"Don't care." He kicked open the door to his cabin, set her on the bunk, and immediately took a wad of muslin and dabbed it on her wound. He didn't trust himself to speak. Cupping her arm in his hand, pressing the muslin there to staunch the bleeding, he felt the slimness of her, but also her toughness. Once satisfied that the flow of her blood slowed, he took fresh strips of muslin and wrapped them around the wound, as careful as if binding a bird's wing.

"What happened to your hands?" London asked.

He glanced down to see the red, angry indentations his fingers had left in his palms. "I didn't like that."

A small smile tilted her mouth. "I didn't, either. But it's done now." Her smile faded, leaving behind quiet determination and acceptance. "The link has been severed."

Bennett tipped her chin up. His eyes were brilliant gems, shifting from aquamarine to darkest sapphire, as he took her in, caressing her face with his gaze. The clean angles of his jaw, brow, and nose, the sensuous perfection of his mouth, now uncharacteristically serious. Lord, he was a beautiful man. All the more so because he was bruised and b.l.o.o.d.y, a warrior as much as a scoundrel.

She had seen him climb and fight and defend her, almost to the death. He flew, literally flew. And now he looked at her with such heat and soul, she felt the last slivers of ice around her heart turn to mist.

"I love you," he said, solemn.

She was so battered inside, she couldn't hide her wince. She hadn't the strength right now to protect her heart. "I know."

He shook his head, looking fierce and intent. "I love you." "I love you."

"I know," she repeated. "You've said so." She might truly cry now, to think of what she felt for him, how it could not be reciprocated. Must she eventually lose everything?

Bennett squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if frustrated. "d.a.m.n, this is what I get for talking too much." He opened his eyes. "Monkeys in hats," he said.

She blinked at him, uncomprehending. "Did you hit your head?"

"Monkeys in hats," he said again, with growing heat. "That's what I mean when I say, 'I love you.' I mean that you're the woman I need beside me, all day, every day. I mean that I can't imagine my life without you. I mean that when you hurt, it feels like a knife in me, cutting me from the inside out." He paced in the tiny cabin, ricocheting back and forth like a bullet. "I mean that I hate the idea of anyone but me touching you. Just the thought makes me want to kill. I mean that I hate the idea of me touching anyone but you. I mean that when I see a G.o.dd.a.m.n monkey wearing a G.o.dd.a.m.n hat, I want to tell you you about it. about it. You You and no one else." and no one else."

She remembered what she had said to him the first night they had made love. Her palms grew damp, her mouth dry, the pain of her cut arm forgotten.

"You mean," she breathed, "you're in love in love with me?" with me?"

"I don't care what words anyone uses," he growled, stopping his pacing to stand in front of her. "Use the words of all the languages you know. Or make some up. Doesn't matter. What matters is that I want to be with you forever. Only you. And I hope to G.o.d," he said, his voice rough as he stroked her hair, her face, "that you only want me." There was no glib charm now, only the raw truth of his heart, laid bare before her.

He was was shaking. She felt that as he touched her. And she trembled, too. Surely he felt that. shaking. She felt that as he touched her. And she trembled, too. Surely he felt that.

She was long past being safe or smart or protective, yet she felt compelled to ask, "Are you certain? You might grow tired of me, you know, long before forever comes."

"I've lived with myself for thirty-two years," he rumbled. "I know what the h.e.l.l I'm talking about. I love you I love you, d.a.m.n it."

He was breathing hard now, his cheeks flushed, jaw tight. She'd never seen him so impa.s.sioned, so serious. He was still a scoundrel, but he was so much more, now.

When she at last found her voice, she said, "I monkeys in hats you, too."

Chapter 17.

The Daughters of the Sea At the very least, the stars should shift in the sky, the poles reverse or maybe something as minor as tigers learning to fly. Bennett, who had never once believed himself capable of giving his heart and body utterly and without regret to one woman, truly thought any of these miracles should have transpired the minute he confessed his love to London. Perhaps a second sun should burst to life in the sky when London, incredibly, admitted her own love for him.

Or, if none of those natural phenomena were to happen, then time itself should stop, completely suspended, leaving Bennett and London to spend days, weeks, months, and years exploring each other, discovering everything about each other, bodies and minds. Nothing else but that, an enchanted bubble surrounding them.

But the world, he learned, didn't stop because his life had been completely and wonderfully upended. He loved London, she loved him, and the d.a.m.ned Heirs were still out there. Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds' greedy claws sought dangerous magic. They would rip down or kill anyone who stood in their way. Not only that, but while Joseph Edgeworth was still alive, London's own life was in danger.

No rest, then. No enchanted bubble of lovemaking and revelations. Not yet.

There would be, by G.o.d. As Bennett and London gathered with Kallas and Athena on deck, Bennett swore to himself that he'd see this mission through to the end. He would ensure London's safety, carve a secret place out of glaciers or granite mountains for himself and her. He always took his duty to the Blades seriously. Now, his motivations were multiplied a hundredfold. Find the Source. Protect London. Love her. These demands were branded onto his heart, now and forevermore.

Late afternoon and the sky was aflame with blue, the sea burnished copper. The quartet of colleagues and friends ma.s.sed around the wheel. Bennett had always liked being at sail, but now this caique had become a home to him, the people on it bound together with their own kinship. The Heirs wouldn't harm them. He refused to let that happen. The alternative-no, he wouldn't even consider it.

"We've got to find the Black Temple the Colossus spoke about," he said.

"But not even the Colossus knew where to find it," London noted, standing beside him. She was unaware that she played with his fingers, unconsciously stroking and fondling each with her own slender fingers, and consequently, a goodly portion of Bennett's thinking capacity settled warmly in his groin. But her touch felt too d.a.m.ned good to make her stop.

"If there ever was a written record of such a place," said Athena, "it is either lost or buried beneath centuries."

"Sailor lore holds nothing," muttered Kallas. "And I've heard everything. It could take a lifetime to find the d.a.m.n place."

Bennett growled. "We don't have a lifetime." Even with the Bloodseeker Spell broken, the Heirs would find some way to track them. The faster the Eye of the Colossus was found and secured, the better for everyone.

London frowned in thought. "If not a sailor, who then knows the sea?"

"Someone who makes it their home," Athena answered.

"Fish," Bennett said, only half in jest.

Grinning with sudden understanding, Kallas whipped off his cap and slapped it on his thigh. "Yes."

Athena raised her brow. "You cannot mean to ask the fish about the Black Temple."

"Fish?" Kallas scoffed. "No, that'd be ridiculous-no offense, Day," he added.

Bennett shrugged, affable. "No man has ever called me ridiculous. Son of a b.i.t.c.h, sometimes. b.a.s.t.a.r.d, usually. But not ridiculous."

London b.u.mped her shoulder against his arm. "And what do women call you?"

"I can't remember anyone before you."

The witch hadn't the patience to listen to Bennett and London's affectionate banter, perhaps because she always argued with the object of her own grudging interest. "Not the fish," she muttered. "Who, then?"

"You're a mainlander," Kallas said, smiling with white, straight teeth around the stem of his pipe. "But now it's time for you to learn respect for the sea."

The sails were lowered as the captain gathered an a.s.semblage of things from the quarterdeck house and cargo hold. A bottle of wine. A jar of honey. Another jar, this one filled with olives.

"All gifts from the earth," Kallas said, setting them by the rail. "They want these delicacies, having nothing like them of their own."

"Who is 'they'?" Athena demanded.

The captain only gave the witch an enigmatic look, making her throw up her hands in frustration. Bennett hid his smile, but London saw, her own lips twitching in response. If Kallas and Athena ever made it over the hurdle of their pride and into bed, there wouldn't be enough water in the world to douse the resultant flames.

"Don't think you're the only one who knows a bit of magic," Kallas chided. "When sailors find themselves in trouble, they have an ally. Fifty, actually," he amended. "But they might not all show. Depends on their whims."

Athena, determined not to give Kallas any further response, merely folded her arms over her chest, clamping her mouth shut sullenly. Bennett bit the inside of his cheek. She was a far different creature than she had been when setting off from Piraeus weeks ago. Even her immaculate coiffures were long gone, and now her hair streamed wild about her shoulders. Bennett wondered if Athena the Greater would either congratulate Bennett for the changes wrought in her daughter, or daily send an eagle to tear out his liver, another Prometheus.

While Kallas finished setting up his collection of foodstuffs, Bennett's gaze was drawn to London, as it often did. He couldn't help it. She captured his every thought, ensnared him without effort, and he didn't mind in the least. Every time he saw her, that radiant happiness unfurled inside him like a standard, snapping and bright in the sunshine. This was so far beyond what he'd ever felt for any other woman, he at last understood what London meant in the difference between his old definitions of love and this one.

As Kallas made one more trip down to the cargo, London finished dousing the sails and glided toward Bennett. She had changed into one of Athena's skirts, and the fabric molded itself to her slim legs as the wind blew over the deck. Bennett couldn't decide if he liked her better in trousers or skirts. Each held their own appeal. She saw the admiration in his gaze, and her own heated in response. Combustible.

"Now, we are ready," said Kallas, appearing with a handful of grape leaves. He stood at the rail, holding his bounty of land-grown treasure.

"Do we need to do anything?" London asked.

"Only to keep your respect of the sea," the captain answered.

Everyone nodded in agreement, even Athena. Satisfied, Kallas turned to the water and began to sing.

It was a plain tune, the kind sung by sailors over countless generations as they mended nets or kept themselves company on long voyages. Simple, but not crude, only pared down to the sounds of a man's voice over the waves. Bennett didn't recognize the dialect, however, and could only listen to the rise and fall of Kallas's song as it moved in undulations like the sea.

As he sang, Kallas methodically emptied the bottle of wine into the water, the dark liquid spraying over the waves. The image reminded Bennett a bit too much of London shedding her blood, and he forced his breath to calm. Next, Kallas poured golden threads of honey into the water, followed by handfuls of olives. He then tossed the grape leaves across the water, the strong breeze catching them and sending them wheeling over the waves like green birds.

Then, faint at first and then with growing strength, the song was returned. Sweet female voices answered, and Bennett could have sworn they came from underneath underneath the water. The voices were liquid, resonant with the sounds of coral reefs and hidden palaces. His body hummed with the presence of nearby magic. the water. The voices were liquid, resonant with the sounds of coral reefs and hidden palaces. His body hummed with the presence of nearby magic.

"There!" London exclaimed, pointing to the water.

Kallas cursed faintly in surprise. "I didn't think it would work."

Dorsal fins broke the surface, carving the cobalt water clean and silver. They skimmed alongside the caique. Bennett heard a chirp, followed by another, and another. An inhuman laughter. Dolphins. Ma.s.sing in playful pods, their backs slick and gray, they danced around the boat.

Peering closer, Bennett thought at first his sight was faulty. Hands grasped the dolphins' dorsal fins. Women's hands.

The dolphins, circling, rose higher in the water. Waves parted around them. The pale arms of women emerged from the sea, then their heads and shoulders. Long hair, adorned with coral beads and polished sh.e.l.ls, flowed behind them. The women's eyes were a fathomless green, the color of deepest grottoes. None of them wore a sc.r.a.p of clothing, except ropes of pearls loosely draped over their luminous bodies. The maidens sang in their liquid voices as the dolphins whistled in chorus. Bennett caught his breath to hear it.

The presence of immortal beauty stirred anyone, men especially. But Bennett did not feel his blood heat with desire to see the perfect bodies and lovely faces of the sea maidens, only the wonderment that such perfection could exist in an imperfect world.

London stared at the maidens, almost as enraptured as Bennett, joy at their presence flushing her cheeks. He forgot to mention to her that magical beings were not always monstrous, like the rakshasa rakshasa demon. Now she had proof that magic had many faces, and he was glad to share it with her. demon. Now she had proof that magic had many faces, and he was glad to share it with her.

When the song faded, one of the nymphs called to Kallas in cla.s.sical Greek, "My sisters and I are pleased by your offerings, sailor. You show proper reverence for us and our home."

"Your home is mine," Kallas answered, also in cla.s.sical Greek. "My father and his father and all the men of my line owe our lives to you, Nereids. No tribute is ever enough."

Bennett had never heard the captain speak so formally or with such eloquence. It seemed Kallas could draw upon the art when pressed. Bennett snuck a glance at Athena and saw her regarding the captain with a newfound appreciation.

All of the maidens smiled at the captain's deferential words. "We shall grant you a boon, in kind," another trilled. "Ask it of us."

"Your munificence humbles me." Kallas bowed, one hand pressed to his chest. "If I may make a request, your guidance would be a great bounty. We seek a place that cannot be found. Yet we know that, of all the beings in the sea, the daughters of Nereus, truthful, compa.s.sionate, and gentle sea-G.o.d, possess a knowledge of the waters that surpa.s.ses all others."

This gratified the Nereids. Regally, but with a bit of preening, the first one said, "This is true. There is nothing in these waters that we do not know. What place do you seek?"

"The Black Temple."

The jeweled eyes of the Nereids widened. They chattered to each other in an unknown tongue.

One of the maidens said, regret dampening the bell of her voice, "That is a secret we keep for ourselves."

"But it is very very important that we find it," London said, stepping forward. important that we find it," London said, stepping forward.

The Nereids regarded London coolly. "Which does not concern us," one replied, haughty.

Seeking to add her persuasive voice to the discussion, Athena coaxed, "The fate of the world's magic rests in the balance."

This impressed the Nereids even less than London's plea. The sea maidens grew noticeably more aloof, pursing their sh.e.l.l-pink lips in disapproval. What could make them so unresponsive, when moments earlier, they smiled indulgently at Kallas.

At Kallas, not London or Athena.

Bennett leaned down and whispered into London's ear. "Sorry."

"For what?" she asked, a small frown appearing between her brows.

He pressed a quick kiss to the side of her neck. "This." Bennett went to stand beside Kallas. "Afternoon, ladies," he said to the Nereids. He gave the sea maidens what Catullus Graves called Bennett's "damp-drawers smile." The Nereids weren't wearing drawers, but he hoped the effect was much the same.

"You are not a sailor," a Nereid with earrings of branched coral said, but her voice was more breathless.

"Alas, no," Bennett answered. "But I've been taught well the ways of the sea by my friend, Nikos Kallas." He clapped a brotherly hand on Kallas's shoulder. "Truly, if my work did not take me far on to land, I'd never leave the sea's breast."

Almost all the Nereids blushed to hear Bennett say the word "breast," regardless of the fact that none of them wore a st.i.tch and their own bosoms were entirely bare.

"It would be a pity to lose you to the land," said the first Nereid. "The sea always needs good men."

"Surely you've no shortage of able-bodied seamen," Bennett answered.

Some of the sea maidens giggled, the sound like chimes. Bennett cast a quick look over his shoulder, and saw London scowling. Athena, too, appeared irritated. He shrugged, man's ancient sign of, "What can you do?" London made a shooing gesture with one hand, telling him to just get on with it.

"I am sorry that you cannot help us," Bennett said, turning back to the Nereids. "As my friends have pointed out, it's rather urgent we find the Black Temple."

"Such a place is kept hidden from the eyes of man," a Nereid with a diadem of sh.e.l.ls said. "It is for the good of everyone."

"Very true," replied Bennett. "Most men are greedy and thoughtless children."

"Are you you?" asked the Nereid with the coral earrings.