Riley leaned against the wall, watching Quinn’s unmoving feet under the stall door. She shouldn’t have let Quinn heal her burns this morning, dammit. Quinn had assured her it was a simple action, not enough to even make her blink. That might have been true before, but now Riley was afraid it was making her worse.
Quinn coughed and drew in an audibly deep breath. The toilet flushed, and her feet turned to face the door. Riley moved closer, ready to help when the door latch rattled. The door opened, and Riley caught Quinn before she fell flat on her face.
“Crap,” Quinn said, using Riley to balance herself. “Thank you.”
“Let’s get you back outside,” Riley said. “It smells like hell in here.” She wrapped her arm around Quinn’s waist and propped her up while she washed her hands and splashed her face. Figuring Quinn could use a few minutes before she had to fake strength again, Riley steered her out to the picnic area in the rear of the building. The night air was cool and carried voices and engine rumblings from the parking lot out front. The only other person in the back was an older man, smoking while he walked a Yorkie in the pet area. Floodlights cast odd shadows around them.
“The guys will worry,” Quinn murmured. She leaned against a warped green picnic table, no longer bothering to hide her weakness.
“They’ll be fine. We’re supposed to take forever in the bathroom, right?” She helped Quinn sit. She needed food. “Be right back.” She hurried back to the vending alcove and bought a cola and bag of cookies.
They sat in silence for five minutes while Quinn ate. “Thank you,” she said to Riley when she’d emptied the cookie bag. “I didn’t even know I needed that. But now the shakes are gone, and my stomach is settled.”
Riley shrugged. “You looked like my hypoglycemic friend when her blood sugar tanked. Figured it couldn’t hurt.”
“You were right.” Quinn sighed. “We’d better get going before I crash again.”
“They’ll wait a few more minutes.” She didn’t know how much Quinn had told the guys, but the last few hours had made clear she was hiding how bad she continued to feel. Riley had a plan, but first she had to convince Quinn, then the guys. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Quinn sighed again and drank some of her soda. “I’m not sure I even know.” She picked at a section of peeling paint on the tabletop. “When I first pulled all this energy, all this power, from Anson, I could control it. But ever since we transferred Jennifer’s back to her, the rest has been…excited.” She waved her hand in circles up and down her body. “It never settles, just keeps whirling and churning. Sometimes it feels like it swarms out to my fingertips and toes, tugging. Trying to get home or something.”
“Whoa,” Riley breathed. “No wonder you look like—” She caught herself just in time, but Quinn laughed. Even in the odd lighting, Riley saw color returning to her face.
“Like shit? Yeah.”
Nothing Riley had felt in the last three years even came close to what Quinn was describing. But she could tell by the look on Quinn’s face that there was more. There was energy that couldn’t be returned. What would happen to Quinn when that was all that was left?
“What about the other energy? That doesn’t have a place to go?”
Quinn straightened her spine. “Beth’s power barely registers now. It’s not a problem.”
That brought it down to one that Riley knew of. “And Marley’s?”
Quinn gazed across the now-empty lawn. “I’d hoped I could return it to her, but the rift there is different from the others.” Her voice was low, regretful. “Not just a crack, but a hole. The part of Marley that made her a goddess is less dynamic every time I see her.” A tear tracked down her cheek. “If I hadn’t taken so long to find a solution, maybe things would be different.”
“Hey.” Riley laid a hand on Quinn’s arm. “It’s not your fault.”
Quinn sniffed and nodded. “I know. But I hate that I can’t help her. She’s my sister.”
There was a world of complication in the way she said that sentence. Riley closed her eyes against an answering swell of grief, of longing for her own sister. Of what could have been if she’d lived long enough to be a goddess, too.
But this wasn’t about her. She opened her eyes. “What’s wrong with Marley’s energy exactly?”
“It’s different from the others.” Quinn wiped her face with a napkin. “Beth’s energy is dissipating because its vessel is no longer alive. Marley’s energy has a vessel, but no way to connect to it because of the permanent damage. So it’s changed. It’s a dark, heavy mass. Almost…toxic.”
This was worse than Riley had thought. “Like poison?” she asked, aghast. “Is it poisoning you?” She didn’t need Quinn to answer verbally—it was clear in her eyes. Riley stood and clenched the trash in her fist. “This is stupid. You can’t handle another fourteen or more hours of driving.”
“I have no choice.”
“Yes, you do. You can fly.”
Quinn laughed. “Nick will never leave the Charger behind.”
Riley rolled her eyes. “You don’t think he cares about a car more than he cares about you, do you?” She threw the trash in a nearby garbage can and returned to the table to sell her plan to Quinn. “We’re near Knoxville. You can get a flight to Providence. That’s near Chloe’s, right? You can rest and then do the transfer.”
Quinn raised her eyebrows. “So you want all of us to fly?”
No. But it was the only option. “You need Sam. So, you three fly up. I’ll drive the car. I’ll probably get there right about the time you finish the transfer.”
“You think Nick will let you drive his car?” She smirked. “Or that Sam will leave you alone?”
Riley found herself fiddling with a long screw from her pocket. She’d been doing that all day, unconsciously reaching out to whatever metal was close at hand. But she never pulled any energy. The skin on her forearms stung whenever she even considered it.
“I think they’ll both do anything for you.” She glanced up to find Quinn staring at her with narrowed eyes.
“It’s not like that with Sam,” the older woman told Riley. “He’ll do just about anything for anyone in need.”
Ouch. Riley couldn’t stop herself from wincing at the implication that she wasn’t important.
Quinn rushed on, “No, I mean that his feelings for me are just friendship now. I promise you.”
The attempt to reassure her was backfiring. She hadn’t doubted that until Quinn found it necessary to say so. “That’s not the problem.”
Quinn took the bait. “I’d do anything for Sam, too. So if you think I’m blind to something he needs, you can tell me.”
Bingo. “Let’s just say Sam needs to speed this up as much as you do.”
Quinn looked stricken. “I didn’t realize it was affecting him that much…physically,” she admitted softly.
“So, you’re on board?” Riley asked.
“Yes. Let’s—”
Riley shot up off the bench. “Good. Stay here.” She ran back through the building to the parking lot. Nick and Sam were leaning against the hood and fender of the Charger.
Sam pushed away from the car, arms spread wide in obvious frustration. “What’s taking so long? I was about to come in there after you.”
Nick watched behind her. “Where’s Quinn?”
“She’s out back in the picnic area.”
“Alone?” Nick moved to walk by her, but Riley stopped him.
“She’s not doing well.”
Nick’s jaw clenched. “We don’t need you to tell us that.”
Riley folded her arms, ready to do battle. A few hours confined with people told you a lot about them. Not only was Nick very proprietary about his car—something that had to be as much a symbol as a possession—as a protector, he probably hated the confined space and nonexistent escape routes on an airplane. Quinn was trying hard not to ask anything of him, nor to worry him any more than she was. And Sam had already made it clear he wouldn’t leave Riley behind.