Bay of Sighs (5 page)

S
he liked working with Bran, not only because of his patience, but the delight of his magicks. She had no skill as a witch, but he'd shown her during their time on Corfu how to crush leaves or petals, how to measure.

He could and did make weapons, like the potions of light and power that had defeated Nerezza and her beasts on Corfu. He could call the lightning and use it as skillfully as the others used gun or bow or sword. She had witnessed what he could do, and believed his power greater than any witch she'd known. Even greater than the sea witch or sorcerer.

But he would spend much time on the healing arts as well. Though she understood some felt fear or illness at the sight of wounds and blood, Annika saw a need. And felt pride when Bran told her she had a skill for healing.

She had no wish to be a warrior, though she accepted the war. Her weapons were her speed and agility—in and out of the water. And the bracelets that shot power or blocked it.

When Sasha joined them, Annika made an excuse to leave them. Because they were in love, and time between lovers was precious. She wandered the house, familiarizing herself with its chambers—rooms, she corrected.

Following Riley's voice, she stepped into one flooded with light, where Riley paced and talked very fast on the phone in a mix of English and Italian.

“
Che cazzo
, Fabio! What kind of deal is that? Two weeks minimum, and likely four or six weeks.
Stronzate
. Don't try to hose me. I could go to a stranger and get a better rate. Okay, that's what I'll do. Oh, and I'll be contacting your mother while I'm here. She and I really need to have a nice chat because I find my memory about that night in Naples is coming back. Same to you,
amico.
”

She listened, listened, her smile going sharp and satisfied. “
Quanto?
Better, some better, but . . . I really miss talking to your mother. Oh, that's for two weeks? Now you're talking. That works, you keep the deposit either way. What's that?”

Riley threw back her head and laughed. “Baby, you
wish
I was squeezing your balls. Four-week minimum's a deal. We'll pick it up tomorrow. She'd better be seaworthy, Fabio, or remember how I pulled your ass out of the fire in Naples? I'll be shoving it right back in.
Ciao
.”

She swiped off the call, swaggered over to Annika. “High-five.”

When Annika looked toward the ceiling, Riley laughed again. “No, no, slap my hand. It's a high five. It's a fucking A. We've got a boat, and I wrangled the cost down.” She rolled her shoulders. “I did squeeze the little asshole's balls.”

“What kind of balls?”

Riley pointed at her crotch. “Those kind.”

“Oh, yes. I know those kind. But how did you squeeze his balls when . . . It's an expression.”

“You're catching on. The diving equipment was easy. Fabio's cousin
Anna Maria's in charge of that, and she's giving us rock-bottom rate. I'd have taken Fabio's next-to-the-last rate if he hadn't tried to squeeze
my
balls first. Anyway.” She shoved the phone in her pocket, dusted her palms together. “Done. And I've got the sister of a friend's boyfriend who'll lend us his van for gas and beer if we need it.

“So, where's everyone else?”

“Sasha and Bran are up the stairs making magicks. I think Sawyer and Doyle are still in the grove for the training part.”

“All right then. You need to put on pants.”

“Pants.”

“Yeah, those ones that hit about here?” Riley tapped the flat of her hand just above her knee. “The ones with all the pockets. And the tank you can tuck into them. I want to work on some of my moves, and you've got the best. And we'll work on your hand-to-hand. But you can't go doing flips in that dress, especially since there's nothing under it.”

“I like dresses better than pants.”

“Maybe so, but when you go commando and do handsprings and flips, you're flashing.”

“Flashing?”

“The girl parts, Anni. The parts we tend—right or wrong—to think of as private. Maybe we'll get you some bike shorts. You could wear them under a dress.”

“Bike shorts.”

“We'll look into it. But for now, go ahead and change. I'll see if Bran can spare Sasha. She needs the work.”

“She does better.”

“Yeah, she does,” Riley agreed as they started upstairs. “You're a good coach.”

“Thank you. I like to help.”

Pleased, even if she had to wear pants, Annika went to her room to change, and wound her hair into a long, thick braid.

She left her windows open, and though she would go outside, took a moment to lean out, drink in the air, the fragrance, her view of the sea.

On the narrow road below, she saw people walking up the steep, steep hill in boots and shorts. Maybe they were bike shorts, but she knew what a bike was, and they didn't have one.

She saw bushes and trees full of blooms, and, farther out, people on the sickle of beach, boats plying the blue water.

Sometimes she liked to swim beneath boats, look up at their shadows and try to guess where they would go.

But today she saw a woman walking slowly up the steep road and pushing a fat-cheeked baby in a . . . walker, runner . . . Stroller! A stroller. Plastic bags hung heavily off the sides of the stroller, and another bag crowded into its little basket.

The baby laughed and clapped her chubby hands as the woman sang.

Annika wished she could paint like Sasha. She would have painted the woman and the baby, laughing with the long, high road still ahead of them.

The woman looked up, caught Annika's eye. So Annika waved.

“Buongiorno,”
the woman called out.

She had bits of languages, because she liked to listen and learn.
“Buongiorno,”
she called back. Not sure how to make the sentence, she mixed her languages together. “You and your
bambina
are
bella
.” Annika held out her hands.
“Bella.”

The woman laughed, angled her head.
“Grazie, signorina. Grazie mille.”

And singing again, the woman and her baby continued the steep climb.

Her mood buoyed by them, Annika danced downstairs and outside to train for war.

She saw Sasha and Riley on the strip of lawn between the pool
and the lemon grove. Pretty plants and bushes added color at the edges, and the tall, slim trees formed a green wall.

Not so much room, so they'd have to . . . practice smaller.

Still she enjoyed watching Riley work with Sasha on the hand-to-hand. A punch, a pivot, a kick. Like a dance.

After a short run, Annika executed a double handspring, landed soft, and mimed punching both of her friends with the backs of her fists.

“Show-off.” Sasha grumbled it.

“There's not so much grass, but it's very nice. You can practice your rolls, Sasha.” Annika rolled her hands to demonstrate. “Then the jump up.”

“Double roll,” Riley decided. “Come up, side kick, backhand.”

“Seriously?”

“You need to start combining the flips and tumbles with the rest. You're wicked good with a crossbow, pal, but we all know you can't always fight at a distance. Agility, mobility, power. Right, Anni?”

“This is right.”

“Make her do it first.” Sasha jabbed a finger at Riley.

“You want me to do it first? I'm first.”

Riley slapped her hands together, rolled her shoulders, flexed her knees a few times. Then she sprang forward, landing on her hands, tucked into a roll, a second roll, then pushed up, kicking one leg out to the right, her arm with its fisted hand to the left.

Annika applauded.

“Don't encourage her,” Sasha mumbled.

“You can do it, Sasha. Remember. Tight, tight.” Annika tapped a hand on Sasha's belly. “Power there, power in your legs.”

“Okay.” Shaking her arms, Sasha blew out a breath. “Okay. Tight, tight, power, spring, roll, kick. Oh, God.”

She gave herself a short, running start, threw her body over for the handspring.

Annika nodded, then winced, because while the spring was very good, the roll went off-center, the second roll more off-center. So when Sasha tried to heave herself to her feet, she landed on her face.

“Damn it!”

“Ten out of ten for the face-plant,” Riley decided.

Sasha rolled over, gave Riley the beady eye.

“You did the handspring very well.” Annika crouched down, rubbed Sasha's shoulders.

“Right.”

“No, I think left. This is left, yes?” Holding up her left hand, Annika wiggled her fingers. “You did the handspring, but then you tipped to the left on the roll, and more left on the next. You had no center, so no balance. I'll show you, slower than Riley.”

She stood, didn't bother with the running start but seemed to fold over like water from a pitcher.

“Tight, tight in the center,” she said as she tucked, rolled. “Keep tight, knees go loose to push up.” Fluidly, she flowed up to her feet, shot one leg out, one arm. Held the pose like a statue.

“Can I just throw rocks at the bad guys?”

“Sometimes.” Annika smiled. “But you can do this. I'll help you. Tight, tight,” she repeated. “Like squeezing. Try.”

This time, though she stayed on her feet, Annika moved with her—gave Sasha a tiny nudge on the roll. “Squeeze! Tight! Tight, tight, and push!”

Sasha landed—wobbled, but landed. Regained her balance, executed the kick and backhand.

“Good! So good.” Annika applauded again.

“I tipped left again. I could feel it.”

“But not so much as before.”

“You pulled it off,” Riley told her. “Do it again.”

“Okay. Okay. Don't help me this time. If I fall on my face, I fall on my face. But I'm going to get this bastard.”

“That's the spirit.” Riley slapped her on the shoulder.

She did it again, wobbled again, nearly overbalanced, but pulled back.

“Together,” Annika decided. “All three.”

“Oh boy, okay.”

“Tight. A fist in the belly.”

Riley nodded. “On three. One, two, three!”

S
awyer stopped at the edge of the lemon grove. “Check it out.”

With Doyle, he watched the three women spring, roll, spear up. “The brunette's got speed and form,” Doyle commented. “The blonde's got game, and she's coming along. But the mer-girl? Makes it look like a stroll on the beach.”

“You'd think there'd be an adjustment for her—moving in water, on land. But either way, she just flows.”

“Great legs.”

Doyle started forward again as the three women discussed something with Annika gesturing with her hands. And stopped to watch when Riley shook her head, but backed up. And laced her hands into a basket.

Annika ran toward her, jumped to hit one foot in that basket, and as Riley pushed up, flew into a perfect backflip to land in what Sawyer thought of as the Superhero Lunge. Low, one knee bent, the other leg cocked out, one hand resting on the ground.

“I should be taking videos,” Sawyer added.

Then Annika spotted them, leaped up to run forward.

“Come practice with us!”

“I could practice the rest of my life and not pull that off.”

“I can teach you.”

“Bet you could,” Doyle put in, “but we need to take a hike, get a better sense of where we are, our position, our weak spots.”

“Agreed.” Riley nodded, then looked up at the wide blue sky. “But that's a big weak spot.”

“We'll need to be ready for it.”

“Bran's working on it, and could probably use a break from that. I'll go tell him we're heading out. Ten minutes?” Sasha asked.

“Works for me.” Sawyer smiled at Annika. “You'll need shoes.”

They set out with light packs, taking the narrow road up its steep incline first. The day, already warm, offered a baking sun over their bird's-eye view of sea and sand, of houses jogging down the long slope in their soft roses and whites and umbers.

As they walked, Sawyer drew maps in his head. He was good at maps—had learned at his grandfather's knee. The compass—a gift, a charge, a legacy—required knowledge of place and time. The hand that held it, the traveler, needed more than luck and magicks.

They passed groves of olives, of lemons, and he added them to his mental guide. The gardens, the houses with shuttered windows, the ones with windows open to the air.

From their high view, Riley pointed toward the mainland.

“Capri used to be part of the mainland, and was peopled during the Neolithic age. Colonized by the Teleboi, then the Greeks of Cumae. The Romans took it over in 328 BC.

“But Augustus—ninth century—developed it. Temples, gardens, villas, the aqueducts. Tiberius, who came after him, built more. And the remains of his villa are on top of Monte Tiberio. We're heading that way, though it's a hike yet.”