“What you see might help, too,” Sawyer told her. “You should let us know.”

“I want to help. When we find the Fire Star, it will get harder. She’ll be angry we have what she wants.”

“That’s a good bet,” Riley agreed.

“I say set the course, Doyle.” Bran’s gaze gleamed hard and bright. “And let’s see if we can really piss her off.”

*   *   *

They found nothing, though they pushed it to three dives. Fatigue hung over the boat like a cloud on the trip back to the marina. Sasha tried to shake it, reminding herself they’d barely begun. They weren’t likely to stumble across the prize without a lot of sweat and effort.

But the sensation of adventure had faded for the day, and only a thin shadow of dread remained.

It seemed infectious.

Sawyer toyed with his compass and brooded. Riley huddled over her logs. Even Annika had lost some of her shine and sat curled on a bench, staring out over the water.

“Your vision,” Bran said at length. “On the cliff, in the storm. Calling the storm. The lightning. Maybe it’s time.”

“No.” Panic clawed through her belly.

“You can’t let fear cloud it.”

“It does. It does, but it’s not only that. There was something urgent, immediate, even desperate in it. Beyond the danger of it, even beyond the power. It’s not for now. I don’t know when or why, but I’m sure it’s not now.”

“But you’ll say when it is?” He closed a hand over hers before she answered. “Truth, Sasha. And a promise.”

“Yes. I think you’ll know as well as I, but yes.”

That added another layer of dread as they dealt with the gear and equipment. She wanted her paints, Sasha decided. To lose herself in them for an hour. By the time Riley pulled up at the villa, Doyle roaring in behind her on his bike, she’d set plans to begin her series of local flora.

“I’m heading back to the village,” Riley announced. “I’ve got some people I want to talk to, some lines to tug.”

“I could go with you,” Annika began.

“I’m not looking to shop. Don’t look for me for dinner,” she added. “In fact, don’t wait up. I might get a hot date out of this.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be going out on your own,” Sawyer said.

“I can handle myself, cowboy.” The dog poked its head in the jeep, wagged all over. “You hang here, big guy.” Though she ruffled his fur, she nudged him away. “I’ll be back when I’m back.”

The dog looked mournfully after her when she drove off, then leaned his big body against Annika.

“It’s all right. I’ll play with you.”

After the others walked off, Sasha stood, staring after the dust the jeep kicked up behind it on the narrow road.

“What is it?” Bran demanded.

“I don’t know. It just feels off. Something.”

“Open to it, Sasha.” He laid his hands on her shoulders, rubbed.

“I can’t get there. She doesn’t want me to. I just know she wasn’t telling the truth—or not all of it. I need to clear some of this out. I need to paint awhile.”

“I’ve work of my own.”

“We don’t feel together,” she said as they started for the house. “I don’t mean you and me. I mean all of us. Last evening, it felt we were—or really close. But now, it feels as if we’ve all closed into our separate places. Maybe that’s what feels off.”

“I’d say we’re all a bit tired. It’s been a long day.”

“That’s probably all it is.” But she glanced back at the road again, at the dust settling as they climbed the terrace steps.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sasha painted until the sun bled over the western horizon. She couldn’t quite lose the edgy feeling, but she’d dulled it. She’d hoped to see the jeep drive back by the time she cleaned her brushes, but nothing came up the bumpy little road.

She wanted Riley back, wanted her new family under one roof, however silly it sounded. And because she’d sensed Riley wanted exactly the opposite—and knew just how it felt to need solitude—she made herself go down.

She supposed she’d be in charge of dinner—again—and there wasn’t any point in resenting it just because she was in a bad mood.

But when she stepped into the kitchen, she found Annika carefully chopping peppers.

“Sawyer’s teaching me to cook. I like learning.”

“You catch on quick. Doing a big stir-fry,” he told Sasha. “I figured I’d just toss stuff in. Anything you don’t like, hell, eat around it.”

“I can do that. Anything else I can do?”

“You could crack open a bottle of white. I don’t care what kind. Some for this, some for us.”

“That I can also do.”

It dulled the edge a bit more, watching Sawyer show Annika how to chop and slice, sipping wine while others cooked. And more yet when Bran strolled in, spun her into a kiss.

“It’s pretty,” Annika said, with a long, long sigh. “Kissing’s pretty.”

“Let’s be pretty again.” Bran grabbed Sasha back, dipped her a little this time.

“I’d say you’re not tired now.” Though her pulse skipped and danced, Sasha turned to get Bran a glass.