The Hollow (29 page)

“If I'd made different choices.”

“You might have changed it,” she agreed. “Or it all would have taken a different route to the same end. How can you know? I'm not Carly, Fox. And like it or not, we share what's happening in the Hollow. They aren't all your choices now.”

“I've seen too much death, Layla. Too much blood and pain. I know more's coming, and I know we'll all do whatever we can, whatever we have to do. But I don't know if I can survive if I lose you.”

It was his sadness that lay on her heart now. The unbearable weight of his sorrow. “We'll find a way. You've always believed that. You've made me believe it. Come on. You're going upstairs to lie down. No arguments.”

She cajoled, bullied, and nagged him upstairs. By the time she got him into bed, he was too exhausted to argue, or make suggestive jokes when she undressed him and tucked him in. When she was sure he was asleep, she ran down to close the office, then back up again to call Cal and ask him to come.

Layla put her finger to her lips when he came in the back way. “He's sleeping. He had a rough night, and a rough day. A nightmare,” she added, gesturing him into the kitchen. “One that blurred me and Carly together.”

“Oh. Shit.”

She poured coffee without asking if he wanted it. “He told me about her, not without considerable struggle, and considerable pain. He's worn out now.”

“Better he told you though. Fox doesn't do well holding stuff in.” He started to drink, lowered the mug and frowned. “How did coffee get in here?”

“He bought me a coffeemaker.”

Cal let out a half laugh. “He'll be all right, Layla. It hits him sometimes. Not often, but when it does, it hits hard.”

“He blames himself, and that's stupid,” she said so briskly, Cal lifted his brows. “But he loved her so he can't do anything else. He told me as soon as he knew she'd left the farm, he tried to find her. You were burned getting people out of a house—kids out—some guy was shooting up the town, that son of a bitch Napper came at him with a baseball bat, and he's sick because he couldn't stop her from jumping.”

“Here's what he probably didn't tell you, stop me if I'm wrong. He was burned, too, not as bad as I was, that time, but bad enough. When the call came through, he took off ahead of me and Gage. On the way he kicked Proctor— that was the guy with the shotgun—square in the nuts, tossed Gage the gun, and kept going. He punched out one of two boys tearing into a woman on the sidewalk. I got the other one, but it slowed me down. And there was Napper. He got a good swing in with that bat. Broke Fox's arm.”

“My God.”

“Gage went in like a battering ram, and Fox took off again. It took both of us to take Napper out. Fox was already running up the stairs when we got inside the old library. And it was hell in there. We were too late, too. She was jumping, hell, she was diving off that ledge when we ran out on the roof. I thought he was going to go over after her. He was bloody from fights, from being rammed by books that flew around like missiles, and God knew what else. There was nothing he could do. He knows it. But once in a while it takes ahold of him and gives him a good, hard squeeze.”

“If she'd believed him, believed in him and done what he asked—what she promised him—she'd be alive.”

Cal kept his calm gray eyes even with hers. “That's right. Exactly right.”

“But he won't blame her.”

“It's harder to blame the dead.”

“Not for me, not at the moment. If she'd loved him enough, believed in him enough to keep her promise— only that, to keep her promise—he wouldn't have had to risk his life to try to save her. I didn't say that to him, and I'm going to try very hard not to. But I feel better now that I've said it out loud.”

“I've said it out loud, and to his face. I felt better, too, but it didn't seem to do the same for him.”

Layla nodded. “There's something else. Why Carly? She wasn't part of the town, but she was infected, apparently, in minutes. So strongly that she committed suicide.”

“It's happened before. It's mostly people who live in the Hollow, but outsiders can get caught up.”

“I bet most of them get caught up as victims of someone who's infected. But here she is, the woman one of you loves, and she's
caught up
immediately. I wonder about that, Cal, and I wonder how it was he heard her calling, that she was able to call him, that she was able to wait until he ran out on the roof so he had to watch her jump.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I'm not sure. But it might be worthwhile to have Cybil do a search on her, a genealogy. What if she's connected? What if Carly was on one of our twisted family trees?”

“And Fox just happened to fall in love with her?”

“That's the point. I don't think any of this just happened. Cal, have you ever been in love—really in love— with anyone before Quinn?”

“No.” He answered without hesitation, then took another contemplative sip of coffee. “I can tell you Gage hasn't either.”

“It uses emotions,” she pointed out. “What better way to cause pain than to use love against one of you? To twist it like a knife in the heart? I don't think she was just infected, Cal. I think she was chosen.”

Fifteen

THAT NIGHT, THEY READ, AND FOR THE FIRST time in many pages, the first in the many months that had passed for Ann, she wrote of Giles and Twisse.

“It confirms a lot of what we knew,” Cal said when Quinn closed the book. “Adds more questions. It can't be a coincidence that Ann gave birth as Dent confronted Twisse.”

“The power of life. Innocent life.” Cybil ticked points off on her fingers. “Mystical life. Pain and blood—Ann's, Dent's, the demon's—the people Twisse brought with him. Interesting, too, that Twisse came to the house where Ann was hidden, and got nothing. Even then, he couldn't infect the people in that house, or on that land.”

“Dent would have made sure of it, wouldn't he?” Layla suggested. “He wouldn't have sent Ann away without knowing she was safe. Ann, and their sons.” She glanced at Fox. “And those who came after.”

“She knew what was coming.” As he had no taste for beer or wine, even Coke, Fox drank water. “She knew anyone there when Dent made his move was dead. Sacrificed.”

“Who gets the blame?” Gage demanded. “They wouldn't have been there if Twisse hadn't brought them. And if Dent hadn't made his move, they'd have torched him.”

“They were still human, still innocent. But,” Cybil continued before he could argue. “I agree with you, for the most part. We can add that if Giles had done nothing, or whatever he'd done hadn't worked, the infection would only have grown until they ended up killing each other and feeding the beast. Ann accepted that. Apparently, I do, too.”

“She mentioned the bloodstone.” Quinn picked up her neglected wine. “Three into one, one into three, all that's easy enough to get. Three pieces of the stone, to each of you. The trick is making one again out of three.”

“Blood.” Cybil scanned the faces of the three men. “He told her blood. Have you tried using your blood? Your mixed blood?”

“We're not stupid.” Gage slumped in his chair. “We've tried that more than once.”

“We haven't.” Layla raised her shoulders. “Its, ours, theirs. We—Quinn, Cybil, and I—have its blood. Fox, Cal, Gage, that's the ‘our blood' portion. It seems if you add them all, you get the theirs.”

“Logical, smart, a little disgusting,” Quinn decided. “Let's try it.”

“Not tonight.” Cybil waved Quinn back to her chair. “You don't just jump into bloodletting. Even at ten, these three knew such things required ritual. Let me do a little research. If I'm going to bleed, I don't want to waste it—or worse, call up the wrong side.”

“Good point.” Quinn settled back. “Pretty good point. But Jesus, it's hard not to just
do
something. It's been five days since the Big Evil Bastard has come out to play.”

“Not so long,” Gage said dryly, “when you've done a couple seven-year waits.”

“It used a lot of juice—the fire at the farm, infecting Block.” Cal glanced toward the front window, and the dark beyond it. “So it's juicing back up. The longer it takes, the harder it's going to come back at us.”

“On that happy note, I'm heading out.” Gage pushed to his feet. “Somebody let me know when I need to slash my wrist again.”

“I'll send you a memo.” Cybil rose as well. “Research time. I'll see all you handsome men at the O'Dells' tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it,” she added, and gave Fox a brush on the shoulder as she passed.

“Cal, I need you to look at the toaster.”

Cal's brows drew together as he glanced at Quinn. “The toaster? Why?”

“There's this thing.” She wondered how an intelligent man could be so dense. Didn't he see it was time to clear the room and give Layla and Fox a minute alone? She grabbed his hand, tugged, rolled her eyes. “Come take a look at the thing.”

“I guess I'd better get going, too,” Fox said when they were alone.

“Why don't you stay? We don't have to . . . We can just sleep.”

“Do I look that bad?”

“You look a little tired yet.”

“Too much sleep does that, too.”

And sad, she thought. Even when he smiled, she could see the shadow in his eyes. “We could go out. I know this nice little bar across the river.”