CHAPTER NINETEEN

Though it ate more daylight, they opted to pack. They might have to travel quickly. Sawyer took Annika’s hand as she cheerfully folded dresses into her colorful bag.

“I need a few minutes.”

“Oh, Sawyer, I don’t think we have time for sex.”

“Not for that—though I really appreciate your mind just goes there. I need to ask you something.”

“You can ask anything of me.”

“I need you to tell me if—and I know it’s a big if—but if when we’ve done all we’ve been asked to do, done the duty we’ve been given, and if after that your elders and sea witch, and whoever’s in charge of the big picture, if they’d let you stay, let you stay on land, with me . . . would you?”

Seriously, with hints of sorrow, those mermaid eyes met his. “I would stay anywhere with you. You are my only, my own Sawyer, my love. But it can’t be. The legs are only borrowed. They’re mine until the quest is done, or because I had to tell you what I am, in three turns of the moon. Two now. They don’t wish me grief, or wish you grief, but it is beyond them to give me this.”

“Maybe Bran—”

“I asked.” For a moment, her gaze dropped to the ground. “I know I shouldn’t have, but after I knew you loved me, I asked. It is beyond him. He promised to do offerings, but he can’t break a spell done for the good, for the light. Even for love, for you, I can’t break my oath.”

“Okay. Okay.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Maybe I can do a Tom Hanks.”

“What is it to do a tomhanks?”

“No, it’s a name. Tom, first name, Hanks, last name. An actor. He did this movie where he fell for a mermaid.”

“Oh. I would like to see this.”

“Yeah, we’ll get to it. Anyway, she fell for him, too.”

“Yes, so it’s a good story.”

“But there were bad people.”

“Evil gods?”

“No, but bad people, and they would’ve hurt her, or worse. She couldn’t stay with him, so in the end, he jumped in the water after her. And she did something so he could stay with her. So he could live in the water with her.”

Gently, Annika kissed his cheeks, skimmed her fingers back into his hair. “It would be a pretty story. There is nothing I could do to make you live under the water. You are of the land.”

“Maybe the sea witch—”

“That you would think to do this for me makes my heart full of joy and tears. But she has no power to change you.” Because the tears threatened, she started to turn away. “We should pack now.”

“Okay, but I’ve got one more. Don’t cry, Anni, just listen to this one more possibility. The island where I took you. It’s kind of got a magick of its own, right?”

How she wished they wouldn’t talk of possibilities that could never be. “Yes. The water around it is sacred, and the land is important.”

“Right. And it’s not in the shipping lanes. We’re both connected to it. I could live there. I’m handy, so I could build a little house—I’m all about living on the beach. And you could live in the water there. We could be together. I could swim with you, and sit on the beach while you sat on the rocks. Talk to you, see you, touch you.”

Inside her breast her heart trembled and shook. “Your family.”

“Hey, I’ve got the compass. I can see them, bring them to see us—same with yours if they want. But the bottom line?” Eyes on hers, he skimmed his hands down her arms, up again. “Bottom line, Annika, you’re my only, too. I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not. And I’m not going to believe that we found each other, we’ve fought together, and done all we’ve been asked to do only to never be together. I’m not going to accept that. Would you stay with me—you in the water, me on the land?”

“I can’t give you young.”

“Annika, just give me you.”

“I have. I will. Yes, I will stay with you. I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not.” She threw her arms around him. “I will be yours, and you will be mine.”

Closing his eyes, he held on. “And that’s enough for anybody.”

“I love you with all I am.”

When he kissed her, they both forgot about packing and everything else until Sasha rapped sharply on the doorjamb.

“Sorry, but we’ve got to get everything downstairs and go over all the steps. It’s nearly four.”

“Sawyer is going to build a house on the island, and live there, and I can live in the water, so we can be together.”

“Love finds a way.” Touched, Sasha moved in to hug them both. “A good and loving way. And don’t think moving to some deserted island in the South Seas will stop us from visiting.”

“Counting on it,” Sawyer told her.

“But now, get moving. We’re getting antsy.”

“Five minutes.”

It took a little longer, but they hauled everything down, steered Doyle’s motorcycle in from the side room.

“At least I’ll be able to ride this again once we’re in Ireland.”

“I like riding the motorcycle.”

“Anytime, Gorgeous.”

“Until that happy day, we’ve got three hours and . . .” Riley checked her watch. “Thirty-two minutes until sunset. If we’re going to do this, we’d better do it.”

“One more thing. Sasha’s last vision.”

“Sawyer, no.” Alarmed, Annika clutched at him. “She is a god.”

“And Bran and Sasha took her down pretty hard in Corfu. This time it looks like it’s my turn. My risk, my choice—that’s what Sasha said, that’s what we explained to everybody. I’m making the choice, and I have to believe I can do it, buy us that time. But I’m going to need help.”

“Whatever you need, brother,” Doyle told him, “you’ve got.”

“The timing has to be close to perfect, and I need to get close enough to her to connect.”

“She could rip you to pieces.” At Riley’s words Annika turned her face into Sawyer’s shoulder. “Sorry, really, but we’ve got to be straight. Maybe we wait, take more time to plan it out.”

“It’s now. I’m sorry, too.” Sasha reached out to stroke Annika’s hair. “But it’s now. For the star, for the battle, for the risk.”

“She could rip me to pieces, but I’m banking she won’t, especially if Bran softens her up a bit.”

“And that I will, my word on it.”

“I get close enough, when she’s softened up some, I pull her into a shift, and when we’re clear, I disconnect. It can work.”

“You’ll be alone,” Annika stated.

“No.” He used her hand to tap his own heart. “Okay, everybody gear up—except for you.” He tipped Annika’s face, kissed her.

They strapped on the equipment Riley and Doyle had carted up from the boathouse—the hard way. And though it still made him wince, he waited while Annika tossed her pink dress aside.

“There may be a little jolt. I’ve never gone from solid ground to underwater.”

“And in 1742,” Riley added.

“Time’s set, just remember it’s a wilder ride than just a location shift. And when”—he deliberately didn’t say if—“Anni has the star, the trip back’s going to be just as wild. Stay close, stay together. The tighter we are, the easier it’ll be. Be ready.”

He put on his mask, adjusted it, slipped in his mouthpiece. With the underwater pistol on one hip, the diving knife in his belt, he took Annika’s hand.

With another look at his friends, Sawyer nodded. Closed his eyes. And activated both compass and watch simultaneously.

It had a kick, bigger than he’d expected. Then again, he’d only traveled simultaneously with one companion before this.

The air whistled, rushing by him, through him, around him as he gripped Annika’s hand, as he kept the connection with the others gripped tight in his mind.

The world turned, or so it seemed, revolving faster, faster, as years whizzed by like the air.

For a moment he thought he heard the song, and the sighs that blended with it. Then water swallowed him, swirled over him, slapped at him.

And dark fell deep.

Night, he thought, and a moonless night at that. Riley hadn’t taken any chances. And he hadn’t considered the lack of light in the cave.

He felt Annika’s hand still in his, and the brush of her tail against his legs. But the others . . .

A light glowed, suspended above Bran’s palm. When Bran waved a hand over it, the glow increased.

Relieved, Sawyer slowed his breathing, tried to orient himself.

Without sun or moon, with no light to reflect, the cave would be dark as a tomb, not that pretty, almost unearthly blue he’d seen in all the pictures.

But he could see Annika smile as she swam around them, as she nudged them all closer together.

And she tapped her ear.

Sawyer started to shake his head, but he did hear it. Faintly, a chorus of sighs, as if the water itself breathed them.

Still smiling, her eyes brilliant and beautiful, she gestured down. With a twist of her body, a liquid swirl of her tail, she swam straight down, and into the dark.

Stunned, he went with instinct, kicked hard after her. But in seconds, even with Bran’s light, he couldn’t see her.

She went deep, and oh, it was heaven to take the depths again. The sighs echoed around her now, and now she understood words hid in them.

We wait. We wait.

And in the songs lived pleas.

Forgive us. Redeem us. Free us. Embrace us.

The deeper she dived, the deeper her eyes. The dark of depths posed no obstacle. She could see the rocks, the statues made by men, and more as she swam, the shapes and shadows of those banished, those who waited, those who pleaded.

With sigh and song.

And she felt them, the brush of fingers as she moved through them. While their sorrows weighed on her, she could only follow the sighs and the faith.

The goddess waited. White in the dark sea, her face lovely and regal, her gown flowing down. She held one hand to her skirts, and the other lifted at her side. But there was nothing in that curved palm.

Help us. See us. Restore us.

I see you, Annika thought. I see you. I hear you.

She laid her hand in the hand of the goddess, looked into those stone eyes. A statue, she thought. And it wasn’t stone and carvings that held the star.

In the water, of the water.

As she said it in her head, all that surrounded her sighed it.

In the water, of the water. As was she.

Annika spread her arms, accepted, embraced. And began to spin.

I am of the water. I am the chosen from my world. I am the guardian. I am the redeemer. I am one who seeks. I am of the water.

She repeated it over and over in her head, spun faster and faster. She felt movement above her—Sawyer, her friends.

Of the water, to bring light to the dark. Redeemer, the Water Star waits. We wait.

I am of the water. The star is of the water. The goddess is of the water. From her hand to my hand.

As she spun, faster, faster, the water brightened, the light began to glow. Soft, soft, blue. Brighter, deeper, bluer.

As she had been born to, she lifted her arms, cupped her hands together. Above them, the water spun, glittered, warmed.

Above them, the star burst bright.

She laughed, pure joy, and around her the sighs filled with tears that echoed the joy.

Arms high, she began to rise, and the songs rang, rejoicing.

He watched her, heart thudding, the image from the portrait, but more brilliant, more stunning. With the star, blazing blue in the vee of her hands.

When she reached them, she seemed to fly, a glorious bird, higher, higher. And then spilling over, came back to them.

Back to him.

She held the star out to him, like an offering.

Gently, Sawyer closed her hands around it.

He slid an arm around her waist, looked to each of his friends. Together, guided by the blue, they surfaced in the cave.

He tore away his mouthpiece. “Anni.”

And crushed his lips to hers.

“You vanished, you scared me. You’re beautiful. You’re everything.”

“I had to go deep. Didn’t you hear the songs?”

“They tore at my heart,” Sasha said.

“You should take it.” Annika held the star out to Bran.

“When we get back. You’re made of magick, Annika. And we should go back, finish this.”

“Couldn’t we just take ten? I just want to swim out, see—”

Doyle grabbed Riley’s arm before she could. “Now.”

“Now,” Sawyer agreed. “Hold on to your hats.”

It took seconds in a whirling kick that seemed to punch them out of the water and onto the floor of the villa.

“Holy shit, Sawyer.”

A little wide-eyed himself, he grinned at Riley. “What a rush! Rock-in-a-slingshot time. It must’ve been the star. Swear to God it wasn’t me.”

“It’s so beautiful.” Annika looked down at it, glinting, glimmering, madly blue in her hand.

Sawyer looked down as well, not only at the star, but at Annika who sat, tail curled under her, on the floor.

“You may want to, you know, change. And—” He grabbed her dress. “Put this on.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot. It lives. It breathes.” She offered it up to Sawyer.

And it pulsed, without mass, but warm and real in his hands. “Whoa, I’ll say. Over to you.”

As Bran took it, Annika rose on her legs, shimmied into her dress. As Bran had with the Fire Star, he shielded it in a clear globe. “To protect, to respect, to shield, to hold.”

“We should do it quickly. She knows.”

With a nod at Sasha, Bran crossed to the painting. The rest gathered around him, washed in that blue light. “As before, we each lay a hand on the globe, all say the words. To protect this bright water, this pure light, I send it safe where no eye can see, no hand can touch, no darkness shadow.”

Power shimmered, swirled. The encased star pulsed its light, and that light spread over the house on the cliffs, turned the soft sky into brilliance. Then slipped into the painting. With a final flash of blue, it was gone.

“It’s quiet now,” Annika murmured. “And safe from her.”

“It will be safer—and stronger I think.” Bran held out a hand. The painting vanished. “Stronger now that two are together.”

“She’s fury.” Beside Bran, Sasha shuddered. “All fury and madness. She’ll rain fire, burn us to ash.”

“We should just go—you know—zip right to Ireland.” Glancing around, Riley shoved her wet hair back. “I’m always up for a fight, but this might be the time to retreat and regroup.”

“She’ll follow, and the fire rains there. It’s fire—I can feel the burn. It’s cold.”

“If it’s here or there, I want to take the shot.” In fact, Sawyer craved it. “I can buy us time, turn her around so she’ll have to find us again rather than just follow our trail. Either way, we need to suit up.”

Sawyer unstrapped the underwater gun. “And fight some fire with fire.”

“Fire with fire,” Bran agreed, but added a sharp smile, “and given all, I think, with water.”

“So we’re going to get hot and wet—sexual innuendo absolutely intended because, why not. Scuba gear under the pergola. I’ll have it picked up there.” Riley shrugged. “They already figure I’m way over-eccentric.”

Annika followed Sawyer to his old room where he’d left a change of clothes, his boots. His weapons. “She’s a god, Sawyer. She may not let you go.”

“I’m not going to give her a choice.”

“But she—”

“Listen.” He paused to take her shoulders, look into her eyes. “You need to trust me on this, like I trusted you in the cave. Okay, I had a minute of panic when you went down, when I couldn’t see you.”

And it had taken Doyle and Bran together to hold him back.

“But I pulled it together. Because I knew you were doing what you were meant to do, had to do. And would do. I need you to trust me, to believe in me. I need that or I can’t do it.”

“If I believe, it helps you?”

“All the difference in the world.”

“Then I believe.” She cupped his face, laid her lips on his, poured all she was into that one moment. “You have all my faith.”

“Then I can’t lose.”

He changed quickly, joined the others.

“You’ll be in the firestorm, and in the deluge,” Bran told them. “I’ll do what I can to send it up, away from you, but it’s going to be rough.”

“I like it rough.” Doyle drew his sword, sent Riley a glance. “Sexual innuendo intended.”

“Good one.” She drew her gun, gripped her knife.

“Keep her minions off me when you can.” Sawyer looked up, realized he didn’t need Sasha to tell him they were coming. Overhead, the sky already thrashed. “If she’s with them, and the seer says yeah, I need to get close enough to pull her in. I may need a toss-up,” he said to Bran.

“You’ll have it.”

The sky cracked open, shaking the world. And the bitter, flaming dark poured out.

“All my faith,” Annika told him.

Then they charged.

He dodged fire that speared out of the sky, lanced into the ground to sizzle. Whatever protection Bran had wound around the villa had that fire bouncing off—like striking a force field. And some of those fiery balls and lances ricocheted into the sharp wings of diving birds.

Yeah, a little of your own medicine, he thought, and took out a swarm with bullets.

Hot, spinning sparks spewed up, and he learned they had a nasty bite.

He fired, fired, slapped in fresh clips, fired. The world was fire and smoke, the blast of bullets, the slice of blade, the whoosh of bolts. And the lightning.

Then came the flood.

He’d been warned, Sawyer reminded himself as the force of Bran’s storm whipped over him. Wind and madly driving rain, lightning jagging through the dark.

He saw Annika’s bracelets flash, laid down a stream of shots over her head to destroy what came at her.

Spears of fire drowned in the rain, and the cool, clean wet soothed his burns. He caught the blur, thought Malmon. Fast, but not as fast as he’d been. Still healing, Sawyer thought as he took aim.

But the ground heaved up, knocked him back into a crawling fog that hissed and bit. He flipped up, for the first time really grateful for the dawn training. He nearly lost Malmon in the haze as that blur arrowed toward Sasha.

He gave a shout of warning, spun to shoot. But Bran’s lightning glanced off that blur, sent it spinning away. He caught a glimpse of Riley charging Doyle, and Doyle catching her foot in his hand, heaving up so she flipped high, firing at a circle of birds.

He wondered when the hell they’d worked that one out, then had no time to think.

She broke out of the dark, shocking the air so he felt the charge of it lift the hair on his arms, the back of his neck. Once again she rode the three-headed beast, but now wore some sort of armor, black as the night.

She heaved thunderbolts, flooded the rain with liquid fire that burned a vicious orange as it fought to slide through the storm.

Focused on Bran, he noted, as the rest rushed to circle around him. Take out our magick, then scorch the rest. The Cerberus screamed in triumph, tongues flicking more fire, eyes as crazed as its rider’s. The world quaked as power clashed with power, and Sawyer braced his legs against it, took aim.

His bullets struck each head, had them whipping back in shock as those triumphant screams went to shrieks of pain.

“It’s now,” he shouted. “Right now! Send me up!”

Shooting his weapons home, he gripped the compass.

He flew, grateful now he’d had the experience with Bran once before or he might have fumbled. With Nerezza fighting to control her beast, with her rage focused on the five, Sawyer put everything he had into the moment.

His hand gripped her flying hair, and with the shock of it rocketing up his arm, he shifted.

Like a tornado, the dark funneled around him, full of sound, burning with her fury. The stinging whip of her power lashed his arm, his face, his body. But he held on.

Then her eyes met his, and her madness smiled.

Inside,” Bran ordered. “Inside now. Be ready. Injuries?”

“Burns, cuts, crap. And more crap,” Riley managed. “The sun’s going down.”

To solve the problem, and because she limped as she ran, Doyle simply scooped her up, carried her like a football into the villa.

“We’ll deal with injuries in Ireland. Let me help you.” Sasha dropped down to drag off Riley’s boots.

“Look, I’m not a priss, but how about averting your— Damn it, no time.”

She tossed modesty away with her shirt.

Doyle unhooked her belt. “You can’t run.”

“I know it, I know it. Sawyer—”

“He’ll come back to us. We have to believe.” Sasha gripped Riley’s hand even as it began to change. “We all have to believe.”

Riley’s only answer was a howl as she rolled to her hands and knees, gave herself over to the moon.

“Can you see him?” Annika knelt down, wrapped her arms around the wolf, pressed her face into the warm fur to comfort them both. “Sasha, can you feel him? Please. Please.”

“No, but I don’t when he’s traveling. He’s strong, Anni, and smart. He pulled her away.”

“She never saw him coming,” Doyle added. “He took her by surprise. The kid’s got balls of steel. He’ll come through. He’ll come back.”

“We’re going to live on the island.” As she spoke it, like a prayer, tears streamed down her cheeks. “He’s going to build a house, and I’ll stay in the sea. We’ll swim together.”

“I know.” Because she felt Annika’s fight not to despair, Sasha knelt beside her, took her and the wolf into an embrace. “It’s lovely. We’ll all come see you, swim with you.”

“He’ll come back to me.” Annika drew in a breath, raised her head. “Just as he did before. He’ll come back to me.”

When he did, he fell at her feet.

“Sawyer, Sawyer.” She dropped onto him, covering his face with kisses. “You’re hurt.”

“Not that bad.” He kissed her back, and hissed as he managed to get to his knees. “Pretty bad,” he admitted. “The disconnect was tricky. She’s got a hell of a grip. I don’t know where I dumped her, or how long we have until she figures it out, but we should get the hell of out Dodge.”

“You’re weak, brother.”

“Not that fucking weak,” he shot back at Doyle, but accepted the hand to help him to his feet.

“I believed in you.” Annika took his bloody hand, pressed it to her cheek.

“I could feel it. Keep it up.”

“You have the coordinates.”

He nodded at Bran, tapped his temple. “Set. I could probably use a boost.”

“You’ll have it.”

“Don’t forget my bike,” Doyle told him.

“Got you covered.” He glanced at Riley. “First time I’ve ever traveled with a werewolf.” And grinned at her low growl. “Okay, gang, second star to the right and straight on till morning.”

“I love you, Sawyer King.”

“Keep that up, too.” He pressed his lips to Annika’s, mentally pulled his battle-scarred friends in close.

With Annika’s arms around him, he took them traveling to where two stars shined quiet, and the third waited to light again.

The mother of lies tumbled through time and space. A storm of wind and sound whirled around her. Worlds rushed by, grazing her flesh with their edges as she fell.

As she bled—bled!—power seeped out of her, drop by drop. She gripped the reins of her fury in hands that burned and burned, gathered all she was, all she had.

Weak, weaker, fading.

She dropped through the world like a comet of ice, and the earth quaked when she fell onto the floor of the cave, by the silver steps she’d created.

She tasted her own blood in her mouth, swallowed it, but had no strength to rise. So she lay, wrapped in pain.

Dimly she heard the click of claws on stone.

“My queen, my god, my love.”

Scaled hands lifted her head, stroked her, while the beast she’d created from man made guttural croons.

“I will kill them all for you,” it promised. “I will help you heal, grow strong. Drink.” It held a goblet to her lips. “Drink, and rest and heal.”

She drank, but the few drops of the seer’s blood barely touched the pain, barely cleared a single layer of mist from her mind.

But she saw now, reflected over and over on the polished stones of the chamber, the beast who cradled her. Saw her garments tattered, torn, singed. Saw a second white streak snaking through her hair.

And the lines carved deep around her mouth.

In her eyes, where lines, more lines, fanned, a vengeful madness bloomed.

It lifted her.

“You will sleep. I will feed you, and tend you, and bathe your wounds. You will heal again, my queen, and I will avenge you.”

Something stirred inside the pain, the fury, that might have been gratitude. Then as it carried her to her bedchamber, she slept, and dropped into bloody dreams.