She got up. “I’m going to make those calls, see if I can find out where he is and what he’s up to.”

“And we’ll deal with him, if and when,” Bran said when Riley walked off.

“Him, his mercenaries, and hired guns,” Doyle added with a glance at Annika.

As if she’d waited for a cue, she sprang up into a series of flips across the table, and ended braced on her hands with the heel of her left foot a bare inch from Doyle’s face.

He laughed, so quick, deep, appreciative, that Riley—from several feet away, glanced back in his direction.

“Okay, gorgeous. You know how to prove your point.”

“I can fight.” She did a fluid roll off the table to land lightly on her feet.

“I’m working on something for you. In fact, I should get back to it.” Now Bran rose. “But I need something from you first.”

“I have coins—and the . . . the scratch Riley gave me for some of them.”

“No, mo chroí.” He took a small vial from his pocket. “I need just three drops of your blood.”

“My . . .” She blanched a little.

“What I make for you needs to be of you. To hold what you are—your light, your heart, your strength.” Now he took out a small ritual knife he’d cleansed. “Just a tiny prick from your fingertip. Third finger of your left hand is best.”

Saying nothing, she held out her hand, reached out for Sawyer’s with the other.

With his eyes on hers, Bran used the tip of the knife, held her finger over the vial so three drops slid inside.

“There now.” As he might with a child, he kissed her fingertip. And the tiny wound healed.

“It didn’t hurt.”

“Because you’re very brave. And your courage is in your blood as well.”

“What will you make me?”

“A surprise.” Now he kissed her cheek, then turned, looked at Sasha. “I could use your help with it.”

She went with him.

“You don’t seem very concerned about this Malmon,” Sasha said.

“He’s a man, however dangerous.”

He walked into his room. As he slept in Sasha’s now, he’d arranged his as strictly a workspace. At the moment, his cauldron sat on a waist-high stone pedestal in the center of the room.

“Bran, it’s one thing to fight, even kill those things Nerezza sends at us. But human beings?”

Killers, he thought, but only nodded. “There are ways to defend, even attack, without spilling blood. I’m working on just that here for Annika.”

She looked in the cauldron, frowned at the amber liquid. “What is it?”

“That’s where I could use your help. I’ve nearly done the mix, but what I add, how I proceed depends on what shape it will take.”

“What will it do?”

“Deflect. Destroy, yes, what is conjured from the dark, as it will deflect with light.”

“A shield?”

“I’m considering.” He circled the cauldron as he spoke. “A small shield—she’s agile enough to learn to use it, move with it.”