Nora Roberts - The Hollow

“Understand if it goes wrong, it could go seriously and violently wrong.”

“If it goes right,” Fox reminded Cybil, “it’s a step toward saving lives. Toward ending this.”

“More likely we’ll lose a little blood and not a damn thing will change. Any way you look at it, it’s a long shot,” Gage added. “I like a long shot. I’m in.”

“Anyone not?” Quinn scanned the room. “That’s a big go.”

“Let’s get started.”

“Not so fast, big guy,” Cybil said to Gage. “While the ritual’s pretty straightforward, there are details and procedure. It requires the six of us-boy-girl, boy-girl-like any good dinner party, in the standard ritual circle. On the ritual ground at the Pagan Stone. Cal, I don’t suppose you have the knife you used before?”

“My Boy Scout knife? Sure I do.”

“Sure he does.” Charmed, Quinn leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“We’ll need that. I have a list of what we’ll need. And we’ll work out the wording of the incantation. We have to wait for the night of the full moon, and begin in the half hour before midnight, finish before the half hour after.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.”

“Ritual requires ritual,” she snapped at Gage. “And respect, and a hell of a lot of faith. The full moon gives us light, literally and magickally. The half hour before midnight is the time of good, and the half hour after, evil. That’s the time, that’s the place, and that’s our best shot of making it work. Think of it as stacking the odds in our favor. We’ve got two weeks to fine-tune it, work out the kinks-or to call off the whole deal and go to St. Barts. Meanwhile…” She looked into her empty glass. “I’m out of wine.”

As the discussion started immediately, Gage slipped off to follow Cybil into the kitchen. “What’s got you spooked?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She poured herself a generous glass of cabernet. “Must be the death and damnation.”

“You don’t spook easy, so spill.”

She took a small sip as she turned to him. “You’re not the only one who gets previews of coming attractions.”

“What did you see this time?”

“I saw my best friend die, and the death of the woman I’ve come to love and respect. I saw the men who love them die trying to save them. I saw your death in blood and fire. And I lived. Why is that worse? That I saw everyone die, and I lived.”

“Sounds more like nerves and guilt than a premonition.”

“I don’t do guilty, as a rule. On the plus side, in my dream it worked. I saw the bloodstone whole, resting on the Pagan Stone under the light of the full moon. And for a moment, it was brighter than the sun.”

She took a long, quiet breath. “I don’t want to walk out of the clearing alone, so do me a favor. Don’t die.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

OUTSIDE, UNDER THE DIM LIGHT OF THE WAXING moon, Layla kissed Fox good night. And that brush of lips slid into a second, soft and seductive as the night air. “I just think I need to stay here tonight.” But she melted into him for another. “Cybil’s edgy, Quinn’s distracted. And they’ve been poking at each other. They need a referee.”

“I could stay.” Gently, he grazed his teeth over her bottom lip. “Back you up.”

“Then I’d be distracted. I’m already distracted.” With a little groan, she eased away. “Besides, I have a feeling you’ll be going to Cal’s. The three of you are going to want to talk this over.”

“It’s a lot.” He ran his hands down her arms. “You’re up for it.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“No. I could see it. I can see it now.”

Very little could have pleased her more than that single, almost casual, vote of confidence. “Time to take the next step. And by the way, I need tomorrow off.”

“Okay.”

“Just okay?” She shook her head. “No what for, or who the hell’s going to run the office?”

“Three or four times a year-that was the limit-we could take a day off school. We just said, I don’t want to go to school tomorrow, and that was okay. Never had to fake sick or sneak a hook day in. I figure the same applies to work.”

She leaned into him, arms around his waist, hands linked together. “I’ve got a terrific boss. He even sends his parents in to check on me when he’s out of the office.”

Fox winced. “I may have mentioned that-”

“It’s all right. In fact, it’s better than all right. I had a nice chat with your mother, then one with your dad-who dazzles me a little because you look so much like him when you smile.”

“Number One O’Dell Charm Tool. Never fails.”

She laughed, leaned back. “There’s something I should tell you before you go. I’ve been working it out in my head for a while now, then today, when I was talking to your father, something occurred to me. Why was I working on it so much? Why couldn’t it just be? Because, well, it is.”

“What is?”

“I’m in love with you.” She let out a half laugh. “I love you, Fox. You’re the best man I know.”

He couldn’t find words, not with so much blowing through him. I love you, she said, with a smile that made the words sparkle in the dark. So he lowered his brow to hers, closed his eyes, and gave himself to the moment. Here she was, he thought. Everything else was details.

Then tipping her head back, he kissed her brow, her cheeks before laying his lips on hers. “You’re telling me this, then sending me home?”

She laughed again. “Afraid so.”

“Maybe you could just come over for an hour. Make it two.” He kissed her again, deeper, and deeper. “Let’s go for three.”

“I want to, but…”

Even as she started to yield-what was an hour or two when you were in love-Gage came out of the front door. “Sorry.” He glanced at Fox, cocked his head. Fox nodded.

“How do the two of you manage to have a conversation without speaking?” Layla wondered as Gage strode down to his car.

“Probably has something to do with knowing each other since birth. I’m going to ride with him.” Fox caught her face in his hands. “Tomorrow night.”

“Yes. Tomorrow night.”

“I love you.” He kissed her again. “Damn it, I’ve gotta go.” And again. “Tomorrow.”

When he walked to the car, his mind was too full of her for him to notice the dark cloud that smothered the moon.

LEAVE IT TO QUINN, LAYLA THOUGHT, TO FIND the perfect bridal boutique. Every minute of the two-and-a-half-hour drive had been worth it once they’d arrived at the charming three-story Victorian house with its stunning gardens. Layla’s retailer’s eye noted the details-the color schemes, the decor, the fussily female sitting areas, the oh-so-flattering lighting.

And the stock. Displays of gowns, shoes, headdresses, underpinnings, all so creatively contrived, made Layla feel as if she wandered along a wedding cake, with all its froth and elegance.

“Too many choices. Too many. I’m going to choke.” Quinn gripped Cybil’s arm.

“You’re not. We’ve got all day. God, have you ever seen so much white? It’s a blizzard of tulle, a winter forest of shantung.”

“Well, there’s white, and ivory, cream, champagne, ecru,” Layla began. “I’d go for the white with your coloring, Quinn. You can pull it off.”

“You pick one. That’s what you do-did-right?” Quinn rubbed a hand over her throat. “Why am I so nervous?”

“Because you only get married the first time once.”

Quinn poked at Cybil and laughed. “Shut up. Okay.” She took a steadying breath. “Natalie’s setting up the dressing room,” she said, referring to the shop’s manager. “I’ll try on what she’s picked out. But we’re all going to pick at least one gown each. And we have to vow to be honest. If the gown sucks on me, we say so. Everybody, spread out. Dressing room, twenty minutes.”