The Sign of Seven Trilogy (99 page)

“We can't see past that edge,” Cal put in.

“Cybil and I have tried the link-up, but it's either a really crappy vision, or nothing. That interference, that static the bastard can jam things with. It's working overtime on blocking us.”

“Yeah, and Quinn's working overtime to find a way around the block. This paranormal stuff's her deal,” Cal said with a shrug. “Until then, we keep doing what we can do to protect ourselves, protect the town, and figure out how to use the weapons we have.”

“If we can't take it down . . .” Gage began.

Fox rolled his eyes. “Here goes our Pollyanna with a penis.”

“If we can't take it down,” Gage repeated, “if we know it's going south, is there a way to get the women clear? To get them out? I know you've both thought the same.”

Fox slumped back into a chair. “Yeah.”

“I've gone around with it,” Cal admitted. “Even if we could convince them, which I don't see happening, I don't see how they'd get out, not if we have to take this stand at the Pagan Stone.”

“I don't like it.” Fox's jaw tightened. “But that's where it has to be. The middle of Hawkins Wood, in the dark. I wish I didn't know in my gut that it has to be there, that they have to go in there with us. But I do know it. So we can't let it go south, that's all.”

 

IT HAD BEEN EASIER, GAGE ADMITTED, WHEN IT had just been the three of them. He loved his friends, and part of him would die if either of them did. But they'd been in it together since day one. Since minute one, he corrected, as he started downstairs.

It had been easier, too, when the women had first gotten involved. Before any of them really mattered to him. Easier before he'd seen the way Quinn meshed with Cal, or the way Fox lit up when Layla was in the room.

Easier before he'd let himself have feelings for Cybil, because, goddamn it, he had feelings. Messy, irritating, impossible feelings for Cybil. The kind of feelings that pushed him into having thoughts. Messy, irritating, impossible thoughts.

He didn't want a relationship. He sure as hell didn't want a long-term relationship. And by God, he didn't want a long-term relationship that involved plans and promises. He wanted to come and go as he pleased, and that's just what he did. Except for every seventh year. And so far, so good.

You didn't mess with a streak.

So the feelings and the thoughts would just have to find another sucker to . . . infect, he decided.

“Gage.”

He stopped, saw his father at the base of the steps. Perfect, Gage thought, just one more thing to give a shine to his day.

“I know I said I wouldn't get in your way when you came in to see Cal. And I won't.”

“You're standing in it now.”

Bill stepped back, rubbed his hands on the thighs of his work pants. “I just wanted to ask you—I didn't want to get in the way, so I wanted to ask you . . .”

“What?”

“Jim Hawkins tells me some of the towners are going to camp out at the O'Dell farm. I thought it might be I could help them out. Haul people and supplies out and such, do runs back and forth when needs be.”

In Gage's memory his father had spent every Seven skunk drunk upstairs in the apartment. “That'd be up to Brian and Joanne.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Why?” Gage demanded as Bill backed away. “Why don't you just get out?”

“It's my town, too. I never did anything to help before. I never paid much mind to it, or to what you were doing about it. But I knew. Nobody could get drunk enough not to know.”

“They could use help out at the farm.”

“Okay then. Gage.” Bill winced, rubbed his hands over his face. “I should tell you, I've been having dreams. Last few nights, I've been having them. It's like I wake up, but I'm asleep, but it's like I wake up 'cause I hear your ma out in the kitchen. She's right there, it's so real. She's at the stove cooking dinner. Pork chops, mashed potatoes, and those little peas I always liked, the way she made them. And she . . .”

“Keep going.”

“She talks to me, smiles over. She had some smile, my Cathy. She says: Hey there, Bill, supper's almost ready. I go on over, like I always did, put my arms around her while her hands are busy at the stove and kiss her neck till she laughs and wiggles away. I can smell her, in the dream, and I can taste . . .”

He yanked out his bandanna, mopped his eyes. “She tells me, like she always did, to cut that out now, unless I want my supper burned. Then, she says why don't you have a drink, Bill? Why don't you have a nice drink before supper? And there's a bottle on the counter there, and she pours the whiskey into the glass, holds it out to me. She never did that, your ma never did that in her life. And she never looked at me the way she does in the dreams. With her eyes hard and mean. I gotta sit down here a minute.”

Bill lowered to the steps, wiped at the sweat that pearled on his forehead. “I wake up, covered in sweat, and I can smell the whiskey she held out to me. Not Cathy, not anymore, just the whiskey. Last night, when I woke up from it, I went on out in the kitchen to get something cold 'cause my throat was so dry. There was a bottle on the counter. It was right there. I swear to Christ, it was there. I didn't buy a bottle.” His hands shook now, and fresh sweat popped out above his top lip. “I started to pick it up, to pour it down the sink. I pray to God I was going to pour it down the sink, but there was nothing there. I think I'm going crazy. I know I'll go crazy if I pick up a bottle again and do anything but pour it down the sink.”

“You're not going crazy.” Another kind of torture, Gage thought. The bastard didn't miss a trick. “Have you ever had dreams like this before?”

“Maybe, a few times over the years. It's hard to say because I wasn't picking up bottles to pour them down the sink back then.” Bill sighed now. “But maybe a few times, around this time of year. Around the time Jim says you boys call the Seven.”

“It fucks with us. It's fucking with you. Go on out to the farm, give them a hand out there.”

“I can do that.” Bill pushed back to his feet. “Whatever it is, it's got no right using your ma that way.”

“No, it doesn't.”

When Bill started to walk away, Gage cursed under his breath. “Wait. I can't forget, and I don't know if I can ever forgive. But I know you loved her. I know that's the truth, so I'm sorry you lost her.”

Something came into Bill's eyes, something Gage reluctantly recognized as gratitude.

“You lost her, too. I never let myself think that, not all those years. You lost her, too, and me with her. I'll carry that the rest of my life. But I won't drink today.”

Gage went straight to the rental house. He walked in, and right up the stairs. As he reached the top, Quinn stepped out of her bedroom draped in a towel.

“Oh. Well. Hi, Gage.”

“Where's Cybil?”

Quinn hitched the towel a little higher. “Probably in the shower or getting dressed. We hit the gym. I was just going to . . . never mind.”

He studied her face. Her cheeks seemed a little flushed, her eyes a little overbright. “Something wrong?”

“Wrong? No. Everything's good. Great. Thumbs-up. I, ah, better get dressed.”

“Pack, too.”

“What?”

“Pack up what you need,” he told her as she stood frowning and dripping. “Seeing as you're three women, it's going to take more than one trip. Cal and Fox can come by at some point and haul more. There's no point in the three of you staying here—and by the way, do any of you ever
think
about locking the door? It's getting dangerous in town. Everyone can bunk at Cal's until this is over.”

“You're making that decision for everyone involved?” Cybil asked from behind him.

He turned. She was dressed and leaning against the jamb. “Yeah.”

“That's fairly presumptuous, to put it mildly. But I happen to agree with you.” She looked over at Quinn. “It's just not practical to have three bases—here, Cal's, Fox's—anymore. We'd be better to consolidate. Even assuming this house is a cold spot, and safe, we're too spread out.”

“Who's arguing?” Quinn adjusted her towel again. “Layla's at the boutique with Fox's dad, but Cyb and I can put some of her things together.”

Cybil continued to look at Quinn. “It might be helpful if you went by there now, Gage, let her know. It's going to take a little time for us to pack up the research equipment anyway. Then you could borrow Cal's truck, and we could take the first load.”

He knew when he was getting the brush-off. Cybil wanted him gone, for now. “Get it together then. And once we're at Cal's, you and I have to try the link-up again.”

“Yes, we do.”

“I'll be back in twenty, so get a move on.”

Cybil ignored him. She stood in her doorway and Quinn in hers, watching each other until they heard the front door close behind him.

“What's up, Q?”

“I'm pregnant. Holy shit, Cyb, I'm pregnant.” Tears flooded her eyes even as she moved her feet and hips into what could only be interpreted as a happy dance. “I'm knocked up, I'm on the nest, I am with child and have a bun in the oven. Holy shit.”

Cybil crossed the hallway, held out her arms. They stood holding each other. “I didn't expect to be expecting. I mean, we weren't trying for it. All this going on, and planning the wedding. After, we both figured.”

“How far along?”

“That's just it.” Drawing back, Quinn used the towel to dry her face, then turned naked to dig out clothes. “I'm not even late, but the last few days, I've just felt sort of . . . different. And I had this feeling. I thought,
ppfftt
, no, but I couldn't shake the feeling. So I bought a—okay five—I bought five early response pregnancy tests because I went a little crazy. At the pharmacy in the next town,” she said, laughing now, “because, you know—small towns.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I only took three—came down from crazy to obsessed. I just took them. Three of them. Pink, plus sign, and the no-frills pregnant all came up. I'm probably only a couple of weeks in, if that, but . . .” She looked down at her belly. “Wow, somebody's in there.”

“You haven't told Cal.”

“I didn't want to say before I knew. He'll be happy, but he'll be worried, too.” She pulled on capris. “Worried because of what's coming, what we have to do, and I'm, well, in the family way.”

“How do you feel, about that part of it?”

“Scared, protective. And I know nothing will ever be right for us, any of us, or for this baby if we don't end it. If we don't follow through, and I'm part of that follow-through. I guess I have to believe that this—” Quinn laid a hand on her belly. “This is a sign of hope.”

“I love you, Q.”

“Oh God, Cyb.” Once more, Quinn went into Cybil's arms. “I'm so glad you were here. I know Cal should've been the first I told, but—”

“He'll understand. He has brothers.” Gently, Cybil smoothed Quinn's damp hair back. “We're going to get through this, Q, and you and Cal? You're going to be amazing parents.”

“We are. Both counts.” Quinn let out a breath. “Whew. You know, maybe I'll go all hormonal on the Big Evil Bastard. That might do it.”

Cybil laughed. “It just might.”

 

WHEN GAGE RETURNED, THEY LOADED CAL'S truck. “I'm going to need my car,” Quinn said, “so I'll toss some stuff in there, and I'll pick up Layla. I need to go see Cal first.” She glanced at Cybil. “So I might be a while.”

“Take your time. We'll unpack this load, get things organized. Well . . . See you later.” Quinn gave Cybil a hard squeeze then puzzled Gage by giving him the same. “Bye.”

Gage got in the truck, started the engine. Then sat, drumming his fingers on the wheel while it ran. “What's up with Quinn?”

“Quinn's fine.”

“She seems a little nervy.”

“We're all a little nervy, which is why I agree with you about all of us staying at the same place now.”

“Not that kind of nervy.” He turned in his seat, met her eyes. “Is she pregnant?”

“Well, aren't you the insightful one? Yes, she is, and I'm only confirming that because she's going to tell Cal right now.”

He sat, rubbed his hands over his face. “Christ.”

“You can look at it as the glass is half empty, as you obviously are. Or that it's half full. Personally, I see the glass as overflowing. This is good, strong, positive news, Gage.”

“Maybe for normal people under normal circumstances. But try to look at this from Cal's angle. Would you want the woman you love, who's carrying your child, risking her life, the life of the kid? Or would you wish her a hundred miles away from this?”

“I'd wish her a thousand miles away. Do you think I can't understand how he'll feel? I love her, enormously. But I know she can't be a thousand miles away. So I'm going to look at this, as Quinn is, as a sign of hope. We knew this was coming—or the possibility of this, Gage. We saw it. We saw her and Cal together, alive and together, with Quinn pregnant. I'm going to believe that's what will be. I have to.”

“We also saw her killed.”

“Please don't.” Cybil closed her eyes as her belly twisted. “I know we have to prepare for the worst, but please don't. Not today.”

He pulled away from the curb, let her have silence for the next several minutes. “Fox is going to close his office in a couple days anyway. If Layla wants to keep on with the rehab—”