Money Shot

by Susan Sey

  The point was, disappearing wasn’t so easy on Mishkwa. Lila had a decent library, though, full of big fascinating books. Books about herbs and spells and potions and power. Books that spoke to something inside her that twisted and yearned. Books that would make her parents—if they knew she was reading them—completely stroke out.

  Or they would have once upon a time. They didn’t care so much about her reading material anymore.

  Regardless, Yarrow liked to grab the thickest book she could carry and tuck herself into some unexpected corner until Sunday-night prep was finished.

  But Yarrow had learned something else during her exile on Mishkwa. She’d learned that Einar always came by the tea shop after he’d been away. Always. And if Yarrow wanted to see him—which, God, she did—she’d get her ass to the kitchen.

  She was stuffing spoonfuls of decaf green tea into little square packets of handwoven linen when the sleigh bells at the door jingled. Her heart rocketed into her throat.

  “Hey, ladies.” Einar strolled through the door, hands tucked into jeans pockets, jacket open over a flannel shirt the color of autumn leaves. She felt his gaze touch on her then move to Lila. Heat bloomed in her cheeks, and she kept her head down until it faded.

  “Hey, Einar,” she said.

  Lila said, “Well, the world traveler returns!”

  “I don’t know if Mackinac Island qualifies as world travel, Grandma,” Yarrow said. “It’s, like, around the block.”

  “You kidding?” Einar draped himself over a stool and propped an elbow on the counter. “It’s three Great Lakes away. I’m exhausted.”

  “Poor baby,” Yarrow crooned. He threw her a sharp look, and she hastily dropped her eyes to the tea bags.

  “Exhausted and hungry, I assume?” Lila asked, a laugh in her voice. Yarrow nearly sagged with relief. The last thing she needed was Lila catching a clue.

  Einar gave his aunt a charming grin. “Am I so transparent?”

  “Like glass, darling. Like glass.”

  He snatched up her hand across the counter, pressed a lavish kiss to her knuckles. “A grilled ham-and-cheese? With that fancy mustard? I swear, nobody makes it like you do, Lila.”

  “Sweet talker.” She swatted at him, but headed for the kitchen. She peered over Yarrow’s shoulder on her way by. “Don’t pack them so full, honey. The leaves need room to breathe.”

  Yarrow scowled at the pile of plump tea bags in front of her. Like she didn’t know that already. She just hated seeing the bags all limp and half empty. Like there wasn’t enough inside them. “Whatever.”

  Lila pushed through the kitchen doors, then poked her head back into the shop. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen a minute, Einar? Keep me company while I cook?”

  “Of course.” He unfolded himself from the stool with a lazy grace that had Yarrow’s heart hammering in her chest. He caught her eye as he cleared the pass-through, tossed her a questioning glance.

  She gave him a shrug. She’d heard some of what Rush and Goose had talked to Lila about, sure. The weirder she looked, the less people noticed her. Throw in some earbuds that were only occasionally plugged into actual music and she was as invisible here as she had been at home. At least she had been before di Guzman turned up. Agent Smiley Face was the only reason she’d even turned on some actual music halfway through their conversation instead of listening to the whole, fascinating thing. Left to their own devices, Lila and Rush would never have noticed her there in front of the fire.

  Einar disappeared into the kitchen, and she crept over to put an ear by the door. Lila turned on the water in the sink full blast and the murmur of their voices disappeared into it. Shit. She tossed the tea bags she’d prepped into the pretty silver canister Lila had set out for them, then took her time hauling out the box of stir sticks from under the counter next to the kitchen door. The water turned off as she slipped the sticks one by one into the blue-glazed vases Lila liked, but then Lila switched on the exhaust fan over the range.

  Yarrow gave up. She grabbed a tray and moved into the dining room, where she gathered napkin dispensers and sugar bowls from all the tables. By the time Einar bumped through the kitchen door again—grilled cheese in hand—she was at the counter, slopping sugar into bowls.

  “Thanks, Lila,” he said. Hair flopped into one eye as he hit her with a lopsided smile. “You’re a queen among women.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” Lila said, flicking him with a dish towel. “You’ll think about what I said?”

  “Of course. But I seriously can’t imagine who would—”

  Lila cut him off with a pointed look at Yarrow. Jesus, Yarrow thought, like I’m deaf and blind.

  “Just . . . come to me,” she said. “With anything, all right?”

  “Ain’t no mountain high enough,” he sang. “Ain’t no valley low enough.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Lila shook her head, though Yarrow could see the smile tugging at her lips. “Yarrow, I’m going upstairs. Yule is coming up and I’m already dreadfully behind. Will you top off the sugar bowls?”

  Her stomach went light and jumpy at the idea of being alone with Einar, but she covered it with a pointed look at the sugar sack in her hands and the heaping bowls in front of her. “Gosh. I’ll try to remember.”

  Lila sighed. “Lock up when Einar leaves, will you?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good night, dears.”

  Lila disappeared, and Yarrow listened to the receding tap of her steps. Her eyes were fixed on the tray in front of her but every nerve in her body was fixed on Einar. He set aside the sandwich he’d wheedled out of Lila, crossed to the outside of the counter and sat down directly in front of her. The breath in Yarrow’s lungs went hot and useless.

  “Ain’t no river wide enough.” He sang the old song softly, his voice a rich, low throb she could feel in her own chest. “To keep me from gettin’ to you, girl.”

  “Diana Ross? Really?”

  “Please. That was the Marvin Gaye version.”

  “Like I care.”

  “Oh, you care, pretty girl.” Einar reached out and took her chin in long, warm fingers. A fluttery shimmer exploded in her belly and shot all the way up to her throat.

  She jerked her chin away. A cold spark glittered in his blue eyes, but amusement curved his lips.

  “Why the pout, little cousin?”

  “I’m not pouting.”

  “Looks like a pout to me.” He leaned forward, those icy hot eyes on her mouth. Her stomach lifted on a jet of pleased terror. Or terrified pleasure. She wasn’t exactly sure, but it was a killer rush. More than she’d felt—or allowed herself to feel—since she’d landed on this godforsaken island. “And I consider myself something of an expert on women’s lips.”

  She tossed her head and gave him a cool stare. “So I’m a woman now? Here I thought I was a little girl.”

  “You’re in the mood to play with fire, aren’t you?” he said softly. “Take care you don’t get burned.”

  “Right,” she muttered, and reached for the sugar sack. “Because you’re completely Mr. Dangerous.”

  His hand shot out, snatched her around the wrist and slapped her palm down on the counter. He jerked her forward, his fingers rough and strong around her wrist, his face hard and near—so very near—her own. He’d come half out of his seat to fix her with those wild blue eyes. Eyes burning with anger, yes, but something more. Something hot, immediate, demanding.

  She’d pushed him, pushed on purpose. She’d wanted a response. She’d been invisible so long, and for the most part she didn’t care. But he mattered. She wanted this man to see her.

  “Einar?”

  Instantly, his grip on her wrist gentled, and relief eased through her like fog.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, a rueful smile in those lightning eyes. “I’m such a beast. But something about you just gets me, Yarrow.”

  “It does?” She went still, breathless with delight.

  He lifted a vag
uely helpless shoulder then touched the back of her hand with one finger. “Did I hurt you?”

  “I’m not a baby, Einar.” She gave him what she hoped was a sultry look from under her lashes. It felt a little weird—God, her entire body felt weird—but his smile grew, so she must be doing all right. “I’m not that breakable.”

  He traced his finger up the faint ridge of tendon in the back of her hand, circled the knob of her wrist. A flush crawled into her cheeks and her breath hitched. Heat burned down her chest and into her stomach like she’d gulped boiling tea and she swayed toward him.

  “So,” he said. “Sounds like Agent di Guzman and our cousin Rush have been busy little beavers while I was away.”

  Her happy glow died and she snatched back her hand. He wanted information. He was softening her up to spill everything she knew. Fuck that. She might be young but she wasn’t stupid.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said. “She and Ranger Rush have been joined at the hip since she got here.” She gave him a significant look. “They’re shacked up out at the Ranger Station, you know.”

  Einar gave her an indulgent smile. “I’m sure my high-minded cousin is taking good care of her.”

  She made an irritated noise. Damn, what had she been thinking? Of course Einar wasn’t going to be jealous of Rush. The guy lived like some kind of monk, to the point that people had started to wonder if maybe he’d gotten his dick shot off in one of those tragic, sandy countries he’d spent so much time in. Yarrow had half believed it, too. Then she’d gotten a load of the way her oh-so-serious cousin looked at Agent di Guzman, and changed her mind.

  She hoped, nastily, Einar would get his changed, too. The hard way.

  “They’ve got Lila all worked up about something, Yarrow. What’s going on?” he asked softly.

  She jerked her shoulders. “I didn’t hear that much.”

  “But what you did hear?”

  The urge to please him trickled back in around the anger, the hurt. She looked away. “Something about the mines,” she said. “They said they hiked to the mines a few days ago. Somebody’s been messing around with the Stone Altar or something.”

  “Yeah, Lila said that.” He leaned back, farther out of her sphere, and she felt the loss. Jesus, she was an idiot. “Somebody’s playing at black magic?”

  “That’s what they said.”

  “Do they know who?”

  Yarrow tipped her head. “I didn’t hear.”

  “I hope they’re not looking at you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yarrow, don’t be a child.” Einar shook his head, folded his arms on the counter. “You think they don’t know what’s in you? You think they can’t sense it?”

  Fire licked up from her belly all the way out to her fingers. “Sense what?”

  “Power.” His eyes were bright and hot on her, though his voice was cool as rain. “Any idiot can see it. The goddess gifted you with something amazing. It’s why you have such a hard time keeping friends. You’re different. Special. There’s something in you that’s not in them, and they’re jealous. And Lila’s a fool not to allow you into the coven.”

  “My parents made her promise she wouldn’t—”

  “Your parents don’t care about you.”

  Pain bloomed, surprising and ugly. She’d thought it couldn’t hurt her anymore, thought she’d gotten used to it. This being tossed aside like so much garbage. She sucked in a sharp breath and he slid his hand over hers.

  “I don’t mean to hurt you, Yarrow. Remember, though, I’ve been where you are. Forgotten, overlooked, thrown away. My mother dumped me here, too.” His lips twisted in self-mockery. “Or haven’t you heard the stories?”

  “I’ve heard,” she said softly.

  “You need to be trained, Yarrow. What you have is too rare, too special to go undeveloped.”

  Something gaped inside her, raw and dizzying and fierce, and she wanted. She wanted recognition, she wanted belonging, she wanted revenge. She wanted to stop fucking hurting all the time. What if he was right? What if it wasn’t her fault, the stinking mess she’d made of her life? What if this thing inside her, this slow boil of rage and desire and impulse, wasn’t a sin? Wasn’t a flaw? Wasn’t the root of all evil?

  What if it was a gift? A gift she simply didn’t understand but could learn to use? And if she learned to use it, maybe she would stop hurting people. Maybe she could be normal again.

  He leaned in, dropped his chin until he could look straight into her eyes. Into her soul. Into her mind. It was as if he could see the words she was thinking and they made him smile.

  “Normal’s overrated,” he said softly, and the shock of it ripped into the very center of her. It wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t wishful thinking. He saw her. This man, this beautiful, golden man, he saw her. He saw what was inside her; he recognized it and it didn’t scare him. Didn’t disgust him. He valued it. Valued her.

  “Think about it, okay?” he said, then rose.

  “Wait!”

  He stopped but she didn’t know what to say next. She only knew she didn’t want him to go. He smiled and feathered his fingers along the line of her jaw and into the warm hair at the nape of her neck. An involuntary shiver rocked her as he pressed the ritual kiss to each cheek.

  “Blessed be, sister.”

  Chapter 13

  GOOSE STOOD shivering in her running clothes by the rail of the ferry the next afternoon as it eased in to dock. Hornby Harbor was a tiny mining town literally dynamited out of a granite cliff. To the south, ore docks arched out into Lake Superior like a rusty cathedral, while to the north Highway 61 barely eased off the accelerator on its way to Canada. Perched on the rocky patch in between was the North Shore’s answer to civilization—a cluster of gas stations, bars, pie shops and churches clinging to the highway like ticks on a Labrador.

  Gas spread its oily rainbow on the water and Einar breathed in the fumes like the sommelier had offered him a cork. “Ah, civilization,” he said. “There’s nothing quite like a combustion engine.”

  Yarrow snorted. “Tell me about it.”

  “I could do without ’em,” Rush said, leaning on the rail beside Goose. “But then I have to bust anybody dumb enough to poach moose on Park Service land from a snowmobile.”

  “Are there a lot of people that dumb?” Goose asked, smiling.

  “You’d be surprised.”

  Einar said, “To be fair, that bull moose has been kind of a nuisance lately.”

  “Good ol’ Sir Humpalot,” Yarrow said. She’d gone with her usual basic black, from the two lifeless pigtails hanging out of her knit cap all the way to her baggy socks. White running shoes stood out like an electric shock on her feet. “I think he and Lila’s Dumpster are going steady.”

  “If the Park Service wants him taken out, they’ll let me know.” Rush’s jaw tightened. “Until then, the law stands.”

  “Which law?” Yarrow asked. “The one against hunting, or the one against motor vehicles?”

  “Both,” Rush told her. “All. The legal system isn’t cafeteria style. You don’t get to pick and choose.”

  “What if Sir Humpalot gets tired of Dumpsters, though?” Yarrow asked. “What if he moves on to, I don’t know, horses or canoes or, shit, what else is really big? What about Ronnie Samuelsson? She’s frickin’ enormous.”

  Einar sucked his teeth, clearly trying not to laugh. Goose shook her head.

  “I’m just saying. Would she be allowed to defend herself? Or would you arrest her for putting down a horny moose?”

  “Yarrow,” Goose said softly. “Unkind.”

  Yarrow shrugged and yanked her cap down over her ears. She fiddled with the touch screen of her iPod then closed her eyes, lost to them.

  Rush shot a look at Einar. “Why do you encourage her?”

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  “You say lots of words. Just never the right ones.”

  “At least I speak.”

  “Oh, look,” Goose said. “T
he crew has the gangway secured.” Rush gave his cousin one last glare and headed for the dock. She half expected him to cuff Einar up the back of the head on his way by, but he didn’t. Good thing, too. Einar would return the favor, and then it would be World Wrestling Entertainment SmackDown! right here on the ferry. These two might be cousins but they behaved more like brothers. Which, given the way they’d been raised, made perfect sense.

  Given that, however, she would have expected a certain amount of gruff affection between them as well. All she picked up was a bedrock loyalty, though. Duty, not warmth. At least on Rush’s part. On Einar’s, she felt nothing at all.

  Something to consider, she thought as the three of them fell in behind Rush without a word, Einar and Yarrow exchanging eye rolls they weren’t particularly careful to conceal. They found the Park Service vehicle in the lot, and Rush climbed in. He cranked over the ignition and the old Jimmy’s engine roared to life while Goose urged Einar into the passenger seat.

  “You’re as tall as I am,” he said, dropping a lingering glance over her legs, encased in slick running tights. “Why should you cram into the back?”

  “We might be close to the same height but there’s more of you than there is of me,” Goose countered, putting a deliberate note of appreciation in her voice. She gave him a once-over of her own for good measure. “Considerably more.”

  His brows lifted in smug pleasure. “Well,” he said, squaring his jaw. “If you’re sure?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She gave him a little nudge toward the passenger seat. A token bit of body contact to seal the deal. God. Yarrow had been right the other day. Boys were simple. “Yarrow and I will cozy up together in the back, just us girls.”

  “I do love it when girls get cozy,” Einar murmured, so low she barely caught it. She swallowed the disgust that rose in her throat and turned a friendly look on Yarrow. The hate and jealous rage in Yarrow’s eyes hit Goose like a sucker punch. She pulled in a quick breath and dropped back a step.