"Ah." Layla combed her fingers through her hair as she swiveled to look back. "Most of the time. I manage a boutique in SoHo. Did. Do. I don't know that anymore either."

Nearly there, Quinn thought again.Let's keep calm . "I bet you get great discounts."

"Yeah, part of the perks. Have you seen anything like that before. Like thatthing ?"

"Yeah. Have you?"

"Not when I was awake. I'm not crazy," Layla stated. "Or I am, and so are you."

"We're not crazy, which is what crazy people tend to say, so you'll just have to take my word." She swung onto Cal's lane, and aimed the car over the little bridge toward the house where lights-thank God-glowed in the windows.

"Whose house is this?" Layla gripped the front edge of her seat. "Who lives here?"

"Caleb Hawkins. His ancestors founded the town. He's okay. He knows about what we saw."

"How?"

"It's a long story, with a lot of holes in it. And now you're thinking, what am I doing in this car with a complete stranger who's telling me to go into this house pretty much in the middle of nowhere."

Layla took firm hold on the short strap of her bag, as if she might use it as a weapon. "The thought's crossed."

"Your instinct put you in the car with me, Layla. Maybe you could follow along with that for the next step. Plus, it's cold. We didn't bring our coats."

"All right. Yes, all right." With a bracing breath, Layla opened the door, and with Quinn walked toward the house. "Nice place. If you like isolated houses in the woods."

"Culture shock for the New Yorker."

"I grew up in Altoona, Pennsylvania."

"No kidding. Philadelphia. We're practically neighbors." Quinn knocked briskly on the door, then just opened the door and called in, "Cal!"

She was halfway across the living room when he hurried in. "Quinn? What?" Spotted Layla. "Hello. What?"

"Who's here?" Quinn demanded. "I saw another car in the drive."

"Fox. What's going on?"

"The bonus-round question." She sniffed. "Do I smell fried chicken? Is there food? Layla-this is Layla Darnell; Layla, Cal Hawkins-Layla and I haven't had dinner."

She moved right by him, and walked toward the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, I think, to bust in on you," Layla began. It passed through her mind that he didn't look like a serial killer. But then again, how would she know? "I don't know what's happening, or why I'm here. I've had a confusing few days."

"Okay. Well, come on back."

Quinn already had a drumstick in her hand, and was taking a swig of Cal's beer. "Layla Darnell, Fox O'Dell. I'm not really in the mood for beer," she said to Cal. "I was about to order some wine when Layla and I were disgustingly interrupted. Got any?"

"Yeah. Yeah."

"Is it decent? If you run to jug or twist caps, I'll stick with beer."

"I've got some damn decent wine." He yanked a plate out, pushed it at her. "Use a plate."

"He's completely Sally about things like that," Fox told her. He'd risen, and pulled out a chair. "You look a little shaken up-Layla, right? Why don't you sit down?"

She just couldn't believe psycho killers sat around a pretty kitchen eating bucket chicken and debating wine over beer. "Why don't I? I'm probably not really here." She sat, dropped her head in her hands. "I'm probably in some padded room imagining all this."

"Imagining all what?" Fox asked.

"Why don't I take it?" Quinn glanced at Layla as Cal got out wineglasses. "Then you can fill in as much of your own backstory as you want."

"Fine. That's fine."

"Layla checked into the hotel this morning. She's from New York. Just a bit ago, I was in the hotel dining room, considering ordering the green salad and the haddock, along with a nice glass of white. Layla was just coming in, I assume, to have her own dinner. I was going to ask you to join me, by the way."

"Oh. Ah, that's nice."

"Before I could issue the invite, what I'd describe as a sluglike creature thicker than my aunt Christine's thigh and about four feet in length oozed its way across the dining room, up over the table where a couple happily continued their dining foreplay, then oozed down again, leaving a revolting smear of God-knows-what behind it. She saw it."

"It looked at me. It looked right at me," Layla whispered.

"Don't be stingy with the wine, Cal." Quinn stepped over to rub a hand on Layla's shoulder. "We were the only ones who saw it, and no longer wishing to dine at the hotel, and believing Layla felt the same, we booked. And I'm now screwing my caloric intake for the day with this drumstick."

"You're awfully...blithe. Thanks." Layla accepted the wineglass Cal offered, then drank half the contents at one go.

"Not really. Defense mechanism. So here we are, and I want to know if either of you have ever seen anything like I just described."

There was a moment of silence, then Cal picked up his beer, drank. "We've seen a lot of things. The bigger question for me is, why are you seeing them, and part two, why are you seeing them now?"

"Got a theory."

Cal turned to Fox. "Such as?"

"Connections. You said yourself there had to be some connection for Quinn to see it, to have the dream-"

"Dreams." Layla's head came up. "You've had dreams?"

"And so, apparently, have you," Fox continued. "So we'll connect Layla. Figuring out how they're connected may take a while, but let's just go with the hypothesis that they are, and say, what if. What if, due to this connection, due to Quinn, then Layla being in the Hollow, particularly during the seventh year, gives it some kind of psychic boost? Gives it the juice to manifest?"

"That's not bad," Cal replied.

"I'd say it's damn good." Quinn cocked her head as she considered. "Energy. Most paranormal activity stems from energy. The energy the...well, entity or entities, the actions, the emotions thereof, leave behind, and the energy of the people within its sphere, let's say. And we could speculate that this psychic energy has built over time, strengthened, so that now, with the addition of other connected energies, it's able to push out into our reality, to some extent, outside of its traditional time frame."

"What in God's name are you people talking about?" Layla demanded.

"We'll get to that, I promise." Quinn offered her a bolstering smile. "Why don't you eat something, settle the nerves?"

"I think it's going to be a while before food holds any appeal for me."