Mistress of Night and Dawn (21 page)

‘Not exactly,’ Tristan said as he passed her a tiny espresso cup and saucer filled with an aromatic, deep-brown liquid.

Aurelia took a sip. It was chocolate, hot and thick with a touch of spice. Immediately she felt her chill lift and a soothing sensation filled her all the way to her toes and her fingertips. ‘But this is . . . I think I have had this before,’ she said.

‘Everyone’s had hot chocolate before,’ Lauralynn interjected, sliding into the spare seat alongside Aurelia before Tristan had a chance to. ‘Though he does make rather a special brew, I’ll give him that.’

Aurelia took another long, hard look at Tristan. Could he be the stranger? The man that she had desired for so long? She didn’t think so. He was attractive, beautiful even. But it was an unsettling sort of attraction: something physical welling up inside her. Something in her brain was warning her about an unquiet darkness surrounding him. But at the same time, that darkness beckoned to her, as if it was part of something greater, something he was part of. No, he was not the man she had given in to and gifted herself to, had willingly been taken by. Surely she would recognise ‘him’ somehow, even from a distance, would be able to feel the presence of the man who had stirred such strong passions within her that night and in so many of her waking fantasies since.

‘Do you know where Siv is?’ she asked him outright.

‘I know where Walter is,’ Tristan replied. ‘Or at least, I know where he will be, two nights from now. And if your friend is with him as you believe, then she will be there too and I can help you find her.’

‘What do you mean, she will be there? Where?’ Aurelia grumbled. She was growing tired of all this secrecy.

‘A very special party,’ Lauralynn said. ‘The Ball. It’s our highlight of the year.’

‘Our highlight of the year? Who is “Our”?’

‘Probably best that you get some sleep before we tell you all about it,’ Lauralynn soothed.

Aurelia’s cup was taken away from her. She murmured her thanks to Tristan for the drink, but he had gone back to the mini-bar and she was alone with Lauralynn on the couch. The warm hand that had rested so gently on her thigh in the back of the taxi cab was pressing against her skin harder now and she shivered as Lauralynn’s nails pressed against her skin, right at the seam of her knickers.

‘I should take a shower . . .’ Aurelia said sleepily, remembering that although it already felt like a lifetime ago, she was still wearing the same clothes that she had put back on again after her brief encounter with the Tom Sawyer look-alike from the university library.

‘You can share mine,’ Lauralynn replied, and then Aurelia felt the velvety softness of Lauralynn’s mouth against her own and the flicker of a warm, wet tongue delving gently between her lips.

Lauralynn pulled her to her feet into the nearest bedroom. The last thing that Aurelia saw before the door was shut firmly behind them was Tristan’s eyes boring into her own. Did she see a flicker of anger pass over his face? Or was it simply disappointment?

‘It’s a very exclusive party,’ Tristan had said, ‘but I believe your friend might be found there. I hear many circus folk and guys and gals from the arty crowd will be attending. Quite an event. It only comes round once a year and always somewhere different. And I mean really different. I went to one that was held in some underground caves and half the entertainers were dressed as bats and seemed to be flying. You won’t ever attend a more incredible party.’

‘You’ll love it,’ Lauralynn assured her, as they sipped their coffees in the sheltered courtyard of the hotel where she was staying off Pike Place Market.

It was the best coffee Aurelia had tasted since she had arrived in America. Warm, pungent, velvety, it spread across her throat as it travelled down, both soothing her senses and making them sharper. She took every sip as slowly as she could, to savour the taste better. Now she knew why Seattle was considered the coffee city of America.

Lauralynn winked at her.

‘Nice?’

‘Delicious.’

Tristan was looking intently at both of them and Aurelia wondered how much he knew, how close he was to Lauralynn. From the studied shape of his enigmatic smile, she guessed he knew everything. Aurelia blushed. She was anything but ashamed at having slept with Lauralynn; it had been an incredible experience. But she felt unsure about this undeniably attractive man being able to picture the way she had surrendered to pleasure in the arms of a woman.

His dark-green eyes alighted on her and she imagined him savouring the vision of their intertwined limbs. She drew a long breath. Even the way that he moved was hypnotic, and whenever she was in his presence she felt as though he was drawing her closer to him as if they were magnetised. He was difficult to read, though, and Aurelia was not convinced that she could trust him enough to let her guard down entirely. She would settle for admiring his physique from arm’s length, at least for the moment.

‘It’s strictly by invitation only,’ Tristan said. ‘But I am allowed to bring guests. However, the location must remain a secret and you will have to accept wearing something over your eyes for the crossing,’ he continued. ‘just for an hour or so,’ he added.

‘An island?’ Aurelia asked.

‘An island, yes,’ Tristan confirmed.

Aurelia was aware there were hundreds of islands in Puget Sound, so it would literally be a venture into the dark. Could she trust Tristan?

The others’ eyes were on her, as if they were both conspirators and she was the outsider.

‘I’m willing to go,’ Aurelia said.

Arrangements were made for the following evening and Tristan left them.

Sitting alone with Lauralynn, Aurelia realised with a sense of panic she had nothing to wear for the Ball, having travelled to Seattle with just a change of T-shirt and underwear.

‘Don’t worry,’ Lauralynn assured her, a playful tone in her voice. ‘Come back to my room. I’d certainly enjoy undressing you again and then we can even try some of my stuff on you. It’ll be fine. We’re almost the same height and as for size, did you know I’m a whizz with a needle and thread?’

Once they had boarded the ferry, a group of men in dark-blue sailor suits – Tristan among them – circulated amongst the guests and proceeded to restrict their vision, one by one, by blindfolding them with exquisitely soft silk night masks. Each mask was embroidered in silver thread with a symbol Aurelia was unable to recognise.

Lauralynn’s sight had not been impaired, leading Aurelia to the conclusion that she officially held an invitation to the mysterious event and was actually in cahoots with Tristan, took her by the hand and led her below deck. A sharp, bitter breeze was rising from the west, zigzagging its way through the jigsaw puzzles of islands littering the Sound, and freezing Aurelia to the bones under the flimsy gown that Lauralynn had altered to suit her: a mess of multicoloured chiffon that tied at her waist and a V-neck around her neck, barely covering her breasts and leaving her back and all the way to her belly button completely naked. When she spun, or if the fabric caught in the breeze, then the loose, full skirt flew up in all directions like a parachute, as if it that had been the designer’s intention, and Aurelia guessed that it probably had. Lauralynn had dressed to outrank Tristan, in skintight latex captain’s regalia complete with gold stripes on her sleeves and a blue and white hat that sat high on her head and made her just a few inches taller than he was. Aurelia had struggled to hide her amusement when she noticed Tristan’s sulky response to Lauralynn’s choice of attire. Lauralynn had caught her eye and winked, well aware that she had ruffled Tristan’s sartorial feathers.

As promised, the hop to the island took under an hour, which came as a relief to Aurelia, who, despite having been brought up by the sea, had never had much in the way of sea legs and had been apprehensive about the crossing, fearful of being sick and ruining her dress in the process.

As the ferry docked, there was a rumour of voices on the bridge above them as instructions were called out and the pitter-patter of feet increased. They had been sitting in a corner below, huddled together in silence although Aurelia had been full of questions.

Lauralynn rose and took her hand again and Aurelia followed, still unaccustomed to the enforced darkness, taking care not to stumble when her feet came across steps. Arriving on deck into the open, it felt like night, a distinctive chill in the air, and her senses were assaulted by a complex swirl of fragrances; the aroma of the sea blending with an intoxicating palette of sweetness, spices, fruit and other notes that teased her senses. It felt as if the island they had landed on lived outside time and was not subject to the normal laws of humankind, bathing in a glow and an odour of its own, unlike any other.

Before Aurelia could fully absorb her new environment, she felt Lauralynn’s hand let go of her and heard a whisper in her ear: ‘Welcome to the island of Doctor Wells . . .’

It was Tristan’s voice.

And then, from Lauralynn, ‘I’ll see you later, sweetie. I have matters to attend to,’ followed by the sound of departing footsteps.

She could hear the murmur of her fellow passengers welcoming their arrival and the gentle sound of the sea beneath her as a hand she guessed was Tristan’s took hold of hers and guided her across the deck. She gingerly manoeuvred herself, with his help, onto the lowered walkway that descended towards
terra firma
.

She finally set foot on the island, felt others brushing against her and heard a chorus of sighs rising as the guests realised they had finally arrived at their destination.

Tristan’s hand rose and loosened her mask.

Aurelia found herself just a stone’s throw from the shore. There was no port, no building, just a shingle beach, a scarred line of wave-swept rocks and a thick wall of trees facing them. She shivered.

‘What is this?’ she asked Tristan, a hint of anxiety creeping into her voice. She had not anticipated an uninhabited island.

‘Don’t fret,’ he replied. Through the cloud of night that surrounded them, she could see many of the other guests crowding around her and appearing similarly nonplussed by their situation.

‘It’s the reason this particular island was procured. Discretion.’ He tugged on Aurelia’s hand. He was wearing white leather gloves.

She followed his nudge and saw her fellow visitors being similarly prodded on by their minders. Stepping hesitantly, the small group broke through the line of trees and, in an instant, were rewarded by a flickering set of lights ahead, colours juggling with each other, bright reds and greens and every variation of the rainbow, like will-o’-the-wisps dotting the night.

Encouraged, their step quickened and the guests advanced in single file towards the illuminated area that was coming into focus.

As they got closer, it became apparent there was a forest inside the forest, with a group of outlying one-storey buildings dotted at irregular intervals along its periphery. A world within a world. They crossed the first row of lights and the ambient temperature rose as if by miracle, the night breeze magically fading away under the powerful attack of the hundreds of lights bathing the inner forest in warmth.

Broken shards of music threaded their way towards them from the distant heart of the woods – the sound of calliopes tinkling away, the melancholy strain of violins and the swing of entrancing melodies Aurelia was still unable to put a name to. The guests surrounding her purred with excitement and began to break ranks, drawn to the festivities and the line of lights with joyous abandon.

Aurelia wondered whether she should rush after them, seek out Lauralynn. Maybe Siv was somewhere ahead? But Tristan still gripped her hand and they came to a standstill as a multitude of guests emerging into the bay of bright lights overran them. Where had they all come from? There must have been several ferries disgorging them onto the island, not just the one she had travelled on, she guessed. Arriving from shores scattered up and down the Oregon coastline and further afield.

Her apprehension was melting away.

Aurelia glanced ahead at the exotically attired guests almost waltzing between the trees. She looked up and was struck by how extraordinarily green the branches were, every leaf impossibly hand-painted by some expert jeweller so it shone with a thousand shades of life. Like a stage set up in the middle of nowhere, both artificial and familiar, a theatre of dreams where the green of the tree leaves conjugated with the solar explosion of the artfully disposed lights bathing the centre of the island with a magic circle of enchantment.

‘It’s . . . beautiful,’ she said in a hushed tone, the mere thought of being any louder an offence to the spectacle unfolding before her eyes.

‘Isn’t it?’ Tristan replied, a benevolent look of self-satisfaction moving across his full lips. ‘We plan every Ball for a whole year, with much attention to every single detail. It has to be unique. That’s the only rule.’

‘I don’t know why,’ Aurelia remarked, ‘but it makes me think of Shakespeare.
A Midsummer’s Night Dream
.’

‘Oh yes, it is said Will once came to the Ball years ago.’ Tristan nodded.

‘Really?’

‘We go back centuries,’ Tristan said. ‘But only the Network elders know the whole story . . . I’m only second generation.’

So he was now revealing himself. Contradicting what he had said a few days earlier. He was directly involved with the Ball, not just a guest.

Peels of nearby laughter reached their ears. Through the break between a clump of trees and tall bushes, a woman trailing a thin white veil ran barefoot, pursued by what looked like a faun. Aurelia blinked, but the couple had already moved away, just the echo of their laughter flickering.

‘We can join the festivities later,’ Tristan said. ‘There is no rush.’

All Aurelia wanted was to run into the heart of the forest and experience its delights, to seek out Siv if this was where she now was, and to see Lauralynn again, but Tristan’s voice held a quiet authority and he emanated that unsettling aura of curious attraction. Every time she looked into his green eyes, she couldn’t help but be submerged in a multitude of feelings. She knew she couldn’t truly trust him, but something inside her was strongly drawn to him, somehow perceiving that he could fill something hollow inside her and perhaps even answer many of those lingering questions that had trailed her like heavy baggage ever since she had been a child. Aurelia shuddered, a fine mist falling across her eyes. She felt dizzy. It was the intimation of imminent answers as well as a strange sense of déjà vu. A feeling of belonging.