She prepared to fight, bare-handed, saw Sawyer slam his knife into the belly of what looked like a small shark with a massive maw. Annika’s tail slashed out, swept a line of them away with a force that turned them to oily black smudges on the water.
Something hit her like a battering ram in the back, sent her tumbling helplessly in the water. Three circled her, maws wide, teeth gleaming. She punched out, kicked out, adrenaline screaming through her as her fist seemed to sink into the spongy ooze of their bodies.
Lightning struck; their bodies exploded.
Annika streaked by, tail slashing attackers, as she pulled Sawyer with her.
Bran wrapped one arm around Sasha, and rode the lightning to the surface. He all but shoved her up the ladder onto the boat where Sawyer leaned over the rail coughing up water.
“Annika,” he managed. “She went back. Riley. Doyle.”
Before Sasha understood, Bran pushed the star into her hand, and plunged back into the water.
“No!”
“Stop.” Though he staggered a bit, Sawyer grabbed her arm before she could go over the side. “Take the star into the wheelhouse. Keep under cover as much as you can. I need a fucking tank.”
He unhooked hers, would have put it on, but Riley surfaced, gripped the ladder. Setting the tank aside, Sawyer leaned over to help pull her up.
“How bad?” he demanded.
“Bran blasted some of them. If he hadn’t—” As Sawyer had for her, she reached down, grasped Doyle’s arm.
“Bran. Annika.” Clutching the star, Sasha ran to the side of the boat.
“Right behind me. Find something to hold on to,” Doyle warned them. “We’re getting out of here fast.”
Lightning snapped out of the water, and Bran with it. Even as he pulled himself up, Annika flew up, the powerful sweep of her tail shooting off light. In midair, she flipped to the boat, landed on her hands, then just tumbled to the deck.
“She’s bleeding.” Sawyer dropped to his knees beside her.
“Who isn’t?” Riley demanded, but she lowered as well. “How bad is it?” she asked Annika.
“Not very bad. Not like before. But . . .” Her eyes widened, and she pointed toward the sky. “Look!”
More came, like a swarm of wasps.
Doyle started the engines, pushed them for top speed. As they bulleted over the water, Sawyer shook his head. “Not going to be fast enough.”
“Go, up front with Doyle.” Bran pushed Sasha forward.
“We’re not going to outrun them in this.” Accepting, Riley gripped her knife.
“Yeah, we can. Maybe,” Sawyer added as he pulled out the compass. “Stay down,” he told Annika, braced himself against her. “Everybody hold the hell on.”
Sasha turned into Bran, holding the star between them. Held tight as Sawyer reeled off a series of numbers.
It was like being pushed through space, so fast it stole the breath. Her legs buckled; her head spun as the world whirled around her.
Then she was falling, as if from a great height, to land with a rattling thump that would have knocked her down if Bran hadn’t held her.
“Son of a bitch, it worked!” Sawyer gave the compass a loud kiss. “Son of a bitch!”
“We’re back at the villa.” Riley cradled a wounded arm. “And we’re still in the freaking boat.”
They stood, all six, on the deck of the boat. And the boat moored on the lawn between villa and seawall. Apollo ran circles around it, barking joyfully.
“I’ve never shifted that many people.” Sawyer shrugged. “I figured we’d just try for the whole deal. We’ll worry about it later.”
“We’re still in the freaking boat,” Riley repeated.
“And it won’t take her long to send them after us again,” Doyle pointed out. “We need to get the star inside, and get ready for a fight.”
“Please take it.” Sasha held the star out to Bran. “It’s safest with you. We need to dress the wounds. I remember what to get.”
“Longitude and latitude, right?” Riley hoisted herself off the boat. “The numbers you said before you took us on the ride.”
“Yeah. Always have the coordinates of home base right here.” Sawyer tapped his temple.
“The whole freaking boat,” she said again and, clutching her bleeding arm, started for the villa.
Doyle jumped off the side, looked at Bran. “You’re sure about your plan for the star?”
“As sure as I can be. I’ll need some time for it. And need some time to call a storm. One that will knock her back, give us a clear path to go. Wherever we need to go.”
“When you’re ready, we’ll hold them off for you.”
“Us,” Sasha corrected. “I’ll be with him. I saw it,” she said before Bran could argue. “I painted it. I lived it.”
She turned toward the terrace steps. “It’s not negotiable.”
Rather than argue, he took the star inside. He’d do what he needed to do when the time came to do it.
Alone.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN