The Sign of Seven Trilogy (30 page)

Saying nothing, he held out a hand. She took it, rose to her feet. Together, they stared at that still, brown surface.

The water began to beat and froth. It began to spin, to spew up white-tipped waves. It roared like a sea mating with a wild and vicious storm.

And a hand shot out to claw at the ground.

Hester pulled herself out of that churning water—bone white skin, a mass of wet, tangled hair, dark, glassy eyes. The effort, or her madness, peeled her lips back from her teeth.

Cybil heard herself scream as Hester Deale's arms opened, as they locked around her and dragged her toward that swirling brown pool.

“Cyb! Cyb! Cybil!”

She came back struggling, and found herself locked not in Hester's arms, but Gage's. “What the hell was that?”

“You were going in.”

She stayed where she was, feeling her heart hammer against his as Quinn gripped her shoulder. Cybil took another look at the still surface of the pool. “That would've been really unpleasant.”

She was trembling, one hard jolt after the next, but Gage had to give her points for keeping her voice even.

“Did you get anything?” she asked him.

“Water kicked up; she came up. You started to tip.”

“She grabbed me. She…embraced me. That's what I think, but I wasn't focused enough to feel or sense what she felt. Maybe if we tried it again—”

“We've got to get moving now,” Cal interrupted.

“It only took a minute.”

“Try nearly fifteen,” Fox corrected.

“But…” Cybil eased back from Gage when she realized she was still in his arms. “Did it seem that long to you?”

“No. It was immediate.”

“It wasn't.” Layla held out another thermos lid of coffee. “We were arguing about whether we should pull you back, and how we should if we did. Quinn said to leave you be for another few minutes, that sometimes it took you a while to warm up.”

“Well, it felt like a minute, no more than, for the whole deal. And it didn't feel like something from before.” Again, Cybil looked at Gage.

“No, it didn't. So if I were you, I wouldn't think about taking a dip anytime soon.”

“I prefer a nice blue pool, with a swim-up bar.”

“Bikini margaritas.” Quinn rubbed her hand up and down Cybil's arm.

“Spring break, two thousand.” Cybil caught Quinn's hand, squeezed. “I'm fine, Q.”

“I'll buy the first round of those margaritas when this is done. Ready to move on?” Cal asked.

He hitched up his pack, turned. Then shook his head. “This isn't right.”

“We're leaving the haunted pool to walk through the demonic woods.” Quinn worked up a smile. “What could be wrong?”

“That's not the path.” He gestured toward the thawing track. “That's not the direction.” He squinted up at the sun as he pulled his old Boy Scout compass out of his pocket.

“Ever thought about upgrading to a GPS?” Gage asked him.

“This does the job. See, we need to head west from here. That trail's leading north. That trail shouldn't even be there.”

“It's not there.” Fox's eyes narrowed, darkened. “There's no trail, just underbrush, a thicket of wild blackberries. It's not real.” He shifted, angled himself. “It's that way.” He gestured west. “It's hard to see, it's like looking through mud, but…”

Layla stepped forward, took his hand.

“Okay, yeah. That's better.”

“You're pointing at a really big-ass tree,” Cybil told him.

“That isn't there.” Still holding Layla's hand, Fox walked forward. The image of the large oak broke apart as he walked through it.

“Nice trick.” Quinn let out a breath. “So, Twisse doesn't want us to go to the clearing. I'll take point.”

“I'll take point.” Cal took her arm to tug her behind him. “I've got the compass.” He had only to glance back at his friends to have them falling in line. Fox taking center, Gage the rear with the women between.

As soon as the track widened enough to allow it, Quinn moved up beside Cal. “This is the way it has to work.” She glanced back to see the other women had followed her lead, and now walked abreast with their partners. “We're linked up this way, Cal. Two-by-two, trios, the group of six. Whatever the reasons are, that's the way it is.”

“We're walking into something. I can't see what it is, but I'm walking you and the others right into it.”

“We're all on our own two feet, Cal.” She passed him the bottle of water she carried in her coat pocket. “I don't know if I love you because you're Mr. Responsibility or in spite of it.”

“As long as you do. And since you do, maybe we should think about the idea of getting married.”

“I like the idea,” she said after a moment. “If you want my thoughts on it.”

“I do.” Stupid, he thought, stupid way to propose, and a ridiculous place for it, too. Then again, when they couldn't be sure what was around the bend, it made sense to grab what you did now, tight and quick. “As it happens, I agree with you. More thoughts on the idea would be that my mother, especially, will want the splash—big deal, big party, bells and whistles.”

“I happen to agree with that, too. How is she with communication by phone and/or e-mail?”

“She's all about that.”

“Great. I'll hook her up with my mother and they can go for it. How's your September schedule?”

“September?”

She studied the winter woods, watched a squirrel scamper up a tree and across a thick branch. “I bet the Hollow's beautiful in September. Still green, but with just a hint of the color to come.”

“I was thinking sooner. Like April, or May.” Before, Cal thought. Before July, and what might be the end of everything he knew and loved.

“It takes a while to organize those bells and whistles.” When she looked at him he understood she read him clearly. “After, Cal, after we've won. One more thing to celebrate. When we're—”

She broke off when he touched a finger to her lips.

The sound came clearly now as all movement and conversation stopped. The wet and throaty snarl rolled across the air, and shot cold down the spine. Lump curled down on his haunches and whined.

“He hears it, too, this time.” Cal shifted, and though the movement was slight, it put Quinn between him and Fox.

“I don't guess we could be lucky, and that's just a bear.” Layla cleared her throat. “Either way, I think we should keep moving. Whatever it is doesn't want us to, so…”

“We're here to flip it the bird,” Fox finished.

“Come on, Lump, come on with me.”

The dog shivered at Cal's command, but rose, and with its side pressed to Cal's legs, walked down the trail toward the Pagan Stone.

The wolf—Cal would never have referred to the thing as a dog—stood at the mouth of the clearing. It was huge and black, with eyes that were somehow human. Lump tried a halfhearted snarl in answer to the low, warning growl, then cowered against Cal.

“Are we going to walk through that, too?” Gage asked from the rear.

“It's not like the false trail.” Fox shook his head. “It's not real, but it's there.”

“Okay.” Gage started to pull off his pack.

And the thing leaped.

It seemed to fly, Cal thought, a mass of muscle and teeth. He fisted his hands to defend, but there was nothing to fight.

“I felt…” Slowly, Quinn lowered the arms she'd thrown up to protect her face.

“Yeah. Not just the cold, not that time.” Cal gripped her arm to keep her close. “There was weight, just for a second, and there was substance.”

“We never had that before, not even during the Seven.” Fox scanned the woods on both sides. “Whatever form Twisse took, whatever we saw, it wasn't really
there
. It's always been mind games.”

“If it can solidify, it can hurt us directly,” Layla pointed out.

“And be hurt.” From behind her Gage pulled a 9mm Glock out of his pack.

“Good thinking,” was Cybil's cool opinion.

“Jesus Christ, Gage, where the hell did you get that?”

Gage lifted his eyebrows at Fox. “Guy I know down in D.C. Are we going to stand here in a huddle, or are we going in?”

“Don't point that at anybody,” Fox demanded.

“Safety's on.”

“That's what they always say before they accidentally blow a hole in the best friend.”

They stepped into the clearing, and the stone.

“My God, it's beautiful.” Cybil breathed the words reverently as she moved toward it. “It can't possibly be a natural formation, it's too perfect. It's designed, and for worship, I'd think. And it's warm. Feel it. The stone's warm.” She circled it. “Anyone with any sensitivity has to feel, has to know this is sacred ground.”

“Sacred to who?” Gage countered. “Because what came up out of here twenty-one years ago wasn't all bright and friendly.”

“It wasn't all dark either. We felt both.” Cal looked at Fox. “We saw both.”

“Yeah. It's just the big, black scary mass got most of our attention while we were being blasted off our feet.”

“But the other gave us most of his, that's what I think. I walked out of here not only without a scratch, but with twenty-twenty vision and a hell of an immune system.”

“The scratches on my arms had healed up, and the bruises from my most recent tussle with Napper.” Fox shrugged. “Never been sick a day since.”

“How about you?” Cybil asked Gage. “Any miraculous healing?”

“None of us had a mark on him after the blast,” Cal began.

“It's no deal, Cal. No secrets from the team. My old man used his belt on me the night before we were heading in here. A habit of his when he'd get a drunk on. I was carrying the welts when I came in, but not when I walked out.”

“I see.” Cybil held Gage's eyes for several beats. “The fact that you were given protection, and your specific abilities, enabled you to defend your ground, so to speak. Otherwise, you'd have been three helpless little boys.”

“It's clean.” Layla's comment had everyone turning to where she stood by the stone. “That's what comes to my mind. I don't think it was ever used for sacrifice. Not blood and death, not for the dark. It feels clean.”

“I've seen the blood on it,” Gage said. “I've seen it burn. I've heard the screams.”

“That's not its purpose. Maybe that's what Twisse wants.” Quinn laid her palm on the stone. “To defile it, to twist its power. If he can, well, he'll own it, won't he? Cal?”

“Okay.” His hand hovered over hers. “Ready?” At her nod, he joined his hand to hers on the stone.

At first there was only her, only Quinn. Only the courage in her eyes. Then the world tumbled back, five years, twenty, so that he saw the boy he'd been with his friends, scoring his knife over their wrists to bind them together. Then rushing back, decades, centuries, to the blaze and the screams while the stone stood cool and white in the midst of hell.

Back to another waning winter where Giles Dent stood with Ann Hawkins as he stood with Quinn now. Dent's words came from his lips.

“We have only until summer. This I cannot change, even for you. Duty outstrips even my love for you, and for the lives we have made.” He touched a hand to her belly. “I wish, above all, that I could be with you when they come into the world.”

“Let me stay. Beloved.”

“I am the guardian. You are the hope. I cannot destroy the beast, only chain it for a time. Still, I do not leave you. It is not death, but an endless struggle, a war only I can wage. Until what comes from us makes the end. They will have all I can give, this I swear to you. If they are victorious in their time, I will be with you again.”

“What will I tell them of their father?”

“That he loved their mother, and them, with the whole of his heart.”

“Giles, it has a man's form. A man can bleed, a man can die.”

“It is not a man, and it is not in my power to destroy it. That will be for those who come after us both. It, too, will make its own. Not through love. They will not be what it intends. It cannot own them if they are beyond its reach, even its ken. This is for me to do. I am not the first, Ann, only the last. What comes from us is the future.”

She pressed a hand to her side. “They quicken,” she whispered. “When, Giles, when will it end? All the lives we have lived before, all the joy and the pain we have known? When will there be peace for us?”

“Be my heart.” He lifted her hands to his lips. “I will be your courage. And we will find each other once more.”

Tears slid down Quinn's cheeks even as she felt the images fade. “We're all they have. If we don't find the way, they're lost to each other. I felt her heart breaking inside me.”

“He believed in what he'd done, what he had to do. He believed in us, though he couldn't see it clearly. I don't think he could see us, all of us,” Cal said as he looked around. “Not clearly. He took it on faith.”

“Fine for him.” Gage shifted his weight. “But I put a little more of mine in this Glock.”

It wasn't the wolf, but the boy that stood on the edge of the clearing. Grinning, grinning. He lifted his hands, showed fingernails that were sharpened to claws.

The sun dimmed from midday to twilight; the air from cool to frigid. And thunder rumbled in the late winter sky.

In a lightning move so unexpected Cal couldn't prevent it, Lump sprang. The thing who masked as a boy squealed with laughter, shinnied up a tree like a monkey.

But Cal had seen it, in a flash of an instant. He'd seen the shock, and what might have been fear.

“Shoot it,” Cal shouted to Gage, even as he dashed forward to grab Lump's collar. “Shoot the son of a bitch.”

“Jesus, you don't actually think a bullet's going to—”