“Too late for that, you already put her first. Don’t bother bullshitting me. You’ve got a thing. Why wouldn’t you have a thing?”
“The thing is sex,” Gage insisted. “And, sure, a mutual dependency given the circumstances. We’re in this together, so we look out for each other. That’s all I’m doing.”
“Uh-huh.”
Gage turned back with a stony look that did nothing to break Cal ’s grin. “Look, it’s different for you.”
“Sex is different for me?”
“For one thing.” Frustrated, Gage jammed his hands in his pockets. “For a lot of things. You’re dead-normal guy.”
“Don’t use the word dead, under the circumstances.”
Jingling the change in his pocket, Gage worked it out in his head. “You’re Bowl-a-Rama boy, Cal. House-in-the-country guy, with the tight family ball, the big, stupid dog-no offense,” he added, glancing down at Lump, who snored away with all four feet in the air.
“None taken.”
“You’re a Hawkins of the Hollow, and always will be. You’ve got the sexy blonde who’s happy to plunk her particularly fine ass down here with you and your big, stupid dog in your house in the country, and raise a brood of kids.”
“Sounds about right.”
“As for Fox, he’s as mired here as you. Hippie kid turned town lawyer with his sprawling and interesting family who snags the pretty brunette who turns out to have a spine of steel-enough of one to open a business in this town because that works for them. Like the house with a garden and a bunch of kids will work for them. The four of you will probably be happy as lunatics.”
“That’s the plan.”
“That’s if we live, and you know, I know, we all know some of us might not make it.”
“If and might.” Cal nodded. “Well, life’s a gamble.”
“For me, gambling’s life. If I get through, it’s on to the next. There’s no house in the country, no nine-to-five or what’s for dinner, honey in me.”
“And you figure that’s what Cybil’s looking for?”
“I don’t know what she’s looking for. It’s not my business to know, that’s the point.” Uneasy, he raked his fingers through his dark hair. Then stopped, annoyed, knowing the gesture was one of his tells. “We’re having sex,” he continued. “We’ve got a mutual goal to kill this bastard and live to talk about it. That’s it.”
“Fine.” Obligingly, Cal spread his hands. “Then what are you so worked up about?”
“I… Damned if I know,” Gage admitted. “Maybe I don’t want to be responsible, and linking up that way makes me responsible. They can claim equal shares all they want, but you know how it is, you know how it feels.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“What happened… What it did to her, how am I supposed to get that out of my head, Cal? How am I supposed to put that aside?”
“You can’t, you don’t. But that doesn’t mean we can stop. We all know that, too.”
“Maybe she gets to me.” He let out a breath. “Okay, she gets to me, no maybe about it. Hardly a surprise, considering.” His fingers itched to drag through his hair again, and he kept them firmly at his side. “This is all fucking intense.”
“Caring about her doesn’t equal house in the country and big, stupid dog, son.”
“No.” Gage let himself relax. “No, it doesn’t. I could spell that out for her. Diplomatically this time.”
“Sure, you do that. I’ll bring the platter so your head has somewhere to sit after she knocks it off and hands it to you.”
“Point,” Gage muttered. “So we let it ride, that’s all. But when we do the link-up, I want you and Fox there.”
“Then we will be.”
HE STILL DIDN’T LIKE IT, BUT GAGE WAS REALISTIC enough to know a lot of things needed doing he didn’t like. He’d offset that by setting the time and place. His ground-and Cal ’s house was the closest to his ground as any in the Hollow-and late enough in the day to have his brothers with him.
If anything went wrong, he’d have backup.
“Even considering Crazy Roscoe, I’d rather do this outside.” Cybil glanced around the room, then zeroed in on Gage. “The fact is, we might need to do this later on, and in the open, so we might as well figure out how to defend ourselves if necessary.”
“Fine. Hold on.” Gage walked out of the room, returning moments later with his Luger.
“Don’t even think about handing that to me,” Fox told him.
“So grab a garden tool like last time.” Gage turned to Cal.
“Okay. Shit.” With considerable care, Cal took the gun.
“Safety’s on.”
Cybil opened her bag, took out her.22 and handed it to Quinn. Quinn flipped open the cylinder, examined the chamber, then smoothly locked it back in place. “Okay,” she said while Cal stared at her.
“Well, the things you learn about the love of your life. Maybe you should take the big one.”
“That’s okay, cutie, you can handle it.”
“Quinn’s an excellent shot,” Cybil commented. “So, are we ready for this?”
As they headed out the back, through the kitchen, Fox pulled two knives from the block on Cal ’s counter. “Just in case,” he said when he gave one to Layla.
“Just in case.”
Clouds were edging in, Gage noted, but for now there was enough light and the breeze was easy. Like Cybil, he sat on the grass while their friends circled around them.
“Why don’t we try to focus on a specific place?” she suggested.
“Such as?”
“Right here. Cal ’s house. It’s a good starting point. We can work our way out from there. Ease into it this time, and we might lessen the side effects.”
“Okay.” He took her hands. He looked into her eyes. This place, he thought. This grass, this wood, this glass, this dirt.
He saw it in his mind, the lay of the land, the slopes and rises, the lines of the house. Colors and shapes. As he let it form, the greens of spring, the blooms of it faded, withered, browned. White crept in until snow covered the ground, layered on the branches. It fell still, in fat, fast flakes. He felt them, cold and wet against his skin. In his hands, Cybil’s hands chilled.
Smoke spiraled from the chimney, and a cardinal, a bright red splash, winged through the falling snow to land in the bird feeder.
Inside, he thought. Who was inside? Who’d built the fire, filled the feeder? Gripping Cybil’s hand, he walked through the walls, into the kitchen. A bowl he recognized as Fox’s mother’s work sat on the counter holding fruit. Music drifted in, something classical that struck the first uneasy note in him. Cal wasn’t the classical type, and he’d never known Quinn to go for it.
Who was listening to the music? Who’d bought the apples, the oranges in the bowl? The thought of strangers in Cal ’s house pushed him forward, lit a spark of anger in him. Cybil’s hands tightened on his, nudged him back. He sensed, almost heard her.
No anger. No fear. Wait and see.
Locking down emotion, he moved with her.
A fire crackled in the hearth. Tulips spilled out of a clear glass vase on the mantel. And on the couch, Quinn slept under a colorful blanket. As he watched, Cal stepped to her, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. Even as the restrained tension eased out of Gage, Quinn stirred.
She smiled as her eyes opened. “Hi.”
“Hi, Blondie.”
“Sorry. Mozart may be good for the kid, but it puts me to sleep every time.”
As she shifted, as the blanket slid down, Gage saw she was hugely pregnant. Her hands crossed over her belly, and Cal ’s closed over them.
It flicked off, the sounds, the images, the scents, and he was back on the grass staring into Cybil’s eyes.
“It’s nice to have a positive possibility for a change,” she managed.
“Headache?” Quinn asked immediately. “Nausea?”
“Not really. It was easier, smoother. And the vision was a quiet one. I think that makes a difference, too. A happy one. You and Cal, in the house. It was winter, and you were sitting in front of the fire.”