Natalie Damschroder - Heavy Metal

“How is he?” Quinn asked.

“Same,” Riley managed.

“He’ll be okay,” Tanda tried to assure her, but the words were hollow. Riley nodded anyway. Marley passed a basket of garlic bread to Riley, her eyes lowered. She took it hesitantly, wondering what was wrong but not wanting to ask in front of everyone. Not that it was her place, anyway. Marley had been with Quinn all afternoon, and if she had any problems, she’d tell her sister, not Riley.

“We need to talk about Numina,” John said once all the food had been passed. “I had a pow-wow with Jeannine.” He ignored Nick’s snort of derision. “Her term is almost up, which has made her…reluctant to initiate any real action, even with the possibility that Numina, or Tournado’s snot-nosed group of them, anyway, might have infiltrated us.”

Riley watched Tanda’s hand tighten on her fork, her knuckles going white. Marley kept her head down while she toyed with her pasta, and Riley wasn’t sure she was even listening. Quinn carefully didn’t look at anyone, but Nick had stopped eating and stared at her.

“Um, what about the president elect?” Riley asked. “What’s her take?”

“We kind of don’t have one,” Tanda said. “But it’ll be Quinn.”

Quinn dropped her fork. Riley jumped, alarmed, but understood immediately that Quinn had done it on purpose. She stared back at Nick. Riley could almost see the words zipping back and forth between them.

“Aren’t you going to tell me I’m too weak?” Quinn asked him.

“Are you?” Nick smirked and glanced at Riley. “She’s stuck. She can’t use the excuse of being too sick, and then tell me to back off because she’s fine.”

“I wouldn’t tell you to back off. I’d tell you to take his job.” Quinn jerked her head at John, who grinned.

“Dinner and a show. How lucky are we?” He nudged Tanda, who laughed.

Marley stood and walked out of the room, a swirl of blackness following her that confused Riley. She automatically checked her as she had everyone else over the past several days. There was only Marley’s signature emptiness.

The bathroom door closed, and everyone sat awkwardly for a moment before continuing without comment.

“I’ll take his job if you take the one you were elected to,” Nick shot at Quinn.

“Wait, what?” Riley looked around the table. “You said there was no president elect.”

“Quinn refused to run,” Tanda told her. “We elected her anyway. Jeannine wouldn’t hold a special election or appoint anyone because we were all hoping she’d give in.”

“I was off politics,” Quinn said.

“Was?” Nick asked, his voice low, his gaze steady.

Quinn sighed. “I guess. It’s better timing now. Maybe.” She raised an eyebrow at Tanda. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Normal. The real normal.”

“I called Jennifer an hour ago,” Nick said. “Still fine.”

“And Chloe sent me an e-mail that she’s got another date with the new guy.” Tanda smiled. “Looks like everything’s fine there too. Like we keep telling you.”

“Yeah, well,” Quinn said wryly, “people—including me—have been saying that for three years without it being true. You can understand my skepticism.”

“So there you go,” Nick told John. “So what’s the plan?”

“We’ve met with a few of Numina’s legitimate leadership. We’ve proceeded cautiously, not knowing what they were up to, but after all this we need to formalize and expand.”

“We need to do research first,” Quinn cut in. “I want to know more before we launch a task force.” She went quiet suddenly and picked up her fork again. Nick’s eyes flicked to the hall, and Riley realized they were thinking about Sam. Their resident research geek.

The distraction the conversation had provided disappeared, and Riley tried to wash down the dry bread lodged in her throat.

John cleared his. “We know the faction going after goddesses has had another setback, with Anson disappearing.”

“Do we really know that though?” Riley asked. She wasn’t afraid of Anson anymore, not after seeing what he’d become. What the poison had done to him. What it was doing to Sam. She couldn’t sit here anymore. As important as all this stuff was, she wasn’t. They didn’t need her for planning.

“Where are you going?” John asked when she stood without paying attention. She’d probably interrupted someone mid-sentence.

“Sorry. I was going to check on Sam.”

“So does that mean you don’t want to be part of the task force?” Quinn asked.

Riley flushed. “No. I mean, well, sure. But why would you want me?”

“Well, let’s see,” Nick said sarcastically. “Why would we want a brave, smart, independent goddess who already knows more about Numina than anyone else in the goddess world, and oh, yeah, can physically detect them ?”

She felt herself go a deeper red. “None of that really means anything. I have no idea what a task force does.”

“We’re not asking you to lead it,” Quinn said, not unkindly. “Just work with us.”

“Of course.” Riley shoved aside her insecurities and saw the value in what she could bring. “Thank you.”

“Planning without me, huh?”

Riley spun at the raspy, tired, but gorgeously deep voice behind her. Sam stood in the kitchen doorway, one hand on his stomach, a sheepish look on his face, and his hair a tousled mess.

“Sam!” Sweet, cathartic relief took Riley’s tension and despair so completely she could barely hold herself upright. Her heart thudded with joy.

“You okay, buddy?” Nick rose and took a few steps to stand, feet wide, close enough to Sam to help him if he needed it, but far enough away not to insult him.

“Yeah, actually, I feel surprisingly good.” His brows came together, a perplexed expression. “I don’t know why. But…it’s gone.”

“What is?” Quinn turned in her chair but didn’t get up. Riley had heard a soft hiss when she moved and knew her recovery was going to be much slower than Sam’s had apparently been.

“Everything.” Sam waved his hand out and slapped it back to his abdomen. “There’s no power left. No residue, no abilities. I’m back the way I was.”

Quinn and Nick looked to Riley, and she did a quick check. He was the same awake as he’d been unconscious. “Still no trace,” she confirmed. Tanda murmured her agreement.

“H-how?” Quinn reached out a hand, as if having to touch Sam to make sure he was as okay as he claimed.

“I don’t know.”

“What happened?” Nick ushered Sam over to his chair and made him sit, then gathered the food toward his end of the table. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, starved, actually.”

“I’ll get you a plate.”

Sam watched Nick quizzically as he collected a plate, glass, and flatware, and raised one eyebrow at Quinn, who shrugged. But Riley could have told him why Nick was being so solicitous. He might hold a lot inside, but Nick cared deeply for his friends. He’d been as afraid for Sam as he’d been for Quinn, though he’d probably threaten to shoot Riley to keep her from telling Sam.

She returned to her seat, letting her knee press against Sam’s under the table. He squeezed her leg for a second. His hand was warm and possessive, and the impression of it lingered even after he removed it.

“So?” she asked him. “What happened when Quinn sent you Marley’s power?”

Sam looked up. “Where is Marley?”

“Down the hall.” Quinn frowned, then smoothed her expression. “You were screaming so horribly, when you stopped, I thought it had killed you.”

He shook his head. “I have no idea. One minute it was invading me, taking over, and the next it was gone.”