Quinn gripped the edges of the chair she sat in and tried not to think about Carl the zombie or where his hand had gone. Or that he was a verified zombie. Or that he needed duct-tape with him at all times to keep his essential parts from falling off.
Marty rolled up the sleeve of her sweater and ran gentle fingers over Quinn’s elbow. “I think we’re going to need more Band-Aids. Arch? Band-Aid, stat, please!”
She felt so fussed over, so nurtured, it was almost overwhelming. From the moment she’d hobbled into her apartment, still brimming with people, they’d all worked as one. Everyone had a job, from Arch right down to Nina, and they all knew their roles.
“I’m okay, really, Marty. I can do this. I’ve been single and taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t want to put you out. Don’t you have a little girl and a husband you should be with?”
“I definitely do, and I love them more than I love my shoes and my false eyelashes—”
“Which is a huge admission for our ass-sniffer here,” Nina crowed with a chuckle.
Marty shook her head, the jingle of her bracelets clacking together in a symphony of silver and gold. “But we all need something that fulfills us outside of our families, right? Something just for us. Doing this, OOPS, I mean, helping people who are scared and unsure in a world that’s far scarier than the human one, is what I love.”
Marty’s words made her chest tight and her eyes well up. She was a hot mess of emotions tonight, a myriad of oversensitive nerve endings and feelings she didn’t know how to absorb.
As a result, her words stuck to the roof of her mouth like peanut butter, but she needed them to know how much she appreciated everyone setting their lives aside for her because she was such a chicken. “I’m so grateful to Ingrid and you and Wanda and everyone else. Even Nina. I…”
Marty’s perfectly made-up eyes twinkled as she lifted Quinn’s leg and tentatively touched her ankle. “If you didn’t let us help, it’d be an arrow to our hearts, kiddo. Where would we be if we didn’t have someone to take care of, Wanda? And you don’t have to do anything on your own anymore if you don’t want to. You have us. Like it or not. Now lean back and relax and let us mother hen you to death. It’s what we live for.”
Wanda chuckled, pressing some antibiotic cream to Quinn’s road-rashed cheek. “We do, indeed. So tell us what the heck happened, for gravy’s sake? You look like you went a couple rounds with Holyfield, honey.”
Quinn shook her head in a slow motion of total confusion and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. One minute I was kis—Um, fist-bumping Khristos over my first matchmaking success, the next I was rolling around on the concrete like a plastic bag, blowing in the wind.”
Which was so damn strange. She remembered her foot slipping from the curb, something she was going to attribute to the wow factor Khristos’s kiss had evoked, but she had no clue how she’d managed to hit the ground with such force. Enough force to cause her to skid along the concrete, scraping her until she was raw and bruised.
Marty stopped pressing an ice compress to Quinn’s ankle and sighed a breathy sigh, giving her hand a light squeeze. “Khristos told us all about your awesome matchmaking. How incredible and heroic and so dreamy!”
Her heart warmed all over again just thinking about the moment that arrow hit that man on the bridge. It humbled her, left her in awe. “It was magic. Like no other kind of magic.” Ever.
Wanda held up the peroxide and dipped another cotton ball in it with a smile. “Love in all its perfect imperfection. We’re so proud of you, Quinn. Way to really make a go of this crazy turn of events in your life!”
Quinn’s heart literally glowed at Wanda’s warm approval. All these feels were beginning to make her question everything in her life. She’d never needed a cheering section before this Aphrodite thing had gone down. Yet, hearing she’d done something well, hearing it out loud, was becoming addictive.
Ingrid flew into her apartment, the door slamming behind her with a klunk. “Oh my God, Quinn! Are you okay? I left class the second I got Nina’s text. I would have been here sooner, but the stupid subway was all backed up.” She dropped down next to Quinn in a chair and reached for her hand with a wince.
She smiled at Ingrid. “I’m okay. I really am. Just a little beat up.”
Ingrid dropped her backpack at her feet and leaned in to examine Quinn’s roughed-up face. “You have a hella shiner. I thought you said you were going to take care of my girl, Khristos?”
Khristos ran a hand through his dark locks and shook his head in wonder. He’d been hovering over her before the women had shooed him away in order to allow them to do their thing, but he was never very far.
“I don’t know what happened, Ingrid. It’s like Quinn was just telling Marty and Wanda. One minute we were celebrating, the next, it was as if an invisible hand shot out of the dark like a bat outta hell and pushed her. The force of it knocked her to the ground.” His tone implied worry and concern.
He’d only apologized a hundred times on the piggyback ride home he’d given her because he was certain she’d sprained her ankle.
Quinn avoided looking at him, but only because she was so deeply ensconced in having Wanda and Marty patch her up. Yes, siree—that was exactly why she was avoiding looking at him. These women were fascinating. “But I don’t remember feeling like I was pushed…”
“That’s because you weren’t standing in front of you. It looked like someone steamrolled you from the left. I know that’s crazy, but that’s how it looked from my perspective.”
Nina strode back into the living room, now awash with more bodies than Quinn ever thought was possible to fit into this small space. She held up a hand and a roll of duct tape.
Oh, Jesus and some adhesive—she held a hand.
“Did you say it looked like someone pushed her, dude?”
Khristos nodded, his face a mask of concern. “With force.”
Nina’s shoulders slumped when she moaned. “Aw, fuck.”
“Aw, fuck, what?” Quinn asked. “Aw, fuck” couldn’t be good.
Marty waved an admonishing hand at her. “Language, please, Dark One. I swear, it’s like you don’t even try. Charlie’s going to end up in detention at daycare before she can even walk.”
“Blow me, Girdle Queen. This calls for an ‘aw, fuck’. I knew it. I GD knew it. Every time I damn well think we got shit all sewn up, we got a big, fat black fucking hole.”
Quinn suddenly couldn’t breathe. “Knew what?”
Nina glanced down at her, her coal-black eyes somber. “Bad guys, kiddo. I’d bet a month’s worth of my blood supply.”
And just when everything was going so swimmingly.
* * * *
Khristos forced his hands to stay in the pockets of his jeans rather than check every square inch of Quinn’s battered body. He fought even glancing at her lips—full, ripe lips that had been perfect against his.
He pulled Nina to the kitchen instead and looked her dead in the eye.
“I’m worried you might be right.”
She rolled her eyes in return. “I’m always right, dude. I can smell bad from a hundred miles away. I don’t want to eff up Guru of Love’s mojo, so I’ll keep this between you and me for now, but shit ain’t right. What’s your take?”
Was it fair to keep the possibility of danger from Quinn? She should always be aware, but Nina was right. It would create havoc with her intuitiveness, which, given the situation, could change the entire future of the world.
“Tell me your thoughts and we’ll make a decision based on them.”
“I think you know the answer to that, dude. Mini-goddess has got little bones—little, breakable bones. She came out of that fall like she went a round in a street fight. It hurt me to look at her, and I don’t feel much of anything since I was turned, physically speaking. So the question is, who’d want to hurt the love guru? You think your mother would do this? She didn’t strike me as a total bitch when I met her, but what the f
uck do I know about you crazy motherfuckers? I mean, you guys don’t shit around when you’re hacked off. What kind of guy turns a chick into a cow because he doesn’t want to get caught slammin’ her behind his wife’s back?”
Khristos shook his head, racking his brain. “My mother’s many things, spiteful on occasion, even vengeful, but to physically hurt someone isn’t her style, Nina. Iris was my mother’s choice to receive her powers, but Iris is the Goddess of Rainbows. She’ll be bent out of shape when she finds out she’s not next in line, no doubt, but she’s not violent. It’s not like Thunderdome—not these days, anyway.”
She ignored his joke and looked right at him, her eyes full of concern. “Then we have a problem, my friend.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was really worried they did have a problem because the power of that blow had knocked Quinn’s small frame over and she’d crumpled like a rag doll. No one in sight, and absolutely no reason for her to have fallen with the amount of force she did.
His centuries-long life had passed before his damn eyes when she’d been pulled from his arms and knocked to the ground. He’d never moved as fast as he had when he’d seen her beautiful face scrape the harsh black pavement.
He’d let himself get carried away with that kiss, with her curves finally pressed into his willing hands, with her soft lips moaning against his—and he was paying for it.
Nina slapped him on the back. “Look, I know you’re kind is pretty tough, and you can make shit appear out of thin air or whatever. I’m not knocking your manliness, buddy, but you and your lady love didn’t get any superhuman strength or speed or any of the things me and those two nuts in there have. She has hearts and flowers and fucking unicorns on her side. That means she’s vulnerable, and I ain’t likin’ that crap. She can’t protect herself if we’re dealing with some deity who’s a badass with lightning bolts or cows or whatever you nutbag bitches can come up with. So we got your back. She’s Ingrid’s friend, and I promised I’d make sure she was safe. No more matchmaking alone without me, Darnell, Marty or Wanda, got that?”
Nina was right. He had no powers other than immortality, the ability to know true love, and making things appear and disappear. He wasn’t a god, his skills were minimal, but if it came down to it, he’d damn well use everything he had in him to keep Quinn safe.
“Fair enough.”
Nina yanked at the duct tape, pulling a piece off as she leaned her hip against the gray-and-white granite countertop in the kitchen. “Where is your mother, anyway? You’d think she’d be tweaked as hell right now, all ragin’ at you for taking her toys.”
“Yeah. You’d think that. Strangely, not a damn word. It’s as if she fell off the face of the earth.” He’d tried like hell to get in touch with her. He’d Facebooked, tweeted, texted, called.
But she was unreachable, and no one, not Zeus, not his batty wife Hera, none of her closest god friends knew where she was. Since her powers had been transferred to Quinn, she was persona non grata.
Nina put a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look at her. “Is there something you’re not telling us, dude? Because look, I get this is an inconvenience for you. I know you’re rather be doin’ belly shots off some hot stray goddess than skippin’ around the city, playing Love Connection. But is there anything else about the apple we should know? Some rare legend? Some stupid, frigged-up rule no one knows about but your mom? It’s happened to us more times than I care to count. So don’t fuck with me now. Your best bet is to just spit it out. Don’t make me play a game I don’t have all the rules for, cuz old friends or not, I’ll fuck you and all your organs right the hell up.”
Nothing. There was nothing he could think of, no one he could think of who’d knock Quinn on her ass in order to become Aphrodite.
Her ass.
Shit, he had to stop thinking about that particular part of her body, along with her smile, and the way she got that wide-eyed look when she was staring off into space, trying hard not to be the daydreamer she was.
He liked that she was a dreamer. He didn’t meet many women who weren’t so entrenched in their past bad relationship experiences that it colored everything they did. And in most cases, they had every right to those feelings.
He liked that she had a picture of her and a cardboard Mr. Darcy sitting on her dresser. He liked that she liked frilly ruffles, and lacy clothes, and anything ultra-feminine.
He hated Jane Austen’s work, but he loved that Quinn loved it. Because that was who she was. Not a chance in hell would he sit around and read Keats with her, but he’d certainly smile while she did as he watched a game or caught up on his Grisham, if it made her happy.
There was an innocence to Quinn’s outlook, and though she was still stinging right now from her breakup with a wishy-washy mockery of a man, her vow to be more realistic was all a sham. He liked that she kept trying, even when she didn’t realize she was.
She’d always gasp at the wonder of love and its many miracles just the way she’d gasped over the magic of the arrow tonight. She might be fighting it right now, but it would always be in Quinn’s nature to keep reaching, to keep hoping. She just had to learn the difference between hope and a lost cause.
Which Igor had been. Stupid, too, if he were pressed to label.
Her joy, her happiness…it did something to the inside of his chest. Something he wasn’t sure he wanted floating around his insides as if it belonged there.
He just had to stop thinking about the kiss; if he could do that, it would be all right. It was just a kiss. He’d kissed plenty of women. Quinn was no different.
Oh, stop now. She was so different.
“Khris?” Nina prodded.
“No. There’s no secret, no hidden issues that I know of personally, attached to that apple.”
Nina pursed her lips and scanned his face. “Okay. But I’m telling you—”
“I know, I know,” he said on a laugh. “You’ll kick my sorry, powerless ass. Loud and clear.”
He definitely got it. He just hoped he was right.
* * * *
Carl sat across the table from Quinn and smiled, his grin lopsided, his face greenish in cast as Nina reattached his hand to his wrist. When she was done, she ruffled his dark hair and smiled. “Good job, buddy. You sat really still this time. Now, no more taking off like that, got it? Big, scary city out there, and if something happened to your wandering butt, I’d be heartbroken, okay?”
Carl nodded and thumped the table with his hand then he turned his gaze back to Quinn.
Who tried to keep it together. Because zombie. Like, real zombie. Sitting-right-in-front-of-her, happy-as-a-clam zombie, completely unaware he was about as hard to digest as finding out there really was a Santa Claus.
But to look at Carl, to see him up close, well…he really was darling. Gentle as a lamb as he stroked Buffy’s head, who’d decided Carl had the best lap ever and had curled herself right into it as though she never planned to leave.
Archibald brought a plate of broccoli with a napkin and set it beside him, straightening to gaze down at Carl and give him a look of reproach. “All right, young man, enjoy your snack, but in no way should you consider this a reward for your poor behavior. I’m absolutely doing this against my better judgment. You will be the death of Grampa Archibald, Carl. If anything happened to you while you were out carousing as though zombies are not something the great people of New York City would burn at the stake, I’d never forgive myself. You must stop making me fret like that.”
Carl lifted his lips in his adorably lopsided grin and reached upward, patting Archibald’s chin in an obvious apology.
Archibald grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Don’t you try to soften me up either. Next time you behave poorly, there will be no Goodnight Moon for you before bedtime. Understood?”
Carl bobbed his head and nabbed a piece of broccoli, driving it into his mouth and chomping, green stems falling to his shirt where Nina had tucked a napkin into his collar.
In
grid set a steaming cup of tea in front of Quinn and sat next to her at the table. She leaned forward and nudged her with a shoulder. “You okay?”
“Zombie.”
Ingrid giggled. “Yep.”
“He’s so—so—precious,” she whispered in pure wonder.
“That he is. And he’s amazing with the kids.”
“This week has had more fangs and fur than a mash-up episode of The Vampire Diaries and Teen Wolf.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
Quinn gave her a skeptical sidelong glance, leaning her head on her hand. “Are you shrinking me right now, Ingrid Lawson?”
“I’m just checking on your emotional barometer. It’s in the pamphlet, if you want to read it. I brought one with me from the office. According to the bosses, you should be having some serious swings in your emotional state. You know, the five stages thing Nina talked about. I just want to keep on top of it. So how do you feel?”
How did she feel? Earlier she’d been euphoric. Sharing that moment with Khristos and two people who had no idea anyone else in the world existed in that moment in time was amazing—fulfilling.
But now? Now she was projecting into the future, when she’d have to explain to her parents and her coworkers she was responsible for helping to repopulate the world.
How did you sit someone down and tell them you couldn’t come to work today because you had to make sure the world kept evolving—forever?
Hey, Mom, what did you do today? Wait. No, don’t tell me. Bet it doesn’t beat what I did today. Know what I did today? I ordered Cupid to shoot glow-in-the-dark arrows at people who are soul mates. You know, those things you staunchly disregard as real?
Worse, she worried about when she’d have to do this on her own without someone to share it with. What fun was helping true love along if you didn’t have someone to share it with?
“Quinn?”
She patted Ingrid’s hand. “I’m hanging in there. Everything’s going to be okay.” Okay, okay, okay. She’d only told herself that a hundred times since the day began.
Accidentally Aphrodite (Accidentally Paranormal Novel Book 10) Page 11