Stars of Fortune (The Guardians Trilogy, #1)(92)

“Every one of you, every single one, has been on this—this quest—or known about it for years. I’ve known for weeks, so why am I the only one here who can reach down and pull out some goddamn trust when the person with power tells us he has a way?”

“Ass,” Sawyer muttered, “consider yourself kicked.”

“I don’t want to kick anyone’s ass. I don’t want to rant like this, and I can’t seem to stop. God, I think I need to sit down.”

As she started to, she saw Bran in the doorway, his gaze—dark and intense—locked on her face.

“Just had a little meltdown,” she managed, and did sit. “I’d apologize to everyone, but I think I had some valid points mixed in with the tirade.”

“More valid points than tirade,” Riley told her.

Annika poured a glass of wine, brought it to Sasha. “I’m apology.”

“I’ll give you waiting to hear the plan.” Doyle leaned back on the counter, nodded to Bran. “So let’s hear it.”

“I thought of it sitting on the terrace of the hotel, the first day. It needed some work,” he added, and laid the painting on the table.

“My painting—the one you said you’d bought.”

“Before I met you, yes. I sent for it. I told you I knew these woods, this path. Because I’ve walked that path through those woods, toward that light. I have a place there, of my own.”

“In Ireland.”

“Yes, near the coast in Clare. A place I happened upon some time ago. It spoke to me, so I built a home there, though Sligo had always been mine before. This place, at the end of the path and into the light called to me. And to you, or why else would you have painted it? Why else would I have wandered into that gallery and seen it, and known it for mine? There’s a purpose in things, and this is clearly purposeful. The star will be safe there. I believe with all I am it will be beyond her there.”

“Okay.” Riley shoved up to pace. “Okay, I get it. That’s a powerful and strong connection. And I’m giving Sash her valid points. We should have more trust. But how do we get it there? Tap Sawyer for another zip—can you get us all that way?”

“If I had the coordinates, yeah, I think so.”

“I’ve a better way, the way I’m sure it stays beyond her. I can send it through the painting.”

“That’s f*cking genius. Is that even possible?” Riley demanded. “Because it’s f*cking genius, and makes me want to kick my own ass for doubting you had a solid plan.”

“It’s my place, and Sasha’s vision of it, here. It’s possible, yes.”

Doyle stepped over to the table. “Through the painting to the coast of Clare.”

“Where your people were from.” Bran gave Doyle a long, cool study. “I think that’s not without purpose either.”

Doyle looked up into Bran’s eyes, then shifted his gaze to Sasha. “Trust comes hard, but you have mine for this.”

“We’re six, all linked to each other, to a purpose, to a quest,” Bran added, brushing a hand over Sasha’s. “We must all agree.”

Sawyer scanned the room, nodded. “So say we all.”

“Then.” Bran walked over, lifted the star in its shielding globe. He set it gently on the painting, in the glow of light at the end of the path. “If so say we all, each lay a hand on the globe, and say this. Together:

“To protect this bright fire, this pure light, I send it safe where no eye can see, no hand can touch, no darkness shadow.”

As they echoed his words, Bran lifted his own hands up, seemed to draw power out of thin air. It swirled around the globe.

As he lowered his hands, fingers spread over the hands of the others, the star began to sink into the painting. Its fire sparked and simmered on that quiet path in sudden and brilliant reds and golds.

Then it poured toward the light, illuminated all.

And went quiet.

“I could feel it.” Riley lifted her hand, turned it over. “The heat—it’s all yours, Bran—the power of it. And now—nothing.”

“It’s safe.”

“But the painting’s a kind of portal to it, right?”

Bran nodded at Sawyer. “So, as I sent for the painting, I’ll send it back. And it will be beyond her as well.”

“Maybe what we should do next is get ready to get out of here,” Riley began. “In the opposite direction.”

“I don’t think we’ll get anywhere without a fight,” Doyle put in. “Even if Sawyer was up to another group trip this quickly.”

“It’s more than that.” Bran looked at Sasha. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s not—or we’re not—done here yet. I don’t know why. And I don’t know where we look next, or which star we’re supposed to look for. I can’t see or feel. I . . . Maybe the six of us were only meant to find and protect the first.”

“Don’t buy that.” Sawyer shook his head. “Not for a minute.”

“You trust, but doubt yourself too easily.” Obviously irritated, Bran held his hands over the painting, vanished it.

“I can’t call it up the way you do.”

“I say we take a break. Take an hour.” Riley set a hand on Sasha’s shoulder. “One thing, we have to get that boat out of the yard.”