walked through the walls, into the kitchen. A bowl he recognized as Fox's mother's work sat on the counter holding fruit. Music drifted in, something classical that struck the first uneasy note in him. Cal wasn't the classical type, and he'd never known Quinn to go for it.
Who was listening to the music? Who'd bought the apples, the oranges in the bowl? The thought of strangers in Cal 's house pushed him forward, lit a spark of anger in him. Cybil's hands tightened on his, nudged him back. He sensed, almost heard her.
No anger. No fear. Wait and see.
Locking down emotion, he moved with her.
A fire crackled in the hearth. Tulips spilled out of a clear glass vase on the mantel. And on the couch, Quinn slept under a colorful blanket. As he watched, Cal stepped to her, leaned over, and kissed her cheek. Even as the restrained tension eased out of Gage, Quinn stirred.
She smiled as her eyes opened. "Hi."
"Hi, Blondie."
"Sorry. Mozart may be good for the kid, but it puts me to sleep every time."
As she shifted, as the blanket slid down, Gage saw she was hugely pregnant. Her hands crossed over her belly, and Cal 's closed over them.
It flicked off, the sounds, the images, the scents, and he was back on the grass staring into Cybil's eyes.
"It's nice to have a positive possibility for a change," she managed.
"Headache?" Quinn asked immediately. "Nausea?"
"Not really. It was easier, smoother. And the vision was a quiet one. I think that makes a difference, too. A happy one. You and Cal, in the house. It was winter, and you were sitting in front of the fire."
She squeezed Gage's hand, shot him a look. He took both as a warning, and shrugged. She didn't want to bring up the bun in the oven, fine.
"I like that better than the last one you had of us," Quinn decided. "So, how'd I look? Any disfiguring scars from demon battles?"
"Actually, you looked fabulous. Both of you did. Let's try again. Not a place this time, but people." Cybil looked up at Fox and Layla. "If that's okay with you?"
"Yeah." Layla reached for Fox's hand. "Okay."
"The same way." Cybil met Gage's eyes, settled her breathing. "Slow."
He brought them into his mind as he had Cal 's house, shapes, colors, textures. He envisioned them as they were now, standing hand-in-hand behind him. Again, what was faded into what might be.
The shop, he decided. Layla's future boutique with the counters, the displays, the racks. She sat at a fancy little desk, typing something on a laptop. When the door opened, she glanced up and stood as Fox strolled in.
"Good day?" he asked.
"Good day. September's looking great, and I got more fall stock in this afternoon."
"Then congratulations and happy anniversary." He brought a bouquet of pink roses from behind his back.
"They're gorgeous! Happy anniversary."
"One month since your official grand opening."
She laughed, and as she took the flowers, the diamond on her finger caught the light and sizzled. "Then let's go home and celebrate. I'll have my one glass of wine a week."
"You're on." He put his arms around her. "We made it."
"Yes, we did."
When they came back, Cybil's hands once again squeezed his. "You take this one," she suggested.
"Your shop looks pretty slick, and so did you," he added when Layla let out a shaky breath. "That one looked pretty much like he always did. So considering these are possibilities, you've still got time to dump him."
He looked up at the sky. "We're going to get rained on before much longer."
"We've got time for another," Cybil insisted. "Let's go for the gold. The Pagan Stone."
He'd expected her to want to see herself, specifically, or the two of them. As he'd thought before, she surprised him. "We do this, that's it for tonight."
"Agreed. I've got some ideas for other avenues. Another time. Ready?"
It came too fast. He knew it the moment he opened to it, to her. Not a drift this time, but the sensation of being the pebble flying from the slingshot. The flight flung him straight into the holocaust. It rained blood and fire, each striking the scorched ground of the clearing to flash, to burn. The stone boiled with both.
He saw Cybil, her face pale as wax. Her hand bled, as did his. His lungs strained as he fought to breathe in the smoke-thickened air. He heard the shouts around him, and braced.
For what? For what? What did he know?
It came from everywhere at once. Out