by Nora Roberts
“We’ll get to that, I promise.” Quinn offered her a bolstering smile. “Why don’t you eat something, settle the nerves?”
“I think it’s going to be a while before food holds any appeal for me.”
“Mr. Slug slimed right over the bread bowl,” Quinn explained. “It was pretty damn gross. Sadly, nothing puts me off food.” She snagged a couple of cold fries. “So, if we run with Fox’s theory, where is its counterpoint? The good to its bad, the white to its dark. All my research on this points to both sides.”
“Maybe it can’t pull out yet, or it’s hanging back.”
“Or the two of you connect to the dark, and not the light,” Cal added.
Quinn narrowed her eyes at him, with something glinting between her lashes. Then she shrugged. “Insulting, but unarguable at this time. Except for the fact that, logically, if we were more a weight on the bad side, why is said bad side trying to scare the living daylights out of us?”
“Good point,” Cal conceded.
“I want some answers.”
Quinn nodded at Layla. “I bet you do.”
“I want some serious, sensible answers.”
“Thumbnail: The town includes an area in the woods known as the Pagan Stone. Bad stuff happened there. Gods, demons, blood, death, fire. I’m going to lend you a couple of books on the subject. Centuries pass, then something opened it up again. Since nineteen eighty-seven, for seven nights in July, every seventh year, it comes out to play. It’s mean, it’s ugly, and it’s powerful. We’re getting a preview.”
Gratefully, Layla held out her glass for more wine as she studied Quinn. “Why haven’t I ever heard of this? Or this place?”
“There have been some books, some articles, some reports—but most of them hit somewhere between alien abductions and sightings of Bigfoot,” Quinn explained. “There’s never been a serious, thorough, fully researched account published. That’s going to be my job.”
“All right. Say I believe all this, and I’m not sure I’m not just having the mother of all hallucinations, why you, and you?” she said to Fox and Cal. “Where do you come in?”
“Because we’re the ones who opened it,” Fox told her. “Cal, me, and a friend who’s currently absent. Twenty-one years ago this July.”
“But you’d have been kids. You’d have had to have been—”
“Ten,” Cal confirmed. “We share a birthday. It was our tenth birthday. Now, we showed some of ours. How about seeing some of yours. Why did you come here?”
“Fair enough.” Layla took another slow sip of her wine. Whether it was that or the brightly lit kitchen with a dog snoring under the table or just having a group of strangers who were likely to believe what she was about to tell them, her nerves were steadier.
“I’ve been having dreams for the last several nights. Nightmares or night terrors. Sometimes I’d wake up in my bed, sometimes I’d wake up trying to get out the door of my apartment. You said blood and fire. There was both in the dreams, and a kind of altar in a clearing in the woods. I think it was stone. And there was water, too. Black water. I was drowning in it. I was captain of the swim team in high school, and I was drowning.”
She shuddered, took another breath. “I was afraid to sleep. I thought I heard voices even when I wasn’t asleep. I couldn’t understand them, but I’d be at work, doing my job, or stopping by the dry cleaners on the way home, and these voices would just fill my head. I thought I was having a breakdown. But why? Then I thought maybe I had a brain tumor. I even thought about making an appointment with a neurologist. Then last night, I took a sleeping pill. Maybe I could just drug my way out of it. But it came, and in the dream something was in bed with me.”
Her breath trembled out this time. “Not my bed, but somewhere else. A small room, a small hot room with a tiny window. I was someone else. I can’t explain it, really.”
“You’re doing fine,” Quinn assured her.
“It was happening to me, but I wasn’t me. I had long hair, and the shape of my body, it was different. I was wearing a long nightgown. I know because it…it pulled it up. It was touching me. It was cold, it was so cold. I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t fight, even when it raped me. It was inside me, but I couldn’t see, I couldn’t move. I felt it, all of it, as if it were happening, but I couldn’t stop it.”
She wasn’t aware of the tears until Fox pressed a napkin into her hand. “Thanks. When it was over, when it was gone, there was a voice in my head. Just one voice this time, and it calmed me, it made me warm again and took away the pain. It said: ‘Hawkins Hollow.’”
“Layla, were you raped?” Fox spoke very quietly. “When you came out of the dream, was there any sign you’d been raped?”
“No.” She pressed her lips together, kept her gaze on his face. His eyes were golden brown, and full of compassion. “I woke up in my own bed, and I made myself go…check. There was nothing. It hurt me, so there would’ve been bruises, there would’ve been marks, but there was nothing. It was early in the morning, not quite four in the morning, and I kept thinking Hawkins Hollow. So I packed, and I took a cab out to the airport to rent a car. Then I drove here. I’ve never been here.”
She paused to look at Quinn now, at Cal. “I’ve never heard of Hawkins Hollow that I can remember, but I knew what roads to take. I knew how to get here, and how to get to the hotel. I checked in this morning, went up to the room they gave me, and I slept like the dead until nearly six. When I walked into the dining room and saw that thing, I thought I was still asleep. Dreaming again.”
“It’s a wonder you didn’t bolt,” Quinn commented.
Layla sent her an exhausted look. “To where?”
“There’s that.” Quinn put a hand on Layla’s shoulder, rubbing gently as she spoke. “I think we all need as much information as there is to be had, from every source there is. I think, from this point, it’s share and share alike, one for goddamn all and all for goddamn one. You don’t like that,” she said with a nod toward Cal, “but I think you’re going to have to get used to it.”
“You’ve been in this for days. Fox and I have lived with it for years. Lived in it. So, don’t put on your badge and call yourself captain yet, Blondie.”
“Living in it for twenty-one years gives you certain advantages. But you haven’t figured it out, you haven’t stopped it or even identified it, as far as I can tell, in your twenty-one-year experience. So loosen up.”
“You poked at my ninety-seven-year-old great-grandmother today.”
“Oh, bull. Your remarkable and fascinating ninety-seven-year-old great-grandmother came up to where I was researching in the library, sat down, and had a conversation with me of her own free will. There was no poking. My keen observation skills tell me you didn’t inherit your tight-ass tendencies from her.”
“Kids, kids.” Fox held up a hand. “Tense situation, agreed, but we’re all on the same side, or are on the same side potentially. So chill. Cal, Quinn makes a good point, and it bears consideration. At the same time, Quinn, you’ve been in the Hollow a couple of days, and Layla less than that. You’re going to have to be patient, and accept the fact that some areas of information are more sensitive than others, and may take time to be offered. Even if we start with what can and has been corroborated or documented—”
“What are you, a lawyer?” Layla asked.
“Yeah.”
“Figures,” she said under her breath.
“Let’s just table this,” Cal suggested. “Let’s let it sit, so we can all think about it for the night. I said I’d take you to the Pagan Stone tomorrow, and I will. Let’s see how it goes.”
“Accepted.”
“Are you two all right at the hotel? You can stay here if you’re not easy about going back.”
The fact that he’d offered had Quinn’s hackles smoothing down again. “We’re not wimps, are we, Layla?”
“I wouldn’t have said I was a few days ago. Now, I’m not so sure. But I’ll be all right at the hotel.” I
n fact, she wanted to go back, crawl into that big, soft bed and pull the covers over her head. “I slept better there than I have all week, so that’s something.”
Quinn decided she’d wait until they were back before she advised Layla to lower all the shades, and maybe leave a light burning.
Eight
IN THE MORNING, QUINN PRESSED AN EAR AGAINST the door to Layla’s room. Since she heard the muted sounds of the Today show, she gave the door a knuckle rap. “It’s Quinn,” she added, in case Layla was still jumpy.
Layla opened the door in a pretty damn cute pair of purple-and-white-striped pajama pants and a purple sleep tank. There was color in her cheeks, and her quiet green eyes had the clarity that told Quinn she’d been awake awhile.
“I’m about to head out to Cal’s. Mind if I come in a minute?”
“No.” She stepped back. “I was trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do with myself today.”
“You can come with me if you want.”
“Into the woods? Not quite ready for that, thanks. You know…” Layla switched off the TV before dropping into a chair. “I was thinking about the wimp statement you made last night. I’ve never been a wimp, but it occurred to me as I was huddled in bed with the shades drawn and this stupid chair under the doorknob that I’ve never had anything happen that tested that before. My life’s been pretty normal.”
“You came here, and you’re still here. So I’m thinking that puts you pretty low on the wimp scale. How’d you sleep?”
“Good. Once I got there, good. No dreams, no visitations, no bumps in the night. So, of course, now I’m wondering why.”
“No dreams for me either.” Quinn glanced around the room. Layla’s bed was a sleigh style and the color scheme was muted greens and creams. “We could theorize that your room here’s a safe zone, but that’s off because mine isn’t, and it’s two doors down. It could be that whatever it is just took the night off. Maybe needed to recharge some expended energy.”
“Happy thought.”
“You’ve got my cell number, Cal’s, Fox’s. We’ve got yours. We’re—connected. I wanted to let you know that the diner across the street, figuring you’re not going to try the dining room here again, has a nice breakfast.”
“I’m thinking I might try room service, and start on the books that you gave me last night. I didn’t want to try them for bedtime reading.”
“Wise. Okay. If you head out, it’s a nice town. Some cute little shops, a little museum I haven’t had time to explore so can’t give you a rating, and there’s always the Bowl-a-Rama.”
A hint of a smile appeared around Layla’s mouth. “Is there?”
“It’s Cal’s family’s place. Interesting, and it feels like the hub of the town. So, I’ll look you up when I get back?”
“Okay. Quinn?” Layla added as Quinn reached for the door. “Wimp scale or not, I’m not sure I’d still be here if I hadn’t run into you.”
“I know how you feel. I’ll see you later.”
CAL WAS WAITING FOR HER WHEN SHE DROVE UP. He stepped out, started down the steps, the dog wandering behind him, as she got out of the car. He took a scan, starting with her feet. Good, sturdy hiking boots that showed some scars and wear, faded jeans, tough jacket in I’m-Not-a-Deer red, and a multistriped scarf that matched the cloche-style cap on her head. Silly hat, he mused, that was unaccountably appealing on her.
In any case, he decided she knew what to wear on a hike through the winter woods.
“Do I pass muster, Sergeant?”
“Yeah.” He came down the rest of the steps. “Let’s start this off with me saying I was off base by a couple inches last night. I haven’t completely resolved dealing with you, and now there’s another person in the mix, another unknown. When you live with this as long as I have, part of you gets used to it, and other parts just get edgier. Especially when you’re into the seventh year. So, I’ll apologize, if you need it.”
“Well. Wind, sails sucked out. Okay, I can’t be pissed off after that or it’s just bitchy instead of righteous. So let me say this. Before I came here, this was an idea for a book, a job I enjoy on a level some might consider twisted, and that I consider vastly fascinating. Now, it’s more personal. While I can appreciate you being somewhat edgy, and somewhat proprietary, I’m bringing something important to the table. Experience and objectivity. And guts. I’ve got some impressive guts.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“So, we’re going to do this thing?”
“Yeah, we’re going to do it.”
She gave the dog who came over to lean on her a rub. “Is Lump seeing us off on our adventure?”
“He’s coming. He likes to walk in the woods when the mood strikes. And if he’s had enough, he’ll just lie down and sleep until he’s in the mood to walk back home again.”
“Strikes me as a sensible attitude.” She picked up a small pack, hitched it on, then drew her tape recorder out of her pocket. It was attached to the pocket with a small clamp. “I’m going to want to record observations, and whatever you tell me. Okay with that?”
“Yeah.” He’d given it a lot of thought overnight. “I’m okay with that.”
“Then I’m ready when you are, Tonto.”
“Trail’s going to be sloppy,” he said as they started toward the woods. “Given that, from this point it’ll take about two hours—a little more depending—to reach the clearing.”
“I’m in no hurry.”
Cal glanced up at the sky. “You will be if the weather turns, or anything holds us up after sundown.”
She clicked on her recorder, and hoped she’d been generous enough with her cache of extra tapes and batteries. “Why?”
“Years back people hiked or hunted in this section of the woods routinely. Now they don’t. People got lost, turned around, spooked. Some reported hearing what they thought were bear or wolves. We don’t have wolves and it’s rare for bear to come this far down the mountains. Kids, teens mostly, used to sneak in to swim in Hester’s Pool in the summer, or to screw around. Now they don’t. People used to say the pool was haunted, it was kind of a local legend. Now, people don’t like to talk about it.”
“Do you think it’s haunted?”
“I know there’s something in it. I saw it myself. We’ll talk about that once we get to the pool. No point in going into it now.”
“All right. Is this the way the three of you came in on your birthday twenty-one years ago?”
“We came in from the east.” He gestured. “Track closest to town. This way’s shorter, but it would’ve been a longer ride around for us from town. There wasn’t anything…off about it, until we got to the pool.”
“Have the three of you been back together since that night?”
“Yeah, we went back. More than once.” He glanced toward her. “I can tell you that going back anytime near the Seven isn’t an experience I look forward to repeating.”
“The Seven?”
“That’s what we call the week in July.”
“Tell me more about what happens during the Seven.”
It was time to do just that, he thought. To say it straight-out to someone who wanted to know. To someone, maybe, who was part of the answer.
“People in the Hollow get mean, violent, even murderous. They do things they’d never do at any other time. Destroy property, beat the hell out of each other, start fires. Worse.”
“Murders, suicides.”
“Yeah. After the week’s up, they don’t remember clearly. It’s like watching someone come out of a trance, or a long illness. Some of them are never the same. Some of them leave town. And some fix up their shop or their house, and just go on. It doesn’t hit everyone, and it doesn’t hit those it does all in the same way. The best I can explain is it’s like a mass psychotic episode, and it gets stronger each time.”
“What about the police?”
Out of habit, Cal reached down, picked up a stick. There was no point in tossing it for Lump, t
hat would only embarrass them both. So he held it down so Lump could take it into his mouth and plod contentedly along.
“Chief Larson was in charge last time. He was a good man, went to school with my father. They were friends. The third night, he locked himself in his office. I think he, some part of him anyway, knew what was happening to him, and didn’t want to risk going home to his wife and kids. One of the deputies, guy named Wayne Hawbaker, nephew to Fox’s secretary, came in looking for him, needed help. He heard Larson crying in the office. Couldn’t get him to come out. By the time Wayne knocked down the door, Larson had shot himself. Wayne’s chief of police now. He’s a good man, too.”
How much loss had he seen? Quinn wondered. How many losses had he suffered since his tenth birthday? And yet he was walking back into these woods, back where it all began for him. She didn’t think she’d ever known a braver stand.
“What about the county cops, the state cops?”
“It’s like we’re cut off for that week.” A cardinal winged by, boldly red, carelessly free. “Sometimes people get out, sometimes they get in, but by and large, we’re on our own. It’s like…” He groped for words. “It’s like this veil comes down, and nobody sees, not clearly. Help doesn’t come, and after, nobody questions it too closely. Nobody looks straight on at what happened, or why. So it ends up being lore, or Blair Witch stuff. Then it fades off until it happens again.”
“You stay, and you look at it straight on.”
“It’s my town,” he said simply.
No, Quinn thought, that was the bravest stand she’d ever known.
“How’d you sleep last night?” he asked her.
“Dreamlessly. So did Layla. You?”
“The same. Always before, once it started, it didn’t stop. But then, things are different this time around.”
“Because I saw something, and so did Layla.”
“That’s the big one. And it’s never started this early, or this strong.” As they walked, he studied her face. “Have you ever had a genealogy done?”
“No. You think we’re related back when, or I’m related to someone who was involved in whatever happened at the Pagan Stone way back when?”