“We’re not getting them back fussing over a little cut.”
“If not for Bran, you’d need a dozen stitches, at least, on that little cut.” Sasha walked in with a crossbow, a quiver of bolts, and the gun she’d only fired at targets holstered at her hip.
“Okay, all right. Then I say it’s time for that chain reaction.”
“I’m with the doc on this.”
When Bran said nothing to Riley or Doyle, Sasha sat down. “And if we’re wrong, we’ll have wasted the trap. I need to see. No one’s said that, but everyone’s thinking it. Do you think I can’t feel it?”
“It’d help, sure, but, Sash, we all know you can’t force it.”
“Why can’t I?” she snapped back at Riley. “Why can’t I pull it in when it’s needed? At a time like this, when two of us are— Why don’t you tell me what to do?” she demanded of Bran. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s yours, a ghrá.” He took her shoulders, kissed her brow. “Because it’s only you who can demand it.”
“Then I will, I do! Cast a circle, cast a spell. Help me.”
“With all I have, but there’s no spell. It’s your gift, your mind and heart. Only you can open it.”
“I need air. I need room. I need to breathe.” Desperate, she rushed outside, struggled to calm herself, to settle. When Bran followed, she pressed her fingers
to her eyes.
He drew them away. “Trust yourself, as I do.”
“As we do,” Riley corrected, and glanced behind her at Doyle.
“Yeah. We do.”
“Help me.”
Bran brought the hand he held to his heart. “Feel me, open to me.”
“Love, trust, faith. Bran.”
“Open to yourself, fáidh. Let it come. You’re so strong. Set the fear aside, for everyone. And just open.”
She felt his heart beat under her hand, steady. Steady. Closed her eyes and counted the beats. His. Hers. Theirs. Hers. Hers.
“Oh, they’re hurt. The pain. It’s horrible, and the fear is worse. She fears for him, tries to fight, but they hurt him. He fears for her, tries to fight. They hurt her. Trapped, she’s trapped. Water surrounds her, but it’s cruel. He enjoys hurting them. He knows how. And Malmon—he’s not just a man. His eyes, his eyes, he hides them, but . . .”
“Where, Sasha? Where are Annika and Sawyer?”
“In the cave. Blood and death in the cave. Locked in a tank of water, hurt, losing heart. Weeping. Sawyer, so much blood. One chance, he feels one chance. I can’t see it, not all. So many, and so much pain. Sawyer . . . Wait, wait. He’s gone. He’s gone.”
“Dead. No, no, no.”
She shook her head at Riley. “Gone. Somewhere else. I don’t—”
As she spoke, a light, bright as noon, burst in the hills, and the thunder followed.
“Sniper’s nest.” Doyle grabbed Riley’s arm. “Inside, get inside.”
“Time for that chain reaction, Mr. Wizard.” Riley rushed inside, grabbed her weapons. “And time for us to move.”
“They’re coming.” Filled with her power, Sasha picked up her bow. “Men, Malmon’s men. They’re coming here. They mean to take us.”
“They won’t.” Bran lifted fisted hands, beat his fists together.