Bay of Sighs (27 page)

“The man with the gun didn't have a red shirt. It was brown.”

Now Sawyer smiled. “
Star Trek
. We have to catch you up.”

“It means expendable,” Riley explained. “The crewman in the red shirt going on the mission isn't going to make it back.”

“Why doesn't he change his shirt?”

Now Sawyer laughed until the pain bloomed in his side, bringing on a hiss.

“You have pain.”

“It only hurts when I laugh.”

“Don't laugh.”

He reached for Annika's hand, squeezed. “Felt good anyway. So he has Yadin unhook the chain I'm hanging by, and has Red Shirt put the gun in my ear, get me in a headlock. He gives me ninety seconds—I said I needed two minutes. I didn't, but I figured he'd cut that back. If I'm not back in ninety, he takes Anni out—hits her with enough voltage to give her brain damage. He has Yadin give her a couple good jolts, just to prove his point. Then he gave me the compass, and I fed in coordinates.”

“Is Red Shirt wondering what the hell he's doing on some island in the South Pacific?” Riley wondered.

Sawyer shook his head, picked up the measly half glass of wine. Drank it down in one gulp. “No. I couldn't risk it. I couldn't have taken him out on a one-to-one, and the time . . . So I let him go.”

“Let him go?” Doyle repeated.

“I disconnected. I just let him go. He's gone.” The color the food had brought back to his face drained again. “You swear never to use the compass to hurt anyone, but I did. It's one thing to kill in battle, but I just let him go.”

“He had a gun to your head,” Riley reminded him. “And Annika's life was on the line.”

“I know it. I know that. But—”

“You're thinking with great power comes great responsibility.”

He nodded at Riley. “Uncle Ben was right.”

“The rice guy?”

Sawyer laughed again until it became a wheeze. “Jesus, Sash, you're as bad as Anni. Peter Parker's uncle Ben. Spider-Man. And it's true, the responsibility. I've never killed anyone before they came at us underwater the other day, and that was battle. This was . . .”

“The same. It's the same,” Doyle insisted. “He had a weapon, as did you. You used what you had to save Annika, and yourself. That, brother, was your responsibility.”

“An' it harm none.” Bran spoke the words gravely. “This is my sacred oath. I've never used my gift to harm another human being. Until this. And though this weighs on me as well, I know what was done was done to protect, to fight evil.”

“They are right. I don't like fighting, and killing is against all I believe, but I would be dead, and you as well. You were only gone seconds, it seemed,” Annika continued. “I was so weak—and I prayed you wouldn't come back. I knew you would, in my heart, because you're Sawyer. And I knew they would kill us both. I could feel it. As soon as this Malmon had what he wanted, he would give us to Yadin to kill in a terrible way. And then you were there, inside the glass with me, under the water with me. I knew we would live because you had the courage and the will to do what had to be done. If you think this was wrong, then you're wrong. If anyone believes you failed to honor your oath, they are wrong and stupid.”

“Damn skippy.” Because Annika's eyes were full of tears, Riley reached across the table for her hands. “Damn skippy, Anni.”

“It weighs on us.” Sasha rose, poured another half glass of wine for Sawyer. “On all of us. We killed men. Humans. And it weighs.”

“Dying weighs more,” Riley said.

“And more than that, than even that,” Sasha continued, “would be to fail. We're the guardians—the stars are our power and our responsibility. No one's broken an oath, or broken faith. They watch us, the goddesses, the guardians. They watch the six who came from them, and they see we take our power, shoulder our responsibility, keep our vows and our faith. To take a life is grief, to lose our lives is failure. The dark follows that failure across all the worlds.”

“Was that you?” Riley asked after a beat of silence, “Or
you
? You had that seer look in your eyes.”

“Some of both.” Sasha let out an audible breath. “Wherever it's from, it's truth. And here's another. Sawyer, if I'm following what you've reported, what Annika told us, you traveled with a gun to your head—and this after being shot, stabbed, electrocuted, and tortured—you disconnected, which was hard for you, but absolutely necessary, then you went back for Annika. In the tank. Does that mean you had to use her as your . . . beacon?”

“Yeah, that's as good a term as any. I had the cave coordinates, but not the exact place where she was. I had to zero in on her, get inside to get her out.”

“And fast,” Sasha continued. “Then you traveled again, here, with her. That's three shifts inside what, ninety seconds?”

“About that.”

“And that sort of traveling drains you, even if you're feeling like a party. You'd lost God knows how much blood, you were hung up like a side of beef and beaten, and worse, while you had to watch them hurt Annika, which is more torture. But you did what you had to do, and got back, barely alive. Am I right about that part?” she asked Bran.

“It was close, closer than I'd like.”

“Exactly. So I don't want to hear any more
bullshit
out of you about any of it.”

“Damn skippy,” Annika said. Then laid her head on the table and wept.

“Oh, come on. Don't, don't, don't do that.” Desperate, Sawyer stroked her hair, rubbed her back. When he tried to just haul her up and onto his lap, he found he didn't have the strength. “You're killing me, Anni.”

“No, no, they are almost all happy tears.” She wrapped herself around him. “Almost all. We're here, we're all here, talking. And I heard you laugh, even though it hurt you, I heard you laugh.”

She brushed kisses over his face, met his lips, and simply drowned herself in him.

“Want some privacy?” Riley wondered.

“If only,” Sawyer murmured. “I don't think I could manage it.”

“There will be sex again.” Through tears, Annika smiled at him. “When you're healed. I will be very gentle until you're strong again.”

He ignored Doyle's snort of laughter. “Good to know. So okay, no bullshit.” He picked up his wine, studied it. “Power honored, responsibility met. I'll get there. There was more to the need to rush, to do what I had to do. Malmon called Berger in. He told him to kill Sasha. He wanted Bran wounded, but Sasha dead. He wanted the rest taken alive, so he ordered Trake to bring a team down here to take care of that while Berger took Sasha out.”

“You worry Nerezza,
fáidh
.” Under the table, Bran took her hand. “She can't force her will on you, can't pull your power away and into herself as she believed. You worried for all of us,” he said to Sawyer. “But we'd prepared for exactly that.”

“Yeah, I figured Berger for toast, but still. The tank shook. Did the tank shake?” he asked Annika. “The light—it exploded?”

“Yes. Just as you came for me. Malmon ran, but he couldn't have run fast enough to escape the light.”

“We were dealing with Trake and company when you were heading in,” Riley continued. “We were ready for them. Bran set off the chain reaction up in the hills, and we had plenty more for them here. There . . . was nothing left of them. Wounding with the newly magickalized—I'm going with that word—weaponry, it puts a world of hurt on them. But a kill shot, it just obliterates. Nothing left.”

“No bodies to dispose of. That's the cold truth here,” Doyle added when Sasha winced.

“You're right,” she said. “I know you're right. Bran and Riley went up to the cave yesterday. We had to check, and after some heated debate, Riley went, Doyle stayed. We couldn't take the chance of Bran going alone, or of leaving us underprotected here. So . . .”

“Nothing left,” Bran told him. “The cave is just a cave. There
was . . . a smear of something on the air, something dark. But faint and fading.”

“We salted the ground, and Bran did a cleansing.” Riley shrugged. “And that was that.”

“So we won that round. We have to go back to the search,” Sawyer said. “We have to get moving on it before she figures out how she'll come at us next.”

Sasha picked up her wine again. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“We go as six or not at all. Until you're strong enough to dive, it's not at all.”

“Jesus, I can handle a little swimming. Another little boost from Bran's magick potion, I could do a triathlon.”

Saying nothing, Doyle leaned over, gave Sawyer a light punch on the shoulder. And Sawyer saw stars.

“Fuck!”

“You're on the DL, brother, until you can take a love tap without whining.”

“Love tap, my ass.”

“The stars have waited centuries,” Bran pointed out. “They can wait a few more days. When she does come again, we need you.”

“I can tell you when having sex causes him no pain.”

“That's a good benchmark.” Kicking back, Riley gestured with her beer. “And maybe you should be specific. Like what kind of sex.”

“And how long he lasts,” Doyle added, and made Riley grin.

“They're messing with us, Annika. Kidding.”

“I'm absolutely serious.” Riley cocked her head at Doyle. “You?”

“Deadly. Keep us updated, Gorgeous.”

“I will. And when he's healed, we'll find the Bay of Sighs. We know we must be close because I heard them again.”

“What? When?”

“When you were bringing me back. Didn't you hear them sigh, hear them sing?”

“I . . .” He cast his mind back. “I thought it was you. I did hear something. Jesus, I did.”

“And I've got something,” Riley put in. “Since you've been in your magickally induced coma, I've been able to spend more time on it. I've got some nibbles.”

“And now you tell us?” Doyle demanded.

“I got the nibbles right before Sleeping Beauty here woke up. I was coming out to report. There is a legend. I know a guy who knows a guy who knows. But the guy who knows is currently on a retreat, so I can't tap him for more data for a couple days. Meanwhile, I'm digging on my own. Like most legends, it has a lot of variations, but the one that strikes me connects the Bay of Sighs to the Island of Glass.”

“Interesting.” Bran leaned forward. “What do you know?”

“Know, not much. Speculate, a lot more. In the version I'm leaning toward, at one time, long ago, the bay and the island were connected. And like the legends regarding the island, the bay moved, and could only be seen by a chosen few.”

Since she'd swapped research for lunch, Riley helped herself to some pasta.

“Then we've got a race of people who shared the island. A race that could live on land and in water, and did so peacefully. All's happy and joy until some dude—names vary, but most common is Odhran.”

“That's an Irish name,” Doyle said.

“Got that. So Odhran decided, hey, we can live on land or in the sea, why shouldn't we have everything? They've got that fancy castle on the hill. Maybe I want to have that. And we're better and stronger than they are.”

Bran nodded. “A popular excuse for war.”

“Yeah, and they got one. First, they lured people into the bay, drowned them.”

“With the songs?”

“Not clear,” Riley told Annika, “but possible. Then they burned, pillaged, on their way to storming the castle. But the queen ruling them wasn't afraid to fight back. Which she did. I've got variety again. Raining fire, earthquakes, her riding a winged horse and sweeping the ever-popular fiery sword, and so on. But the result's basically the same in my research. While the rebels scattered, tried to get back to the bay, the queen rounded them up. She gave them a choice. Death or banishment. Odhran chose death, and got it—according to most of my digging. So did a few others. But the bulk chose banishment. So she blew the bay out to sea. She would spare their lives, and some were innocents. But they would float and wander forever, cast away from their home. Or in some versions until one who came from them redeemed them. Redeemed, they could once again join with the island and live in peace.”

“Mermaids?” As he spoke, Sawyer ran a hand down Annika's hair.

“I have never heard this story,” she told them. “It is not one we sing of in my world.”

“It's pretty damn obscure,” Riley said. “And I've yet to find the source. But like Doyle said, the rebel leader's name's of Irish origin. Or English. In some it's spelled Odran, and that's the English variation.”

“There must be more.”

Riley gestured at Bran. “I'm looking, but this is the first layer I've uncovered. It fits. I've been trying to translate varieties from Greek, Latin, and some old Irish. And I'll keep at it.”

“I can help with that.”

Intrigued, she shifted her gaze to Doyle. “You read Greek, Latin, and old Irish?”

“Well enough.”

“Okay then. And when I can contact the guy who supposedly knows more, I'll tap him for it. But all in all, it feels like we're being pointed toward the Bay of Sighs.”

“The trick is to find it. Annika's heard it twice when we're traveling. I could—”

“Recover.” Sasha simply cut him off. “No diving, no heavy lifting, no traveling until you're fully healed. It's five to one on that, Sawyer. No point in arguing.”

Because whatever Bran had given him was wearing off, and he felt as if he could sleep a week, he didn't.

“You should rest again.” Rising Annika took his hand.

“Don't argue there either. I can feel your pain coming back,” Sasha told him. “Sleep's healing. Anni, do you have enough balm?”