other time."
"You think you could be infected?" Fox asked her. "That you could turn, hurt someone? One of us?"
"How can we be sure I'm immune? That Cybil and Quinn are? Shouldn't we consider that because of our line of descent we could be even more vulnerable?"
"That's a good question. Disturbing," Quinn added, "but good."
"Doesn't fly." Fox shifted so Layla met his eyes. "Things didn't go the way Twisse planned or expected, because Giles Dent was ready for him. He stopped him from being around when Hester delivered, stopped him from potentially siring more offspring, so the line's been diluted. You're not what he was after, and in fact, according to what we know, what we can speculate, you are part of what's going to give me, Cal, and Gage the advantage this time around. You're afraid of him, of what's in you? Consider Twisse is afraid of you, of what's in you. Why else has he tried to scare you off?"
"Good answer." Quinn rubbed her hand over Cal's.
"Part two," Fox continued. "It's not just a matter of immunity to the power he has to cause people to commit violent, abnormal acts. It's a matter of having some aspect of that power, however diluted, that when pooled together is going to end him, once and for all."
Layla studied Fox's face. "You believe that?"
He started to answer, then took her hand, tightening his grip when she started to pull it free. "You tell me."
She struggled-he could see it, and he could feel it, that initial and instinctive shying away from accepting the link with him. He had to resist the urge to push, and simply left himself open. And even when he felt the click, he waited.
"You believe it," Layla said slowly. "You... you see us as six strands braided together into one rope."
"And we're going to hang Twisse with it."
"You love them so much. It's-"
"Ah..." It was Fox who pulled away, flustered and embarrassed that she'd seen more, gone deeper than he'd expected. "So, now that we've got that settled, I want another beer."
He headed into the kitchen, and as he turned from the refrigerator with a beer in his hand, Layla stepped in.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"
"It's nothing. No big."
"It is. I just... It was like being inside your head, or your heart, and I saw-or felt-this wave of love, that connection you have to Gage and Cal. It wasn't what you asked me to do, and it was so intrusive."
"Okay, look, it's a tricky process. I was a little more open than I should've been because I figured you needed me to be. The fact is, you don't need as much help as I thought. As you thought."
"No, you're wrong. I do need help. I need you to teach me." She walked to the window to look out at the dark. "Because Gage was right. If I keep letting this be a problem for me, it's a problem for all of us. And if I'm going to use this ability, I have to be able to control it so I'm not walking into people's heads right and left."
"We'll start working on it tomorrow."
She nodded. "I'll be ready." And turned. "Would you tell the others I went on up? It's been a very strange day."
"Sure."
For a moment, she just stood, looking at him. "I want to say, and I'm sorry if it embarrasses you, but there's something exceptional about a man who has the capacity to love as deeply as you do. Cal and Gage are lucky to have a friend like you. Anyone would be."
"I'm your friend, Layla."
"I hope so. Good night."
He stayed where he was after she'd gone, reminding himself to stay her friend. To stay what she needed, when she needed it.
Chapter Three
IN THE DREAM IT WAS SUMMER. THE HEAT GRIPPED with sweaty hands, squeezing and wringing out energy like water out of a rag. In Hawkins Wood, leaves spread thick and green overhead, but the sun forced its way through in laser beams to flash into his eyes. Berries ripened on the thorny brambles, and the wild lilies bloomed in unearthly orange.
He knew his way. It seemed Fox had always known his way through these trees, down these paths. His mother would have called it sensory memory, he thought. Or past-life flashes.
He liked the quiet that was country woods-the low hum of insects, the faint rustle of squirrels or rabbits, the melodic chorus of birds with little more to do on a hot