Retribution (27 page)

“Do you know how to contact them?”

“Yes, and while I can't vouch for their personalities, I can tell you that when it comes to Agro, their intentions are clear.”
 

“Call them. We understand they're reluctant to join without a reasonable chance of success, so we'll meet them in Portland and consider welcoming them into our community. If we feel they can be trusted, we'll let them deeper into our plans than the others.”

“I'll make the calls in the morning,” Dallas agreed.

“Everyone needs to start making calls in the morning,” Caitrin added. “If you trust them, call them, and be sure to stress our need for secrecy and the ticking clock. Have your friends and relatives pass the word on to people they know and trust, and if they have someone in mind already, try to get the contact information and make the call yourself. We'll have the location secured shortly after daybreak, so contact me in the morning and I'll give you its latitude and longitude points to pass on to the volunteers. Tell them they'll be provided for, and make sure they understand peace will be kept in the camp at all costs, so if they enjoy anarchy, they should stay home. We'll not tolerate hotheads with a disregard for other people's rights.” He stood, and the fire died down. “Oh, and no children. Eighteen and over. No exceptions. If you have any questions or worries, let us know, and if you're even the slightest bit unsure about something when you're spreading the word, run it by us before going any further. Any questions?”

Weylin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he cocked an eyebrow. “What about the locals, Caitrin? Are you not going to enlist the help of your closest friends?”

Caitrin sighed and looked at Quin, who tore his gaze from Layla’s sad eyes and rubbed his tight jaw. “Your coven has no history with Agro, Weylin. There’s no reason for you and Kegan to bring your families into this.”

Weylin scoffed as Kegan scowled.

“No reason?” Kegan asked. “They’d object to the murder of everyone here.” He paused and found Caitrin.
 
“You and my grandpa have been friends your entire lives. He stood beside you at your wedding. Or how about you, Cat? How many times have you come to the aid of my coven? Don't you think my family is as committed to helping and protecting their friends and neighbors as you are?” Everyone remained quiet, so Kegan motioned to himself. “What if it were the other way around and I was being targeted? What would you do?”

“We get your point,” Quin interjected.
 

“Good,” Kegan returned, “because not only would they be willing to help, they're trustworthy. And our coven isn't the only one you can count on.”

“No,” Quin objected. “Are you suggesting we endanger the entire magical community surrounding Portland? We're talking annihilation if things go wrong. What are we supposed to do, leave every coven within a three hundred mile radius with nothing but women and children? No one here wants that, and I can guarantee Layla will put up a rip-roaring fight to keep it from happening.”

“Got that right,” Layla mumbled.

“See?” Quin added. “Are
you
going to challenge her?”

“No,” Kegan conceded, “and I understand your concerns, but there are a few covens that are practically related to you, my own included. Are you really going to keep this from them?”

“No,” Catigern answered, and everyone looked at him. “Kegan's right, Quinlan. His coven and the Owen/Sullivan coven are like family to us. It would be a betrayal to keep this from them when we're alerting the rest of the world. Besides, we could use the trustworthy help.”

Quin’s lungs burned, seared by guilt as he watched his great-grandpa. “And if things go terribly wrong and half of them lose their lives in our defense?”

“I'm not suggesting they fight.”

“What?” Weylin blurted.

Catigern looked at him. “If we get enough volunteers here with personal vendettas against Agro, there's no need to pull innocents into the battle.”

“Hear, hear,” Layla and Quin agreed.

“But like Caitrin said,” Catigern went on, “we'll need to keep a constant eye on our company while providing them with daily comforts. We could also use help sniffing out any rats, and it wouldn’t hurt to add more brainpower to our battle plans.”

“And if they want to fight?” Weylin countered.

“It's not their fight,” Quin returned.

Weylin scooted to the edge of his chair and intently met Quin’s stare. “If this family dies, it becomes their fight, so either the circle of revenge continues, or we band together to take the bastard down.”

“Then you’ll have the choice to do so,” Catigern cut in. “As will your family.”

Quin sadly shook his head as his stomach churned, and Catigern quietly cleared his throat before going on. “They're a smart group of magicians, Quinlan. They'll do what's right for their family, just as we're doing what's right for ours.”

“Then it's settled,” Weylin approved, getting to his feet and finding Layla. “When do you want to meet them, gorgeous? We can't just tell them about you. They'll never believe us. You and Quin are going to have to shove it in their faces.”

“Whenever,” Layla mumbled, laying her head on Quin’s shoulder.

He kissed her forehead then looked at Weylin. “Find out when you can get everyone together then let us know. We'll come to you.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Weylin agreed, rubbing his hands together as he winked at Layla. “I know you're uncomfortable with it, but I can't wait to see my family’s expressions when their eyes behold a true angel. Trust me, it's going to be fun, and aside from their stares, which, let's face it, would be hard to contain, they'll be sure to treat you right, so try not to worry.”

Layla smirked and raised an eyebrow. “I have to tell you, Wey, your coven's reaction to me isn't too high on my list of concerns.”

“Good. It shouldn't be.” He looked at his timepiece. Then found Kegan. “I need to go. You coming?”

Kegan nodded then looked at Brietta, who was staring at him with big, multicolored, doe-eyes and a sad pucker. Kegan laughed as he kissed her pout. Then he turned back to Weylin. “Go ahead. I'll be home in the morning.”

Brietta grinned and laid her cheek on Kegan's bicep, and Weylin offered everyone a wave. “Thanks for dinner. See you guys tomorrow.”

Everyone else leisurely got to their feet. Then most of them began saying goodbye. The five guests were given the choice of remaining in the community or going to Karena's inn, and they all chose to stay, so they were filled in on the contingency plan should the Unforgivables show up.

Drystan would soon be relieving Lann of his position over the Unforgivables' settlement, so he was saying goodbye to his wife and kids, and another six wizards were taking up border patrol for the night.

Layla and Quin hung around, concealing Drystan and saying their farewells; and when the lawn finally settled down, Layla glanced between her grandparents and Quin, struggling with an internal battle. It was fairly early, and while her first impulse was to grab Quin and retreat to their bubble, she wished she could spend more time with her grandparents. They were constantly stealing glimpses of her, and despite their endless understanding, it had to upset them to sacrifice this time with her so she could be alone with Quin.

She found his attentive eyes and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Hey.”

“Are you finally going to tell me what you’re scheming on?” he asked, taking her cheeks.

She smiled as her heart swelled. “You could tell, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn't you ask?”

“I assumed you’d tell me when you were ready. So what's on your mind?”

“My grandparents.”

“Ahh... What else?”

“You.”

He leaned in for a sweet kiss. “I love that.”

“I know you do.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“Lots of things, all of them with you by my side.” She grinned and raised her eyebrows. “Or in front of me, or behind me, or beneath me... I'm sure you get my point.”

“I do,” he laughed, “and I think it's the most arousing point I've ever heard. But I get the feeling I need to rein myself in for a while.”

She bit her lip as she nodded. “I was thinking it would be nice to invite my grandparents over to look at those pictures and home movies. It feels like time is running out, and I hate the thought of them not getting to see them. They got so excited when I mentioned it.”

He smiled and ran a thumb across the lip she'd been chewing. “I think that's a fantastic idea.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Don't get me wrong, I look forward to getting you alone, but I’d enjoy catching a glimpse of your past. Heaven will still be there when we're done.”

“It might take a while.”

“I don't care how late it gets, if heaven’s where you want to go, I'll take you there.”

She smiled as she rested her cheek on his heart. “Okay. Do I need to buy my ticket now?”

“Silly angel,” he whispered, lowering his lips to her hair. “You ride free.”

Layla's grandparents were thrilled with her offer to go through the photographs and videos – Morrigan actually broke into happy sobs at the invitation – so within ten minutes they were in Layla’s living room, huddled in a circle on the floor while slowly passing around snapshots of her childhood.

“Look at this one, Quinlan,” Morrigan insisted, passing him a photo.

Layla was on his lap and saw the picture the same time he did, and her cheeks flushed as she looked away. “Don’t ask.”

“About what?” Quin laughed. “The expression on your face? Or the boy in tights trying to kiss you?”

“That’s Peter Pan,” Layla explained, “getting a little too close for Wendy’s taste.”

“How old were you?”

“Um… around eleven. Mom loved the theater and started auditioning me for local performances when I was two.”

It took several hours to sift through eighteen years of pictures, and when they got to the end of the pile, Morrigan and Daleen began cycling through them again.

“There's still a stack of videos here,” Layla reminded them. “And feel free to take some of those. Just run them by me first if they have Katherine in them.”

Her grandmothers' auras pulsed and brightened as they began selecting photos from the huge pile, and Serafin took the liberty of picking out a few of his favorites as well. Caitrin refilled everyone's coffee while approving the snapshots Morrigan flashed him. Then he found the oldest video and inserted it into the VCR.

Everyone looked at the TV as the screen filled with Layla's smiling face, which kept coming in and out of focus as Katherine tried to figure out her camcorder.

“How old are you in this?” Daleen asked.

“Almost seven,” Layla answered.

The shot finally panned out, showing off a blue and silver leotard, and Morrigan and Daleen cooed as Layla giggled at the younger version of herself. Quin smiled as he tightened his hold on her, and soon he and her grandparents were seeing a side of Layla they’d never seen before.

“Okay,” Katherine announced, prompting Layla to perform for the camera.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Layla began humming a tune and tap dancing… very well for such a small child, but then she grinned and started throwing in overzealous moves and humorous sound effects. The camcorder shook as Katherine quietly laughed behind it, and her enjoyment seemed to spur her adopted daughter’s zest. The routine ended with Layla flashing hyper jazz hands. Then Katherine cheered as Layla took a bow.

“Like it?” she asked, twirling a long curl around her finger.

“
Loved
it,” Katherine corrected. “Is that one of the routines you'll do at the dance recital tonight?”

“Nope,” Layla answered, twirling in place. “That was one of my own routines.”

“I thought so,” Katherine laughed. “It looked like your work.”

“The ones I'll do later aren't as funny. I told Miss Janette she should let me do our tap routine dressed like Charlie Chaplin… you know, to spice things up. But would you believe she said no?”

“The nerve.”

Layla propped her hands on her glittering hips and raised an eyebrow. “I'm telling you, mom, some people wouldn’t know entertainment even if it tapped across their face in a bowler hat and mustache.”

“If you're on the stage, Layla Love, the audience will be entertained. I promise.”

“Maybe, but they’d laugh if I looked like Charlie Chaplin.” She broke into another dance. “I should surprise Miss Janette and extend the boring routine she’s making us do. After the others leave the stage, I'll go into a number from
Cabaret
and mix it with the choreography from
Grease
. What do you think?” she asked, mixing soft shoe jazz with the moves of a Pink Lady.

The camera jarred as Katherine laughed. “I think the audience would love it, but Miss Janette is another story.”

“Well she's not committed to the art of comedy. I guess I’ll have to take on the exhausting job of opening her mind.”

“And you'll do it with pizazz.”

Layla pirouetted then posed with one hand and one foot out in front of her. “Of course.”