Stars of Fortune (The Guardians Trilogy 1)

“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?”

“Yeah, about.” He looked at Sasha now. “Bran said you were looking for a crossbow.”

“Yes. I was.”

“You were? You want to learn to shoot, Sash?”

“I’d like to try it.”

Obliging, Riley passed it off to Doyle, took the glasses and the book from Sasha.

“The draw’s going to be too much for you. I’ve got a cocking device.”

“I need to learn to draw it manually.” She took the bow, and turned it as they had, set her foot in the stirrup.