Bay of Sighs (26 page)

I
n 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.”

M
almon 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.

S
awyer 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 sleep 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.”

“Good sign.” Like Annika, Riley wrapped an arm around his waist, and together they helped him downstairs. “Outside,” Riley prescribed. “Fresh air, sunshine. I've got him, Annika. Why don't you get him a big cold glass of the sun tea.”

“Beer.”

“Not yet, pal. And some food. There's pasta from last night, and—”

“Yes, yes, I can fix the food, and the drink.”

“She's filled us in,” Riley said in a low voice the moment they stepped outside. “But we'll want your end of it. I'm going to tell you, she beat her tail bloody trying to get out to you, and she's stuck with you since Bran put you under. She hasn't been out of the room either. She needs the sun and the water.”

“Okay.” More than a little rocky, he sat under the pergola. “The pool's just a stopgap. She needs the sea. Bran can get her down to the water. I can't make it yet.”

“We'll take care of it.”

Riley stepped back, spotted Sasha painting on the terrace, signaled her. “Sawyer's awake, he's down here. You want to get Bran?”

“We'll be right down.”

Then glancing toward the grove, Riley put two fingers in her mouth, let out a long, loud whistle.

“Hey, a wolf whistle.”

Riley glanced back, smirked. “Glad to see you've got your lame humor back. Okay, shit.” She walked to him, took his face in her hands, kissed him hard on the mouth. “I'm going to help Anni. And get a beer.”

“I want a beer.”

“No alcohol without Dr. Sorcerer signing off.”

He'd have sulked over it, but as Riley strode away, Sasha dashed out. And as Riley had, kissed him.

“Maybe I should get tortured more often. It gets all the girls.”

“Your color's good. How's the pain?”

“It's there. Not bad, but there.”

“We'll take care of that. You're hungry.”

“I'm starved.”

“Let's see the knife wound.” Without ceremony, she lifted his shirt, gently probed as Doyle strode across the lawn. “It's healing well. And the shoulder . . . better. Your wrists, better yet. Stay with him,” she told Doyle. “Bran's coming down, and I'm going to help put food together.”

With a nod, Doyle sat across from Sawyer, studied him.

“Aren't you going to kiss me? Everybody else has.”

“I'll pass on that. They beat the fuck out of you, brother, and sliced you good while they were at it. And a cattle prod, was it? From what Annika described.”

“Something like that. Malmon?”

“Not a sign or a sound. After some considerable bitching by certain parties, Bran and Riley went up. You couldn't be left unconscious, so they won that battle. There's nothing left in the cave, and no survivors they could find. Malmon, according to Riley's sources, hasn't been back to the villa. His things are there right enough, but he hasn't been seen.”

“If I had a fucking beer, I'd drink to that.”

“Considering all, I'll get us both a beer.”

“Not for Sawyer, not as yet.” Bran, one of his kits in hand, walked out.

“Have a heart. I've been mostly dead all day.”

“Excellent
Princess Bride
usage.” Riley came out with a tray—the glass of sun tea, the pasta. “There's more coming, but you can get started.”

“First, the pain—one to ten.”

Sawyer shrugged at Bran. “Maybe four and a half.”

“That means a solid six,” Riley said. “He's downplaying.”

“I agree.” Bran took a vial from the kit. “For the pain,” he said. “Not for sleep. Just to take the pain down a bit. Sasha will insist on dealing with it, and I'd as soon she didn't take on that much.”

“Fine.” Sawyer waited until Bran added a few drops to the glass, then downed the tea. “I gotta eat.”

He shoved in two healthy bites, sat back, said, “Whoa. For the pain?”

“It'll give you a bit of an energy boost as well.”

“I'll say. You need to get Annika to the water—seawater.”

“I'll see to it.”

Both Sasha and Annika came out with trays.

“We've got more pasta,” Sasha began. “Bread, cheese, fruit, olives, peppers, and anything else Anni could think of.”

“Great. What are the rest of you going to eat?” Sawyer asked and grabbed a hunk of bread.

“Let's see about the pain.”

“It's barely there now,” he told Sasha.

“Then let's get it gone. I'm good at this now. Just relax and keep eating.”

“How about that beer?”

“Half a glass of wine to start,” Bran said. “Then we'll see how we go. Are you up for a report?”

“I'm definitely up. Thanks, Anni, this is great.”

“I didn't set the table.”

“Next time. Here's my POV. When I went back in the water, they had her in a goddamn net. She was out, unconscious. Between us and the sharks, their numbers were down, but not enough. They hit me with something, some sort of tranq, I'd say. Same thing they used on Annika most likely. And the next thing I know, I'm hanging by my arms in that cave. Lots of equipment—thugs with guns, and this tank. They had Annika in a tank of water.

“Sit down, Sash. Really, I'm good.”

“You had some torn muscles in your shoulders, in addition to where you were shot. And burns on your chest.” But Sasha sat.

“Feels okay now. Then he walks in. Mr. Torture.”

“Yadin,” Riley said.

“Introduced himself, real polite. Then he got started.”

He skimmed over the worst of it—what was the point?—but gave them the overview.

“Yadin had it rigged so he could send electrical current into the water. The son of a bitch kept zapping her.”

“And you,” Annika said.

“Depending on your scale, you could say he kept it light, until Malmon got there,” Sawyer continued. “Something off about him, Malmon. I want to say he walked different—like his shoes were too tight. And he wore shades inside the cave, and a long-sleeved shirt. And, I know it sounds weird, but his fingers were too long.”

“His fingers,” Riley repeated.

“Yeah, I know, weird, and I was feeling a little rough by the time he came to join the party.”

“Sawyer is right. He wasn't like the other men. I felt he was not . . .” Annika struggled for the words. “Complete? Not one thing, not the other.”

“Seventh daughter of a seventh daughter's instincts,” Riley pointed out, “which march right alongside our resident seer's. We saw him sign a contract with Nerezza, in blood. I restate my vote for demon.”

“He seemed human enough,” Sawyer continued. “But edgy, jittery somehow. You know that's not his style, Riley.”

“Nope, cool, calm superiority. The kind that slits your throat—or more likely pays to have it slit—without the slightest rise in blood pressure.”

“He's pissed, too, because he can't get the compass to work.”

“He struck Sawyer very hard, and the bindings you took off, Bran, cut into him. The other man talked to him, so he stopped.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess I blanked there a minute. Malmon lost it. Yadin talked him down.”

“He had the man put the knife in Sawyer, but he told the man to hurt me more.”

“Increase the voltage. He said he'd fry her, and he meant it. He was past thinking of the profit he'd get from her.”

“That's not like him either. Probably bluffing.”

“I don't think so,” Sawyer told Riley. “I could see Yadin hesitate. He didn't want the game over so fast, but he'd have done it. I gave him coordinates, since he was focused on getting the Fire Star.”

“What coordinates?” Doyle demanded.

“To this uninhabited island—South Pacific.”

“How did you happen to have those on you?” Riley wondered.

“It's where my grandfather took me when he was teaching me. It's where his dad took him. We camped there for a few nights. I dreamed about it,” he remembered. “When I was out. Anyway, I told them Bran had hidden it there.”

“You kept your wits about you,” Bran commented.

“Wits were about all I had. So I told them part of the truth. How it wouldn't work until I passed it on, but I embellished that. How I had to take him on the first shift. It couldn't pass to him without that sort of ritual. I figured my only chance was to get him out of there, get him to travel with me so I could deal with him, get back for Annika. But he wanted a test run, so he picked a Red Shirt.”