Riley sliced from a big round of brown bread. “That’s a commercial stove,” she added, “which means I’m not going near it.”

Though she couldn’t wait to try it out, Sasha decided to keep that to herself before Riley decided she was full captain of the kitchen again.

“The men wanted beer. Is there beer?”

Riley jerked a thumb at the refrigerator, and switched from slicing bread to slicing tomatoes.

“We should eat outside. I’ll set that up.”

She found bamboo place mats, opted for the colorful plates, cherry-red napkins, and entertained herself setting a festive table under the wooden slats of a pergola. She transferred the bowl of fruit from the butcher block to the outside table, turned back when she heard male voices.

“Let’s test it out then.”

She came back in as Bran poured a small amount of the wine into a glass. After a sip, he nodded.

“I’ll go with it.”

“Make it unanimous. You scored a hell of a place here.”

“My thoughts exactly. Sasha says we eat outside, and I’m all for it.” Riley set the last of four enormous sandwiches on a platter, dumped half the contents of a bag of chips into a bowl. “Let’s eat.”

Sasha eyed the size of the sandwiches, and when they sat down, cut one in half, put the second half back on the platter.

Bran took a hefty bite of his own. “You’re definitely the queen of sandwiches.”

Busy with her own, Riley nodded. “It’s a gift. So, Sawyer King, we’ll start with the lightning round for the fabulous prize of a stay in a fabulous villa by the sea. What’s your version of the Stars of Fortune?”

He held up a finger until he swallowed, then picked up his wine. “The way I heard it, a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away—”

“Points for the Star Wars reference.”

“A favorite. Three goddesses of the moon, to celebrate the rise of their new queen, created three stars, one of fire, one of ice, one of water.”

He told it well, seemed to have no problem being the focus of attention.

“Okay, that jibes.” Riley crunched into a chip. “For the second part of the round—”

“A two-parter.”

“Yeah. How do you know about them?”

“My Russian grandfather.”

“Is that so?” Bran poured more wine all around.

“Yeah, that’s so. It was one of his favorite stories, which is what I thought it was when I was a kid. Just a story. But he got sick a while back—we didn’t think he was going to make it, and neither did he. That’s when he sat me down, told me it was truth, and more than truth, a kind of destiny. Mine.”

“And you believed him?” Sasha asked.

“He’d never lied to me in my life,” Sawyer said simply. “Dedulya told me the story, and the responsibility, had been passed down in the family for generations. Over . . . time, many had searched, but no luck. But, well, into each generation a seeker is born.”

“Oh.” Riley pointed at him. “Serious bonus points for the paraphrase of Buffy.”

“I like to rack them up. He said I was it, and I’d know I was on the right path when I met five other seekers.” He plucked a couple of grapes from the bowl. “Looks like three out of five so far. Dedulya—and it shouldn’t sound any more weird than the rest of this—he’s sort of psychic.”

“And was that passed down, too?” Bran wondered.

“Not to me.”

“Why here?” Sasha asked. “Why Corfu?”

Since they were there, Sawyer dumped more chips on his plate. “I’ve been at this awhile, hitting dead ends, but gathering some information. Separating the obvious bullshit from what might not be is the key. I was on Sardinia—hell of a place—and traced a lead. This story about Poseidon—not Neptune, so Greek not Roman, and I’m in Italy. Anyway, Poseidon and Korkyra.”

Pleased, Riley, took a handful of grapes for herself. “The beautiful nymph he loved, and who he brought to an unnamed island. He named it Korkyra, for her.”

“Right, and that became Kerkyra. Corfu. The story talked about a Fire Star, gone cold, hidden between land and sea, and waiting to flame again. So, I followed the lead.”

“Same lead I picked up.” Riley popped a grape in her mouth.

“You?” Sawyer gestured to Bran.

“Mine spoke of the land of Phaiax.”

“Poseidon’s and Korkyra’s son, so the island inhabitants were once Phaeacians, and Corfu the island thereof.”

“You know a lot about it,” Sawyer commented.

“She has a doctorate,” Bran told him.

“No shit? Well, Dr. Gwin, did I pass the audition?”

“You’ve got my vote.”

“Sasha dreamed of you, with us,” Bran pointed out. “So there’s no question, really.”

“I have one. I just wonder,” Sasha began, “what you do? How you support yourself while you search?”

“I’m a traveler, and I fix things.” He held up his hands, wiggled his fingers. “When you’re handy, you can always pick up work.”

“And one more? You spoke of your grandfather in the present tense, so he recovered.”

Now Sawyer grinned. “Yeah. He’s tough.”

“I’m glad.”

“What about you guys?”

“Seer, magician, digger,” Riley said, pointing to each in turn.

Sawyer studied Sasha. “I figured that, with the dreams and the drawing.”

“I’m an artist.” If she could have, Sasha would have shrugged the term seer off like an itchy sweater. “The other is just what it is.”

“Okay. So what’s a digger?”

“Archaeologist, mythology a specialty.”

“Huh. Indiana Jones. Fits. And magician.” The grin came back. “Like: Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat?”

“Oh, if that’s Rocky and Bullwinkle, this could be love.”

Sawyer laughed over at Riley. “Alumnus of Wossamotta U. Tricks and illusions, escapes?” he asked Bran.

“That’s right.” Bran held up a coin, turned his hand, vanished it. “It pays the bills.”

“Very cool. So, what now?”

“It could be we ended up here so we’d hook with you,” Riley speculated. “But you were heading in the same direction.”

“Felt right.”

“Yeah, it feels right.”

“The drawing you made of the beach, the moon,” Bran said to Sasha. “It wasn’t of Sawyer, but a woman. From the back, yes, but the body type, the hair, it’s clear she’s the one in your other drawings.”

“I’d like to see it again,” Sawyer said. “And you’ve got more?”

Sasha rose. “Yes. I’ll get them.”

“You’re not going to eat that?” Riley gestured to the half sandwich.

“No, I couldn’t.”

“I can.”

“Where do you put it?” Bran wondered. “You eat like a bird—as in triple your own weight.”

“Fast metabolism.”

“I’ll do my share, clear this up, while Sasha gets the drawings.” Sawyer pushed away from the table, turned to the view of the sea. “Beats the hell out of pitching a tent.”

“I hear that,” Riley agreed, and bit into the sandwich.

*   *   *

They spent more than an hour going over the sketches, discussing theories, locations they’d tried—except for Sasha—stories they’d heard.

Then Riley announced she was giving her brain a rest, and trying out the pool.

“Resting the brain’s a good idea,” Bran decided. “It’s been an illuminating couple of days.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting my bearings.” Still Sawyer picked up a sketch of the woman they’d yet to meet. “Do you think she’s really this hot?”

“That’s how I see her.”

“Can’t wait to meet her. I’m going to wander around.” Sawyer got to his feet again. “I like to have a better sense of where I am while I’m there. The pool looks good. Might end up there.”

“Plenty of room. Regroup later?” Without waiting for an answer, Riley strolled back into the house.

“It’s the first time I’ve had a team on this. It’s been interesting so far.” With that, Sawyer wandered off.

“Your sense about him?” Bran asked Sasha.

“Oh, Sawyer? Adores his grandfather—that’s a tight bond. Optimism. I get a strong sense of optimism, and a strong sense of purpose. I don’t like to pry,” she added, “but it seemed we should know. There’s something more to him—I don’t know what—but I didn’t get any . . . evil. I guess it’s not too strong a word, considering. I don’t get anything dark or evil. In fact, so much the opposite.”