Nora Roberts - The Pagan Stone

“It doesn’t matter, Cy.”

“The doctor says it’s probably getting hit in the head, and the shock and all scrambled it up in my brain or something. Maybe Bill, maybe he had a brain tumor or something like that, you know? You know how sometimes people do things they wouldn’t, or-”

“I know.”

“Anyway, Jim said how I should take the family on out to the O’Dell place. Seemed like a screwy thing to do, but things are screwy. I guess I will then. If you, well, you know, need anything…”

“Appreciate it.” Standing by the grave, Gage watched his father’s killer walk away.

Jim Hawkins stepped up, slid an arm around Gage’s shoulders. “I know you had it rough, for a long time. Rougher and longer than you should’ve. All I’m going to say is you’ve done the right thing here. You’ve done right for everybody.”

“You were more father to me than he was.”

“Bill knew that.”

They drifted away, the people from town, the ones he knew by name or face, or couldn’t quite place. There were businesses to run, lives to get back to, appointments to keep. Brian and Joanne stood by him a moment longer.

“Bill was helping out at the farm the last week or two,” Brian said. “I’ve got some of his tools, some of his things out there, if you want them.”

“No. You should keep them.”

“He did a lot to help us with what we’re doing,” Joanne told Gage. “With what you’re doing. In the end, he did what he could. That counts.” She kissed Gage. “You take care.”

Then it was only the six of them, and the dog who sat patiently at Cal ’s feet.

“I didn’t know him. I knew, a little, who he was before she died. I knew, too much, who he was after. But I didn’t know the man I just buried. And I don’t know if I’d have wanted to, even if I’d had the chance. He died for me-for us, I guess. Seems as if that should even it all out.”

He felt something. Maybe it was some shadow of grief, or maybe it was just acceptance. But it was enough. He reached out for a handful of dirt, then let it fall out of his hand onto the casket below. “So. That’s that.”

CYBIL WAITED UNTIL THEY WERE BACK AT CAL ’S. “I have something we need to discuss and deal with.”

“You’re all having triplets.” Fox dropped into a chair. “That would put a cap on it.”

“Not so far as I know. I’ve been doing a lot of research on this, but I’ve hesitated to bring it up. Time’s too short for hesitation. We need Gage’s blood.”

“I’m using it right now.”

“You’ll have to spare some. What we did for us after the attack, we need to do for Cal’s and Fox’s families. In their way, they’ll be on the front line. Your antibodies,” she explained. “You survived the demon bite, and there’s a very decent chance you’re immune to its poison.”

“So you’re going to mix up a batch of antidemon venom in the kitchen?”

“I’m good. Not quite that good. We’d use the ritual we used before-the basic blood brothers ritual. Protection,” she reminded Gage. “Your Professor Linz spoke of protection. If Twisse gets past us, or if it’s able to breach the town, or worse, the farm, protection may be all we can offer.”

“There are a lot of other people besides our families,” Cal pointed out. “And I don’t see them circling up to hold bloody hands with Gage.”

“No. But there’s another way. Taking it internally.”

Gage sat up, leaned forward. “You want the population of Hawkins Hollow to drink my blood? Oh yeah, I bet the mayor and town council will jump right on that.”

“They won’t know. There was a reason I put off bringing this up, and this is it.” She sat on the arm of the sofa. “Hear me out. The town has a water supply. The farm has a well. People drink water. The Bowl-a-Rama’s still doing business, selling beer on tap. We wouldn’t cover everyone, but this is the best shot at a broad-based immunization. I think it’s worth a try.”

“We’re down to days left now,” Fox considered. “When we go into the woods we’ll be leaving the Hollow, the farm, all of it. The last time we did that, it was damn near a massacre. I’d feel easier if I knew my family had something-a chance at something. If that something’s Gage’s blood, let’s start pumping.”

“Easy for you to say.” Gage rubbed the back of his neck. “The whole immune thing is a theory.”

“A solid one,” Cybil said, “based on science, and magicks. I’ve looked into both elements, studied all the angles. It could work. And if it doesn’t, we’re no worse off.”

“Except me,” Gage muttered. “How much blood?”

Cybil smiled. “Going with a magickal number, I think three pints ought to do it.”

“Three? And just how are you going to get it out of me?”

“I’ve got that covered. I’ll be right back.”

“My dad gives blood to the Red Cross a few times a year,” Fox commented. “He says it’s no big, and after he gets OJ and a cookie.”

“What kind of cookie?” Gage wanted to know, then looked dubiously at Cybil when she came back in with a shipping carton. “What’s that?”

“Everything we need. Sterile needles, tubing, container bags with anticoagulant, and so on.”

“What?” The thought of what was in the box had his stomach doing a long, slow roll. “Did you go to some vampire site online?”

“I have my sources. Here.” She handed Gage the bottle of water she’d set on top of the box. “It’s better for you if you drink plenty of water before we draw the blood, particularly as we’re going to draw about three times what’s usually taken in a donation.”

He took the bottle, then glanced into the box and winced. “If I’m going to have to slice some part of me open again for the ritual, why can’t we just take it from there.”

“This is more efficient, and tidier.” She smiled at him. “You’re willing to punch a hole in a demon and die, but you’re afraid of a little needle?”

“ Afraid is a strong word. I don’t suppose you ever jabbed anyone else with one of those.”

“No, but I’ve been jabbed and I studied the procedure.”

“Oh, oh! Let me do it.” Fox waved a hand.

“No way in hell. She does it.” Gage pointed at Layla, whose mouth dropped open in shock.

“Me? Why? Why?”

“Because of everyone here you’ll worry most about hurting me.” He smiled thinly at Cybil. “I know you, sweetheart. You like it rough.”

“But… I don’t want to.”

“Exactly.” Gage nodded at Layla. “Neither do I. That makes us the perfect team.”

“I’ll talk you through it,” Cybil told Layla, and held up a pair of protective gloves.

“Oh, well. Shit. I’m going to go wash my hands first.”

It was surprisingly simple, though Layla-whom he’d seen literally crawl through fire-squealed breathlessly as she slid the needle into his arm. He munched on macadamia nut cookies and drank orange juice-though he’d requested a beer-while Cybil efficiently stowed the three filled bags.

“Thanks to your recuperative powers, we could do this all at once. We’ll give you a little while, then go ahead and do the rituals.”

“The farm should be first. We could swing by there,” Fox calculated, “take care of that.”

“That works. I want to take Lump out there.” Cal glanced at the dog sprawled under the coffee table. “He’s not going in with us this time.”

“We’ll take him out, then go by the Hawkinses’,” Fox said, “then into town. Head out to the water supply from there.” When he reached for a cookie, Gage slapped his hand aside.

“I don’t see your blood in the bag, bro.”

“He’s good,” Fox proclaimed. “Who’s driving?”