Was there, perhaps, more than one way to look at this situation? Molly could, of course, decide that Trystan Gardiner was an arrogant bastard who didn’t deserve a moment of her attention. But, following her own logic earlier about how lame this town was, she could make the case that an invitation to Fair Haven was as good as it got. He was offering her a private tour of his mansion, without any of the hangers-on who had been clamoring to check out the latest renovation at the big party last week. He was letting her in on an exclusive basis. As his date. Considered in this light, his invitation grew quite appealing. Besides, she was lonely. She wasn’t used to going this long without male attention. And Cheeseboy didn’t count.
Slowly, Molly turned around. Instead of going home, she steered her red bicycle toward the bridge to Gardiners Island.
Summoned, indeed.
13
MEMORY MOTEL
Mardi hadn’t even kissed him yet. She and Trent had come close a couple of times on the Dragon, within fractions of an inch, but their lips had never touched.
He had given her keys to the Dragon’s cabin so that she could shower at the end of the day or grab a drink during a break from her hard physical work. Often she would bump into him on his deck or on the docks, where he was helping a friend renovate a clam shack into a farm-to-table restaurant. They always had charged exchanges. And, without being pushy, Trent made it quite clear with his body language that he would be open to more than just talking. But he hadn’t made a move.
Usually, Mardi hated nothing more than to feel pressured, so she was grateful for Trent’s restraint, but she was growing frustrated too. She was going to have to make the first move. Again. When she actually liked someone, she always did. Probably because she was so intimidating with her tongue stud and her tattoo that boys didn’t want to blow it. But she could tell Trent wasn’t cowed by her. She hadn’t been this intrigued by a boy in a long, long time.
She had been beside Trent most of the day, unloading lumber for the new restaurant, and her body was aching for him. Wasn’t it time now to give him the signal to pull her into his arms and down into the Dragon? It wouldn’t take much.
He was only an inch away, sitting beside her on the dock, dangling his bare feet next to hers. There was a now-familiar hint of salt on his skin catching the late-afternoon light. In order not to stare at him, she looked out to sea.
“Do you have any plans tonight, Mardi?” His voice was insistently sexy, yet gentle.
There. He’d made his move.
But all of a sudden she was terrified.
She turned to face him and immediately felt herself swimming in the beauty of his bottomless blue eyes. She could drown in them. Lose herself.
It was tempting. Too tempting. She was able to hold his gaze for only a few seconds before she had to look away again. It was as though she were being sucked into a riptide. She had to protect herself from her own attraction. “Thanks, Trent, but I have a date with Freya at the North Inn.”
As soon as she said it, she felt a sting of regret. Along with a huge sense of relief. She liked this guy too much to get close.
“That’s cool.” He sighed, crinkling those gorgeous eyes into the sunset. “Well, maybe some other time.”
“Yeah, some other time.”
Now that she had pushed him away, Mardi was able to look at Trent again and take in the full picture of what she was denying herself: the broad shoulders and ropy arms, the strong hands, the high cheekbones and full lips, and the deep eyes sparkling now with something like sadness. What was wrong with her?
“You’ll like the North Inn,” he said. “It’s a cool place, and Freya really lights it up. Maybe we can go together sometime soon?”
“Sure. Maybe.”
He flashed a smile. “I’m going to go out on a limb and take that as a yes, Mardi Overbrook.”
“Maybe it is.”
As Mardi left him behind on the dock, she felt her body being pulled back in his direction with a magnetic force. It was all she could do to rip herself away and run to her car. Man, did she need a strong drink to distract her right now.
• • •
Freya had more than once hinted at the possibility of tequila shots. And she’d said she thought Mardi would dig the rock-’n’-roll vibe of the North Inn. Too bad Mardi wasn’t wearing something with more of a ’70s feel tonight. Her black denim cutoffs and vintage Black Sabbath T-shirt were pretty basic, but she was going to give the place a try. Freya would be happy to see her. And Freya would probably also have some advice for her on how to loosen up around Trent.
As she was figuring out which way to turn to get to the North Inn, Mardi’s headlights suddenly illuminated a red bicycle pedaled by none other than her sister. Who else but Molly would be riding a bike through a beach town in four-inch stilettos?
Mardi pulled the convertible over and waited for Molly to ride up to her.
“Where are you going in those shoes?” Mardi asked.
Ignoring the question, Molly asked, “Where are you going?” She appeared flushed and distracted.
“To check out Freya’s bar. Wanna come?”
“Thanks, but I’m on my way to Fair Haven.”
“What for?” Mardi’s curiosity was instantly piqued.
Molly answered with nothing but a smug smile.
“Well, if you’re going all the way to Gardiners Island, you really should have a light on your bike.” Ever since the session with Jean-Baptiste, Mardi had been feeling protective of her twin.
“Don’t worry.” Molly laughed. “I have reflectors on my tires, and, more importantly, I’ve put up a repellent shield against drunk-driving lowlifes as well as blind old ladies who shouldn’t be allowed behind the wheel. So don’t sweat it, sis. I’m not going to end up as a splotch on the road tonight.”
“You should still be careful . . . You can’t tell me who you are going to see at Fair Haven?”
“I can. But I won’t.”
With that, Molly pedaled off into the night.
• • •
Mardi gritted her teeth all the way to the North Inn. Why did her sister have to act like such a brat at a time when they should be sticking together? It was so frustrating that they couldn’t get along right now. The friction was even stronger than usual. A real curse.
And why was Molly being so secretive about Fair Haven? The only person of interest who had anything to do with Fair Haven was Trent. But Trent was never at the house, so it couldn’t possibly be Trent that Mardi was going to see, besides which, Trent would never look at Molly, and Molly would never look at Trent. So what the Hell was Mardi stressing about?
She parked the Ferrari in between a pickup truck and a Volvo in the North Inn parking lot. This was probably going to suck.
But once she was inside the bar, Mardi was pleasantly surprised. The jukebox was playing “Memory Motel” by the Rolling Stones, another of Dad’s favorites that she had unconsciously learned by heart.
Mardi wasn’t the only one familiar with the song. Half the patrons were singing along as they drank. There was even a couple slow-dancing. The place, which was totally unpretentious, its wooden booths carved with years’ worth of names and messages, managed to be mellow and relaxed while at the same time giving off a charged party vibe. It was as if the North Inn orbited its own interior sun. And that sun’s name was Freya.
Freya was warm, brilliant, and life-giving. Even when her customers weren’t looking directly at her, they were inspired by her presence. Mardi wasn’t the only one who was half in love with her. Freya was wonderfully steady, and yet she was always in motion, vibrantly shaking and mixing drinks, calling everyone by name, cranking the tunes.
This feeling of entering a private universe when she came into the bar was instantly familiar to Mardi from her endless nights and early mornings at after-hours clubs. Even if the people here were older and a th
ousand times less hip than her crowd back in the city, they formed a similar pocket of belonging.
“Mardi, great to see you!” Freya handed Mardi a drink right away. As soon as she tasted it, Mardi realized it was exactly what she wanted, mescal with pomegranate, jalapeño, and some other unidentifiable flavors that Mardi imagined came from herbs out of the greenhouse at Fair Haven, where she and Trent had shared their dinner. The memory felt distant already. How long exactly had she been in North Hampton? Time here was freaky.
“How did you know I would love this drink, Freya? Do you read minds?”
“I do where matters of the heart are concerned.”
“That must get pretty weird on occasion.”
“Mmm-hmm. It can be a little TMI sometimes.”
“Still, it must also be cool to see into people’s hearts.”
“You could see into people’s hearts too, Mardi, if you chose to focus. You have a seer’s gift. I sense it. If you quieted down, you could see everything I see.”
“Really, I feel like I can’t see anything right now. I feel like the blindest kid in town.” She took a long appreciative drink, licking the peppery rim of her glass to get the full intensity of its flavor. “What do you call this drink?”
“The Omnivore. I mixed it just for you. And I’ll never pour it for another.”
Mardi smiled. Freya was too awesome. “Freya, what do you think of Trent?”
“You mean Trent Gardiner?” Freya’s green eyes came into sharp focus.
“Yeah, the guy we were hanging with in the greenhouse at Fair Haven the other night.”
“What about him?” Freya asked. “He’s great. One of my favorite people. He’s basically like a brother to us. We sort of adopted him since he’s all alone this summer.”
“Cool.”
“Have you mentioned him to your sister yet?” Freya asked.
Mardi shrugged. “No. Why should I? She’s being such a pain lately.”
Freya looked as if she wanted to say something more but had decided against it.
14
KISS
As Molly rode across the bridge to Gardiners Island, her excitement was tinged with a slight foreboding. The house was not nearly as well lit as it had been the night of the party. Only two windows, one upstairs, one down, shone out into the night. The rest of the mansion appeared as a dark mass against a moonless sky. She could not help but recall Freya’s words about the place being built over a seam between this world and the Land of the Dead. She began to feel vulnerable on Ingrid’s bicycle, with black water on either side of her. Her protection spell would work against stupid human drivers, but would do nothing to save her from being swallowed up into the deep, were she to fall off the bridge and through some portal into a parallel world. Suddenly Daddy’s warnings about Limbo didn’t seem quite so frivolous. Maybe she should turn back?
Yet despite her fears, she was pulled toward the island, with its promise of Tris, as if by soul-attracting magnet. She had to go; she had to see him again.
Once she was safely across the water and looking for a spot on the grassy dunes to lay her bike, a light rose at her back, illuminating the sand in front of her in a large glittering circle. For a second, she felt like an escaped convict who had just been caught at the climax of a dramatic manhunt. But, after a beat, she decided she appeared more like a pop star in the limelight, with her killer heels and freshly applied lipstick. Or at least that’s how she should play it. After all, she wasn’t sneaking around. She had been invited here.
She turned to the source of the light beam to see Tris holding a brass lantern above his head in order to spotlight her to maximum effect.
“Molly.” His voice was deeply welcoming, an intimate stage whisper that carried across the dunes. “I’m so glad you came.”
“I was curious to see the house without all those random locals crowding around.”
“Fair enough.” He took a step toward her. He was wearing crisp white jeans and a white linen shirt with his TG monogram in gold thread, gleaming rich and subtle on the cuffs. His bare bronzed feet rested comfortably in the sand. He was every bit the young lord of that manor in casual attire.
“Anything else you’re curious about?” He smiled as he took her hand. “Aren’t you a vision,” he said as he took her waist and spun her so that the skirt of her white dress flared out into the night. “Come to the house. I’ll mix you a drink. I can already tell we have much to celebrate.”
This guy was too much. Yet Molly couldn’t call him on it, and she allowed herself to be guided up the misty path to Fair Haven.
• • •
Molly was not accustomed to being spellbound. She was supposed to be the spellbinder. This passive walking like a clueless bride being led to the altar was absurd. She had to get ahold of herself. However, she simply didn’t feel like taking her accustomed control of the situation. Not quite yet.
Tris brought her into a small, mahogany-paneled library that she had not seen on her first visit. One wall was composed of floor-to-ceiling shelves of leather-bound, gold-lettered volumes. Between the wood panels on the other walls was hand-painted wallpaper in a striking William Morris floral design. Molly recognized it from an internship she had done last spring with a world-class interior decorator. The internship had started out well, as Molly had “a good eye,” according to her employer, but ended abruptly when said employer asked Molly to pick up her dry cleaning one too many times and her boss arrived at a client meeting to find all her fabric samples in shreds, smelling distinctly of fried garlic.
“What are you smiling about?” Tris asked, ambling over to a gleaming bar cart.
“Just recalling a little prank I played a few months ago.”
“Oh, yeah? I like pranks.” He raised his eyebrows, so startlingly black over his bright blue eyes that she caught her breath. “Tell me about it,” he said.
“It’s not the sort of thing a girl like me is supposed to share.” Buried in her refusal was the hint of a question. She was testing this young warlock. She could tell he knew she was a witch. And she was pretty sure he was aware that she was onto him too. But she wasn’t going to be the first one to drop the façade.
“After one of my dirty martinis, you won’t be able to keep it from me. In fact, you won’t be able to keep anything from me.”
“Dirty martinis are so housewife,” she snorted.
“Is that so? Well, if you’re after something with lychees or muddled mangoes, you’ve come to the wrong establishment. No toothpick umbrellas at Fair Haven, I’m afraid.”
“I’m not even going to respond to that. I like my martinis without brine. Brine makes me think of mud. And I don’t want to drink mud. Do you have any St-Germain?”
“I think I can manage a little elderflower.”
“Good.” She watched with pleasure as he began to do her bidding. “So, what’re you doing in North Hampton?” she asked.
“I could ask you the same question.”
“But you won’t,” she retorted, unstrapping her delicate sandals and letting them fall to the floor as she folded her smooth legs underneath her on the soft leather seat of the armchair.
“Okay, I won’t. I pretty much do anything a beautiful girl tells me to do.” For the first time, Tris lost his cockiness, and she felt herself truly vulnerable to his charms. Trying to resist his flattery was like swimming against a current. She knew there was no point in tackling it head-on. When you are caught in rip, Mardi always told her, you want to go at an angle.
“I’m still waiting for my answer,” she deadpanned.
“Cheers first?” He handed her a golden martini and then raised his own “dirty” glass to hers. “Please, Molly Overbrook?” he asked, almost anxiously, as though he was worried she might disappear were he to say the wrong thing. “Drink with me?”
She had been prepared for the ar
rogance and the charm, but this vulnerability was potentially disarming. She wanted to give in, but she knew she shouldn’t.
“Okay. I’ll take one sip, if you’ll tell me what you’re really doing hiding here in East End instead of living out in the world,” she said.
“Deal.”
As they clinked glasses and drank deeply, he settled himself with feline grace on the arm of her chair, his toes grazing her bare thighs.
“I’m on Gardiners Island because I’m in a little bit of trouble, I’m afraid. I think you might know what I’m talking about. We’re the same, you and I.”
She nodded. “Are you being punished by the Council too?”
He bristled just perceptibly. “Not exactly punished. But I need to lie low for a while.”
Molly felt a thrill of recognition. She and Tris were prisoners of the same fate.
“Trystan Gardiner”—she locked eyes with him—“if this is an act, it’s awfully convincing.”
“Molly Overbrook, you are the most amazing and beautiful witch I’ve ever met. Not to mention one of the smartest. If this were an act, you would see right through it. Now, kiss me.”
Molly wanted to understand more of her newly revealed soul mate, but she also wanted to stop thinking and to simply succumb to his embrace. The evening’s riptide was suddenly taking her exactly where she wanted to go. Resistance was no longer necessary. She saw nothing but his deep blue eyes, his strong chin, and his muscular arms as he leaned in toward her and pressed his mouth against hers.
15
WILD HORSES
Back at the North Inn, Freya’s delicious, spicy cocktail gave Mardi a brief sense of belonging. She downed it fast and instantly craved another. But as she started in on the second one, the drink began to take its true effect, and she surged inside with a deep longing for Trent. She looked across the bar at Freya, who shot her a quick smile and a complicit wink as if to say, My mixology never fails to unveil my customers’ true desires. Now, go out and find that boy of yours.