Page 3 of The Seven Rings
“Look, Owen, I’m an amateur, but unity counts. What did you do when Pye ran off and up to the Gold Room door when that bitch was having another one of her fits?”
“Went after the cat.”
“You sang. So, hell, sing. Everybody, sing.”
“You want us to sing?”
She shrugged at Trey. “It’s better than standing here just watching and hearing all this. Clover uses music to communicate with us, so what the hell.”
“What are we singing?” Owen wanted to know, and took a firm hold on her hand and on Sonya’s as Astrid Poole, a hand pressed to the bleeding wound, staggered down the steps.
“I can’t think of every damn thing.”
“Are we pissed?” Trey demanded, and let that fury ride as the man he’d loved like a second father tumbled down the steps.
“Damn right.” Tears might’ve fallen, but Sonya repeated, “Damn right we’re pissed.”
“Then try this.” He lifted his voice over the cries, the weeping, the howling. “Keep you in the dark, you know they all pretend.”
His voice, which had once led a high school garage band, rang true as Owen’s joined it.
Digging for lyrics, Sonya came in on the verse with Cleo. “Send in your skeletons.”
It sure as hell fit the moment, she thought as they sang words of defiance and challenge. Words with no fear.
Lights flickered on and off; doors slammed. But slowly, gradually, the sounds of torment lessened.
When they reached the bridge, and she sang about being the hand that would “take you down,” she meant it.
By the time they finished, the house had gone quiet. No one lay at the base of the stairs; no one swayed from a rope above them.
“Foo Fighters.” Owen gave Trey a fist bump. “Inspired choice.”
“I figured ‘The Pretender’ was a solid choice because that’s all Dobbs is. A pretender trying to be mistress of the manor.” He brought Sonya’s hand to his lips. “You okay, cutie?”
“I will be.” Since Yoda pawed at her legs, she bent down to pet him. “You had a time of it, didn’t you? All you guys had a hell of a time.”
“So did my girl,” Cleo said as the black cat wound between her legs, then Owen’s. “They all might want a little fresh air. I could use it myself.”
“Just leave the door open,” Sonya suggested, “let the air in. I’ll clean up the glass.”
“I’ve got it,” Trey told her. “Stick with Cleo.”
As Sonya herded Yoda, Trey’s Mookie, Owen’s Jones outside withCleo and the cat, Trey walked back to the kitchen for a broom. When he returned, Owen stood looking down where they’d seen Collin.
“You saw him fall.”
Owen nodded. “Yeah. I had this sick feeling maybe he’d just taken the leap, tired of living without Johanna. Or worse, that Dobbs did it to him.”
“He tripped. I had the same sick feeling, but he tripped. He was half-asleep it looked like, not real steady.”
“He’d had that cold deal for a few days.”
“Yeah, so not real steady. But something startled him. I think he saw—”
“Johanna,” Owen finished. “At the bottom of the stairs. Whether he really saw her, or imagined it, remembered finding her that way, it unbalanced him just enough.”
“I don’t think it was Dobbs. He just lost his footing, and he went down.”
