“I’d say she knows.” Riley tried to angle around, face the mouth of the cave. A beam from Annika’s bracelet struck the first bat that swooped in.
“I’d say that’s our cue to get the hell out of here.”
“But not the way we came in.” Sawyer pulled out his compass. “Hold on.”
The shift shot them into the light, the wind. Riley heard a hammerblow of thunder, saw something streak and flash. Then she felt herself falling helplessly, tumbling.
Not thunder now, she realized, but the waves crashing on rock. And she fell straight toward them.
The cold, the wet slashed across her face. Her hand groped for her knife. Cut the rope, cut the rope before she dragged the others with her.
Then her body jerked as that rope snapped taut. She flew up again, fighting to breathe, and landed in a wet, boneless heap on the lawn.
“Anni, everybody. Is everybody all right?” Sawyer’s hoarse voice clawed through her stunned mind. “Sash— Jesus, Riley.”
She waved away the hands that tugged at her. “Okay, not hurt. What the hell, Sawyer?”
“Inside! We can’t risk the star in a fight.” Doyle scooped Riley up. “Run,” he ordered, and charged for the house as what had poured into the cave poured over the seawall.
Ignoring, for the moment, the indignity of being tossed over Doyle’s shoulder, Riley reached back for her gun. “We’re secured to the damn tree.”
“Not anymore.”
She got off a few rounds before Doyle shoved into the house.
He swung her off his shoulder, dumped her onto the kitchen island so they were eye to eye. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m wet.” She shoved him back. “Again, what the hell, Sawyer?”
“She walloped us. Best I can say.” He shoved his gun back in his holster. “Knocked me off balance. I lost my grip, so to speak, for a couple seconds.”
“I was falling, toward the rocks.” Riley pushed at her dripping hair. “I think I almost hit.”
“Would have,” Doyle told her. “Without the rope to haul you back.”
“I don’t know what she threw at me,” Sawyer added, “but I bet she’s been waiting to do just that. I’m sorry. I lost it.”
“Not your fault, and you got it back.” Steadier, Riley looked to the window into the deep gloom, the lash of rain. “The storm.”
“No.” With a shove at her wind-ravaged hair, Sasha shook her head. “That’s just anger. She’s gathering more. Right now, Riley needs dry clothes, and as grateful as I am for the ropes, they have to go.”
Bran merely waved a hand, whisked them away.
“Dry clothes can wait. I want another look at the star.”
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Once again, Bran waved a hand. Riley let out a sigh as her clothes, her hair, even her boots went warm and dry. “Gratitude.”
“My pleasure. We’ll take the star upstairs, with the others. Secure it.”
“We’ve got no place to put it yet,” Sawyer reminded him.
“We do.” Bran slid an arm around Sasha. “Our fáidh painted until nearly half two this morning.”
“You didn’t tell us,” Annika said.
“Bran and I talked about it, after I’d finished. We both thought we should focus on getting the star. Until we did . . .”