Bay of Sighs (34 page)

With a sigh, she looked down at the blood on the floor. “We need to clean this up.”

“I will clean it. I wasn't hurt. You should rest, and you, Sawyer. It helps you heal, too. Is that right, Bran?”

“It is, and they will. We'll talk about all this in the morning.”

“There's a question I'd have liked to ask before she walked out on us.” Doyle glanced at the doorway. “That was Malmon, I take it.”

“It was,” Sasha told him. “But not Malmon any longer.”

“So man into demon. And a demon who was just bitten by a werewolf—or lycan, as she prefers. Will the demon be turned by the bite?”

“Good question,” Sawyer said. “And would that be good or bad news for our side?”

B
ecause she wanted to surprise everyone, Annika slid out of bed very early. Quietly, she pulled on one of her dresses—one with all the favorite colors swirled over it, like a rainbow storm. With a glance back at Sawyer, she slipped from the room while he slept. As she went downstairs, she braided her hair. She wanted it out of the way for the work she would do.

She'd watched the cooking many times, and had been allowed to help. But today she would cook breakfast by herself while the others rested. Doyle had said the night before that because of battle and blood and the diving they would do that day, they could take a day off from the calisthenics.

Annika liked the calisthenics, but she suspected she was the only one who did.

She sang to herself as she chose pans and pots, and what she needed from the big silver box that kept things cold. The night had been full of fear and blood, but she had a good, strong feeling about the day to come.

If she could make a good breakfast, with no mistakes, the day
would be bright. Pouring herself juice, she shook her head at the machine that made coffee. Everyone liked coffee, but she didn't. She'd rather do calisthenics.

She drank the juice, so cool and fresh, then took a deep breath, hugged herself. Now she would make the bacon.

As the sun peeked through the eastern windows, she had a platter of bacon in the oven on the low, the way Sasha showed her, and a nice pile of the bread of France—French toast, she corrected herself—as Sawyer had showed her.

She would make the scrambled eggs and the potatoes that Bran made on his turn. Riley would be very hungry after her fast. And when everything was cooked, and in the warm, she would set the table.

She heard someone coming, too soon for her to finish as she'd hoped. But smiled when she saw Riley.

“Good morning! I can make you coffee.”

“Okay. I smell bacon.”

“I made bacon.” Delighted, Annika opened the oven, remembered the big mitts that kept hands protected from burns, and pulled out the platter.

“I'll say you did.” Riley took a handful at once. “Enough for an army.”

“I made too much?”

“I feel like an army,” Riley said with her mouth full. “French toast?” Without waiting, Riley grabbed a piece, stuffed it in.

“Is it good?”

“It's great. I'm starving. Where's Sasha?”

“Sleeping. Everyone's sleeping but you and me.”

Riley ate more bacon. “You're cooking solo?”

“By myself? Yes, a surprise. Sawyer and Sasha and you were hurt, and Doyle said no calisthenics.”

“Yay.”

“Do you have pain?”

“No, all good.” Still eating, Riley turned to the coffeemaker.

“I'll make it! You can sit. I like to make coffee, but I don't like to drink it.” She made a big mug, set it down, then hugged Riley. “You saved Bran and Sasha. I think you saved us all because when you came, the evil things went away.”

“I ran too far. I should've stayed closer. If I'd been back sooner—”

“I think you were here when needed. The demon Malmon hurt you, but you hurt him more, I think.”

“He clocked me a good one. He's Hulk Smash strong.”

“I don't understand.”

“Seriously strong. The coffee's good, Anni. I think you've just graduated to regular kitchen rotation.”

A beaming smile followed a quick gasp of joy. “Do you really think?”

“Don't know why it would thrill you, but yeah, I definitely think. Hey, Sash, looks like Anni leapfrogged into your slot today.”

“Oh, Riley, you're all right.”

“I am now,” she said and ate more bacon.

“Annika, you . . . you made all this?”

“Riley says it's good. I can be on rotation. Will you put me on the chart for cooking?”

“I will, and thank you for stepping in for me.”

“You feel good?”

“I'm fine. We're all fine. Since you're breakfast chef, I'll set the table.”

“I can do it.”

“Let me help.” Sasha ran a hand down Annika's arm. “After coffee.”

I
t pleased her so much she wanted to dance to see everyone eat her food. To have Sawyer kiss her as he reached over for more.

She'd made a meal for her family, and of all she'd learned it seemed the best.

“First question.” Doyle looked at Riley. “Will he turn? Malmon.”

Riley scooped up eggs. “That's something I've been thinking about most of the night. I've never bitten anyone—human or demon. Big-time violation, though that's for humans, and he's not. Not anymore. And the answer is, I don't know. New territory. I'm going to consult some experts on it, but it may be completely new territory.”

“If he does, when?” Sawyer asked.

“Not this moon. If he were human, he'd be pretty sick for this round. Chills, fever, and when the moon began to wane, he'd be fine again. Until the next moon.”

“But he's not human,” Doyle pointed out.

“Got that, and I'm going to consult, but I don't see any way for him to turn, if he turns, straight off. In any case, the first change is hard, especially for someone infected and not prepared and trained. The thing is, I don't know if a lycan bite infects a demon. I'm not sure anyone knows.”

“It may be wait and see then.” Considering, Bran drank more coffee. “I wasn't as prepared as I should have been. I couldn't see him, not clearly, and that I need to work on.”

“But you could,” Doyle said.

“I could see him.” Still eating, Riley nodded. “Ugly son of a bitch, which is nice and ironic as previously he considered himself God's gift. With apologies to God,” she added, and ate more. “I could see him, and see he'd homed in on Sasha. He'd have gone through Bran to get to her, but getting to her was the goal.”

“She wanted me dead—and wanted my blood. She'll have some of it.”

“I didn't stay close enough. I was distracted, and the change started before I'd taken care of things. Thanks for helping me with that.”

Doyle shrugged. “Never a problem to get a woman out of her clothes.”

“Cute. But it . . . Changing in front of anyone is . . . It's a private thing, and I reacted to how it went down. So I wasn't as close as I should have been. If I had been, she might not have the blood.”

“If you hadn't come when you did, she'd have Bran's blood, too, and I might be dead. So let's table any timing issue.”

“If the Malmon demon is also lycan from the bite, will he be stronger than Hulk Smash?”

“Hulk Smash.” Despite the possibility, Sawyer grinned. “Where did you get . . .” He shifted his gaze from Annika to Riley, nodded. Gave her a thumbs-up as he ate more French toast.

“Maybe, but not until the first change, and the first change will hit him hard—if he's infected. Let me make some calls and— Shit! Calls. My brain got scrambled. White. Dr. White.”

“Doyle said you connected. Get anything useful?” Sawyer asked.

“Yeah, I did—and he's sending more. Let me get my notes.”

“In my room.”

She paused, half out of her chair, to stare at Doyle. “What?”

“I took them to my room last night, to try to decipher them.”

“You can't go riffling through my things.”

“They were right there by the phone. You started to say something—looked like you'd struck some gold—then the sun went down.”

“My room, my notes. And you couldn't decipher them because I have my own code due to people who try to jump claims.”

Deliberately, he met her outrage with dismissal. “It's half-assed shorthand, Morse, and I'm pretty sure some Navajo. I'd've broken it in a few more hours.”

“My ass,” she said and stalked off.

“It's a good code,” Doyle said when she was out of earshot. “I'm surprised she can read it herself.”

“I'm going to get my maps.” Sawyer pushed up. “If she's got a direction, maybe I can verify, or pin it down. Maybe this is enough.”

“Just Capri,” Sasha told him. “Because it's here. I'm absolutely
sure. I need . . .” She, too, got to her feet. “I need to paint. Don't wait for me.”

“What is it?”

“I don't know,” she said to Bran, “but I will. It's today. I know that. It's today, and I have to . . . Don't wait for me.”

“Should you go with her?” Sawyer asked.

“No, let her begin without distractions.”

“Where the hell is Sasha going?” Riley demanded. “I think I have big news here.”

“As she does.”

“Vision time,” Sawyer said. “We're supposed to go on this without her.”

“Fine. Okay, it started falling into place about halfway through the conversation with White. He's smart, but boy does he ramble, and he takes winding paths. Anyway.” She set down her notes. “He's a proponent of the Bay of Sighs–slash–Island of Glass connection. He's eliminated Atlantis from the mix—that took a while for him to wade through. He thinks he's dated the rebellion and the disconnect to about three thousand years ago, and during that time, while the island goes where and how it chooses, shows itself to those it chooses, the bay's been adrift. Powerless, rudderless, you could say. And those imprisoned in its waters—his words—sigh and sing in the hopes of calling to a redeemer.”

She flipped a page over. “And catch this. The redeemer, like they once were, is of the land, of the sea, seeks and is sought, and will come, defy the witches and monsters, will redeem them, help them redeem themselves when a star, a queen star, falls from the sky into the bay.”

“We've been looking for the bloody bay,” Doyle began.

“There's more, and here's where I got it. The star, blue as the bay, the bay, blue as the star, are one until the redeemer lifts it from the hand of the queen of the sea who holds it safe for the queen of all.”

Riley looked up expectantly. “Don't you get it?”

“We're supposed to find the queen of the sea now?” Doyle demanded. “Would that be Salacia, as we're into the Romans here?”

“Yeah, it would be, and I've got a pretty good idea where to find her. Wife of Neptune. Look, Tiberius retired here, right, and built his palaces, his villas—and commissioned a lot of statues. Some of which have been found in the one place we figured was off the list.”

“The Blue Grotto,” Sawyer declared as his compass glowed and began to move over the map.

“The Blue Grotto, once feared by locals because they believed witches and monsters lived there. Once used by Tiberius, who placed statues in the cave. Some have been found, and it's believed there could be more—deeper.”

“It's a tourist attraction,” Doyle pointed out.

“Now it is. He's got more theories and papers—but White, he's going in the wrong direction. He's focusing right now on Florida. I mean, seriously? Blue as the star.”

She shifted to Annika. “And what do we have here? Why, we have a guardian who is of the land and of the sea. You're up, Anni.”

“But I don't know where to find the queen and her hand. I've been in the waters there, but never heard the sighs or the songs before this.”

“It wasn't time,” Bran said simply. “We weren't together, and it's clear this quest demands that. Sawyer's compass agrees. The Blue Grotto. Now we work our way to diving for the star in a place where they sell tickets to tourists.”

“Not at night, they don't,” Riley pointed out. “It's closed at night, and diving's not permitted—though I betcha it happens. The problem with that is I have two more nights before I can strap on a tank.”

“Bubble helmet. I saw it on YouTube,” Sawyer told her. “Scuba-diving dog. Cat, too. Awesome.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Since it would take longer to outfit you when you go furry than to wait, it doesn't work here. But it could—just saying.”