“Fine,” she agreed. “Where will everyone meet?”
“We believe his camp is northwest,” Caitrin noted, “so we'll gather on the east border of the lawn, behind Lann and Rhiannon's.”
Quin finished his coffee and vanished his cup. Then he hugged Layla close. “It's going to have to work for now. What about help?”
“We have a few people in mind,” Serafin answered. “There's a handful from our home state, and a few others scattered around the U.S. and Canada. There's also one in Nova Scotia and two in Mexico.”
Layla turned her face into Quin's chest, and he tucked his chin in, whispering as he drifted his lips through her hair. “You okay?”
“No,” she answered, “but I'm going to have to learn to deal with it, right? Don't stop the conversation on my account.” No one said anything, so she spoke again. “Just a few people, huh? Will that be enough?”
“No,” Quin answered. “We need more. The more we get, the better everyone's chances will be.”
“Naturally,” Serafin agreed, “but we have a problem.”
“What’s that?”
“You stipulated the volunteers be trustworthy, which severely limits our options. There are magicians all over this continent wishing they could watch Agro die, dreaming they could have a hand in it, but we don't know them, so we can't trust them.”
Quin contemplated this as he ran a lock of Layla's hair beneath his nose. “It’s dangerous to let strangers see what we've become.”
“Yes,” Serafin agreed.
“What about those we know?” Quin asked. “Where will they be staying?”
“Everyone we've thought of so far would be welcome in the community.”
Quin was undecided, and he was tired of thinking about it. “Go ahead and make the calls to those you know. Tally up how many will join us. We'll decide if we want to risk bringing strangers in once we see where our numbers stand.”
Serafin nodded. “We'll try to have them tallied by tomorrow evening.”
“The sooner the better. Is there anything else we need to discuss tonight?”
No one answered, but when Quin looked up, he could tell they had something on their minds. “What’s going on?”
Several of them exchanged hesitant glances. Then Kemble cleared his throat and answered. “We’ve been discussing the situation all afternoon, contemplating different theories, and we're curious what you two think of them.”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” Quin urged.
“Well,” Kemble replied, linking his fingers with Cordelia's, “we were discussing the possibility of a preordained union .”
Layla left her sanctuary and glanced around. “You mean destiny?”
“Yes,” Kemble confirmed. “Under the circumstances, we wonder if you and Quinlan's relationship isn't meant to lead to bigger things.”
“Right,” Layla mumbled, cuddling back into Quin.
He shifted her into a cradle hold and stood. “The bizarre circumstances haven’t escaped our attention, but we haven't discussed it or decided how we feel about it. What do you think, love? Got an opinion on the matter?”
She shrugged, her eyes glued to his chest, her fingernail tracing hearts on his pecs. “Not so much at the moment. Ask me again when Agro's dead.”
“Good answer,” Quin approved. “Our future is worth considering, but for now, we're going to concentrate on surviving our confrontation with Agro. Is there anything else we need to deal with tonight?”
“No,” Caitrin answered. “Stay alert and be ready to meet behind Lann's.”
“Will do,” Quin assured, carrying Layla to the door.
“And don't reveal your auras and bonded lights until everyone's here tomorrow,” Caitrin added. “You'll answer far less questions if you answer them all at once.”
“That's fine. We won't be leaving the house until they're here.” He burrowed into Layla’s curls and whispered in her ear. “Conceal us.”
She did. Then they both mumbled goodnight as the door swung open.
“Goodnight,” their family called back. Then Caitrin laughed as he shut the door.
The house remained dark as Quin carried Layla through the living room, his lips on hers, their clothes magically discarded at the door. When he reached the kitchen, he abandoned the kiss and wrapped her legs around his waist.
“What do you want to eat?”
“Whatever you feed me,” she answered.
A rush of cold air blew across her backside when he opened the fridge, and she giggled as her arms tightened around his neck. “That's cold.”