“You’d be bleeding.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

They charged. Knives met, crossed. They held there, like pirates, eyes hot before Doyle shoved her back. She recovered, swung into a roundhouse kick, hit him chest high. He grabbed her foot, used momentum to thrust her into the air. She managed to flip, landed, but off-balance enough to have to reset.

He charged again, took her down, his knife to her throat.

“And you’re done.”

“You, too, old man. My knife’s in your gut.”

He lay on her a moment more, admitting only to himself he was winded and his balls ached like a bitch. Then he lifted enough to look down, and sure enough, her knife was hilt deep in his gut.

“Wouldn’t kill me for long, but you’d still be dead.”

“Good thing I won’t be fighting Lazarus. Get off me.”

“In a minute.” He looked around at the audience. “I’ve got her down, and we’ll say she’s unarmed for these purposes. My knife’s at her throat. What do you do? Annika?”

Without hesitation, she jerked up her arm. He felt a tingle in his knife hand. “Perfect. Aim and reflexes. Bran.”

Bran flicked his hand, and the knife turned into a banana.

“A bit of humor,” Bran said. “But effective.”

“Good enough. Sasha?”

She took Bran’s knife, threw it. It hit Doyle in the back of the head.

“Impressive.”

“I was aiming for your back, center mass. But I’ll take good luck where I find it.”

“Sawyer?”

With a hand in his pocket, he measured distance. In an instant he crouched beside Doyle and Riley, sliced his knife cleanly on Doyle’s throat. And gripping Riley’s shoulder, popped them both back to where he’d stood.

“Good enough.” Doyle got to his feet. “Of course, this is saying any one of you has that split second to act.”

“We’ll make the second,” Annika insisted. “We’re meant to protect each other. If we don’t do all we must for each of us, we fail. If we find the stars but one of us falls, we fail. We thought you’d fallen that night in Corfu, and we grieved. Because we’re family now. Family protects, always.”

“You used your second to shield Riley that night,” Sasha reminded him. “Anni’s right. It’s the six of us who are meant to find the stars. If any of us fall, we fail. We can’t fail. I’ll work harder.”

“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.”