A matching ring glinted on my right index finger, one that had a spider rune stamped into the middle of the band. Bria had had the rings made and had worn them for years as a reminder of our family. She'd given me the spider rune ring for Christmas. I wasn't much for jewelry, but I wore it every day, hoping that Bria would realize how much it - and she - meant to me.
"I am happy," Bria said, finally responding to me. "It's nice to come back for a visit, you know? Blue Marsh was my home for a long, long time. I miss a lot of things about it. The sand, the sun, the quiet. Especially the quiet."
There was no malice in her voice, no sarcasm or hidden meanness, but her words still pricked my heart. Sometimes, I wondered if Bria would have been better off not knowing that I was still alive. She'd suffered so much, been brutally tortured and almost killed because of me. Bria didn't talk much about what Mab had done to her, but I could see the shadowy horror of it in her eyes when her thoughts went back to that night, that long, dark night when she'd been at the Fire elemental's mercy.
I could also sense her disappointment in me - and her seething anger.
Oh, Bria tried to hide it, but the emotion was always there, simmering just below the calm mask that she presented to the world. I could see it glimmering in her eyes whenever she looked at me and in the way that she stiffened and her hands clenched whenever I was near her. Bria blamed me for Mab's torturing her, and part of her wanted to lash out at me, even hurt me the way that the Fire elemental had hurt her. I could tell that Bria was trying to get past her anger, trying just as hard as I was, but neither one of us seemed to know what to do or say to the other.
More than once, I'd thought about apologizing to my sister for who and what I was, for what she'd suffered because of me, but I knew it wouldn't do any good. Fletcher had always said that apologies were just empty words, and that actions were all that really mattered in the end. But try as I might, I couldn't think of what I could do or say to make things better between me and Bria, to bridge this chasm that still stretched between us.
"But mostly, I miss Callie," Bria continued.
The Callie in question was Callie Reyes, Bria's best friend since childhood. When Finn had first broached the idea of a vacation, Bria had immediately suggested Blue Marsh. Apparently, she'd been dying to come back and visit Callie ever since she'd left to go to Ashland. The last few days, Bria had talked nonstop about her friend and how much she was looking forward to seeing her again. The two of them had already made plans to spend some time together in between Callie's work schedule - plans that Bria didn't include me in. That had hurt more than I'd expected, but at this point, I'd do anything to make my sister happy - even let her spend our vacation with someone else.
"I can't wait to see Callie," Bria added. "And I can't believe she went and got engaged without me even meeting the guy first. She seems really crazy about him, but I need to check him out and make sure that he'll treat her right. My best friend can't just marry anybody, you know. Callie's always been there for me, especially when my parents died. I want to make sure that she's found the right guy."
"Of course you do," I said in a light tone, trying to match her mood. "I know how much you care about her, and I'm looking forward to meeting her. Maybe we can all go out for drinks one night and really get to know each other."
Silence. Once again, I felt that anger rolling off Bria - this time, for my trying to butt into her plans.
"Sure," Bria said, several seconds too late to be believable. "That sounds like fun."
An awkward silence filled the car, dimming the brightness of the day. Bria hit the replay button on the radio, but she didn't sing along this time. Instead, her hands tightened on the steering wheel, and she sped up, as if she now wanted the drive to be over with as soon as possible.
I sighed, put my head back on the seat, and closed my eyes, wishing the wind could whip my troubles away as easily as it tangled my hair.
An hour later, Bria crossed a bridge, turned off the road, and steered the car through an open iron gate that was set into the middle of a ten-foot-high, white stone wall. A gold plaque on one of the gateposts read The Blue Sands est. 1899.
We traveled along a curving driveway made of smooth white cobblestones for the better part of a mile. A lush eighteen-hole golf course spread out like an emerald carpet to the left, while the beachfront glinted like bronze diamonds to the right. Copses of peach, pecan, and palmetto trees broke up the flat horizon, although the thick, humid air shimmered in waves that seemed to match the steady rise and fall of the ocean.
The Blue Sands hotel was sandwiched in between the golf course and the beach. The structure soared an impressive thirty stories into the salty sea air, its white stone facade matching the outer wall and the cobblestones we'd just rolled over. Wrought-iron balconies curled around the various floors like ropes of metal ivy, while the roof was made out of red slate, completing the beautiful seaside vista.
I concentrated, reaching out with my magic and listening to the stone of the hotel. Sun-blasted, sand-crusted, and alcohol-soaked murmurs filled my mind, matching the thoughts and actions of the thousands of people who had stayed here over the years. This was a place where people came to take in the sun and sea air, with a bottle of coconut oil in one hand and a freshly made mojito in the other. The easy, breezy sounds weren't unlike the clogged contentment that rippled through the brick of the Pork Pit.
Bria parked the Aston Martin at the end of a long line of cars waiting to be whisked away by the scurrying valets, and we got out of the convertible. I pushed my sunglasses on top of my head and squinted against the sun's brilliance, my eyes moving over everyone and everything around us. The men in expensive polo shirts carrying heavy bags of golf clubs, hopping onto carts to be shuttled out to the back nine for their games. Their wives and girlfriends who were all tanned, trimmed, and toned to within an inch of their lives. The valets and bellmen in their white-linen jackets and pants hurrying to keep everyone happy and earn their tips for the day.
"We're staying here?" I asked. "This is a little more . . . visible than what I had in mind."
I might be on vacation, but that didn't mean that I could completely relax my guard. I'd killed plenty of people in Ashland and beyond, and I wouldn't put it past any of my enemies to try and track me down here. The Blue Sands wasn't exactly low-profile.
Bria shrugged. "Well, it was my idea to come down here for the weekend, and Finn asked me for hotel recommendations, since I grew up on the island. It's the fanciest hotel in Blue Marsh. You know how he is."