Nora Roberts - The Pagan Stone

It was a pisser she’d broken first, but she’d accept that. Eventually.

It was a tough swallow, she supposed, when she’d always perceived herself as the strong one. As the one who made the choices-the tough choices when necessary-and followed them through. Other people fell apart-her mother, her sister-but she held it together. She’d made damn sure of it.

Second swallow, she admitted, was accepting that Gage was right. A dead dog wasn’t going to be the worst of it. If she couldn’t handle that, she’d be useless to the others. So she’d handle it.

Bury it, as he said, and move on.

When the door opened, she felt a flash of temper along with the chilly air. “Just turn around, hotshot, and go back the way you came.”

“It’s Q. You okay?”

The sound of her friend’s voice had tears flooding her throat again. Ruthlessly, she swallowed them down. “Better. You were quick.”

“We headed right over. Cal and I. Fox and Layla will be along as soon as they can. What can I do?”

Cybil turned off the spray. “Hand me a towel.” She shoved back the shower curtain and took the one Quinn held out.

“God, Cyb, you look exhausted.”

“It was my first day on the job as grave digger. I’m in damn good tune, but Jesus, Q, that’s awful work. On every possible level.”

As Cybil wrapped the first towel around herself, Quinn handed her a second for her hair. “Thank God you weren’t hurt. You saved Gage’s life.”

“I’d say it was a mutual lifesaving affair.” She glanced in the steamy mirror. Both emotional and physical weariness crumbled under the sheer weight of vanity. Who was that pale, drawn woman with the dull, bruised-looking eyes? “Oh my God. Please tell me you had the good sense to bring my makeup along with a change of clothes.”

Reassured by the reaction, Quinn leaned a hip against the door. “How long have we been friends?”

“I should never have doubted you.”

“Everything’s on the bed. I’m going down to pour you a glass of wine while you get changed. Do you want anything else?”

“I think you’ve just covered the essentials.”

Alone, Cybil brushed, dabbed, and blended away the signs of fatigue. She changed into the fresh clothes, did a final check, then gathered up the bag holding her soiled shirt and pants. Downstairs, she shoved the bag into the kitchen garbage, then backtracked to the front deck where Quinn sat with Cal and Gage.

Nobody, she imagined, wanted to sit on the back deck just at the moment.

She picked up her glass of wine, sat, then smiled at Cal. “So. How was your day?”

He answered her smile in kind, even as his patient gray eyes searched her face. “Not as eventful as yours. The Memorial Day committee met this morning to go over the final schedule for the day’s events. Wendy Krauss, who’d had a couple of glasses of wine during today’s birthday party for a league-mate, dropped a bowling ball on her foot. Broke her big toe, and a couple of teenagers got into a pushy-shovey over a dispute during a game of Foosball in the arcade.”

“It’s constant drama in Hawkins Hollow.”

“Oh yeah.”

Sipping her wine, Cybil looked out over the terraced slope, the curvy land, the winding creek. “It’s a nice spot to sit after such a busy day. Your gardens are beautiful, Cal.”

“They make me happy.”

“Secluded spot, yet connected to the whole. You know almost everyone around here.”

“Pretty much.”

“You know who that dog belonged to.”

He hesitated only a moment. “The Mullendores over on Foxwood Road. Their dog went missing day before yesterday.” As if he needed the contact, Cal leaned down to stroke a hand on Lump’s side as his dog snored at his feet. “Their place is in town. It’s a long walk for a dog from there to here, but the way Gage described him, I’d say it was the Mullendores’ Roscoe.”

“Roscoe.” Rest in peace, she thought. “Infecting animals is a usual pattern. And I know we have a list of documented attacks by pets and wildlife in the files. Still, as you say, it’s a long way from town to here, on foot-even on four feet. No reports of sightings or attacks by a rabid dog?”

“None.”

“So, logically, this today was, again, target specific. The Big Evil Bastard not only infected that poor dog, but directed him here. You’re often here alone during the day,” she said to Gage. “Twisse couldn’t know I’d be here, certainly not before he infected that dog if it’s been missing for two days. So you go out, maybe take a nap in that appealing hammock Cal ’s got between those maple trees, or maybe Cal goes out to cut the grass. Or Quinn takes a walk through the gardens.”

“Any one of us could’ve been alone out there,” Cal agreed. “And it might not have been a dog you buried.”

“A clever way to do it,” Cybil mused, “or try it, with little effort or energy on its part.”

“Handy, having a woman with a gun around.” Gage took a slow sip of his own wine.

“And one,” Cybil added, “who eventually comes around to the simple truth that she didn’t kill that dog. Twisse did. Just one more thing to add to the list of payback he’s earned.” She glanced toward the road. “Here come Fox and Layla.”

“And dinner.” Quinn touched a hand to Cybil’s. “I ordered up a big salad and a couple of pizzas from Gino’s, figuring we’d want to stick with the simple and the staple tonight.”

“Good thinking. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

THEY DIDN’T, AS THEY OFTEN DID, TALK OF ORDINARY and easy things over the meal. The day had been too full, and the mood too urgent.

“You’ll need to record this, Q,” Cybil began, then turned to Gage. “Gage had a dream.”

He held her gaze another few seconds, then relayed the dream of passion and death.

“Symbolism,” Quinn decided quickly. “That doesn’t go into the prophetic column. Obviously, no matter how good the sex might be, neither of you would just keep at it while the room burst into flame around you.”

“Good point,” Cybil murmured.

“Maybe it was such hot sex, they self-combusted.” Fox shrugged. “Just trying to add a little levity.”

“Really little.” Layla poked his ribs. “We’re all stressed, so violent or, ah, sexual dreams aren’t surprising. And if you consider that… well, if you factor in that you, Gage, that you might be feeling somewhat-”

“Sexually frustrated,” Quinn broke in, “and attracted to Cybil. We’re all big boys and girls, and this isn’t the time to be delicate. Sorry. But the fact is you and Cyb are healthy adults, not to mention really pretty, and you share an ability during a time of extreme stress. It’d be amazing if there weren’t some sexual vibes buzzing about.”

“Satisfy an urge, burn in hellfire?” Cal chewed on the thought as he chewed on pizza. “I don’t think it’s that simple, even symbolically speaking. Connect on intimate levels, there are consequences. And connect to forge another separate link in the chain the six of us have already created, increases the consequences and the power.”

“I agree with that, exactly.” With a nod of approval, Cybil smiled at Cal. “Too bad Q’s in the way, or you and I could have hooked up.”

“Staying in the way, sister.”

“You’re so selfish. Anyway, prophetic dreams, in my experience, are often clouded with symbolism. I think this one could go into that column, or at least be penciled into it.”

“We could go upstairs now,” Gage suggested. “Test the theory.”

“That’s a generous offer. Heroic really.” Pausing, Cybil sipped her wine. “I’ll pass. While I might be willing to sacrifice my body to sex for the good of the cause, I don’t think it’s necessary at this point.”