Island of Glass (The Guardians Trilogy #3)(23)

“Six who carry their blood,” Bran stated.

“Plenty diluted,” Sawyer observed, “but you have to call it cool. We’ve got the blood of gods, man.”

“They used us even then?” Doyle demanded as insult—pure and hot—burned through the grief. “Sealed our fates? Determined my brother would die an agonizing death before he was really a man so I would be cursed with immortality?”

“I don’t think so.” To offset the rise of his anger, Riley spoke briskly. “I’m not claiming the gods can’t be cruel, but I also don’t believe they refine the details. You’d have had a run-in, somehow or other, with a force that turned you. Sasha might have embraced her gift all her life, but she’d still have ended up in Corfu. Me, too, even if I’d opted to write and teach rather than going for fieldwork.

“But yeah,” she said after a moment, “they used us. They gave us some of themselves, and that part of the blood may have influenced us all to come together, to stay together, to risk what we’re risking.”

“And don’t you think it’s helped us beat Nerezza?” Sasha met Riley’s eyes. “You think that, and so do I now. I’m so sorry, Doyle, and I wish I’d known or felt before you looked at the sketch. I wish there’d been a way to prepare you.”

“It’s not on you. I read the damn description, and didn’t put it together.” He could wonder now why it hadn’t struck him, but there was no going back. “I don’t like the idea that a trio of gods started my bloodline for their own purposes.”

“You can take that up with them when we find the island.” Riley shrugged. “Odds are they’re still around, being gods. And I think odds are we’re going to find the island from here, that it’s going to be off this coast, just as it was for Bran and Doyle’s mutual ancestor.”

“I can swim out and look.” Annika snuggled next to Sawyer. “Sawyer said he’d take me down tonight so I can swim. I can look, too.”

“You can, but I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”

“And it’s not time,” Sasha added. “No, not a vision, just logic. There’s no reason for the island to reveal itself until we have the last star.”

“Agreed.” Now Riley dropped into a chair, slouched, and stretched. “We probably have some time before Nerezza comes after us, so we shouldn’t waste it.”

“Training starts tomorrow, dawn,” Doyle said.

“Check. And I’ve lined up the boat and equipment. Do you know these waters, Anni?”

“Not very well, but I’ll swim, and look. For caves.”

“You got it.” Riley toasted her. “So Annika’s scouting, I’m on equipment, Bran’s already working on more magickal supplies.”

“Doyle and I are going to set up the target area,” Sawyer put in.

“And I’ll finish making dinner, try more sketching.”

“I’ll grab a bowl of that soup early,” Riley told her. “I’d rather not cut it so close to the change again. Bran, any way you can do something on one of the doors so I can get back in on my own?”

“I can, and should have thought of it. I’ll charm the door leading into the kitchen so you’ve only to step up to it.”

“Thanks. Unless anybody has more to say, or needs me, I’m going to go use the gym for a while.”

“You did hear training at dawn?”

Riley grinned at Sasha. “Entirely different. Hey, come up with me. We’ll do some lifting.”

“I’m going to lift a wooden spoon to stir the soup.”

“I would go with you.” Annika popped up. “I like the gym with the mirrors.”

“Yes, I know. Come on.”

“What will we lift?” Annika asked as she followed Riley out.

“I bet she finds a way to make pumping iron a game.” Sawyer smiled after her, started to sip some beer, caught Sasha’s glance.

“I’ve got something,” he decided. “Be back in a couple minutes to set up, Doyle.”

“I want a fresh pad.” Sasha stood, moved out of the room with him. And left Doyle and Bran alone.

“My grandmother lives,” Bran began. “She walks five miles daily, rain or shine, has a cat named Morgana, pesters my grandfather over his cigars, and enjoys a whiskey every evening. It will be a hard day for me when her time comes.”

He paused, considered. “My family comes here from time to time, and came during the time I was having this house built. My grandmother walked the bones of the house with me in the early stages. She said to me: ‘Boy, you’ve chosen well. This place has known love and grief, laughter and tears, as most have. But this place more than most. You’ll honor that even as you make it your own.’”

“She’s a seer?”

“She’s not, no. A witch, of course, but not a seer with it. She felt it, I think, felt what was here, as I felt it. Something that called to the blood. Yours calling to mine.” Bran leaned forward toward friend, toward brother. “You lost your family, Doyle, some through cruelty, some through the natural order of things. I want to say you have family still.”

“Whether I want it or not?”