“He should know. You should all know.”
“Absolutely. Let’s go find him.” She walked up to Sasha, laid a hand on Apollo’s head to stop him from rubbing up against her dreaming friend. “We can go down this way.”
“Yes, we’ll go together.” She looked at Riley, then walking with her, up at the sky. “The moon will soon be full.”
“Yeah, it will. Did you dream about the moon?”
“Not yet.”
By its light they went down the terrace steps, and together turned toward the sound of voices.
The three men sat at the long table, each nursing a beer.
No Annika, Riley noted. A men-only deal, which stoked suspicion.
“You boys talking sports and the stock market?”
Doyle gave her a long look out of hooded eyes. “You girls having a slumber party?”
“Maybe we’ll braid Sasha’s hair—when she actually wakes up. Where’s Annika— Okay, here she comes.”
“She’s dream-walking.” Bran pushed away from the table. “Be careful with her.”
“She came to me, when she couldn’t find you. You’re wet,” Riley said to Annika.
“I had a swim. Is something wrong?”
“Not wrong.” Very gently, Bran touched Sasha’s shoulder. “Did you want me?”
“I do. I have. I will. There are secrets here, each holds them. I will keep them, even from myself, until . . . She can’t see them. Though she wonders, and she watches. She watches even now, in the Globe of All.”
“The Globe of All?” Bran repeated, glancing at the cupped hand Sasha held out.
“It is precious to her, but is not hers. What is taken in lies and through bloodshed cannot belong. But it serves her. And we are there.” She cupped one hand above the other. “Caught in the globe for her to see.”
“Then she should see this.” Doyle shot up a middle finger.
“She will come. Your sword is needed. It will take weapons and warriors, but it will take wile and will, faith and fortitude. Unity that only comes through trust and truth. She watches.” She laid a hand on Bran’s heart. “Will you draw the curtain?”
“I can try.”
“There is no try, only do. Sorry,” Sawyer said immediately.
“Yoda’s never wrong.” Riley patted his shoulder. “Where should we look, Sasha?”
“Where no one has. She watches, but it waits. Its fire cold under the blue light, it waits, the first of three in the willing heart. She cannot see, and would drain me to sharpen her sight.”
“She won’t.” Bran clasped her hand in his. “I swear it.”
“She destroys what loves because she does not. And when she comes, death marches with her.”
“When and where?” Doyle demanded. “Can you see that?”
“I . . .” On a choked gasp, Sasha clamped her head in her hands. “She claws at me. Inside my head. She tears and bites. Draw the curtain. Oh, God, draw the curtain.”
“Wake up.” Bran gripped her arms, shook her. “Sasha, wake up.”
“Locked in. She locks me in.”