Heavy Metal (A Goddesses Rising Novel) (Entangled Select) (27 page)

She shook her head and backed away. He didn’t know if she was withdrawing or giving him permission, but he had no time to weigh his options. He bent back over his former boss, his first love, his friend.

Kind of ironic that he was the only one who could save her.

“Quinn.” He had to connect with her, convince her, but saying her name over and over wasn’t going to do it. “It’s my turn. You know I’ve been wandering. Displaced. This is what I need. It’s my purpose. Don’t take that from me.”

She actually laughed and opened her eyes with a wince. “You are so full of shit.”

“No, he’s not.” Marley appeared and sat cross-legged next to her sister, taking her free hand. “I’m so sorry, Quinn,” she whispered. “All of this is my fault.”

“No, it’s his.” They all turned at Tanda’s hard tone.

She stood behind the sofa, staring at Anson, who had managed to get free of the cot and had obviously planned to sneak out. He was only a few feet from the door. Sam didn’t understand why he didn’t keep going, and then realized why Tanda stood so awkwardly. She held a nine-millimeter in a ready stance, the barrel aimed halfway between the floor and Anson.

“What’s she doing with a gun?” Riley asked in a low voice.

“She’s a PI,” Nick responded, watching Tanda closely. “Which is why she won’t shoot him.”

“You don’t want her to shoot him?” Sam was surprised.

Nick shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t care about him. I don’t think she needs the consequences, after everything that’s happened.”

Tanda ignored all of them, her eyes never leaving their enemy. “You took everything from me. From her.” She jerked her head sideways. Sam didn’t know if she meant Marley or Quinn.

Riley moved closer to Sam, her eyes on Anson. “Look at him. He’s dying.”

Outwardly, Anson looked no better than when he arrived. He tried to stand straight, but his body shook with the effort. His face was paler than the moon, and his eyes were no longer the color of faded denim, but the pale blue of an early-morning sky. The yellow that tinged the edges wasn’t sunshine, but sickness. Anson’s own ambition turning on him.

“Really look,” Riley whispered, and Sam looked deeper. Anson still had the residue of stolen power, but now it was black and oily. All Marley’s, poisoned by the damage Anson had done years ago, by its lost connection to its original vessel. It ate at Anson’s soul. He
was
going to die, and it wouldn’t be the merciful death of Tanda’s bullet.

“Let him go,” Sam said. “Riley’s right. It’s more punishment to turn him loose than hold him.”

Tanda’s hands tightened on her pistol, her finger sliding to the trigger for a second. Then the click of the safety echoed in the tense silence, and she dropped her arms.

Anson turned and left, closing the door gently behind him.

Quinn cried out, her body bowing, her hand twisting out of Sam’s. He cursed and bent over her, begging. Nick added his pleas, and Sam was shocked to see tears on the man’s face.

“I promise you,” Sam murmured in Quinn’s ear, bent low so no one else could hear. “I’ll be okay. You don’t have to carry this burden anymore. Let it go, Quinn. Don’t be selfish.”

The hint of humor on the tail of sincerity did the trick. She relaxed and turned her head to meet his eyes. “You have to swear to one more thing.” She waited for his nod, then amended, “Two more, actually.”

Sam chuckled and gripped her hand more tightly. “Now who’s the greedy one?”

“Promise you won’t lie about what it does to you. We’ll find a way to fix whatever happens, but you have to be honest. Don’t try to carry it alone.”

Since he’d seen what carrying the burden had done to Quinn, he nodded without hesitation. He wouldn’t ever transfer it to someone else, but he’d let others help him deal with it, if they could. Unless it killed him right off the bat. But if that happened, she couldn’t hold him to his promise, anyway.

The possibility gave him pause. “I promise. But give me a minute. There’s something I need to do.”

She nodded. Sam rose, throwing his fear aside, the weight of all of their watchful gazes on him while he took Riley’s arm and moved her away.

“There’s no time for a long speech,” he said softly. “I don’t know what this is going to do to me.”

She nodded and sniffed, lifting her chin as if to belie the moment of weakness. “I know.”

“I don’t know what to say to you.” His throat tightened and he swallowed, frowning. “Except I’m sorry. I l—” He couldn’t say it. He wanted it to be a promise, a comfort, but it might just be pain. “There’s so much between us…and the transfers, what they do to me, have confused everything. I don’t know what I’ll have to off—”

She smiled and pressed her fingers to his mouth. “You don’t owe me anything. You’ve given me so much already. My promise holds, Sam. I’m here for you, no matter what.” Her eyes crinkled, the smile going deeper, tempered by sadness and worry. “We’ll deal with the rest later.”

“I don’t deserve you.” He had so much more to say, and there might not be a later. There definitely wasn’t time now. He slid his hand under her hair, along the side of her neck, and bent to kiss her. She tasted unbearably sweet and soft. Their mouths clung. Hers trembled, and her hand fisted in his shirt. Sam pulled her closer and deepened the kiss but pulled back before the emotion swelling in him could take over. He rested his forehead on hers for a few long seconds and then abruptly backed away, leaving her alone at the side of the room. Pain sliced into his chest, but he forced himself back to Quinn and took her hand.

“I’m ready.” Then he remembered. “Oh, what was the other promise?”

Quinn laughed up at him, looking almost happy despite the way her body contorted in pain. “Never mind.”

He grinned and shook his head. “Still trying to run my life.”

“You seem to be doing okay on your own.” She sobered and tightened her hand around his. “Are you sure about this?”

Sam braced himself and nodded once.

“Get ready.”

But there was no way he could have gotten ready for this. Pure pain, pure
hell
, invaded his body. His vision went dark, not like unconsciousness or lack of light, but churning, boiling clouds of black. The acidic burning that touched him during the transfer to Tanda filled every cell in his body. Sam thought he screamed, felt the rawness in his throat, but could hear nothing but a roar. How the hell had Quinn endured this? How had the natural ability Marley inherited turned to such awful contamination?

As more and more poured into him, Sam lost the ability to think. He couldn’t feel Quinn’s hand anymore, had no idea where he was. Who he was. His only existence was pain.

And then everything stopped.

Chapter Twenty-One

The idea that when two people are meant to be together, nothing can tear them apart is a fallacy. What we must recognize is that some obstacles are impossible to overcome. This does not devalue feelings but enhances them.

—Society Annual Meeting,
Special Session on Relationships

Riley stood in the doorway to Tanda’s guest bedroom, unable to leave Sam and wondering if anything would ever feel okay again.

Her life had changed twice in an unbelievably short time. A week ago, she’d been alone and frightened, certain she was crazy or a freak. Then she’d found a community that denied both possibilities. Somewhere she belonged, could have a life. There’d been hope—despite the bitter truth of her family’s history—and a hot guy who liked her. Then it all fell apart. But in trying to hold it together, she’d found something much deeper and more meaningful than belonging and attraction.

Nothing anyone had said in the last few hours could convince her she wasn’t about to lose it all again. Sam’s screams still echoed in her skull, the most horrible sound she’d ever heard. Helplessness had held her immobile, held them all immobile, during the few seconds, the eternity that Sam had been in more obvious pain than any person could endure. Then it all just…stopped. Sam had gone limp and unresponsive, and still was.

“How is he?” Nick handed her a mug of coffee. Riley took it gratefully, but in the few seconds she tore her eyes from Sam, she saw how haggard Nick looked. Maybe even worse than her.

“No change. Quinn?”

Nick drew in a long breath. “She’s okay. I mean, we keep saying that, but I think she’s finally telling the truth. Except being physically okay won’t matter if this doesn’t get better.” He motioned to Sam with his own mug, then took a long swallow.

“It’s not her fault.” Riley meant it, but her voice rasped as if her throat didn’t want to give up the words. “What about Tanda?”

“Fine. Just like Jennifer and Chloe. No ill effects. They’re pretty much back to normal.” Bitterness sharpened his tone, but Riley couldn’t blame him.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” she whispered.

Nick didn’t answer. He watched Sam lying there unmoving for another moment, then turned and walked away.

Riley went into the bedroom and set her mug on the nightstand. Sam’s forehead was a normal temperature, dry and smooth. His chest rose and fell in an even rhythm, and when she pressed her fingers to the inside of his wrist, his pulse tapped steadily beneath them. Quinn had said she needed time to acclimate to her new state, especially with the moon waning to nothing, but she’d coached Riley through checking Sam for injuries. Everything had seemed fine. There was no physical reason for him to be in this…coma.

Riley lifted his hand to her mouth and pressed her lips to his knuckles. What if, in her inexperience, she’d missed something, and his brain was swelling or bleeding? What if his electrical system was all messed up, or he had permanent psychological damage? Worse, what if the power he’d taken in had overwhelmed him, and he was lost forever?

Except Riley couldn’t find Marley’s power in him. Not a trace of it. And even more, not a trace of anything else. No residue from Tanda or Chloe, or even remnants from Beth. When Sam used his power back in the Numina apartment, he’d reduced it to a nearly unusable level. But Riley had still been able to see the residue, to know where Sam was at any given moment. Now, there was nothing. She could barely detect him at all.

The only thing keeping her from going off the deep end was that his signature was the same as Nick’s, the only other fully non-powerful human in the apartment.

“Riley, dinner’s ready.” Tanda hovered in the doorway. “We’re going to have a meeting. John’s here.”

She sighed. She didn’t want to leave Sam, but whatever they decided they were doing next, she would be part of. After everything that had happened, she had to be.

“I’m coming.” She stood and laid Sam’s arm across his abdomen. Tears pricked behind her eyelids and she blinked them back, suddenly angry. Sam could have told her he loved her, dammit. Instead of laying his guilt on her, apologizing for whatever he thought he’d done wrong. But she could have done the same. Could have put herself out there instead of protecting her heart, a stupid, immature hesitation that might have cost her what little comfort that sharing could have brought her.

She kissed him on the forehead and joined the others in the kitchen. They were already seated around the table, an oak rectangle inlaid with painted ceramic tiles that matched the ivy tiles on the backsplash and the pale green walls. She sat next to Marley and accepted the bowl of pasta Nick handed her.

“How is he?” Quinn asked.

“Same,” Riley managed.

“He’ll be okay,” Tanda tried to assure her, but the words were hollow. Riley nodded anyway. Marley passed a basket of garlic bread to Riley, her eyes lowered. She took it hesitantly, wondering what was wrong but not wanting to ask in front of everyone. Not that it was her place, anyway. Marley had been with Quinn all afternoon, and if she had any problems, she’d tell her sister, not Riley.

“We need to talk about Numina,” John said once all the food had been passed. “I had a pow-wow with Jeannine.” He ignored Nick’s snort of derision. “Her term is almost up, which has made her…reluctant to initiate any real action, even with the possibility that Numina, or Tournado’s snot-nosed group of them, anyway, might have infiltrated us.”

Riley watched Tanda’s hand tighten on her fork, her knuckles going white. Marley kept her head down while she toyed with her pasta, and Riley wasn’t sure she was even listening. Quinn carefully didn’t look at anyone, but Nick had stopped eating and stared at her.

“Um, what about the president elect?” Riley asked. “What’s her take?”

“We kind of don’t have one,” Tanda said. “But it’ll be Quinn.”

Quinn dropped her fork. Riley jumped, alarmed, but understood immediately that Quinn had done it on purpose. She stared back at Nick. Riley could almost see the words zipping back and forth between them.

“Aren’t you going to tell me I’m too weak?” Quinn asked him.

“Are you?” Nick smirked and glanced at Riley. “She’s stuck. She can’t use the excuse of being too sick, and then tell me to back off because she’s fine.”

“I wouldn’t tell you to back off. I’d tell you to take his job.” Quinn jerked her head at John, who grinned.

“Dinner
and
a show. How lucky are we?” He nudged Tanda, who laughed.

Marley stood and walked out of the room, a swirl of blackness following her that confused Riley. She automatically checked her as she had everyone else over the past several days. There was only Marley’s signature emptiness.

The bathroom door closed, and everyone sat awkwardly for a moment before continuing without comment.

“I’ll take his job if you take the one you were elected to,” Nick shot at Quinn.

“Wait, what?” Riley looked around the table. “You said there was no president elect.”

“Quinn refused to run,” Tanda told her. “We elected her anyway. Jeannine wouldn’t hold a special election or appoint anyone because we were all hoping she’d give in.”

“I was off politics,” Quinn said.

“Was?” Nick asked, his voice low, his gaze steady.

Quinn sighed. “I guess. It’s better timing now. Maybe.” She raised an eyebrow at Tanda. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Normal. The
real
normal.”

“I called Jennifer an hour ago,” Nick said. “Still fine.”

“And Chloe sent me an e-mail that she’s got another date with the new guy.” Tanda smiled. “Looks like everything’s fine there too. Like we keep telling you.”

“Yeah, well,” Quinn said wryly, “people—including me—have been saying that for three years without it being true. You can understand my skepticism.”

“So there you go,” Nick told John. “So what’s the plan?”

“We’ve met with a few of Numina’s legitimate leadership. We’ve proceeded cautiously, not knowing what they were up to, but after all this we need to formalize and expand.”

“We need to do research first,” Quinn cut in. “I want to know more before we launch a task force.” She went quiet suddenly and picked up her fork again. Nick’s eyes flicked to the hall, and Riley realized they were thinking about Sam. Their resident research geek.

The distraction the conversation had provided disappeared, and Riley tried to wash down the dry bread lodged in her throat.

John cleared his. “We know the faction going after goddesses has had another setback, with Anson disappearing.”

“Do we really know that though?” Riley asked. She wasn’t afraid of Anson anymore, not after seeing what he’d become. What the poison had done to him. What it was doing to Sam. She couldn’t sit here anymore. As important as all this stuff was, she wasn’t. They didn’t need her for planning.

“Where are you going?” John asked when she stood without paying attention. She’d probably interrupted someone mid-sentence.

“Sorry. I was going to check on Sam.”

“So does that mean you don’t want to be part of the task force?” Quinn asked.

Riley flushed. “No. I mean, well, sure. But why would you want me?”

“Well, let’s see,” Nick said sarcastically. “Why
would
we want a brave, smart, independent goddess who already knows more about Numina than anyone else in the goddess world, and oh, yeah, can
physically detect them
?”

She felt herself go a deeper red. “None of that really means anything. I have no idea what a task force does.”

“We’re not asking you to lead it,” Quinn said, not unkindly. “Just work with us.”

“Of course.” Riley shoved aside her insecurities and saw the value in what she could bring. “Thank you.”

“Planning without me, huh?”

Riley spun at the raspy, tired, but gorgeously deep voice behind her. Sam stood in the kitchen doorway, one hand on his stomach, a sheepish look on his face, and his hair a tousled mess.

“Sam!” Sweet, cathartic relief took Riley’s tension and despair so completely she could barely hold herself upright. Her heart thudded with joy.

“You okay, buddy?” Nick rose and took a few steps to stand, feet wide, close enough to Sam to help him if he needed it, but far enough away not to insult him.

“Yeah, actually, I feel surprisingly good.” His brows came together, a perplexed expression. “I don’t know why. But…it’s gone.”

“What is?” Quinn turned in her chair but didn’t get up. Riley had heard a soft hiss when she moved and knew her recovery was going to be much slower than Sam’s had apparently been.

“Everything.” Sam waved his hand out and slapped it back to his abdomen. “There’s no power left. No residue, no abilities. I’m back the way I was.”

Quinn and Nick looked to Riley, and she did a quick check. He was the same awake as he’d been unconscious. “Still no trace,” she confirmed. Tanda murmured her agreement.

“H-how?” Quinn reached out a hand, as if having to touch Sam to make sure he was as okay as he claimed.

“I don’t know.”

“What happened?” Nick ushered Sam over to his chair and made him sit, then gathered the food toward his end of the table. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, starved, actually.”

“I’ll get you a plate.”

Sam watched Nick quizzically as he collected a plate, glass, and flatware, and raised one eyebrow at Quinn, who shrugged. But Riley could have told him why Nick was being so solicitous. He might hold a lot inside, but Nick cared deeply for his friends. He’d been as afraid for Sam as he’d been for Quinn, though he’d probably threaten to shoot Riley to keep her from telling Sam.

She returned to her seat, letting her knee press against Sam’s under the table. He squeezed her leg for a second. His hand was warm and possessive, and the impression of it lingered even after he removed it.

“So?” she asked him. “What happened when Quinn sent you Marley’s power?”

Sam looked up. “Where is Marley?”

“Down the hall.” Quinn frowned, then smoothed her expression. “You were screaming so horribly, when you stopped, I thought it had killed you.”

He shook his head. “I have no idea. One minute it was invading me, taking over, and the next it was gone.”

“Gone
where?
” Quinn leaned forward. “It can’t just disappear. Energy changes or moves; it can’t be destroyed.”

“I don’t know,” Sam insisted, “but it’s gone. No trace. You know it. You can feel it.”

“Well, not right now I can’t.” Quinn gestured outside. “Moon’s off. But Riley and Tanda say you’re right, so what the hell?”

Sam shrugged and loaded pasta onto his plate, covering it with a healthy serving of meat sauce. “I’m not complaining.” He definitely wasn’t acting like a guy who’d just come out of a coma. Maybe he really was going to be okay.

“No.” Quinn shook her head. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come back to haunt us.”

They spent the next half hour discussing approaches to the Numina problem. Sam had enthusiastically agreed to join the task force, alongside Riley. When they finished eating and cleaning up, Sam took Riley’s hand.

“Would you come outside with me?”

Her heart began pounding the moment he looked at her and only picked up speed as they stepped out onto the balcony and he carefully closed the door behind them. He leaned against the concrete wall, facing her, but crossed his arms and legs. Defensive, closed posture. She tried not to assign reasons for it, but folded her own arms, pretending the breeze was chilly.

“How are you really?” Riley asked him. “I don’t mean physically. But with the power all gone?”

Sam studied her, his mouth curling up on one side. “Of course you’d ask me that.”

“Well, nobody else did.”

“Exactly.” He drew in a deep breath and looked out over Portland for a few seconds. “I’m okay. I don’t think there’s an addiction issue. I’m just…normal.”

“Good. But you know that’s not what I meant. Do you miss it?” A person didn’t have to be addicted to something to become obsessive about it when it was gone.

“Maybe.” His brow puckered. “I mostly miss seeing you.”

Riley blushed.

“Your power, I mean. All the other stuff…I didn’t have it long enough to get acclimated to it. And, yeah, it felt good to have a weapon against Anson when I needed it, but…” His mouth turned down, and he shook his head. “Nah. I don’t need that. I have other weapons at my disposal.”