Bay of Sighs

  “Windows over the trees—if somebody happened to look out just the right way at the right time.”

  “Oh.” With a little sigh, she lowered the tail into the water. And now he saw her legs lightly kicking. “I didn’t mean to, but it felt so good I forgot.”

  “It’s okay, just don’t . . . No, don’t get out.”

  He actually felt panic as she glided toward the shallow end, stood. That body—willowy and perfect and . . . wet. Water sparkled on her skin, diamonds on gold dust.

  She was killing him.

  “I—I’m going to get you a towel. Don’t get out without any . . . Just wait.”

  He hurried back inside. Coffee wasn’t going to do much for a throat that had gone bone dry at the way her hair slicked over those really, really pretty breasts.

  He tried counting backward by threes from a thousand, and still had to take a minute, adjust himself—only human—when he grabbed a pool towel from the utility room off the kitchen.

  When he came out again, she’d stayed obediently as she was.

  “You need to . . .” He wound a finger in the air. “Around. Then the dress.”

  He didn’t see anything but the dress, which meant she wouldn’t be wearing anything under the dress. And it wasn’t smart to think about that either.

  He stared at the lemon trees as he held the towel over the pool.

  “Why do women always cover their top half, and men don’t always?”

  “Because we don’t have . . . and you have.”

  “The breasts,” she said as she stepped out of the pool, wrapped the towel around herself. “Sometimes the maids wear shells over the breasts. But this is for fashion.”

  He risked a glance, relieved she’d covered everything. “Mermaid fashion?”

  “Yes. We like adornments, too. I made coffee.”

  “Yeah, good. Thanks.” He picked it up from the table, took a sip. She’d made it strong enough to fight the champ, but he had no problem with that. “If you’re going to swim, you really need to wear a suit and keep your legs on.”

  “I apology.”

  “No. No, don’t be sorry.” He risked another look. Now she stood in the dress, long hair wet and sleek as a seal. “It’s amazing. It’s beautiful. It must feel weird for you to swim without it.”

  “I like the legs.”

  “Yeah, they’re pretty great. Once we score a boat, we should be able to go out far enough, or you deep enough to tail it out when you want. But in the pool, broad daylight, it’s better if you don’t.”

  “For a few moments it was just morning, with the little pool of water in the sun, and the smell of the trees.”

  “One day it will be just morning.”

  She looked at him then, into his eyes. “You believe?”

  “Yeah. I believe.”

  “Then I can’t be sad. I’ll help you fix the breakfast, and I can set the table. What will you make?”

  “The way we’re supplied right now? Pretty much anything. What do you want?”

  “I can pick?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can you make—it’s not the pancakes because you . . .” She made a rolling motion with her fingers. “And put something delicious inside.”

  “Crepes.”

  “Yes! Can you make those?”

  “You got it.”

  She liked working in the kitchen. So many smells and colors and tastes. Sawyer said they’d make eggs and bacon, too, and the crepes would have peaches in them and honey over them so they’d be sweet.

  She helped him mix, and he showed her how to make the crepe, let her try one all by herself. As she did, Sasha came in.

  “Good timing. Everyone’s stirring around. God, it smells good in here.”

  “I’m making a crepe.”

  “Fancy.” Sasha walked over, put an arm around Annika’s waist, watched a moment. “And you’re doing a good job of it.”

  Sasha reached for a coffee cup. “Should I set the table?”

  “The table! I forgot to get the flowers. We need the plates and the glasses and the napkins, and—”

  “Why don’t I take out the plates,” Sasha said.

  With her bottom lip caught between her teeth, Annika nodded as she carefully slid the crepe onto a plate. “Did I do it the right way?”

  “Looks perfect,” Sawyer told her.

  “I need to get the flowers now.”

  As she dashed out, Sasha leaned back against the counter. “Never a boring tablescape with Annika.”

  “Maybe you can sort of explain to her about swimming naked, at least in the daylight.”

  “Was she?”

  “Unless you count the tail.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “No harm I could see, and she just got caught up. I think she got what I was telling her about it, but maybe, you know, another woman. I think, on Corfu, she went down to the beach early every morning, swam out, and under, way under, to give herself that . . . ritual, I guess it is. But here . . .”

  “I’ll make sure she understands. Do you need any help here?”

  “No, I’ve got it.”

  “Coffee, coffee, coffee,” Riley mumbled as she staggered in. She poured a mug, inhaled the scent, took a gulp. “Bang!” she said. “That’s coffee.”

  “It’ll put hair on your chest,” Sawyer said. “Oh, right, you just need the moon for that.”

  “You’re a riot.” She grabbed Annika’s crepe, folded it into her mouth, said, “Good,” around it.

  “Give me fifteen minutes, you’ll get better than good.”

  Sasha took plates outside, came back in for glassware, got caught up in a kiss as Bran came in. By the time she went back out, Annika was at work.

  She had the plates in a semicircle around a little tower of empty flower pots. From the top one spilled napkins in bright colors with folds and ripples. At the base of the flower blossoms and leaves, a few pretty stones formed a pool.

  “It’s a rainbow waterfall,” Sasha guessed.

  “Yes! And its water feeds the little garden. It’s water that blooms, so you can swim in the flowers.”

  “That’s a beautiful thought.”

  “It’s a happy place. The dark can’t go there. There should be a place, I think, where the dark can’t go.” She looked down at the bracelets circling her wrists—the magick Bran had fashioned for her. “A place where no one has to fight.”

  “We’ll push the dark back, Anni. It may be all we can do, but it matters.”

  “Yes, it matters. Friends matter. We friends will have a pretty breakfast on our first day of our quest for the Water Star.”

  With a rainbow waterfall.

  They spoke of practical things over the meal. Getting the lay of the land—and the sea. Divvying up the household chores.

  “We’re not as isolated here,” Bran pointed out. “We could use a basic cover story. Friends on holiday?”

  “Say a working holiday for me.” Riley scooped up eggs. “Sticking close to the truth always helps. I’m an archaeologist, doing a paper, some research. So questions I might ask are covered there. I’ve got more Italian than Greek, and can talk the talk. Anybody else?”

  “Io parlo italiano molto bene.” Doyle cut into a crepe.

  Riley’s eyebrows arched. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Sì. I’ve had considerable time for languages.”

  “That’ll be handy if we need another interpreter. I’m going to make some calls, tug some lines. We’re going to need a boat and diving gear.”

  “You wheel that deal,” Sawyer told her. “You’re good at it.”

  “One of my specialties.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to have a car or van on tap,” Bran pointed out. “We may need to go farther afield.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Might as well leave my bike inside where it is, unless we need it. I’ll set up a training area in the grove. We can use the trees for cover,” Doyle speculated. “Plenty of hills for hiking.”

/>   “I like hiking.” Annika ate the last of a honey-drizzled bite of peach. “Can we hike down to the beach?”

  “Maybe later,” Bran told her. “I have some work if Sawyer can help Doyle set up the training area.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Annika, you could help me while Sasha and Riley deal with the cleanup here. We want to replenish the medicines. You’ll make your calls,” Bran said to Riley, “work your own brand of magic.”

  “We need to go over the maps for this area,” Doyle pointed out. “And work out some strategy.”

  “Agreed. Could you do another assignment chart, Sasha?”

  “Right after KP.”

  “Okay, go team.” Riley clapped her hands together. “Let’s get started.”

  She liked working with Bran, not only because of his patience, but the delight of his magicks. She had no skill as a witch, but he’d shown her during their time on Corfu how to crush leaves or petals, how to measure.

  He could and did make weapons, like the potions of light and power that had defeated Nerezza and her beasts on Corfu. He could call the lightning and use it as skillfully as the others used gun or bow or sword. She had witnessed what he could do, and believed his power greater than any witch she’d known. Even greater than the sea witch or sorcerer.

  But he would spend much time on the healing arts as well. Though she understood some felt fear or illness at the sight of wounds and blood, Annika saw a need. And felt pride when Bran told her she had a skill for healing.

  She had no wish to be a warrior, though she accepted the war. Her weapons were her speed and agility—in and out of the water. And the bracelets that shot power or blocked it.

  When Sasha joined them, Annika made an excuse to leave them. Because they were in love, and time between lovers was precious. She wandered the house, familiarizing herself with its chambers—rooms, she corrected.

  Following Riley’s voice, she stepped into one flooded with light, where Riley paced and talked very fast on the phone in a mix of English and Italian.

  “Che cazzo, Fabio! What kind of deal is that? Two weeks minimum, and likely four or six weeks. Stronzate. Don’t try to hose me. I could go to a stranger and get a better rate. Okay, that’s what I’ll do. Oh, and I’ll be contacting your mother while I’m here. She and I really need to have a nice chat because I find my memory about that night in Naples is coming back. Same to you, amico.”

  She listened, listened, her smile going sharp and satisfied. “Quanto? Better, some better, but . . . I really miss talking to your mother. Oh, that’s for two weeks? Now you’re talking. That works, you keep the deposit either way. What’s that?”

  Riley threw back her head and laughed. “Baby, you wish I was squeezing your balls. Four-week minimum’s a deal. We’ll pick it up tomorrow. She’d better be seaworthy, Fabio, or remember how I pulled your ass out of the fire in Naples? I’ll be shoving it right back in. Ciao.”

  She swiped off the call, swaggered over to Annika. “High-five.”

  When Annika looked toward the ceiling, Riley laughed again. “No, no, slap my hand. It’s a high five. It’s a fucking A. We’ve got a boat, and I wrangled the cost down.” She rolled her shoulders. “I did squeeze the little asshole’s balls.”

  “What kind of balls?”

  Riley pointed at her crotch. “Those kind.”

  “Oh, yes. I know those kind. But how did you squeeze his balls when . . . It’s an expression.”

  “You’re catching on. The diving equipment was easy. Fabio’s cousin Anna Maria’s in charge of that, and she’s giving us rock-bottom rate. I’d have taken Fabio’s next-to-the-last rate if he hadn’t tried to squeeze my balls first. Anyway.” She shoved the phone in her pocket, dusted her palms together. “Done. And I’ve got the sister of a friend’s boyfriend who’ll lend us his van for gas and beer if we need it.

  “So, where’s everyone else?”

  “Sasha and Bran are up the stairs making magicks. I think Sawyer and Doyle are still in the grove for the training part.”

  “All right then. You need to put on pants.”

  “Pants.”

  “Yeah, those ones that hit about here?” Riley tapped the flat of her hand just above her knee. “The ones with all the pockets. And the tank you can tuck into them. I want to work on some of my moves, and you’ve got the best. And we’ll work on your hand-to-hand. But you can’t go doing flips in that dress, especially since there’s nothing under it.”

  “I like dresses better than pants.”

  “Maybe so, but when you go commando and do handsprings and flips, you’re flashing.”

  “Flashing?”

  “The girl parts, Anni. The parts we tend—right or wrong—to think of as private. Maybe we’ll get you some bike shorts. You could wear them under a dress.”

  “Bike shorts.”

  “We’ll look into it. But for now, go ahead and change. I’ll see if Bran can spare Sasha. She needs the work.”

  “She does better.”

  “Yeah, she does,” Riley agreed as they started upstairs. “You’re a good coach.”

  “Thank you. I like to help.”

  Pleased, even if she had to wear pants, Annika went to her room to change, and wound her hair into a long, thick braid.

  She left her windows open, and though she would go outside, took a moment to lean out, drink in the air, the fragrance, her view of the sea.

  On the narrow road below, she saw people walking up the steep, steep hill in boots and shorts. Maybe they were bike shorts, but she knew what a bike was, and they didn’t have one.

  She saw bushes and trees full of blooms, and, farther out, people on the sickle of beach, boats plying the blue water.

  Sometimes she liked to swim beneath boats, look up at their shadows and try to guess where they would go.

  But today she saw a woman walking slowly up the steep road and pushing a fat-cheeked baby in a . . . walker, runner . . . Stroller! A stroller. Plastic bags hung heavily off the sides of the stroller, and another bag crowded into its little basket.

  The baby laughed and clapped her chubby hands as the woman sang.

  Annika wished she could paint like Sasha. She would have painted the woman and the baby, laughing with the long, high road still ahead of them.

  The woman looked up, caught Annika’s eye. So Annika waved.

  “Buongiorno,” the woman called out.

  She had bits of languages, because she liked to listen and learn. “Buongiorno,” she called back. Not sure how to make the sentence, she mixed her languages together. “You and your bambina are bella.” Annika held out her hands. “Bella.”

  The woman laughed, angled her head. “Grazie, signorina. Grazie mille.”

  And singing again, the woman and her baby continued the steep climb.

  Her mood buoyed by them, Annika danced downstairs and outside to train for war.

  She saw Sasha and Riley on the strip of lawn between the pool and the lemon grove. Pretty plants and bushes added color at the edges, and the tall, slim trees formed a green wall.

  Not so much room, so they’d have to . . . practice smaller.

  Still she enjoyed watching Riley work with Sasha on the hand-to-hand. A punch, a pivot, a kick. Like a dance.

  After a short run, Annika executed a double handspring, landed soft, and mimed punching both of her friends with the backs of her fists.

  “Show-off.” Sasha grumbled it.

  “There’s not so much grass, but it’s very nice. You can practice your rolls, Sasha.” Annika rolled her hands to demonstrate. “Then the jump up.”

  “Double roll,” Riley decided. “Come up, side kick, backhand.”

  “Seriously?”

  “You need to start combining the flips and tumbles with the rest. You’re wicked good with a crossbow, pal, but we all know you can’t always fight at a distance. Agility, mobility, power. Right, Anni?”

  “This is right.”

  “Make her do it first.” Sasha
jabbed a finger at Riley.

  “You want me to do it first? I’m first.”

  Riley slapped her hands together, rolled her shoulders, flexed her knees a few times. Then she sprang forward, landing on her hands, tucked into a roll, a second roll, then pushed up, kicking one leg out to the right, her arm with its fisted hand to the left.

  Annika applauded.

  “Don’t encourage her,” Sasha mumbled.

  “You can do it, Sasha. Remember. Tight, tight.” Annika tapped a hand on Sasha’s belly. “Power there, power in your legs.”

  “Okay.” Shaking her arms, Sasha blew out a breath. “Okay. Tight, tight, power, spring, roll, kick. Oh, God.”

  She gave herself a short, running start, threw her body over for the handspring.

  Annika nodded, then winced, because while the spring was very good, the roll went off-center, the second roll more off-center. So when Sasha tried to heave herself to her feet, she landed on her face.

  “Damn it!”

  “Ten out of ten for the face-plant,” Riley decided.

  Sasha rolled over, gave Riley the beady eye.

  “You did the handspring very well.” Annika crouched down, rubbed Sasha’s shoulders.

  “Right.”

  “No, I think left. This is left, yes?” Holding up her left hand, Annika wiggled her fingers. “You did the handspring, but then you tipped to the left on the roll, and more left on the next. You had no center, so no balance. I’ll show you, slower than Riley.”

  She stood, didn’t bother with the running start but seemed to fold over like water from a pitcher.

  “Tight, tight in the center,” she said as she tucked, rolled. “Keep tight, knees go loose to push up.” Fluidly, she flowed up to her feet, shot one leg out, one arm. Held the pose like a statue.

  “Can I just throw rocks at the bad guys?”

  “Sometimes.” Annika smiled. “But you can do this. I’ll help you. Tight, tight,” she repeated. “Like squeezing. Try.”