Falling Light (Game of Shadows #2)(81)

So Astra had waited until Michael and Mary went to bed. Then she got to work. For the first time in years, she went into Michael’s armory/office to gather the materials she would need. She wasn’t as strong as she used to be, and she had to make several trips down to a secluded area.

The only safe place to dock a boat was the little bay with the pier. The water around the rest of the island’s shoreline covered an uneven rocky terrain. She particularly liked the area of shore that she chose for that night. For a good fifty yards out from land, half-submerged boulders made the water treacherous to any boat larger than her small, handmade bark canoe.

After she had gathered what she needed and carried her canoe down to the water’s edge, she sat waiting in the shadow of an outcrop of rock.

The fox she had healed some time ago joined her. She allowed his companionship. He was a sensible little fellow and knew the value of hiding in silence. He curled around her ankles. She stroked his fur while she drew the tightest, most impenetrable part of her cloak around them.

Several hours after nightfall, large, dark boats surrounded the island. Men, dressed in black wet suits and armed with water-protected assault rifles, slithered over the sides of the boats and swam to shore.

One man passed by so close to Astra’s hiding place she could hear his breathing. The fox trembled under her stroking fingertips, but he remained silent and stationary.

The battle at the cabin erupted. She sat unmoving. Neither Michael’s shock and outrage nor Mary’s hurt and fear caused her to shift. She did nothing as fire destroyed her home. She waited while Mary was netted, and by virtue of Mary’s immobility, their attackers had Michael trapped.

I am a stone by the water, she thought at the night. Astra is hiding inland.

She stirred only when a sleek, dark powerboat purred into the small bay and the Deceiver stepped onto her island.

Then she lowered her canoe into the water and stacked her supplies into it. She picked up the fox and deposited him in the canoe as well. If he had stayed with her this far, he could come along for the rest of the journey.

Mary and Michael might die. She experienced a pang that faded almost as soon as it had come. If they died, they died. At least she would be done with all the drama. She no longer had room for anything else but the one task she had waited her entire existence on this earth to complete.

She was tired of being scared. She was tired of living with guilt and heartache and loneliness. She had called in all her favors. She had to go on trust that help would be available when she needed it. If she failed and the Deceiver destroyed her, well, somebody else would just have to take up the intolerable burden of this fight.

She bent over until her mouth hovered just above the gentle lapping water, and she whispered in a voice so soft even the mosquito hovering near her ear couldn’t overhear.

“Hi, Lake? He’s here. Can you swallow any more swimmers that try to get to land?”

The Lake radiated placid innocence but a small finger of water plopped up to kiss her lips.

Astra breathed, “One last thing. It’s important. Would you mind taking me real quiet-like to all the other boats around the island so I don’t have to use my paddle? I’ve got to stick these newfangled explosive things to their sides.”

There was a certain peace to be found in finality. The only people getting off this island would be the victors, and possibly one or two extraordinarily lucky innocents. She kept her spine straight as she sat in her bark canoe and rested her paddle across her lap. Her little fox friend sat at the prow with his bushy tail curled around his feet. His large ears swiveled and twitched at the sound of nearby gunfire.

Their patience was rewarded as a curl of intention rose underneath the canoe. They began to slide through the water in the dark.

Like she had yelled at that damn Deceiver so many times.

Ask, don’t take.

Chapter Twenty-nine

MARY SPRAWLED ON the ground, trussed like someone’s holiday dinner. She listened to the sounds of battle surrounding her. Her mask had skewed when she tried to free herself from the net. Her nose still poked out of a hole but she could no longer see.

She growled. Aside from the dignity factor, it was hard to hear what was happening. What she could hear was violent and disjointed.

Footsteps pounded past. Someone gave a breathless shout. Gunfire spurted. Her body flinched each time she heard the gunfire. She waited for bullets to tear into her flesh. Shivering caused her skin to ripple in trembling spasms. Locked helpless inside darkness, she began to understand how someone could die of fright.

Then she overloaded again, and her mind detached from the battle. Intimate sensory input began to preoccupy her. The ground was cold and wet with dew. Dampness seeped into her clothing. The detritus of forest underneath her, comprised of dead leaves, new plant growth and earth, smelled rich and loamy. She caught a hint of acrid smoke.

She hoped the cabin wouldn’t set the rest of the island on fire. She hoped she wasn’t lying in poison ivy. She had to go to the bathroom, only Michael had blown up the toilet.

I have nylon panties, socks and shoes, she thought. I have a Kevlar vest and a damn inconvenient mask.

I have two nets. No. I guess two nets have me.

I have a headache. I have a bad feeling.

Her mind settled into cool focus. Michael fought because he wouldn’t leave her. He didn’t snatch her up and carry her away because he couldn’t. There were too many men that had converged on their location. He hadn’t killed her yet because he still had hope he could get them out of this alive. Their opponents hadn’t touched her because she was the least of their worries, with Michael loose and running at full throttle.