“You’ve got my vote.”

“Sasha dreamed of you, with us,” Bran pointed out. “So there’s no question, really.”

“I have one. I just wonder,” Sasha began, “what you do? How you support yourself while you search?”

“I’m a traveler, and I fix things.” He held up his hands, wiggled his fingers. “When you’re handy, you can always pick up work.”

“And one more? You spoke of your grandfather in the present tense, so he recovered.”

Now Sawyer grinned. “Yeah. He’s tough.”

“I’m glad.”

“What about you guys?”

“Seer, magician, digger,” Riley said, pointing to each in turn.

Sawyer studied Sasha. “I figured that, with the dreams and the drawing.”

“I’m an artist.” If she could have, Sasha would have shrugged the term seer off like an itchy sweater. “The other is just what it is.”

“Okay. So what’s a digger?”

“Archaeologist, mythology a specialty.”

“Huh. Indiana Jones. Fits. And magician.” The grin came back. “Like: Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat?”

“Oh, if that’s Rocky and Bullwinkle , this could be love.”

Sawyer laughed over at Riley. “Alumnus of Wossamotta U. Tricks and illusions, escapes?” he asked Bran.

“That’s right.” Bran held up a coin, turned his hand, vanished it. “It pays the bills.”

“Very cool. So, what now?”

“It could be we ended up here so we’d hook with you,” Riley speculated. “But you were heading in the same direction.”

“Felt right.”

“Yeah, it feels right.”

“The drawing you made of the beach, the moon,” Bran said to Sasha. “It wasn’t of Sawyer, but a woman. From the back, yes, but the body type, the hair, it’s clear she’s the one in your other drawings.”

“I’d like to see it again,” Sawyer said. “And you’ve got more?”

Sasha rose. “Yes. I’ll get them.”

“You’re not going to eat that?” Riley gestured to the half sandwich.

“No, I couldn’t.”

“I can.”

“Where do you put it?” Bran wondered. “You eat like a bird—as in triple your own weight.”

“Fast metabolism.”

“I’ll do my share, clear this up, while Sasha gets the drawings.” Sawyer pushed away from the table, turned to the view of the sea. “Beats the hell out of pitching a tent.”

“I hear that,” Riley agreed, and bit into the sandwich.

*   *   *

They spent more than an hour going over the sketches, discussing theories, locations they’d tried—except for Sasha—stories they’d heard.

Then Riley announced she was giving her brain a rest, and trying out the pool.

“Resting the brain’s a good idea,” Bran decided. “It’s been an illuminating couple of days.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting my bearings.” Still Sawyer picked up a sketch of the woman they’d yet to meet. “Do you think she’s really this hot?”

“That’s how I see her.”

“Can’t wait to meet her. I’m going to wander around.” Sawyer got to his feet again. “I like to have a better sense of where I am while I’m there. The pool looks good. Might end up there.”

“Plenty of room. Regroup later?” Without waiting for an answer, Riley strolled back into the house.

“It’s the first time I’ve had a team on this. It’s been interesting so far.” With that, Sawyer wandered off.

“Your sense about him?” Bran asked Sasha.

“Oh, Sawyer? Adores his grandfather—that’s a tight bond. Optimism. I get a strong sense of optimism, and a strong sense of purpose. I don’t like to pry,” she added, “but it seemed we should know. There’s something more to him—I don’t know what—but I didn’t get any . . . evil. I guess it’s not too strong a word, considering. I don’t get anything dark or evil. In fact, so much the opposite.”

“You trust him.”

“Don’t you?”

“I’m a bit slower with that than you might be, but he strikes me as true enough. And there he is, after all.” He tapped the sketch.” Well, I’m after a walk on the beach. Come with me.”

“I haven’t even unpacked.”

“What’s the hurry?” Smiling, Bran rose, offered a hand. “It’s just a walk down the cliff steps.”

She should unpack, organize her tools, but she found herself putting her hand in his. “All right. I want to find some good perspectives to sketch or paint anyway.”

“There, you’ve found your sensible reason for a walk.”

“I think for the rest of you, adventure and risk come naturally.”

“And you think you’re the quiet and settled sort.”

“I am the quiet and settled sort.”

“Not from where I’m standing. You’re the most courageous among us.”

Stunned, she gaped at him as they circled toward the stone wall. “Courageous? Me? Where do you get that?”

“The rest of us? We knew what we were after, and why, and why we came here. But you?” He walked to the pillars and gate, opened it. “You left your home, came all this way, not knowing. And when you saw Riley, you walked right up to her, you risked telling a stranger a story you didn’t understand yourself. That’s courage.”