“Quinn.” Nick’s voice came from far away, but his urgency was obvious. “Quinn, stop.”
“I can’t,” she ground out, and Sam tried to open more. He wanted the slight bit of power he already had to reach out and draw in the new power, but it only churned restlessly. This was a far cry from the smooth flow of the other day.
Fear spiked. They’d screwed something up. They had to stop. He tried to pull his hand out of Quinn’s, but she clutched him tighter, her hand sliding up to his wrist and her other closing over his fingers. He lay helpless while she pushed, and the power slowly filled him like a big, icy blob. The pain increased steadily, raking along his insides and coalescing in his consciousness more than any physical spot. The pain seemed disconnected from his body while wholly contained within it.
Quinn gasped and broke the connection as the last trailing tendril slid into Sam. “Chloe, grab Sam’s hand,” she croaked.
“No,” Sam groaned. “Wrong.” He couldn’t communicate, couldn’t explain. He felt like someone had beaten him up.
“You have to, Sam. It’s okay. She’ll be okay.”
He closed his right hand into a fist and tried to pull it close to him. He couldn’t give this to Chloe. She’d go insane. But she reached and curled her fingers around his fist, her nails scratching his palm as they pried up his fingertips.
The power went wild. In seconds the ice seemed to melt, and it whirled and spun like an excited puppy. Sam recognized Chloe’s capacity, felt the affinity. He relaxed and let go, and the energy flowed out of him into her. It sliced as much going out as it had coming in, but the pain stayed behind. Chloe inhaled deep, the sound welcoming, pleased. Slowly, as the energy left Sam, the pain faded, leaving only a raw fatigue.
Chloe let go of him, but he couldn’t move. He heard the rhythm of the ocean across the beach, and his blood seemed to surge and ebb along with the waves. But he felt none of the euphoria he’d felt after Jennifer’s transfer. Only nausea and a pounding headache that also, unfortunately, emulated the crashing of the waves.
“Sam.” A voice penetrated the pounding and surging. Not Quinn’s. Another woman. His heart rate picked up, as did the nausea. “Sam, honey.” The woman speaking was older than Quinn, and her voice was accompanied by a soft hand on his forehead. Chloe. He grew slowly more aware, but as the world around him solidified, his insides churned even more.
“Oh, shit.” He shoved Chloe aside and scrambled to the steps off her deck, stumbling, falling down the last few and landing on his knees in time to retch in the sand. He heaved until his stomach was empty, then heaved a few more times for good measure.
“Come on, buddy. You done?” Nick half helped, half hauled Sam to his feet. “You all right?”
“Quinn,” he managed, collapsing onto the steps and watching Nick kick sand over his mess.
“She’s okay. Chloe’s helping her.”
He couldn’t raise his head to see Nick’s face. “Did it work?”
“Yeah. Chloe seems okay. She’s not like you two, anyway. How are you feeling?”
“Like crap.”
“Yeah, you look it.”
Sam reached for the banister and dragged himself back up the steps to the deck. He leaned on the rail and stared at the ocean. His blood still followed the rhythm of the waves, but the sluggishness remained. He had no compulsion to test his abilities this time. Hell, he was barely compelled to keep from collapsing into a heap again.
“That didn’t go so well,” he told Nick.
“I noticed.” He climbed the steps and settled his hand on Sam’s shoulder, and for some reason, it steadied him.
“Are you sure they’re okay?” He wasn’t convinced Chloe hadn’t been damaged the way he had.
“Yeah, you seem to have gotten the worst of it. Quinn’s tired but actually better than she was before. And Chloe said it felt like she was normalizing, like she’d been sick for a long time and now she’s suddenly healthy again.”
“She didn’t have any pain?”
“No.” Nick dropped his hand and shoved them into his pockets, leaning with his back to the water so he could see Sam’s face. Sam looked down at his hands braced on the rail.
“How bad was it?” Nick asked.
Sam shrugged.
“Come on, I could see it. You looked like something was slicing you up inside.”
“That’s how it felt. Like the power was full of needles or barbs. It resisted until I connected with Chloe. Then it flowed into her.”
“Did it—was it—dammit.” Nick hunched his shoulders. “Did it feel malevolent?”
Sam shook his head. “It’s hard not to put human terms on it, like firefighters do with fire, but no. It’s just energy. There’s no intent or emotion to it. It’s what we’ve made it.” He drew a deep breath, the salt and sand scents easing into him and relaxing some of his muscles. The stomach cramping had passed, and his headache eased a little.
He heard Quinn’s footsteps crossing the deck, and she came to stand between them. “How are you?” she asked Sam.
“I’m fine.”
Her eyebrows lowered. “Tell the truth.”
“I’m getting to fine.”
“That’s better.” The frown eased, though she still looked concerned. “I heard what you were saying. It was Marley’s power.”
“What? You put the wrong power in—”
“No, no. I mean the problem was Marley’s power. I had trouble separating them, and it wouldn’t let go. The resistance you said you felt—I think that was it.”
“Great,” Nick said. “What’s it going to do when you try to take Tanda’s out?”
Quinn didn’t answer.
“How about you?” Sam asked. “Did it hurt you?”
“No. I’m feeling much better. Honestly,” she said. “Like when you throw up, everything feels better for a little while.”
“Thanks, I just lived that metaphor.”
She grimaced. “Sorry.”
“What was it like from your end?”
She sighed. “Like a too-tight bolt on an engine block.”
“Hey, I get that one!” Nick joked, making them all laugh.
“Why do you think it was so different?” Sam asked Quinn. “Jennifer’s went so easily.”
Quinn glanced back to the house, probably making sure Chloe wasn’t in earshot. “Jennifer didn’t have as much capacity as Chloe did, for one thing. She’s younger, too, so she hadn’t developed the same ability to draw power.” She shifted toward Sam but reached back to take Nick’s hand and hold it tight against her thigh.
“When Marley gave Anson some of her power, and then he leeched power from the rest of the goddesses, he created something new. Like putting milk and sugar into tea. There are methods for separating those items from each other again, but they won’t separate cleanly. That’s why you’re so important for this.”
Sam gripped the smooth, weathered wood of the rail and held in the rest of his questions. He wanted to know how much the filter was catching and holding. How much of what wound up in him was damaged and what that would mean for the next transfer. And after. But he didn’t want to reveal his fears or make Quinn think she had to stop now—it was more crucial than ever that they keep going.
He focused on her. “You’re suffering from the effort of separating the energy, aren’t you?”
She smiled ruefully. “I think you’re suffering more this time.”
“Nah.” He released the rail and flexed his hands to ease the cramps in his fingers. “I just lie there. Easy as pie.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “Anyway, we need to get to Tanda faster than we got to Chloe. I’m losing the moon.”
Sam didn’t like the sound of that. “You didn’t say this was contingent on the moon.”
“It’s not, but I don’t want to head into my weakest point at the end of this. I mean, I will anyway, but having the last quarter will help my equilibrium. I should have planned this better,” she said with sudden anger. “I should have known time would be a factor and had everyone together.”