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Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
ONCE AGAIN, GAGE CALLED FOR A MEETING AT Cal's office. Just his brothers. He'd made certain he'd been up and out of the house that morning before Cybil so much as stirred. He'd needed time to think, time alone, just as he needed time now with his two friends.
He laid out what he'd learned from Linz in calm and dispassionate terms.
"Screw that," was Fox's opinion. "Screw that, Gage. "
"It's how it ends. "
"Because some demon academic we don't know, who's never been here, never dealt with what we've dealt with says so?"
"Because it's how it ends," Gage repeated. "Everything we know, everything we've found out, everything we've dealt with leads right up to it. "
"I'm going to have to go with the lawyer's technical terminology on this," Cal said after a moment. "Screw that. "
Gage's eyes were green and clear; he'd made his peace with what had to be. "I appreciate the sentiment, but we all know better. None of us should have made it this far. The only reason we have is because Dent broke the rules, gave us abilities, gave us a power source. Time to pay up. Don't say 'why you. '" Gage tapped a finger in the air at Fox. "It's all over your face, and we've been over that part. It's my turn, and it's my goddamn destiny. It stops this time. This is when and how. Upside is I'm not going to have to haul my ass back here every seven years to save you guys. "
"Screw that, too," Fox said, but without heat as he pushed to his feet. "There's going to be another way. You're looking at this in a straight line. You're not checking out the angles. "
"Brother, angles are my business. It's either destroyed this time, or it becomes. Fully corporeal, fully in possession of all its former power. We've already seen that begin to happen. "
Absently, Gage rubbed his shoulder where the scar rode. "I've got a souvenir. To destroy it, absolutely take it out, requires a life from our side. Blood sacrifice, to pay the price, to balance the scales. One light for the dark, and blah blah blah. I'm going to do this thing one way or the other. It'd be a hell of a lot easier if I had you behind me. "
"We're not just going to sit back and watch you take one for the team," Cal told him. "We keep looking for another way. "
"And if we don't find one? No bullshit, Cal," Gage added. "We've been through too much to bullshit each other. "
"If we can't, can I have your car?"
Gage glanced over at Fox and felt the weight drop off his shoulders. They'd do what needed to be done. They'd stand behind him, just like always. "The way you drive? Hell no. Cybil gets it. That woman knows how to handle a car. I need you to lawyer up that kind of thing for me. I'd have that off my head. "
"Okay, no problem. " He shrugged off Cal 's curse. "And my fee's a bet. One thousand says we not only off the Big Evil Bastard, but you walk away from the Pagan Stone with the rest of us after we do. "
"I want in on that," Cal said.
"That's a bet then. "
Cal shook his head, absently rubbed Lump under his desk as the dog stirred from sleep. "Only a sick son of a bitch bets a thousand he's going to die. "
Gage only smiled. "Dead or alive, I like to win. "
"We need to take this back to the women," Fox put in, then narrowed his eyes at Gage. "Problem?"
"Depends. If we take it back to the women-"
"There's no if," Cal interrupted. "There are six of us in this. "
"When we take it back to the women," Gage qualified, "the three of us go in as a unified front. I'm not going to be arguing with you and them. The deal is, we look for another way until time runs out. When time runs out and there's no other way, it's my way. Nobody welshes. "
Cal rose, preparing to come around the desk to shake on the deal. The office door burst open. Cy Hudson, one of the fixtures of the Bowl-a-Rama's leagues, rushed in, teeth bared, and madly firing a. 38. One of the bullets plowed into Cal 's sternum, took him down even as Gage and Fox dove at Cy.
His enormous bulk didn't topple, and his sheer madness flung them off like flies. He aimed at Cal again, shifted the gun at the last moment as Gage shouted, and Lump bunched to attack. Gage braced for the bullet, caught Fox rising up like a runner off the mark out of the corner of his eye.
Bill Turner came through the door like fury. He leaped onto Cy's back, fists pounding even as Fox went in low and the dog sprang, jaw snapping. The four of them went down in a bone-breaking tangle. The gun went off again even as Gage shoved up and grabbed a chair. He brought it down, brutally, twice on Cy's exposed head.
"Okay?" he said to Fox as Cy went limp.
"Yeah, yeah. Hey, boy, good dog. " Fox hooked an arm around Lump's big neck. " Cal?"
Pushing up again, Gage dropped down beside Cal. Cal's face was bone white, his eyes glassy, and his breath came in short pants. But when Gage ripped his shirt open, he saw the spent bullet pushing up through the wound. Sidling over, Lump licked Cal 's face and whined.
"It's okay, you're okay. You're pushing it out. " He gripped Cal 's hand, sent him all he could. "Give me something. "
"Smashed a rib, I think," Cal managed. "Ripped hell out of me in there. " He struggled to even his breathing as Lump nosed his shoulder. "I can't exactly tell. "
"We've got it. Fox, for Christ's sake, give me a hand. "
"Gage. "
"What! Can't you see he's. . . " Furious, Gage whipped his head around. He saw Fox kneeling on the floor pressing the blood-soaked wad of his own shirt to Bill's chest.
"Call for an ambulance. I've got to keep the pressure on. "
"Go. God. " Cal pushed breath out, drew more in. He fisted his hand in Lump's fur. "I've got this. I've got this. Go. "
But Gage kept Cal 's hand tight in his, drew out his phone. And with his eyes locked on his father's pale face, called for help.
CYBIL WOKE GROGGY, HEADACHY. THE GROGGY wasn't much of a surprise. Mornings weren't her finest hour, particularly after a restless night, and the dreams were a plague now. More, Gage had been closed in the night before. Barely speaking, she thought, as she grabbed a robe in case there were men in the house.
Well, his moods weren't her responsibility, she decided, and felt fairly closed in herself. She'd take her coffee out on the back deck-alone. And sulk.
The idea perked her up a little, or would have if she hadn't found both Layla and Quinn holding a whispered conference in the kitchen.
"Go away. Nobody talk to me until I've had two solid hits of caffeine. "
"Sorry. " Quinn blocked her path to the stove. "You'll have to put that off. "
Warning flashed into her eyes. "Nobody tells me to put off my morning coffee. Move it or lose it, Q. "
"No coffee until after this. " She picked the pregnancy test off the counter, waved it in front of Cybil's face. "Your turn, Cyb. "
"My turn for what. Move!"
"To pee on a stick. "
Cybil's jones for coffee tripped over sheer shock. "What? Are you crazy? Just because sperm met egg for the two of you doesn't mean-"
"Isn't it funny I have this on hand just like I had one for Layla. "
"Ha ha. "
"And it's interesting," Layla continued, "how you pointed out yesterday the three of us are on the same cycle. "
"I'm not pregnant. "
Layla looked at Quinn. "Isn't that what I said?"
Nearly desperate for coffee, Cybil rolled her eyes. "I saw you pregnant. Both of you. I didn't see me that way. "
"It's always harder to see ourselves," Quinn returned. "You've told me that a few times. Let's make it simple. You want coffee? Go pee on a stick. You won't get past both of us to the goal, Cyb. "
Fuming, Cybil snatched the box. "Pregnancy's made both of you bossy and bitchy. " She stalked off to the first-floor powder room.
"It has to mean something. " Layla rubbed her hands over her arms, ridiculously nervous. "If we're right, or if we're wrong, it has to mean something. I
just wish I could figure out what. "
"I've got some ideas, but. . . " Worried, Quinn paced to the kitchen doorway. "We'll think about that later. After. And either way, we have to be with her on this. "
"Well, of course. Why wouldn't. . . Oh. You mean if she is, and she doesn't want to be. " With a nod, Layla stepped up so she stood beside Quinn. "No question about it. Whatever it is, whatever she needs. "
They waited a few more minutes, then Quinn dragged both hands through her hair. "That's it. I can't stand it. "
She marched to the door, knocked for form, then pushed the door open. "Cyb, how long does-Oh, Cybil. " She knelt down immediately to gather Cybil up as her friend sat on the floor.
"What am I going to do?" Cybil managed. "What am I going to do?"
"Get off the floor to start. " Briskly, Layla leaned down to help her up. "I'm going to make you some tea. We'll figure this out. "
"I'm so stupid. So stupid. " Cybil pressed her hands to her eyes as Quinn led her to the kitchen and a chair. "I should've seen it coming. All three of us. It's a perfect goddamn fit. It was right there in front of my face. "
"It didn't click for me," Quinn told her. "The possibility of it didn't click in for me until the middle of the night. It's going to be all right, Cybil. Whatever you want or need, whatever you decide, Layla and I are going to be right there to make sure it's all right. "
"It's not the same for me as it is for the two of you. Gage and I. . . We don't have any plans. We're not. . . " She managed a weak smile. "Linked the way you are with Cal and Fox. "
"You're in love with him. "
"Yes, I am. " Cybil looked into Quinn's eyes. "But that doesn't mean we're together. He's not looking for-"
"Forget what he's looking for. " Layla's voice was so sharp, Cybil blinked. "What are you looking for?"
"Well, it certainly wasn't this. I was looking to finish what we started here, and to have some time with him outside of this. If I looked further than that, and I'm not so strong and coolheaded that I didn't look further and hope that we might make something together. And not so wide-eyed and optimistic that I expect to. "
"You know you don't have to decide right away. " Quinn stroked Cybil's hair. "This is between the three of us, and we'll keep it that way as long as you want. "
"You know we can't do that," Cybil replied. "There's a purpose in this, and that purpose might be the difference between life and death. "
"Gods, demons, Fate-," Layla snapped. "None of them have a right to make this choice for you. "
When Layla set the tea on the table, Cybil took her hand, squeezed fiercely. "Thanks. God. Thanks. The three of us, the three of them. Ann Hawkins had three sons and they were her hope, her faith, her courage. Now there are three more-the possibilities of three more inside us. There's a symmetry there that can't be ignored. In many cultures, in much lore, the pregnant woman holds particular power. We'll use that power. "
She took a deep breath, reached for the tea. "I could, when it's finished, choose to end this possibility. My choice, and yes, screw gods and demons. My choice. And I don't choose to end this possibility. I'm not a child, and I'm not without resources. I love the father. Whatever happens between Gage and me, I absolutely believe this was meant. "
She took another breath. "I know this is the right thing for me. And I know I'm officially scared to death. "
"We'll all be going through it together. " Quinn took Cybil's hand, took a good, strong hold. "That's going to help. "
"Yes, it is. Don't say anything yet. I need to work out the best way to tell Gage. The best time, the best method. Meanwhile, the three of us need to try to figure out how we can use this surprising bout of mutual fertility. I can contact-"
"Hold that thought," Quinn said when the phone rang. After glancing at the display, she smiled. "Hello, lover. You-" The smile dropped away, and so did her color. "We're coming. I-" She shot alarmed glances at Cybil and Layla. "All right. Yes, all right. How bad? We'll meet you there. "
She hung up. "Bill Turner-Gage's father-he's been shot. "
THEY'D TAKEN HIS MOTHER AWAY IN AN AMBULANCE, Gage thought. All the lights, the sirens, the rush. He hadn't gone with her, of course. Frannie Hawkins had bundled him away, given him milk and cookies. Kept him close.
Now it was his father-the lights, the sirens, the rush. He wasn't entirely sure how it was he was speeding behind the ambulance, wedged in between Fox and Cal in the cab of Fox's truck. He could smell the blood. Cal's, the old man's.
There had been a lot of blood.
Cal was still pale, and the healing wasn't complete. Gage felt Cal tremble-quick, light shivers-as his body continued the pain and the effort of healing itself. But Cal wasn't dead, wasn't lying in a pool of his own blood as he'd been in the vision. They'd changed that. . . potential, as Cybil would call it.
Score another for the home team.
But they hadn't seen the old man. There'd been no vision of his father-dead or alive. No foresight of the old man leaping through the door and onto crazed Cy Hudson's back. No preview of that hot, determined look in his eyes. There sure as hell hadn't been any quick peek through the window to show him the way the old man lay on the floor, bleeding through Fox's wadded-up shirt.
He'd looked broken, Gage realized. Broken and frail and old when they'd loaded him into the ambulance. It wasn't right, it wasn't the right image. It didn't match the picture of Bill Turner that Gage carried around in his head the way, he supposed, he carried the picture of his mother in his wallet.
In that, she was forever young, forever smiling.
In Gage's head, Bill Turner was a big man, hefting the sway of a beer belly. He was hard eyes, hard mouth, hard hands. That was Bill Turner. As soon backhand you as look at you Bill Turner.
Who the hell was that broken bleeding man in the ambulance up ahead? And why the hell was he following him?
It blurred on him. The road, the cars, the buildings as Fox swung toward the hospital. He couldn't quite solidify it, couldn't quite bring it into focus. His body moved-getting out of the truck, climbing out when Fox slammed to the curb of the emergency entrance, striding into the ER. Part of his brain registered odd details. The change in temperature from June warmth to the chill of air-conditioning, the different sounds, voices, the new rush as medical people descended on the broken, bleeding man. He heard phones ringing-a tinny, irritatingly demanding sound.
Answer the phone, he thought, answer the goddamn phone.
Someone spoke to him, peppering him with questions. Mr. Turner, Mr. Turner, and he wondered how the hell they expected the old man to answer when they'd already wheeled him off. Then he remembered he was Mr. Turner.
"What?"
What was his father's blood type?
Did he have any allergies?
His age?
Was he on any medications, taking any drugs?
"I don't know," was all Gage could say. "I don't know. "
