“Not a day goes by she doesn’t try to get inside me.” She reached up to the necklace Bran made for her, rubbed the protective stones. “The gods have nothing but time, do they?”
“Gods and immortals,” Riley commented. “But the rest of us? Not so much.”
“So we keep looking.” When Annika slipped her hand in his, Sawyer squeezed it as he spoke. “Until we hit that last place. It’s here, and I’m not going to complain about not having to fight to the freaking death for a week or two while we search.”
Couldn’t they see five stood on one side, and Doyle alone on the other? Because she could and did, Annika walked to him. Disarmed him by wrapping her arms around him in a hug.
“You’re angry because you have no one but friends to fight with.”
“Maybe a little pissed off he has friends.” Riley smirked at him. “And one of them kicked him in the balls.”
“Maybe. And maybe we haven’t found the last place because we’re looking in the wrong one. Not the island, I’ll concede that. Seer and magic compass say Capri, it’s Capri. But maybe it’s not in the water, not in a cave. We haven’t assessed other possibilities. You said in the water, of the water,” he said to Sasha. “But what about fountains, wells, underground springs? Bays, coves, inlets?”
“The Bay of Sighs.” Sasha’s eyes went deep. “Lost between what is, what was, what will. There abides beauty without end, and regret. Are you worthy to pass between? The truest of hearts, the purest of spirits? Sighs for those accepted. Sighs for those turned away. Hope, never quenched for redemption. And the song sings from the star to guide you.”
Sasha let out her own sigh. “They’re waiting for us to find it.”
“Who?” Doyle demanded. “Where?”
“I don’t know. I can feel . . . something waiting, hoping. But I don’t have the answers, I’m sorry.”
“Neither do I,” Riley said. “I’ve been digging on Bay of Sighs, but I haven’t found anything yet. I’ll keep looking, try different angles. A parallel world, maybe? A time shift—which would be Sawyer’s deal. I’ll try some other resources.”
“As will I,” Bran said. “It may be someone in my family knows something of it, or knows someone who might. Meanwhile, we search and eliminate.”
“We’d better toss some breakfast together and get down to the boat.” Riley paused, pulled out her phone when it signaled. “Hold on. It’s my Malmon contact.
“This is Gwin,” she said as she walked away.
“I can help you with breakfast because Riley is busy.”
Watching Riley, Sasha nodded. “Let’s get to it.” And headed inside with Annika.
By the time Riley came in for coffee, Sasha was flipping the last slice of French toast on a platter beside a heap of bacon.
“What did you find out?”
“I’ll tell it all at once. Thanks for taking my KP, Anni.”
“I don’t mind. I like to make the fruit bowl.”
“Looks good, smells good. I’ll report while we eat.”
She didn’t waste time filling her plate or filling the rest in.
“Malmon’s still in London, but he’s booked a villa—big-ass villa, overlooking Marina Grande. Degli Dei.”
“Villa of the gods,” Doyle translated.
“Fate’s little wedgie, right? He took it for a month—doubling the asking price as incentive. His tenancy starts in three days. Word is he’s enlisted John Trake.”
“I don’t know that name,” Sawyer said.
“I do. Formerly Colonel Trake, United States Army, Special Forces. Black ops. Dishonorably discharged about seven years back, quietly, when he went way off the reservation. Got to like killing a little too much, and didn’t worry about collateral damage, even when it included his own men, unarmed civilians, children. Trake’s bringing along Eli Yadin.”
“That name I do know. Yadin was along for the ride in Morocco. Mossad—formerly, I think,” Sawyer added.
“You think correctly. He got a little too wild and crazy for them, and you have to be pretty wild and crazy to shock Mossad. He’s an assassin, but he specializes in torture. One more name. Franz Berger. Hunter, tracker, sniper—of both the four- and two-legged variety of mammals.”
“How confident are you in your source?” Doyle asked her.
“Completely. She’s with Interpol, and believe me, Malmon and the others on that list are very much on Interpol’s radar. They’re as interested in what he’s putting together as we are.”
“We could do without blipping on Interpol’s radar ourselves,” Bran pointed out.
“Then we’ll have to be careful. We’ve got a few days. I’m thinking why don’t we check out Malmon’s digs here on Capri? Say tonight, when everything’s nice and quiet.”
“A little B and E?” Sawyer forked a bite of French toast. “Sounds like a good time. You know, if I could get my hands on a few things, I could put a few bugs together.”
“How do you put bugs together?” Annika asked. “Why would you want to make bugs?”
“Listening devices,” he explained. “We call them bugs. We go in, case the place, plant a few where it seems most logical. It could give us a leg up.”
“It could. First? You can make bugs?”
He smiled at Riley. “I’m handy.”
“Okay, second. He’s bound to sweep for them.”
“I could help there.” Bran considered. “A spell to hide them from an electronic sweep. I could work that out.”
“More handy, and I’ll make three.” Riley poured more coffee. “Tell me what you need, Dead-Eye—and give me options. I’ll tug some lines. But it may take a day.”
“I’ll make you a list, we can break and enter tomorrow night. Three days,” Sawyer calculated. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, find the star before he gets here.”
“And if not?” Sasha looked around the table at the five people she’d come to trust above all others. “We do whatever we have to do to protect the star and each other.”
Sawyer made his list; Riley tugged her lines. It made for a later start than planned, but Sawyer figured if he could put together a few bugs, give them some insight into Malmon’s plans, it would be more than worth losing an hour in the water.
As he grabbed his gear, Annika stepped to the doorway of his room.
“I need to speak to you.”
“Sure.” But when she came in, closed the door behind her, he stopped what he was doing. “Serious?”
“Important. In Sasha’s painting, you’re wounded.”
“We’ve all been wounded in this little adventure, Anni. It looked like Doyle took a hit, too, so—”
“He can’t die.”
“And I won’t.” Reading the worry in her eyes, he went to her, took her hands. “I’ll get us out of there.”
“It’s hard for you to travel with so many. Please, don’t lie to soothe me. I won’t be soothed with lies.”
“Not hard so much. It’s tricky. But hey, I got us here, right?”
“It would be tricky—more tricky—when you’re wounded?”
“Annika, there’s no point worrying about that.” Now he ran his hands up her arms, held her by the shoulders. “I’ll get us out, and safe. You have to trust me.”
“I trust you. All that I am trusts what you are. But you’ll be hurt. You and Doyle—he can’t die but he feels pain. I’m not hurt in the painting, and I’m of the sea.”
“Okay.”
“I can get away from the men, from the sharks. I can—the word is distract—until you get away with the others, then—”
“Forget it.” A lick of temper had him tightening his grip on her.
“You must listen!” Temper slapped against temper. “If the tricky is too hard, you can trust me. I can get away without the traveling. You take the others, leave me to—”
“I’m not going to leave you. I’d never leave you. No.” He snapped it out before she could speak again. “If you think I would, if you think I’d even cons
ider it, you don’t know me.”
“Do you understand, I could get to the boat, my way, almost before you could, yours?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving you behind, not today, tomorrow, whenever the hell that painting becomes reality. Not anywhere, not anytime.” Because he read something in her eyes—she’d suck at poker—he released her shoulders to take her face in the same firm grip. “And don’t think you can pull away far enough so I can’t connect. That’s not happening either, and you’d just make it harder for me.”
“I don’t want to make it hard. I want you safe.”
“I will be, and so will you.” He tipped her head back, just a little, laid his lips on hers. Quiet, soothing. At first.
Then she wrapped around him, surrounded him, and he lost himself in the warmth and wanting. He pressed her back against the wall, let himself take, let himself savor what she gave, let himself savor what she made him feel in his blood, in his bones.
The three rude bangs on the door barely registered.
“Sawyer! Get your hands off the girl,” Doyle ordered. “We’re moving.”
“We have to go.” Reluctantly, almost painfully, Sawyer took his hands off the girl.
“Why don’t you have sex with me?”
“What?” He took a step back, as if from a live grenade. “What?”
“Your sex part gets hard for sex, but you don’t ask for sex. I don’t know if I’m allowed to ask for sex. I don’t know the rules of this.”
Because she gestured toward him—it—he had to fight an urge to cross hands over his groin. “I haven’t . . . It’s not that I— Rules.” He jumped on that concept. “There are rules. Lots of complicated rules. We should talk about them. Later. We need to go.”
“You’ll explain the rules?”
“I . . . Yes, probably. Later.” He grabbed his pack, opened the door. But oddly still couldn’t suck in a full breath. “But now, we have to go. Lost stars, worlds in peril, the evil mother of lies. You know, the usual.”
“When I know the rules, we can lie together in my room. My bed is larger.”
“Well, that’s an idea all right.” Hastily, he slung the pack over his shoulder, and careful to keep one hand on the open door, grabbed hers with the other. “Let’s go.” He pulled her out of the room, kept going until they were outside where the rest waited.
He managed to separate himself enough to mutter to Sasha. “Distract her. I need to talk to Doyle and Bran.”
“Well, I—”
Since Sawyer already moved ahead until he caught up with Doyle’s faster pace, Sasha slowed a bit, pointed. “Oh, look. A butterfly.”
The comment brought a puzzled look from Riley, but caused Annika to stop and admire long enough to give Sawyer some distance.
“Listen,” he said to Doyle, “it wasn’t all about hands.”
“I don’t need to hear about the rest of your body parts.”
“Not what I mean. I need to talk to you and Bran—and the other women—about this harebrained idea Anni had about the painting, and how we need to watch her in case I didn’t talk her out of it.”
He glanced back, casually, gauged he had enough room if he made it quick. And signaled to Bran.
Annika didn’t mind walking with her two friends. She thought, perhaps, women would be less shy and nervous about sex.
“Can you tell me the rules of sex?”
“Rules?” Riley responded. “What rules?”
“I don’t know them, not here. Sawyer says there are many, and complicated rules. I don’t see why they should be complicated, but I can learn them. I like to learn.”
“Complicated.” Riley snorted. “I say simple. My top three? Both parties willing, available, and clean.”
“Those are very simple.” And very satisfying. “Your rules mean Sawyer and I can have sex.”
“I’m still trying to work out why he hasn’t jumped you yet.”
“Riley.” Sasha rolled her eyes. “Different rules for different people. Or not rules so much as . . . sensibilities, and it’s not always easy to explain.”
Riley ticked off on her fingers. “Willing, available, clean.”
“An important foundation,” Sasha agreed. “We really need a little more time and privacy,” she added as they passed people on the road.
“But you’ll explain, so I’ll learn.”
“We’ll do that.”
“Thank you! Then Sawyer and I can have sex like you and Bran. I’m sorry you can’t have sex,” she said to Riley.
“You and me both, sister.”
CHAPTER NINE
They focused on the eastern side of the island, diving the inlets and deep caves. Annika heard no sighs, no songs. Only once did she feel something in the water large enough to be human or shark.
But it was only another pair of divers—a man and a woman—more interested in each other, it seemed to her, than in the sea life.
After the second dive, she led the way back to the boat. She would be vigilant now until they had passed through Sasha’s painting, and all come out whole and safe again.
She pulled herself up, as always happy to take off the flippers, so awkward and odd, she had to wear when she had the legs.
Sasha came up behind her, then Sawyer. To be useful, Annika opened the chest with cold drinks. Sasha would want water, but Sawyer and Riley like the Cokes, and—
As she took out bottles, a bird swooped down to perch on the rail. She glanced over, smile ready.
Then carefully set the bottles down again, straightened.
“You aren’t a bird.”
Sasha, busy unzipping her wet suit, looked over. “Sorry, what?”
“This is her creature.”
The bird didn’t stir, though it turned its deformed head, stared with glinting yellow eyes as Sawyer reached into his pack for his gun.
“Don’t shoot it.” Sasha spoke in a whisper. “Wait for Bran, wait for the others.”
As Riley pulled herself on board, a second bird dropped onto the rail. “We’ve got company.” Riley pulled her knife from its sheath.
The birds were the size of pigeons, but with bodies sinewy, almost shriveled, and wide heads that turned front to back like owls’. The pair sat silently, and a third slid down to perch beside them. Their eyes, sickly yellow, stared unblinking. Oily black feathers remained tucked tight.
Bran dropped down on deck, angled his head as, behind him, Doyle pulled his knife.
“She sends this?” Dark amusement moved over Bran’s face as he studied the birds. “Her harbingers? To strike fear in us? This is what comes from her?”
Sasha turned, pressed a hand to her head, held the other out, a signal to wait. “Come and see. So it says on the book of your god. And I looked, it’s written, and behold a pale horse: And his name that sat on him was Death, and hell followed with him. So I send a pale horse and a rider. This is your death to come. This is your hell to follow. My birds will pick clean your bones, and my dogs will lap your blood.”
She shook her head fiercely as Bran started toward her. “Wait. Wait.” Eyes shut, she breathed deep, and when she opened her eyes again, they burned like fired crystals. When she spoke, her voice came strong to echo over the water.
“And we say, you will never hold the stars. Send your horse, your rider, send your worst, and we will bear it down, all down. And you with them until you age and whither and weaken. We are your death, your destruction. Come and see!” Sasha threw her head back, shot her arms down, fingers spread. “Come and see!”
The birds screamed, spread wings, and flew toward Sasha.
Annika threw up an arm, shielding Sasha’s face, blasting out with her bracelet even as Bran threw bolts of hot blue at the remaining two.
Their bodies went to fetid black smoke.
“I hurt her.” On a shaky, bewildered laugh, Sasha once again pressed her fingers to her temple. “I hurt her. I felt her pain. I hurt her as much as, no, more, more, than she hurt me.”
 
; “Your nose bleeds,” Annika murmured, and dabbed gently with a towel.
“It’s okay. It’s all right.” With eyes glittering with tears and triumph, Sasha looked at Bran. “It’s all right, so’s hers. I did it.”
“Fáidh.” Overwhelmed, and not a little shaken, he pulled her to him, held her close. “A ghrá. Sit now, sit.” Even as he spoke, he drew her down to cradle her on his lap. “She needs water.”
“I’m all right.” The laugh came again, a little steadier. “Can’t you see? I’m all right. I heard her scream in pain, in fury. And maybe, yes, I could use something for the headache, but I beat her. I beat her back, Bran. I was in her head.”
“Here now, let me take this.” Gently, he laid his fingers on her temples, ran his hands over her skull. “Give me the pain, and it’s gone.”
“Drink a little.” Kneeling, Annika urged water on Sasha, then took her hand, pressed it to her cheek. “You were so strong, so brave.”
“I felt strong. I let her in. I knew it was time, knew I could do it.”
“Do you think I doubt you?” Bran kissed her. “You took a few years off my life, but I don’t doubt you.”
“She’ll come harder now.”
Riley spared Doyle a look. “And the buzzkill rides again.”
“She’ll come harder,” he repeated, “because now she knows the one she considered weak—and so did I—is so much stronger than she seems.”
“Damn skippy,” Annika said and made Riley laugh.
“You got that. So, she’s throwing Revelation at us? Four horsemen, end-of-the-world shit? She can bring it. Bran, I say you cook us up more hellfire and fucking brimstone. We’ll show her what hell is.”
“Malmon’s no pale rider.” Sawyer pulled out a Coke, tossed one to Riley, took one for himself, offered a bottle of juice to Annika. “You’re Quick Draw today,” he told her. “Anyway, Malmon’s a psychopath, a thug with money.”
“He’s more now,” Sasha reminded him.
“Whatever he is, you already said it. We’ll bear them down.” He guzzled some Coke. “Sasha Riggs, you just played mind games with a god, and won. Where are you going now?”
“I’m going to find the two remaining Stars of Fortune, then dance on a sunny beach. And we will.”
“To quote my girl here, damn skippy. But for now, I’d say diving’s done for the day.”
“I’m fine, Sawyer. Honestly.”
“Fine or not, Sawyer’s right. We’re done today.” Doyle moved into the wheelhouse.
“Let’s end it on a high note, Sash.” Dropping down beside her, Riley patted Sasha’s shoulder. “Besides, I want to get to shore, check and see if my contact’s come through with what Sawyer’s after.”
When she was sure Sasha was settled, Annika went over, sat beside Sawyer, took his hand. “I understood.”
“Understood what?”