Heavy Metal gr-2

by Natalie J. Damschroder

  “Beth’s power is almost gone. So she thinks that won’t be a problem.”

  “Right,” Sam agreed. “And whatever tiny bit is left can stay in me until it fades naturally, like it has since she died.”

  “But Marley’s power can’t stay in Quinn. It’s strangling her.”

  He pulled up a folder of bookmarks to see what resources he hadn’t tried yet. Medical care, but Anson hadn’t been hurt in the confrontation. Though… Sam thought about how sick Quinn was. There was a slim possibility the power Anson stole was making him sick, too. He shrugged and clicked a bookmark for a site that he knew was completely illegal.

  “Sam!”

  He jumped a little at her near shout and turned his attention away from the computer. “What?”

  “I don’t want you to do it.” Her hazel eyes were as dark as he’d ever seen them, tired and filled with worry. And something else that set his heart pounding.

  “Do what?”

  “Take Marley’s power. It can’t go anywhere, and it’s poison. That’s the word you used.”

  Sam stretched his arms over his head and winced as his back cracked. “We don’t know how it will affect me.”

  “We know how it’s affecting Quinn. Why would you be any different?”

  “I can’t leave—” He stopped. He didn’t want to talk about this. He had to take that power from Quinn. He was the only one who could. There were no other options. No point in debating it.

  That was the problem. He knew it might leave him completely debilitated. He was willing to accept that, to make that choice. The uncertainty of what would happen kept him from telling Riley how he felt. The last thing he wanted was for her to think she had some obligation to keep taking care of him afterward, even when he had nothing to give her.

  “I know, Sam.” She put her hand over his, her voice soft and hurt. “But you can’t keep it. Transfer it to me.”

  “What? No!” He lurched to his feet and moved away a couple of paces. “What’s the difference between leaving it in Quinn or putting it in you?” Wow, that hadn’t come out right. “I won’t do that to you, Riley. I won’t deliberately do something to hurt you.” He said it significantly, not looking away from her eyes, hoping she understood.

  “But—”

  The apartment door slammed open. Riley jumped up and Sam spun, half expecting a battered Marley or Tanda to fall through.

  Never in a million years would he have expected Anson.

  He looked horrible, like patient zero in an epidemic movie. His face was pasty, with shadows around his eyes so dark they were almost black, the eyelids red, the blue glow of his eyes almost visible turmoil. His lips were cracked and dry, his clothes rumpled and stained, his hair standing on end—and, Sam was pretty sure, missing tufts.

  “Sam,” he croaked. “I’m sorry.”

  And then he passed out on the carpet.

  Nick appeared in the doorway. “Where the hell did he come from?”

  “I don’t know.” Sam leaped the two steps up to the foyer area and stood next to Nick, looking down at Anson. “What a mess.”

  “This had better not be another fucking ambush.” Nick checked the hall, then closed and locked all six locks. “Where are Tanda and Marley?”

  “Store,” Riley said. She’d stayed right where she was, on the far side of the room. Her expression bore no sympathy for Anson. “He’s sick like Quinn.”

  “What?” Sam focused to view his energy, and sure enough, the power he’d taken looked like Quinn’s…with Tanda’s silvery tendrils gliding around the furious, thrashing power that had been Marley’s. “Good,” he stated with grim satisfaction. “Serves him right.”

  “Maybe.” Riley took a few steps closer. “But he’s here. We can take it back. Complete the transfers, so Quinn can get better.”

  “Yes.” Sam suddenly felt lighter than he had for days. Weeks, even. “Nick—”

  “I’ll get her. Call Tanda,” he ordered Riley, but she already had her phone out.

  Sam bent to slap Anson on the face. “Wake up.”

  It took a few more slaps, but he blinked awake. When he saw Sam looming over him, he lunged upward, clutching his flannel shirt in both hands. “I’m sorry. I know you won’t believe me, and I know you’ll think it’s because it’s killing me, but I am sorry. I promise, if you help get this out of me, you’ll never see me again.”

  “Don’t worry. We’re way ahead of you.”

  In a short time, Sam had Anson strapped down on a cot next to Quinn’s bed. They weren’t taking any chances. Quinn lay on her side, a hungry look on her hollowed face as she watched them get everything ready. Riley stood behind her, one hand on a tall brass lamp, the other on Quinn’s shoulder, feeding her strength again.

  “All right. What do you need?” Nick asked Quinn.

  “Nothing. This part I can do myself.” But she didn’t reach for Anson. “Why didn’t you take more?” she asked him.

  His mouth pressed into a line. Sam assumed the answer would piss them all off.

  “I couldn’t. I mean, I could. I always wondered if I could get it from you, even though I couldn’t get it from anyone else, because I’d had it last. I could have taken it all. I just…knew that was a very bad idea.”

  “But instead of sending it back, you took off like a coward,” Sam accused.

  Anson nodded. “That’s about it, yeah.”

  Sam rocked on his heels, unable to think of anything else to say.

  Quinn set her hand in the center of Anson’s chest. Neither one moved. There was no surge like Sam felt in the Numina apartment, no crackle of electricity in the air. And no evidence, thank God, of pain or sickness. After a moment, Quinn rolled up to sit, then stand.

  “Where’s Tanda?” Her voice was strained, but her body straight, her manner calm and determined.

  “She should be here any minute,” said Riley. “She and Marley were already on their way back.” She’d barely finished speaking when they heard the front door locks snapping open. Those who weren’t cot-bound moved to the living room, and Tanda burst in, super-pale eyes bright and face flushed.

  “I’m ready,” she said breathlessly. She handed a paper bag to Marley, who’d come in quietly behind her. Marley took it and slipped into the kitchen while Tanda met the rest of them in the sitting area.

  “We don’t have time to set everything up right,” Nick said. “We’re doing this the down-and-dirty way.” He dragged the side chair closer to the sofa while Sam and Riley lifted the coffee table and moved it across the room. At Nick and Quinn’s direction, Tanda lay on the couch. After Quinn healed her damaged vessel, eliciting the same reaction Jennifer and Chloe had both had, Sam settled into the chair next to her, his stomach churning.

  Relax. You’ll fuck it all up if you’re not relaxed. This had to work. It was so close to being over. But what came after? He tipped his head back, and Riley, standing behind him, smiled encouragingly while she brushed his hair off his forehead.

  “We’ll talk,” she said. “After.”

  The tender promise in her eyes, deepened by conviction, gave him hope. He nodded at Quinn, who stood next to him and took his hand. She closed her eyes, and Sam tried not to tense.

  The surge came so fast and hard he didn’t have time to react. Pure, silvery energy gushed into him as if being chased. Quinn yanked her hand back with a gasp as Sam flinched away from the burning touch of the rest of the power. Marley’s power.

  “Now!” she yelled, and Sam grabbed onto Tanda. There was no ecstatic rush, no clawing pain, just a smooth glide of power into the other goddess.

  “Quinn!” Nick shouted.

  Sam turned back in time to see Nick catch his collapsing fiancée. She shuddered with suppressed convulsions.

  “What the hell?” Nick’s voice was high with panic. “What do I do?”

  Sam lurched out of the chair and crouched over Quinn. “Give it to me, Quinn.” He used the soothing, implacable voice of her old assistant, the voice he’d
used to get her to rest, to stall clients who’d take everything she could give and more. “I can handle it.”

  Liar.

  He ignored the voice in his head that was now strictly his own, and captured Quinn’s hand in both of his. He reached for the power but had no ability to take it. Quinn had to give it to him.

  “I won’t do that to you,” Quinn groaned, her jaw clenched so tight they could barely understand the words. She tried to pull her hand away, but Sam held on.

  “You have to. You’ll die.” His voice broke. An echo of the sound made him look up, and his gaze locked with Riley’s. The longing and despair there took his breath away, but he didn’t know how to fix it. “Riley,” he whispered.

  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 change
d 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.