Bay of Sighs
Page 44
“You’re better than you were. You’ve had the farthest to come.”
“I think that’s supposed to be encouragement. You’re angry,” Sasha added, studying Doyle. “I can feel it. Angry and starting to doubt if we’re on the right track, in the right place. If the vision I had that brought us here was just wrong.”
“You’re still new at reading them.”
“She’s yet to be wrong,” Bran reminded him. “Impatience, while human enough, isn’t productive.”
“The compass backs her up.” Sawyer took it out. “It says here. I check it every night, and we’re where we’re supposed to be.”
“When you’ve lost something, it’s always in the last place you look. Because when you find it,” Riley added, “you stop looking. We haven’t hit the last place yet.”
“Have you asked yourself why she’s yet to come at us? We’ve been here nearly two weeks.”
“She has.” Bran slid an arm around Sasha.
“Not a day goes by she doesn’t try to get inside me.” She reached up to the necklace Bran made for her, rubbed the protective stones. “The gods have nothing but time, do they?”
“Gods and immortals,” Riley commented. “But the rest of us? Not so much.”
“So we keep looking.” When Annika slipped her hand in his, Sawyer squeezed it as he spoke. “Until we hit that last place. It’s here, and I’m not going to complain about not having to fight to the freaking death for a week or two while we search.”
Couldn’t they see five stood on one side, and Doyle alone on the other? Because she could and did, Annika walked to him. Disarmed him by wrapping her arms around him in a hug.
“You’re angry because you have no one but friends to fight with.”
“Maybe a little pissed off he has friends.” Riley smirked at him. “And one of them kicked him in the balls.”
“Maybe. And maybe we haven’t found the last place because we’re looking in the wrong one. Not the island, I’ll concede that. Seer and magic compass say Capri, it’s Capri. But maybe it’s not in the water, not in a cave. We haven’t assessed other possibilities. You said in the water, of the water,” he said to Sasha. “But what about fountains, wells, underground springs? Bays, coves, inlets?”
“The Bay of Sighs.” Sasha’s eyes went deep. “Lost between what is, what was, what will. There abides beauty without end, and regret. Are you worthy to pass between? The truest of hearts, the purest of spirits? Sighs for those accepted. Sighs for those turned away. Hope, never quenched for redemption. And the song sings from the star to guide you.”
Sasha let out her own sigh. “They’re waiting for us to find it.”
“Who?” Doyle demanded. “Where?”
“I don’t know. I can feel . . . something waiting, hoping. But I don’t have the answers, I’m sorry.”
“Neither do I,” Riley said. “I’ve been digging on Bay of Sighs, but I haven’t found anything yet. I’ll keep looking, try different angles. A parallel world, maybe? A time shift—which would be Sawyer’s deal. I’ll try some other resources.”
“As will I,” Bran said. “It may be someone in my family knows something of it, or knows someone who might. Meanwhile, we search and eliminate.”
“We’d better toss some breakfast together and get down to the boat.” Riley paused, pulled out her phone when it signaled. “Hold on. It’s my Malmon contact.
“This is Gwin,” she said as she walked away.
“I can help you with breakfast because Riley is busy.”
Watching Riley, Sasha nodded. “Let’s get to it.” And headed inside with Annika.
By the time Riley came in for coffee, Sasha was flipping the last slice of French toast on a platter beside a heap of bacon.
“What did you find out?”
“I’ll tell it all at once. Thanks for taking my KP, Anni.”
“I don’t mind. I like to make the fruit bowl.”
“Looks good, smells good. I’ll report while we eat.”
She didn’t waste time filling her plate or filling the rest in.
“Malmon’s still in London, but he’s booked a villa—big-ass villa, overlooking Marina Grande. Degli Dei.”
“Villa of the gods,” Doyle translated.
“Fate’s little wedgie, right? He took it for a month—doubling the asking price as incentive. His tenancy starts in three days. Word is he’s enlisted John Trake.”
“I don’t know that name,” Sawyer said.
“I do. Formerly Colonel Trake, United States Army, Special Forces. Black ops. Dishonorably discharged about seven years back, quietly, when he went way off the reservation. Got to like killing a little too much, and didn’t worry about collateral damage, even when it included his own men, unarmed civilians, children. Trake’s bringing along Eli Yadin.”
“That name I do know. Yadin was along for the ride in Morocco. Mossad—formerly, I think,” Sawyer added.
“You think correctly. He got a little too wild and crazy for them, and you have to be pretty wild and crazy to shock Mossad. He’s an assassin, but he specializes in torture. One more name. Franz Berger. Hunter, tracker, sniper—of both the four- and two-legged variety of mammals.”
“I think that’s supposed to be encouragement. You’re angry,” Sasha added, studying Doyle. “I can feel it. Angry and starting to doubt if we’re on the right track, in the right place. If the vision I had that brought us here was just wrong.”
“You’re still new at reading them.”
“She’s yet to be wrong,” Bran reminded him. “Impatience, while human enough, isn’t productive.”
“The compass backs her up.” Sawyer took it out. “It says here. I check it every night, and we’re where we’re supposed to be.”
“When you’ve lost something, it’s always in the last place you look. Because when you find it,” Riley added, “you stop looking. We haven’t hit the last place yet.”
“Have you asked yourself why she’s yet to come at us? We’ve been here nearly two weeks.”
“She has.” Bran slid an arm around Sasha.
“Not a day goes by she doesn’t try to get inside me.” She reached up to the necklace Bran made for her, rubbed the protective stones. “The gods have nothing but time, do they?”
“Gods and immortals,” Riley commented. “But the rest of us? Not so much.”
“So we keep looking.” When Annika slipped her hand in his, Sawyer squeezed it as he spoke. “Until we hit that last place. It’s here, and I’m not going to complain about not having to fight to the freaking death for a week or two while we search.”
Couldn’t they see five stood on one side, and Doyle alone on the other? Because she could and did, Annika walked to him. Disarmed him by wrapping her arms around him in a hug.
“You’re angry because you have no one but friends to fight with.”
“Maybe a little pissed off he has friends.” Riley smirked at him. “And one of them kicked him in the balls.”
“Maybe. And maybe we haven’t found the last place because we’re looking in the wrong one. Not the island, I’ll concede that. Seer and magic compass say Capri, it’s Capri. But maybe it’s not in the water, not in a cave. We haven’t assessed other possibilities. You said in the water, of the water,” he said to Sasha. “But what about fountains, wells, underground springs? Bays, coves, inlets?”
“The Bay of Sighs.” Sasha’s eyes went deep. “Lost between what is, what was, what will. There abides beauty without end, and regret. Are you worthy to pass between? The truest of hearts, the purest of spirits? Sighs for those accepted. Sighs for those turned away. Hope, never quenched for redemption. And the song sings from the star to guide you.”
Sasha let out her own sigh. “They’re waiting for us to find it.”
“Who?” Doyle demanded. “Where?”
“I don’t know. I can feel . . . something waiting, hoping. But I don’t have the answers, I’m sorry.”
“Neither do I,” Riley said. “I’ve been digging on Bay of Sighs, but I haven’t found anything yet. I’ll keep looking, try different angles. A parallel world, maybe? A time shift—which would be Sawyer’s deal. I’ll try some other resources.”
“As will I,” Bran said. “It may be someone in my family knows something of it, or knows someone who might. Meanwhile, we search and eliminate.”
“We’d better toss some breakfast together and get down to the boat.” Riley paused, pulled out her phone when it signaled. “Hold on. It’s my Malmon contact.
“This is Gwin,” she said as she walked away.
“I can help you with breakfast because Riley is busy.”
Watching Riley, Sasha nodded. “Let’s get to it.” And headed inside with Annika.
By the time Riley came in for coffee, Sasha was flipping the last slice of French toast on a platter beside a heap of bacon.
“What did you find out?”
“I’ll tell it all at once. Thanks for taking my KP, Anni.”
“I don’t mind. I like to make the fruit bowl.”
“Looks good, smells good. I’ll report while we eat.”
She didn’t waste time filling her plate or filling the rest in.
“Malmon’s still in London, but he’s booked a villa—big-ass villa, overlooking Marina Grande. Degli Dei.”
“Villa of the gods,” Doyle translated.
“Fate’s little wedgie, right? He took it for a month—doubling the asking price as incentive. His tenancy starts in three days. Word is he’s enlisted John Trake.”
“I don’t know that name,” Sawyer said.
“I do. Formerly Colonel Trake, United States Army, Special Forces. Black ops. Dishonorably discharged about seven years back, quietly, when he went way off the reservation. Got to like killing a little too much, and didn’t worry about collateral damage, even when it included his own men, unarmed civilians, children. Trake’s bringing along Eli Yadin.”
“That name I do know. Yadin was along for the ride in Morocco. Mossad—formerly, I think,” Sawyer added.
“You think correctly. He got a little too wild and crazy for them, and you have to be pretty wild and crazy to shock Mossad. He’s an assassin, but he specializes in torture. One more name. Franz Berger. Hunter, tracker, sniper—of both the four- and two-legged variety of mammals.”
