The Hollow Page 0,47
shirt.
"Oh my God, what happened?" She pushed instinctively with her mind, but rammed into a wall. She stumbled, went down on her hands and knees in front of him. "You're hurt. Your nose is bleeding."
"Wouldn't be the first time. Damn it, I just washed this stupid sweatshirt. Just give me some room. Give me room." He dragged a bandanna out of his pocket, pressing it to his nose as he sat back on his heels.
"Let's get him inside," Quinn began, but Fox shook his head, then pressed his free hand to it as if the movement threatened to break it away from his shoulders. "Need a minute."
"Cal, go get him some water. Let's try your mother's trick, Fox." Cybil moved behind him. "Just breathe." She found the points, pressed. "Should I ask if you're pregnant?"
"Not a good time to make me laugh. Little sick here."
"Why was it worse for him than for Quinn?" Layla demanded. "It was supposed to be less, because we were linked. But it's worse. You know." She aimed a fierce look at Gage. "Why?"
"Being O'Dell, he stepped in front of you and took the full punch. That'd be my guess. And because of the link, it was a hell of a punch."
"Is that it?" Furious, Layla turned on Fox. "I'm listening to clouds and you're getting kicked in the face."
"Your face is prettier than mine. Marginally. Quiet a minute, okay? Have a little pity for the wounded."
"Don't ever do it again. You look at me, you listen to me. Don't ever do it again. You promise that, or I'm done with this."
"I don't like ultimatums." Even through the glaze of pain in his eyes, the temper sparked. "In fact, they piss me off."
"You know what pisses me off? You didn't trust me to carry my share."
"It has nothing to do with trust or shares. Thanks, Cybil, it's better." He got carefully to his feet, took the water Cal offered and drank it straight down. "They're wrapped in oilcloth, behind the south wall. I couldn't tell how many. Two, maybe three. You know where the tools are, Cal. I'll be back out to help in a minute."
He made it into the house, into the bathroom off the kitchen before he was as sick as a man after a two-day drunk. With his stomach raw and his head a misery, he rinsed his face, his mouth. Then just leaned on the sink until he had his breath back.
When he came out, Layla stood in the kitchen. "We're not finished."
"You want to fight? We'll fight later. Right now we've got a job to do."
"I'm not doing anything until you give me your word you won't shield me again."
"Can't do it. I only give my word when I'm sure I can keep it." He turned, started rooting through cupboards. "Nothing but holistic shit in this house. Why is there never any damn Excedrin?"
"You had no right-"
"Sue me. I know some good lawyers. We do what we do, Layla. That's the way it is. That's the way I am. I took a shot because I knew it was a good one. I got there because of you, because of us. I wasn't going to let you get hurt if I could stop it, and I'm not going to promise not to do what I can to stop you from being hurt down the road."
"If you think because I'm a woman I'm weaker, less capable, less-"
His face was sheet pale as he rounded on her. Even temper couldn't push the color back into his face. "Christ, don't start waving the feminist flag. Did you meet my mother? Your sex has nothing to do with it-other than the fact that I'm gone on you, which, being straight, I wouldn't be if you were a guy. I survived. I got a headache, a nose-bleed, and I lost my breakfast-and dinner, and possibly a couple of internal organs. But other than wishing to goddamn hell and back there was some aspirin and a can of Coke around this house, I'm fine. You want to be pissed, be pissed. But be pissed correctly."
As he drilled his fingers into his forehead, she opened the purse she'd left on the kitchen table. From it she took a little box with a crescent moon on the top.
"Here." She handed him two pills. "It's Advil."
"Praise the lord. Don't be stingy. Give me a couple more."
"I'm still pissed, correctly or incorrectly." She handed him two more pills, inwardly wincing when he