“You worry Nerezza, fáidh.” Under the table, Bran took her hand. “She can’t force her will on you, can’t pull your power away and into herself as she believed. You worried for all of us,” he said to Sawyer. “But we’d prepared for exactly that.”

“Yeah, I figured Berger for toast, but still. The tank shook. Did the tank shake?” he asked Annika. “The light—it exploded?”

“Yes. Just as you came for me. Malmon ran, but he couldn’t have run fast enough to escape the light.”

“We were dealing with Trake and company when you were heading in,” Riley continued. “We were ready for them. Bran set off the chain reaction up in the hills, and we had plenty more for them here. There . . . was nothing left of them. Wounding with the newly magickalized—I’m going with that word—weaponry, it puts a world of hurt on them. But a kill shot, it just obliterates. Nothing left.”

“No bodies to dispose of. That’s the cold truth here,” Doyle added when Sasha winced.

“You’re right,” she said. “I know you’re right. Bran and Riley went up to the cave yesterday. We had to check, and after some heated debate, Riley went, Doyle stayed. We couldn’t take the chance of Bran going alone, or of leaving us underprotected here. So . . .”

“Nothing left,” Bran told him. “The cave is just a cave. There was . . . a smear of something on the air, something dark. But faint and fading.”

“We salted the ground, and Bran did a cleansing.” Riley shrugged. “And that was that.”

“So we won that round. We have to go back to the search,” Sawyer said. “We have to get moving on it before she figures out how she’ll come at us next.”

Sasha picked up her wine again. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“We go as six or not at all. Until you’re strong enough to dive, it’s not at all.”

“Jesus, I can handle a little swimming. Another little boost from Bran’s magick potion, I could do a triathlon.”

Saying nothing, Doyle leaned over, gave Sawyer a light punch on the shoulder. And Sawyer saw stars.

“Fuck!”

“You’re on the DL, brother, until you can take a love tap without whining.”

“Love tap, my ass.”

“The stars have waited centuries,” Bran pointed out. “They can wait a few more days. When she does come again, we need you.”

“I can tell you when having sex causes him no pain.”

“That’s a good benchmark.” Kicking back, Riley gestured with her beer. “And maybe you should be specific. Like what kind of sex.”

“And how long he lasts,” Doyle added, and made Riley grin.

“They’re messing with us, Annika. Kidding.”

“I’m absolutely serious.” Riley cocked her head at Doyle. “You?”

“Deadly. Keep us updated, Gorgeous.”

“I will. And when he’s healed, we’ll find the Bay of Sighs. We know we must be close because I heard them again.”

“What? When?”

“When you were bringing me back. Didn’t you hear them sigh, hear them sing?”

“I . . .” He cast his mind back. “I thought it was you. I did hear something. Jesus, I did.”

“And I’ve got something,” Riley put in. “Since you’ve been in your magickally induced coma, I’ve been able to spend more time on it. I’ve got some nibbles.”

“And now you tell us?” Doyle demanded.

“I got the nibbles right before Sleeping Beauty here woke up. I was coming out to report. There is a legend. I know a guy who knows a guy who knows. But the guy who knows is currently on a retreat, so I can’t tap him for more data for a couple days. Meanwhile, I’m digging on my own. Like most legends, it has a lot of variations, but the one that strikes me connects the Bay of Sighs to the Island of Glass.”

“Interesting.” Bran leaned forward. “What do you know?”

“Know, not much. Speculate, a lot more. In the version I’m leaning toward, at one time, long ago, the bay and the island were connected. And like the legends regarding the island, the bay moved, and could only be seen by a chosen few.”

Since she’d swapped research for lunch, Riley helped herself to some pasta.

“Then we’ve got a race of people who shared the island. A race that could live on land and in water, and did so peacefully. All’s happy and joy until some dude—names vary, but most common is Odhran.”

“That’s an Irish name,” Doyle said.

“Got that. So Odhran decided, hey, we can live on land or in the sea, why shouldn’t we have everything? They’ve got that fancy castle on the hill. Maybe I want to have that. And we’re better and stronger than they are.”

Bran nodded. “A popular excuse for war.”

“Yeah, and they got one. First, they lured people into the bay, drowned them.”

“With the songs?”

“Not clear,” Riley told Annika, “but possible. Then they burned, pillaged, on their way to storming the castle. But the queen ruling them wasn’t afraid to fight back. Which she did. I’ve got variety again. Raining fire, earthquakes, her riding a winged horse and sweeping the ever-popular fiery sword, and so on. But the result’s basically the same in my research. While the rebels scattered, tried to get back to the bay, the queen rounded them up. She gave them a choice. Death or banishment. Odhran chose death, and got it—according to most of my digging. So did a few others. But the bulk chose banishment. So she blew the bay out to sea. She would spare their lives, and some were innocents. But they would float and wander forever, cast away from their home. Or in some versions until one who came from them redeemed them. Redeemed, they could once again join with the island and live in peace.”