by Nora Roberts
other hand. “We won’t go inside.”
“He’ll use it. Use you. One to the other. Don’t believe him.”
“Malmon.”
“Malmon. Not what he was, not what he will be. But hers. You can’t go inside.”
“Okay. We’ll stay out. We’ll stay right here,” Sawyer assured her. “What about the others?”
“What?”
“Is it safe for us?” Bran nudged Sawyer aside. “Do the rest of us go in?”
She let out a long breath. “I don’t feel anything for the rest of us. Just Annika and Sawyer. It’s life and death for them inside. For us? It’s a cave.”
“All right then. They’ll stay out here, and we’ll go in, see what we have.”
Sasha nodded. “Please.” She took Sawyer’s hand again, gripped Annika’s. “Promise.”
“You got it. We’re out here.”
But when the others went in, he stared at the mouth.
“Promise me.”
“What?”
“Promise me,” Annika repeated. “You won’t go in. You won’t use the compass, and come back to go in and see.”
Since he’d toyed with just that, he hesitated.
“You promise me. I promise you. Because we believe in Sasha.”
Damn it. “You’re right. Okay. I promise, I won’t go in—unless there’s no choice. Unless one of us is in trouble inside. Good enough?”
“Yes. I promise the same.”
She took his face, kissed him. “Now it’s an oath, and can’t be broken.”
He thought of Doyle’s words—wrapped up like a trout—but didn’t see where he had much choice.
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 strik
es 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 cu
rved, 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
