CHAPTER SEVEN

The cave, they reported as they took time to rest, eat, drink before starting the hike back, was simply a cave.

Wide and deep and dry.

Sasha sketched it, added the dimensions Doyle estimated, as well as the narrow tunnel that forked off into a second chamber, wider, deeper than the entrance.

Using the sketch, Doyle marked the best places to lay their traps.

“Not too close to the entrance.” Bran, too, studied the sketch. “We’d want as many of them inside as possible when, and if, I set them off.”

“Why the hell would they use a cave way the hell up here?” Riley wondered. “He’s after a villa—and that suits Malmon. A cave, that suits Nerezza.”

“It’s not hers,” Sasha insisted.

“Whatever reason, he has something planned, or why see danger inside for two of us?” With a nod, Bran approved Doyle’s marked positions. “I can work with this. What I’ve made can cure in the cave as easily as it can in the workshop. What do you say, Sawyer? You and I take a quick trip down, gather what’s needed, bring it back again?”

“Sure.” Instinctively Sawyer reached for his compass, then angled his head. “You can get us down there, right? Like you took Sasha to the promontory in Corfu.”

“Here to there? I can, yes. Easy as a Sunday drive.”

“I’ve never traveled your way.”

“Well then, I’ll give you a ride.” Bran rose, reached down. The men gripped forearms. “We’ll be back shortly.”

And they winked away.

“I miss driving,” Riley commented.

Doyle polished off a sandwich. “Tell me about it.” He shoved to his feet, wandered off, then stood staring out at the sweeping view of blue water, white rock, and the green with the tumble of houses below.

“Looking for possible snipers’ nests,” Riley concluded. “Even though he knows this is too far up. They may HQ here, but they’ll come down a ways, the snipers. When we get back, I’ll see if I can find out if Malmon’s bagged a villa. And he’s going to want a boat. He has his own, so maybe he’ll just bring that, or have it brought. The Escapade—his yacht. As if what he does is charming.”

“I hope we search for the star tomorrow. I like the scent of the land here.” To prove it, Annika drew in a long breath. “And the way the sun strikes the water, the land. But if we find the star before he comes, we could be gone.”

“We face him first. On the land, on the sea. In the dark, in the light. Our lightning against his. He hurts you.” Again, Sasha gripped Annika’s hand. “It’s your blood in the water. And Sawyer’s on the ground.”

She dropped her head. “They’re coming too fast. I can’t keep up.”

“You’re pushing too hard.” Riley scooted around, knelt on the rocky ground to dig knots out of Sasha’s shoulders.

“I just can’t see it clearly.”

“You’ve blocked her. Stands to reason she’s doing what she can to block you. Don’t push it, Sash.”

Then Bran and Sawyer were back, nearly at the exact spot. Now both of them carried satchels.

“Supercool trip.”

“Another?” Bran demanded after a single glance at Sasha.

“Just in flashes. They’re just flashes today.”

“Let it go for a bit.”

“See?” Riley rubbed Sasha’s shoulders, then rose. “Let’s get started.”

“Won’t they see what you put inside the cave?” Annika asked.

“I’ll sink them into the ground, at Doyle’s strategic points. This time they’ll work in a chain reaction, at my command. The first goes, then all follow.”

“Will it kill?”

“It’s war,” Doyle said as he strode back. “And none of us can afford to be delicate about it.”

“Ease up,” Sawyer ordered.

“There’s no easing up once they come, once they come at us. Munitions, and plenty of them. Room for cages for any of us they capture. That’s what I’d use the cave for. And the prep area for sending men down from the west, for securing snipers’ nests. Men,” he said flatly, “who’ll have guns with long-range capabilities. Men who kill for a living and who’ll be trained to put a bullet in your brain in the middle of one of your cartwheels.”

Sawyer stepped in front of Annika. “Back the fuck off.”

“No, don’t shield me. Thank you, but don’t.” Her hand wanted to tremble, but she willed it steady as she laid it on Sawyer’s tensed arm. “I know what must be. I took my oath.” She stepped clear, faced Doyle. “You’ve killed men before, and you will again. I don’t need Sasha’s gift to know this. Land people kill what they are, and it’s your greatest weakness, your deepest shame. I know those who come will kill, so we do what we must do. But it brings no peace or pleasure.”

“No. Neither. Ever.”

“Do you see them, the ones who’ve fallen for you?”

“Every one.”

She looked into his eyes a long moment, then took his hands. “It’s a heavy burden to carry. After this, we’ll all carry it. I can’t place the weapons in the cave. Show us where else they’re needed. Sawyer and I will do our part.”

They took the second satchel and, using the map, hiked to the nearest location marked.

“You shouldn’t be angry with Doyle for being harsh with me.”

“Can’t help it.”

“You can,” she corrected. “Because, as I do, you know he’s harsh because he worries I will hesitate, and be hurt, or not protect another from harm.” To soothe them both, she leaned against him. “You worry, too.”

“Sure, a little.”

“More than a little, I think, and I don’t like to give you worry. Sometimes I need Doyle to be harsh, and make me remember.”

“Okay, but remember this, too. I’ve got your back.” He tipped her face up. “And everything else.”

“I will. We’re teammates.”

“You got it. Now watch this,” Sawyer told her as he carefully lifted a vial from the satchel, set it on the stony ground.

It lay a moment, then sank out of sight as if into water.

Annika said, “Ahh. Bran has such a gift. But is it safe for others? Innocents?”

Though she caught at his hand, Sawyer deliberately stepped on the spot where the vial had been. “Evildoers only. Mr. Wizard strikes again. Okay, next about fifty paces southeast.”

He looked at her as they veered off the narrow track. “I know this is hard for you. You have the sweetest heart. But you’re right that Doyle’s right. You need to look at it in a hard light, Anni. Nerezza chose to take this direction, and the men she’s using as weapons against us? They have a choice, too. Those choices take ours off the table. They’ll end us, and more, end any chance of keeping the stars out of Nerezza’s hands.”

She said nothing as he placed the next vial.

“Once Malmon’s on the hunt, he won’t stop. And he’s good. He has almost unlimited resources to keep looking. And maybe, at some point, even to find the Fire Star Bran’s already secured.”

“He would kill you.”

“In a New York minute. Like that,” he said, snapped his fingers. “He doesn’t value life, unless it’s his own. Me, I’d just be dead—not that I’d be happy about it. But you, especially you, Riley, and Doyle, it would be worse for you.”

“How for Doyle? He’s an immortal.”

“That’s just the point.” Sawyer gestured, and they headed toward the next spot. “He can’t die, but he can feel pain. Malmon could and would give him pain for years.”

“I know there is cruelty.”

“But you don’t understand it.”

“I never want to. But I understand, even though it’s hard, we have to stop these men just as we stopped her creatures. We protect each other, and the stars. It’s our duty. You said you don’t want to take a life, but would to protect others.”

“That’s right.”

“And our others, I know, would do the same. I can’t do less. Let me place the next vial.”

Slowly, they worked their way down, with the breathtaking view spread before them. The sun splashed onto the sea, shimmered on white rock, and baked the green.

At one point Sawyer crouched down, then lay on his belly.

“Doyle had it right, this is the perfect sniper’s nest.” When Annika lay beside him, he pointed. “See? That’s our villa.”

“Yes, yes, I see. It’s still a very long way.”

“They’ll have a scope, a high-powered rifle, and you can bet a lot of skill. Here.” He scooted back, squatted to take a pair of small field glasses out of his pack. “Look through these.”

She studied them a moment, then put them up to her eyes. Gasped and jolted. “Oh! Everything jumped close.” She lowered them. “But nothing moved.”

“Binoculars—it’s the lenses, the special glass. It— Easiest to say magnifies. A sniper would have something like this, something called a scope, attached to the rifle.”

“And it would bring us close,” she murmured as she looked through the glasses again. “I see. A miraculous tool used for evil.”

“In this case, yeah.”

“Then we place a vial here.”

Once they had, she turned to him, rose up to kiss him. “This is the good, to balance the bad.”

“Then let’s make it even better.”

He drew her in, took the kiss slow, quiet, deep. And wondered how he managed to go even an hour without having her pressed against him.

“You two really need to get a room.” Riley stood above them, hands on her hips.

“We’re weighing the scales on the good side,” Sawyer told her.

“Whatever. Did you cover it down to there?”

“Every mark. Take a look here.”

Quick, surefooted, she picked her way down, then crouched as Sawyer did.

“Well, shit.” Like he had, she stretched onto her belly. “You’ve got to give it to Doyle. This is prime for a nest. Get yourself an M24 or an—”

“AS-50,” Doyle said and jumped lightly down beside them.

Riley looked over her shoulder. “Next on my list.”

He got down, shoulder to shoulder with her, nodded. “Yeah, cover, stability, scope, and range. It’s all right here.”

“Good as a clock tower,” Riley agreed. “We walk outside, bang and bang. Ducks in a pond, all six.”

“Well, five out of six.”

“Right. You’d quack again.”

“They would overpower him—one man against many.” Sick at the thought, Annika looked down at Doyle. “And give him pain, endlessly. We can’t allow it.”

“Won’t,” Riley corrected. “You got any left?”

Sawyer patted the satchel. “Three.”

“And you?” She tapped Doyle with her elbow as she pushed up. “Any more spots strike you as bomb-worthy?”

“One or two.”

“Then we’ll cover it.” She wiggled her fingers for the bag. “Here come Sash and Bran. The four of you go on. We’ll finish this off and catch up. Then I believe it’s margarita time.”

“Not Bellini?”

Riley shook her head at Annika. “After a climb like this? It’s got to be the margarita. You know what’s good with margaritas after climbing up and in the hills for a few hours setting traps for bad guys? Salsa.”

“Got you covered,” Sawyer told her.

By the time they got back to the villa, Annika wanted the pool, the comfort of the water. Since Sasha and Sawyer had already started to chop and slice, she ran upstairs, changed into one of her new suits and the wrap that flowed over it.

When she came out, Doyle stood on the far side of the pool, looking up at the hills. He wore sunglasses and had a hand resting on the hilt of the knife in his belt.

He looked like a warrior, strong and fit and ready to face whatever came.

“You don’t have the beer.”

“I’ll get to it.”

“You look up where we’ve just been because you worry. Did you miss something important? Will all we did be for nothing? You worry we’ll be killed, in spite of all the work and planning. We won’t.”

“Optimism’s part of your charm, Gorgeous.”

“We won’t,” she repeated and walked over to him. “But you’ve seen more death than anyone should. An immortal faces death every day, but never his own. The losses, like the men who fell before you, are always there.”

She’d pinned it like a flag on a map, he thought, and shifted to look at her. “How long do you live?”

“We live longer than land people. Much longer. So I know when I go home, when I’m back in the sea, that one day my heart will still beat and Sawyer’s won’t. It’s very hard to know.”

“He’s lucky to have you now.”

“We’re meant,” she said simply, “at least for the time we have. Just as we’re all meant to be here together, to search for and find the stars. To take them back to the Island of Glass. Because we’re meant, we’ll face what comes, do what we must.”

Because it was her way, she slid an arm around his waist, leaned against him. “You’re a warrior. A warrior isn’t a killer because a warrior, a true one, has honor. The men who’ll come aren’t warriors.”

“No, they’re not.”

“And when they come, we’ll win. Today is for a job well done, and now for the pleasure of having it done. You should get the beer.”

“I should get the beer.”

It was rare for him to allow himself to feel or show true affection, but he found himself cupping her chin, kissing her lightly on the lips.

He walked toward the kitchen where Sawyer stood holding a tray of fresh salsa and chips.

“Do I have to kick your ass?”

Doyle glanced back. Annika stood a moment, arms and face lifted to the sky, then dived sleekly into the pool.

“Brother, if things were different, one whole hell of a lot different, you’d sure as hell have to try. But they’re not, so we can save each other the bruises. You for beer or that Slurpee Riley makes?”

“I like the Slurpee.”

“Suit yourself,” Doyle said, and went in for beer.

Sawyer took the tray to the table, set it down, then walked over to look into the pool.

Annika lay on the bottom, eyes closed, lips gently curved, as if she dreamed some sweet dream.

Riley came out carting a pitcher of margaritas nestled in a big bowl of ice. “Sasha’s bringing the rest.”

She set down the pitcher, rolled her shoulders. “Boy, am I ready to dive into that pool.”

“Annika’s in there.”

“So?”

“I think she’s taking a nap.”

Riley walked over to the edge, looked down. “Huh. Well, it’ll have to be a . . . catfish nap. Get it? That gives me time for some liquid refreshment.”

Back at the table, she dipped a chip into Sawyer’s salsa, sampled. “Oh, baby, you know what I like. I could eat a gallon of this stuff. Haul those glasses over, Sash,” she said when Sasha came out. “Let’s get this party started. Where’s Bran?”

“He wanted to check on something in the workshop. He said he wouldn’t be long. I think Doyle hit the shower. Where’s Annika?”

“Taking a nap in the pool.” Riley poured three generous glasses.

“A nap in the pool.” Sasha took her sketchbook off the tray. “Isn’t it strange how quickly we get used to what we—or I, anyway—considered the impossible? Annika’s asleep in the pool. Bran upstairs with his magick potions. One of us could get a wild hair and go pull a Psycho on Doyle while he showers.”

On a laugh Riley stabbed a fist in the air, made the high-pitched sound that went with the classic scene.

“I could ask Sawyer, hey, would you mind taking me back to France, say right about the turn of the twentieth century, because I’d really like to have a conversation with Monet.”

“Which one?” Riley wondered.

“Both, now that you mention it, but I’m thinking Claude first, a personal favorite.” Sasha sampled the margarita, found it perfect. “So a little trip to Giverny.”

“I could do that.” Sawyer helped himself to salsa.

“Yes, you could. And in a couple weeks, when the moon’s full, Riley goes wolf.”

Sawyer threw back his head and did a very effective imitation of a wolf howl.

“And me?” Sasha gestured with her drink. “I never know when I might be having a conversation and start prophesying.” She drank, sighed. “And after a few short weeks? It all seems absolutely normal.”

“Because it is, for us.” Riley lifted her glass in turn. “So, here’s to us—and fuck the rest.”

As they clinked glasses, Annika rose up, rested her arms on the skirt of the pool. “Is it margarita time?”

“Come and get ’em.” Riley poured another glass.

When Doyle came out, a second cold beer in his hand, he saw Annika and Riley in the pool. Dr. Gwin might not be a mermaid, he thought, but the woman swam like a fish. Sasha stood at the side of the house, with easel and canvas, brushes and paint, and faced the sea.

Under the pergola, Sawyer and Bran had their heads together. He walked to them. Though he’d skipped the margaritas, he was a fan of Sawyer’s salsa.

“What’s the plan?”

“We were just kicking that around,” Sawyer told him.

“We’re covered, as much as we can be, while we’re here.” Bran looked over at Sasha, the arch of her back, the vulnerable nape of her neck as she’d bundled her hair up under her hat. Then up into the hills. “But Annika tells us you’re still worried.”

“Doesn’t take much of a gap, does it? A bullet doesn’t need much room.”

“Happy thought,” Sawyer muttered.

“We’ve laid traps, and I’ve added protection, but Doyle has the right of it. Some of it rests on Sasha. In Corfu, she knew when Nerezza would strike, so again, we were prepared. Added to that, we have the practicality of Riley’s network of contacts. We should know when this Malmon sets out for Capri. Once he has, the fight for us is against two fronts. Men, and minions.

“We’re stronger than we were.” Again, he looked at Sasha. “And more united. It will matter. I believe it will weigh on our side. Then there’s a matter of the search.”

“No more clues from that quarter?” Doyle wagged a thumb toward Sasha.

“Not as yet. It’s a great deal of pressure on her, so I’m asking if I’m not with her, someone else is. Always. She handles the visions well now, but the more open she is, the more Nerezza pushes to get in.”

“We’ve got her back.” Sawyer glanced toward the pool. “Once it starts, nobody should split off alone, but we’ll keep Sasha close.”

“Then we move on, do the work, which puts us out on the water. And in it.”

“Strategically, any serious attack should wait until we find the star. If having it were my goal,” Doyle continued, “I’d lie back, let the targets do the work, then go in, take them out, claim the prize.”

“But,” Bran said, and waited.

“It’s not altogether about logic, is it, but about greed with some madness thrown in. Sasha prophesied Malmon wasn’t what he was or would be. We have to assume, considering her visions, he’s made a contract with Nerezza. We can’t know what he is, what power she might have given him in exchange. Or how hell-bent he’ll be on getting to us, as he knows what each of us has or is.”

“Hell-bent as fire and brimstone,” Sawyer said. “Trust me.”

“That being the case, the odds favor he’ll come at us, at least a testing run, an attempt to deplete our numbers, or take one or more of us captive. Or he may go full out, believing we have information here he could use to find the star himself.”

“He’s a confident son of a bitch. I lean toward the full out. Not to kill, or not to kill certain ones of us. He’d rather capture, but he’d enjoy bloodying the ground while he’s at it.”

“Or the water,” Bran put in. “Which is where our search will focus.”

“And where we’re most vulnerable.” Doyle slid his gaze toward Annika. “Even with our advantage there.”

“I could arm the rest of you with the bombs, as we’re calling them. They won’t harm you as they will those who attack. But I’d have to do some work on underwater use there.

“And meanwhile we can’t use guns under the water, and a harpoon is a single shot.”

“We handled underwater attacks before,” Sawyer pointed out.

“We have. But what I’ve been working on, with Sasha’s help, is Doyle’s idea about infusing blades and so on with something like the bombs. It’s close to ready, or close to ready to be tested. It will help, considerably. But it may come to retreat, to Sawyer getting us out and away. Which is where we were, Doyle, when you joined us.”

“It takes proximity, that’s the thing. That’s why I brought us, boat and all, back to the villa in Corfu. I couldn’t risk missing anybody, disconnecting.”

Well used to talk of war, Doyle helped himself to salsa. “What happens if you disconnect?”

“Never happened, but I’m told if it does, it’s a long fall into wherever and whenever for the passenger. On the boat, I know I can do it. Underwater, I could miss someone, and if we’re into it, I’m likely to pull enemy back with us.”

“So what we need, if it comes to that, if getting to the boat isn’t going to happen, is to do whatever we can to pull in around Sawyer, give him the chance for the full retreat.”

Slinging a towel around her waist, Riley stepped up. “In the water,” she began and dumped more from pitcher to glass. “We’re two teams of three.”

“Is that so?” Doyle countered.

“It’s so if you’ve got a brain. Annika, key advantage us. It’s her element. She can hear and see farther than us or them. She can move faster than us or them. She gets her tail on? I wouldn’t want to take a hit from it. Bran, advantage us. Nobody likes to get struck by lightning. He’d take out more with a jolt than we will with diving knives. And he can get out on his own, take at least one of us with him? Right?”

“True, but I wouldn’t leave any of you. That’s not negotiable.”

“I don’t mean that—and thanks. I mean, moving on to our next advantage, Sawyer. He’s the escape route if and when. If Bran knows he’ll get the rest of us, he can worry about getting himself out, if necessary.”

She sat down with her drink. “The rest of us, we make sure everybody stays alive, no one gets separated.” Now she looked at Sawyer. “Ever fired an underwater pistol?”

“No.”

“Underwater pistol?” Bran’s brows lifted.

“Yeah, it’s specially designed to be used under water. Fires fléchettes, not bullets because the barrels aren’t rifled, and they maintain their trajectory through hydrodynamics. They do the job.”

“I’ve heard of them—pistols, rifles. Frogmen, SEALs, right?”

She nodded at Sawyer. “And so on. I might be able to score us a couple of them, and the ammo. It’ll probably take a few days, but I have a source.”

“A couple of them doesn’t arm all of us,” Doyle pointed out.

“It’s going to take some wrangling to get two, and two’s enough. You’re a decent shot, but you’re better with the bow or the sword. Bran? Pretty decent shot, but why waste the time when he’s the lightning man? Sasha’s getting better with a gun, but she’s not there. With the crossbow? She’s Robin Hood and all his Merry Men. And Annika’s not going to use a gun, in the water or out. So two. One for me, one for Sawyer. We’re the better shots. And, in fact, if I can only score one, it goes to Sawyer. Dead-Eye’s the best of us.”

“All right then.”

“One or two, I’m going to need to wire money.”

“Let us know how much,” Bran said, “and we’ll put it together. It’s good to have, and if we can access this sort of weapon, we have to consider they’ll be armed this way as well. Distractions,” he murmured. “Something an enemy would be more inclined to shoot than us. I’ll work on it. And it’s good strategy, Riley. The two teams of three.”

“They’ll have more.” Pale, Sasha stepped up to the table, set a canvas down.

On it she’d painted an underwater battle. The six of them, armed with knife, spear, pistol, surrounded by armed men. Twenty by Sawyer’s count.

Blood spread in the water. And sharks came to feed.

Annika walked over, laid her hands on Sawyer’s shoulders. “The blood draws them, and they’ll take all. The word you use is frenzy. It’s truth.”

Riley blew out a breath. “Does anybody else hear the theme from Jaws?”

She poured another drink.