Bay of Sighs, Page 21

  to her eyes.

  He drew them away. “Trust yourself, as I do.”

  “As we do,” Riley corrected, and glanced behind her at Doyle.

  “Yeah. We do.”

  “Help me.”

  Bran brought the hand he held to his heart. “Feel me, open to me.”

  “Love, trust, faith. Bran.”

  “Open to yourself, fáidh. Let it come. You’re so strong. Set the fear aside, for everyone. And just open.”

  She felt his heart beat under her hand, steady. Steady. Closed her eyes and counted the beats. His. Hers. Theirs. Hers. Hers.

  “Oh, they’re hurt. The pain. It’s horrible, and the fear is worse. She fears for him, tries to fight, but they hurt him. He fears for her, tries to fight. They hurt her. Trapped, she’s trapped. Water surrounds her, but it’s cruel. He enjoys hurting them. He knows how. And Malmon—he’s not just a man. His eyes, his eyes, he hides them, but . . .”

  “Where, Sasha? Where are Annika and Sawyer?”

  “In the cave. Blood and death in the cave. Locked in a tank of water, hurt, losing heart. Weeping. Sawyer, so much blood. One chance, he feels one chance. I can’t see it, not all. So many, and so much pain. Sawyer . . . Wait, wait. He’s gone. He’s gone.”

  “Dead. No, no, no.”

  She shook her head at Riley. “Gone. Somewhere else. I don’t—”

  As she spoke, a light, bright as noon, burst in the hills, and the thunder followed.

  “Sniper’s nest.” Doyle grabbed Riley’s arm. “Inside, get inside.”

  “Time for that chain reaction, Mr. Wizard.” Riley rushed inside, grabbed her weapons. “And time for us to move.”

  “They’re coming.” Filled with her power, Sasha picked up her bow. “Men, Malmon’s men. They’re coming here. They mean to take us.”

  “They won’t.” Bran lifted fisted hands, beat his fists together.

  The hills above the villa bloomed with light.

  One chance, Sawyer thought, and prayed he’d timed it right. He might not live through it, but he had one chance to save Annika. He felt the gun against his head, the arm tight at his throat. And did something he’d never done.

  He let go.

  The arm dropped away, and there was nothing. Not even a sound. He gripped the compass, brought Annika into his mind. He’d never tried a shift within a shift, but he’d already counted off sixty precious seconds.

  He had to make it back to her. If he couldn’t get her away, at least she wouldn’t be alone.

  In the tank Annika lay still, eyes closed. She would fight again, beat and beat against the glass when she found the strength again. Now her body was weak, shaken. Only will kept her from simply drifting away.

  She hoped they would kill her. They meant to kill Sawyer, she understood that. He would die if he came back, and he would come back.

  He had too much honor to leave her behind.

  She knew he hadn’t told Malmon the whole truth—he still protected the star. She believed he had a plan, would try. But he was hurt, bleeding, all but broken.

  With all her heart she wished he would travel on, be safe. Then she heard something like thunder. The water in the tank trembled.

  When she pushed herself up, her vision went gray, but she saw Malmon rush out of the cave, shouting. Saw Yadin reach for the controls.

  Then Sawyer was with her—like a dream—in the water. He lifted his bound hands up, put his arms around her.

  Light flashed to blinding. The tank rocked and shook as if by a giant’s hand. She heard screaming, such terrible screaming. Then they flew.

  She wrapped her arms around him, felt his blood, wet and warm on her skin.

  “I’ve got you,” he said in her ear.

  “You came for me.” Before she could weep, they tumbled to the floor.

  She heard gunshots, shouting, saw more lights flash. Felt Sawyer go limp under her. She managed to lift her head, look at him. His face, white, bone white under the blood and the bruising. And from his shoulder, his side, more blood seeped.

  She wanted to stand and fight, but had no strength left, not even to bring the gift of her legs. So she did all she could, and tried to shield his body with hers.

  Now she did drift, for a moment, for an hour—she couldn’t know. Dimly, she heard a voice. Riley.

  “Fuckers won’t try that again anytime soon. Now let’s get this rescue party— Jesus, Jesus Christ. Bran!”

  Hands on her, lifting her.

  “No, no, Sawyer. He’s hurt. They hurt him. Sawyer.”

  “Bran’s got him, Gorgeous. We’ve got him.”

  “Doyle, take her out, into the pool. She needs the water. Riley, more towels. We need to stop this bleeding so Bran can work on him.” Sasha dropped beside Bran. “How bad?”

  “Very. He’s lost a lot of blood. I think his cheekbone’s shattered, and his eye . . .”

  “Let me help. I can take some of it.”

  “It’s too much, Sasha.”

  “I can do it. I can help.” She laid a hand on Sawyer’s cheek. Gave a shocked cry. “Oh, God.”

  “Stop. It’s more than you can do.”

  “It’s not. Work through me.” Desperation, pity, love all tangled in her. “You said you trusted me. Trust me now.”

  Riley hurried back, took one look at Sasha’s pale, sweaty face, at Bran’s utter focus. She dropped down, pressed a towel to the wound on Sawyer’s side.

  “Come on, Dead-Eye, come on. I’m damned if you’re going to bleed out on this kitchen floor.” She looked up at Doyle. “You shouldn’t leave her alone.”

  “She’s doing better, and asked me to see Sawyer. She’ll do better yet if I can tell her . . . Good Christ, the bastards worked on him.”

  “That’s enough there, Sasha.”

  “A little more. I can do more. Doyle, tell her he’s going to be all right, then get Bran’s big kit. Riley?”

  “Blood’s slowed, but I can’t stop it.”

  “Bran will. He will. I see us, together. All of us. On a hill with a circle of stones, and the sea is blue. I see it, and we’re six. Get the kit, Doyle, and tell Annika he’ll be all right.”

  “I’m here.” She came in, naked, legs shaky. “I believe.”

  “Here you go.” Doyle swung off his coat, wrapped her in it. “You’re cold.”

  “He came for me. He tricked them, and he came for me. He risked all for me, for us, for the stars. He is courage.” Tears streamed as she knelt down. “Let me help.”

  Malmon crawled. The light, the terrible light, had blinded him. All he saw was the dark. And the pain! Even now, with the screams and thundering dropped away into a brutal silence, his body burned.

  He smelled his own smoking skin and hot blood.

  But he lived, so he crawled over the scorched, stony ground. He craved water, cool, cool water, for his body, for his throat. He would have given half his wealth for a cup of water.

  Then he heard her voice, and trembled.

  “You failed me.”

  “No, my queen. No. We were ambushed, tricked, but even now soldiers are taking them. You will have all six. Please, they hurt me.”

  “Your soldiers failed, and are gone from this world as all the others you brought here.”

  “Please, my love, my queen, the light burned me. My eyes. Help me.”

  Full of pain, he crawled toward the sound of her voice, and was struck back.

  “Why should I help one who failed me? I gave you a gift, and what have you given me?”

  “All I am, all I have.” Blindly, he reached up.

  “You are nothing. You have nothing but what I grant you. You had two tasks, my pet. The stars, the guardians. For these two tasks, I would have given you eternal life, eternal youth, and all you could wish for. You have none of them.”

  “I will. I swear it, I won’t fail.”

  “You’re blind. Weak. Nothing but a broken shell.”

  “Help me.” Though every inch burned, he crawled again. “
Help me see, help me heal. I’ll bring you the stars. I’ll bring them bathed in the blood of the guardians.”

  “You want to see?”

  “Restore my eyes, I beg you. I can’t find the stars, can’t kill those who stand against you if I can’t see.”

  “You want to see?” she repeated, and the laugh in her voice made him tremble. “And if I grant you this, you will pledge yourself to my service?”

  “I am your servant. I will be your servant. Have mercy.”

  “Mercy is a weakness. I am strength. I’ll give you sight again, my pet. I’ll let you see.”

  His eyes seemed to boil in his head. He screamed, screamed until his throat bled, covered his burning eyes as he tried to claw his way back from the pain.

  The tears he wept were bloody.

  Through the screams, through the agony, he heard her laugh.

  And through the dark, he began to see.

  Her hair flew around her face in coils, and on her face lived a mad satisfaction as he writhed and shrieked. Still, the man and what that man had nearly become held out its hands to her.

  A supplicant.

  “Never ask for mercy.” She smiled at him, almost kindly. “And do not fail me again. There, crawl back in your hole.” She gestured toward the cave. “And await my pleasure.”

  “Don’t leave me. Take me with you. Take me with you so I may serve you.”

  “You wish to go with me?” As if considering, she circled him where he lay, her long black gown rustling like wings.

  “I’ll grow strong again. I’ll bring you the stars. I’ll bring you the heads of the guardians.”

  “Words and promises mean nothing. Get me what I want.” She leaned down toward him. “Or the pain they gave you will be as nothing to my displeasure.”

  “I will heal. I will give you all you want. Take me with you, my queen.”

  “Very well. Take my hand.”

  Shaking with gratitude, he reached out. The hand he put in hers was blackened, the skin peeling in sheets, and the nails an inch long, thickened, yellow, curved like claws.

  “If you were not what I made you, what you’re becoming, you would be gone like the rest of those you brought here, those who failed. Remember that. My pet.”

  Pain came again, a shock of it, as if he’d been ripped out of fire into ice. The cold nearly shattered him. His bones seemed to crack and hiss.

  Then came the dark, complete.

  When he blinked, he could see dimly. Some sort of room or chamber, with chains and shackles hanging from walls of stone.

  The birds that weren’t birds hunched on perches, eyes glinting yellow in the darkness.

  “You will bide here. When you have become, I will have use for you.”

  “The dark. The cold.”

  “Ah, yes, there is still some of that in you, some that yearns for light, for heat. Very well.”

  Candles and torches burst into flame. On their perches, the birds that weren’t birds shrieked and fanned their wings. The walls, stone polished to a gleam, shot out dozens of reflections.

  Nerezza, in her black gown, a bloodred ruby at her throat. The birds, yellow eyes glinting, wings folding in.

  And someone—something—crouched on the floor. Its skin rawly red and scorched black, peeling in sheets and flaps to reveal . . . something else beneath. Hands and feet like claws, hair burned away to a scalp where glistening nubs rose. Eyes, yellow like the birds, slitted like a snake, that stared back in abject horror.

  It moved when he moved. It rose on clawed feet when he rose.

  “What am I?”

  “Between, for now.” Nerezza flicked a finger at a flap of his skin. When it dropped away, fell to the floor, birds swooped down to fight over it.

  “I . . . I’m a monster.”

  “A demi-demon, and in my service. Remember the pain, my pet. Remember who restored your sight. Remember your oath.”

  “I’m a man.”

  “You’re mine, and will be for eternity or until I end you.” She walked to a door he hadn’t seen, opened it. “You’ll know when I have use for you.”

  He tried to run to the door, stumbled and fell. Once again he tried to crawl, but there was no door, no way out, only the stone, polished like glass. Polished like mirrors that showed him his own image everywhere he looked.

  Malmon crawled into a corner, hunched and hunkered there with all he’d become staring back at him.

  He began to laugh and laugh, until the chamber echoed with the sound. And the sound was madness.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sawyer slept deep. Dreams joined him, but quietly, soothingly. Voices—Annika’s soft singing lulled him. Sasha’s joined it on a murmur that offered peace—then Riley’s a kind of determined cheer. Bran came into the dream, and Doyle, with a briskness that added hope.

  Once he saw his grandfather, sat with him by a campfire. In its flames his grandfather’s face was young, as young as his own, as they spoke of legacies and stars and gods, as the moon floated white overhead.

  And he floated, as if inside a clear bubble. Gently, gently, over seas, over lands, over worlds. Over an island clear as glass with a castle on a hill, and a stone circle.

  So beautiful.

  Then the bubble popped, and he woke.

  Annika sat beside him on the bed, holding his hand, so hers was the first face he saw.

  And his first thought was, she was safe. He’d gotten her back.

  “Hush, don’t try to speak yet. Bran made you sleep.” She brought his hand to her lips, pressed kisses to it, then to the wrist still raw. “For healing. They hurt you. They hurt you.”

  “Annika.”

  “No, you should be quiet. Bran said to get him when you woke.”

  “Wait. Just wait.” He started to sit up, despite her distress, and felt it. Oh boy, he felt the remnants of the torture.

  “You have pain. Bran said to have you drink this if you woke with pain.” Annika grabbed a small bottle from the nightstand. “It will help you sleep.”

  “How long?” He had to clear his throat, and breathe through the aches. “How long have I been out? Asleep,” he explained.

  “You brought us back it was night, and there was another night, and this is the day after. Not the morning, but after the noon. Please drink, Sawyer.”

  “I’ve slept long enough.”

  “I’ll get Bran.”

  But he kept his grip firm on her hand. “They hurt you, too.”

  “Bran and Sasha helped, and I slept, too. Not so long, but I wasn’t hurt like you. He put the knife in you. Here.” Gently, she touched his side. “It’s healing well. Bran said. And they struck you in the face, and . . .”

  “Yeah.” Gingerly, he probed at his cheek, his jaw. “They broke something in there. It’s just a little sore now.”

  “You came back for me.”

  “Sure I did. I’d never leave you like that. I just had to— Don’t cry. Come on, don’t cry.”

  “I knew you would come back for me.” The hours and hours of waiting for him to wake crashed down on her. “I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t help. They kept hurting you, and hurting you. They had something that stopped my bracelets. Bran fixed them, but I couldn’t break the glass and help you. I wanted to cause their deaths—especially the man with the knives. But I couldn’t.”

  “We’re here.” He stroked her hair. “We’re safe, and we’re here. That’s what counts. The compass.”

  She got up quickly, took it from her dresser. “It’s here. It’s safe, too. I’ll get Bran.”

  “How about this? I need some clothes because I’m completely naked here. Help me get dressed, and we’ll go to Bran.”

  “There’s pain in your eyes.”

  And there were shadows under hers.

  “It’s not so bad. Scout’s honor—I promise,” he corrected. “I need to move, Anni. I just need to move, and to eat something, and to find out what the hell happened.”

  “Riley said you wouldn’t sl
eep again if you woke.” On a sigh, Annika turned back to the dresser. “I brought your clothes into my room. I want you to stay with me.”

  “Good, that’s what I want, too. Just grab me some pants and a shirt.”

  She did as he asked, helped him dress.

  “Sawyer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You are a hero to me.”

  “Anni? You’re a hero to me. How about helping me downstairs so we can talk to the other heroes?”

  It hurt, but nothing he figured a few aspirin wouldn’t deal with. And some food. And a beer. As they came out of Annika’s room, Riley came out of hers.

  “I just— Hey! There he is.”

  “He wouldn’t take the medicine, just as you said.”

  “He’s okay, aren’t you, cowboy?” Riley stepped closer, gently rubbed a hand over the few days’ worth of beard. “A little scruffy, but it looks good on you. You scared the shit out of us.”

  “Hey, me, too.”

  “Let’s get you downstairs. I bet you could use some food.”

  “I could eat. A lot.”