Bay of Sighs (36 page)

“Some digs, Bran. I think we could rough it there on the last and final leg of this quest. How many bedrooms?” she asked.

“Ten, though two are only put into use for that when my family comes in a herd.”

“Is there one in either of those towers?”

“Yes.”

“Dibs on it.”

“This is yours?” Doyle spoke, but never took his gaze from the painting. “This house, on these cliffs, with the woods thick at its back? And to the north, just on the verge of the woods, is a well.”

“There's an old well, and I was told the woods came in closer at one time. How do . . . Ah.” It struck him. “You know this land, these cliffs.”

“This sea, the woods. I know it. It's my home. Or was. My grandfather helped his father build it, or the first of it. A fine stone house. And my father helped his father add rooms to the south side, as my father was one of ten children and all of them lived. That was McCleary blood, they said. Strong and healthy. And I helped my father repair the old stable his grandfather had first built. And the
sheep grazed on the rocky hills, and we hunted deer and rabbit in those woods.

“And my brother died in my arms less than a day's hard ride from where we were born. Now they'd have me go back, these gods.”

“I'm so sorry, Doyle—” Sasha began, but Riley shook her head.

“Who came before us, how they lived, what they built? It matters. We honor them by going back, by walking where they walked, living where they lived. They're never gone if they matter, if they're honored.”

Doyle looked at her for a long moment. “It's the one place on this world I never wanted to walk again.”

“Gods are bastards.”

“They are, yes. They are.”

“But Bran built a house where yours once stood. That's not happenstance. We've got to go with it, learn why.”

“There's no question of not going. And this is where you'll put the star, as you put the other in the painting of the woods?”

“Yes.”

“Then we'd best go find it.”

T
hough it ate more daylight, they opted to pack. They might have to travel quickly. Sawyer took Annika's hand as she cheerfully folded dresses into her colorful bag.

“I need a few minutes.”

“Oh, Sawyer, I don't think we have time for sex.”

“Not for that—though I really appreciate your mind just goes there. I need to ask you something.”

“You can ask anything of me.”

“I need you to tell me if—and I know it's a big if—but if when we've done all we've been asked to do, done the duty we've been given, and if after that your elders and sea witch, and whoever's in charge of the big picture, if they'd let you stay, let you stay on land, with me . . . would you?”

Seriously, with hints of sorrow, those mermaid eyes met his. “I would stay anywhere with you. You are my only, my own Sawyer, my love. But it can't be. The legs are only borrowed. They're mine until the quest is done, or because I had to tell you what I am, in three
turns of the moon. Two now. They don't wish me grief, or wish you grief, but it is beyond them to give me this.”

“Maybe Bran—”

“I asked.” For a moment, her gaze dropped to the ground. “I know I shouldn't have, but after I knew you loved me, I asked. It is beyond him. He promised to do offerings, but he can't break a spell done for the good, for the light. Even for love, for you, I can't break my oath.”

“Okay. Okay.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Maybe I can do a Tom Hanks.”

“What is it to do a tomhanks?”

“No, it's a name. Tom, first name, Hanks, last name. An actor. He did this movie where he fell for a mermaid.”

“Oh. I would like to see this.”

“Yeah, we'll get to it. Anyway, she fell for him, too.”

“Yes, so it's a good story.”

“But there were bad people.”

“Evil gods?”

“No, but bad people, and they would've hurt her, or worse. She couldn't stay with him, so in the end, he jumped in the water after her. And she did something so he could stay with her. So he could live in the water with her.”

Gently, Annika kissed his cheeks, skimmed her fingers back into his hair. “It would be a pretty story. There is nothing I could do to make you live under the water. You are of the land.”

“Maybe the sea witch—”

“That you would think to do this for me makes my heart full of joy and tears. But she has no power to change you.” Because the tears threatened, she started to turn away. “We should pack now.”

“Okay, but I've got one more. Don't cry, Anni, just listen to this one more possibility. The island where I took you. It's kind of got a magick of its own, right?”

How she wished they wouldn't talk of possibilities that could
never be. “Yes. The water around it is sacred, and the land is important.”

“Right. And it's not in the shipping lanes. We're both connected to it. I could live there. I'm handy, so I could build a little house—I'm all about living on the beach. And you could live in the water there. We could be together. I could swim with you, and sit on the beach while you sat on the rocks. Talk to you, see you, touch you.”

Inside her breast her heart trembled and shook. “Your family.”

“Hey, I've got the compass. I can see them, bring them to see us—same with yours if they want. But the bottom line?” Eyes on hers, he skimmed his hands down her arms, up again. “Bottom line, Annika, you're my only, too. I don't want to live in a world where you're not. And I'm not going to believe that we found each other, we've fought together, and done all we've been asked to do only to never be together. I'm not going to accept that. Would you stay with me—you in the water, me on the land?”

“I can't give you young.”

“Annika, just give me you.”

“I have. I will. Yes, I will stay with you. I don't want to live in a world where you're not.” She threw her arms around him. “I will be yours, and you will be mine.”

Closing his eyes, he held on. “And that's enough for anybody.”

“I love you with all I am.”

When he kissed her, they both forgot about packing and everything else until Sasha rapped sharply on the doorjamb.

“Sorry, but we've got to get everything downstairs and go over all the steps. It's nearly four.”

“Sawyer is going to build a house on the island, and live there, and I can live in the water, so we can be together.”

“Love finds a way.” Touched, Sasha moved in to hug them both. “A good and loving way. And don't think moving to some deserted island in the South Seas will stop us from visiting.”

“Counting on it,” Sawyer told her.

“But now, get moving. We're getting antsy.”

“Five minutes.”

It took a little longer, but they hauled everything down, steered Doyle's motorcycle in from the side room.

“At least I'll be able to ride this again once we're in Ireland.”

“I like riding the motorcycle.”

“Anytime, Gorgeous.”

“Until that happy day, we've got three hours and . . .” Riley checked her watch. “Thirty-two minutes until sunset. If we're going to do this, we'd better do it.”

“One more thing. Sasha's last vision.”

“Sawyer, no.” Alarmed, Annika clutched at him. “She is a god.”

“And Bran and Sasha took her down pretty hard in Corfu. This time it looks like it's my turn. My risk, my choice—that's what Sasha said, that's what we explained to everybody. I'm making the choice, and I have to believe I can do it, buy us that time. But I'm going to need help.”

“Whatever you need, brother,” Doyle told him, “you've got.”

“The timing has to be close to perfect, and I need to get close enough to her to connect.”

“She could rip you to pieces.” At Riley's words Annika turned her face into Sawyer's shoulder. “Sorry, really, but we've got to be straight. Maybe we wait, take more time to plan it out.”

“It's now. I'm sorry, too.” Sasha reached out to stroke Annika's hair. “But it's now. For the star, for the battle, for the risk.”

“She could rip me to pieces, but I'm banking she won't, especially if Bran softens her up a bit.”

“And that I will, my word on it.”

“I get close enough, when she's softened up some, I pull her into a shift, and when we're clear, I disconnect. It can work.”

“You'll be alone,” Annika stated.

“No.” He used her hand to tap his own heart. “Okay, everybody gear up—except for you.” He tipped Annika's face, kissed her.

They strapped on the equipment Riley and Doyle had carted up from the boathouse—the hard way. And though it still made him wince, he waited while Annika tossed her pink dress aside.

“There may be a little jolt. I've never gone from solid ground to underwater.”

“And in 1742,” Riley added.

“Time's set, just remember it's a wilder ride than just a location shift. And when”—he deliberately didn't say if—“Anni has the star, the trip back's going to be just as wild. Stay close, stay together. The tighter we are, the easier it'll be. Be ready.”

He put on his mask, adjusted it, slipped in his mouthpiece. With the underwater pistol on one hip, the diving knife in his belt, he took Annika's hand.

With another look at his friends, Sawyer nodded. Closed his eyes. And activated both compass and watch simultaneously.

It had a kick, bigger than he'd expected. Then again, he'd only traveled simultaneously with one companion before this.

The air whistled, rushing by him, through him, around him as he gripped Annika's hand, as he kept the connection with the others gripped tight in his mind.

The world turned, or so it seemed, revolving faster, faster, as years whizzed by like the air.

For a moment he thought he heard the song, and the sighs that blended with it. Then water swallowed him, swirled over him, slapped at him.

And dark fell deep.

Night, he thought, and a moonless night at that. Riley hadn't taken any chances. And he hadn't considered the lack of light in the cave.

He felt Annika's hand still in his, and the brush of her tail against his legs. But the others . . .

A light glowed, suspended above Bran's palm. When Bran waved a hand over it, the glow increased.

Relieved, Sawyer slowed his breathing, tried to orient himself.

Without sun or moon, with no light to reflect, the cave would be dark as a tomb, not that pretty, almost unearthly blue he'd seen in all the pictures.

But he could see Annika smile as she swam around them, as she nudged them all closer together.

And she tapped her ear.

Sawyer started to shake his head, but he did hear it. Faintly, a chorus of sighs, as if the water itself breathed them.

Still smiling, her eyes brilliant and beautiful, she gestured down. With a twist of her body, a liquid swirl of her tail, she swam straight down, and into the dark.

Stunned, he went with instinct, kicked hard after her. But in seconds, even with Bran's light, he couldn't see her.

She went deep, and oh, it was heaven to take the depths again. The sighs echoed around her now, and now she understood words hid in them.

We wait. We wait.

And in the songs lived pleas.

Forgive us. Redeem us. Free us. Embrace us.

The deeper she dived, the deeper her eyes. The dark of depths posed no obstacle. She could see the rocks, the statues made by men, and more as she swam, the shapes and shadows of those banished, those who waited, those who pleaded.

With sigh and song.

And she felt them, the brush of fingers as she moved through them. While their sorrows weighed on her, she could only follow the sighs and the faith.

The goddess waited. White in the dark sea, her face lovely and regal, her gown flowing down. She held one hand to her skirts,
and the other lifted at her side. But there was nothing in that curved palm.

Help us. See us. Restore us.

I see you, Annika thought. I see you. I hear you.

She laid her hand in the hand of the goddess, looked into those stone eyes. A statue, she thought. And it wasn't stone and carvings that held the star.

In the water, of the water.

As she said it in her head, all that surrounded her sighed it.

In the water, of the water. As was she.

Annika spread her arms, accepted, embraced. And began to spin.

I am of the water. I am the chosen from my world. I am the guardian. I am the redeemer. I am one who seeks. I am of the water.

She repeated it over and over in her head, spun faster and faster. She felt movement above her—Sawyer, her friends.

Of the water, to bring light to the dark. Redeemer, the Water Star waits. We wait.

I am of the water. The star is of the water. The goddess is of the water. From her hand to my hand.

As she spun, faster, faster, the water brightened, the light began to glow. Soft, soft, blue. Brighter, deeper, bluer.

As she had been born to, she lifted her arms, cupped her hands together. Above them, the water spun, glittered, warmed.

Above them, the star burst bright.

She laughed, pure joy, and around her the sighs filled with tears that echoed the joy.

Arms high, she began to rise, and the songs rang, rejoicing.

He watched her, heart thudding, the image from the portrait, but more brilliant, more stunning. With the star, blazing blue in the vee of her hands.

When she reached them, she seemed to fly, a glorious bird, higher, higher. And then spilling over, came back to them.

Back to him.

She held the star out to him, like an offering.

Gently, Sawyer closed her hands around it.

He slid an arm around her waist, looked to each of his friends. Together, guided by the blue, they surfaced in the cave.

He tore away his mouthpiece. “Anni.”

And crushed his lips to hers.

“You vanished, you scared me. You're beautiful. You're everything.”

“I had to go deep. Didn't you hear the songs?”

“They tore at my heart,” Sasha said.

“You should take it.” Annika held the star out to Bran.

“When we get back. You're made of magick, Annika. And we should go back, finish this.”

“Couldn't we just take ten? I just want to swim out, see—”

Doyle grabbed Riley's arm before she could. “Now.”

“Now,” Sawyer agreed. “Hold on to your hats.”

It took seconds in a whirling kick that seemed to punch them out of the water and onto the floor of the villa.

“Holy shit, Sawyer.”

A little wide-eyed himself, he grinned at Riley. “What a rush! Rock-in-a-slingshot time. It must've been the star. Swear to God it wasn't me.”

“It's so beautiful.” Annika looked down at it, glinting, glimmering, madly blue in her hand.