The Hollow Page 0,30

out, I think, if I hadn't been more afraid of having a snake slithering all over me while I was unconscious. I have a thing."

Cybil cocked her head. "A snake thing? You have ophidiophobia? Snake phobia," she explained when Layla simply looked blank.

"She knows all kinds of stuff like that," Quinn said proudly.

"I don't know if it's an actual phobia. I just don't like- okay, I'm afraid of snakes. Things that slither."

Cybil looked at Quinn. "The giant slug you and Layla saw in the hotel dining room the day she checked in."

"Tapping in to her fears. Good one, Cyb."

"It was spiders when the four of you were together at the Sweetheart dance." Cybil cocked her eyebrow. "You've got a spider thing, Q."

"Yeah, but it's an ick rather than an eek."

"Which is why I didn't say you have arachnophobia."

"That would be Fox," Cal volunteered.

"No. I don't like spiders, but-"

"Who wouldn't go see Arachnophobia? The movie? Who screamed like a girl when a wolf spider crawled over his sleeping bag when we-"

"I was twelve, for Christ's sake." With the appearance of a man stuck between embarrassment and impatience, Fox jammed his hands in his pockets. "I don't like spiders, which is different from being phobic. They have too many legs, as opposed to snakes, who don't have any, and which I find kind of cool. I'm only somewhat freaked by spiders that are bigger than my goddamn hand."

"They were," Layla agreed.

Fox blew out a breath. "Yeah, I guess they were."

"She said, Ann said that it seeks out our weaknesses."

"Spiders and snakes," Cal offered.

"That ain't what it takes," Gage finished and got a ghost of a smile from Cybil.

"What scares you?" she asked him.

"The IRS, and women who can rattle off words like ophidiophobia."

"Everyone has fears, weak spots." Wearily, Layla rubbed the back of her neck. "It'll use them against us."

"We should take a break, get you home." Fox studied Layla's face. "You've got a headache. I see it in your eyes," he said stiffly when her back went rigid. "I'll close up for the day."

"Good idea." Quinn spoke up before Layla could object. "We'll go back to our place. Layla can take some aspirin, maybe a hot bath. Cyb'll cook."

"Will she?" Cybil said dryly, then rolled her eyes as Quinn smiled. "All right, all right, I'll cook."

When the women left, Fox stood in the center of the room, scanning it.

"Nothing here, son," Gage pointed out.

"But there was. We all felt it." Fox looked at Cal, got a nod.

"Yeah. But then none of us thought she imagined it."

"She didn't imagine it," Gage agreed, "and she handled it. There's not a weak spine among the three of them. That's an advantage."

"She was alone." Fox swung back. "She had to handle it alone."

"There are six of us, Fox." Cal's voice was calm, reasoned. "We can't be together or even buddied up twenty-four hours out of the day. We have to work, sleep, live, that's just the way it is. The way it's always been."

"She knows the score." Gage spread his hands. "Just like the rest of us."

"It's not a fucking hockey game."

"And she's not Carly."

At Cal's statement, the room went silent.

"She's not Carly," he repeated, quietly now. "What happened here today isn't your fault any more than what happened seven years ago was your fault. If you drag that around with you, you're not doing yourself, or Layla, any favors."

"Neither of you ever lost anyone you loved in this," Fox shot back. "So you don't know."

"We were there," Gage corrected. "So we damn well know. We know." He slid up his sleeve and held out the wrist scored with a thin white scar. "Because we've always been there."

Because it was pure truth, Fox let out a breath. And let go of the anger. "We need to come up with a system, a contact system. So if any of us are threatened while we're alone, all of us get the signal.

"We'll have to come up with something," Fox added. "But right now I need to close up, and get out of this suit. Then I want a beer."

BY THE TIME THEY ARRIVED AT THE RENTAL house, dinner preparations were already under way, with Quinn dragooned into serving as Cybil's line chef.

"What's cooking?" Cal leaned down, tipped Quinn's chin up, and kissed her mouth.

"All I know is I'm ordered to peel these carrots and potatoes."

"It was your idea to have dinner for six," Cybil reminded her, but smiled at Cal. "What's cooking is delicious. You'll like it.