As he ran, he bled; as he bled, he healed.

He cut through buildings, leaped fences, sprinted across yards. He saw Quinn standing in the middle of the street, shaking.

“I’m lost. I’m lost. I don’t know what to do. I can’t get home.”

He grabbed her hand, dragged her with him.

“It’s the same place. It’s always the same place. I can’t-”

“Shut it down,” he snapped at her. “Shut everything down.”

“I don’t know how long. I don’t even know how long I’ve been… Cal!”

She jerked away from Fox, and whatever she had left, she pulled into her, and ran to where Cal stood with his howling dog.

“It’s gone, it’s all gone.” He caught Quinn in his arms, pressed his face to her neck. “I thought you were gone. I couldn’t find you.”

“It’s lies.” Fox shoved Cal back. “It’s lies. My God, can’t you hear her screaming?”

He hurtled across the street, up it, then burst into the rental house. Charging up the stairs he felt his fear tearing at him as the spiders had torn at his flesh. Her screaming stopped. But its echo led him to her, had him shoving open the bathroom door where she lay naked and unconscious on the floor.

In the kitchen, Cybil cried out when she heard the front door slam open. She threw her arms up, took a blind step forward. The gray wavered, thinned. And she sobbed as her vision cleared. She saw Gage, only Gage, pale as a sheet, staring back at her. When she threw herself into his arms, he caught her, and held her as much for himself as for her.

Seventeen

SHE WAS WET AND COLD, SO FOX CARRIED LAYLA to the bed, wrapped the blanket around her. A bruising scrape marred her temple, and would undoubtedly ache when she came to. No blood, no breaks as far as he could see on a quick and cursory look. Getting her warm and dry were priorities, he thought. Then he’d make certain, then he’d look closer, look deeper. He’d barely had time to check her pulse before Quinn and Cal rushed in.

“Is Layla- Oh, God.”

“Fainted, I think. I think she just fainted,” Fox told Quinn when she dropped down beside him. “Maybe hit her head. Something happened when she was in the shower. I don’t think there’s anything there now, but Cal-”

“I’ll check.”

“You said… Sorry.” Quinn mopped at her own tears. “Really bad day. You said you heard her screaming.”

“Yeah, I heard her.” Her terror had been so huge, he thought as he pushed her wet hair away from her face. It had reached out and gripped him by the throat, had filled his head with her screams. “I heard all of you.”

“What?”

“I guess our Bat Signal worked. It was jumbled, but I heard all of you. She needs a towel. Her hair’s wet.”

“Here.” Cal handed him one. “Bathroom’s clear.”

“Cybil, Gage?”

Cal squeezed the hand Quinn held out to him. “I’ll go check on them. Stay here.”

“What happened to you?”

Fox shook his head. “Later.” He lifted Layla’s head to spread the towel under her hair. “She’s coming around. Layla.” Relief gushed through him when her eyelids fluttered. “Come on back, Layla. It’s all right. It’s over.”

She surfaced with a wheezing gasp, with her hands slapping wildly, her eyes wide with horror.

“Stop. Stop.” He did all he could think to do. He wrapped himself around her, pushed calm into her mind. “It’s over. I’ve got you.”

“In the shower.”

“Gone. They’re gone.” But he could see in her mind how they’d come out of the drain, slid across the tiles.

“I couldn’t get out. The door wouldn’t open. They were everywhere, they were all over me.” Shuddering, shuddering, she burrowed against him. “They’re gone? You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Are you hurt? Let me see.”

“No, I don’t think… My head a little. And-” She focused on him. “Your face! Oh God, your hand. It’s swollen.”

“It’s healing. It’s okay.” And the healing pain was nothing against the overwhelming relief. “It looks like Twisse took a shot at all of us at once.”

Quinn nodded. “He hit me and Cal. Grand slam.”

“More a clean sweep,” Cybil said from the doorway. “He hit me and Gage, too. Six for six. Fox, why don’t you go on downstairs? Your pals are still pretty shaken. We’ll help Layla get dressed, then we’ll be down in a few.”

She was ice pale, he noted. It was the first time he’d seen Cybil that far off her stride in the months he’d known her. Quinn was already rising, going to her. Because the room became essentially and completely female again, Fox decided it was probably best for each sector to retreat to its particular corner, take a deep breath before mixing again.

“All right.” But he touched Layla’s face, kissed her gently. “I’ll be right downstairs.”

TIMES LIKE THESE, FOX THOUGHT, CALLED FOR whiskey. He found the single, unopened bottle of Jameson among the wine, and figured it had been Cal’s contribution to the liquor supply. He got glasses, ice, and poured a generous two fingers in each.

“Good thinking.” Cal downed half of his in one swallow, and still his eyes remained haunted. “You healed up. You looked bad when I saw you outside.”

“Spiders. Lots of them. Big bastards.”

“Where?”

“My office.”

“The town was gone for me.” Cal studied the whiskey, swirled it. “I came out of the center with Lump, and it was gone. Like a bomb had gone off. Buildings leveled, fire and smoke. Bodies. Jesus, pieces of them everywhere.” He took another, slower sip. “We’ll need to write this down, get everybody’s deal.”

“Oh yeah, that’ll help.” Gage downed a single, bitter swallow. “It got us, big-time. Now we’re going to take minutes of the meeting.”

“You got better?” Cal shot back. “You got the final solution, bro? Because if you do, don’t hold back.”

“I know we’re not going to talk it to death. And sitting around taking notes doesn’t mean dick unless you’re writing a book. That’s your lady’s business, not mine.”

“So what are you going to do? Take a walk? You’re good at that. Are you just going to catch a plane to wherever the hell and come back for the finale? Or do you want to just skip that part this year?”

“I come back to this hellhole because I swore on it.” Rage whirling around him like wind, Gage moved in on Cal. “If I hadn’t, it could blow to hell as far as I’m concerned. It doesn’t mean a damn to me.”

“Not much does.”

“Stop!” Fox’s voice snapped out as he wedged between them. “It doesn’t do any good to start swiping at each other.”

“Maybe we should make peace signs and daisy chains.”

“Look, Gage. If you want out, there’s the goddamn door. And if all you can do is kick him while he’s down,” Fox added, swinging around to Cal, “don’t let the same goddamn door hit you on the ass on your way out.”

“I’m not kicking anyone, and who the hell asked you?”

Raised voices had Cybil quickening her steps. She took stock of the scene in the kitchen quickly, and stepped into it before someone threw a punch. “Well, this is productive.”

She walked right in the middle of three furious men, snatched the glass out of Gage’s hand, drank. And her voice held the faintest edge of boredom. “At least someone had the good sense to get out the whiskey before the testosterone attack. If you boys want to fight, go outside and beat on each other. You’ll heal quickly enough, but the furniture in here won’t.”

Fox settled down first. He set the whiskey he no longer wanted aside, gave a sheepish shrug. “They started it.”

Appreciating him, Cybil cocked a brow. “And do you do everything they do? Jump off bridges, play with matches? Let’s try this instead. I’m going to put food and drink together to address that basic human need. The comfort it brings should help us get through telling each other what happened.”

“Gage doesn’t want to talk,” Cal said.

“Neither do I.” She looked at Gage as she spoke. “But I’m going to. It’s another basic human need, and shows us we’ve got that all over the Big Evil Bastard.” Smiling with lips she’d painted a defiant coral before coming down, she shook back her hair. “Why doesn’t somebody order pizza?”