Nora Roberts - The Hollow

“Yeah. Crows or other birds flying into windows, into people, buildings. When it does, even people who were here when it happened before are surprised. Like it was the first time they’d seen anything like it. That’s part of the symptoms, we’ll call it.”

“There were other people out-pedestrians, people driving by.”

“Sure.”

“And none of them stopped and said: Holy crap, look at all those crows up there.”

“No.” He nodded, following her. “No. No one saw them, or no one who did found them remarkable. That’s happened before, too. People seeing things that aren’t there, and people not seeing things that are. It’s just never happened this far out from the Seven.”

“What did you do after you saw Layla?”

“I kept walking.” Curious, he angled his head in an attempt to read her notes upside down. What he saw were squiggles of letters and signs he didn’t understand how anyone could decipher right-side up. “I guess I stopped for a second the way you do, then I kept walking. And that’s when I… I felt it first, that’s what I do. It’s a kind of awareness. Like the hair standing up on the back of your neck, or that tingle between the shoulder blades. I saw them, in my head, then I looked up, and saw them with my eyes. Layla saw them, too.”

“And still, no one else did?”

“No.” Again, he scooped a hand through his hair. “I don’t think so. I wanted to get her inside, but there wasn’t time.”

She didn’t interrupt or question when he ran through the rest of it. When he was done, she set down her pencil, smiled at him. “You’re a sweetheart, Fox.”

“True. Very true. Why?”

She continued to smile as she rose, skirted the little table. She took his face in her hands and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “I saw your jacket. It’s torn, and it’s covered with bird blood and God knows what else. That could’ve been Layla.”

“I can get another jacket.”

“Like I said, you’re a sweetheart.” She kissed him again.

“Sorry to interrupt this touching moment.” Gage strode in, his dark hair windblown, his eyes green and cynical. He stored the six-pack he carried in the fridge, then pulled out a beer.

“Moment’s over,” Cybil announced. “Too bad you missed all the excitement.”

He popped the top. “There’ll be plenty more before it’s over. Doing okay?” he asked Fox.

“Yeah. I won’t be pulling out my DVD of The Birds anytime soon, but other than that.”

“Cal said Layla wasn’t hurt.”

“No, she’s good. She’s upstairs changing. Things got a little messy.”

At Fox’s glance, Cybil shrugged. “Which is my cue to go up and check on her and leave you two to man talk.”

As she walked out, Gage followed her with his eyes. “Looks good coming or going.” Taking a long pull on the beer, he sat across from Fox. “You looking in that direction?”

“What? Oh, Cybil? No.” She’d left a scent in the air, Fox realized, that was both mysterious and appealing. But… “No. Are you?”

“Looking’s free. How bad was it today?”

“We’ve seen a lot worse. Property damage mostly. Maybe some cuts and bruises.” Everything about him hardened, inside and out. “They’d’ve messed her up, Gage, if I hadn’t been there. She couldn’t have gotten inside in time. They weren’t just flying at cars and buildings. They were heading right for her.”

“It could’ve been any one of us.” Gage pondered on it a moment. “Last month, it went after Quinn when she was alone in the gym.”

“Targeting the women,” Fox said with a nod, “most specifically when one of them is alone. From the viewpoint-the faulty viewpoint-that a woman alone is more vulnerable.”

“Not entirely faulty. We heal, they don’t.” Gage kicked back in his chair. “There’s no way to keep three women under wraps while we try to come up with how to kill a centuries-old and very pissed-off demon. Besides that, we need them.”

He heard the front door open and close, then shifted in his chair to watch Cal come in with an armload of take-out bags. “Burgers, subs,” Cal announced. He dumped them on the counter as he studied Fox. “You’re okay? Layla’s okay?”

“The only casualty was my leather jacket. What’s it like out there?”

Getting out his own beer, Cal sat with his friends. His eyes were a cold and angry gray. “About a dozen broken windows on Main Street, and the three-car pileup at the Square. No serious injuries, this time. The mayor and my father got some people together to clean up the mess. Chief Hawbaker’s taking statements.”

“And if it goes as it usually does, in a couple of days, nobody will think any more about it. Maybe it’s better that way. If things like this stuck in people’s minds, the Hollow’d be a ghost town.”

“Maybe it should be. Don’t give me the old hometown cheer,” Gage said to Cal before Cal could speak. “It’s a place. A dot on the map.”

“It’s people,” Cal corrected, though this argument had gone around before. “It’s families, it’s businesses and homes. And it’s ours, goddamn it. Twisse, or whatever name we want to call it, isn’t going to take it.”

“Doesn’t it occur to you that it would be a hell of a lot easier to take him down if we didn’t have to worry about the three thousand people in the Hollow?” Gage tossed back. “What do we end up doing through most of the Seven, Cal? Trying to keep people from killing themselves or each other, getting people medical help. How do we fight it when we’re busy fighting what it causes?”

“He’s got a point.” Fox lifted a hand for peace. “I know I’ve wished we could just clear everybody the hell out, have a showdown. Fucking get it done. But you can’t tell three thousand people to leave their homes and businesses for a week. You can’t empty out an entire town.”

“The Anasazi did it.” Quinn stepped in from the doorway. She went to Cal first. Her long blond hair swung forward as she leaned over his chair to kiss him. “Hi.”

When she straightened, her hands stayed on his shoulders. Fox wasn’t sure the gesture was purely out of affection or to soothe. But he knew when Cal’s hand came up to cover one of hers, it meant they were united.

“Towns and villages have emptied out before, for mysterious and unexplained reasons,” she continued. “The ancient Anasazi, who built complex communities in the canyons of Arizona and New Mexico, the colonial village of Roanoke. Causes might have been warfare, sickness, or something else. I’ve been wondering if some of those cases might be the something else we’re dealing with.”

“You think Lazarus Twisse wiped out the Anasazi, the settlers of Roanoke?” Cal asked.

“Maybe, in the case of the Anasazi, before he took any name we know. Roanoke happened after sixteen fifty-two, so we can’t hang that on our particular Big Evil Bastard. Just a theory I’ve been kicking around.” She turned to poke into the bags on the counter. “In any case, we should eat.”

While food and plates were transferred to the dining room, Fox managed to get Layla aside. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She took his hand, turned it over to study the unbroken skin. “I guess you are, too.”

“Listen, if you want to take a couple of days off, from the office, I mean, it’s fine.”

She released his hand, angled her head as she took a long study of his face. “Do you really think I’m that… lily-livered?”

“No. I just meant-”

“Yes, you do. You think because I’m not sold on this idea of the-the Vulcan Mind Meld, I’m a coward.”

“I don’t. I figured you’d be shaken up-anyone would be. Points for the Spock reference, by the way, even though it’s inaccurate.”