She’d carry her weight, Sasha promised herself. And despite being a little queasy, picked up her fork and ate.

*   *   *

Sasha worked on her nerves on the way to the first cave. She’d done all right on the dives the day before—even enjoyed part of them. But the morning vision left her shaken and uneasy. She hoped the cool, damp wind, the flashing sun off the water would clear out those nerves. When they didn’t, she dug out her sketchbook.

“We’ll be fine.” When she glanced over at Bran, he tapped a finger on her temple. “You don’t have to be a seer to see. You’d do better to relax. We’re here for a purpose, and it isn’t to lose when we’ve barely begun.”

“I could smell the blood,” she said quietly. “Hear the shrieks those things made as they poured out of the sky. And feel the madness in them. Her creations, Bran, formed of nothing but hate and madness. Their only purpose is death.”

“Ours is life. I believe life, if it’s willing to fight for it, wins. Trust life. Trust yourself and what’s in you.”

“I’m working on it.”

When they geared up, Sawyer hooked on a camera.

“I picked this up in the village yesterday. Depth rated to two hundred feet. I figured we should start documenting.”

“I’m keeping a log.” Riley studied the camera. “That’s a really nice toy. Good idea, Sawyer. Stills and video?”

“Yeah. I’ll do some of both, see how it goes.”

Though the dive proved pleasant and pretty, even amusing as Annika performed underwater gymnastics for the camera, they found nothing but sea life. And while Sasha caught herself glancing over her shoulder, half expecting to see a black cloud of winged creatures slicing through the sea, she felt more confident in her rudimentary diving skills by the time she pulled herself back on deck.

“Hydrate.” Riley dug in the cooler for bottles of water after she’d stowed her used tank. “That’s three crossed off. My pick’s next,” she added, tossed a bottle to Doyle.

“I’m going to review the pictures.”

“I want to see.” Annika snuggled onto the bench beside Sawyer.

Because she’d leaned in as well, bracing a hand on Sawyer’s shoulder, Sasha felt the lust punch through him. Surprised at how clear it came, embarrassed she hadn’t blocked it, she eased back just a bit.

Not that anyone could blame him, she thought, as Annika wiggled closer. But understanding it and feeling it were different things. To ensure his privacy, Sasha moved to the other side of the deck where Doyle pored over maps.

“Do you have another location in mind?” she asked him.

“A lot of possibilities. We should pick up the pace.”

“Which is slower because I’m inexperienced.”

“You’re doing all right.”

He looked up then, and she sensed something hard and deeply guarded.

“Looking for something?”

She answered as coolly as he’d asked. “Trying not to.”

Still watching her, he picked up his water. “Anyone else in your family with the sight? It tends to run in families.”

“No. Not that I ever heard of.”

It occurred to her she didn’t know him, not the way she felt she’d come to know the others. He held himself just a little aloof. Still, it meant he didn’t know her either. Maybe they should try to fix that.

“Not much family anyway,” she continued. “Both my parents were only children, and I only saw my grandparents sporadically. My father left when I was about twelve. He couldn’t handle what I have. My mother made excuses for me, then made excuses for him. I resented that, which isn’t really fair. She did her best. She does her best. But given all that, I chose to live alone, so I didn’t have to deal with what I have. Where I could focus on art, and I liked it.”

She looked back to where the other four passed around Sawyer’s camera.

“I like this better. Even knowing what could happen, knowing some of what will happen, this is better. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you have family?”

“No. Not anymore.”

“It’s hard, without family. I didn’t realize until . . .” She looked back again. “It feels like alone’s easy until you realize.”

“It’s got its advantages. Only one person to worry about. You want to go left, you go left because nobody’s pushing you to go right.”

“I’d rather go right, at least give right a try, than be alone again. I like the way Sawyer talks about his family, his grandfather especially. And Riley and Bran theirs. They don’t know alone, not the way we do. And Annika . . .”

She couldn’t imagine Annika alone, but it occurred to her she’d never asked.

“Annika? Do you have family?”

“Family?” Tossing back her long braid, Annika smiled. “Yes. I have six sisters.”

“Six—” Sawyer began.

“Sisters?” Riley finished.

“Yes. I am the youngest. Chantalla is the oldest, then Loreli, then—”

“You’re the seventh daughter,” Bran interrupted.

“My father says he’s cursed with girls. He’s joking,” she added.

“Your mother?” Doyle shifted around. “Does she have sisters?”

“She has six, as I have six.”

“And she’s the youngest?” Bran glanced at Doyle as Annika nodded.

“Well, kick my ass.” Riley shoved the camera back at Sawyer. “We’ve got us a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. Do you have the sight, Anni?”

“Oh, not like Sasha. I know things. Just know sometimes. I knew to be on the beach for Sawyer. To be here—this time, this place. So I came. I don’t like to fight, but I knew I would. I will. Sasha sees things that help. That warn. I only see what I’m meant to do.”

“What you see might help, too,” Sawyer told her. “You should let us know.”

“I want to help. When we find the Fire Star, it will get harder. She’ll be angry we have what she wants.”

“That’s a good bet,” Riley agreed.

“I say set the course, Doyle.” Bran’s gaze gleamed hard and bright. “And let’s see if we can really piss her off.”

*   *   *

They found nothing, though they pushed it to three dives. Fatigue hung over the boat like a cloud on the trip back to the marina. Sasha tried to shake it, reminding herself they’d barely begun. They weren’t likely to stumble across the prize without a lot of sweat and effort.

But the sensation of adventure had faded for the day, and only a thin shadow of dread remained.

It seemed infectious.

Sawyer toyed with his compass and brooded. Riley huddled over her logs. Even Annika had lost some of her shine and sat curled on a bench, staring out over the water.

“Your vision,” Bran said at length. “On the cliff, in the storm. Calling the storm. The lightning. Maybe it’s time.”

“No.” Panic clawed through her belly.

“You can’t let fear cloud it.”

“It does. It does, but it’s not only that. There was something urgent, immediate, even desperate in it. Beyond the danger of it, even beyond the power. It’s not for now. I don’t know when or why, but I’m sure it’s not now.”

“But you’ll say when it is?” He closed a hand over hers before she answered. “Truth, Sasha. And a promise.”

“Yes. I think you’ll know as well as I, but yes.”

That added another layer of dread as they dealt with the gear and equipment. She wanted her paints, Sasha decided. To lose herself in them for an hour. By the time Riley pulled up at the villa, Doyle roaring in behind her on his bike, she’d set plans to begin her series of local flora.

“I’m heading back to the village,” Riley announced. “I’ve got some people I want to talk to, some lines to tug.”

“I could go with you,” Annika began.

“I’m not looking to shop. Don’t look for me for dinner,” she added. “In fact, don’t wait up. I might get a hot date out of this.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be going out on your own,” Sawyer said.

“I can handle myself, cowboy.” The dog poked its head in the jeep, wagged all over. “You hang here, big guy.” Though she ruffled his fur, she nudged him away. “I’ll be back when I’m back.”