Summary: Quinn and Mercedes have a battle of wills about the use of their power when they help a stranger. Sam tries to cure his loneliness with a one-night stand.

Warning: Sexual situations. Cursing. Mentions of religion. Mild drug use.

Rating: Mature (for this chapter)

Author's Note: This chapter is very Quinn centric. Happy New Year!

Chapter 4

"Love may be able to force you into precarious situations, it may lead you into double-edged bonfires and you don't smell the smoke, you only see the temptation of a perfume."
― Laura Gentile, Seraphic Addiction

Quinn

For most people touch was simple. A handshake, a hug, a quick brush of the shoulders as you passed someone on the sidewalk was inconsequential for everyone else. But for me, touch was like feeling a thousand emotions. Once when I was in line at the supermarket and I bumped into the woman beside me, and I knew she missed her child because of the maternal yearning that seeped through her skin and entered my body and for a moment, I was a mother missing her child. I had to leave the store. That's just how it was. I felt everyone's stories in my veins. Too many senses knocked together from brief contact, a tsumani of emotions swallowed me whole.

Cedes thought her gift would make people like her. I didn't care if people liked me or not. I only needed Mama, Papa, my sister and Grandma Sadie. Nobody else mattered.

I didn't mind touching animals. Their emotions were less intense. They just wanted to be fed and loved. Spiders were always sad which makes sense because how happy could you be, living in a dusty corner of an attic? I liked to make them feel better. Snakes were lonely. When I was a little girl, I would pet the snakes in our garden; and they never hurt me.

"Quinn Latoya, put that nasty snake down and get in this house! Grandma Sadie said, as she stood on the porch with her hands on her hips, "Little girls ain't supposed to be digging around in the dirt, picking up snakes."

"She's sad," I said. "I make her happy,"

Grandma Sadie rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"Sweet, Lordy Jesus, I don't know what we're going to do with you."

People forgot that all living things had feelings. Even plants and trees had emotions. I sometimes talked to trees. Mercedes said I needed to quit doing that because people thought I was crazy already and this only confirmed it, but I never lived for anyone's approval, so it didn't matter to me one way or the other. People were like noise in the background, interfering with nature's song. I had little use for them.

When we lived in Kansas City, I worked for a vet, but I had to quit because his lust and adoration for me made me ill. He left love notes on my desk and serenaded me on Valentines Day on the front lawn of our rented cottage. Mercedes called the cops and I quit the next day. He said I was beautiful. I never saw myself that way. Mercedes was more beautiful than I was. She looked like our gorgeous Mama. She had Mama's curves and sweet smile. I often stared in the mirror and tried to see the beauty that everyone else saw. I never found it. I was bland like vanilla ice cream; blonde and blue was as exciting as dishwater. I wanted warm brown skin and kinky hair. I used to tell Mama this and she would laugh and say: "Quinnie, you're beautiful just as you are. Now stop trying to twist your hair." I stopped twisting my hair, but I still secretly wished that I had her beauty.

Then there was energy. It was everywhere, buzzing about in the atmosphere like an electrical current. People don't know that their emotions go out into the universe, causing a shift in the balance of things. When I felt people's energy, and picked up on their emotional waves floating in the air, it wasn't as intense as when they touched me, unless their power was strong. Sam burst in like a hurricane. He could do damage. That scared me more than anything. Sam with his glass wall metaphors and writer's mind: I've seen the type, all artsy and curious, thinking they're above everyone because they spin tales for a living. I felt his energy – a pull that was stronger than most, a strength like that could make Goliath weak, I knew his sadness, it dripped from him like those tears he tried to hide. I wasn't heartless. I was sorry that he lost his little girl. But I couldn't let him in, at least not the way Mercedes wanted to. Sam said I was trapped behind a glass wall. He didn't understand that glass was the safest way for me to see the world.

Bad energy was in the oddest places. Sometimes I felt it in churches. People tried to hide their shame and truth too much; they didn't have enough love from within, only judgment. Papa wasn't surprised that bad energy was in churches because his family's church refused to let him and Mama get married there, so they had the wedding in the rose garden on the Fabray estate. It was 1979 and things were different then.

I loved looking at their wedding pictures; the adoring expression on Papa's face as he gazed down at Mama, warmed my heart. It hurt when people questioned that we were a family, if they could feel the love between all of us they would know.

ooo

At midnight, Mercedes knocked on my bedroom door.

"Quinn, you awake?"

I sat up in bed.

"Yes."

She opened the door and walked in, sitting on the foot of the bed. I turned on my lamp. The soft yellow light filled the room.

"Nightmare?" I asked her.

She nodded as the tears trickled down her cheeks.

"It was about Anthony."

I got up and sat next to her, holding her hand. Neither one of us spoke. We didn't need to, not really. Our bond was so strong that it transcended words, her head rested on my shoulder, and I let her emotions seep into my skin, the coldness of fear, and the lukewarm wave of regret settled into me, and the lasting note of gratitude lingered longer; she was glad I was there to hold her hand.

"He said he never loved me."

Her broken heart felt like bits of glass twisting into my flesh, her pain traveled through me, I put my arm around her.

"He loved you."

"You touched him?"

I raised my eyebrow at her and she smiled.

"Only once," I said, "He stopped from tripping over an extension cord."

"You never told me that."

"I promised you I wouldn't touch him."

She didn't say anything for a while, and only held me and hummed the River song Mama taught us. Then she said:

"I knew he was lying."

"What did his love smell like?" I asked.

Mercedes closed her eyes, drifting into her memories.

"Like roses and ocean water."

She yawned.

"I guess I better get back to bed."

"He never deserved you." I said.

"What about Sam?"

Damn. Why did she have to ask about him?

"What about him?"

Mercedes sighed and leaned against me, squeezing my hand.

"You're afraid of him."

"Because he needs too much."

She stared at me, the lamplight shining in her brown eyes.

"Quinn, he's grieving."

"It's not that. The way he holds onto your words… and that desperation on his face. You can't feel his energy like me. I don't want to find you on the floor again and –"

"That was a mistake. I was lost. I promised it would never happen again."

"You said it was easier."

"I know what I said."

"You give too much of yourself, always giving, always letting people inside and they take it all and leave you with nothing. It's not fair."

"At least I try to connect," she said, "I can't hide like you."

Her words hurt. I wanted no part of the world and she wanted everything in it. That always divided us.

"We should get some sleep," I said, pulling away from her.

For once, she didn't argue. But instead of going back to her room, she got under the covers and I turned off the light. She hated to be alone after a nightmare.

"Quinn?"

"Yes?"

She didn't say anything. Even in the dark, I knew she was crying.

ooo

We had a lot of customers the next day. I smiled and did the socially acceptable thing called small talk or tried to anyway. I could only take so much of people and Mercedes understood when I had to slip away for a while to shake off everyone's emotions. People loved my sister; really loved her, like she was their best friend. It wasn't always like that when we were kids things were much different.

"Do you have dried blackberry leaves?" A young girl asked me. She leaned on the counter, tapping her fingers against the glass; she had blue spiked hair and her eyes were pale gray. I felt a lonely, listless energy coming from her, a faint murmur of loss.

"It won't work," I said.

She frowned.

"What won't work?"

"The revenge spell."

"How did you know?"

"You're not the first heartbroken girl to come in here asking for blackberry leaves because of that stupid spell book on Amazon," I said.

"You don't know the whole story."

"I know enough of the story."

"She stole him."

"Nobody can steal another human being," I said, looking into her eyes, "the energy was bad anyway."

"You don't understand."

"I understand that you're wasting my time. Everything else is irrelevant."

I wanted her to go away; she was so pathetic, so needy. I had no patience for her lack of emotional intelligence. I imagined that she dreamed of fairy tales and white horses. Her energy grew stronger. It was desperate like someone clinging to life just before they die. I stepped back from the cash register.

"Please leave."

"Where's the manager?"

"I am the manager."

Just then Mercedes emerged from the storage room, carrying a stack of boxes. She smiled at the girl.

"Hello."

"She won't sell me what I asked for," the girl said, "Isn't that like, against the law or something?"

I knew from Mercedes' expression that she picked up on her scent; she glanced at me then focused on the girl.

"What do you need?"

The girl folded her arms and sighed.

"Dried blackberry leaves."

I saw a glimmer in Mercedes' eyes as she observed her, and I knew her story unfolded in my sister's mind.

The girl's heartbreak felt like slipping hands, a beating heart, and soft breath at my ear… and then I felt a burst like a thunderstorm in my chest, raining down, drowning the world, it wasn't a simple love affair. I leaned against the counter for support, taking a breath as her energy drained me. What did that guy do? I closed my eyes and created the pictures. Something primal, animalistic, shot through me, a warmth of bodies joining in a dark room, cool sheets wrapped around bare skin, heat so unbearable, lips, soft and dry, touching each other, then cut glass digging into a vein, hot tears falling on her cheeks. I understood. I opened eyes.

Mercedes dropped the boxes, and stepped behind the counter, grabbing my hands.

"Quinn?"

"I'm fine," I said. Then I looked at the girl, "He was your first. You shouldn't have given yourself to him."

The girl stepped away from the counter, her body shaking. Mercedes walked over to her and squeezed her shoulder.

"It's alright," she said.

The girl sniffed as a small trickle of blood dripped from her left nostril, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand, leaving a red smear on her pale flesh.

"Damn nosebleeds," she said.

Mercedes grabbed a couple of Starbucks napkins off the counter and handed them to her. The girl wiped up the blood, a self-defeating laugh erupted from her and she cried as she balled up the napkins in her hands. I looked over at my sister who was staring at me, she blinked once, and for the first time in forever, she released the mindblock.

"We can help her."

"No."

"Quinn please."

"Why"

"She's hurting."

"That's not our problem."

"She needs our help."

"Do you want to move again?"

"This is different."

"No it isn't."

"She's slipping. I know you feel it."

Mercedes blinked twice and set the mindblock in place again.

I looked at the girl. She probably woke up everyday wishing for another existence. My sister stared at me. Even though the mindblock was there, our bond was strong, and I knew to save a world that denied us.

"Please, Quinn," she whispered.

Before I changed my mind, I walked around and joined them on the other side of the counter. I placed my hand on the girl's right arm while Mercedes held the left one. Though I wanted no part of this, it was nice teaming up with my sister, channeling our energy together.

"We're going to help you," I said.

"I'm fine. It' just a nosebleed."

"That's not the problem."

"It's not?"

"Close your eyes."

"But I –"

"There's more wrong with you than a nosebleed."

She looked at me and Mercedes then closed her eyes.

"This better be good. Don't know why I'm trusting you."

I nodded at my sister and we closed our eyes and looked inside the broken girl, we felt her running through a back alley slipping, falling, then a icy cold current traveled through her; and we felt her fear. We reached deeper inside her and we used our energy to send light - expanding the force until joyous feelings surfaced: an inner peace that felt like music, sunshine, and laughter. Mercedes' light current was lavender while mine was a deep blue, the currents circled around us, buzzing about, intertwining, I felt one with my sister, and it overwhelmed me in a good way; we were together in strength and power. Neither one of us taking control, we took turns leading the energy, and we found the girl's strength buried beneath her black despair.

Slowly, we pulled her into an embrace and she cried on our shoulders, feeling the wonder and light. It was awkward and strange, even beautiful in a way. We held her between us, as she grew stronger and felt the exhilaration of floating above the world with no loss or pain. The girl's tears became tiny crystals as they touched my skin, and I brushed them away before she could see; she was too wrapped up in her emotions, her eyes firmly shut, to even notice the beauty coming from her sorrow. A tiny drop of her blood landed on my shoulder and became a red crystal. Her nose stopped bleeding. I touched Mercedes' arm, signaling her to open her eyes. We stared at each other for a long moment, our light currents fading into the air and soon the girl opened her eyes, pulling out of our embrace.

"I need to sit down."

We walked her over to the velvet couch in the corner of the shop and helped her sit down.

"Do you want some ginger tea?" Mercedes asked

"What did you do? I feel powerful."

I touched her cheek.

"We didn't do anything. You already had it in you. The heartbreak wont' go away overnight, but you have something greater inside. You remember that when the darkness sets in. We just shined a light on it."

"I wanted to die. Now I don't feel like that anymore."

Mercedes went to the front of the shop and came back with a heart-shaped bottle of perfume and handed it to her.

"Use this on the bad days."

"I don't wear perfume."

"Try it anyway."

The girl unscrewed the top, taking a whiff, she smiled, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Wild violets - my favorite flower. I'm not even going to ask how you knew."

"What's your name?" Mercedes asked.

"Kat."

"Short for Katherine?"

"No, just Kat," she hesitated for second then said, "I don't know what happened here today, but you both saved me."

She had this serene expression on her face like she just spoke to the Dalai Lama about the meaning of life. I knew that look and the danger that came with it.

"Kat, you have to keep this to yourself," I said.

She laughed but her eyes were serious.

"Why? You didn't cast a happy spell on me or something, did you?"

"We're not witches. It's just that – well, it's like this, um -"

Mercedes interrupted me as I struggled for the words.

"People don't always understand things.

Kat looked at us.

"What are you?"

I didn't answer her question.

"For your own good, I said, squeezing her arm, "Don't say anything."

At first I thought she would protest some more and I wasn't in the mood to beg her for silence. As much as I loved my sister, I hated that we did what we did, and knowing the risk and consequences. Kat sighed and said:

"Ok."

"Thanks."

Mercedes took the perfume and boxed it up in one of our signature white boxes with the lavender and blue rose logo printed on the front.

"If you ever need to talk, you can always come back."

Kat hugged us.

"I have to go. But I'll be back."

"It's starting again," I said once the door closed behind Kat and she was out of earshot, "We made a mistake."

"We saved a girl's life."

"That's not our job. This is the last time. No more."

Mercedes challenged me.

"Then whose job is it?"

"Cedes, I don't want to grab every drowning person out of the ocean because I know what happens when I do. I'm proud of our powers, but I'll be damned if we have to save every soul that crosses our path. We're not angels!"

"We've had some rough spots I know but –"

"Rough spots? We were almost killed! Those strangers you love to save don't give a shit about us, open your eyes for once."

"My eyes are open. I want to help people. That's in my heart and I know it's in yours too, you're just too chicken to face it."

"Are you serious? I just put my ass on the line for you and some chick I don't even know because she's a lovesick, suicidal basket case, despite the fact that it was probably the dumbest thing we could've ever done and all because you wanted it. And now, God knows what's going to happen. I'm surprised you didn't want save Sam."

Mercedes looked away from me and in that moment I knew. I sat down on the couch.

"Not again."

Mercedes sat down beside me, sitting close enough for our shoulders to touch.

"I wasn't thinking that. Besides, Sam is an adult. Kat's just a kid. There's a difference."

She had a point. Kids were her weakness. I stood up.

"It's time to close-up."

I walked over to the door and turned the Open sign around to Closed. I gazed at the icy street sparkling under the fading sunlight. Across the street, the Tammy Lynn Bake Shop with its gaudy hot pink awning and display of neon-colored cupcakes in the window, bustled with customers. The owner, Tammy Lynn, was a chain-smoking former prostitute who turned her life around and opened a bakery. She told us her life story when we first came to North Star three months ago. Sometimes she brought test cakes, asking us to sample new flavors she was trying out: Margarita coconut, lemon Zifandel, Grey Goose vanilla … she loved using liquor in her recipes because it gave the cake a "kick" of something different. Just then Tammy Lynn came out of the shop and waved, her bulbous figure wrapped up in a bright orange coat, matching the color of her hair. She walked down the street, puffing away on a cigarette and chatting into her cell phone. In the distance, gray smoke from the Queen Bee caramel factory, rose into the air, polluting North Star, and releasing that sweet candy scent that I loved. A group of Praise singers walked downhill on the cobblestone sidewalks, their shiny blue and gold robes blew in the wind, as they sang Rock of Ages. All year round they sang in the streets at sunset. Their angelic voices drowned out the car engines and passerby chatter. I thought it was odd but the Praise singers were a North Star tradition like the Queen Bee Festival. Their singing made me listen and feel, I remembered sitting on Grandma's Sadie's lap as she brushed my hair, humming hymns and telling me not to worry about people who didn't understand. I watched the Praise singers descend down the hill, coming closer to the shop.

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

let me hide myself in thee;

let the water and the blood,

from thy wounded side which flowed,

be of sin the double cure;

save from wrath and make me pure

Mercedes sang along and I closed my eyes soaking up the music and memories. Then I felt her beside me, she held my hand, her voice close to my ear:

Not the labors of my hands

can fulfill thy law's commands;

could my zeal no respite know,

could my tears forever flow,

all for sin could not atone;

thou must save, and thou alone

Soon I was singing with her, and together we watched the sea of blue and gold, glide past our shop, young and old faces blended together like their voices, something about those robes made them the same. After they were further down the street, I closed the blinds and Mercedes began shutting off the lights, I glanced down and saw Kat's tear and blood crystals on the floor in front of the counter. Mercedes saw them too and she bent down, scooping them up.

"We did this," she said looking down at the crystals in the palm of her hand.

The crystals were beautiful, sparkling in the dim light. They could shine through any darkness.

"It's not worth the consequences."

Mercedes dropped a few crystals into my hand.

"This is hope and strength and love. It's all the wonderful things people forget. They don't know their worth."

"Is it our job to show them?"

She didn't answer me. Instead she put the crystals in the front pocket of her jeans.

"I'll put these with the others."

ooo

Sam

I gazed up at the busty redhead who straddled my thighs, her black leather skirt, hiked up with each movement and I saw a skull tattoo just above her knee. She wore a gold necklace that spelled out the word "Bitchin" and it shined in the lamplight. She smelled like cigarettes and drugstore perfume. Perfume. I wondered what Mercedes would smell on this woman who was determined to fuck me? Maybe some childhood tragedy? And why was I wondering about Mercedes? My one-night stand's name was Crystal-Jane, but she liked to be called CJ for short.

She pinched my cheek. Her big green eyes were glazed over from the pills she took after we got in my car.

"You think I'm hot, right?"

"You're beautiful," I said, hoping this would shut her up.

She smiled, leaned down, and kissed me, grinding her hips. I kissed her back, pulling her down further, dominating her; she said she liked hot older men. I wasn't that old, but in her nineteen year-old mind, I may as well have been Hugh Hefner. The kiss was sloppy, almost gross with too much saliva, and she did this weird biting thing. I felt like I was acting in a really bad porno. The taste of beer and vodka lingered on my tongue. Even with CJ's wet dream body, and dirty talk about what she was going to do to my cock, I could'nt get hard. Instead I felt queasy, and pushed her away, rushing to the bathroom, where I threw up in the toilet. CJ banged on the door.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah."

"I heard you hurl. Make sure you use mouthwash. I ain't that freaky."

"Yeah, ok."

"I have to pee."

"Use the one upstairs. First door on the left."

"Thanks."

I flushed the toilet and sat down on the bathroom floor. My cell phone rang. It was Artie.

"Hey, Artie, this isn't a good time."

"What's her name?"

"Crystal-Jane."

"Let me guess. She's got a tattoo, takes topless selfies and likes Twilight, am I right?"

"Two out of three. I don't know about Twilight."

"Age?"

"Nineteen."

"Rob that cradle."

I stood up and sat on the edge of the bathtub.

"She's legal."

Artie sang in that bluesy voice of his:

She's nineteen years old. And got ways just like a baby child

Nothin' I can do to please her. Woah, yeah, woah yeah, woah yeah, nothing, to make this young woman feel satisfied…

"Thank you Muddy Waters," I said, "Now, why did you call?"

"I got all caught up in your Lolita sex quest that I almost forgot something very important."

"Which is?"

"Stay away from those Fabray chicks; they're bad news."

"What?"

"I did some checking and -, he stopped speaking then said, "hold on."

As I sat there waiting for him, I wondered what he had to tell me. I'm supposed to meet them this weekend. CJ knocked on the door.

"I got a surprise for you!"

"That's nice."

She tried to open the door, but I had locked it.

"Why don't you come out?"

"I'm washing up."

"My tits are real."

"I know."

"Don't you want me?"

"I'll be out soon."

I listened to her huff and then heard her cowboy boots clicking across the hardwood floor as she walked away. Artie finally came back to the phone.

"Sorry about that. Brittany thinks Lord Tubbington suffers from Multiple Personality Disorder."

It shocked me that Brittany would even know what that was but refrained from saying so.

"What's so bad about Mercedes and Quinn?"

"I hired a PI and he found out that –"

CJ banged on the door.

"I'm tired of waiting!"

"I'm busy."

"But I have a surprise."

"I'll be out in ten minutes."

Once she was gone, I got back on the phone.

"Testy one, isn't she?" Artie said, and I imagined he was smirking. Then I heard Brittany in the background.

"Artie, Lord Tubbington thinks he's Miley Cyrus. We can't give him away."

I could tell she was crying. Artie was a goner every time his wife cried.

"I'll email you the information."

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"It's complicated."

"I'm supposed to meet them this weekend."

"Sam, whatever you do, don't go."

In the background Brittany was hysterical, crying about that stupid cat.

"Artie, dude, you can't just call me and say –"

"Brittany needs me. I'll send it to you tonight." Then he hung up.

I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and gargled. When I got to the living room, I found CJ sprawled out on the couch wearing my ex-wife's sheer white baby doll nightgown, her huge, gravity-defying breasts strained against the lacy top, her legs spread like a Hustler centerfold, revealing a dewy pink center and a strip of red pubic hair. A price tag dangled from the hemline. I bought it for my ex-wife before the divorce, and I never got a chance to give it to her. I didn't know why I kept it.

CJ winked at me as she pinched her hard nipples.

"Surprise."

I felt sick again. I wanted her about as much as I wanted an STD.

"Get out."

"What?"

"Take it off and get out."

"What's wrong? What did I do?"

"It belongs to my wife."

CJ narrowed her eyes.

"I thought you were divorced."

"I am."

"Then she's your ex-wife. Anyway, what's the big deal? Why'd you keep it? Do you cross-dress or something? That's totally cool with me as long as it stays in the house, you know?"

"You don't come into my home and go through my stuff."

She shrugged.

"I was looking for weed."

"Take it off, get dressed, and go." I said

She sat up and folded her arms, pushing up her breasts like an offering.

"You drove me here, remember?"

Shit, I forgot that little detail. I had told her to leave her motorcycle in the Denny's parking lot. What the hell was wrong with me? A drugged out waitress flirted with me as she served me burned potatoes and eggs and I was so desperate and lonely that I thought bringing her home was a good idea?

"I'll drive you back to Denny's."

"I can't believe you're turning this down," she said as she stood up, holding her arms open, giving me a better look. I shook my head.

"Do you want to walk back to town?"

CJ glared at me and took off the nightgown, yanking it over her head and throwing it on the floor, leaving her nude body on open display, a faint, rosy blush spread across her china-doll skin. She put her hands on her hips.

"I'm ready."

I was about as aroused as a eunuch. I stared down at the nightgown; it looked like a wedding veil. I picked it up.

"I'll be out in the car," I said and left her standing there in the middle of living room, with her cherry-red mouth hanging open because I committed the queen mother of sexual sins by turning her down.

I walked outside into the freezing night air, still clutching the nightgown, I squeezed the delicate material bunched between my hands, and it reminded me of another life with my ex-wife and daughter. And now a strange, whorish girl had worn it.

After I got in the car, I checked my phone and searched my email until I found a new message from Artie. My hands shook as I opened it.

"Sam," the message began, "You won't believe this…"

End Notes: Thanks for reading!