Island of Glass (The Guardians Trilogy #3)(38)

Annika gave Sawyer a puzzled look. “But a coat has arms already.”

“No, it’s a symbol, like an emblem.”

“A heraldic design,” Riley supplied. “And you know, I like it. Sasha should draw us one.”

“That would be a first, but I can try.”

“Symbols matter.” Doyle shrugged when all eyes turned to him. “It’s been said often enough around this group. Clan. So it would matter.”

“I’ll work on it.”

“We can order up matching Tshirts, but in the meantime.” Riley paused to grab another slice. “Pretty sure Nerezza’s feeling a little better.”

“She came at you.” Sasha jerked in her chair. “I didn’t feel—”

“Not directly,” Riley interrupted. “She sent scouts. Ravens. I took out a few of them.”

“You killed birds?” Annika, clearly distressed, laid a hand on her heart.

“Birds don’t turn to ash when you put a bullet in them. These did.”

“Weregirl recognized them for other.” When Riley sneered at him, Doyle just smiled. “Apparently the wolf knows a raven from a minion.”

“Scout,” Riley corrected. “Not that they wouldn’t have clawed our eyes out given the chance, but they were weak—which hopefully translates to her still being weak.”

“But she knows where we are,” Sawyer put in.

“I’d say she does. Not ready to do much about it, but she knows we’re here.”

“And when she’s ready,” Bran said, “so will we be. A clan, a coat of arms, and for my part, a shield. When the time comes, we’ll fight fire with fire.”

“And firepower. Did some scouting of my own,” Sawyer told them. “My take is rather than in the towers, outside on the—let’s have fun and call them battlements—makes a better position for the long-range rifles. You don’t have the cover, but you’d have a three-sixty, and when whatever she sends gets within, say, twenty yards, you’d get cover. Plenty of time for it.”

“That’s good thinking. I’d like to check it out, too.”

“I already have,” Doyle said to Riley. “Sawyer’s right. It’s a better position to target on land, sky, sea.”

Riley considered. “Bran, you know how to do those flying balls for Anni and her Wonder Woman deal?”

“I do, and yes, that’s also good thinking. I can give you targets—land, sea, air.”

“Very cool. We can try it out tonight, after we finish here.”

“I would clean up.” Annika sent an imploring look around the table. “I don’t like the sound the guns make. I would stay here, clean up.”

“That’s okay.” Sawyer gave her hand a squeeze under the table.

“We dive tomorrow.” Wanting to make Annika smile again, Riley changed the subject to something her friend liked. “We should be ready to drive out by eight thirty, so we can pick up the boat, the equipment. Or a couple of us go to get the boat, pilot it back here, and Sawyer travels the rest of you down to it. We’ll keep the boat here for the duration, just have to deal with getting the tanks refilled as we need them.”

“More efficient.” Sawyer circled a finger as he ate. “Riley and Doyle—best at piloting—go for the boat. When we spot you coming back, I’ll get the rest of us on board.”

“Can do. Eight thirty,” Riley said to Doyle, who just nodded.

? ? ?

They went up, leaving Annika to deal with the debris, and outside to look over the crenelated wall into the coming twilight.

“Days are longer—calendar and geography,” Riley said. “She likes the dark, but she may hit more often in daylight. It’s the last round, and she lost the first two.”

“Day or night, we’ll knock them back.” Ready, Sawyer loaded a rifle. “Give me a target, at least fifty yards out.”

“Where would you like it?” Bran asked.

“Surprise me.”

Obliging, Bran sent a globe into the air, out above the sea. Sawyer shifted his stance, fired, struck it dead center.

“Figures.” Riley lifted the second rifle. “Give me one.”

This one Bran sent high into the north. Riley took it down.

“Okay, let’s make it a hundred yards, multiple targets. You game?” Sawyer asked Riley.

“I invented the game. Go.”

After the barrage of fire, Riley lowered her weapon. “You don’t miss, cowboy.”

“You didn’t either.”

“I only nicked a couple of them. You hit dead-on, every one. More practice for me. You need to try it.” Riley offered the gun to Sasha.

“I don’t know how I can shoot what I can barely see.”

“Bran’s going to bring it in for you. Start at twenty yards, Bran, straight ahead over the water.”

Doyle stepped behind Sasha. “It’ll recoil, so you need to go with that.” He adjusted her stance, put his hands over hers. “Use the sight, hold it steady. Do you have it?”

“Well, I can see it, in the cross—the crosshairs.”

“Steady,” he said again. “Don’t jerk when you pull the trigger. You want it smooth, building the pressure, like drawing a line. Keep drawing it even after you fire. A slow pull, all the way. Take a breath, hold it, fire.”