Bay of Sighs, Page 26

  “Two hours was the deal,” he insisted, and Bran nodded when Doyle pointed to the hourglass.

  “Exactly.”

  “It’s barely ten minutes more. And they’re safe. There’s no need to— They’re coming.”

  At Sasha’s words, Doyle got to his feet, reached for his sword.

  “No, not her. Them. Sawyer and Annika. So everyone relax.”

  Even as Sasha spoke, they were there.

  “I could’ve cheated,” Sawyer said immediately, and his grin could’ve lit the entire island. “And done a time shift.”

  “He wanted to, but I said it was a kind of lie, and we had a night of truths.”

  “Yeah, we did.” Still grinning, he hugged Annika close to his side. “Are we grounded?”

  “Time matters,” Bran began.

  “Don’t have angry.” Annika spun over to hug Bran. “I’m too happy for angry. Sawyer loves me.”

  “There’s a news flash,” Riley commented.

  Still hugging Bran, Annika frowned at Riley. “I know this voice is . . . sarcastical.”

  “Just sarcastic,” Bran corrected.

  “Sarcastic. You know he loved me?”

  “If you just figured it out tonight, you’re the only one here who didn’t. But yay—sincerely. Now, since the kids are back, I’m going to get some sleep.” Riley looked up at the moon. “I won’t get any tomorrow night.”

  “Sawyer needs sleep, too. We had much sex and he should rest now. He’s ready to dive again,” she told Doyle. “But because of the sex, it’s good to wait one more day.”

  Riley rolled her eyes, kept walking. Doyle rose.

  “I’m going to take a last patrol. Get that rest, brother. Another day for the dive, but you’re in for full training tomorrow.”

  “Right. Well, we’ll go up, get that rest.”

  Sasha looked after them with a sentimental smile. “That’s why their happiness kept ringing like bells.” She rose, took Bran’s hand. “No point in being annoyed with them. All’s well—right now much, much more than well. And we should get some rest, too.”

  “So we will. After much sex.”

  To amuse her, he floated them both up to the terrace, and into bed.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  In the chamber inside the palace inside the mountain, what had been Malmon ran up the wall, across the ceiling, down the wall, over the floor—a monstrous hamster on a wheel.

  He ran for hours, occasionally snagging one of the birds in a clawed hand, consuming it. Often more for amusement than hunger.

  More rarely than that, as he ran, chortling, something would flash inside his mad mind. Images of colorful rooms, plush beds, of a man with golden hair in a dark suit staring back at him in horror, as if through a fogged glass.

  The flashes made him scream, and the screams echoed off the polished stone.

  Whenever she came, his queen, his goddess, his world, he would drop to the bulbous knobs of his knees. Tears of fear and joy and crazed love filled his slitted eyes when she stroked his head. He would call out to her in a guttural grunt when she left him again.

  Then he would go back to the wheel.

  On the day she came to him, took him by the hand, led him out of the chamber, he trembled. His small, spiked tail twitched.

  She guided him through a maze of stone hazed with smoke from sputtering torches. Bats and birds perched among the flames, eyes glinting, watching. He saw a creature with wings and three heads shackled, saw the bones and blood scattered around it.

  Then they entered a large chamber, alight with candle-glow, glinting with gold and silver and jewels. Like his, the walls were mirrored and reflected the throne on a gilded floor that rose on three silver steps.

  She released him, ascended, sat. Then gestured with long fingers ringed with rubies. “Pour us wine, my pet.” When he neither moved nor spoke, she inclined her head. “Don’t you remember how?”

  Words grunted out of him. “Remembering hurts.”

  “I wish for you to pour the wine. Do you not want to give me whatever I wish?”

  “Yes! All you wish. All!”

  “Then give me what I wish.”

  His hands shook. The man with golden hair flashed again, and the pain spiked in his head. But he picked up the glass bottle, poured the red liquid into a goblet studded with the bloodred rubies she favored.

  The claws of his feet clacked against the silver steps as he carried it to her.

  “And for you.”

  “For me?”

  “We’ll have wine together, my pet. Pour the wine, and sit.” She gestured to the steps at her feet.

  Quaking—such joy, such fear!—he did as she bid. He wanted to lap at the wine in the goblet, but remembered, painfully, drank with his long sharp teeth clicking against the silver.

  “And now, Andre—”

  Hearing the name had the pain erupting inside him. He cried out, spilled wine, red on silver.

  “You needed to forget,” Nerezza continued, “so you could become. Now you are become, and must remember. Remembering will be useful.”

  “It hurts!”

  “Do you love me?”

  “I love. You are my worship.”

  “Then you will bear the pain for me. There is a man’s mind inside you still, and I will have need of it. I will have need of you . . . Andre. You failed me once, but I show mercy. You sit at my hand and drink wine. You live, and with speed and strength no human can match. How will you repay my mercy?”

  “As you command me.”

  “Yes. As I command you.” She smiled, sipped wine. “Do you remember the guardians? The six?”

  His breath burned his throat; his clawed hand dented the silver goblet. “Enemies.”

  “Which of them would you choose to kill first?”

  “Sawyer King! Sawyer King! Sawyer King!”

  “Ah, yes, he who outwitted you. I will allow you to take that life. But not first. I need the death of the seer. As she dies, I can drain her. She’s powerful, and that power is . . . young. It will feed me, and she will no longer guide the others.”

  “I will kill her for you, my queen.”

  “Perhaps.” She picked up the Globe of All. Frustrated mists swirled inside, hiding much from her. “If she dies by your hand, you may take the one you want, do what you want. You must prepare now, Andre, for the battle.”

  And if he failed, she thought, even if he died in the attempt, there would still be blood.

  Setting aside the globe, she picked up her mirror. Saw the white streak through her beautiful black hair, the signs of age on her beautiful face.

  They had caused this. The guardians had marred the perfection of her beauty.

  But when she drank the seer’s blood, she drank the power. With it, she would restore her endless youth.

  As he felt the connection again, strongly, Sawyer spread out his maps, laid down his compass. When it glowed, he expelled a breath—relief and gratitude—watched it glide over the maps. It settled on the map of Capri, then lay still.

  “Yeah, yeah, I got that part. But where?” Scowling, he sat back. “Why does everything have to be so damn cryptic? Just once, why not give a clear, exact, no-bullshit answer?”

  He continued to scowl when Riley sat across from him under the pergola. “No luck?”

  He shook his head. “You?”

  “I’ve broken my never-nag rule and left yet another urgent voice mail, sent another urgent email to this Dr. White—Jonas White—my source claims is the expert on the Bay of Sighs. The retreat ended this morning, so he should be connected to the damn world by now, but nothing.”

  Like Sawyer, she stared at the compass. “Does that do any good?” she wondered. “Staring at it?”

  “No.”

  “Figured. Like it’s not doing any good, right now, for me to keep trying to dig up more on this mythical bay. I hit bottom, and have to suck it up and wait. I hate sucking it up.”

  “At least we’ll dive tomorrow. And maybe tha
t’s the way it has to be. Just keep looking. Suck it up.” He looked at her now. “Because it’s not showing me where this bay is, and it’s sure as hell not giving any handy hints of where we’d go next—when we do find it. And that’s going to be important.”

  “Vital, once we find the Water Star, so it’s hard to hold that no-nag rule where Sasha’s concerned.”

  “Nerezza will know when we find it, and come hard.”

  “You’ve got to figure.” Thinking it through yet again, Riley twirled her sunglasses by the earpiece. “First order, when we do, is getting it to safety. I guess Bran will hide it where we have the first. Then we’re going to have to book or be ready to kick her ass here.”

  “We’ll be ready. But it doesn’t feel like here.”

  Intrigued, Riley propped her chin on her fist. “No, it doesn’t. I keep thinking that. It doesn’t feel as if we’d have a big, final showdown with the bitch god in a lemon grove outside a nice house in Capri. A showdown, sure, but the big one?”

  “Water Star, so maybe the big one comes when we’re in or on the water.”

  “Yeah, I’ve played with that one, too. And with the fact that we’ve gotten pretty relaxed around here the last couple days, so it just doesn’t feel like Fight Club. I guess it doesn’t matter when or where, as long as we’re ready.” Riley glanced up. “Bran’s in his magick shop doing what he does.”

  “Where’s everybody else?”

  “You mean Annika, so you should say Annika. I think she’s up working with Bran so Sasha has time to paint. Because we’re all hoping she’ll paint something we need to know. And Doyle is in the kitchen cleaning his weapons.

  “Anyway, the next—if we leap forward—is ice. So maybe Iceland or Greenland or the fricking Arctic. We may look back on the sun and heat fondly before much longer.”

  “It’s a big leap until we find the Water Star.” He noted she stared at her phone, as he’d stared at the compass. “Let’s go shoot something.”

  “What?”

  “Target practice. Sitting here trying to will the compass to move or your phone to ring? I’m getting jumpy.”

  “Neither of us needs practice there, and we shouldn’t waste the ammo. Knife-throwing contest.”

  “You’re on.”

  He took the compass; she took her phone, and together they killed an hour and a few targets.

  “Tiebreaker,” Riley said, but he shook his head.

  “Let’s leave it as a tie. I’m dinner chef tonight, and I should get started.”

  “It’s early.”

  “It’s the first night of your three, right? You need to eat before sundown. I’m going for beef manicotti. I figure you could use the red meat.”

  “Yeah. Appreciate it.” She pulled the phone out of her pocket as they walked back. “Watch this White call after sundown, when I can’t talk to him.”

  “Told you. Bark in Morse code.”

  She elbow-punched him, then split off to head up to her room. She wouldn’t sleep that night, so a nap wouldn’t hurt.

  Later, they ate a quiet meal, each of them preoccupied. Since the next day’s agenda was already set, it came down to waiting.

  “That should hold me till morning.”

  “You still have time,” Sasha said when Riley rose.

  “Yeah, and I’m going to try to contact this White guy again. Push some other buttons that may get through to him. The harder it is to reach him, the more I think he’s got some answers. If I crap out on that, I’ll just see everybody in the morning.”

  “Stay out of the neighbor’s chicken coop,” Sawyer advised, and earned a narrow stare.

  “I’ll take her turn,” Annika said when Riley went inside.

  “Turn?” Distracted, Sasha rubbed a small ache at her temple. “Oh. Oh, the chart. It’s Riley and Doyle on cleanup.”

  “I don’t mind. Maybe she’ll find the Dr. White, and learn what we need. And after we clean up, if there’s time, I can take her some of the gelato that comes in the box.”

  “Right.” With some reluctance, Doyle rose when Annika did. He’d solved his cooking duties—he bought pizza—but had yet to figure a way out of cleanup when his turn came around.

  “It’s nice to make things clean again,” Annika said after they’d carted dishes inside.

  “It’s nice to have them clean.”

  “You cleaned your guns today, and polished your sword, even your knives.” Content enough, she went to work at the sink. “This isn’t so different.”

  And she liked filling the big sink with water and the suds, liked the smell of the suds when she scrubbed the pots Sawyer had used.

  “The meal was very good.”

  “Yeah, the man can cook.” Doyle clattered dishes into the dishwasher. Since he knew what it was to try cleaning a pot or plate in a fast stream, he figured he shouldn’t complain.

  “I can cook a little now. It’s fun. You’ve lived so long, but don’t cook.”

  “I can get by.” He pulled out a dishcloth, started drying the pots. “I learned to cook over a fire, on hunting trips.”

  “You’ve seen the wonders come. Riley let me look at some of her books. Once land people walked or rode horses. Then they learned to make cars, and motorcycles like yours. And there was no phone like Riley so enjoys, or the movies Sawyer likes to watch.”

  “Things change. People not as much.”

  “But things can’t change themselves. People can. Sasha has changed so much in hardly one turn of the moon. She’s stronger and she’s learned to fight. And she can do six pull-ups where she could not do one.”

  “You’ve got a point. And I’m betting she’ll get up to ten before we’re done with this.”

  “And we’ve all seen wonders, of dark and light.”

  For a while they worked in silence.

  “I have a hard question,” Annika began. “I want to ask when it’s just you.”

  “All right.”

  “You’ve lived a long time. You’ve had people who . . .” She touched a hand to her heart. “Matter, who mean much.”

  “After a while, you try not to let that happen.”

  “But it does. We matter to you, not just as guardians, as warriors. We matter to you.”

  He looked at her, the stunning mermaid, thought of the others, one by one. “You matter, yes.”

  “How do you say good-bye?”

  He set down the cloth because he understood she needed a real answer. “I’ve never found an easy way. If it’s easy, they didn’t matter.”

  “Is there a way to make it easy for the one you leave?”

  “Convince him he doesn’t matter. But that’s not going to work for you, Gorgeous. Not going to work with Sawyer.”

  “No, I couldn’t pretend that. It would make what we have nothing.”

  “He’d never believe you anyway. And he’s never going to forget you.”

  “I think how it would be best if he did, then I know if he could, I would just fade away. So, I have to hold on to the wonder.”

  “If anyone can, it’s you.”

  “You’re my very good friend.” She turned, hugged him. “I’ll be sad to say good-bye to you. But I have two turns of the moon before . . . Oh, it’s nearly sunset. I have no time to take Riley the gelato. There are still dishes to put away. Cookies.”

  Inspired, she pulled a bag of fancy cookies from the pantry. “I’ll finish if you could take these to her. She has enough time for a cookie. And they could be in her room in the morning when she’s hungry and tired.”

  “I don’t think she wants—”

  “Please.” Smiling, Annika held out the bag.

  Doyle thought there wasn’t a man alive who could say no to that smile. “Fine.”

  He carried them upstairs. At least the chore got him out of tubbing up leftovers or washing off counters—all on the duty list.

  He heard Riley’s voice, caught the quick interest in it.

  “Yeah, if you could do that, even better.”

/>   He stepped into her room—one where books were piled everywhere, and where she’d put a nightstand into service as a small desk, which she used now to scribble notes.

  Spotting Doyle, she twirled a finger in the air, jabbed it, in a sign he took to mean she was wrapping things up, to wait.

  “Yeah, agreed, Atlantis is a whole different kettle. I’m happy to do that, and will first thing in the morning. Uh-huh, right. I just need a little time to put it all together for you first.”

  Doyle opened the bag of cookies—it was right there—pulled one out. She kept talking while he ate, while he wandered her room, looking at the books, the maps stuck to the walls, the notes only organized by her eye.

  They’d had a few words on her lack of system, but she could, indeed, put her hand on any and everything she wanted in seconds, so he’d lost that round.

  The room smelled of her soap—just a faintest hint of vanilla—and the flowers Annika insisted on putting in every bedroom. Including his own.

  He ate another cookie, bent over a new translation she must have worked on by herself, lost track a bit until her voice cut through his thoughts again.

  “I’m grateful, Doctor. This is a big help. I will absolutely do that. Thanks. Yeah, thanks. Bye.”

  She clicked off the phone, did a little dance in place. Her dark gold eyes read smug. For some strange reason, he liked them smug.

  “You’ve had good news.”

  “Bet your fine ass. He forgot to turn his phone back on, never turned on his computer. White—my source. And he gave me—”

  The phone slipped out of her hand, bounced on the bed as she gasped. “Oh, fuck it, fuck it, I waited too long. Get out, get out, get out!”

  She dropped straight to the floor, began to fight with her bootlaces.

  And Doyle realized he hadn’t paid attention either. The sun was setting in a