Triple Moon Read online

  “So, Alberich wants to take over the world?”

  “What he really wants is to use the ring to subjugate and punish the maidens who have humiliated him. And if the world gets in the way, then, sure, he’ll take it over and destroy as much as he has to. That’s the way he rolls.”

  Molly grew quiet, thoughtful. In his geeky enthusiasm for an opera based on what he assumed was myth, Marshall night have unwittingly guided her to a clue about that fateful night in April. Someone had been wielding unnatural power over events. Someone who hated women had been threatening Molly and Mardi. She sensed that the threat had something to do with the ring. It was clear now that the ring had powers she and her twin had not fathomed. Had it fallen into the wrong hands?

  She couldn’t, of course, mention any of this to Marshall, but she could express her gratitude to him for giving her some insight into her nightmare. He may have just gotten her closer to the moment when she could finally wake up and live her life again. Gratitude was not a familiar emotion for Molly. She tried to imagine what would make him happy.

  It wasn’t very hard. She took his chin in the palm of her hand and lifted his sweet face to hers. Then she kissed him.

  He reeled backward, so amazed at his luck that he had no idea how to react.

  “Marshall, you’re the best. If you were a cheese, you’d be the Brillat-Savarin!”

  “The cheese of the gods?” He laughed, blushing to the roots of his sandy hair.

  “Exactly.”

  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.”

  26

  LOVE ME TWO TIMES

  The North Inn, like the neighborhood dive it was, often smelled like spilled beer, but because it had a witch for a bartender, it also smelled like the fresh herbs and fruit juices that went into Freya’s potent cocktails. The wooden booths were beaten up and carved with countless sets of initials and messages that had completely lost their meaning over the years. It shook to the rhythm of rock and roll, beating time with the slap of glasses and dollar bills on the counter. Even Molly, through her crinkled little snub nose, was able, on some level, to appreciate its undying energy.

  Freya was known for her ability to cure heartbreak, for dispensing magic that kept many relationships alive. Somehow, the people of North Hampton never noticed that she did not grow old alongside them, but stayed timelessly gorgeous with her lush mane of hair, tiny waist, and breathtaking cleavage.

  When Molly came in on a hot Friday evening, having just kissed poor Marshall and left him beaming and wordless, the North Inn was heaving. It was karaoke night, and even though it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet, the microphone was starting to get some play. A mousy young woman, whom Molly recognized as one of Ingrid’s fellow librarians, was crooning Beyoncé’s “Halo” to her boyish, smooth-chinned fisherman boyfriend, who, Molly noticed, was still wearing his waders. Beaming up at his librarian, Fishboy sipped a pink cocktail from a wide-rimmed glass. Whenever there was a musical interlude that gave her a break from singing, he passed the glass to her.

  “Want an Infatuation like that happy couple?” asked Freya, leaning over the bar toward Molly.

  “What is it?”

  “Hibiscus, rosewater, and English gin. Or maybe you’d care for a Forever, like the mayor and his husband?”

  Molly looked over at two trim men in their early forties, dressed in striped button-downs. While they waited for their turn, they looked intently through the karaoke songbook, discussing the possibilities with much animation.

  “Is it good?”

  “Champagne fortified with fresh daisy petals is always good.”

  Molly smiled at Freya’s ingenuity. Having taken the only available stool at the bar, she was surrounded on all sides by locals. From working in the shop, she recognized many faces. But she realized now that she knew no one beyond smiling distance. For a second, she felt sad that she had made almost no inroads in North Hampton. In just over a month, apart from having won over and then broken two hearts, she would leave the East End without a trace . . . Although maybe she would come back next summer? She was taken aback by the thought. Was this tacky, disorienting place actually growing on her?

  “So what’ll it be?” asked Freya.

  “Do you have a drink called Clarity? I’m so confused right now.”

  “Let me guess.” Freya smiled, reaching for an unlabeled bottle of honey-colored liquor. “Too many men in your orbit?”

  “Not exactly,” Molly began to fidget with her beaded clutch. “I’m used to having a lot of boys circling around. But this time, I sort of like two guys at the same time. Like, I’m being pulled in two directions. I don’t know how to choose.”

  “Who says you have to choose?” Winking, Freya poured a shot of the golden liquid from her mystery bottle into a shaker and added some sort of green cordial.

  “I don’t know why I have to choose, but it feels like I do.”

  “It sounds to me like you don’t need to ask that question because the answer is already blazing inside you.” Freya laughed kindly. “Molly, you seem like you could handle it all.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’ve been there. I thought I had to choose between two guys, and it almost destroyed me.” Freya paused to muddle some blackberries with several kinds of herbs that she snipped from bunches in tall glasses on their own dedicated shelf behind the bar. When she was satisfied with her mixture, she added it to the shaker.

  “So what did you do?”

  Freya smiled mysteriously as she gave her cocktail a couple of hard shakes, then poured the glistening concoction into a rocks glass over ice and handed it to Molly. “I’m still working it out. Things are always evolving between the three of us. We’ll see what happens.” She winked. “I like to live in the moment. So should you.”

  Molly raised her glass in Freya’s direction and took a sip of her cocktail. She had no idea what it was. There were traces of fruit along with vaguely medicinal notes and a deep, rolling, satisfying flavor whose name was just outside her grasp.

  “This is awesome,” she said, “better than anything I’ve tasted in any pretentious mixology place in the city. What is it?”

  “It’s called Embrace. But it’s not a regular menu item. I just invented it for you. And you, Molly, are the only person I will ever mix it for.”

  “I’m flattered. What’s in it?”

  “If I tell you, it will lose its potency. I have to watch my secrets around fellow witches,” Freya teased.

  “What do you mean, potency? What’s it going to do to me?” Molly was intrigued. After one swallow, she was already starting to picture kissing Tris and Marshall at the same time. She felt her face flush, just thinking about it.

  Molly drained her glass and pulled Freya out from behind the bar toward the karaoke machine. Too impatient to bother with flipping through the index of the songbook, she muttered a little incantation causing it to open to the page she wanted. r />
  Freya threw an arm around Molly. “Now, this is my kind of music! I love the Doors!”

  “So does Daddy,” Molly yelled over the intro, grooving to the fact that she and Freya were both wearing short, fitted white dresses. Freya’s was flared and retro, while Molly’s was a slinky number from the latest designer collection. Yet despite the differences, they both wore their dresses so well that it looked like they could have planned their outfits specifically for their star turn at the North Inn.

  As they launched into the song, the entire bar fell under their spell. Conversations came to abrupt ends. Drinks sat untouched. At first, everyone appeared to be in a trance. Then Freya moved her hands in a come-hither gesture that got people singing along, one by one, until the whole Friday-night crowd was belting out Jim Morrison’s lyrics.

  Molly had never done anything this fun and silly. North Hampton was beginning to grow on her, lyric by lyric.

  But just as effortlessly as she had drawn them into the song, Molly silenced everyone with a simple finger to her lips. Not a soul could disobey her. The room went silent except for the two gorgeous white-clad witches finishing out their anthem.

  There was rapturous applause, whistling, and many rounds of drinks were offered and bought. But Molly couldn’t manage to take another sip. She felt the effects of Freya’s cocktail growing stronger and stronger, and was soon barely able to fend off the random guys who wanted to do shots with her. The room was starting to spin.

  “Are you okay?” Freya asked as she busily attended to the rush their song had created behind the bar.

  “Not really,” Molly admitted. “I’m not usually such a lightweight. But I think I might get sick.”

  “I’m so sorry, sweetie. My potions can be pretty strong. Why don’t you go outside and get some fresh air? I’ll be out in a few. And don’t you dare get on your bike. I’ll call you a cab.”