Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Luna
He’s been gone for three days and four nights.
I drive to the inn and check the clubhouse. I could pretend it’s to do things like visit the general store or walk from room to room in the cute Swiss chalet, but that would be lying.
I can’t wait to see Dante again. It’s eating me up inside that he came into my life for such a brief moment and yet somehow managed to make such an impact.
It feels like I’m in a relationship against my will. And that’s the last thing I want, especially after Giulio. Ugh.
Celia Heiner owns the general store and works there alongside her husband Harry. The first time I stepped into the store, she wanted to know who I was and for how long I was staying.
“I knew you must be Tempest’s kin,” Celia explained, pointing to my hair. “Linda came by to give us the sad news. It was a shock, I can tell you. What was she? Fifty-four, fifty-five years old? Taken too soon, my Lord.”
Celia crossed herself reflexively.
I never knew my aunt passed away so young. Mr. Bryant was not very forthcoming. I suppose he didn’t want to upset me.
“My mom died at forty-two. Cancer.” There I go again, oversharing. But Celia is the kind of person who brings that out in me. She’s kind and understanding of how bewildering I find my new circumstances.
“Never you mind, dearie. Heaven is the best place to be after suffering and pain.”
I have started to notice things like that in Landslide. A few things are off. Not majorly off, but just enough to make me feel like an alien visiting a different planet sometimes.
Everywhere else, folks say “pain and suffering,” but not here. Some of the other inconsistencies I have noticed in Landslide speech are rather endearing.
“Licking the windows” means someone is interested in an item. For example, Celia would say to me, “You want that loaf of bread, or are you just licking the window?”
Making a “bull out of a flea” means the same as the Americans saying “making a mountain out of a molehill.”
“Satan’s grandfather” is how they swear, similar to us saying “Christ on a bike” or something. For some bizarre reason, so is the word “percolated” a curse word. Makes me a bit suspicious of the coffee until Celia tells me there’s no connection.
If Harry Heiner is shuffling around the basement and stubs his toe, it’s hilarious to hear him yell out “percolated!”
I tell Celia that hearing Mr. Heiner swear like that is one of the “perks” of shopping for groceries. She takes a real shine to my tiny attempt at humor, chuckling and slapping the counter while wiping her eye. So friendly.
Oh, I nearly forgot. “Bear-headed” means a bad mood.
And instead of the email symbol “@” meaning “at,” Landsliders call it a “cat’s paw.” So, the inn’s email address is pronounced “chalet accommodation-cat’s paw-gmail dot com.”
It’s all so deeply weird.
I pump Celia for information at every chance I get. Today, I’m leaning on the countertop next to the cash till—it’s strictly cash-only on Landslide, with both Canadian and United States Dollars accepted as legal tender—so I watch her expand the map Ben gave me.
“Okee-doo,” Celia says, another one of those strange Landslide words, “this here’s your place with Ben Magoo next door.
” She draws a stick line house-shape with her pencil.
“The Farmers are about a mile and a half to the ferry jetty. Towards the woods are the Elliots. And abutting your land out back are the Steeles. And then there’s Vince Pruitt.
He lives on his boat moored in the marina. ”
I want to say “okee-doo,” but I don’t want Celia to think that I’m mocking her.
She moves the pencil over to the marker for Ben’s house. “The road goes around Magoo land like this, and then you’re back on Aherne property.”
“You mean to say I own the land all around the inn, too?”
“Mhm. Yuh.” Celia draws a few more squares to represent buildings.
“This is the Riders’ clubhouse. Across the road is our place, Harry and I live over the store.
Behind us is the mechanic, Carson Reagan.
He also lives over the shop. If you need gas for your vehicle, that’s the place to get it.
And behind town that-a-way is the marina. ”
Finally, I think I might have discovered where Tempest kept her boat.
“Please can you tell me the name of my aunt’s boat?”
“Nuh-uh. I forgot. Just sniff around there. You’re sure to find it.”
It feels like I’m burning up inside with so many unanswered questions. But I hold back, remembering what Tallie told me. Baby steps. Test out the water first. Don’t stick my foot in my mouth.
There is something I can ask, though. Pointing to all the blank spaces on the map, I give a bewildered chuckle. “Who lives here?”
Celia gives me a blank stare. “No one. The land’s all spoken for by the families.”
The confusion must be showing on my face, because Celia begins to elaborate.
“Landslide has boundaries, Luna. Outside folks have forgotten what it’s like to live with such things. They looove to overstep the dividing lines all the time, don’t they just?”
I try to joke. “Or else where’s the fun, am I right?”
Frowning me down, Celia continues.
“Sam Aherne, Tempest’s father, played by the rules. Went and got himself a nice American wife and brought her back here to settle down. But the woman took one look at the island and took off the first chance she got. Left poor little Tempest when the girl was still in diapers. Shocking.”
That was my granny!
“What boundaries do I need to know about?”
“Ben Magoo should have told you. Dundering clod that he is. Can’t see further than the nose on his face, figuratively speaking.
” Scooching closer, Celia lowers her voice.
“It’s the Riders who lay down the law in Landslide.
The MC, they like to call them rules or suggestions, but we know better.
And it’s a brave soul who breaks the boundaries the Riders have set in place. ”
Standing back from the counter, Celia looks triumphant. Like she’s pleased to be living in such a place.
“Er… are the Riders like a sheriff or a mayor, or something?”
“Nope.” After giving a definitive shake of her head, Celia begins to count off the rules on her fingers.
“Marry outsiders only. That’s non-negotiable. No cousins marrying cousins allowed on the island, thank you kindly! Property must pass from father to son. And visitors are only allowed to come over between the twentieth of June through to the twenty-second of September.”
Wait a minute! I must have arrived on the very last day of the summer before the—
“So Landslide really does have a curfew?”
Celia nods. “Sure enough. But every soul must be indoors before twilight each day, too. And we’re only allowed out again once the cock crows.”
I just can’t imagine an island full of doomsday preppers and homesteaders agreeing to abide by the laws laid down by a gang of hairy bikers!
“Why must there be a curfew? Surely that can’t be good for business at the inn.”
Shrugging, Celia pushes the map over to me.
“The system works. You won’t complain so much once you’ve got a crowd of summer hikers locked inside the inn doors with only beer drinking to amuse them.
We’ve had a few rule breakers through the years, but every visitor has to sign a waiver before they are allowed on the jetty, so no one gets into trouble. ”
I’m dying to know more, but I can see Celia glancing sideways at her teapot with a longing look.
“One more question, please, Celia. How long have the Riders been here—in Landslide?”
I’m about to tell her that I’ve met Dante already, but something stops me.
“They have been on the island as far back as I can remember. I am Linda Farmer’s great aunt on her grandmother’s side.
Harry came to pitch woo to me over forty years ago, God bless him.
I moved here from Canada and haven’t set foot off the island since.
The Riders have been here all that time.
They were young fellas then, but my, oh my, haven’t those men aged well? !”
Yes, Celia, I can agree, at least as far as my brief acquaintance with Dante goes! There is no way he’s upwards of fifty plus! I can’t believe it.
I’m just going to come right out and say what I’m thinking.
“Do they have girlfriends? Wives?”
“They keep their partners in Canada and the States. At least, that’s what they tell us. The MC President, Dante Sylva—that’s S-Y-L-V-A—told me he has a son. I’m happy for him. Well, someone has to be. The man always seems to be in a permanent bear-head state!”
That scans. I think Dante could be a total grump if he wanted to be. But there is a real ye olde worlde charm about the man, too.
Thanking Celia, I pick up the cardboard box of groceries and take them out to my car. I’m starting to see Landslide in a whole new light.
Is the chalet inn situated next to the Landslide equivalent of a police station? Is that what Tempest was trying to warn me about in her notebook? Something about the MC keeping the peace here, even though they might be as bad as the criminals.
Pressing the hatchback gas pedal to the floor, the vehicle kicks up a dust as it grinds uphill. Parking as close to the porch stairs as I can, I stagger to the front door with the groceries in my arms.
I’m about to put the box down so I can turn the doorknob when I notice it’s already open.
All my old fears flood back. Maybe the Midnight Riders haven’t got Landslide as securely locked down as they think?
And then I remember what Celia told me about boundaries. Something tells me the consequences of ignoring them might be severe.
Scoffing, I kick the door open and limp to the kitchen. My ankle’s healing nice enough for me to put a fair bit of weight on it.
Worrying about crime is what the locals would call “city thinking.” But the city slicker part of me finds it hard to suppress my natural survival instincts no matter how paranoid they seem.
“If anyone is in here, I just want you to know that I’m an expert at karate and I’m standing by the kitchen drawer with the knives in it!”
If I’m honest, I’ve been coasting off those after-school martial arts lessons I had in seventh grade for the last twenty years. The bulk of my self-defense I learned from my dad.
Packing away the groceries, I notice a bundle of letters in the cardboard box. Flicking on the kettle, I move to the couch while frowning at the thick bundle. Has Tallie gotten back to me already? That was quick. Maybe communicating via mail isn’t so bad after all.
The string comes away easily when I pull at the knot. About twenty different kinds of sealed envelopes fall onto my lap.
T. Aherne
Innkeeper
Chalet Inn
Landslide
℅ Angle Inlet Postal Service
Intrigued, I tear open the first envelope.
It’s an application of sorts. Maybe it’s more of a reservation.
Dear Ms. Aherne,
We would love to be considered for a stay at the inn. If you have space, we would like to reserve a room at the inn for four guests next year, June 20 to June 27. We were so sorry to have missed a spot last year due to the Chalet Inn closing for renovations.
We promise to leave nothing but footprints as proof of our visit.
Please send our confirmation letter to the address below, along with the back details of where we should make payment.
Thank you.
Anthony, Colette, Brenda, and Kent Banham
Checking the postmark and address, I see the letter was mailed in Nova Scotia, Canada. That’s a hell of a long way to come to sleep on a mudslide in the middle of a deserted creek!
Smiling to myself, I put on the kettle to make some tea. Two sandwiches and an apple later, and I’m in bed. I want to wait for Dante to come back before I open the rest of the mail. He will tell me what to do…
“I’m back.”
The words whisper into my ear like a winter breeze. The vibration of his deep voice rumbling out of his chest gives me immense pleasure.
There is something about this man that shakes me to my core. It’s such a profound feeling, I struggle to describe it.
“I missed you. I thought you had forgotten about me.” My words come out in a breathy purr.
“How could I forget you, vile descendent? I’m in love with your tainted blood.”
The skin between my eyebrows creases into a frown.
“Vile? Tainted? These are hardly lover-like words.” I want to give him a real good telling off, but I can’t seem to find the right tone of voice. This is because every fiber of my body tells me that I am the slave, because he is my master.
He knows this. An amused chuckle resonates in my bedroom as he shows his dark humor.
“You are mine, Luna. Together, we could rule the world, you and I.”
His words are having such an effect on me, I can no longer hide it. Sliding my hand between my thighs, I slip my fingers under my panties.
“I want you inside me. Please…”
“Our bond is not enough for you? You want it all. So greedy.”
Groaning, I try explaining.
“Not greedy. I’m desperate. It’s been too long.” Opening my eyes, I beckon the dark figure to come closer. “I will give you anything.”
His smile is enticing. I catch him inhaling the fragrance under my panties as the hot, moist cleft gets warmer. Hooking one long, white finger under the lace band, he pulls my underwear down with a lazy sensuality. I can feel his fingernail scraping over my skin. I shudder.
“Anything? I can get that anywhere. I want everything from you, little Luna.”
This time, I cannot agree with him. I’m not ready for such a big commitment. There is a tiny part of me that I will always hold back from being in a relationship.
The man senses my reluctance and growls.
“Come, play with yourself while I watch.” He moves closer so fast, his shadow is a blur. “I want that tight passage of your pussy to be dripping wet.”
Moaning softly, I reach for him, but he’s elusive. It’s like I’m trying to catch smoke.
“Do as I command. Imagine how much colder your life would be if I were to leave and never come back.”
As the orgasm mounts inside me, the pressure of needing to come is almost suffocating. Writhing, I gasp and pant. “I’m coming, Master…”