Stars of Fortune

until the men could walk comfortably upright. Noting Sawyer kept Annika close, Sasha decided she didn’t have to worry about their playful teammate.

“It’s bigger than I imagined,” Sasha said, and nearly jumped as her voice echoed.

Bigger, she thought, and darker.

The walls widened, offered two chambers.

“Which way?” Bran asked her. “What does your instinct tell you?” he added when she hesitated.

“To the right. But—”

“To the right it is.”

“Hold on.” Riley dug chalk out of her pack, marked the wall of the chamber. “Always good to know where you’ve been.”

The chamber opened, higher and wider yet. Stalactites, stalagmites, and the columns they formed when they met glimmered in the light in golds and reds and umbers.

“Like jewels,” Annika said.

“Different minerals in the stone.” Riley studied the area. “But I’ll give you pretty here.”

Sasha played her light over a column, moved to it. “You need to see this. It looks like a woman. Look, her head, shoulders, body, all beautifully proportioned. Her face—eyes, nose, mouth. It’s not painted or carved. How could the stone have formed this way?”

She stood, long, dark hair, lithe form in flowing robes. Her eyes looked down, as if watching them. One hand, lifted, gestured to the back of the cave. The other held a globe.

“No way that’s a natural formation,” Riley said. “It had to be made.”

“It’s not painted,” Sasha repeated.

“There are other ways.” Bran aimed his light where the figure pointed. “There’s a ledge there, and an opening above it.”

“I’ll go in, scout it out,” Sawyer began, then caught the movement. “Riley.”

“It’s what I do,” she reminded him, and boosted herself onto the ledge and through.

“Hell. All of us then. Stay close,” he ordered Sasha.

Annika went in behind them, glanced back at the stone figure. “I don’t like her,” she murmured as Sawyer pulled up the flank.

They crawled for about ten feet, where it suddenly occurred to Sasha she might be a little claustrophobic after all. Then Riley called out.

“Another chamber, and a big one. There’s a drop, about three feet.”

Sasha heard the scrape of boots on rock, then the thud of a landing.

“I’ll have you,” Bran said before he dropped lightly into the dark. With his flashlight showing her the way, he held up a hand for hers. “Relax your knees,” he warned her.

She took the leap, caught her breath.

Before Bran could turn to offer Annika a hand, she’d jumped down gracefully.

Not dark, Sasha realized, or not completely. A light came from somewhere, pale and slightly . . . off. But it showed her the size of the cave, the smoothed teeth of rock stretching toward the floor, the others that soared up from it. All red, she thought, all red as blood.

A weight dropped on her chest, and her head swam.

“Don’t.” She reached out as Riley approached a formation that resembled a raised table. “Don’t touch it. Dark deeds done.”

“Riley,” Bran said sharply. “Touch nothing.”

In silent assent, Riley lifted her free hand, playing the light over the table stone. “There’s writing carved here. Ancient Greek.”

“Bones. Human bones piled over here.” Sawyer turned from them.

“Can you hear them screaming?” Sasha fisted her hands over her ears. “The children. She craved the children. The youth. The innocence.”

“I’m getting her out of here.”

“Wait, just wait,” Riley snapped at Bran. “I can read this. ‘In blood taken. In blood given. So she may live, so she may rise. In the name of Nerezza.’”

As she spoke the name, came a stirring, the dry rustling overhead.

“Just bats. Don’t panic.”

Riley’s warning came seconds before the screams, and the dark flood of wings.

Instinctively Sasha covered her head and face, curled up to make herself smaller. She felt the spidery wings brush her hair, shuddered.

Just bats, she told herself. Just bats.

She gasped at the quick pain as something sliced her arm. Grabbing it, she felt the warm, wet flow of her own blood.

“They bite!”

“They’re not just bats.” Riley pulled a gun from the holster snugged at the small of her back. “Run.” She shot one flying toward her face, and the sound crashed through the chamber.

Echoed by another as Sawyer fired another gun.

Blood fell on the ground, splattered on the altar.

And the ground shook.

Bats circled, looking down with hungry, somehow human eyes.

She formed out of the dark. The black robe swirled around her, and her hair, dense as midnight, curled in sleek coils around her face.

The face formed in the stone, and she smiled with terrible beauty.

“I have waited.” While the bats swooped and squealed, she lifted her hands. In one she held the glass ball. “I have watched.”

Her voice rang over the chaos, over the ring of bullets, of shouts and screams. Armed with only her flashlight, Sasha swung out to defend herself, saw Sawyer pivot to take aim at a bat diving toward Annika.

In a liquid blur of movement, Annika flipped back, pushed off with her hands and sent the bat smashing into the cave wall with a powerful thrust of her legs.

“Your blood.” She stepped off a pedestal, bent gracefully to run her finger through the blood that had dripped from Sasha’s arm to the cave floor. “It is warm,” she said as she licked it delicately from her finger as she might a dab of rich chocolate or cream.

“Your power is strong and . . . tasty. Through your blood I will drink that power. Through that power the path to the stars.”

Trapped, fighting to avoid fangs, claws, wings, Sasha stumbled back only to find herself pressed against the wall.

Across the chamber, Riley shouted, fired. But the bullets passed through the figure walking toward Sasha.

Something gripped her mind, something cold and fierce. She fought to pry it loose, felt it give, just a little.

“Very strong.”

Now that same force, the cold and fierce, gripped her throat, cutting off her air. All she felt was her own fear, and pushing against it dark hate, bottomless greed.

“Come with me, and live.”

Lies. The mother of lies. Nerezza.

Something—someone—leaped out of the shadows. A sword flashing silver in the dim red light. It cleaved through the swarming bats, severing them. As if through water, Sasha heard someone shouting.

“Get out! Go.”

“Give me what I want.” Nerezza loomed closer. “Or I will crush you, and all you love.”

“Not today.” Bran shoved Sasha behind him. While she gasped in breath, choked it out again, he threw up both his hands. Lightning bolted from them, blinding white.

Nerezza threw up an arm to shield her eyes, and from her came a roar more beast than human.

“Get her out!” Bran shouted. “Get her out of here. This won’t hold long.”

The bats swirled up, reformed, and like a great winged arrow came at him. The swordsman thrust, hacked, sent severed bodies tumbling to the ground while bullets pierced more.

“Get her out.” Bran’s voice, ice cold, snapped out. “Get them all out.”

The swordsman grabbed Riley, all but tossed her into the tunnel. He caught Annika as she finished a series of flips that sent bats tumbling. “Go!”

“Get Sasha,” Sawyer ordered, and ranged himself beside Bran. “I’m not leaving you, man.”

“Then get ready to move.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw the swordsman lift Sasha under one arm, glance back with a kind of fierce regret, then boost her with him into the tunnel.

“Go when I say,” Bran said. “There won’t be time to hesitate. I’m right behind you. My word on it.”

“If you’re not, I’m coming back.”

Bran felt Nerezza pushing back against his power, knew he didn’t have enough. Not here, not yet.

“Now. Go now!” he shouted at Sawyer, then heaved both bolts to the ground. The explosion rocked the chamber, filled it with wild light, thick smoke.

Understanding that fierce regret, he dived into the tunnel behind Sawyer.

“Don’t stop,” he ordered. “I don’t know how long a reach she has.”

The rock shook under them. Contrary to orders, Sawyer paused after he jumped out of the tunnel until Bran came out behind him. White smoke curled out of the opening.

“I’d say you’ve got a pretty damn long one. Nice work,” he added as they ran for the mouth of the cave.

Just outside the mouth, the man and his sword stood guard with Riley, arguing bitterly.

“That’s a sword, this is a gun. Guess who wins.” She swiped at the blood on her face, smeared more from the cuts on her hand. “I don’t want to shoot you, but you can bet your ass I will if you don’t get out of my way. I’m going back for my friends.”

“If you shoot me, you’re going to piss me off.” Then he turned when he heard running footsteps. “They’re coming,” he said, and stepped aside.

The minute they stepped clear, Riley punched Bran in the chest—though she pulled it. Then she threw her arms around both of them. “Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch. Don’t ever push me out like that again.” She dragged Sawyer’s head down, kissed him soundly on the mouth, then took Bran’s head in turn. “You’ve got some ’splaining to do.”

“This isn’t the time or place.” He patted her cheek, nudged her aside to go to where Annika sat on the ground beside Sasha, gently tending her wounds with Riley’s first-aid kit.

He crouched down, stroked a finger down her cheek, then over the raw, red bruising around her throat. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you more quickly. I’m sorry she hurt you.”

“Who are you?”

“What I’ve told you. Perhaps a bit more.”

“Her nice shirt is ruined, but the cuts aren’t very bad.” Annika wound a bandage around the long gash in Sasha’s arm. “But she is shocked.”

“In shock,” Riley corrected. “She got the worst of it. It was going way south before you stepped in with the light show. We just couldn’t hold our own.” She glanced back at Sawyer. “But nice shooting, Tex.”

“Back at you.”

“Who the hell are you people?”

They looked back at the newcomer. He’d housed his sword in the sheath he wore on his back and stood, legs spread, face scowling.

Just as Sasha had depicted him, in detail, in one of her sketches. The breeze caught at his black, disordered sweep of hair, tossing it around a face that might have been carved with razors. The high slash of cheekbones, the sharply sculpted, unsmiling mouth, the long, patrician blade of nose. His eyes were fierce and burning green.

Riley ran a measuring gaze over him, from the scarred boots that laced up to midcalf, the long legs in well-worn jeans, the blood-splattered shirt over a broad torso.

She pushed to her feet. “Riley Gwin, archaeologist; Sawyer King, dead-eye; Annika Waters, adorable ass-kicker.”

“Aww,” Annika said, delighted.

“Sasha Riggs, seer. And Bran Killian, magician. To say the fucking least. And who the hell are you?”

“McCleary. Doyle McCleary. And if you lot hadn’t been in the way, I might have had the bitch at last.”

“Fat chance,” Riley tossed back.

“We can have a fine argument about all of it, away from here. Do you mind?” Bran asked as he tapped Sasha’s backpack. When she shook her head, he reached in and found, as he’d thought he would, the sketch of the six of them.

Rising, he walked over to Doyle. “First, I’ll thank you for the assist. Sasha was hurt, and I don’t know if I could have held the bitch and gotten everyone out safe without it. As to who we are, well, there’s this.” He offered the sketch. “We’re a team, and you’d be the last of us.”

“Who drew this?”

“I did.” Sasha’s voice came hoarsely through her abused throat. “Weeks ago.”

“How did—”

“Not now,” Bran interrupted. “We’re all of us bloody and battered. We have a place where we can talk. Private.”

“How the hell are we going to fit him in the jeep?” Riley wondered.

“I have my own way of getting around.” Doyle looked at all of them, back at the cave. Shook his head. “I’ll go with you, and talk about this.” He handed the sketch back to Bran. “Then we’ll see.”

“Fair enough.”

Bran went back to Sasha, started to lift her. She pushed his hands away. “I can walk.” She got to her feet. She might have been chilled and queasy, but she could damn well walk.

To prove it, she started back toward the track.

“Yeah, some ’splaining.” Riley patted Bran’s arm, then went after Sasha.

“She didn’t know you’re a wizard?” Doyle commented.

“No. I hadn’t found the right time to tell her, or the others.”

Doyle gave what might have been a sympathetic grunt, then walked away.

“She’ll come around.” Sawyer reached out a hand to help Annika to her feet. “You’ve got some wild moves, Anni. I really liked the one where you ran halfway up the wall, flipped backward, then did a handspring.”

“It’s fun. I don’t like to fight.”

“Maybe not, but you’re good at it.”

When they followed the others, Bran looked after them, then back at the cave. His white smoke blocked the mouth, for now, but was already beginning to thin. It told him he had a great deal of work yet to do.

He hefted his pack back into place as he watched Sasha walk—limping a bit, he noted—down the rough track.

A great deal of work yet, he thought, in several areas.





CHAPTER EIGHT




Doyle’s way of getting around turned out to be pulled off into the brushwood well down the trail. As he brought it out, Riley fisted her hands on her hips.

“Classic. Harley Chopper. Twin Vs?”

“That’s right.”

“Bet she moves.”

Like his boots, the bike showed some battle scars—and like its owner, looked muscular and tough.

“The dragon!” Annika pointed to the red dragon, wings out, talons curled, painted on the side of the engine. “You ride the dragon. Sasha said.”

“Yeah. Where am I riding it?”

“Just west of Sidari,” Bran told him. “It would be easier if you followed us in.”

“All right. That yours?” he asked, gesturing to the jeep farther down.

“It is.”

“Can I ride the dragon, too?”

Doyle hesitated, then shrugged. “I hate saying no to a beautiful woman, so I won’t.” He swung a leg over, nodded to Annika. “Hop on.”

Sawyer hesitated. “You have to hold on to him,” he told Annika. “And lean into the turns—not against. Just lean into them a little. Okay?”

“Okay.” She got on behind Doyle, and laughed when he turned on the engine. “It roars!”

“Hold on to him,” Sawyer repeated, then quickened his steps to catch up to the others. “She’ll be all right.”

“I don’t think we just came through that little experience for her to take a header off a bike.” Riley got behind the wheel. “Relax.”

“Take the front.” Bran got into the back. “You’re pissed, and I won’t argue about it,” he said to Sasha as Riley navigated down the excuse for a road. “I’ll explain once we’re back at the villa and settled down some.”

“I just want to sleep.” And turning away from him, closing her eyes, Sasha surprised herself by doing just that.

* * *

She woke, headachy, her throat burning, her arm throbbing, when Riley bumped up the road to the villa.

When she got out, found her legs shaky, she wanted to crawl back into sleep.

“I need to clean up. You can start without me.”

Bran took her arm. “Sasha.”

She yanked free. “I can feel her on me. I need a shower.” Shaky or not, she got her legs moving, rushed straight into the house.

“Give her a little space,” Riley advised, giving the welcoming Apollo a quick rub. She glanced over toward Doyle as Annika jumped off the bike. “Look, we’ll get some food first, give her time to settle.” She looked down at her hands. “I want to clean up some myself.”

“Fine. We’ll all have a nice wash.”

“I’ll take mine down at the beach,” Sawyer decided.

“Oh, yes, a swim! I’ll go with you.”

“Great. Grab your suit.”

She looked blank. “My suit?”

“Bathing suit.”

“Oh, yes. I have one.” She dashed into the house, and Sawyer went up the terrace steps.

“What’s her story?” Doyle asked Bran.

“We’ve a lot of stories among us. If you’d wait a half hour. We’re a bloody mess, so we’ll do better cleaned up, and getting some food. There are two rooms left, and you can have your pick.”

“I’m a long way from staying.”

“That may be, but you’ve bat blood and guts and Christ only knows on you same as the rest of us. You can use the shower, do what you do after we talk. I’ll show you which rooms are left, and you use whichever you like.”

“I wouldn’t mind a shower.”

“Come inside, and you can have the two-penny tour along the way.”