“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.”

“No, you have the key.” He pulled her to her toes so her eyes were level with his. “You are the key.” He kissed her, not gently. “Use what you are.” He kissed her again, and light snapped around them. “Wake up!”

She sucked in air like a swimmer surfacing from deep water. When her bones melted, Bran scooped her up, then sat cradling her.

“You’re all right.”

“My head.”

“You came out too fast, and you will fight it. Just breathe through it. Annika, would you get her some water?”

“What happened? Why—” She broke off when she realized she sat on Bran’s lap, outside, and in nothing but a night slip. “Oh, God. Again?”

When she tugged the slip down her thighs, Riley let out a bark of laughter that sounded like relief. “Relax, you’re covered. If I’d been the one wandering around dream-walking, I’d be standing here naked. I’ve got plenty of aspirin, and a couple Percocet I hold back for emergencies.”

“I can see to it. Breathe,” Bran repeated. “And relax.” He laid his hands on her head, stroked, ran his fingers through her hair, took them over her forehead, back, over her scalp to the back of her neck.

“Put it in my hands,” he murmured as Annika rushed back with a glass of water. “It’s only pain. I can ease it if you put it into my hands.”

“I remember.”

“Good. Remembering means you’re not fighting it. The less you fight it, the less of an opening you give her.”

“The Globe of All.” She sipped the water. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. But,” Riley vowed, “I’ll find out.”

“She had it, in the cave. In her hand. Did you see it?”

“A glass ball,” Sawyer said. “I didn’t get a good look—a little busy—but there was movement in it. You said it wasn’t hers.”

“I don’t know whose it was, I’m sorry.”

“I’ll find out,” Riley assured her. “It’s what I do. Now what’s this about a curtain?”

“What happens when you draw a curtain?” Bran continued to rub Sasha’s head. “You block or hide things. I’ll work on that. Draw curtains, you could say, around us, so we’re not as exposed to her.”

“It’s better now. Thanks.” When she tried to get up, Bran simply held her in place.

“You’re fine where you are.”

“I can’t add more to any of this, at least not right now. I don’t understand half of what I said, and I’m too tired to think. I need to sleep.”

“I’ll take you up.”

“You don’t need to—”

“I need a few things from my room.”

He walked her up, held her for a moment in the doorway. “I can protect you, at least to a point.”

“What?”

“Charms and spells,” he said, and drew her back. “I’d want your permission for that.”

“To block her out.”

“As much as I can. The rest is for you. You are the key, Sasha. You are the master of your own gift.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. Yes. Blocking her out doesn’t just help me, it helps all of us.”

“Go on to bed then, and I’ll start drawing the curtain.”

He went to his room, gathered what he needed, got out his book. He made up two charms specific to Sasha. By the time he went back to her room, she slept.

He slipped a charm under her pillow, then lifted her head to fasten the stones he’d fashioned into a necklace on a thin leather cord around her neck.

It would serve, for now, he thought.

“The rest is up to you,” he whispered, and laid his fingers on her temple, murmured the spell that would give her quiet, dreamless sleep until morning.

Then he left her to do the real work of the night.

He found the others still on the terrace.

“Is she okay?” Riley asked him.

“Sleeping.”

“What’s in the bag?”

“A bit of this, some of that.” He stepped back to scan the house. “Big, bloody house, and we’ll need to cloak every door and window.”

“We can help. We want to help,” Annika said.

“For more usual protection, there are basic spells, chants, charms. But when dealing with a god . . . Still, you could help. We’ll cast a circle, but first we could use a broom.”