“You did a lot of that this morning, without the book. I didn’t handle myself very well,” Riley continued. “Changing in front of an audience—and I was a little racked up initially. And Apollo . . .”
“Where is he?”
“He went down to the beach with Annika. He’s fine. Like nothing happened.”
“And you?”
“Like I said, if I’m injured as the wolf, I heal fast, even after the change. Look, I get a lie of omission is still a lie, but—”
“You took an oath.”
“I took one to you, too.”
There it was, Sasha thought. And the rest of her anger cooled knowing her friend understood.
“Yeah, you did. And now that I’m tired of being mad, I can see you’d taken steps to keep both, and quickly. It seems like forever, Riley, and it’s been days. Just days. They won’t lock you up.”
“You don’t have any say there.”
“Oh, I think I will.” She drank again. “I think we all will. And they’re just going to have to listen.”
“When did you get to be such a badass?”
“Maybe since I’ve stopped asking myself why me. If people think I’m weak, if Nerezza thinks I am, it’s because I have been. She can keep thinking that, it may be an advantage. But no one else is going to. Including me.”
“If it matters, I never thought you were weak. You’re dealing just fine with a real steep learning curve. Let’s go back just one month. Did you believe in witches a month ago?”
“I dreamed of one—of him—but no. No, I didn’t really believe.”
“In lycans?”
“Absolutely not. I’m still working on that one.”
“But here you are, and that’s so not weak. Magic compasses, magic spells, transformations. Whatever Annika’s got tucked away other than the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter’s likely to be less of a jolt to me, considering my background and upbringing.”
“You think there’s something, too.”
“How can anyone be that happy—and there’s that sack of coins. I’d lean toward faerie, but when I think of faeries, I think cagey. She doesn’t come off cagey.”
“You’re going to tell me faeries exist.”
“In my experience, anything that sticks in lore has a basis in fact. She’ll probably spill it to Sawyer first. She’s crushing big-time there. Then there’s the big guy.”
Riley took a slow sip as she watched Doyle heft something big, thick, and circular. “He keeps his mouth shut, a lot, but he listens to everything.”
“He’s holding something back.”
“No question of that. Maybe some variety of demon.”
“Oh, come on.”
“They’re not all evil spawns of hell, any more than all lycans are man-eaters. He likes Bran well enough, and he respects Sawyer’s eye and aim. Since whatever he is or has or knows, he’s a man, too, and he finds Annika charming. He hasn’t decided about you and me.”
“I can’t argue with any of that.”
“And he doesn’t trust any of us through and through. He’d much rather do this alone.”
“I’m in absolute agreement there, too, but he’s going to have to get over it. And what the hell is he doing?”
Sasha pushed up then because the only way to know was to find out. Tucking the book under her arm, she started toward him. With a shrug, Riley got up to go with her.
He tacked a target to a tree trunk, she saw now, and wondered why someone who favored a sword required target practice.
Then he unzipped a case lying on the ground.
The crossbow was black and sleek and lethal. Sasha felt a tingle along her skin as Doyle set his foot in the stirrup, cocked it. He flicked a glance in their direction, slung a quiver of bolts over his shoulder.
He loaded one, lifted the bow, sighted. The bolt plowed into the target about a quarter inch from dead-center bull’s-eye.
“Nice.” Riley nodded. “Stryker, right? The new one. What’s the draw weight?”
“One fifty-five.”
“You surprise me, you can draw more than one-double-nickel.”
“This is my backup. What can you draw?”
“I can draw that.” She passed her glass to Sasha, held out her hand.
Doyle hesitated, but he handed her the bow.
“Nice, lightweight. Won’t weigh you down on the hunt.”
As he had, she put a foot in the stirrup and, biceps rippling, cocked the bow. She helped herself to a bolt from his quiver, loaded it.
Her shot hit the other side of the bull’s-eye, about the same distance as his. “String suppressor’s a nice touch. Keeps it quiet. I’d say that’s, what, about three hundred FPS?”