Nora Roberts - Blood Brothers

“Well, it felt like a minute, no more than, for the whole deal. And it didn’t feel like something from before.” Again, Cybil looked at Gage.

“No, it didn’t. So if I were you, I wouldn’t think about taking a dip anytime soon.”

“I prefer a nice blue pool, with a swim-up bar.”

“Bikini margaritas.” Quinn rubbed her hand up and down Cybil’s arm.

“Spring break, two thousand.” Cybil caught Quinn’s hand, squeezed. “I’m fine, Q.”

“I’ll buy the first round of those margaritas when this is done. Ready to move on?” Cal asked.

He hitched up his pack, turned. Then shook his head. “This isn’t right.”

“We’re leaving the haunted pool to walk through the demonic woods.” Quinn worked up a smile. “What could be wrong?”

“That’s not the path.” He gestured toward the thawing track. “That’s not the direction.” He squinted up at the sun as he pulled his old Boy Scout compass out of his pocket.

“Ever thought about upgrading to a GPS?” Gage asked him.

“This does the job. See, we need to head west from here. That trail’s leading north. That trail shouldn’t even be there.”

“It’s not there.” Fox’s eyes narrowed, darkened. “There’s no trail, just underbrush, a thicket of wild blackberries. It’s not real.” He shifted, angled himself. “It’s that way.” He gestured west. “It’s hard to see, it’s like looking through mud, but…”

Layla stepped forward, took his hand.

“Okay, yeah. That’s better.”

“You’re pointing at a really big-ass tree,” Cybil told him.

“That isn’t there.” Still holding Layla’s hand, Fox walked forward. The image of the large oak broke apart as he walked through it.

“Nice trick.” Quinn let out a breath. “So, Twisse doesn’t want us to go to the clearing. I’ll take point.”

“I’ll take point.” Cal took her arm to tug her behind him. “I’ve got the compass.” He had only to glance back at his friends to have them falling in line. Fox taking center, Gage the rear with the women between.

As soon as the track widened enough to allow it, Quinn moved up beside Cal. “This is the way it has to work.” She glanced back to see the other women had followed her lead, and now walked abreast with their partners. “We’re linked up this way, Cal. Two-by-two, trios, the group of six. Whatever the reasons are, that’s the way it is.”

“We’re walking into something. I can’t see what it is, but I’m walking you and the others right into it.”

“We’re all on our own two feet, Cal.” She passed him the bottle of water she carried in her coat pocket. “I don’t know if I love you because you’re Mr. Responsibility or in spite of it.”

“As long as you do. And since you do, maybe we should think about the idea of getting married.”

“I like the idea,” she said after a moment. “If you want my thoughts on it.”

“I do.” Stupid, he thought, stupid way to propose, and a ridiculous place for it, too. Then again, when they couldn’t be sure what was around the bend, it made sense to grab what you did now, tight and quick. “As it happens, I agree with you. More thoughts on the idea would be that my mother, especially, will want the splash-big deal, big party, bells and whistles.”

“I happen to agree with that, too. How is she with communication by phone and/or e-mail?”

“She’s all about that.”

“Great. I’ll hook her up with my mother and they can go for it. How’s your September schedule?”

“September?”

She studied the winter woods, watched a squirrel scamper up a tree and across a thick branch. “I bet the Hollow’s beautiful in September. Still green, but with just a hint of the color to come.”

“I was thinking sooner. Like April, or May.” Before, Cal thought. Before July, and what might be the end of everything he knew and loved.

“It takes a while to organize those bells and whistles.” When she looked at him he understood she read him clearly. “After, Cal, after we’ve won. One more thing to celebrate. When we’re-”

She broke off when he touched a finger to her lips.

The sound came clearly now as all movement and conversation stopped. The wet and throaty snarl rolled across the air, and shot cold down the spine. Lump curled down on his haunches and whined.

“He hears it, too, this time.” Cal shifted, and though the movement was slight, it put Quinn between him and Fox.

“I don’t guess we could be lucky, and that’s just a bear.” Layla cleared her throat. “Either way, I think we should keep moving. Whatever it is doesn’t want us to, so…”

“We’re here to flip it the bird,” Fox finished.

“Come on, Lump, come on with me.”

The dog shivered at Cal’s command, but rose, and with its side pressed to Cal’s legs, walked down the trail toward the Pagan Stone.

The wolf-Cal would never have referred to the thing as a dog-stood at the mouth of the clearing. It was huge and black, with eyes that were somehow human. Lump tried a halfhearted snarl in answer to the low, warning growl, then cowered against Cal.

“Are we going to walk through that, too?” Gage asked from the rear.

“It’s not like the false trail.” Fox shook his head. “It’s not real, but it’s there.”

“Okay.” Gage started to pull off his pack.

And the thing leaped.

It seemed to fly, Cal thought, a mass of muscle and teeth. He fisted his hands to defend, but there was nothing to fight.

“I felt…” Slowly, Quinn lowered the arms she’d thrown up to protect her face.

“Yeah. Not just the cold, not that time.” Cal gripped her arm to keep her close. “There was weight, just for a second, and there was substance.”

“We never had that before, not even during the Seven.” Fox scanned the woods on both sides. “Whatever form Twisse took, whatever we saw, it wasn’t really there. It’s always been mind games.”

“If it can solidify, it can hurt us directly,” Layla pointed out.

“And be hurt.” From behind her Gage pulled a 9mm Glock out of his pack.

“Good thinking,” was Cybil’s cool opinion.

“Jesus Christ, Gage, where the hell did you get that?”

Gage lifted his eyebrows at Fox. “Guy I know down in D.C. Are we going to stand here in a huddle, or are we going in?”

“Don’t point that at anybody,” Fox demanded.

“Safety’s on.”

“That’s what they always say before they accidentally blow a hole in the best friend.”

They stepped into the clearing, and the stone.

“My God, it’s beautiful.” Cybil breathed the words reverently as she moved toward it. “It can’t possibly be a natural formation, it’s too perfect. It’s designed, and for worship, I’d think. And it’s warm. Feel it. The stone’s warm.” She circled it. “Anyone with any sensitivity has to feel, has to know this is sacred ground.”

“Sacred to who?” Gage countered. “Because what came up out of here twenty-one years ago wasn’t all bright and friendly.”

“It wasn’t all dark either. We felt both.” Cal looked at Fox. “We saw both.”

“Yeah. It’s just the big, black scary mass got most of our attention while we were being blasted off our feet.”

“But the other gave us most of his, that’s what I think. I walked out of here not only without a scratch, but with twenty-twenty vision and a hell of an immune system.”

“The scratches on my arms had healed up, and the bruises from my most recent tussle with Napper.” Fox shrugged. “Never been sick a day since.”

“How about you?” Cybil asked Gage. “Any miraculous healing?”

“None of us had a mark on him after the blast,” Cal began.