25

I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE, PART TWO

After the feel-good granolafest, Mardi put on her black racing suit and silver goggles. Then she took off for a long swim in the bay. She needed it. She had a lot to process. As she pulled her body fluidly through the water, stretching her arms, rotating her core, kicking, awakening her every muscle, she was able to align her thoughts and questions.

How had Molly lost the ring? Why did she race off just now instead of talking about it? It was almost like she had an idea and had to act on it right away.

Mardi now knew from the memory sessions with Jean-Baptiste that the ring was way more than a keepsake from their mother, whoever she was. They had always assumed it was a benevolent, private symbol between them. But Mardi was sure now that it harbored powers, and that those powers could be terrifying.

With Mardi and Molly, the ring was safe. In the wrong hands, it was a mortal threat. Someone else had it now, and that someone was testing out its powers on this poor unsuspecting town, targeting its women most of all.

The weirdo in the pool had wanted their ring, seemingly to punish the twins. He hated them. But why? Granted, she and Molly were obnoxious, but they didn’t deserve the flames of Hell. Did he despise all women, or “bitches,” as he called them? Or was it personal?

Was he the stalker?

Although she swam and swam, Mardi came no closer to any answers.

She moved on to her next dilemma: Trent. Why had he ripped himself away from her yesterday, acting like he had important business that she couldn’t come along on, right after they had officially recognized each other? She hated being pushed aside. She had offered to have a drink with him, and instead of letting her in, he had pulled a typical lone-male-wolf act. If he hadn’t been a warlock himself, she would have turned him into a wolf cub for a few hours just to show him what an idiot he was being.

Could he have been racing off to meet her sister on Gardiners Island? That would qualify him as a psychopath, and she so didn’t want to go there. But every time she tried to figure out who else Molly could have been seeing in her Bedouin love den in the dunes, she came up blank. It was infuriating.

All this anger was causing her to swim so fast that she was out of breath. She forced herself to stop and float on her back for a couple of minutes to reassess. She felt a wave of appreciation for this beautiful sea and this quiet, leafy town, a town that seemed so sleepy and peaceful and yet was full of magic and mystery. She certainly couldn’t complain that her life was boring here. Even if it was stressful.

She tried to slow down and think more rationally about Trent. Assuming he wasn’t messing around with her sister, she should write Trent off for acting like such a jerk on the docks last night. But she didn’t want to, and not just because she was so attracted to him. There was more to it than that. There was something deep going on with him, but he wouldn’t share it with her. Did he think she was stupid? Immature? Selfish?

Mardi sighed across the glassy sea. Slowly, methodically, the bulk of her anger spent for the time being, she made her way back to shore and a shower before going down to Goose’s Landing to help with the cleanup.

She put on an old Black Flag cutoff T-shirt for the occasion, with frayed denim shorts and black Doc Martens. And she wore a spiky dog collar and black lipstick.

“Wow, Mardi,” said Freya, who had stopped by for a cup of coffee with Ingrid on her way to set up the bar. “Are you trying to look scary for anyone in particular? Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Not scary,” Mardi snapped. “Just totally unavailable.” And before either Freya or Ingrid could respond from behind the steam of her fresh-brewed latte, she was out the door.

She found Trent alone on the dock outside the restaurant, picking up their beer cans from the evening before. He was frowning, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

“Hey,” she said.

At the sound of her voice, he smiled instantly, but when he looked up and saw how severe she had made herself look, he seemed to remember how things stood, and his happy expression disappeared.

“Hey,” he finally managed. “I’m glad you showed up today. It’s gonna be a tough one. It’s a nightmare down in that cellar.”

“Yep.” She wasn’t going to give him an inch. “Should we get started?”

“We can’t go down there quite yet. We have to wait for the fire department to give us the go-ahead. They should be here in a few minutes. Want to go hang out on the Dragon until they come? I got this new sandwich press I want to try out. Do you like panini?”

“What is with you, man? Last night, you’re all doom and gloom, and you won’t even tell me what’s going through your head. And when I show up today, you want to talk about panini? I’m not going to pretend like nothing’s happening just because you don’t feel like dealing with it. Either tell me what went down last night or tell me you’re not going to tell me. But quit messing around.”

“I’m just trying to be friendly. I could tell I pissed you off last night, and I thought I’d see if I could lighten the mood.”

“Bad idea.”

“So I see.”

“I’ll come hang out on the Dragon, but I don’t want some stupid sandwich. I want answers.”

“Okay.” He looked straight at her. “I promise. Answers. No sandwich. Let’s go.”

They walked silently through the noonday sun to the boat and climbed aboard. She could see salt crystals dazzling in the soft hair on his arms. He must have taken a swim this morning too, but he hadn’t showered yet. He often worked through the day with the sheen of the ocean on his skin. This was one of the things she used to think she liked about him.

As soon as they climbed onto the deck of the boat, he went into the cabin and returned with his panini press on the end of an extension cord, along with a cutting board, a knife, some focaccia and ham, cheese, and basil.

“I don’t want there to be any more misunderstandings. I’m not offering you a panini,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m making one for myself. I’m starving.”

Looking at the food, smelling the basil and fresh bread, Molly realized that she was starving too. But there was no way she was going to admit it.

“I owe you an apology,” he continued.

“I don’t care about apologies. I want an explanation. I want to understand what’s happening.”

“I wish I knew. But what I can say for sure is that someone with unnatural powers is messing with this town. I don’t think it’s the White Council trying to show disapproval. I think it’s someone else, someone playing with a great power they can’t necessarily control. It’s an ancient power of some kind. I needed to talk to Jean-Baptiste last night, to see if he had any notion of what I should do.”

“You sure you weren’t at Fair Haven last night?” she hissed.

“What?” He looked genuinely confused.

“With a girl who looks identical to me, only more Fifth Avenue and less Williamsburg.”

“Are you talking about your sister, Molly?”

“That’s the only sister I have.”

“Mardi, I have no idea what you are talking about. Why would you think that? I was with Jean-Baptiste last night. And I swear he looks nothing like you. Although he is very Fifth Avenue. You gotta give him that.”

In spite of herself, she cracked a smile.

“Okay, so you were with Jean-Baptiste. And?”

“And there is something else, but the problem is that I can’t tell you any more or someone may get hurt. It’s not that I want to be secretive. I’m in a bind, Mardi. Please believe me. Haven’t you ever been in a bind before?”

“I guess so.” She found herself wanting to tell him about the blocked texts from someone claiming to have incriminating information about Molly and her, threatening her sister if she told . . . anyone. She realized she couldn’t even explain the cause of her suspicions without risking her twin’s life. She too was in a bind. “Yeah, I have a potential source of information too. Maybe. It’s either a real source or a totally sick joke. But there’s a threat if I reveal too much that someone might get hurt.”

“So, it seems like, for now, we can only tell each other without telling each other.”

“I guess that’s right,” she admitted, deeply grateful for the fact that he wasn’t pushing her to talk.

“Is that going to be okay with you, at least for now?” he asked, constructing a sandwich on two thin slices of golden bread.

“I guess it has to be.” She shrugged.

He nodded, closing the hot press so that the cheese began to sizzle. “You sure you don’t want one?”

“I might have changed my mind,” she admitted.

He lifted the perfectly grilled sandwich and handed it to her in a blue cloth napkin. “Here.” He smiled. “All yours. No strings attached and no questions asked.”