The Wicked (Elder Races #5.5)(12)

She didn’t mind the lack of space or privacy. They would only spend one night on the yacht and cross over the passageway first thing in the morning. After they had finished on the island and the library was safely stored in the cargo hold, the yacht would set sail for international waters, at which point Carling could take possession of the library personally, while Olivia and the others could fly home.

They checked food supplies and containers, tried on wet suits to make sure of their fit and ran through the procedure for crossing over. All members of Sebastian’s team were experienced scuba divers. Dendera, Steve and Olivia were not, and they would use a buddy system for the crossover itself. Each of the three symbologists would make the journey with one of the security team. After the run-through a nearby restaurant delivered supper, which was a simple fare of deli sandwiches and potato salad, along with a yeasty, golden beer from a local microbrewery.

Finally, around nine thirty, Bailey, who had assumed command in Sebastian’s absence, declared that they were done for the day. Everything was packed with precision, and all the equipment had been double-checked. Bailey gave permission for shore leave for what remained of the evening.

Steve, Dendera and half of the security crew disembarked, while the other half remained on duty. Phaedra disappeared too, although Olivia could still sense her presence. She thought the Djinn had not actually left the yacht but instead had merely chosen to let go of her physical form. Olivia couldn’t know for sure, but she guessed that the Djinn had dematerialized to avoid any more need to socialize.

Having no interest in exploring the San Francisco nightlife, Olivia chose to remain aboard. Her body clock was acclimated to Eastern Standard Time and insisted it was past midnight. She was both tired and wound up.

Unwilling to crawl into her cramped bunk, she pulled on a sweater and her jacket and took a second bottle of beer with her up to the deck. Within a few moments, she was shivering. She had packed with the island weather in mind, which, Carling had informed her, was consistently mild. The bottle of beer, while excellent, was chilled, and a frigid wind blew off the Bay and pierced through all of her clothing.

But the view was so stunning it held her at the rail. The illuminated Golden Gate Bridge arched high over silver-tipped, black water. Traffic wound along the bridge in a long, undulating ribbon of incandescence. Lights blazed everywhere on both sides of the Bay underneath a night sky draped with moody clouds. She could feel the magic of the Other land shimmering in the distance, and she was so happy to be exactly where she was in that moment, all of her senses were wide open.

She felt Sebastian’s forceful presence a moment before a wool blanket settled around her shoulders. He moved to stand at the rail beside her, and she grabbed at the edges of the blanket before it could slip to the deck.

He asked, “You weren’t interested in going into the city with the others?”

“Not in the slightest,” she said. She made a conscious effort to relax her jaw so that her teeth wouldn’t chatter. “Especially not when there is a breathtaking view like this one. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. When you’re through with the blanket, you can fold it up and put it back in the storage box.”

She looked where he pointed at an oblong white container set in the shadows behind a steeply slanted ladder that led to the pilot’s cabin. Then she glanced back at him. He had slipped on a worn leather jacket but hadn’t bothered to zip it closed. Underneath he wore the same gray T-shirt that he had earlier, the thin material molding against his muscled chest and flat abdomen, yet he appeared perfectly comfortable in the chilly night.

He still wore his sunglasses. As certainty settled into place, she felt an unexpected pang. She had seen him do any manner of tasks that said he was sighted, such as reading off his laptop, but something must be wrong with his eyes.

She turned to face the water, pulled the blanket tighter around her and said, “It’s so beautiful out here, I don’t want to go in.”

He stayed silent for so long, she began to wonder if he was through interacting with her. When he finally replied, he sounded reluctant, almost as if he spoke against his better judgment. “There are deck chairs in storage too, if you want.”

She decided she was being too fanciful. After all, he didn’t have any reason not to speak with her, and he had, after all, been the one who approached her with the blanket.

She gave him a sidelong smile. “Would it be too odd for me to huddle under blankets and sleep on the deck all night?”

His hard-planed face turned toward her. “I have done so many times.”

Her smile turned wistful. “How lovely. I imagine you’ve traveled all over the world.”

“I’ve spent most of my life traveling for one reason or another.”

Even though she barely knew him, once again she heard layers of nuance in his voice. Not regret, necessarily, but some emotion close to it.

He shifted into a more casual stance and rested his weight on both hands as he gripped the railing. Surreptitiously, out of the corner of her eye, she studied the hand that rested closest to hers. It looked strong and as beautifully proportioned as the rest of his body, broad, with long fingers, and a tracery of veins along the back.

“I like home life, and I like to nest,” she said. “I don’t think I would be happy living a life like yours, but it’s fun to hear stories and to daydream.”