Bay of Sighs (12 page)

Sasha sat again, caught her breath. “Wow.”

“I'll say. Want that something stronger now?” Riley asked her.

“No, that was strong enough.”

“Seems like the seer has spoken.” Riley lifted her beer again. “Buck up, team. Bran's going to make us some fire, and we're going to burn Nerezza's ass again, and that bastard Malmon's while we're at it.”

“Then I'd suggest everyone get some sleep.” Doyle stood up. “We start combat training at dawn. It may take him a few days to select his own team, to get here and set up, to come at us. We'll bloody well be ready.”

A
nnika didn't like the new training. It held a meanness, like the guns. Striking each other, throwing each other to the ground. How to slash or stab someone with a knife.

She wanted to say no, as she had with the gun, no, she would not. But she knew she must. Bran couldn't make her a magick weapon for this.

She didn't like seeing Doyle sweep Sasha's legs out from under her so she fell, or Riley kicking so hard toward Bran's belly. Her friends slashed at each other with knives, and though Bran had charmed them so they couldn't harm flesh, it made her hurt inside.

To avoid most of it, she danced, tumbled, flipped out of the way rather than on the attack. When she couldn't avoid, she held back, afraid to hurt those she loved.

“Come on, Annika. You're faster than that.” Feet planted, Doyle tapped a fist on his hard chest. “Come at me, come hard.”

Hoping to satisfy him, she started forward, did a handspring, started a flip, but he caught her foot, used momentum to push her up and back. She barely had time to adjust and land on her feet.

“Hey, take it easy.” Sawyer broke off sparring with Riley, took a punch in the belly for his trouble. “Hey, you, too.”

“Love tap,” she claimed.

“Good thing we're not in love.” He started toward Doyle. “Ease up a little.”

“Easing up gets you hurt. She's easing up, and that's the problem. You're holding back, Gorgeous. Truth.”

On a pleading look, she lifted her hands. “I don't want to hurt my friends.”

“Holding back's what's going to hurt your friends. Go with me,” he murmured to Sawyer. Fast, smooth, he had Sawyer in a grip, and a knife to his throat. “How do you keep me from cutting his throat?”

“The knife can't hurt him.” Though she didn't like it there. “Bran fixed it.”

“Got you there, friend.”

Unamused, Doyle grunted, flipped the knife point-first into the grass. In an instant he had Sawyer in a choke hold.

“Hey!”

“Play along.”

“Play my— Fuck,” he managed as his windpipe seemed to narrow.

“What if I just snap his neck?” The muscles in Doyle's arms rippled as he applied pressure. “The right grip, the right pressure, it's done. Quick and quiet. What do you do?”

“You won't hurt him.”

“Just a little more pressure.”

When Sawyer began to wheeze and struggle, Annika's eyes widened. “Stop.”

“Make me. Stop me. He could be dead any second.”

“I said stop!” Lifting a fist, Annika shot out light, struck Doyle's choking arm, his throat. She sprang forward an instant before Doyle released Sawyer.

Sawyer coughed out a couple breaths, bent over to rest his hands on his thighs.

“It didn't hurt you because you're not evil.”

“Gave me a buzz,” Doyle told her. “And if I'd have been a bad guy, I'd be down for the count. That's how it's done. You okay, kid?”

Sawyer gulped in another breath, nodded. Then straightening, came back hard with an elbow into Doyle's gut.

Now Doyle coughed out a breath. “Good one.”

“You earned it, old man.”

“We're hurting each other.” When tears trembled in Annika's eyes, Doyle stepped back.

“All yours.”

“Okay, listen.” Sawyer swung an arm around Annika's shoulders, turned her around. “Let's walk a little.”

“Doyle hurt you. You hurt Doyle. Sasha said Riley broke her butt.”

Not the time to laugh, Sawyer warned himself. “It's an expression. But yeah, we're going to hurt each other a little. Some bumps and bruises, and some bruises on the pride, too. But, Anni, what comes at us won't have knives that won't cut, won't pull punches. They could be worse than what she sent before because they're human. They can think and plan instead of just act. They'll kill me—I'm expendable. I don't have value.”

“No, no, you—”

“To them, I am. Probably Sasha, too. Bran if they can manage it. And they'll take you and Doyle and Riley. That's worse, what they'll do to you is worse.”

She stopped, turned to face him, to read his eyes. “They'll kill you?”

“They'll try.”

“And Sasha?”

“Odds are—kill or capture. And for us, one's the same as the other. We have to survive.”

“It's our duty.”

“That's right, and we have to protect each other. That's more than duty. I'll take the bumps and bruises now. Doyle's tough, but he's right.”

“Do you want to kill people? To take their lives?”

“Absolutely not. But to save you, us, myself, the stars? I won't hesitate.”

“Then I'll hurt you.”

On a laugh, he cupped her face in his hands, pressed his lips to her forehead.

She simply flowed toward him, all but melted against him, surrounding him with her scent—both sweet and mysterious at once. He had only to shift, only to change the angle of his head for his mouth to meet hers.

And that shift, that change of angle would change everything else.

“Okay. Well.” He gave her a quick rub on the arms, stepped back. Tried not to look too long into those dreamy sea-green eyes. “Let's see if you can hurt me before Doyle calls it for breakfast.”

T
hey spent another day on and in the water, found nothing that pointed them toward the star. But there was gelato on the way home, and Annika considered that the happiest part of the day.

When they reached the house, the men wandered off into the grove. Annika thought nothing of it as she set out another jug of sun tea, but Riley, apparently, thought plenty.

Wearing her orange Chucks, a Grateful Dead T-shirt over baggy cargoes—and a suspicious expression—she stood, hands on hips. “Man talk.”

“I think they went to shoot the targets.”

“I don't think so.” Riley turned as Sasha stepped out with her sketchbook and a large pitcher of sparkling pink.

“I tried my hand at this juice drink—raspberry and lemon with sparkling water. I think it's pretty good.”

“We'll be the judge.”

“Where's everyone else?” Sasha asked as Riley poured the juice over a tall glass of ice.

“Exactly. The everybody else with a penis went off into the grove. I smell man meeting.”

“They can have it. I'm hot, tired, and parched.” But as she sat under the pergola, Sasha frowned toward the grove. “What could they be meeting about?”

“Strategy. Protecting the womenfolk from the Nerezza-Malmon duo.”

“That's insulting.”

“You bet. This is pretty good.”

“I like it very much,” Annika added as she sampled her own glass. “We can have a woman meeting. We protect, too.”

“Damn skippy.”

“Who is Skippy? Why are you mad at him?”

“It's an expression. Like bet your ass.”

“People are always betting their asses. Language is fun.” Because of the shade, Annika took off the glasses that dimmed the glare of the sun. “But I think the men worry because I won't use the gun, and Sasha has to practice fighting.”

“I call bullshit.” Scowling now, Riley aimed her displeasure toward the grove. “You've both proven yourselves, and more than once.”

“I agree with that,” Sasha said, “but Annika's right, too. I'm not as quick or as strong as the rest of you. I'm better, and I'll get better yet. And, Annika, you're plenty quick and strong. The bracelets more than make up for a gun.”

“Damn skippy.” Annika grinned as she tried out the expression. “In the water, I'm the best, and we can use that. Riley shoots the gun very, very well, and she's fast in a fight. Sasha is better with the crossbow than even Doyle, and she sees so much of what we need to know.
We've been chosen because of what we are, what we can do. What we will do.”

“We're not a team if we're in two camps,” Sasha pointed out. “The men, the women.”

“It's natural for men to worry about the women in their family. We're family.”

Riley drummed her fingers on the table. “Go ahead, Anni, be logical.”

“We worry, too,” Annika added. “I would do all I could to protect them, and you, and so I have to hurt you when we practice. When we were attacked in the water in Corfu, the first time, I wasn't ready. I was too happy to be in the sea. But since I listen, I watch. I protect.”

Sasha reached out, laid a hand on Annika's. “You saved me.”

“In the last battle, you went to the high cliff with Bran, because you knew he would need you. We all needed you. And in the full moon, when Riley changed, she came to fight with us as the wolf. With no weapons but fang and claw. They know this, all this. But men will worry about their women.”

“You're more tolerant than me.” But Riley shrugged. “I'll give them space until they take too much of it.”

“We have more. You're the smartest.”

“You're starting to improve my mood, Anni.”

“Sawyer is so clever, and Doyle has lived so long, has much experience. Bran is smart, and he has magick. But your brain is the biggest. You find things out. Dig them out.”

“I haven't dug up anything on the sighs and songs yet, but I'm working on it.”

“You will find it, or Sasha will dream it. And we'll know.” It wasn't simplicity or innocence in Annika's words, her tone. It was faith.

“Knowledge is a power and a weapon, and you give us knowledge. The men understand all of this. Still . . . Sawyer protected me when
I wouldn't learn how to shoot the gun. Doyle didn't try to force me, and Bran made me these.”

She lifted her hands so the copper gleamed in the dappled sunlight. “He knew I would fight better, be stronger with these. When you were the wolf, Sawyer made you a fire on a rainy night. This is kindness and care. Doyle knocks Sasha down so she'll get up again, but he doesn't knock her down as hard as he knocks Riley. Because Riley's stronger.”

“And meaner.”

“In a fight?”

Again Riley shrugged, but she grinned with it. “I can be all-around mean when I need to.” Then sat back with her sparkling juice. “I never thought to have a mermaid explain men to me.”

“Is it wrong?”

“No. You hit all the right spots. Like I said, you're more tolerant, but I can't argue any of your points. Especially since I have the biggest brain.”

“And maybe I was wrong,” Sasha considered. “Maybe it's good to separate now and then. We get the female perspective, they get the male. Then we bring both to the team.”

“Can I ask a question about men, but not about battle?”

“Of course.”

“How did you get Bran to kiss you, the first time?”

“Unintentionally, I guess. We were both a little angry.”

“So to get Sawyer to kiss me, we should be angry.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sasha saw Riley's eyebrows lift into her long fringe of bangs. “Not necessarily. Everyone's different. You have feelings for Sawyer.”

“He fills me with feelings.”

“So make your move,” Riley said. “Can't the female make the first move in your world? Kiss first?” she added for clarity.

“Oh, yes. It would be silly not to be able to kiss the male you want, if he's willing.”

“If I'm any judge, Sawyer would be willing.”

“But I can't. I'm not permitted to kiss a land person the first time. He must want me, show me. He must choose.”

“Why is that?”

“Our females have the power to lure men—humans. To seduce so the choice isn't a choice for them. Long ago, and not so long ago, some of my kind lured men, sailors and explorers.”

“Sirens.”

“Yes. The song of the siren is beautiful and powerful, but it can be dangerous to the human she calls. We take an oath not to use the song, and never to first kiss a man if we're granted legs. An oath is sacred. I wouldn't be worthy of this quest if I broke the quest because I want to kiss Sawyer.”