you. All that was left was decaf or French vanilla.”

  He made a gagging noise. “Well, drink it fast. That crap lingers.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Nick tore into the sandwich, devouring the first half in three bites. “How long did you sleep?” he asked.

  “Three hours, fifty-eight minutes.” She opened both bags of chips and set one against Nick’s hip. “Why? You need to nap?”

  “Hell no. But you’re not the most fun traveling companion.” He leaned forward and squinted into the rain. “Let’s play the alphabet game or something.”

  Quinn finished her sandwich and balled the wrapper. “I’m going to check in with Sam.” She turned on her phone and waited for it to acquire a signal, then a little longer to see if she had any messages. There were two.

  Sam had called two hours ago. “Quinn, call me as soon as you get this. It’s important.” He sounded upset.

  The other message had been received right after Sam’s. “Quinn, it’s Alana. I heard about the…disturbance at your hotel last night. I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Call me.”

  “Huh.”

  Nick didn’t take his eyes off the now-crowded road ahead. “What?”

  She told him about the messages. “How would she have heard about the disturbance? Or known it was our hotel?” They were rhetorical questions, so she dialed Sam.

  “You didn’t tell her where we were staying?” Nick asked.

  “I don’t think so. Hi, Sam, it’s me. Sorry I took—”

  He cut her off. “Why didn’t you tell me you were attacked in Boston?”

  Taken aback, she stuttered. “I—we—there wasn’t time. And it wasn’t really an attack.”

  “Put it on speaker,” Nick urged.

  She hated the way speakerphone made the phone mute whenever one side was talking, but she did as he’d asked.

  “—inn, your hotel suite was destroyed. They called the bar. Katie put on call forwarding to her home phone in case some of the clients I canceled called back. She said they’re charging you several thousand dollars for damage to the walls and furniture. So unless you and Nick were partying hard, you were attacked.”

  “Why else would we be on the run, Sam?” Nick interjected. “This can’t be a surprise.”

  “I thought you learned something. I didn’t know you were in immediate danger. Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  Quinn and Nick exchanged a look. “When we left the hotel, it was mostly noise,” she said. “I thought they’d know we left and stop. What was damaged?”

  “The sofa in the outer room and the bed.”

  “They were shooting blind,” Nick murmured. “Probably assumed we’d be sleeping that way.”

  “And they didn’t have enough power to strike both simultaneously,” Quinn added, “because the bedroom was clear when we went in.”

  “Not enough power,” Nick mused, “or inexperience using it?”

  “You still should have gone to the authorities,” Sam insisted. “Someone should know what’s going on.”

  “And tell them what?” Nick asked. “There was a poltergeist with a crystal voice? They’d never buy it.”

  “They—”

  “He’s right, Sam. The authorities aren’t comfortable with the whole goddess thing. The Society handles stuff like this internally whenever they can.”

  “Except they’re not exactly on your side right now, are they?”

  No one answered. He was right, and if there really had been damage in the hotel, it meant Quinn and Nick’s assumption that the attacker hadn’t wanted to harm them was wrong. She hoped her staff would be safe away from the bar.

  “All right.” Sam still sounded disgruntled. “I just wanted you to know what was going on. Where are you?”

  “A couple of hours out, with this rain. Are you there?”

  “Not yet. I think I’m a little ahead of you. I’ll stop for supplies when I get to town. Any requests?”

  “No.”

  “Yes!” Nick shouted. “Something hearty! None of your roots-and-berries crap. I want— Jesus!” He wrenched the wheel to swerve around a tire flying out of the rain straight at them.

  Quinn screamed and lost her grip on the phone, her hands flying to brace on the dash and the door beside her, the tire’s tread pattern burning itself into her brain before the Charger responded and skidded left. Horns blared and tires screeched as the cars in the left lane tried to avoid them and the ones behind responded to the tire. Metal crunched and Quinn twisted to look back. The tire had disappeared behind the sprawled vehicles, but a minivan was crumpled against the median. No one was in danger of rear-ending the Charger, and Quinn’s heart resumed its normal rate.

  “What the hell?” She turned back to face front, swallowing against the metallic tang in the back of her throat while Nick slowed even more, taillights still flashing ahead of them, though traffic hadn’t stopped completely.

  “Look.” Nick pointed at the source of the tire, an overturned Camaro half on the shoulder, half blocking the right lane. They stared at the smashed passenger side door and front quarter panel, the steam rising from the undercarriage, as they rolled by.

  “Oh my god.”

  “Is that—?” Nick started.

  “Yes.” Quinn’s body had turned to ice, and she became intensely aware of the silent phone at her feet. “Pull over.”

  It was Sam’s car.

  Chapter Five

  The true origin of our ancestry has been lost to time and secrecy. Very little is known about our beginnings, but it is believed we are descended from the lines of powerful humans who spawned the tales of the Greek, Roman, and Norse goddesses. Because our heritage is stuff of legend rather than true history, how we use our abilities is of utmost importance.

  —The Society for Goddess Education and Defense booklet, “From Isis to Freya”

  …

  Quinn shoved her door open before Nick finished swinging the car to the shoulder in front of the overturned vehicle. Nonononono. Not Sam not Sam not Sam. She leapt out, skidding on the loose gravel, shouting his name as she ran in slow motion. Nothing moved except a slowly spinning front wheel. The rear tire on the passenger side was gone. The smell of burned rubber stung her nostrils, hot despite the cold rain. The car listed toward the road, the roof over the driver’s side mostly intact. He always wears his seat belt. He’s okay. He’s got to be okay. But raindrops splashed into her eyes and shadows blocked her view through the windshield. She couldn’t convince herself.

  Nick sped past her. “Sam!” He slid onto the ground like a batter to second base, looking into the car. “Sam! Sam, buddy, can you hear me?”

  Quinn landed on her knees in the sharp gravel next to him, desperate to hear Sam’s voice. But it didn’t come. He hung upside down in the car, his seat belt locking him in place. His hands lay limp on the ceiling and his forehead bled. “Sam!” She reached in through the smashed side window to touch his face. He didn’t respond. “God, Sammy
. Please.”

  “Let me brace him.” Nick grabbed Sam’s shoulders. “See if you can undo his seat belt.”

  Panic fading, doused by action, Quinn flipped onto her back, squinting against the droplets splattering her face. Glass bit into her back as she dragged herself into the vehicle, trying not to brush against Sam in case he had a neck injury. They shouldn’t move him out of there until they knew what kind of damage had been done.

  “Sam.” She touched his face again. His skin was reassuringly warm, his breath even against her hand. The flashes of panic stilled. “Sam. Can you hear me? Come on, sweetie.” She fought not to tap him harder or shake him to try to wake him up. The cut on his head wasn’t deep, but it had already purpled, and head injuries were so dangerous. She tried not to think about that, to focus instead on what to do. Sam moaned and moved his arms but didn’t open his eyes.

  “Quinn, we’ve got to get him out.” There were sirens in the distance, but they didn’t sound like they were getting closer. “We’re sitting ducks out here.”

  Which meant Nick thought someone had deliberately caused this accident. Maybe he was only being the protector again, but she trusted his judgment. With gentle hands, she palpated Sam’s neck a little. It felt normal, but she was no medical professional. If she had power, she could identify an injury—but she didn’t. Helpless, and aware that the longer she waited, the more at risk they were, she pulled herself deeper into the car and reached for the seat belt.

  “Brace him good, Nick.” She swallowed against queasiness. If they hurt him worse…she felt Nick shift, and his arms moved past her legs to wrap around Sam’s shoulders.

  “When you release the latch,” Nick said, “we’ll maneuver him in your way. You can support his head and shoulders while I get his legs out.”

  Quinn looked up at where Sam’s long legs were wedged under the dash. It bowed inward in the center, away from the partially crushed passenger side.

  “It looks like they might be trapped,” she warned.

  “I know. I don’t think they’re busted, though, just maybe wedged.”

  “Should you get them out first? I don’t want to break his leg when he falls off the seat.”

  “We’ve got to reverse his circulation. If he has a head injury…”

  Pooling blood in his brain could cause further damage.

  “Okay, here goes.” She reached up, held her breath, and pressed hard on the seat belt latch.

  She’d expected it to be jammed from Sam’s weight on it, so when it gave way she wasn’t ready. Nick didn’t have a good angle or the strength to hold all Sam’s weight against gravity. Quinn barely kept Sam’s head straight as he came down on top of her, shoving the air out of her lungs. She wheezed and curled her fists into his jacket to drag him up her torso, trying to straighten his body. Nick cursed and pushed himself into the foot well. One of Sam’s legs came free, then the other, his boot heels thudding onto Quinn’s knees.

  She struggled for air but kept Sam’s head cradled on her chest while Nick backed out of the car, coughing. Her lungs recovered and filled, and she tightened her hold on Sam, praying she wasn’t doing it wrong. Nick straightened Sam’s legs along hers, then gripped her ankles and dragged them out of the car. When they were clear, he eased Sam off Quinn and onto the gravel shoulder.

  The rain hitting his face roused him, and he jerked his arm up to block it. Quinn struggled upright, weak with relief, her back and thighs throbbing from being dragged across the hard metal edge of the roof. Cuts on her back and shoulders stung, but she ignored them and bent over Sam, trying to block the rain.

  “Sam.” She touched his face, her fingers trembling. “Are you okay?”

  Nick pulled off his coat and draped it over her to shelter them both.

  Sam sighed and blinked blearily up at Quinn. “What the fuck?”

  “Oh, thank god.” The pain in her chest receded, leaving her feeling raw but whole. She fisted her hands in his jacket and bent her face to his solid chest. His hand cupped the back of her head, and she stifled a sob. Leave it to Sam to try to comfort her when he’d been smashed up.

  She pulled back. “I don’t know.” Her hands shook as she released him.

  “No, seriously.” He tried to roll to his side, but Quinn pressed him back down. “What the fuck happened?”

  “Your car flipped. What do you remember?”

  Sam frowned. The movement pulled at his cut, releasing a tiny trickle of blood, and turned his expression into a wince. He touched his forehead. “Something rolled me. Is the car…?”

  “Yeah. Can you move your legs?”

  His boots scraped on the gravel. “Yeah. I think I’m okay. Hurts. But not bad.” He made to sit up and Quinn backed off to give him room. She watched his movements carefully. He wouldn’t tell the truth about his injuries. Only once she got to her feet so she could hold the jacket over his head did she become aware of all the people standing around the Camaro. A state police car sat several yards behind them, lights flashing. The trooper stood next to his vehicle, talking urgently on the radio he’d pulled through the window, probably reporting in before approaching the wreck. She could see the top of an ambulance winding through the gridlock. They weren’t getting out of here anytime soon.

  A man in the crowd made eye contact with her. Her heart skipped, but he turned to talk to the woman beside him, his body language unthreatening. Maybe Quinn was paranoid to think someone could have caused the accident on purpose, but given everything that had happened lately, it was safer to assume so.

  “Nick.” Sam’s voice was weak.

  Nick crouched next to him. Quinn couldn’t hear what he said, but Nick nodded, then crawled inside the car. He backed out with a laptop case and a huge canvas duffel that almost didn’t fit through the bent window. He carried them toward the Charger as the trooper approached.

  “How’s he doin’, ma’am?” The trooper touched the brim of his hat and settled on his heels at Sam’s feet.

  “I’m not sure. He seems okay.”

  “I’m fine.” Sam pulled his feet under him to rise but wobbled on the hand braced on the ground and sat back down. He pressed his fingers to his eyes.

  “Lightheaded?” Quinn asked. He nodded. She put her hand on the back of his neck, wishing she could do something.

  “You know him?” The trooper stood.

  “Yes, sir, we were a short ways back. We were on the phone with him, as a matter of fact, when it happened.”

  The officer looked disapproving. “You hear it?”

  “No. It was on speaker, and we were talking on our side.”

  “You see anything?”

  Nick joined them on the shoulder. “The wheel flying by, that’s it. Doesn’t look like any other car was involved.”

  “It wasn’t.” Sam braced himself again. Nick bent to help him up and steadied him when he swayed. Quinn slipped under his other arm to take some of his weight. His T-shirt was soaked through, and fine tremors shook his torso.

  “What happened, son?”

  Sam squeezed his eyes shut and blinked them back open, as if his vision were fuzzy. “I’m not sure, Officer.”

  The ambulance had made its way to the crowded shoulder, and paramedics hustled over. Sam threw Quinn a pleading look as they led him to the ambulance, but she didn’t know what she could do. He was hurt, and she had no power to heal him. They would be safe here with paramedics and state police around.

  The trooper asked Nick and Quinn a few more questions. When he seemed to have all the answers they could give, he moved on to canvass the onlookers for eyewitnesses. As soon as Sam was taken to the ambulance, though, the people who’d stopped to help or watch thinned out. Traffic streamed by at a faster rate now, and in minutes a tow truck appeared.

  “Crap,” Nick muttered. “Sam’s gonna freak about them towing his car.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Quinn walked over as the driver climbed down from the tow truck’s cab and eyed the flipped Camaro.

&nbs
p; “That’s my friend’s car,” she told him. “Where are you going to take it?”

  “Garage in Angola.” He handed her a business card. “Where’s the driver?”

  “He’s in the ambulance. I can fill out any paperwork you have.”

  “Here.” He harrumphed and handed her a clipboard and pen. “I gotta talk to the cop.” He lumbered off. Quinn quickly filled out the form and signed it, then left it on the seat and hurried back to Nick, who leaned against the Charger, waiting for her.

  He looked grim and pocketed the business card she handed him. “Every record created from this thing is going to flash a trail.”

  “I know. Police report, tow, ambulance, hospital.” She looked back to where Sam sat on the ambulance bumper. “At least it happened here, not right outside of Benton Harbor.” They were far enough away that whoever had done this—still assuming it had been deliberate—wouldn’t be able to guess their destination.

  “Whatever. We’ll deal.” Nick gave the back of her neck a little squeeze and left his hand there as they watched the paramedics take care of Sam. The warmth could only counter the rain where he made contact, but it was enough to ease Quinn’s worry. One thing at a time, and right now, the one thing had to be Sam.

  “Could this have been deliberate?” she asked Nick. “How could someone flip a car without being on the road?”

  “We have to find out what Sam saw.” Nick pointed up the slight rise at the side of the road. “There’s a vantage point that could have given enough visual notice, and you know how it could be done.”

  “A goddess again,” Quinn agreed miserably. “Just like the hotel room.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions until we talk to Sam. It might have been an accident.”

  But what if it hadn’t been? She eyed the crowd with fresh eyes, worried now about an innocent being hurt if the attacker tried again. They had to wrap this up as soon as possible.

  When the paramedics seemed to be finishing up with Sam, Nick and Quinn walked over. The woman smoothing a butterfly bandage over his cut looked up at them curiously.