Bay of Sighs
Page 92
“Just Capri,” Sasha told him. “Because it’s here. I’m absolutely sure. I need . . .” She, too, got to her feet. “I need to paint. Don’t wait for me.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know,” she said to Bran, “but I will. It’s today. I know that. It’s today, and I have to . . . Don’t wait for me.”
“Should you go with her?” Sawyer asked.
“No, let her begin without distractions.”
“Where the hell is Sasha going?” Riley demanded. “I think I have big news here.”
“As she does.”
“Vision time,” Sawyer said. “We’re supposed to go on this without her.”
“Fine. Okay, it started falling into place about halfway through the conversation with White. He’s smart, but boy does he ramble, and he takes winding paths. Anyway.” She set down her notes. “He’s a proponent of the Bay of Sighs–slash–Island of Glass connection. He’s eliminated Atlantis from the mix—that took a while for him to wade through. He thinks he’s dated the rebellion and the disconnect to about three thousand years ago, and during that time, while the island goes where and how it chooses, shows itself to those it chooses, the bay’s been adrift. Powerless, rudderless, you could say. And those imprisoned in its waters—his words—sigh and sing in the hopes of calling to a redeemer.”
She flipped a page over. “And catch this. The redeemer, like they once were, is of the land, of the sea, seeks and is sought, and will come, defy the witches and monsters, will redeem them, help them redeem themselves when a star, a queen star, falls from the sky into the bay.”
“We’ve been looking for the bloody bay,” Doyle began.
“There’s more, and here’s where I got it. The star, blue as the bay, the bay, blue as the star, are one until the redeemer lifts it from the hand of the queen of the sea who holds it safe for the queen of all.”
Riley looked up expectantly. “Don’t you get it?”
“We’re supposed to find the queen of the sea now?” Doyle demanded. “Would that be Salacia, as we’re into the Romans here?”
“Yeah, it would be, and I’ve got a pretty good idea where to find her. Wife of Neptune. Look, Tiberius retired here, right, and built his palaces, his villas—and commissioned a lot of statues. Some of which have been found in the one place we figured was off the list.”
“The Blue Grotto,” Sawyer declared as his compass glowed and began to move over the map.
“The Blue Grotto, once feared by locals because they believed witches and monsters lived there. Once used by Tiberius, who placed statues in the cave. Some have been found, and it’s believed there could be more—deeper.”
“It’s a tourist attraction,” Doyle pointed out.
“Now it is. He’s got more theories and papers—but White, he’s going in the wrong direction. He’s focusing right now on Florida. I mean, seriously? Blue as the star.”
She shifted to Annika. “And what do we have here? Why, we have a guardian who is of the land and of the sea. You’re up, Anni.”
“But I don’t know where to find the queen and her hand. I’ve been in the waters there, but never heard the sighs or the songs before this.”
“It wasn’t time,” Bran said simply. “We weren’t together, and it’s clear this quest demands that. Sawyer’s compass agrees. The Blue Grotto. Now we work our way to diving for the star in a place where they sell tickets to tourists.”
“Not at night, they don’t,” Riley pointed out. “It’s closed at night, and diving’s not permitted—though I betcha it happens. The problem with that is I have two more nights before I can strap on a tank.”
“Bubble helmet. I saw it on YouTube,” Sawyer told her. “Scuba-diving dog. Cat, too. Awesome.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Since it would take longer to outfit you when you go furry than to wait, it doesn’t work here. But it could—just saying.”
“Theories from some friend of a friend and the compass aside,” Doyle began, “we need to go there, or the vicinity, and see.”
“A theory that slides in like a key in a lock, and the compass makes the location a bull’s-eye. But,” Riley continued, “since we need to wait if we try the night dive, it wouldn’t hurt to head there. With the Fire Star, it was Sasha. It called her, we can say, pulled her.”
“Nearly drowned her,” Sawyer pointed out. “So when we do this, the rest of us watch Annika.”
“I can’t drown in the water as you can’t drown in air.”
“There are other ways to come to harm,” Bran reminded her. “If the Water Star is for you, and everything indicates it is, we’re with you.”
“It’s an honor,” Annika said slowly, “to be chosen. I don’t want to disappoint, to fail you, or my duty. If I’m meant to find the star. Will you trust me to try?”
“No question there,” Sawyer assured her. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t protect each other.”
“I understand. The . . . all for one, one for all.”
“You got it.”
“But if it’s for me, I don’t want to wear the tanks, the suit. If it can be at night, and no one will see, I want to be free in the water.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know,” she said to Bran, “but I will. It’s today. I know that. It’s today, and I have to . . . Don’t wait for me.”
“Should you go with her?” Sawyer asked.
“No, let her begin without distractions.”
“Where the hell is Sasha going?” Riley demanded. “I think I have big news here.”
“As she does.”
“Vision time,” Sawyer said. “We’re supposed to go on this without her.”
“Fine. Okay, it started falling into place about halfway through the conversation with White. He’s smart, but boy does he ramble, and he takes winding paths. Anyway.” She set down her notes. “He’s a proponent of the Bay of Sighs–slash–Island of Glass connection. He’s eliminated Atlantis from the mix—that took a while for him to wade through. He thinks he’s dated the rebellion and the disconnect to about three thousand years ago, and during that time, while the island goes where and how it chooses, shows itself to those it chooses, the bay’s been adrift. Powerless, rudderless, you could say. And those imprisoned in its waters—his words—sigh and sing in the hopes of calling to a redeemer.”
She flipped a page over. “And catch this. The redeemer, like they once were, is of the land, of the sea, seeks and is sought, and will come, defy the witches and monsters, will redeem them, help them redeem themselves when a star, a queen star, falls from the sky into the bay.”
“We’ve been looking for the bloody bay,” Doyle began.
“There’s more, and here’s where I got it. The star, blue as the bay, the bay, blue as the star, are one until the redeemer lifts it from the hand of the queen of the sea who holds it safe for the queen of all.”
Riley looked up expectantly. “Don’t you get it?”
“We’re supposed to find the queen of the sea now?” Doyle demanded. “Would that be Salacia, as we’re into the Romans here?”
“Yeah, it would be, and I’ve got a pretty good idea where to find her. Wife of Neptune. Look, Tiberius retired here, right, and built his palaces, his villas—and commissioned a lot of statues. Some of which have been found in the one place we figured was off the list.”
“The Blue Grotto,” Sawyer declared as his compass glowed and began to move over the map.
“The Blue Grotto, once feared by locals because they believed witches and monsters lived there. Once used by Tiberius, who placed statues in the cave. Some have been found, and it’s believed there could be more—deeper.”
“It’s a tourist attraction,” Doyle pointed out.
“Now it is. He’s got more theories and papers—but White, he’s going in the wrong direction. He’s focusing right now on Florida. I mean, seriously? Blue as the star.”
She shifted to Annika. “And what do we have here? Why, we have a guardian who is of the land and of the sea. You’re up, Anni.”
“But I don’t know where to find the queen and her hand. I’ve been in the waters there, but never heard the sighs or the songs before this.”
“It wasn’t time,” Bran said simply. “We weren’t together, and it’s clear this quest demands that. Sawyer’s compass agrees. The Blue Grotto. Now we work our way to diving for the star in a place where they sell tickets to tourists.”
“Not at night, they don’t,” Riley pointed out. “It’s closed at night, and diving’s not permitted—though I betcha it happens. The problem with that is I have two more nights before I can strap on a tank.”
“Bubble helmet. I saw it on YouTube,” Sawyer told her. “Scuba-diving dog. Cat, too. Awesome.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Since it would take longer to outfit you when you go furry than to wait, it doesn’t work here. But it could—just saying.”
“Theories from some friend of a friend and the compass aside,” Doyle began, “we need to go there, or the vicinity, and see.”
“A theory that slides in like a key in a lock, and the compass makes the location a bull’s-eye. But,” Riley continued, “since we need to wait if we try the night dive, it wouldn’t hurt to head there. With the Fire Star, it was Sasha. It called her, we can say, pulled her.”
“Nearly drowned her,” Sawyer pointed out. “So when we do this, the rest of us watch Annika.”
“I can’t drown in the water as you can’t drown in air.”
“There are other ways to come to harm,” Bran reminded her. “If the Water Star is for you, and everything indicates it is, we’re with you.”
“It’s an honor,” Annika said slowly, “to be chosen. I don’t want to disappoint, to fail you, or my duty. If I’m meant to find the star. Will you trust me to try?”
“No question there,” Sawyer assured her. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t protect each other.”
“I understand. The . . . all for one, one for all.”
“You got it.”
“But if it’s for me, I don’t want to wear the tanks, the suit. If it can be at night, and no one will see, I want to be free in the water.”
