by Nora Roberts
“Family mutt attacked an eight-year-old boy,” Fox added. “Middle of that night. The dog had slept with the kid every night for three years. The parents woke up hearing the kid screaming, and when they got to the bedroom, the dog went for them, too. The father had to beat it off with the kid’s baseball bat.”
“It just got worse from there. That night, the next night.” Cal took a long breath. “Then it didn’t always wait for night. Not always.”
“There’s a pattern to it.” Quinn spoke quietly, then glanced up when Cal’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“Where? Other than ordinary people turn violent or psychotic?”
“We saw what happened with Lump. You’ve just told us about another family pet. There have been other incidents like that. Now you’ve said the first overt incident all of you witnessed involved a man who’d had several beers. His alcohol level was probably over the legal limit, meaning he was impaired. Mind’s not sharp after drinking like that. You’re more susceptible.”
“So Guthrie was easier to influence or infect because he was drunk or well on the way?” Fox pushed up to sitting. “That’s good. That makes good sense.”
“The boy who raped his girlfriend of three months then drove into a tree hadn’t been drinking.” Gage shook his head. “Where’s that in the pattern?”
“Sexual arousal and frustration tend to impair the brain.” Quinn tapped her pencil on her pad. “Put those into a teenage boy, and that says susceptible to me.”
“It’s a valid point.” Cal shoved his hand through his hair. Why hadn’t they seen it themselves? “The dead crows. There were a couple dozen dead crows all over Main Street the morning of our birthday that year. Some broken windows where they’d repeatedly flown into the glass. We always figured that was part of it. But nobody got hurt.”
“Does it always start that way?” Layla asked. “Can you pinpoint it?”
“The first I remember from the next time was when the Myerses found their neighbor’s dog drowned in a backyard swimming pool. There was the woman who left her kid locked in the car and went into the beauty salon, got a manicure and so on. It was in the nineties that day,” Fox added. “Somebody heard the kid crying, called the cops. They got the kid out, but when they went in to get the woman, she said she didn’t have a baby. Didn’t know what they were talking about. It came out she’d been up two nights running because the baby had colic.”
“Sleep deprivation.” Quinn wrote it down.
“But we knew it was happening again,” Cal said slowly, “we knew for sure on the night of our seventeenth when Lisa Hodges walked out of the bar at Main and Battlefield, stripped down naked, and started shooting at passing cars with the twenty-two she had in her purse.”
“We were one of the cars,” Gage added. “Good thing for all concerned her aim was lousy.”
“She caught your shoulder,” Fox reminded him.
“She shot you?”
Gage smiled easily at Cybil. “Grazed me, and we heal fast. We managed to get the gun from her before she shot anyone else, or got hit by a car as she was standing buck naked in the middle of the street. Then she offered us blow jobs. Rumor was she gave a doozy, but we weren’t much in the mood to find out.”
“All right, from pattern to theory.” Quinn rose to her feet to work it out. “The thing we’ll call Twisse, because it’s better to have a name for it, requires energy. We’re all made up of energy, and Twisse needs it to manifest, to work. When he’s out, during this time Dent is unable to hold him, he seeks out the easiest sources of energy first. Birds and animals, people who are most vulnerable. As he gets stronger, he’s able to move up the chain.”
“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 mys
elf. 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.)
The last part made him smile even though the text of the post had a headache sneaking up the back of his skull.
He could put her off a day or two, and put her off honestly. He couldn’t expect Fox to dump his scheduled clients or any court appearances at the snap of a finger, and she’d understand that. But if he were to use that, and his own schedule, he had to do it straight.
With some annoyance, he shot an e-mail to Fox, asking when he could clear time for the trip to the clearing. The annoyance increased when Fox answered back immediately.
Fri’s good. Morning’s clear, can clear full day if nec.
“Well, fuck.” Cal pushed on the ache at the back of his head. Since e-mail wasn’t bringing him any luck, he’d go see Quinn in person when he broke for lunch.
AS CAL PREPARED TO CLOSE OUT FOR THE MORNING, Bill Turner stopped in the office doorway.
“Ah, got that toilet fixed in the ladies’ room downstairs, and the leak in the freezer was just a hose needed replacing.”
“Thanks, Bill.” He swung his coat on as he spoke. “I’ve got a couple of things to do in town. Shouldn’t be above an hour.”
“Okay, then. I was wondering if, ah…” Bill rubbed a hand over his chin, let it drop. “I was wondering if you think Gage’ll be coming in, maybe the next day or two. Or if maybe I could, maybe I could run over to your place to have a word with him.”
Rock and a hard place, Cal thought, and bought himself some time by adjusting his jacket. “I don’t know if he’s thinking about dropping by, Bill. He hasn’t mentioned it. I think…Okay, look, I’d give him some time. I’d just give it some time before you made that first move. I know you want—”
“It’s okay. That’s okay. Appreciate it.”
“Shit,” Cal said under his breath as Bill walked away. Then, “Shit, shit, shit,” as he headed out himself.
He had to take Gage’s side in this, how could he not? He’d seen firsthand what Bill’s belt had done to Gage when they’d been kids. And yet, he’d also witnessed, firsthand, the dozens of ways Bill had turned himself around in the last few years.
And, hadn’t he just seen the pain, guilt, even the grief on Bill’s face just now? So either way he went, Cal knew he was going to feel guilty and annoyed.
He walked straight out and over to Quinn’s.
She pulled open the door, yanked him in. Before he could say a word her arms were locked around his neck and her mouth was very busy on his. “I was hoping that was you.”
“Good thing it was, because Greg, the UPS guy on this route, might get the wrong idea if you greeted him that way.”
“He is kind of cute. Come on back to the kitchen. I’d just come down to do a coffee run. We’re all working on various projects upstairs. Did you get my e-mail?”
“Yeah.”
“So, we’re all set for tomorrow?” She glanced back as she reached up for the coffee.
“No, tomorrow’s no good. Fox can’t clear his slate until Friday.”
“Oh.” Her lips moved into a pout, quickly gone. “Okay then, Friday it is. Meanwhile we’ll keep reading, researching, working. Cyb thinks she’s got a couple of good possibilities on…What?” she asked when she got a good look at his face. “What’s going on?”
“Okay.” He took a couple paces away, then back. “Okay, I’m just going to say it. I don’t want you going back in there. Just be quiet a minute, will you?” he said when he saw the retort forming. “I wish there was a way I could stop you from going, that there was a way I could ignore the fact that we all need to go. I know you’re a part of this, and I know you have to go back to the Pagan Stone. I know there’s going to be more you have to be a part of than I’d wish otherwise. But I can wish you weren’t part of this, Quinn, and that you were somewhere safe until this is over. I can want that, just as I know I can’t have what I want.
“If you want to be pissed off about that, you’ll have to be pissed off.”
She waited a beat. “Have you had lunch?”
“No. What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m going to make you a sandwich—an offer I never make lightly.”
“Why are you making it now?”
“Because I love you. Take off your coat. I love that you’d say all that to me,” she began as she opened the refrigerator for fixings. “That you’d need to let me know how you felt about it. Now if you’d tried ordering me to stay out of it, if you’d lied
or tried to do some sort of end-run around me, I’d feel different. I’d still love you, because that sort of thing sticks with me, but I’d be mad, and more, I’d be disappointed in you. As it is, Cal, I’m finding myself pretty damn pleased and a hell of a lot smug that my head and heart worked so well together and picked the perfect guy. The perfect guy for me.”
She cut the sandwich into two tidy triangles, offered it. “Do you want coffee or milk?”
“You don’t have milk, you have white water. Coffee’d be fine, thanks.” He took a bite of the turkey and Swiss with alfalfa on whole wheat. “Pretty good sandwich.”
“Don’t get used to the service.” She glanced over as she poured out coffee. “We should get an early start on Friday, don’t you think? Like dawn?”
“Yeah.” He touched her cheek with his free hand. “We’ll head in at first light.”
SINCE HE’D HAD GOOD LUCK WITH QUINN, AND gotten lunch out of it, Cal decided he was going to speak his mind to Gage next. The minute he and Lump stepped into the house, he smelled food. And when they wandered back, Cal found Gage in the kitchen, taking a pull off a beer as he stirred something in a pot.
“You made food.”
“Chili. I was hungry. Fox called. He tells me we’re taking the ladies for a hike Friday.”
“Yeah. First light.”
“Should be interesting.”
“Has to be done.” Cal dumped out food for Lump before getting a beer of his own. And so, he thought, did this have to be done. “I need to talk to you about your father.”
Cal saw Gage close off. Like a switch flipped, a finger snapped, his face simply blanked out. “He works for you; that’s your business. I’ve got nothing to say.”
“You’ve got every right to shut him out. I’m not saying different. I’m letting you know he asks about you. He wants to see you. Look, he’s been sober five years now, and if he’d been sober fifty it wouldn’t change the way he treated you. But this is a small town, Gage, and you can’t dodge him forever. My sense is he’s got things to say to you, and you may want to get it done, put it behind you. That’s it.”