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I palmed the switchblade and took another shower, washing my hair even though it didn’t really need it so I could hide the blade in the shampoo bottle. When I emerged from the bathroom, I found breakfast waiting for me in the living room. I carried the tray into the garden, and after two cups of coffee and an egg sandwich, felt marginally less sluggish.
I toyed with a croissant, ripping off pieces without eating them.
Now that I had a weapon, it was up to me to get Brien alone, preferably outside the castle so I could escape and stow away on the ferry. My stomach curled in on itself. The thought of staking Brien made me physically ill, but what choice did I have?
If only I could get a message to my halmoni. She was resourceful, and she still had friends in SI.
I put down the mangled croissant and, leaving the tray on the coffee table, headed upstairs for a walk. As I left the castle, Jasper was waiting in the courtyard. I nodded at him and kept going, but when I glanced back, he was ten yards behind me.
So Brien didn’t trust me. Smart man.
I spent a half hour sunning myself on the beach and trying not to think. When I climbed back up the cliff, Lesa was coming down the path, a funky scarf wrapped around her brown curls.
“Hey, Twilight,” she said with a smile.
“Hey.”
She started to walk past, then stopped and swung back. “I’m on my way to Bluebeard’s Cove to visit my mom. Wanna come?”
“I’d love to.”
“It’s on the other side of the island, but I’ll show you the shortcut.”
The shortcut was a dirt path through the forest. As trees closed around us, cool and green, I glanced at Lesa. “Bluebeard’s Cove?”
Her left cheek creased in amusement. “Half the island’s descended from pirates.”
“Pirates? You’re shitting me.”
She put a hand over her heart. “It’s true, I swear.”
I chuckled and shook my head.
Lesa grinned. “You don’t wanna mess with a Lilith Islander.”
“I’ll remember that.”
The hike to Bluebeard’s Cove took about fifteen minutes. We descended through the trees, coming out on a low cliff. The town was spread out before us, postcard-perfect: colorful clapboard houses, neat green lawns, a pair of slate-topped churches. In the harbor, brightly painted boats bobbed, protected by moss-covered cliffs that hugged the cove like a pair of arms.
“Wow,” I said.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it? And it’s all for us. No outsiders allowed without the syndicate’s approval.”
To get to the town, we had to walk down the winding stone steps cut into the cliff. As we reached the bottom, I noted the location of the ferry terminal at the end of a pier.
Lesa followed my gaze. “The ferry’s free,” she told me, “a service provided by the syndicate.”
I considered the sleek blue boat. “How fast does it get you to the mainland?”
“To Halifax? About two hours.”
“Has this island always belonged to the Maritime Syndicate?”
“Yeah. Primus Leclerc bought it from a pirate—or stole it,” she added, her dark eyes twinkling. “The story’s a little unclear on that point.”
“And the humans stayed?”
“The primus offered steady jobs and a chance to turn all that pirate gold into businesses they could pass down to their children. An early form of money laundering. My great-great-whatevers took the deal, like a lot of other islanders.”
