Текст книги "Stars of Fortune"

Автор книги: Nora Roberts

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CHAPTER THREE

Warm, blissfully content, Sasha rose out of sleep slowly, like drifting up to the surface of a quiet pool to float. Wanting to cling to that sensation of feeling safe, happy, she kept her eyes closed, gave herself permission to snuggle in for just five minutes more.

On a sigh, she glided her hand up the sheet.

And froze.

Not the sheet, but skin. Warm, firm skin. With a heart beating under her palm.

Her eyes popped open. The first shock was seeing Bran, sleeping still, his face inches from hers. The next was realizing her head was nestled on his shoulder as if it belonged there. They were curled up together like contented lovers, his arm cradled under her, her hand resting on his heart.

And it wasn’t a dream.

On a strangled gasp, she scrambled back, rolled, nearly tumbled off the bed before she gained her feet.

He sat up with a jerk, all tousled hair, stubble-shadowed cheeks, and hard, naked chest. “What?” he demanded, as those dark eyes cleared of sleep instantly. “What?”

“What?” she tossed back, pointing at him. “What?” And jabbed her finger in the air. “What!”

“Christ.” He scrubbed both hands over his face. “Bad enough, isn’t it, to wake when it’s barely past the middle of the bloody night, but then to have a woman shrieking on top of it.”

“I’m not shrieking.” Those crystal-blue eyes fired like flames. “You want to hear shrieking? You will if you don’t tell me what the hell you’re doing in my bed.”

“Relax, fáidh, for it was nothing but sleeping on both parts.” A pity, he thought, as she was fairly glorious when wound up.

“Don’t tell me to relax. Why are you in my room, in my bed, instead of in your own?”

“Well, I’ll tell you if you stop shouting. By all the gods, is there no tea or coffee in the world at this moment?”

“I’m two seconds away from calling hotel security.” After a frantic glance around, she grabbed one of her sandals, brandished it like a weapon. “Explain.”

He angled his head, apparently unconcerned, lifted that scarred eyebrow. “If you throw that at me, darling, I’ll be very annoyed, I can promise you.” He shoved out of bed, spotted her minibar, strode to it.

He plucked out a Coke and, rolling his shoulders, had the lightning-bolt tattoo on his left shoulder blade rippling. “Ah well, you take what there is and be grateful.” Opening the bottle, he guzzled it down. “That’s something anyway.”

“Get out.”

He turned around again, tall, leanly muscled, in nothing but the jeans he’d hastily pulled on and hadn’t bothered to button. Through her fury, lust clanged like iron bells.

“Are you wanting me to get out or to explain?”

“I want you to explain, then get out. How did you get in here?”

“I walked in, with you.”

She cocked the shoe back another inch as if prepared to pitch. “You absolutely did not.”

“I may dance around the truth here and there, but I don’t make a habit of stomping on it. You were dream-walking. You came knocking on my door.”

“I—I don’t walk in my sleep.” But she heard the doubt in her own voice.

“It’s not altogether sleep, is it?” He sat on the side of the bed, drank more of the Coke, then held it out. “Want a bit?”

“No. Yes. I’ll get my own.” Halfway to the minibar, she realized she wore nothing but her chemise and detoured quickly to grab the hotel robe.

“A bit late for that now, don’t you think, as I’ve already taken in the view. And it’s a fine and appealing one.” At her sharp look, he laughed. “And if I were going to do something about that, I had plenty of opportunity in the night.” He held up his free hand, palm out. “Hands off, I swear to you.”

She shoved her arms in the robe. “I don’t remember.”

“I can see that, and in your place I’d hate it as much as you. It was an hour or so after we’d parted ways for the night, you came knocking on my door. Not quite awake, not quite asleep—you understand what I mean. You said she was at the window.”

“Who?”

“I asked the same. She wanted to be let in, and you knew better. She promised you your heart’s desire, and you knew better. You came for me.”

Fear crawled on sharp hands and knees up her spine. “Did you . . . Did you see anything?”

“A shadow, nothing more than a shadow, and what sounded like the rustle of wings. I don’t doubt there was something.” He gave her a long, direct look. “I don’t doubt you.”

His last words brought tears to her eyes, so she turned away quickly, went to the minibar. Fighting the tears back, she found a small bottle of orange juice.

“You stayed with me.”

“You were worried she’d come back, and you were cold. She’d left you cold. So I tucked you up as I might a . . . sister, and as I didn’t fancy sleeping on the floor, I shared the bed. And here we are now.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve known. I would have known if I hadn’t jumped so fast.”

“You jumped to logical enough conclusions.”

“Maybe.” Now she sat on the side of the bed. He took the bottle from her, opened it, handed it back. But she only stared down at it. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“You’re welcome.” But he took the shoe she still held, set it on the floor. Just in case.

And wished those sizzling sparks of outrage hadn’t died away into weariness.

“It’s just the beginning, isn’t it? Shadows at the window. They’re only the beginning.”

“It began long ago. This is another step along the way. You’ll do fine.”

“You think so?”

“I do, as I’m the one who nearly got bashed in the head with a shoe. You’re not alone in this.” He gave her a friendly pat on the leg before he pushed to his feet. “What do you say we meet down for breakfast in an hour?”

“All right. An hour.”

He reached down, tipped her face up. “Remember. You didn’t let her in.”

When she nodded, he walked to the door and out.

And nearly into Riley.

Her eyebrows rose, her lips curved as she tugged earbuds out of her ears. “Quick work, Irish.”

“Not of the matter you’re thinking. You’re up and about early.”

“Got a workout in.”

“If you can slap yourself together in a half hour, I’ll go down to breakfast with you, tell you what happened with Sasha. She’ll be an hour, and that would save her from having to go over it all again.”

“Now you’ve got me curious. Make it twenty minutes.” Riley jogged to her door, stopped to look back. “She okay?”

“She is. Tougher than I thought, and certainly than she thinks of herself. Twenty minutes,” he repeated. “If you’re not ready I’ll meet you downstairs, as if I don’t have coffee by then I may murder someone.”

“I’ll be ready.”

*   *   *

She was as good as her word and rapped on his door closer to fifteen minutes than twenty. They went down, agreed to grab coffee, take it out by the pool so he could fill her in.

“First, just to get it out of the way, I’ve gotta respect you didn’t dive into the pool—and I don’t mean this one.”

“Sex?” He shook his head. “A man who’d take advantage of a dream-walker doesn’t have much respect for himself or the woman. Add in, if we’re in this together, we need some level of trust.”

“You’re right there. And I trust you’re not telling us everything about Bran Killian.”

“I’m not, Dr. Gwin.”

On a laugh, she toasted him with her coffee. “Googled me?”

“I did.”

“Only fair. I did the same with you. That club of yours—or clubs, because you’ve got another in Dublin—looks pretty kick-ass.”

“I like to think so.”

“I’ll have to check it out, next time I’m in New York or Dublin. But right now, we should probably get a table. Sasha strikes me as the timely type. Plus I’m starving.”

Rising, they strolled toward the open-air buffet with its billowing white curtains. “You got any ideas on who was at her window last night?”

“A few.”

“Funny, I have a few, too.”

After telling the waiter they’d be three, they got a table, waited for the coffee refill. Riley took a notebook out of one of the pockets of her cargo pants, tore off a sheet.

“You write down your first choice, I’ll do the same. And we’ll compare.”

“I don’t have a pen on me.”

“You can use my pencil in a minute.” Riley scrawled a name on her sheet, tossed him the pencil.

“Is this to make certain I’m not winding you up?”

“Let’s say it’ll show if either of us is full of shit.” She held her sheet out to him between two fingers, and he did the same.

“Nerezza,” he murmured.

Riley set his sheet down beside her, nodding to Sasha as she walked to the table. “Nerezza.”

“She’s the mother of darkness.” Sasha stared at the billowing white curtains. “She is made of lies.”

Bran rose, took her arm, felt her shudder. “Sasha.”

“Yes.”

“Sit down now. Will you have coffee?”

She slid into the chair, nodded. “Yes.” She picked up the two sheets of paper. “I know this name. I’ve heard it in my head. This was who came to the window. She was outside the window, a third-floor window. It wasn’t a dream, not really a dream. How can that be? Who is she?”

“It’s more what,” Bran said, shifted his gaze back to Riley. “Have you ever taken on a god before?”

“Can’t say I have. This should be fun.” She stood up. “I’m hitting the buffet.”

Sasha watched Riley stride off to one of the loaded buffet tables, lift the lid on a chafing dish, and begin to pile on food.

“If I had a million dollars, I’d give every cent of it to have her confidence.”

“You’ve got your own,” Bran told her. “You’ve just tucked it away here and there. We’d best get some breakfast before Riley eats all there is.”

*   *   *

Riley’s jeep, a rough, rusted-out red, was battered and battle-scarred and roofless. After a long study, Bran climbed in the back.

“Where did you get this thing?”

“I have contacts, worked a deal. Figured I’d need transportation.” She got behind the wheel, tossed a folded map at Sasha. “Shotgun navigates.”

“All right, but it’s helpful to know where we’re going.”

“North along the coast to start. It’s a big island, but my research leads me toward a coastal location.”

“Why?” Even as the question formed, Riley hit the gas.

It might have looked like it hovered one step out of the nearest junkyard, but the jeep had enough kick to leap forward like a panther.

“Why?” Riley shouted over the engine’s roar as she punched down a narrow road, the shops a blur at the edges, toward the coast. “What makes an island an island?”

Sasha wondered if a crash hurt less if the eyes stayed closed. “It’s surrounded by water.”

“So why choose an island to hide treasure if you’re just going inland? The coast—bays, inlets, caves. Most translations of the legend talk about the Fire Star waiting to light again, that it sleeps in the cradle of land beneath the sea. Some mythologists figure Atlantis.”

“That follows, as Atlantis is a myth.”

Riley flicked Sasha a look. “You’re here looking for a fallen star created by a moon goddess, but dissing Atlantis?”

“And hoping I don’t die in a car crash.”

“That’s what the roll bar’s for. I have a colleague who’s been searching for Atlantis for nearly twenty years now. I’m leaving that one to him.”

The road was like a speedway where every driver seemed determined to cross his personal finish line before the rest. Riley drove like a maniacal demon, barely slowing when they zipped through a village.

“Kontokali, if you’re checking the map,” she said. “It’s got one of the oldest churches on the island, and a castle ruin I’ll check out if I have spare time. How you doing back there, Irish?”

He’d angled sideways, propped his feet up on the second seat. “You drive like a hellhound, Riley.”

“I always get where I’m going. Seeing as there are three of us now, I had a thought. We can each keep shelling out separately for a hotel room, or we could pool it, rent a place. It’d be cheaper all around.”

“And more private,” Bran added, as he’d had the thought himself. “It gets a bit awkward trying to discuss hunting for stars and evading dark gods in hotel restaurants. What do you think, Sasha?”

She stared out at the sea, and the skier flying along the blue behind a bright white boat. “I guess it’s more practical.”

“Done,” Riley announced. “I’ll make some calls.”

“To your contacts,” Bran finished.

“Pays to have them. Gouvia,” she added as they came to another village. “Old Venetian shipyards. Multiple beaches and coves. May bear looking into.”

Sasha had time to consider the sun-washed color of buildings, pedestrians in holiday gear, a stream of coastline before the village lay behind them.

“You don’t appear to need a navigator.”

“Not yet.”

Sasha got used to the speed, at least used enough for her heart to stop knocking at every turn of the road. She soothed herself with the sea, the movement of it, the scent of it in the blowing air. The fragrance of flowers mixed with it as they bloomed wild and free on the roadsides, their colors more vivid and intense than any she’d seen. Madly red poppies springing out of a field, greedy morning glory smothering hedges in violent blue, the curving branches of a Judas tree bursting with searing magenta.

She was here, Sasha thought, to find answers to questions that dogged her. But she was here in such bright, hot beauty, and that alone was a personal miracle.

She gave over to it, lifted her face to the sky, let the warm, perfumed air wash over her.

Riley had some tidbit about every village they passed through. Sasha wondered what it was like to be a kind of human guidebook, to have traveled so widely, to actually and actively seek out adventure.

For now, she let herself be in the moment, one of sun, speed, scenery.

She could paint for years here.

Maybe her heart knocked again when they sped along a stretch with sharp turns, with the sea a breathless drop tucked close to the road.

Gradually they turned west, bypassed a large and busy town Sasha identified on the map as Kassiopi.

The road snaked again, skimmed by a lake she longed to sketch.

“Coming in to Acharavi. Originally called Hebe—probably after Zeus’s daughter—in ancient times. Then Octavian sacked it in like 32 BC, so the current name, which basically means ‘ungracious life,’ since being sacked and burned is pretty ungracious.

“We’ll take a pit stop there,” Riley continued as they flew by a water park. “And I’ll make those calls. Albania.” She gestured to the land mass across the water.

“Albania,” Sasha repeated, both giddy and astonished. “Imagine that.” A family water park where she could hear squeals as kids came down the slides on one side, and the coast of Albania on the other.

Was that really any more amazing than a star of fire?

Acharavi bustled with its wide array of shops lining the main street. April had barely begun but holiday-goers thronged the resort town, wandering the shops or enjoying lunch at one of the pavement cafes.

“Spring break,” Riley commented, and turned off the main road. “A lot of Brits and Americans, I’d say, because I see a lot of pale skin that’s going to burn. Hope you stocked up on the sunscreen, Irish.”

“I’m covered there, thanks.” The minute she stopped, he boosted himself out, rolled his shoulders. “You picked a good spot to stretch things out.”

“Aim to please.” She pulled out her phone. “If you two want to walk down to the beach, I’ll catch up.”

Golden sand, sea oats, blue water, and the boats on it, some trailed by skiers. And Albania shadowing the horizon.

Sasha grabbed her pack. She wanted ten minutes—maybe twenty—just to sketch.

“You’re going to want to get yourself a hat,” Bran told her. He took his own, dark gray with a wide, flat brim, and dropped it on her head.

“If I’d been wearing one, it would’ve blown off in the first five minutes.”

“She can drive.” He hoisted his own pack on his shoulder as they walked. “So, did anything strike you along the way? I’m thinking she’s doing this coastal tour to see if something does.”

Of course, Sasha thought. Not just a wild ride along the coast—but another kind of search.

“I should’ve thought of that. No. It’s all beautiful, even at the speed of sound, but I didn’t feel anything. I don’t even know if it works like that. I’ve never tried.”

“Why not?”

“Having something unusual, it separates you, makes you feel like the odd man out, I guess. I used to want to fit in, so much, then I finally realized, well, that’s not going to happen. I’ve just focused on my work, at least until all this started. And now . . .”

“Now?”

“I’m in Greece and I’m looking out at Albania—so close it looks as if you could swim to it. It’s more than anything I could imagine.” She closed her eyes, breathed deep. “Even the air’s exotic. But if she drove here, stopped here hoping I’d have some sort of vision, it’s not happening.”

“I think it won’t be so easy.”

She thought of the visions she’d had. Blood and fear and pain and the dark. “No, it won’t be.”

“We need to find a place, Riley had the right of that. A place the three of us can spread out, study up, plan. A kind of HQ.”

The idea made her smile. HQs seemed as far removed from her world as swimming to Albania. “HQ.”

“Exactly. And as I don’t know that the other three you’ve drawn will just walk up to us, as we did to each other, we’ll need to ramble about like we are today.”

“We have to come together. Until we do, we can look but we won’t see; seek, but not find. Not a vision,” she said quickly. “Just a kind of knowing.”

“Which strikes me as the same.”

“Maybe. I want to sketch while we’re here.”

“We’ll need to get you a chair. We can rent one, I expect, or . . . There’s a taverna right over there. How’s that view?”

“That would be fine.”

Once they had a table, and she’d angled her chair, he studied the view as she did. “Want a beer?”

“Oh, no, thanks. Maybe something cold.” Pulling out her pad, she began to draw the flowing sea oats and long slice of beach.

He ordered a Mythos for himself, and the Greek juice that was a combination of orange, apple, and apricot for Sasha. As she sketched, he took out his phone to check his emails.

Even as he dealt with work he watched her, those slim, pretty hands conjuring a scene with paper and pencil.

She left out things that were there, he noted. The people. Her beach was deserted but for birds winging over the sea.

She flipped to another page, began another. He supposed she’d term them rough sketches, but he found them both wonderfully lean and fluid. It was a kind of magic, he thought, that she could with quick, sure strokes of a pencil create her vision.

She started a third—a different perspective, he saw. Not quite the beach spread in front of them, and hers with a moon, not quite full, floating through a drift of clouds over a sea where waves tossed.

A woman stood at the edge of the sea, facing it, her dark hair a tumble to her waist. Her skirts billowed around her knees. To her right, high, sheer cliffs rose, and on them stood the shadow of a house where a light glowed in a single window.

When Sasha stopped, turned back to finally pick up her drink, he set his phone down.

“Will she go into the sea or back to the house on the cliff?”

“I don’t know.” Sasha blew out a breath, sipped again. “I don’t think she knows either. It’s not here. I don’t know why I looked out there and saw this so clearly.”

“Maybe we’re close. She’s the only person you drew. In the other sketches of this beach, you left out the people.”

“Oh.” She shrugged. “It’s more peaceful without them. I don’t usually draw people. Or I didn’t. When I was studying and we used models, I’d end up reading them. It’s the focus, and it always felt so intrusive. I learned how to block it out, but it didn’t seem worth the effort. I like the mystery of a scene empty of people.”

She propped her chin on her fist, smiled at him. “You like scenes full of people.”

Conversations—something she’d avoided tucked away in the mountains—took a different tone, had a new appeal, when she had them with someone who knew what she was, and accepted.

“And how would you know?”

“Clubs,” she explained. “You own clubs, and perform, so you must like people. And audiences who marvel at your magic tricks.”

“I can appreciate an empty beach as well. But . . .” He held up a hand, empty palm toward her, closed it into a fist, flashed out his other hand. Then offered her a curved white shell from his once-empty palm. “I like the marvel.”

She laughed, shook her head. “How do you do that?”

“Nothing up my sleeve.”

“And no smoke and mirrors around either.” She traced the edges of the shell. “How did you learn to do magic?”

“You could say it’s a family tradition. My mother actually taught me my first . . . bit.”

“Your mother. Does she perform, too?”

“In her way.” Because he liked her laugh, he took a deck of cards from his pack, fanned them out. “Pick a card, any card.”

She drew one out, glanced at it. “Now what?”

“Back in it goes, and you take the deck. Shuffle it up. We should reward ourselves with a swim at the end of the day. Which would you pick, sea or pool?”

“The sea.” If no one else was on the beach, she added to herself. “How often will I have the chance to swim in the Ionian? Is that enough?”

“It is, sure, if it feels enough for you. Set the deck down again, and fan it out yourself.”

She did as he instructed, leaned forward, eyes sharp.

“Now where do you suppose your card might be. Here?” he tapped a card. “No, no, maybe here. Ah, here comes our Riley.”

“Playing cards and drinking beer, while I’ve been sweating over a hot cell phone.” She dropped down, picked up what was left of Bran’s beer, and drained it.

“He’s doing a card trick, but I don’t think it’s working out for him.”

“Such lack of faith and wonder.” Bran sighed. He ran a fingertip along the fanned cards. “Not here or there at all, it seems, because . . . Do you mind?” he said to Riley and took the hat from her head, turned it over. “Your Queen of Hearts is in Riley’s hat.”

Sasha’s eyes widened. “That’s not possible.”

“And yet it is.” He held up the queen between two fingers, turned his hand at the wrist, and held nothing.

“I’ve gotta say,” Riley commented as Sasha gaped. “That’s some of the best close-up magic I’ve seen. I also have to say I’ve done some magic of my own. We’ve got a place if we want it.”

“How did the card get in Riley’s hat when she wasn’t here?” Sasha demanded.

“But she is here, and she’s polished off my beer.”

“But . . .” Then with a laugh, Sasha held up her hands in surrender. “I want to see you do it again when– Did you say you found a place?”

“Yeah, and that earns me a beer of my own. But I’ll wait until we get there, take a look at it. It’s not far. Just outside of Sidari.”

“I saw Sidari on the map—west of here.”

“You got it. I had some luck.” Now Riley reached out, took a long sip of Sasha’s juice. “Friend of a friend of an uncle. It’s his villa, and he’s in the States on business for the next few weeks. His lucky day, too, as the couple who was caretaking the place had to leave just yesterday. Guy took a bad fall, broke his leg. So the friend of a friend of an uncle says we can use the place if we do the caretaking thing.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Bran asked.

“Yard work, gardening, maintaining the pool—did I mention there’s a pool? There’s also a dog—so feed and water—and chickens.”

“Chickens?” Sasha repeated.

“Feed and water again, and help ourselves to the eggs. We take care, we stay for free until he gets back in about four weeks. Sounds like a hell of a deal to me.”

“We should certainly have a look.” Bran put his cards back in their case. “Ready for it?”

Nodding, Sasha got to her feet. “I think I could live with staying at a villa on the Ionian Sea. It’s just when things sound too good to be true . . .”

“There’s usually a catch.” Bran stood, took her hand. “Why don’t we go find the catch, see if we can live with whatever it might be.”

The road west was nearly straight, until it wasn’t. Then it was a quick series of curves and loops Riley drove with the same careless speed.

Sasha saw clearly why Sidari was billed as the top resort area in the north. Its situation right on the bay, its spectacular views. Too many people was her first thought, far too many filling the streets, the beaches, the shops.

The noise of them made her head ache, stretched her nerves wire thin. But the jittery feeling didn’t pass, even when they’d left the town behind, turned onto a narrow road. She shifted her gaze to the sea again, trying to recapture that sensation of being in the moment.

She saw it, knew it, understood the feeling now. The promontory rose up from the sea, high and proud. She’d stood there with him, in the night wind of an oncoming storm. He had lightning in his hand, and she a terrible burning in her heart.

Her painting.

She hadn’t shown them, either of them, and yet the road had brought them here.

Dimly she heard Riley’s voice talking about coves and inlets, caves, both above and under water.

“It’s going to get bumpy,” Riley added. “House is up, on the cliff. Views ought to be killer.”

She didn’t look, not yet. She already knew what she’d see. Instead she concentrated on the wildflowers, blooming heroically along the side of what was now no more than a track, even blooming in the track itself.

The jeep banged and bumped, forced Riley to at last slow down, then stop when they came to a set of iron gates.

“I’ve got the passcode.” She leaned out, punched the code into a keypad. “He said he had a neighbor come by this morning to feed the dog, do the chicken deal, check on things. And claims the dog’s friendly.”

The road smoothed out a bit, then made a sweeping turn.

“Just let me say score!” With a little war whoop, Riley arrowed toward the villa. “Not the kind of digs I usually bunk in.”

In rich cream against blue sky, the villa rose on its high perch. It angled toward the sea, offering that sweep of view from front and back. The impressive front boasted enough room for a swath of flowering bushes, a few fruit trees, and a verdant lawn before the stone wall. And there the land dropped off as if cleaved by axes. Even the rough steps leading down to the beach made Sasha think of muscular gnomes or trolls with primitive tools hacking at the stone. It owned a majestic set of doors, jutting terraces, wide expanses of glass.

More flowers, more trees graced the side of the house where a stone pathway wandered. Even as Riley turned off the car, a big white dog, a fuzzy polar bear with a long, feathered tail, came strolling out of the shady trees toward the car.

“He’s huge.” Sasha forgot her nerves long enough for new ones to shove in. “You said friendly.”

“He’s just a big boy. Hey, Apollo—his name’s Apollo.” Fearlessly, Riley got out of the car, crouched, held out a hand.

The dog stopped, stared into her eyes. The moment stretched so long Sasha considered jumping out, pulling Riley back in. Though she wondered if a dog that big could simply eat the jeep, with them in it.

Then he walked over to Riley, tail wagging, and nuzzled her outstretched hand.

“You’re a good boy.” She straightened, set a hand on Apollo’s head when he sat. “What are you guys waiting for?”

“Just waiting to see how big a chunk he might take out of you.” Bran launched himself out of the jeep and, just as casually as Riley, stroked a hand down the dog’s back.

“Come on, Sasha, read him if you’re worried. You should be able to read a dog,” Riley pointed out. “They have feelings. What’s he feeling?”

“Happy.” Sasha sighed and got out of the jeep. “He’s feeling really happy.”

“Pack animals.” Riley bent down, kissed the dog’s head. “Need a pack, and that’s going to be us for a bit. I’ve got the alarm code, too, and it seems the caretakers left the keys in the potted palm by the cliff wall, so . . .”

Riley, striding confidently in worn boots, the dog at her heels, walked over to the wall. “Wowzer view. Have a gander.”

Sasha made herself walk over to the stone wall, and there, far below, was the beach she’d drawn at the table at the tavern, when the image of it had overlaid the other.

“It’s only missing the moon and the woman,” Bran said quietly.

“Say what?”

“I drew this while we were waiting for you at Acharavi,” Sasha told Riley. “I didn’t know where it was. Now I do. She was there, down there at the edge of the water. The woman we haven’t met yet. And the villa was a silhouette on the cliff.”

Pleased, Riley fisted her hands on her hips. “Excellent. So this is where we’re supposed to be.”

“I guess it is.” The dog bumped his head under Sasha’s hand, looked up at her with appealing dark eyes, radiating the happiness she’d just felt from him. It made her smile again. “This is where.”

“Then let’s go check it out. I call first pick on bedrooms.” Riley set off at a run, and with a joyful bark, Apollo raced behind her.

“We can flip a coin for second pick,” Bran offered, and Sasha felt her balance return.

“As if I’d flip a coin with a magician. I call it,” she announced, and ran after the dog.