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It irked him—an itch under the skin—the way Doyle watched her.

It irked to be called away from work, especially since he’d just decided to call it a night and get some sleep. Now they’d have another powwow, with Annika walking around in that white thing that showed every line and curve.

Then Riley came in, looking several degrees more irked than he was. For some twisted reason, that smoothed him out again.

“I was asleep for exactly three minutes before the Black Knight beats on my door. Where’s the coffee?”

“I’m making tea,” Annika said, ever cheerful.

“Tea’s for sickbeds and your aunt’s parlor. Black coffee or booze is for meetings after midnight.”

“I’ll have coffee,” Doyle said.

“I guess neither of you wants to sleep once we’re done.”

Riley flicked Sawyer a glance as she grabbed two mugs. “If coffee keeps you awake, you don’t know how to sleep.”

The annoyance on her face faded as Sasha came in with Bran. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yes, yes. I’m sorry to drag everybody up, but I—we—think it’s important.”

“Only Riley was sleeping.” Annika carefully poured the boiling water into the teapot. “Sawyer was working, and Doyle and I were outside.”

“You and Doyle. What were you doing?” Sawyer demanded before he could stop himself.

“Having a conversation,” Doyle said easily, then pulled out a chair at the table. “You should sit down,” he told Sasha.

“I think I will, thanks. It was intense.”

“If you dreamed about diving without tanks again, I’m putting a tether on you.” Riley walked over. Slapped a mug in front of Doyle, sat with her own.

“Nothing like that.”

Annika brought cups, the pot, the little strainer for the leaves. “It has to . . . It’s not step.”

“Steep,” Sawyer supplied.

“Steep. Then I’ll pour it for you.”

“Thanks, Anni. All right.” Sasha took a breath. “There was a room, lit by what seemed like hundreds of candles. The furniture struck me as antiques, wealthy, and European. Except for the chair. Nerezza’s chair—that thronelike chair I saw her sitting in, in the cave.”

“But it wasn’t the cave,” Riley prompted.

“No. No, I’m sure it wasn’t. There were windows—elaborate window treatments—I could see some sort of garden, mostly in shadows, outside the windows. Trees. She sat in the chair, and a strange black bird perched on the arm. Not like one of the things that

attacked us. Smaller, but something lethal about it. Eyes more like a lizard than a bird. And there was a man—he seemed human. Late thirties, early forties, I’d guess. Attractive, in a dark suit.”

Pausing, she pushed back her hair, tumbled from sleep. “She got up, poured something into wineglasses, but I know it wasn’t wine. Even in the dream I could smell it—blood and smoke, and something cloying. But he drank.”

She shuddered. Annika jumped up immediately, poured the water through the little strainer. “You need tea.”

“I’m still cold. I can still smell whatever she gave him.” Grateful, Sasha picked up the cup, warmed her hands. “I couldn’t hear what they said—it was like insects buzzing. But she showed him the Globe of All, and I could see each of us in it, as clearly as I see all of you now. Riley turning into the wolf under the full moon, Annika with the mermaid tail sparkling in the sun. Bran, lightning in his hands, Doyle coming back from the dead, Sawyer with the compass. Myself, dream-walking. She knows all of it, and now he knows. Fear was like a hand squeezing my throat. Flames rose up, everywhere around them. I could see through the fire, see them, but there was no heat from it. It burned so cold. I wanted to get out, away. I couldn’t get out. The bird screamed, and flew across to them. It raked its beak over the man’s throat.”

Sasha lifted her fingers, traced a line down the side of her throat.

“He barely blinked. He just stared at her, at Nerezza. I could feel his lust, his greed. Even when she took a snake, a silver snake, and held it to the wound, he didn’t move.”

“Entranced,” Bran said.


Tags: Nora Roberts The Guardians Trilogy Fantasy