Bay of Sighs
Page 12
“The Grotta Azzurra.” Annika beamed. “It’s so beautiful. I, too, visited with my family to bathe in the water and the light.”
“The Blue Grotto seems like a slam dunk for a Water Star,” Sawyer imagined. “Which is probably why it won’t be.”
“Its light burns blue only after it’s lifted. Now it waits, cold and quiet.”
They stopped, turned to Sasha. Bran laid a hand on her arm. “What else do you see?”
“Her. I see her, through the smoke and broken mirrors. Nerezza, the mother of lies. She’ll make her palace in the dark, of the dark, and there forge a new weapon against us. Promises of power seeded on thirsty ground. She waters with blood. A new dog for a new day.”
Sasha fumbled for Bran’s hand. “How did I do?”
“You did well. Headache?”
“No. No, I’m fine. I let it come. I can’t bring it, but I can let it come.”
“Your face is pale.” Digging in her pack, Annika took out a water bottle. “Water helps.”
“It does.”
“So does food, and there’s some up ahead. I smell pizza,” Riley said.
“Wolf nose,” Sawyer commented.
“That’s exactly right. I vote lunch.”
Riley’s nose proved accurate. In under a quarter mile they sat outside a little roadside trattoria.
“Have you got your sketch pad?” Sawyer asked Sasha.
“Never leave home without it.”
“Can I borrow it a minute? I want to get something down while it’s fresh.”
Intrigued, Sasha pulled out her pad, a case of pencils. “You never said you drew.”
“Not like you.”
As the vote for pizza rounded the table, as beer and wine were served, he sketched out his map from memory. The curve of the land, the sweep of sea and beach, the rise of hills. He added the road they’d traveled, positions of houses, groves, fields.
Riley leaned over to study the work. “That’s pretty damn good, cowboy.”
“You gotta know where you are. Which is here—or the house is here. We came up this way, over, and now we’re here.”
He drew a compass rose at the bottom of the page.
“What do we have if we go back and down?”
“You’d end up at the Piazzetta—or as it’s known by locals, chiazz. The square—little, as the name indicates—is the social center and tourist haunt. Cafes, bars, and, fanning out from it, the narrow streets, the shops—”
“Shopping?” Annika interrupted Riley’s explanation. “We can shop?”
“We’ll need to eventually. Supplies, ammo. You’ll get trinkets,” Riley assured her. “Up here, that’s the Marina Grande.”
“Got it.” Sawyer penciled the name in.
“We’ll pick up the boat—another RIB—our equipment there in the morning. We have a van on tap if we need it, but I don’t recommend driving here—van or bike—unless we have to. Public transpo’s good, plus we have Sawyer if we need to get somewhere fast. The funicular goes from Capri town to the marina if we need that. It’s just getting there. Bus is probably the best way to get to the marina from the house.”
“Just how do we get weapons on a bus?” Doyle demanded.
“I’ll come up with something,” Bran assured him.
Since the pizza came out then, hot and bubbly, it blocked an immediate argument. But sensing one coming, Sawyer took a stab.
“We could hike it. Public transpo when and if, legs otherwise.”
“A reasonable compromise,” Bran declared. “We can see how it goes. I’ll deal with the weapons either way, and we can consider the hike to the marina part of our morning calisthenics.”
“I like calisthenics,” Annika said. “I like pizza, and this wine is very nice. I can hike to shop.” She gave Sawyer an under-the-lashes smile. “You could go with me.”
“Ah—”
“We should walk off lunch,” Doyle put in, “and get in an hour’s weapons training. I bet there are shops around the marina, Gorgeous. You’ll get your chance.”
“I like my weapons.” She studied her bracelets, smiled at Bran and Sasha. “They’re pretty. It’s nice to have a day together. To practice, yes, to train and to plan. But just to walk in the sun with all the flowers and trees. To eat pizza. To just . . .”
“Just be?” Bran suggested, and plucked a starry little flower out of the air.
With a laugh, Annika tucked the flower behind her ear. “Yes. To just be together. Here, where Sasha said to come. Where Sawyer brought us. Where here”—she laid a hand on her heart—“I know we are meant to be.”
“Seventh daughter of seventh daughter knowing?” Riley asked.
“Yes, it may be. But I know. And I feel, I feel so strong that we’ll find the Water Star, that whatever weapon is forged against us, it will never be enough. The dark cannot win, so the light must.”
“You’re a light, Anni,” Sawyer told her, and made her heart swell.
“One of six. It’s good to be one of six. Can I have more pizza?”
Sawyer took a slice, slid it onto her plate. “All you want.”
They hiked back for weapons training. Annika liked using her magic bracelets, and liked even more practicing with them in the lemon grove. The floating balls Bran conjured for her could slide and bob behind trees, try to hide, so she had to be quick and clever to deflect.
“The Blue Grotto seems like a slam dunk for a Water Star,” Sawyer imagined. “Which is probably why it won’t be.”
“Its light burns blue only after it’s lifted. Now it waits, cold and quiet.”
They stopped, turned to Sasha. Bran laid a hand on her arm. “What else do you see?”
“Her. I see her, through the smoke and broken mirrors. Nerezza, the mother of lies. She’ll make her palace in the dark, of the dark, and there forge a new weapon against us. Promises of power seeded on thirsty ground. She waters with blood. A new dog for a new day.”
Sasha fumbled for Bran’s hand. “How did I do?”
“You did well. Headache?”
“No. No, I’m fine. I let it come. I can’t bring it, but I can let it come.”
“Your face is pale.” Digging in her pack, Annika took out a water bottle. “Water helps.”
“It does.”
“So does food, and there’s some up ahead. I smell pizza,” Riley said.
“Wolf nose,” Sawyer commented.
“That’s exactly right. I vote lunch.”
Riley’s nose proved accurate. In under a quarter mile they sat outside a little roadside trattoria.
“Have you got your sketch pad?” Sawyer asked Sasha.
“Never leave home without it.”
“Can I borrow it a minute? I want to get something down while it’s fresh.”
Intrigued, Sasha pulled out her pad, a case of pencils. “You never said you drew.”
“Not like you.”
As the vote for pizza rounded the table, as beer and wine were served, he sketched out his map from memory. The curve of the land, the sweep of sea and beach, the rise of hills. He added the road they’d traveled, positions of houses, groves, fields.
Riley leaned over to study the work. “That’s pretty damn good, cowboy.”
“You gotta know where you are. Which is here—or the house is here. We came up this way, over, and now we’re here.”
He drew a compass rose at the bottom of the page.
“What do we have if we go back and down?”
“You’d end up at the Piazzetta—or as it’s known by locals, chiazz. The square—little, as the name indicates—is the social center and tourist haunt. Cafes, bars, and, fanning out from it, the narrow streets, the shops—”
“Shopping?” Annika interrupted Riley’s explanation. “We can shop?”
“We’ll need to eventually. Supplies, ammo. You’ll get trinkets,” Riley assured her. “Up here, that’s the Marina Grande.”
“Got it.” Sawyer penciled the name in.
“We’ll pick up the boat—another RIB—our equipment there in the morning. We have a van on tap if we need it, but I don’t recommend driving here—van or bike—unless we have to. Public transpo’s good, plus we have Sawyer if we need to get somewhere fast. The funicular goes from Capri town to the marina if we need that. It’s just getting there. Bus is probably the best way to get to the marina from the house.”
“Just how do we get weapons on a bus?” Doyle demanded.
“I’ll come up with something,” Bran assured him.
Since the pizza came out then, hot and bubbly, it blocked an immediate argument. But sensing one coming, Sawyer took a stab.
“We could hike it. Public transpo when and if, legs otherwise.”
“A reasonable compromise,” Bran declared. “We can see how it goes. I’ll deal with the weapons either way, and we can consider the hike to the marina part of our morning calisthenics.”
“I like calisthenics,” Annika said. “I like pizza, and this wine is very nice. I can hike to shop.” She gave Sawyer an under-the-lashes smile. “You could go with me.”
“Ah—”
“We should walk off lunch,” Doyle put in, “and get in an hour’s weapons training. I bet there are shops around the marina, Gorgeous. You’ll get your chance.”
“I like my weapons.” She studied her bracelets, smiled at Bran and Sasha. “They’re pretty. It’s nice to have a day together. To practice, yes, to train and to plan. But just to walk in the sun with all the flowers and trees. To eat pizza. To just . . .”
“Just be?” Bran suggested, and plucked a starry little flower out of the air.
With a laugh, Annika tucked the flower behind her ear. “Yes. To just be together. Here, where Sasha said to come. Where Sawyer brought us. Where here”—she laid a hand on her heart—“I know we are meant to be.”
“Seventh daughter of seventh daughter knowing?” Riley asked.
“Yes, it may be. But I know. And I feel, I feel so strong that we’ll find the Water Star, that whatever weapon is forged against us, it will never be enough. The dark cannot win, so the light must.”
“You’re a light, Anni,” Sawyer told her, and made her heart swell.
“One of six. It’s good to be one of six. Can I have more pizza?”
Sawyer took a slice, slid it onto her plate. “All you want.”
They hiked back for weapons training. Annika liked using her magic bracelets, and liked even more practicing with them in the lemon grove. The floating balls Bran conjured for her could slide and bob behind trees, try to hide, so she had to be quick and clever to deflect.
