“Seriously. Our strengths and weaknesses as a group, and as individuals. It’s war, isn’t it? Our strengths are our weapons, and weaknesses are the gaps in our defense. Shore up the defense, or at least recognize where the gaps are, and we build up the offensive position.”
“I’ve been teaching her chess,” Fox told the group. “She catches on quick.”
“It’s a little late in the day for lists,” Gage said.
Unoffended, Layla shook her head. “It’s never too late for lists.”
As Cybil picked up her wine, the hummingbird shot away like a sparkling bullet. “Next on mine is cards.”
“You want to play cards?” Cal asked her. “Aren’t we a little busy for a game?”
“You’re never too busy for a game,” Gage corrected. “But I think the lady’s referring to her Tarot deck.”
“I brought it with me today, and Gage and I conducted an experiment.”
Though she trusted her memory, Cybil took out her notes to relate the result to the others. “All Major Arcana, all with meanings specific to both of us,” she concluded. “As our resident gambler would agree, the odds of that being coincidence are in the astronomical range. The cards are open to various interpretations depending on the reader, the question, the surrounding cards, and so on. But it feels as though, in this case, they spoke of connection-physical, emotional, psychic connection. Then the symbol of each ancestry, and the potential for dramatic change, and consequence. I’d like to do a series of this same experiment. Cal and Quinn, Fox and Layla, all three men, all three women, and lastly, all six of us together.”
“You always had a hand with Tarot,” Quinn said.
“My Romany forebears. But this today was more than that.”
“You did the card trick before the dog came on the scene,” Fox commented. “Before the attack.”
“Yeah.” As the memory still unsettled her, Cybil reached for her wine. “Before.”
“Maybe it was part of the trigger. That,” Fox continued, “and you and Gage linking up. We still need the details on that, but if the cards weren’t coincidence, and the linking generates energy and power, it doesn’t seem like another coincidence that the attack came right on the heels.”
“No,” Cybil said slowly. “No, it really doesn’t.”
“You were outside,” Quinn prompted. “In the backyard.”
“Yeah.” Cybil glanced at Gage. “Why don’t you take this part?”
He didn’t particularly care to give reports, but he assumed it was still difficult for her to speak of it. He ran it through, from the moment they’d sat and linked fingertips on the grass, to the moment Cybil fired the kill shot.
“Oh, honey.” Her face filled with concern, Layla reached for Cybil’s hand.
“Excuse me?” Gage held up a finger. “Teeth, claws, rended flesh, spilled blood. Crazy Roscoe took a chunk out of my shoulder the size of a-”
“Oh, honey.” Layla rose and surprised and amused Gage by rounding the table to plant a kiss on his cheek.
“That’s more like it. Anyway, that covers it.”
“Gage has neglected to add that I fell apart. If we’re making lists, that one has to go under weakness. I had a serious meltdown afterward. I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again, but I don’t think it will.”
“Said meltdown was intense, but brief,” Gage continued. “And went into effect after the job was done. Personally, I don’t give a rat’s ass how much anybody gnashes their teeth or freaks after the job’s done.”
“Point well taken,” Cybil decided.
“It made a mistake.” Quinn spoke quietly, but her eyes were a vivid and burning blue. “It made a big goddamn mistake.”
“How?” Cal asked her.
“For three of us here, a crucial element of this has all been theory before today. We’ve talked about what happens to people during the Seven, what they’re capable of doing when infected. But only you, Fox, and Gage have ever dealt with it face-to-face. Only the three of you have ever had to defend yourselves or someone else from an attack of another living thing. An ordinary living thing that’s turned into a threat. How could we know, how could we be sure, how we’d react, if we’d really be able to do what needed to be done when we were faced with it? Now we do.
“That dog today wasn’t one of Twisse’s nasty illusions. It was flesh and blood. Meltdown, my ass, Cyb. You didn’t panic, you didn’t run, you didn’t freeze. You got a gun and you put it down. You saved a life. So the bastard made a big mistake with his preview of coming attractions. Because now four of us have had face-offs, and I’ll be damned if Layla and I aren’t just as able to stand up the way Cybil did. My vote? That’s a big red check in the plus column.”
“That’s telling him, Blondie.” Cal leaned over, kissed her.
“You’re right.” Fox lifted his beer in toast. “It wanted to show off, and got shot down. Literally. Psych.”
Cybil continued to stare at Quinn for another moment, as the last knots of shock and grief inside her untangled. “You’ve always been able to cut through the bullshit, haven’t you? So, okay then.” She took her first truly clear breath in hours. “Let’s take a moment to congratulate ourselves… And that’s the moment. Somebody start clearing the table, and I’ll get my cards.”
As she left the room, Gage pushed away from the table and followed her.
“Look, you’ve already proved a lot today.”
Reaching in her purse she hunted for her cards.
“There’s no need to deal from your magic deck tonight. You’re tired.”
“You’re right, I am tired.” But it was annoying to be told so when she’d gone to the trouble to mask it. “I imagine in the days before the Seven, and during it, you and Cal and Fox function at a state well beyond tired.”
“When it comes to that, choices are limited to none. It hasn’t come to that yet.”
“But it will. And while I’m not above needing or wanting to prove something, this isn’t about that. I appreciate the concern, but-”
She broke off when he took her arm. “I don’t like being concerned.”
The look on his face was one of barely restrained frustration. “No, I bet you don’t. I can’t help you with that, Gage.”
“Look. Look.” The frustration rippled again, more visibly. “Let’s just get something straight, right from the jump.”
“By all means.”
“The way the others have hooked up, that’s not in the cards. Not those,” he said pointing at the Tarot deck. “Not mine, not any. It’s not about love songs and playing house for me.”
She angled her head, kept an easy, reasonable smile on her face. “Are you under the impression I want you to sing to me, and play house?”
“Cut it out, Cybil.”
“No, you cut it out, you arrogant ass. If you’ve got some jitters that I’m somehow going to spin you in my web until you’re serenading under my window and picking out china patterns, that’s your problem.” She shot a finger at him and her smile was no longer easy and reasonable, but had hardened to a sneer. “If you actually have it in your tiny brain that I would want that, you’re just stupid. Which is redundant due to tiny brain, and I hate being annoyed enough to be redundant.”
“Are you going to stand there and try to tell me that when the rest of them are falling off the cliff like lemmings, you haven’t given a thought to grabbing hold and dragging me off with you?”
“What a lovely image, and quite the testament to your views on our friends’ feelings for each other.”
“It’s apt enough,” he muttered. “Add in Quinn’s buzzing vibes and it strikes me as pretty damn reasonable to lay it out.”
“Then let me lay this out. If and when I decide I want a man for the long term, it won’t be because Fate crammed him down my throat. If and when,” she repeated, “and contrary to what you with your sexist stupidity might believe-not every woman is looking for long-term-I won’t need to grab or drag. If I did, I wouldn’t want the son of a bitch. You’re safe from my wiles and whims, you narcissistic jerk. If that doesn’t reassure you, you can kiss my ass.”