“I don’t think the way to stop him is to clear out all the pets,” Gage began, “ban alcohol, drugs, and sex and make sure everyone gets a good night’s sleep.”
“Too bad,” Cybil tossed back, “because it might buy us some time. Keep going, Q.”
“Next question would be, how does he generate the energy he needs?”
“Fear, hate, violence.” Cal nodded. “We’ve got that. We can’t cut off his supply because you can’t block those emotions out of the population. They exist.”
“So do their counterparts, so we can hypothesize that those are weapons or countermeasures against him. You’ve all gotten stronger over time, and so has he. Maybe he’s able to store some of this energy he pulls in during the dormant period.”
“And so he’s able to start sooner, start stronger the next time. Okay,” Cal decided. “Okay, it makes sense.”
“He’s using some of that store now,” Layla put in, “because he doesn’t want all six of us to stick this out. He wants to fracture the group before July.”
“He must be disappointed.” Cybil picked up the wine she’d nursed throughout the discussion. “Knowledge is power and all that, and it’s good to have logical theories, more areas to research. But it seems to be we need to move. We need a strategy. Got any, Mr. Strategy?”
From his spot on the floor, Fox grinned. “Yeah. I say as soon as the snow melts enough for us to get through it, we go to the clearing. We go to the Pagan Stone, all of us together. And we double-dog dare the son of a bitch.”
IT SOUNDED GOOD IN THEORY. IT WAS A DIFFERENT matter, in Cal’s mind, when you added the human factor. When you added Quinn. He’d taken her there once before, and he’d zoned out, leaving her alone and vulnerable.
And he hadn’t loved her then.
He knew there was no choice, that there were bigger stakes involved. But the idea of putting her at risk, at deliberately putting her at the center of it with him, kept him awake and restless.
He wandered the house, checking locks, staring out windows for any glimpse of the thing that stalked them. The moon was out, and the snow tinted blue under it. They’d be able to shovel their way out the next day, he thought, dig out the cars. Get back to what passed for normal within a day or two.
He already knew if he asked her to stay, just stay, she’d tell him she couldn’t leave Layla and Cybil on their own. He already knew he’d have to let her go.
He couldn’t protect her every hour of every day, and if he tried, they’d end up smothering each other.
As he moved through the living room, he saw the glow of the kitchen lights. He headed back to turn them off and check locks. And there was Gage, sitting at the counter playing solitaire with a mug of coffee steaming beside the discard pile.
“A guy who drinks black coffee at one a.m. is going to be awake all night.”
“It never keeps me up.” Gage flipped a card, made his play. “When I want to sleep, I sleep. You know that. What’s your excuse?”
“I’m thinking it’s going to be a long, hard, messy hike into the woods even if we wait a month. Which we probably should.”
“No. Red six on black seven. You’re trying to come up with a way to go in without Quinn. Without any of them, really, but especially the blonde.”
“I told you how it was when we went in before.”
“And she walked out again on her own two sexy legs. Jack of clubs on queen of diamonds. I’m not worried about her. I’m worried about you.”
Cal’s back went up. “Is there a time I didn’t handle myself?”
“Not up until now. But you’ve got it bad, Hawkins. You’ve got it bad for the blonde, and being you, your first and last instinct is going to be to cover her ass if anything goes down.”
“Shouldn’t it be?” He didn’t want any damn coffee, but since he doubted he’d sleep anyway, he poured some. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I’d lay money that your blonde can handle herself. Doesn’t mean you’re wrong, Cal. I imagine if I had a woman inside me the way she’s inside you, I wouldn’t want to put how she handled herself to the test. The trouble is, you’re going to have to.”
“I never wanted to feel this way,” Cal said after a moment. “This is a good part of the reason why. We’re good together, Gage.”
“I can see that for myself. Don’t know what she sees in a loser like you, but it’s working for her.”
“We could get better. I can feel we’d just get better, make something real and solid. If we had the chance, if we had the time, we’d make something together.”
Casually, Gage gathered up the cards, shuffled them with a blur of speed. “You think we’re going down this time.”
“Yeah.” Cal looked out the window at the cold, blue moonlight. “I think we’re going down. Don’t you?”
“Odds are.” Gage dealt them both a hand of blackjack. “But hell, who wants to live forever?”
“That’s the problem. Now that I’ve found Quinn, forever sounds pretty damn good.” Cal glanced at his hole card, noted the king to go with his three. “Hit me.”
With a grin, Gage flipped over a nine. “Sucker.”
Twenty
CAL HOPED FOR A WEEK, TWO IF HE COULD MANAGE it. And got three days. Nature screwed his plans again, this time shooting temperatures up into the fifties. Mountains of snow melted into hills while the February thaw brought the fun of flash flooding, swollen creeks, and black ice when the thermometer dropped to freezing each night.
But three days after he’d had his lane plowed and the women were back in the house on High Street, the weather stabilized. Creeks ran high, but the ground sucked up most of the runoff. And he was coming up short on excuses to put off the hike to the Pagan Stone.
At his desk, with Lump contentedly sprawled on his back in the doorway, feet in the air, Cal put his mind into work. The winter leagues were winding up, and the spring groups would go into gear shortly. He knew he was on the edge of convincing his father the center would profit from the automatic scoring systems, and wanted to give it one more solid push. If they moved on it soon, they could have the systems up and running for the spring leagues.
They’d want to advertise, run a few specials. They’d have to train the staff, which meant training themselves.
He brought up the spreadsheet for February, noted that the month so far had been solid, even up a bit from last year. He’d use that as more ammunition. Which, of course, his father could and would counter that if they were up the way things were, why change it?
As he was holding the conversation in his head, Cal heard the click that meant a new e-mail had come in. He toggled over, saw Quinn’s address.
Hi, Love of My Life,
I didn’t want to call in case you were knee-deep in whatever requires you to be knee-deep. Let me know when you’re not.
Meanwhile, this is Black’s Local Weather Service reporting: Temperatures today should reach a high of forty-eight under partly sunny skies. Lows in the upper thirties. No precipitation is expected. Tomorrow’s forecast is for sunny with a high of fifty.
Adding the visual, I can see widening patches of grass in both the front and backyard. Realistically, there’s probably more snow, more mud in the woods, but, baby, it’s time to saddle up and move out.
My team can be ready bright and early tomorrow and will bring suitable provisions.
Also, Cyb’s confirmed the Clark branch connection, and is currently climbing out on some Kinski limbs to verify that. She thinks she may have a line on a couple of possibilities where Ann Hawkins stayed, or at least where she might have gone to give birth. I’ll fill you in when I see you.
Let me know, soon as you can, if tomorrow works.
XXOO Quinn.
(I know that whole XXOO thing is dopey, but it seemed more refined than signing off with: I wish you could come over and do me. Even though I do.)