Bay of Sighs (8 page)

“Of course.”

He walked to the bar, poured whiskey for two. Taking charge, taking control—he thought—by not asking what she'd prefer.

He came back, sat across from her. They touched glasses.

“And what brings you to me, Nerezza?”

“Your reputation, of course. You're the man I need, Andre.” She sipped, watching him. “You will be the one I need. And for my needs, when fulfilled, I can offer you more than anything you've had. Dreamed of having.”

“I have much, have dreamed of more.”

“If it's money, I have all you require. But there are things worth more than gold and silver.”

“Such as?”

“We'll speak of that, but tonight we'll speak of stars. What do you know of the Stars of Fortune?”

“A myth. Three stars, fire, water, ice, created by three goddesses to honor a young queen. And cursed by another.”

Her lips curved into a smile sharp enough to slice bone. “What do you think of myths?”

“That many are uncommonly real.”

“As these are real, these stars, I assure you. I want them. You will find them and bring them to me.”

Her eyes were bottomless, lured him into the black. But pride demanded he resist. “Will I?”

“You will. Six stand in your way.”

“No one stands in my way for long.”

“So I have seen, or I would not waste my time, or yours. If you accept the challenge, if you wish to know what I will give you in return, come to the address on my card, tomorrow at midnight.”

“There's no address on the card.”

She smiled, rose. “Come there, and know your own fortune. Until then.”

She glided out before he had the wit to stand. But when he strode to the doorway, she was gone. As if she'd vanished.

He pulled the card out of his pocket, saw he'd been wrong.

An address was clearly printed on the card.

Fascinated, baffled, more than a little unnerved, he pressed the house intercom. “Lucien.”

“Sir?”

“Where did she go?”

“I'm sorry, sir, where did who go?”

“The woman, the woman in black, you idiot. Who else? Why did you let her in without permission?”

“Sir, no one has come to the house tonight. I let no one inside.”

Furious, he strode away, calling for Nigel. His anger grew until he stormed downstairs, following temper into the butler's apartment.

When he saw Nigel hanging from his parlor chandelier, he stopped dead.

And laughed.

He was no longer bored.

W
ith dawn came the soft, shimmering light and the diamond drops of dew on the grass.

And with dawn came calisthenics.

Annika liked calisthenics. She liked dropping down and giving Doyle twenty. The squats and lunges, the shuffles and the jumping jacks were like dancing—the moans and grunts and pants (especially from Sasha) always made her laugh.

Sawyer called Doyle a fucking drill sergeant, and that made her laugh, too. She understood the fuck word was a curse—so versatile!—and used a lot during calisthenics. She understood drill was a tool. But the only sergeants she knew were the sergeant majors, the name land people gave the little striped fish who liked swimming in the reef.

Imagining big, handsome Doyle as a little fish boring into coral made her laugh through her pull-ups.

“What's so funny?” Sweaty, face pink from exertion, Sasha scowled as she braced for her own pull-ups.

“Doyle is a drill sergeant major. Sawyer said.”

“A . . .” Sasha sneered over at Doyle, who stood signaling her to
start. “You're now a fish,” she called out to him, then mumbled, “God, help me.”

She did one cleanly, a second reasonably well, and a third very shakily, her face going toward red with effort, wet with fresh sweat. Her arms visibly trembled.

Annika started to applaud, and Sasha hissed.

“I've got one more. Goddamn it.”

Annika held her breath because Sasha made a sound of awful pain, almost a scream, but her friend pulled up on her trembling arms, managed the fourth before she dropped to the ground in a panting heap.

“Good job,” Doyle told her. “Sloppy form, but gutsy. Shoot for five tomorrow.”

“Shoot for five, my butt. I might shoot you tomorrow.”

“That's the spirit.” Reaching down, he hauled her to her feet and out of the way. “You're up, Gwin.”

Riley set, did a smooth dozen in the time it had taken Sasha to strain out four.

“I might shoot you, too,” Sasha said darkly. “I might just be in the mood for a double homicide.”

“You did four,” Annika reminded her. “The first time, you couldn't do even one, but today, you did four.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Then Sasha blew out a long breath. “Yeah,” she said in a stronger tone. “And tomorrow I'll shoot for five.”

They had breakfast, and did the morning chores Sasha had listed on the new chart. Then it was time to hike to the marina.

Annika wanted to run. She could barely wait to dive into the sea. But she liked watching how Bran and Sasha held hands, or how Doyle and Riley argued over who would drive the boat.

The air smelled beautiful, with the breeze bringing scents of sea and flowers, of the lemons, of the grass. The walk provided gardens to admire, the flight of birds. And time with Sawyer.

“Will you take pictures in the water?”

“Yeah, I'm set for it.”

“If you taught me how to use the camera, I could take pictures of you. When you take them, you aren't in the picture.”

“I got a couple selfies.” He demonstrated by holding his arm out, pretended to click a camera.

“Oh! That's clever.”

“But I can teach you. Never hurts to have a backup for documenting.”

“Then I can help you take pictures in the water, and out of the water. I hope we can walk in the hills.” She gestured toward the mountains. “I know we might find her there, have to fight her there, and the quest is the most important. But the walk would be exciting and new. All the things to see we haven't seen before.”

He gave her a shoulder bump she knew was a sign of affection. “Gotta have the bright side.”

“The bright side helps us face the dark.”

“Can't argue.”

“In the last battle, I was afraid. I believe we'll win, we'll do what we're meant to do, but I was afraid.”

In a gesture she knew was affection and comfort, he brushed her arm with his hand. It made her want to sigh.

“We're all afraid, Anni.”

Surprised, she looked up at him. “No one seemed afraid but me.”

“Every last one of us,” he corrected. “If we weren't afraid, we'd be crazy. You know what courage is.” He said it, didn't ask it, but she nodded.

“It's bravery. It's facing the dark.”

“That's right. It's facing the dark, even when you're afraid. That's every one of us, too.”

She tipped her head toward his shoulder, knowing since he thought her brave, she could be braver still.

“Why don't you have a mate?”

“A . . . Well, um, I've had to move around a lot. Getting to this point, it's taken some doing.”

“But there was sex?”

He took off his hat, swiped his fingers through the thick, streaky blond hair she wanted to swipe hers through. After he settled the hat again, he pushed his hands into his pockets.

“You know, if you want to know about that kind of thing, you should talk to Riley or Sasha.”

“Oh, I know about sex. It's not so different in my world. We can have sex as we like. It's a bright side.”

He had to laugh. “Definitely qualifies.”

“But when we find our mate, when we pledge, there's no other after. Like Bran and Sasha, there is only one.”

“That's nice. It's what most people hope for.”

“So there has been sex for you, but no mate.”

“There you go.”

The way went narrow, with buildings closing in. He distracted her from talk of sex by pointing to a shop window.

“Oh, we can come back to shop! I have the itch.”

“Tell me. You've always got a shopping itch.”

“No, no, the payment. The . . .
scratch
!”

Though he grinned, he draped an arm over her shoulders to steer her away from a shop window. “Right.”

“Look at the pretty food.”

Pastries and little cakes, pretty as jewels, tempted behind the glass.

“We should definitely grab some pastries to take home. And down there? Gelato.”

“What is it?”

“Outstanding.”

“Outstanding,” she repeated as they navigated the steep, narrow street.

Sawyer took her hand. The retail shops might not be open yet, but he'd had the experience of shopping with her in Corfu, and knew she could run off impulsively, like a terrier after a squirrel.

“I'll buy you a gelato on the way back,” he promised.

“Thank you.”

“But we've got to head straight to the boat now.”

“This village? It's all very big, and very small. They have vegetables and fruit there—” She pointed to a stand. “Look at the colors, the shapes. I don't know what some of them are. Are they all for eating?”

“Yeah. Some as they are. Some you want to cook first.”

She looked at everything, absorbed everything. He found it part of her charm. She ran her fingers over the walls of buildings to test the texture, would surely have run after a stray cat if he hadn't had a good grip on her. But he managed to steer her along, keep up with the others as they passed people sitting at tables outside cafes with their little breakfast cakes and strong coffee, through a cluster of colorful homes, beyond the hotels with their awnings and umbrellas, and toward the boats and piers and docks.

“There.” Riley pointed toward a boat, much like they'd used in Corfu.

The . . . Annika had to dig for the name, but found it. The rigid-hulled inflatable.

Then Riley nodded toward a skinny man with a lot of teeth who walked toward them. The many teeth in a wide, wide smile made Annika think of a shark.

“I've got this.”

Riley strode forward, began an animated conversation in Italian. Annika recognized some of the words, and some of them were rude ones.

Sasha took out her sketchbook, and started to draw the world around the marina—the spread of awnings, tables, buildings, the stack of buildings climbing up to the tall, tall hills.

“He wants more money,” Doyle told them. “She's telling him, in various ways, to stick it.”

Obviously confident in Riley winning the day, Doyle swung onto the boat.

“She said—” Annika struggled for the words. “Something about his ass and a hole.”

On a laugh, Sawyer tugged her toward the boat. “She called him an asshole. It's an insult.”

“An asshole makes a bargain then tries not to keep it.”

“Among other asshole behavior.”

Riley came back, and the skinny man didn't show as many teeth. “Fabio, my team. Team, Fabio. The dive club's just down there. Fabio's graciously agreed to give me a hand with the equipment, but we could use a couple more.”

“I'll go with you.
Come va,
Fabio?”

Fabio showed Sawyer more teeth.
“Bene.”

“I'll go with them.” Bran kissed Sasha on the forehead, strolled away with Sawyer.

It didn't take long. They wheeled back the tanks and the wet suits and the equipment the others needed to survive under the water. And a cooler full of ice and water, and even some of the fruit juices she liked, and the Cokes—she liked them, too.

While they loaded it, secured it, there was a lot of talk in Italian, but without the rude words now.

And at last—at
last
—they were all on board, and skinny Fabio released the ropes that held them to the dock.

Riley tapped two fingers to the brim of her hat. “
Ciao,
Fabio. You fuckhead,” she added in a mutter.

“A fuckhead is an asshole?”

Riley tipped down her shady glasses so her tawny eyes laughed into Annika's. “A fuckhead is a really big asshole. My friend Anna Maria, who is neither asshole nor fuckhead, says we can moor the
RIB at the dive club while we're here. It'll make loading and unloading easier.”

Riley walked forward to what they called a wheelhouse, where Doyle worked the controls. “I pilot today, remember?”

“Just getting us away from the fuckhead.” But he stepped aside, gave her the wheel.

Then they were skimming over the water, nearly as good as being in its heart. Doyle stepped out of the wheelhouse to go over the equipment.

“I don't need the tank,” Annika began.

“Better if you gear up, like the rest of us.”

“We could run into other divers,” Sawyer explained. “People would notice if you're diving without equipment.”

“So I just pretend.”

“That's right.”

“I can do that.”

“We stick together,” Bran reminded them as Annika stripped down to her bathing suit. And as Sawyer tried not to watch her strip down. “However unlikely Nerezza's found us this quickly, we can't take chances. Everybody stays in sight.” He glanced toward Sasha.

“I don't feel anything. But I appreciate everyone keeping me in sight, in case I start any underwater dream-walking.”

“I'll look out for you,” Annika told her.

“I know you will.”

“We'll say, as it worked before, Sawyer and Annika at point, Sasha and I behind, and Doyle and Riley at flank. All right?”

“Works for me.” Sawyer zipped up his wet suit. “First time I've started a dive knowing I'm swimming with a mermaid.” He grinned at Annika. “Adds to it.”

“But keep the legs, Gorgeous,” Doyle warned as Riley turned inland toward high cliffs.

“I promise. Unless there is an attack.”

“Speaking of, any luck on the bolts, bullets, and blades?” Doyle asked as he hefted a harpoon.

“Considerable, but it needs work yet. A few more days, then we'll see. For now, should we say one harpoon to each set of buddies? With Sasha's skills with a crossbow, I'd say she's the one in ours.”

“Oh.”

Doyle passed her the harpoon. “Can you handle it?”

Sasha frowned at it, tested its weight. “Yes. I can do this.”

“I don't want one,” Annika said immediately.

“It's okay, I've got it.”

“Sawyer, Sasha.” Doyle looked toward the wheelhouse and Riley. “You want to argue over who mans the harpoon?”

“We'll switch off. I pilot, you take the harpoon. You pilot, I take it.”

“Fair enough.”

Riley stopped the boat, pointed. “First cave on today's list is at about two o'clock, and about twelve feet under to the entrance. A narrow channel opens up into a canyon after about forty feet. It's a tricky dive for a novice.”

“I'll be fine,” Sasha stated, pulling on her wet suit.

“You passed novice stage in Corfu.” After stripping down, Riley reached for her own wet suit. “The mouth's small, we have to go in single file—and it's easy to miss.”

“I can find it.” Geared up, Annika sat on the side of the boat. Then doing what she wanted most at that moment, she rolled backward into the sea.

Though the pull was to go down and down, she surfaced immediately. It was enough, for now, just to feel the sea around her. She waved to the others.