Blood Brothers

He might have spent two-thirds of his life caught up in something beyond rational belief, but he’d never heard another woman talk like Qui

“I’ve been studying, researching, and writing about the paranormal for some time now.” Qui

“It could be he was talking to a ghost who caused the illusion that they were alone on the street, and caused everyone else out there to-I don’t know-blip out for a few minutes.” Layla shrugged at Qui

“For the new kid, your theory’s pretty good,” Qui

“How about mine? Which is what she said is a hell of a lot more important right now than how she said it.”

“Point taken.” Qui

“Twenty-one years.” Cal pushed up to pace. “This July makes twenty-one years.”

“Three, like seven, is considered a magickal number. It sounds like she was telling you it was always going to come now, this July, this year. It’s stronger, you’re stronger, they’re stronger.” Qui

“So, it and this woman-this spirit-have both been able to…”

“Manifest.” Qui

“Nothing about this is logical.”

“It is, really.” Opening her eyes again, Qui

“I think there’s more to that part.” Cal turned back from the window. “After that night in the clearing, the three of us were different.”

“You don’t get sick, and you heal almost as soon as you’re hurt. Qui

“Yeah. And I could see.”

“Without your glasses.”

“I could also see before. I started-right there minutes afterward-to have flashes of the past.”

“The way you did-both of us did,” Qui

“Like that, not always that clear, not always so intense. Sometimes awake, sometimes like a dream. Sometimes completely irrelevant. And Fox…It took him a while to understand. Jesus, we were ten. He can see now.” A

“Fox is psychic?” Layla demanded.

“Psychic lawyer. He’s so hired.”

Despite everything, Qui

“He sees what could happen,” Qui

“It’s hardest for him. That’s why-one of the reasons why-he doesn’t spend much time here. It’s harder here. He’s had some pretty damn vicious dreams, visions, nightmares, whatever the hell you want to call them.”

And it hurts you when he hurts, Qui

“No. That would be too easy, wouldn’t it?” Cal said bitterly. “Has to be more fun to mess up the lives of three kids, to let i

“Maybe there was no choice.” Qui

Layla jumped at the brisk knock on the door, then popped up. “I’ll get it. Maybe it’s the delivery.”

“You’re not wrong,” Cal said quietly. “But it doesn’t make it easier to live through it. It doesn’t make it easier to know, in my gut, that we’re coming up to our last chance.”

Qui

“It’s flowers!” Layla’s voice was giddy with delight as she came in carrying the vase of tulips. “For you, Qui

“Jesus, talk about weird timing,” Cal muttered.

“For me? Oh God, they look like lollipop cups. They’re gorgeous!” Qui

“I was in the florist before-”

“You sent me flowers on Valentine’s Day.”

“I hear my mother calling,” Layla a

“You sent me tulips that look like blooming candy canes on Valentine’s Day.”

“They looked like fun.”

“That’s what you wrote on the card. ‘These look like fun.’ Wow.” She scooped a hand through her hair. “I have to say that I’m a sensible woman, who knows very well Valentine’s Day is a commercially generated holiday designed to sell greeting cards, flowers, and candy.”

“Yeah, well.” He slid his hands into his pockets. “Works.”

“And I’m not the type of woman who goes all mushy and gooey over flowers, or sees them as an apology for an argument, a prelude to sex, or any of the other oft-perceived uses.”

“I just saw them, thought you’d get a kick out of them. Period. I’ve got to get to work.”

“But,” she continued and moved toward him, “strangely, I find none of that applies in the least in this particular case. They are fun.” She rose up on her toes, kissed his cheek. “And they’re beautiful.” Then his other cheek. “And thoughtful.” Now his lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’d like to add that…” She trailed her hands down his shirt, up again. “If you’ll tell me what time you finish up tonight, I’ll have a bottle of wine waiting in my bedroom upstairs, where I can promise you, you’re going to get really, really lucky.”

“Eleven,” he said immediately. “I can be here at eleven-oh-five. I-Oh shit. Sweetheart Dance, that’s midnight. Special event. No problem. You’ll come.”

“That’s my plan.” When he gri

“She can come, too-to the dance.”

Now her eyeroll was absolutely sincere. “Cal, no woman wants to tag along with a couple to a dance on Valentine’s Day. It paints a big L for loser in the middle of her forehead, and they’re so damn hard to wash off.”

“Fox can take her. Probably. I’ll check.”

“That’s a possibility, especially if we make it all for fun. You check, then I’ll check, then we’ll see. But either way.” She grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and this time brought him to her for a long, long kiss. “My bedroom, twelve-oh-five.”

LAYLA SAT ON HER BRAND-NEW DISCOUNT MATTRESS while Qui

“Qui

“It’s perfectly acceptable to be the third wheel when there’re four wheels altogether. Fox is going.”

“Because Cal asked him to take pity on the poor dateless V-Day loser. Probably told him or bribed him or-”