Upstairs, Cal waited until they'd stepped into the office currently serving as the men's dorm. He pushed Quinn's back to the door. The first kiss was hard, with sharp edges of anger. The second frustrated. And the last soft.

"Whatever's in your head about you and me, because of this, get it out. Now. Understand?"

"Cal-"

"It's taken me my whole life to say what I said to you this morning. I love you. This doesn't change that. So pitch that out, Quinn, or you're going to piss me off."

"It wasn't-that isn't..." She closed her eyes as a storm of emotions blew through her. "All right, that was in there, part of it, but it's all of it, the whole. When I read the file she sent, it just..."

"It kicked your feet out from under you. I get that. But you know what? I'm right here to help you up." He lifted a hand, made a fist, then opened it.

Understanding, she fought back tears. Understanding, she put her palm to his, interlaced fingers.

"Okay?"

"Not okay," she corrected. "Thank God about covers it."

"Let's print it out, see what we've got."

"Yeah." Steadier, she glanced at the room. The messy, unmade pullout, the piles of clothes. "Your friends are slobs."

"Yes. Yes, they are."

Together, they picked their way through the mess to the computer.

CHAPTER Nineteen

IN THE DINING ROOM, QUINN SET COPIES OF THEprintouts in front of everyone. There were bowls of popcorn on the table, she noted, a bottle of wine, glasses, and paper towels folded into triangles. Which would all be Cybil's doing, she knew.

Just as she knew Cybil had made the popcorn for her. Not a peace offering; they didn't need peace offerings between them. It was just because.

She touched a hand to Cybil's shoulder before she took her seat.

"Apologies for big drama," Quinn began.

"If you think that was drama, you need to come over to my parents' house during one of the family gatherings." Fox gave her a smile as he took a handful of popcorn. "The Barry-O'Dells don't need demon blood to raise hell."

"We'll all accept the demon thing is going to be a running gag from now on." Quinn poured a glass of wine. "I don't know how much all this will tell everyone, but it's more than we had before. It shows a direct line from the other side."

"Are you sure Twisse is the one who raped Hester Deale?" Gage asked. "Certain he's the one who knocked her up?"

Quinn nodded. "Believe me."

"I experienced it." Layla twisted the paper towel in her hands as she spoke. "It wasn't like the flashes Cal and Quinn get, but...Maybe the blood tie explains it. I don't know. But I know what he did to her. And I know she was a virgin before he-it-raped her."

Gently, Fox took the pieces of the paper towel she'd torn, gave her his.

"Okay," Gage continued, "are we sure Twisse is what we're calling the demon for lack of better?"

"He never liked that term," Cal put in. "I think we can go affirmative on that."

"So, Twisse uses Hester to sire a child, to extend his line. If he's been around as long as we think-going off some of the stuff Cal's seen and related, it's likely he'd done the same before."

"Right," Cybil acknowledged. "Maybe that's where we get people like Hitler or Osama bin Laden, Jack the Ripper, child abusers, serial killers."

"If you look at the lineage, you'll see there were a lot of suicides and violent deaths, especially in the first hundred, hundred and twenty years after Hester. I think," Quinn said slowly, "if we're able to dig a little deeper on individuals, we might find more than the average family share of murder, insanity."

"Anything that stands out in recent memory?" Fox asked. "Major family skeletons?"

"Not that I know of. I have the usual share of kooky or annoying relatives, but nobody's been incarcerated or institutionalized."

"It dilutes." Fox narrowed his eyes as he paged through the printouts.

"This wasn't his plan, wasn't his strategy. I know strategy. Consider. Twisse doesn't know what Dent's got cooking that night. He's got Hester-got her mind under control, got the demon bun in the oven, but he doesn't know that's going to be it."

"That Dent's ready for him, and has his own plans," Layla continued. "I see where you're going. He thought-planned-to destroy Dent that night, or at least damage him, drive him away."

"Then he gets the town," Fox continued, "uses it up, moves on. Leaves progeny, before he finds the next spot that suits him to do the same."

"Instead Dent takes him down, holds him down until..." Cal turned over his hand, exposed the thin scar on his wrist. "Until Dent's progeny let him out. Why would he want that? Why would he allow it?"

"Could be Dent figured keeping a demon in a headlock for three centuries was long enough." Gage helped himself to popcorn. "Or that's as long as he could hold him, and he called out some reinforcements."

"Ten-year-old boys," Cal said in disgust.

"Children are more likely to believe, to accept what adults can't. Or won't," Cybil added. "And hell, nobody said any of this was fair. He gave you what he could. Your ability to heal quickly, your insights into what was, is, will be. He gave you the stone, in three parts."

"And time to grow up," Layla added. "Twenty-one years. Maybe he found the way to bring us here. Quinn, Cybil, and me. Because I can't see the logic, the purpose of having me compelled to come here, then trying to scare me away."

"Good point." And it loosened something inside Quinn's belly. "That's a damn good point. Why scare if he could seduce? Really good point."

"I can look deeper into the family tree for you, Q. And I'll see what I can find on Layla's and my own. But that's just busywork at this point. We know the root."

Cybil turned one of the pages over, used a pencil on the back. She drew two horizontal lines at the bottom. "Giles Dent and Ann Hawkins here, Lazarus Twisse and the doomed Hester here. Each root sends up a tree, and the trees their branches." She drew quickly, simply. "And at the right point, branches from each tree cross each other. In palmistry the crossing of lines is a sign of power."

She completed the sketch, three branches, crossing three branches. "So we have to find the power, and use it."

THAT EVENING, LAYLA DID SOMETHING FAIRLYtasty with chicken breasts, stewed tomatoes, and white beans. By mutual agreement they channeled the conversation into other areas. Normal, Quinn thought as it ranged from dissecting recent movies to bad jokes to travel. They all needed a good dose of normal.

"Gage is the one with itchy feet," Cal commented. "He's been traveling that long, lonesome highway since he hit eighteen."

"It's not always lonesome."

"Cal said you were in Prague." Quinn considered. "I think I'd like to see Prague."