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“Okay,” I sighed. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” Just as I took the first step upward toward the roof of the loft, I hesitated, looking back at Milo, who had sat down wearily on his bed. “Is everything okay?”
He nodded before lying down to close his eyes, but it wasn’t convincing for me. “Shipshape.”
As I walked upstairs, I clutched the railing. I suddenly realized I didn’t want to watch the fireworks. But I knew that even though I wanted to close my eyes and forget about everything for a while, there was no way I could sleep right now. Though I didn’t want to let Milo know it, I was terrified of what Cordelia wanted with me.
4
An Ill Wind That Blows No Good
Katrina
Ican’t wait to see you!
I read the text from McKenzie with tired eyes as I fought with my unruly hair in a sad attempt to secure it with Bobby pins. If she were here, this would’ve been so much easier. She would’ve had my hair in the perfect, elegant updo in no time. But left to my own devices, I wasn’t capable of creating quite the same masterpiece. But it would have to do. I wanted to look my best when I met with Cordelia this evening. I needed her to take me seriously.
Milo stepped into the dorm behind me, reminding me of the night he appeared at the gala, in his slacks and suit jacket, and his dark gold locks tucked back within a secure tie.
“You look handsome,” I said with a smirk. “Think we look like we belong at an elite ocean club dinner?” I ran my gaze up and down my reflection, standing in my teal blue cocktail dress, wishing I still had the mermaid scale around my neck to add a dash of sparkle.
“I hope so because this is the most polished I’ll ever look.” Milo’s mouth curved into a small smile. Despite his attempt at humor, I’d noticed his dampened energy and his shortness of words lately. Something about him seemed off ever since our conversation about the hidden letter two nights ago, but he relentlessly swore he was fine.
“Well, it’s 6:30,” I pointed out. “We’d better get to the resort.”
“Agreed.” Milo nodded, and together we made our way to my Jeep. The Cherokee was still running strong as ever, even if I never could manage to keep the sand-filled floorboards clean. I’d accepted it now as just a normal part of Florida life.
The resort club wasn’t far, just on the border of Constantine and St. Augustine, and a chill ran through me just like it did every time I came here looking for Cordelia. To think that all this time, she was just a mere handful of miles away, made me wiggle with unease like a worm on a hook.
Clutching the invitation in my hand as though my life depended on it, I stepped out of my vehicle as Milo held the door for me. We walked down the ramp to the entrance together, my heels clomping on the narrow wooden boardwalk that led straight into the vicinity of the enormous white beachside building. I read the large sign carved in stone on the front gate entrance where the boardwalk ended, and the walkway became a pristine sidewalk leading to the doorway of a grand two-story resort and marina. Yachts of luxurious sizes lined the borders of the building around the back, bobbing calmly in the water of the Matanzas inlet.
Tesoro Del Mar. Treasure of the Sea.
This gate that was normally closed and required me to identify myself when I’d come looking here was now wide open, hosting a pathway leading to the front door of the marina resort. Strangely enough, I didn’t see any other guests arriving. The parking lot had only been a few cars shy of being empty.
Milo squeezed my arm and I glanced at him with tightened brows. The churning in my chest wasn’t stilling, but I was so desperate to finally meet this woman who had plagued both sea and land for centuries. I had written down the names of all my ancestors who’d fallen to her curse. I hoped they’d help me remember why I had to confront her.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Milo said, his bicep tensing against my arm that was hooked through his.
“Where is everyone? It’s six-fifty. We’re not exactly early. Maybe I read the invitation wrong?”
“No, you read it correctly. Your reservation is at seven, not six-fifty.” A withered voice startled both of us.
A man who looked to be in his sixties appeared from behind us, dressed in a tailored light gray suit. His thinning silver hair and wire glasses hooked over his wide nose made him look wise, but he spoke with sharpness.
“Ms. Black will be here in a few minutes. And she requested your presence. Not his.” He turned to glance at Milo with narrowed eyes.
“Ms. Black?” I repeated, ignoring everything after that.
“Yes.” the man nodded. “The owner. Dahlia Black.”
“But she—“
“Do you want to meet her or not?” He asked before I could finish.
“Yes...” I calmed myself and ensured it showed in my voice. “Yes. I want to meet her.”
“Then wait here.” The man replied in one short breath. “Alone.”
With a worried glance, my eyes found Milo’s and he pressed his lips together with concern as the man turned to walk away.
