by C. C. Ekeke
Thanks to Devon Strauss, Quinn seethed to herself. But for everyone else’s sake, she would do her best to play nice.
“Speaking of reunions,” Annie broached, as if reading her mind, “did you and Devon talk before we arrived?” She stole a look at Quinn, her features tight.
“Nope.”
Annie flinched away from whatever annoyance she saw on Quinn’s face. “Shit.” She kept her eyes on the road, which wasn’t too congested. “This won’t be awkward, then.”
Quinn knew that would be the case. She and Devon had become instant friends the first day of freshman year. It had been through Devon that Quinn had befriended their then-Floor TA, Annie.
Now, two years had passed since Brown University’s homecoming, where she and her once-close friend had last seen each other. Quinn remembered their ugly blowout like it had happened yesterday. Every insult, every screamed accusation rang as clear as day through her mind. Quinn squeezed her eyes shut from the dull ache in her chest. That fight with Devon had been budding for a long time. Right after their falling out, Devon had finished up basic training and joined the Army for over two years. Annie, who still talked to Devon, provided updates without asking. All Quinn wanted was a fun and fabulous weekend without drama. If Devon wasn’t on board, then there would be problems.
“I’ll be nice,” Quinn warned and settled into her seat, jaw clenched.
Annie let out a sad sigh, her shoulders slumping a little. Quinn hated disappointing her person, but these terms were ironclad.
“Devon got recruited by some high-end investment firm,” Annie added, “after getting discharged. Not sure which. Probably a firm with lots of money.”
Quinn snorted. “Which could be any investment firm, babe,” she teased.
Annie jabbed her in the ribs and scowled as they reached the highway offramp noted on their GPS. Once they crossed over the Mississippi River into the Algiers district, Quinn could’ve sworn they’d driven backward in time. Residential streets were lined with colorful, majestic Victorian-style cottages. Locals lounged on some of the porches, hanging out or playing musical instruments. The visuals were magnetic to Quinn, keeping her eyes glued to the car window. The history behind each house and each landmark in the Algiers neighborhood filled her with childlike curiosity. That was a welcome distraction from the looming reunion with Devon.
Yet Annie wasn’t done being nosy. “You never told me why you guys stopped talking,” she wondered out loud, staring ahead. “And I didn’t mean that screaming match.”
“Hmmm,” was all Quinn added. Nor would she elaborate. Devon’s actions after their screaming match had blindsided Quinn so utterly that she’d ghosted Devon for her own sanity.
“Quinn.” The plea in Annie’s expression matched her tone. “Dev really wants to make amends.”
So did Quinn, secretly. But her pride wouldn’t bend…or was it the shame in the part she’d played? Quinn pushed the glut of noxious thoughts away and met Annie’s gaze. “I’ll be cordial,” she repeated with an edge of finality to end this discussion. “Can’t promise any more.”
Annie looked ready to press further but wisely curbed herself. “Fine,” she grumbled, slowing the car.
Quinn couldn’t let the Devon dilemma sour the once jovial mood. “I am excited to see the rest of the girls,” she gushed, putting on a big smile.
Annie brightened. “Sooo true! Group video calls aren’t enough.”
Within minutes, they reached their destination. The bright-red, white-and-grey Victorian Airbnb was so regal yet adorable, with obvious renovations. By the other cars already in the driveway, most if not all the others had arrived.
Quinn’s heart was racing. She sucked in a few deep breaths to center herself.
Annie killed the engine as soon as she parked in the cottage’s driveway. She fanned her blushing face with both hands. “Okay, enough drama-rama.” Annie was watching Quinn. “You ready, Quinnie?”
Quinn gripped her hand and squeezed. “Born ready, Guac,” she assured, using her pet name for Annie. Excitement coursed through her again. Time to make some memories. “This weekend is about food, fun, and getting into trouble.”
“While drinking until we see double,” Annie threw back happily. The pair exited the car and unloaded their luggage.
When they reached the front door, Quinn heard muted voices chatting from within. The impulse to turn and run back to the car seized her. Somehow, Quinn swallowed that panic and braced herself while Annie fished through the mailbox for the spare keys. “We’re here!” Annie singsonged, wheeling her luggage and herself inside.
Inside, the house held some of the exterior’s Victorian sensibilities. But by the furniture that Quinn glimpsed, this rental thankfully wasn’t a complete 1800s throwback.
When Quinn rolled her luggage in and kicked the door closed, Annie was bearhugging a slim and fair-skinned girl with thick, dark brown hair.
“The life of the party has arrived!” Katy Horn belted. She was the smartest of their crew and would be starting med school this fall.
A plump and perky Chinese girl along with another dark-skinned lady scurried forward to lavish Quinn with hugs.
“Moni!” Quinn cried. “Krista. Hello!”
Moni, aka Monica Chu, pulled back first and marveled at her. “Quinn! You look so cute and fit!”
Krista Smalls nodded in agreement.
Quinn shrugged, her heart lighter. “It’s the yoga,” she quipped. “And the beach air.”
Monica and Krista both laughed. “Maybe I should move to San Miguel,” the latter girl suggested. Annie then pulled Krista into a hearty embrace. “We’d love having you both there.”
But everyone knew Krista wasn’t leaving Michigan anytime soon. She was getting married in like six months while finishing up law school. And Moni had her cushy real estate job in Chicago.
As the five girls chatted and laughed and caught up, Devon’s absence grew more palpable. When Quinn angled a questioning look at Katy, her friend nodded toward the kitchen.
“Hey, y’all.”
Quinn froze. After two years, that soft Texas drawl hadn’t changed.
All heads turned.
Quinn stared and kept staring.
Saying Devon Strauss stood out in a crowd was an understatement. The girl was five-foot-ten inches of athletic, debutante-worthy Americana—six feet of her devoted to those long legs. Devon stepped out of the kitchen hesitantly, wearing the shit out of a white tank top and tight jeans. Flowing layers of blonde cascaded past her shoulders. Whatever she’d been doing to stay fit was working. Usually, Devon’s buoyant personality filled whatever room she entered. Yet now she had shrunk herself, exuding uncharacteristic timidness.
Because of what happened, Quinn realized. A wave of emotions washed over her skin when she saw Devon. Joy, resentment, shame. Bitterness and mortification.
Everyone got quiet. Now Quinn warmed from the burning spotlight on both her and Devon.
Annie broke the tension and marched toward the blonde girl. “Hi, Dev.” Her arms spread as wide as her smile. “C’mere.”
Devon sank into Annie’s arms with eyes closed.
“You okay?” Krista whispered in Quinn’s ear, startling her.
“Not when you ask me that,” she hissed.
Devon untangled from Annie, watching Quinn intently. Her big blue eyes brimmed with stories, most prominently fear and obvious remorse.
In that moment, all eyes on her and Devon, she could let a fraction of her animus go. A tightness in her chest that she’d never noticed relaxed. “Hi, Devon,” Quinn greeted, forcing a smile.
The words sent a visible shock through Devon. She quickly recovered to offer a wave but turned quite pale. “Hi, Quinn,” she replied in an unusually small voice.
They stood there staring at each other awkwardly a few more seconds. Quinn was drawing a blank on what to say next. There was so much to discuss and not in front of their friends. Annie made a head gesture for Quinn to approach.
Katy, on Quinn’s left, snort-laughed.
Quinn ignored Annie’s muted theatrics, knowing a grander gesture was needed to break the ice. “Are you gonna give me a hug or what?”
Devon brightened like a sunrise, making her even prettier. “Sure.”
Quinn approached at the same time as Devon. At first, the hug was stiff. But in the warmth of each other’s arms, Quinn wilted a little. Devon gave a low, contented noise and held Quinn tight. No awkwardness or dramas. Devon’s hugs were as amazing as she remembered.
“You two are ridiculous!” Annie finally exclaimed.
“Facts on facts,” Katy agreed, hands on her hips like some angry mom. “Took you two long enough to stop being stupid.”
As the girls burbled their approval, Quinn quickly drew back. Devon was more hesitant to let go. She wrinkled her nose and gazed down at the much shorter Quinn.
“I’m glad you came.” Devon’s drawl grew thicker from the emotion filling her words.
Warmth crept up Quinn’s neck under that intense stare. She looked away. “Good to see you too, Dev.”
Thankfully, Monica barged in and slung her arms over Quinn’s and Devon’s shoulders “Now that the awkwardness is out of the way,” she announced.
Quinn remembered to breathe while Annie and Krista guffawed amongst themselves.
Devon shot daggers at Monica. “Way to make it more awkward, Moni.” She sounded like her old spitfire self again.
“Just saying…” Monica objected.
After that, the mood lightened considerably. Everyone was talking at once, conversations overlapping, the friends catching up with each other’s recent life changes. Every so often, Quinn and Devon locked eyes. Smiles would be shared before one of them looked away blushingly. Quinn knew the hug and public greeting was not enough to mend the rift between them, but it was a start.
“Okay!” Annie announced later. She was swiping through her phone, meaning that she had a plan to share. The publicist in her loved planning out itineraries. “I’ve got a list of lunch spots. All non-touristy.”
Quinn rubbed her hands eagerly, always loving off-the-beaten-track trips. “You had me at non-touristy.”
Annie grinned at her captive audience. “Donatello’s for some Créole food,” she said. “Federal Station for po boy sandwiches. Remy’s for traditional NOLA cuisine.” Her toothy smile ate half of her face. “Each one has lunchtime happy hour drinks.”
Devon scoffed and folded her bare, toned arms. “No wonder ya can’t choose.”
Annie whirled on her. “¡Cállate!” she snapped.
“Oooh!” Krista was bouncing on her heels, her braids jostling. “What about Kensies? I hear the food is amazing!”
Quinn, Devon, and the others were equally intrigued.
Only Annie looked disgusted. “Most of their dishes involve alligator meat.” She curled her lip. “Gross.”
“Alligator is part of the NOLA cuisine, dear,” Quinn reminded.
“Are you scared of a little gator meat, Annie?” Devon teased.
Annie recoiled from the accusation. “I just like my meat…” Her brow furrowed as she searched for an apt word. “Non-alligator.”
Quinn and her other friends exchanged fiendish grins.
Katy joined in on dogpiling. “Let’s do that one.”
“I’m in,” Krista said immediately.
“Me too,” Monica chimed in.
Annie looked around in overdramatic outrage.
The mischief on Devon’s face held nothing but trouble. “You game, Mass-hole?” she teased Quinn.
“Only if you are, Debutante,” Quinn threw back Devon’s nickname, her smile unbidden. She never backed down from Devon’s challenges. Not in college and certainly not now. Just like old times.
Annie folded her arms and pouted. “I hate all of you!”
Chapter 2
Quinn heard her name from far away. But the constant shaking of her shoulders was what jarred her out of the darkness.
She woke up to a world of exhaustion. Annie’s blurry outline loomed overhead. As her BFF came into focus, Quinn caught the concern dominating Annie’s pretty yet unusually worn features.
“Wake up, Quinnie,” Annie urged under her breath, shaking her again. “Please wake up.”
“Hmmm.” Quinn lay on cold metal again, every muscle painfully stiff. Sweat plastered her top to her skin. “Hey…” She looked Annie over, noticing the tears on her face. In seconds, this horrible night replayed through Quinn’s sluggish brain. She jolted up into a seated position, almost falling over again. She felt so weak. “You okay?” Her voice sounded like a dying frog. Annie shook her head, struggling not to cry. “I'm so…exhausted,” she groaned and rubbed her forehead. “What the hell did that guy do to us? It was like at their house.” She opened her eyes, which were glassy and unfocused. “Felt like the life was getting sucked outta me.”
Quinn nodded, having experienced the exact same sensation. She’d heard about this particular breed of super. Never in her wildest nightmares had she expected to encounter one firsthand. “Dan and those other guys are siphoners.” A shudder ran through Quinn after saying that.
Annie stared at her. “A what now?”
Quinn massaged both temples to clear her jumbled thoughts. “It’s a rare kind of super that feeds off other supers and their powers,” she began. “I read about them like two years ago after Titan faced off against one.” She shook her head and let both hands drop. The bafflement was settling in deep. “Never knew they could feed on regular people too.” That scared Quinn more.
Annie’s eyes bulged. “Wasn’t just that,” she replied timidly. “I…I wasn’t even that drunk tonight, and I couldn’t resist that Vishal guy.” Her olive skin turned the color of bad milk. “I was all over him like some cheap puta.” She covered her face in shame. “I don’t think Johnny will buy getting mind-controlled as an excuse.” A sob shook through Annie, then she began crying.
Quinn’s heart ached. As worried as she was about the rest of their missing friends, Annie needed her. “Same thing happened to me,” Quinn said, scooting over on her bottom. More memories from tonight filled her brain. “These siphoners did a mind whammy to Devon and the others…” That realization gave her pause. “They might be low-level telepaths or have pheromone powers.” The world swam in jagged circles, Quinn swaying like a leaf in the wind. “Jeez…” She slumped back onto her elbows. “I’m exhausted.”
Annie dragged Quinn into a desperate hug, fat tears forming in her eyes. “What are we gonna do, Quinn? What are we going to do?”
Internally, Quinn was freaking out. But revealing that terror would only make Annie freak out more. “I don’t know,” she murmured, returning her BFF’s hug as firmly as she could manage. The contact felt good. “Let’s get some rest and regain our strength.”
Jangling metal outside the crate grabbed their attention.
“Someone’s coming,” Annie hissed.
Quinn pulled Annie to her feet along with herself, fear burning away her fatigue.
The shipping container door opened, and in slid the Indian guy that Annie had fooled around with earlier. Before now, Quinn had found him somewhat attractive. Now, knowing what he was capable of turned her stomach. Vishal was his name, swarthy-skinned and lanky in build, his longish back hair slicked back. He was carrying a tray of eggs and sausage with two apples.
Quinn couldn’t miss the gun holstered to his belt, or the bolted door outside and across from this container—until Vishal closed the door with his foot.
Quinn flattened herself against a wall, Annie clinging to her for dear life.
“Hello again, ladies.” Vishal greeted them like old friends. But that smile appeared more sinister under the overhead lights. He placed the tray down in the middle of the room and stepped back.
“Here’s breakfast…” Vishal frowned as if trying to decipher a puzzle. “Quinn and…Giaconda, right?”
“Fuck you,” Annie snarled.
Quinn wou
ld’ve laughed under less dire circumstances.
Vishal snickered. “Giaconda then,” he decided.
His glibness enraged Quinn to where she was marching forward without thinking to punch his face in. Fortunately, Annie dragged her backward by the waist.
The way Vishal cocked his head sideways conveyed a warning. “Careful. Your blonde friend needed a painful lesson for getting handsy.”
Devon. Quinn’s rage drained away, leaving her paralyzed. Annie clapped a hand over her horrified mouth.
Vishal relaxed his shoulders. “Your friends are alive. And will stay that way if you all behave.” Him holding up both hands to convey peace meant little and less. “I’m sorry how this all went down,” he said. His contrition sounded genuine. “We usually just drink some of what we need and go on our way.”
Quinn flinched from the casual awfulness of this man who took what he wanted from unsuspecting victims. “Like vampires,” she growled.
Vishal bristled. “We are not vampires. You have no idea what it’s like, getting othered for being born different.”
The gall of this man left Quinn briefly speechless. “Hello?” She pointed at herself and Annie heatedly. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
Vishal shook his head as if speaking to a nimrod. “I mean my abilities,” he explained through clenched teeth. “Taking a little and moving on is how people like me have survived. But we thought there were two of you…not six.”
Quinn wanted to claw his eyes out after beating his face in. But Annie still had a death grip on her waist. “Sorry to ruin your fun, you freak,” she fumed.
Vishal jerked back like she'd struck him. The man then seethed at them in cold contempt.
Just like that, Quinn was afraid again. She sucked in a deep breath to calm her nerves and think rationally. Answers were needed, like what Vishal and his siphoners had planned for them. “What are you going to do after you’ve fed?” Vishal watched them with greedy eyes, making Quinn’s flesh crawl. Annie recoiled.