“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.”

She shoved by him, marched into the dining room to slap the deck on the table. “I need to clear my head first,” she said to no one in particular, then sailed out into the kitchen and through the back door.

After a quick glance at Cal, Quinn headed out after her. “She’s mighty pissed,” Quinn commented when Layla stepped out behind her.

“So I see.”

After a rapid stride up the deck and down again, Cybil whirled to them. “Even in my current state of blind rage, I’m not going to say all men are arrogant, ignorant pigs who deserve a good kick in their precious balls.”

“Just one particular man,” Quinn translated.

“One particular, who just had the nerve to warn me that any secret, cherished dreams I might have regarding him are held in vain.”

“Oh God.” The hands Quinn put to her face muffled a sound caught between a groan and a snorting laugh.

“I shouldn’t mistake the fact that the four of you, who’ve run over the cliff like lemmings, I may add, are a precursor of my future bliss with him.”

“As I’m not certain his healing powers are a match for the Wrath of the Cyb, do we need to call nine-one-one?”

“If so,” Layla considered, “we should let him suffer a little while longer first. Lemmings?”

“To be fair, though God knows why I should be, I’d say that remark was more due to his concern over his own situation than his opinion of any of you.”

Quinn cleared her throat. “Ah, just to throw a wrench at the monkey, it’s also possible he went asshat because he’s projecting somewhat, due to complicated feelings for and about you.”

Cybil merely shrugged at Quinn. “That would be his problem.”