The Sign of Seven Trilogy (98 page)

“Points for us,” Quinn commented.

“Points for us. More points for us because we have to assume that it believes it destroyed the bloodstone. It believes it's destroyed our best weapon against it. Still, our ambush had mixed results. We hurt it. Nothing screams like that unless there's pain. It hurt us. It was able to solidify its form, at least temporarily, but long enough to sink its teeth into Gage. We all saw the wound, and it looked nasty, but hardly life-threatening. And we all know he nearly died from it. We thought venom, poison. Gage, I don't know if you have a sense of what happened to you.”

“It burned,” he said. “I've been burned, all three of us have. But I've never felt anything like this. Felt like my goddamn bones were cooking. I could feel it spreading, closing me down. I could think, I could feel, but I couldn't move or speak. So yeah, I'd go with venom, some sort of paralytic.”

Nodding absently, Cybil scribbled some notes. “There are a number of creatures both in nature and in lore that poison and paralyze their prey. Several species of marine animals and fish, arachnids, reptiles. In lore, the Din, a magical catlike beast, possesses an extra claw that holds paralytic poison. The vampire, and so on.”

“We've always known it could infect the mind,” Cal put in. “Now we've seen it can poison the body.”

“And may have killed humans and guardians just that way,” Cybil agreed. “Everything in our research, everything we've learned tells us that this demon left the last guardian for dead, but the guardian lived long enough to pass the power and the burden to a human boy. So it's very possible the guardian was poisoned, its injuries more severe and the poison more concentrated and powerful than in Gage's bite today. It's talked about devouring us, consuming us, eating us. Those may not be colorful euphemisms.”

Quinn winced. “May I just say: Eewwww.”

“I'll second that eewwww and add an Oh God,” Layla said.

“The missing,” Cybil continued. “In our documented and anecdotal evidence, there are always people missing after the demon sweeps through. We've assumed they've gone off insane, or died, killed each other—and that's very likely true for some, maybe even most. But there were likely others who it used for . . .”

“Munchies,” Fox added.

“Somehow this discussion isn't making me feel more optimistic and cheerful.”

“Sorry.” Cybil offered Cal a smile. “I'm hoping to change that. Ann Hawkins finally decided to pay me a visit, in Gage's room while he was sleeping. I've given you the highlights of our conversation—the pep talk, we'll say. But not all the highlights, because I wanted to check some things out first. She said Gage was alive, more than alive. That he'd brought something back. Another weapon.”

“I was a little out of it, but I'm pretty sure I came back empty-handed.”

“Not in your hands,” Cybil told him. “Its blood, our blood, their blood. And now, Gage, your blood.”

“What about my blood?”

“Oh! Oh well,
shit
!” Quinn's grin spread.

“Hardly a wonder we've been friends so long.” Cybil nodded at her. “You survived,” she said to Gage. “Your body fought off the poison, the infection. Antibodies, immunoglobulins.”

Layla raised a hand. “Sorry, science isn't my strong suit.”

“Antibodies are produced by the immune system, in response to an antigen—bacteria, toxins, viruses. Basically, we've got hundreds of thousands of blood cells capable of producing a single type of antibody, and its job would be to bind with the invading antigen, and that triggers a signal for the body to manufacture more of the antibody. It neutralizes the effect of the toxin.”

“Gage's blood kicked the poison's ass,” Fox said. “He's got an advantage on that, like me and Cal. Our healing gifts.”

“Yes. It helped him survive, and because he survived, his blood produced the antibodies that destroyed the toxin, and his blood now contains the basis for immunity. It bit you before,” Cybil reminded Gage. “At the cemetery.”

“I didn't have a reaction to that like I did today.”

“It barely nipped you, and on the hand. Did it burn?”

“Yeah, some. Yeah, a lot, but—”

“Did you feel any nausea or dizziness?”

He started to deny it, then considered. “Maybe a little. Maybe it took longer than I expected to heal.”

“You've survived two bites—one minor, and one serious—and closer to the heart. It's speculative,” she hurried on, “it's not a hundred percent. But antibodies can recognize and neutralize toxins. It's a leap of faith from the science to taking what Ann said to me as what I'm suggesting now. But we don't have the time, the means, or the ability to test Gage's blood, analyze it. We don't have a sample of the poison.”

“I don't think anyone's going to volunteer to get one,” Fox added.

“You could be immune,” Cybil said to Gage. “The way some people are to certain venoms after being bitten, or diseases after recovery from them. And your blood may be a kind of antivenom.”

“You're not suggesting you send some of my blood off to the lab and have it made into a serum.”

“No, first because serology is complicated and again, we don't have the means or the know-how. But this isn't just about science. It's also about parascience. It's about magicks.”

Cybil laid her hands on her notebook as the moon made its slow rise through the trees. “You and Cal and Fox mixed your blood twenty-one years ago and opened the door for Twisse, as we believe Dent planned all along. The six of us mixed blood, ritualistically, and fused the three sections of the bloodstone you were given into one.”

“You're banking that another blood ritual, mixing mine with all of yours, will transfer this immunity—if I have it—to the rest of you.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Then let's do it.”

Just like that, she thought, relieved. Just like that. “I'd like to do a little more research on the ritual itself—when, how, where it should be performed.”

“Don't hedge your bets, sugar. It happened here, so it should be here. It happened today, so it should be today.”

Layla spoke before Cybil could. “I agree with Gage and not just because of the
eewwww, oh God
. Though that's a factor. Twisse is hurt, but it won't stay that way. We don't know how long we have before it comes back. If you think this is a defense, then let's put up the shield now.”

“Cyb, you researched blood rituals inside and out before our last trip to the Pagan Stone. You know we can do this.” Quinn looked around the table. “We know we can do it.”

“We need words, and—”

“I'll handle it.” Quinn pushed to her feet. “Writing under pressure is one of my best things. Set it up, and give me five,” she added before she walked into the house.

“Well.” Cybil blew out a breath. “I guess it's here and now.”

She scouted through Cal's gardens for specific flowers and herbs, and continued to snip when Gage crossed the lawn to her. They stood in the wash of moonlight.

“Making a bouquet?”

“Candles, herbs, flowers, words, movements.” She moved a shoulder. “Maybe they're trappings, maybe they're largely symbolic, but I believe in symbols. They're a sign of respect, if nothing else. Anytime you shed blood, anytime you ask a higher power for a favor, it should be with respect.”

“You're a smart woman, Cybil.”

“I am.”

He took her arm, held it until she'd turned to face him. “If this works, it's because you were smart enough to put it together.”

“If it doesn't?”

“It won't be because of the lack of brainpower.”

“Are you seducing me by flattering my mind?”

“No.” He smiled, trailed a finger over her cheek. “I'll seduce you by clouding your mind. I'm telling you this is going to work.”

“Optimism? From you?”

“You're not the only one who's looked into rites and rituals. I've spent a lot of the time I'm away from here looking into those areas. Some of it's show. But some? It's faith and respect, and it's truth. It's going to work because between the six of us, we cover those bases. It's going to work because it's not just my blood, not just antibodies and science. Your tears are in me now. I felt them. So whatever I brought back, part of it's you. Get your symbols, and let's do this thing.”

She stood where she was when he walked away, stood in the moonlight with flowers in her hands, and closed her eyes. Close her heart? she thought. Get over him? No, no, not if she lived a dozen lifetimes.

It was life, Ann Hawkins had told her. The joy and the pain. It was time to accept she'd have to feel both.

They lighted the candles, and sprinkled the flowers and herbs over the ground where Gage had fallen. Over them, in the center of the circle they formed, Quinn laid the photograph she'd taken of them. All six of them linked—hands or arms—with the big dog leaning adoringly against Cal's leg.

“Nice touch,” Cybil commented, and Quinn smiled.

“I thought so. I kept the words simple. Pass it around,” she suggested.

Cybil took the page first, and read. “You do good work.” She passed it to Gage, and so the words went from hand to hand. “Everybody got it?”

Gage took Cal's Boy Scout knife, skimmed the blade across his palm. Cal took the knife, mirrored the gesture. As with the words, the knife passed from hand to hand.

And they spoke together as hands clasped, and blood mixed.

“Brother to brother, brother to sister, lover to lover. Life to life for the then, for the now, for the to be. Through faith, through hope, in truth. With blood and tears to shield light from black. Brother to brother, brother to sister, lover to lover.”

Though there was no wind, the candle flames swayed and rose higher. Cal crouched. “Friend to friend,” he said and taking Lump's paw, scored a shallow cut. Lump stared, dark eyes full of trust as Cal closed his hand over the cut. “Sorry, pal.” He straightened, shrugged. “I couldn't leave him out.”

“He's part of the team.” Quinn bent, picked up the photograph. “I don't feel any different, but I believe it worked.”

“So do I.” Layla crouched to gather up the flowers and herbs. “I'm going to put these in water. It just . . . seems like the right thing to do.”

“It's been a good day.” Fox took Layla's hand, brushed his lips over her palm. “I've got one thing to say. Who wants cake?”

Fifteen

BECAUSE IT WAS A QUIET PLACE WHERE THE THREE of them could meet in private, Gage and Fox joined Cal in his office in the bowling center. Time was ticking by. Gage could all but feel the days draining away. None of them had seen Twisse, in any form, since the day Gage had shot it. But there had been signs.

The increase in animal attacks, or the bloated bodies of animals on the sides of the road. Unexplained power outages and electrical fires. Tempers grew shorter, it seemed, every day. Accidents increased.

And the dreams became a nightly plague.

“My grandmother and cousin are moving into my parents' place today,” Cal told them. “Somebody threw a rock through Grand's next-door-neighbor's window yesterday. I'm trying to convince them all to move out to the farm, Fox. Safety in numbers. The fact is, the way things are, we'll need to get those who're willing out there soon. I know it's earlier than we thought, I know it's a lot, but—”

“They're ready. My mom and dad, my brother and his family, my sister and her guy.” Fox rubbed the back of his neck. “I had a fight with Sage over the phone last night,” he added, speaking of his older sister. “She started talking about making plans to come back, to help. She's staying in Seattle—pissed at me, but she's staying. I used the fact that Paula's pregnant as leverage there.”

“That's good. Enough of your family's involved in this. My two sisters are staying where they are, too. People are heading out of town every day. A couple here, a couple there.”

“I stopped by the flower shop yesterday,” Fox told them. “Amy told me she's closing up the end of the week, taking a couple weeks' vacation up in Maine. I've had three clients cancel appointments for next week. I'm thinking I might just close the office until after this is done.”

“Find out if there's anything your family needs out at the farm. Supplies, tents. I don't know.”

“I'm going to head out there later, give them a hand with some of it.”

“You need help?” Gage asked.

“No, we've got it covered. I might be late heading back to Cal's if that's where we'll all bunk tonight. One of you could make sure Layla's not on her own, and gets there.”

“No problem. Anybody getting any sleep?” Cal asked them, and Gage merely laughed. “Yeah. Me, too.” Cal nudged the bloodstone over the desk. “I took this out of the safe when I got here this morning. I thought maybe if I just sit here, stare at the damn thing, something will come.”

“We've got so much going.” Fox pushed to his feet to pace. “I can feel it. Can't you feel it? We're right on the edge of it, but we just can't push over. It seems like it's all there, all the pieces of it. Except that one.” He picked up the stone. “Except this one. We've got it, but we don't know how the hell to use it.”

“Maybe what we need is a howitzer instead of a hunk of rock.”

With a half smile, Fox turned to Gage. “I'm at the point a howitzer doesn't sound so bad. But this is what'll do the bastard. The women are spending nearly every waking hour—which is most of the time these days—trying to find the answer to this hunk of rock. But . . .”