“It’s a big step, Fox,” Cal said slowly. “You’re established here, not just personally, but with your practice.”

“Not everybody can stay. You won’t,” Fox said to Gage.

“No, I won’t.”

“But you come back, and you’ll keep coming back. So will I.” Fox turned his wrist up, and that scar that ran across it. “Nothing erases this. Nothing can. And hell, New York’s only a few hours away. I zipped up and down Ninety-five the whole time I was in law school. It’s…”

“When you were with Carly.”

“Yeah.” He nodded at Cal. “It’s different now. I’ve still got a few lines up there, so I’ll put some feelers out, see what comes. But right now I’ve got some town lawyer business to take care of. I can take a shift at the house tonight,” he added as he started for the door. “But I still say those women have to get ESPN.”

Gage sat on the corner of Cal’s desk when Fox left. “He’ll hate it.”

“Yeah, he will.”

“He’ll do it anyway, and he’ll find a way to make it work. Because that’s what O’Dell’s about. Making it work.”

“He’d have tried with Carly. I don’t know if he could’ve pulled it off, but he’d have tried. But he’s right. It’s different with Layla. He’ll make it work, and I’m the one who’s going to hate it. Not being able to see his stupid face every damn day.”

“Cheer up. Five out of six of us could be dead in a couple days.”

“Thanks. That helps.”

“Anything I can do.” Gage straightened. “I’ve got some business of my own. Catch you later.”

He was nearly to the door when his father stepped up to it. They both stopped as if they’d walked into a wall. Helplessly, Cal got to his feet.

“Ah… Bill, why don’t you check the exhaust fan on the grill? I’ll be down in a minute. I’m nearly done here.”

As the pink the climb up had put in his cheeks faded, Bill stared at his son. “Gage-”

“No.” It was an empty word in an empty voice as Gage walked out. “We are done.”

At his desk, Cal rubbed at the fresh tension in his neck as Bill turned shamed eyes on him. “Um… What’d you want me to check?”

“The grill exhaust. It’s running a little rough. Take your time.”

Alone, Cal lowered to his chair, pressed his fingers to his eyes. His friends, his brothers, he thought, had both chosen rocky roads. There was nothing he could do but go with them, as far as it took.

Twenty

SOME PEOPLE MIGHT THINK IT WAS A LITTLE ODD to get up in the morning, go to work as usual when the evening plans included blood rituals. But Fox figured it was pretty much standard operating procedure for him and his friends.

Layla, who in straight managerial areas could make the beloved Alice Hawbaker look like a slacker, had squeezed and manipulated his schedule to ensure the office closed promptly at three on the big day. He’d already packed his kit. Most might not know what to take along on an early evening hike through the woods by a haunted pool toward a mystical clearing ruled by an ancient altar stone, but Fox had that down. For once, he’d even remembered to check the forecast.

Clear skies-that was a plus-with temps sliding from a balmy seventy to the cool but pleasant midfifties.

Layers were the key to comfort.

In his pocket was his third of the bloodstone. He hoped it would prove to be another key.

While Layla changed, he added some essentials to his cooler. He glanced around when she came in, and he broke into a smile. “You look like the cover for Hiking Style-if there is such a thing.”

“I actually debated with myself over earrings.” She surveyed his cooler and open pack. Coke, Little Debbies, Nutter Butters. “I guess it’s like you say, we all do what we do.”

“These particular provisions are a time-honored tradition.”

“At least the sugar rush is guaranteed. God, Fox, are we crazy?”

“It’s the times that are crazy. We’re just in them.”

“Is that a knife?” She gaped at the sheath on his belt. “You’re taking a knife? I didn’t know you had a knife.”

“It’s actually a gardening saw. Japanese sickle knife. It’s a nice one.”

“And what?” She put a hand to the side of her head as if the pressure would help her mind make sense of it all. “You’re planning on doing a little pruning while we’re there?”

“You never know, do you?”

She put a hand on his arm as he closed his pack. “Fox.”

“Odds are Twisse is going to take an interest in what we’re doing tonight. It can be hurt. Cal did some damage with his handy Boy Scout knife the last time we were there. You can bet Gage is bringing that damn gun. I’m not going in there with just my Nutter Butters.”

She started to argue-he saw it in her eyes-then something else came into them. “Have you got a spare?”

Saying nothing, he went to the utility closet, rooted around. “It’s called a froe.” He showed her the long, flat blade. “It’s good for splitting wooden pins in joinery work. Or taking a slice out of a demon. Keep it in the scabbard,” he added, sliding it into the leather. “It’s sharp.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way.” He laid his hands on her shoulders. “Remember I’m a strong proponent of equality, of women’s rights. I’m going to protect you, Layla.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m going to protect you, too.”

He brushed his lips to hers. “I guess we’re set then.”

THEY MET AT CAL’S TO BEGIN THE HIKE ON THE path near his home. The woods had changed, Layla thought, since her previous trip. There had been snow then, pooled in pockets of shade, and the trail had been slick with mud, the trees barren and stark. Now, leaves were tender on the branches, and the soft white of the wild dogwoods shimmered in the slanting sun.

Now, she had a knife in a leather scabbard bumping against her hip.

She’d walked here before, toward the unknown, with five other people and Cal’s affable dog. This time, she knew what might be waiting, and she went toward it as part of a team. She went toward it beside the man she loved. Because of that, this time she had more to lose.

Quinn slowed, pointed at the scabbard. “Is that a knife?”

“Actually, it’s a froe.”

“What the hell’s a froe?”

“It’s a tool.” Cybil reached out from behind Layla to test the weight of the scabbard. “Used for cutting wood by splitting it along the grain. Safer than an ax. This one, by its size and shape, is probably a bamboo froe, and it’s used for splitting out the bamboo pins used in Japanese joinery.”

“What she said,” Layla agreed.

“Well, I want a froe, or something. I want a sheath. No,” Quinn decided. “I want a machete. Nice long handle, wicked curved blade. I need to buy a machete.”

“You can use mine next time,” Cal told her.

“You have a machete? Gosh, my man is full of hidden pockets. Why do you have a machete?”

“For whacking at weeds and brush. Maybe it’s more of a scythe.”

“What’s the difference? No.” Quinn held up her hand before Cybil could speak. “Never mind.”

“Then I’ll just say you probably want the scythe, as, traditionally, it has a long handle. However…” Cybil trailed off. “The trees are bleeding.”

“It happens,” Gage told her. “Puts off the tourists.”

The thick red ran in rivulets down bark to spread over the carpeting leaves. The air stank of burnt copper as they followed the path to Hester’s Pool.

There they stopped beside the brown water, and there the brown water began to bubble and redden.

“Does it know we’re here?” Layla spoke quietly. “Or is this the demon version of a security system? Can it think this kind of thing scares us at this point, or is it what Gage said? A show for the tourists?”

“Maybe it’s some of both.” Fox offered her a Coke, but she shook her head. “Security systems send out an alert. So if the Big Evil Bastard doesn’t know when we head in, it knows when we reach certain points.”