Stars of Fortune

  “Of dollars?” Sawyer managed.

  “There are only a handful of these known to exist. One went up for auction a couple years back. Went for, I think it was about fifteen, and yeah, brother, that’s freaking million.”

  “It will buy hiking boots.”

  Riley stared at Annika as if she’d grown gossamer wings. “You could buy a small third-world country with what’s in this sack, and I’ve only skimmed over a part of it. Where the hell did you get this?” She shook the gold coin.

  “I found it.”

  “You . . . found it.”

  “Yes. It’s fun to find things, and I like pretty things. Do you like it?”

  “I freaking love it.”

  “You can have it.”

  “Say what?”

  “You can keep it. A gift.”

  Seeing Sawyer about to speak, Riley held up a finger. “You’re going to just give it to me.”

  “You like it, so a gift. For a friend.”

  “Riley, you can’t—”

  She cut Sawyer off with a look. “What do you take me for? Can I have another one instead?”

  “One you like better? Yes, you pick. Everyone should pick one, the one they like better.”

  “I’d like this.” Riley picked an old drachma. “Ten, maybe fifteen bucks,” she told Sawyer. “I’m going to keep it with me, for good luck. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Sawyer, you pick! You came for me. Pick something pretty.”

  He kept it simple, picked out a U.S. quarter. “For good luck.”

  “Sasha is next. Pick one!”

  “Take one of the pieces of eight,” Riley told her. “You know you want to.”

  “It’s too—”

  “Believe me, she can spare it. Go ahead.”

  “For luck then. Thank you, Annika.”

  “Now, Bran. Breakfast was very, very good. Pick one.”

  For sentiment, he took an Irish punt, then kissed her cheek. “You’re a fine, good friend, darling. Now, will you trust me with your coins, as I’d like to put them somewhere safe.”

  “I trust my friends. You’re my friend.”

  “And you’re a rare flower. Let’s get these back in the bag here.”

  “The Augustus,” Riley began.

  “It’s handled it so far. I’ll put these away, Annika, and today we’ll buy you your hiking boots and whatever else there is. A gift from us.”

  “Oh, thank you.”

  He hefted the bag, looked at Sawyer, Riley, Sasha. “Trust me with it?”

  “You wouldn’t break her trust,” Sasha said.

  “Make it right and tight, Irish.” Riley blew out a breath when he nodded and walked back into the house. “Hey, Sawyer, how about you and Annika handle the KP. Sash and I will deal with the chickens today.”

  “Sure. Let’s clear the table, get the dishes done.”

  “Then we’ll go shopping?”

  “Looks like.”

  Riley gestured to Sasha, walked out of earshot. “Is she, you know, challenged?”

  “Oh, no, it’s not that. She’s . . . I don’t know how else to describe what I get from her. She’s pure.”

  “It’s more than that. I’m not saying she’s not pure, but she’s evading. People just don’t find priceless coins on the floor, on the ground, in the back of a drawer. And she had hundreds of coins. Hundreds, and the couple dozen I saw? Even taking out the heifer, she had a tidy little treasure there. Where’d she get it?”

  “If you think she stole it, I have to say I don’t think she’s capable of that sort of dishonesty.”

  “I don’t think she stole them, but, Sash, I make my living finding things, and I’m damn good at it. Nobody’s good enough or lucky enough to just find coins like that.”

  Riley paused at a little shed, pulled out two buckets, scooped feed into one of them.

  “She would’ve given it to me. She’d have been happy to give me that priceless coin, so money doesn’t mean a thing to her. There are secrets in there, and likely major ones.”

  “I know. I know it, but I just don’t want to push her to tell us. I’d rather she told us when she’s ready to.”

  Riley angled over a look as they walked past the garden to the clucking chickens. “A lot of people, probably most, get pissed when someone holds something back, then lets it spill.”

  “I think we’re all entitled to judge for ourselves when and if we’re ready to tell our secrets. Everyone has them.”

  “Let’s all remember that. Okay, do me a favor?”

  “If I can.”

  “I’ve got that five riding with Bran that I can get our new girl in, outfitted, and out inside twenty minutes. Help me keep it moving, will you?”

  “Sure. What are friends for?” Frowning now, she watched the chickens strut around—and stare at the humans, she thought, with tiny eyes. “I don’t know how to feed chickens. Or get eggs from them.”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Riley lost the bet. Despite the team effort, it took twice the time she’d calculated to outfit Annika in practical hiking-wear. She figured she could’ve gotten herself in and out in a fraction of that time, but then again, she didn’t insist on touching every freaking thing first.

  Bran simply held out his hand, and she slapped five euros into it. And found it hard to bitch too much as he took out a credit card to pay for Annika’s boots and shoes, and the hat he’d snagged for Sasha, as it matched the one she’d drawn on herself in her dream sketch.

  “You rich, Irish?”

  “I’ve enough to cover this. And with what we’ve locked away, she’s more than good for it.” He glanced over to see Annika holding up a bright pink rash guard, turning this way and that in the mirror while Sawyer just grinned at her.

  “Better get her out of here before she decides she needs to try on another two dozen things.”

  “God, you’d think we were trolling at Saks instead of a sporting goods store. Hey, princess! Let’s move out.”

  “Can we get more? Do they have earrings? I like earrings.”

  “Some other time. Some help here, Sawyer.”

  They flanked her, maneuvered her—now clad in boots, cargoes, T-shirt, vest, and hat—to the door.

  “I can pitch in with this.” Sasha moved up behind Bran.

  “Quicker this way, and we can sort it all out later.” He picked up the hat, settled it on her head. “Suits you. Why don’t you go make sure Annika doesn’t drag them into another shop?”

  Maybe he was the fáidh, Sasha thought as Annika was indeed trying to negotiate her way into a gift shop with a display window full of trinkets.

  “We’ll come back.” Going the direct route, Sasha grabbed Annika’s hand and tugged.

  “I like shopping. There are so many pretty things.” She frowned down at her boots as they walked to the car. “The boots are not pretty.”

  “Neither is twisting an ankle on a rough trail,” Riley declared, and let out a whoosh of relief when they piled in the jeep with Sasha and Sawyer sandwiching Annika between them in the back.

  Bran came out, stowed the bags, dropped into the passenger seat.

  “Thank you for all my things, even the boots.”

  Riley punched it, headed out of the village.

  “We may have to look into a bigger ride,” Sawyer called out over the wind.

  “I’ve got plenty of room.” Riley flicked a glance in the rearview mirror, smirked.

  “If we do find the guy in Sasha’s sketch, no way he’s going to fit in here.”

  “We haven’t found him yet. Any feel on that, Sash?”

  “I just know we will.” She watched the world rush by, and thought how quickly she’d grown used to Riley’s speedy driving. “He rides a dragon.”

  “A what now?”

  Sasha shook her head. “I don’t know where that came from or what it means. We’ll find him, or he’ll find us.”

  Riley turned, headed inland. The
land rose into hills and forests with bright splashes of wildflowers, a blinking flash of a small settlement. Lambs, fluffballs of white, played in olive groves. She could no longer smell the sea, but instead the warm, sunstruck green of cypress and olive.

  Riley turned again, onto a spit of a road that slithered and snaked up. And though she hadn’t tried to, she felt Annika’s heart thunder.

  “Are you all right?”

  “It’s beautiful. The trees are so many.”

  Yes, they were so many, Sasha thought, and made her think of her little house in the woods. It would be the same when she returned to it. But she wondered if she would be.

  Riley pulled off into what was essentially a ditch.

  “On foot from here.”

  Armed with their packs, with Riley, her roughly drawn map and compass on point, they left the road, started west. Sasha found it amazing to cross a field where donkeys cropped at grass and wildflowers. So amazed she didn’t have time to worry when one walked over to her, stared.

  “Hoping you have something edible to share, I wager.” Bran stopped with her, gave the donkey a scratch between his long ears.

  “He has such sweet eyes. I wish I had an apple.”

  “Well, let’s see.” Bran turned her around, tapped at her pack. When he turned her around again, he held out a small, glossy green apple.

  “You really have to show me how to do that.”

  He smiled as he took out his pocketknife, cut the apple in half. “I might be persuaded. Here, give it to him.”

  “And the firsts continue. I’m feeding a donkey.”

  “Then we’d best get moving before his friends come round looking for theirs.”

  “I feel like Annika. It’s all so beautiful.”

  They walked on, leaving the field for a rough track where brushwood of myrtle and bay tangled, and tall, slim towers of cypress speared among the olives. They passed a jumble of rocks decorated with the sturdy wildflowers that pushed their way through cracks toward the sun.

  She felt that way, as if she’d pushed through barriers toward the light.

  “You’re happy,” Bran commented.

  “I’m hiking the hills of Greece on a gorgeous spring day. There’s so much to see. To smell,” she added, dragging her hand over a bush of wild rosemary to send its fragrance rising. “I’m not going to think about where we’re going. It’s enough just to be here.

  “Why did you kiss me?”

  She hadn’t meant to ask, and hadn’t been able to stop the thought from forming into words.

  “Well, the usual reasons apply.”

  She told herself to leave it there, leave it alone. Then thought the hell with it. “You could have kissed Riley or Annika, for the usual reasons.”

  “That’s true enough, isn’t it? They’re both appealing, attractive, interesting women in their own ways. But I wasn’t inclined to kiss them. And now that you’ve got me thinking about it, I can tell you there’s no doubt I’ll be inclined again where you’re concerned.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly, she wasn’t sure whether to be amused, insulted, or a little afraid.

  “Don’t you have someone back in Ireland, or New York?”

  “I do, of course. But not the way you mean. I’ve friends on both sides of the ocean, and family as well. But no woman waiting for me to sail home again. If there were, I’d never have put my hands on you, and certainly wouldn’t take you to bed.”

  “I never said I—”

  “When you do,” he said easily. “There’s more here than a hike in the hills, than a quest. Don’t you wonder, fáidh, what it is?”

  She didn’t know how to do this, Sasha decided, didn’t know how to hold up her end of flirty, sexy conversation. And she quit while she was behind.

  “I wonder why Riley’s taking the left fork when the cave’s to the right.”

  “Is it then?” Bran asked.

  “Riley! It’s that way.”

  Up ahead, Riley stopped and turned. “Map says left.”

  “But it’s right. You can see—” She broke off, stared ahead where she’d clearly seen the dark mouth of the cave under a stone ledge. It simply wasn’t there.

  “I thought I saw . . .”

  “Maybe you did. The seer or the map?” Bran asked the others.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Riley nodded. “We’ll take the right fork.”

  It offered a harder climb, and didn’t that just figure. The grade went steep, and the track rutted and rocky. Yet flowers bloomed, sturdy and stubborn, and a narrow stream, barely a handspan wide, cut its way down through springing green and dusty rock.

  A Judas tree bloomed gloriously where the rutted track forked yet again.

  “Which way?” Riley asked her.

  “I don’t—”

  “Don’t think.” Bran laid a hand on her shoulder, featherlight. “Know.”

  “The left this time. They missed the first fork when they told you. It’s to the left, but they didn’t see . . .”

  What lived inside her spread—arms lifted to pull away a veil.

  Sasha’s own arms dropped to her sides; her eyes went to cobalt.

  “The devil’s breath comes through its dripping jaws. In its belly lie the bones of murdered men who scream in the dark, of women who weep for lost children. Only light from fire, from water, from ice, will free them.

  “Sorry.” She braced against the trunk of the tree while her head spun with visions, with the echo of her own words. “I’m a little dizzy. It came on so fast, like a shove off a cliff.”

  “Here.” Annika offered a bottle. “It’s water. It’s good.”

  “Thanks.”

  “My boots aren’t pretty.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake—” Riley began.

  “But Riley was right. You were right,” she said to Riley. “They aren’t pretty, but they are strong. And strong is important.”

  “Yes.” Sasha took a steadying breath. “Yes, it is.” She handed Annika the bottle. “Thank you.” To the left, fear pricked at her skin, tiny little thorns, but she couldn’t turn away.

  “We’re close now.”

  She followed the track, and her instincts. Her legs ached from the hike, but she ignored the pain. Her lungs labored, but she pushed up the track toward what she feared.

  When the sun flashed in her eyes, she blinked the glare away.

  Then stood staring at the dark mouth under its wide stone ledge.

  “Does everyone see it?” she asked.

  “Straight ahead. Good work, Sash.” Riley gave her a light punch on the arm. “We’d have gone the wrong way.”

  “Maybe someone wanted us to,” Sawyer suggested. “Bran and I should go in first, get the lay of it.”

  “You get one really stupid man remark,” Riley commented, and made a check mark in the air. “Make another, and I punch your pretty face.”

  “Then I’ll take mine as well, and say he has a point. All five of us go in straightaway,” Bran continued, “there’s no one out here to get help should something go wrong.”

  “You’ve got two minutes.” Riley held up her arm, tapped her watch. “On my mark.”

  “Into the belly then.” Bran moved forward with Sawyer.

  Not the belly, Sasha thought. The mouth.

  The belly lay deeper.

  They stepped under the ledge and in. Dark spread ahead, light shone behind, as if they walked out of day into night.

  Each pulled out a flashlight, swept the beam.

  “Got your dripping jaws right here.”

  Sawyer shined his light over the thick stalactites dripping with moisture. Over time the wet had formed a small pool behind the tooth curve of stalagmites.

  The rhythmic plop of water against water echoed like a quiet heartbeat.

  “Tight quarters here,” Bran noted, “but—”

  “Yeah, it opens up. No way of knowing how far back it goes.”

  “Not from here.”

  Sawyer scanned the ar
ea, shifted his weight. “What are the chances of talking them into staying out while we go back?”

  “None. And more, I think however it goes against the instincts, it must be all of us, whatever the risks. Whether the star is here or not, I think it must be all of us.”

  “Yeah, I know it. I’ll give them the come-ahead.” But he’d only started back when Riley ducked under the ledge, came in with the others behind her.

  “Time’s up. There’s your jaws, Sasha, as advertised. Devil’s Breath. I’m betting that pool throws off a mist, and when it carries outside the mouth of the cave, you’ve got your breath.” Leading with her flashlight, she circled the mouth. “Little low in here for you tall people. More headroom as you go back, at least initially.”

  She moved through the bars of stone, crouched by the pool. “Not deep, fairly clear. Nothing in there I can see.” She glanced over at Sasha.

  “All right.” Though she dreaded it, Sasha moved to the pool. “I don’t see anything, in it or from it.”

  “Okay. Is everybody up for heading in?” She shook her head as Annika waved her flashlight in a circle, watched the beam.

  “It’s—”

  “Yeah, pretty.” She pushed up, and as Bran had already started back, the others followed.

  The walls stood no more than six feet apart, but the roof of the cave rose