Evil by the Sea. Kathleen Bridge

      Chapter 5

      Later that night, Liz stepped onto her deck, drinking in the tangy salt air, wishing she had enough energy to work on her galleys for An American in Cornwall. She was a morning and early afternoon writer, saving the late afternoons and evenings for editing and reading her favorite authors. A tip one of her instructors passed on when Liz decided to become a novelist was to read everything she could, especially from the genre she’d planned on writing. However, she was too beat to think of reading a thing—hers or someone else’s. Her home, formerly the hotel’s old bathing pavilion, had been converted to a beach house and was in walking distance of the Indialantic. On days when the weather was too foul to write in the hotel’s bell tower, her cozy domicile with 180-degree ocean views afforded her the privacy and solitude she needed to write, and at the same time she was only a hug away from her eclectic family.

      One thing she wasn’t going to miss tonight was her late-night ritual of walking the shoreline. She took the steps down to the ocean. When she reached the sand, she kicked off her sandals, glancing up at the huge moon that reflected saffron like threads of yellow on top of gently rolling waves. Like Dorian had informed them during dinner, the moon was a waxing gibbous with ninety-nine percent illumination. Tomorrow’s moon would be full, strategically coordinated with the summer solstice and Julian and Dorian’s nuptials on Sunday. Evidently, suns and moons were a big deal to both psychics and witches. Liz was quite partial to them herself.

      June was the beginning of the sea turtle nesting season and she knew not to bring a flashlight on nights there wasn’t a moon. At the end of the season the hatchlings would make their slow crawl to the sea under a full moon. Looking toward a placid Atlantic, she thought back to the awkward evening meal at the hotel and started her walk north. It was low tide and she saw ahead that a bonfire blazed on the beach fronting the hotel. Bonfires were only allowed by special permit and never during turtle nesting season. She saw two figures. Julian Rhodes and Wren. She crept closer and saw that Wren was holding a folder and pressing it to Julian’s chest. She was shouting at him, but Liz couldn’t make out her words. Julian was laughing at her, his teeth reflecting moonlight. Then Wren said something and his smile disappeared.

      “Julian. Julian-n-n-n!,” Dorian’s voice came loud and strong from above, drowning out the gentle crash of the waves. She stood on the hotel’s boardwalk, her head turned to the south. Wren looked up and bolted toward the stairs leading up to the boardwalk. Once there she hid underneath, lost in the shadows.

      Liz followed Wren’s example. She moved as close to the dune as she could without being noticed, and secreted herself from view.

      Soon, she saw Dorian galloping toward Julian, her voice carrying on the breeze, “I was so worried when I saw you weren’t on the sofa in the sitting room. Is it because I insisted we don’t stay in the same bed before our wedding? It’s just after that dream—or nightmare—I don’t want to take any chances of Sunday not going smoothly. Are you terribly upset with me, darling?”

      He kissed her on the forehead. “Of course not, Dory. I just wanted to clear my head. I’m doing the cleansing ceremony to assure our blissful future and getting ready the items we need for the solstice and our wedding day.”

      “What would I do without you?

      “I was charging the water with moon energy,” Julian said. He raised something cupped in his hands up to the moon, then closed his eyes.

      “How long have you been down here? Does it take long to charge? And what spell are you performing?”

      Liz felt something crawl across her bare left foot. She stifled a scream, hoping it was just a small sand crab not a huge land crab that only came to the shore to lay its eggs. Their pincers were strong enough to snap off a toe. Or two. She relaxed when she realized it was June. Next month was when they laid their eggs.

      She saw Julian grab Dorian’s hand and they stepped closer to the stairs. “It’s been long enough to charge the water, Dory. Let’s go up. After we’re married, I will protect you with my physical presence, instead of just wellness spells.”

      Liz waited to come out of hiding until after she saw Wren slink up the steps. Wanting to make sure the fire had been completely snuffed out, she made her way over to where they’d been standing. It hadn’t. She used her foot to kick sand over the glowing embers.

      Before heading to her beach house, Liz took a second to breathe in the salt air. It was as if she was the only person on the planet and the universe had bestowed upon her a moonlit seascape for her eyes only. Or, hopefully soon, for her and Ryan’s eyes only. Two days, she told herself. Then she was free to get back to her blissful island life. She turned to follow the shoreline south and had a feeling that she was being watched. Glancing up to her right, she thought she saw movement behind a palm near the Indialantic’s boardwalk. She glimpsed a figure in black wearing a baseball cap. Just as Susannah had told her about earlier. Feeling angry and vulnerable at the same time, she called up. “Who’s there? Show yourself! This is private property.” There was a flash of black, then, whoever it was, disappeared from view.

      A few minutes later as she climbed the steps to her beach house, she mused about all the crazy things going on since the Wiccan leader and his cousin arrived. Even though psychic Dorian didn’t seem to be trusting hers, Liz trusted her intuition that Julian wasn’t a good match for Dorian. Had Dorian known that Wren and Julian had been on the beach together? Was that why she’d been so frantic after he’d disappeared from their suite? And who was the baseball capped figure she’d seen up on the boardwalk?

      For now, Liz decided to let Dorian deal with her errant fiancé.

      Liz had a kitten to feed.