The Marked Ones (3 page)

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Ardhi was awoken by a buzzing in his bulging pocket. He squinted one eye open and cringed when a ray of white sunlight blinded him. The mechanic chirp of the cheap mobile phone was loud and hostile and seemingly relentless, so he rolled onto his side on the warm sand and slapped the button to answer the call.

‘Hello?’ he croaked, pushing the speaker button and holding the phone out in front of him awkwardly. ‘Ivyanne?’

‘No butt head, it’s not Ivyanne.’ His sisters’ tone was brusque. ‘Is that how you always answer the phone? It would explain why people think you’re losing it.’

Ardhi groaned and leaned back against the large boulder which had been shielding him all night. ‘Pintang? Why are you calling me?’

‘The real question is-why are you answering?’ The disapproval in her usually gentle voice was unmistakeable. ‘If you were at the Cape, where you’re supposed to be, there wouldn’t be a signal.’

Busted. Ardhi lay stared moodily at the crystalline water slapping against the oyster rocks near his feet. He’d kept a vigil from the sandy spot between the rocks all night-his position too high for the tide to breach. ‘You spoke to her?’

‘Of course I have.’ Pintang’s voice was full with self-importance, which was unusual for her. ‘I was assigned to check on her first.’

‘What did she say about me?’

He heard her curse under her breath. ‘Ardhi I can’t believe you followed her here! Do you know how desperate that looks?’

‘Well, I
am desperate,’ Ardhi said quickly, ‘I don’t like her being here, okay, but the sooner she starts, the sooner she can come back.’

He heard his sister sigh. ‘Ardhi she left because she was suffocating! Now she’s come up for air, and
you’re pushing her back under. Women don’t like to be followed, okay? It’s not attractive.’

Ardhi flinched at the word. ‘
Following her? Now you’re saying it too? Last year, the phrase was ‘hanging out.’ Now I’m supposed to back off  because others want in? I was here first! Why isn’t anyone calling Tristan Loveridge and Bane Londeree stalkers?’

‘Well, Bane’s giving her space, you
know that,’ Pintang pointed out. ‘And Tristan is....’

‘
What?’ His sister, and most of their women, had been in love with Tristan Loveridge since the dawn of his time. ‘Too hot to be annoying?’ Ardhi used the mainland euphemism for ‘attractive’ because it sounded the flakiest-which was exactly what Tristan was-a flake.

He heard his sister laugh. ‘I would also have accepted: “Charming” and “suave.” Bottom line-he’s not tailgating her,
is he? In fact I don’t think he’s shown his face yet.’

Ardhi huffed in annoyance. The last thing he wanted or needed, was a lecture on how to be “suave” like Tristan the flake. ‘Pintang, I was kind of counting on you to be the one person who had my back here,’ he said sadly, ‘if you love me, couldn’t you try to make me feel better, instead of worse?’

There was a pause. ‘Funny you should say that,’ she said quietly, ‘because I’m pretty sure that’s what Ivyanne expected of you.’

Ardhi didn’t want to hear another word. It was easy for Pintang to come off all sage and empathetic to the princesses plight-she had no idea what it was like to be the world to somebody one day, then regarded as a stalker the next.

‘So you think I should just ignore how I feel about her and let her marry for convenience, not love?’

‘Nooooo.... I’m saying, give her the space she needs.’ There was a pause. ‘I agree that you’re her perfect match.’ She exhaled heavily. ‘But Ivyanne is never going to be able to see you as the solution when you’re
acting like the problem. She’s used to you being her best friend and her rock...and right now, being there for her means being nowhere near her until she’s had the chance to sort her feelings out.’

Ardhi nodded in the darkness, biting his lip. Pintang was right. He had handled things badly. But what about
his feelings? Her running from him was like a slap in the face. And then the way she’d acted the night before...

Ardhi recalled the previous evening, how her warm skin had shivered against his, and his mouth went dry. Pulling his lips away from hers had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, but he was glad he had. They would have a first kiss-he was sure of it-and it wouldn’t be an act of manipulation on her part, but of desire.

Romance, desire...... Ardhi began to see his sister’s point. What he needed was for her to miss him-and she wouldn’t miss him if he was always there.

‘I’ll go back to the Cape with mum and dad, okay?’ Ardhi finally said. ‘But you need to keep me informed with what’s going on. If Bane or Tristan show up-’

‘You’ll be the first to know.’ Pintang said softly. ‘I really am sorry, little brother.’

‘Thanks.’ Ardhi said gruffly, feeling tears threaten. ‘Anyway-I have to go.... I need sleep before I swim home.’

‘Goodbye Ardhi.’

‘Good-bye.’ Ardhi shoved the phone back into his pocket. He’d go back to the family summer cabin to sulk the days away in his parents company, like a dutiful little boy.

But if either Tristan or Bane showed up to cut the grass he’d been cultivating for almost a decade-there’d be hell to pay.

3.

By seven o’clock that night, Ivyanne’s feet were boiling in agony. She didn’t know if it was the shoes, or the hard granite tile beneath those shoes, or just her natural reaction to being on her legs all day-but the tears had been pricking at the corners of her eyes since sunset.

It wasn’t just her either. She’d seen one or two other workers come through, ‘special’ staff like herself, and as the day wore on, their faces lost a little of their animation. Pintang seemed especially hardy, but as a cleaner, Ivyanne supposed she’d had the chance to sit down a few times that day in the privacy of other peoples’ rooms.

Mostly, Adele kept her hopping with simple tasks like clearing dishes or refilling sauce bottles while Adele herself took the orders and brought the food to the tables. Adele worked hard, Ivyanne could grudgingly admit that. Then again, Ivyanne had the natural inclination to find the good in everybody, a little habit she’d picked up while staring down the barrel of not one, but two betrothals to men she barely knew. Acceptance was a lifeline for her, and breeding well her only goal.

‘Your shift is almost up,’ Adele said as she bustled by with a delicious-looking margarita in each hand. Ivyanne wanted to lean over and lick the salt of the rims of the glasses.

‘Oh?’ She asked, like she hadn’t been counting the seconds.

Adele nodded. ‘Remi’s been working down in the function room so Liv will be in to replace you shortly.’

‘Great,’ Ivyanne said. She didn’t know Liv, but Remi Donnelly (nee Court-Zara) Ivyanne’s second cousin, had helped to get her the job. Remi had spent more time on the mainland then anyone Ivyanne knew. She was a land-lubber in every sense, and had even married a human man-a local member for the Green Party, Michael Donnelly. They owned a house nearby. It wasn’t common for one of them to marry a human, but it did happen. Of course Michael had no idea what his wife really was. Secrecy meant more to their kind then life did. Or marriage.

‘I’m just going to run out to table twelve and tell them about the oyster special.... will you be all right for a second?’

‘Sure,’ Ivyanne said to Adele’s retreating back as she threaded through the arrangement of cane tables. She bit her lip as she stacked the dishwasher, hoping she’d done a good job that day-she needed to hold the position, despite her inexperience. The eastern coastline was littered with resorts but the Seaview was the only truly isolated one-and the only place Ivyanne wanted to be. It was familiar, even though so much time had passed since she’d last holidayed in the area.

A lot of her subjects chose to go further inland and seek jobs in all sorts of employ to
really experience mainland life, but Ivyanne knew she was too weak to stray far from the coastline. Being a backpacker was good alias, and required little resume fraud. All of them earned cash-and the ocean was just a sprint away.

Ivyanne shut the door on the dishwasher and pushed the button to start the cycle. Then, she took the tray of steaming hot glasses she had already washed and turned to take them to the bar fridge, so intent in her task that she didn’t notice the man who had stepped behind the bar and now blocked her path to the refrigerator doors.

‘Oh!’ she cried out, surprised to find someone in her personal bubble-he was so close- and so tall-that her eyes were in direct line with the uppermost button on his shirt.

‘Sorry! Let me help you with those.’ The man said, extending his hands to take the tray from her. ‘You must be Ivyanne? I’m the night manager around here.’

‘Um...’ Ivyanne was so startled by his appearance that her fingers remained tight around the steel bars of the tray. So this was her other boss-and Adele’s beau! Well, that made sense, Adele herself was at least five eight.

‘Yes, that’s me....’ Ivyanne looked up into his face and was hit by such a jolt of complete recognition that her hands went to her face in shock. And it must have been a mutual recognition because his hands started to rise up, like he was about to grab her by the shoulders. As a result, the tray of glasses clattered to the floor. The rubber mat beneath her feet cushioned the blow, but the tinkling of smashed glass was unmistakable, and drew a cheer from some of those in the dining area.

But Ivyanne only noted this in her sub-conscious. In the moment itself, she was almost too beside herself to react accordingly. His name came to her lips but she pressed them firmly together to stop it from escaping. Her heart expanded and shrunk, and adrenalin got her nerve endings firing to the effect of chaotic fireworks-but she was still trained enough to know that every thing she did and said in the next few seconds was vital to keeping her identity a secret. So she fought off every urge in her weary body to throw her arms around her boss’s neck, and dropped to her knees under the guise of sorting out the mess, lowering her eyes as well. Only when she wasn’t looking into those beautiful brown eyes, did the fog lift from her panicked thoughts.

‘I’m so sorry sir!’ She finally managed to stutter, keeping her eyes on the shattered glass. ‘I’ve been so careful not to drop a single glass-and then I go and drop
twenty!’ Her mind was reeling. Boss. Sir. Those labels were so wrong. So very wrong.

‘Don’t worry about the
glass!’ The man dropped to his knees, his hand reaching out to grasp Ivyanne’s wrist with urgency. ‘Aren’t you...?’

Ivyanne looked up and into his eyes, unable to stop herself. If he was actually recognizing her, as she suspected he was, she had to kill
that train of thought. ‘The girl from last night?’ she fobbed, knowing already that it had been him she’d encountered while returning naked from the sea-the boy from her past was also the shadowy figure from the night before. His height was a dead giveaway, after all, and his voice. ‘Please sir... don’t tell anyone, I’m so embarrassed...’

Lincoln blinked as his mind went where she was pushing it. They seemed to focus for a
moment, on her face, then un-focus as he dug up the memory of a naked girl on the sand. Ivyanne silently willed him to see the impossibility of his initial instinct, willed herself to look sixteen and unfamiliar to him. God help her, she was on the verge of humming him brain-dead, which was something she was usually loathe to do.

‘Last night?’ he finally repeated, as though in a daze. He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘That was
you?’

She bit her lip and ducked her head again. ‘Busted....’

‘Oh,’ he said this flatly, and his face went a little slack. He looked down at the glass, then seemed to shake something off. ‘That must be it...’ he muttered mainly to himself.

Ivyanne took a moment to examine his profile, completely overcome and unable to tear her eyes away. How many times had she imagined that moment and what she would say to him? How fiercely she would kiss him? She rose to her feet, lecturing herself inwardly. A reunion with Lincoln Grey had been a dream, but a childhood one. Now, it was an unexpected and very dangerous situation. What was he even doing there, and how long had he been there for? How could she not have
known?

Tears of loss pricked at her eyes as she studied him and took an inventory of how cruel time had been to him. He looked like a middle-aged man now, even though he couldn’t be thirty yet, and was a mere shadow of the handsome tourist come summer lifeguard who had stolen her heart so many seasons ago. She had recognized his eyes, but not much else was the same, well, aside from the thrill that raced through her. He’d lopped off his shoulder length brown hair, and their were smile lines around his eyes, and frown lines around his mouth. His posture was slightly stooped, as was typical of tall people who were self conscious about their height, and his skin was dry and pale, like he hadn’t seen the sun or a bottle of water in years.

The run-in with him the night before on the beach was one saving grace at least-it gave him a new association with her that she had to play up if she was going to get out of this situation without incident, but her poor heart was beating so furiously she was afraid it would have a staccato-like effect on her voice.

‘I’m very sorry, again. For the glasses. I’ll go and get a broom.’

The man stood up, his gaze raking over her from head to toe. She could practically see the calculations behind his eyes. Good, let him do the math and come to the conclusion that he was insane for even thinking it. The girl he knew was supposed to look thirty too.

Still, his appraisal had her rooted to the spot, heart pounding. God...it was good to see him. Surreal, and wonderful and completely bittersweet.

‘Ivyanne! What happened?’ Adele appeared at Link’s side, glancing from him, to her, to the mess on the floor.

‘I knocked them out of her hands,’ Link said quickly, darting a glance in Ivyanne’s direction, one that said he had no intention of selling her out as a midnight streaker. ‘I must have surprised her.’

‘Oh,’ Adele’s forehead wrinkled with annoyance. ‘Look Ivyanne, don’t worry about the broom-Link will grab it. It’s best you get out of here and make sure you’re not cut before you touch anything else. Nothing stings a cut quite like bourbon.’

Still looking shell-shocked, Lincoln backed out of the room, his wandering gaze apparently set on cleaning up the mess they’d made together. But he looked back once, and when  he did, Ivyanne saw that his curiosity had not been sated.

‘Okay,’ Ivyanne lowered her hands and turned back to Adele. ‘I really am sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ Adele let her go and smiled grimly. ‘My fiancé is always underfoot.’

Fiancé? Pintang hadn’t mentioned the engagement part. Ivyanne’s heart skipped at the word and she tried to ignore the way her stomach rolled unhappily. She really needed to get some air. The stink of bourbon was making her feel ill and dizzy.

‘Okay. Well I’ll see you back at the room later.’

‘Probably. Night Ivyanne. Uh...you did good.’

Relief rose to the surface in her cauldron of emotions. Was the trial over? Oh god if it was, that meant she was really going to stay here-in this place-with
him. It was a horrific yet giddily fantastical notion she couldn’t process yet.

‘Thanks.’ She murmured to Adele’s retreating back, before sweeping up her soft leather satchel and racing out of the bar. Her feet screamed at her to take it easy, but she didn’t slow her step until she had reached the shadowy area between the building and the pool, where she leaned, face first against a coconut tree and gasped for breath in the darkness.

She needed the ocean, and she needed it now.

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Lincoln was officially going insane. He couldn’t believe it. He’d heard it happened to people when they stayed too long at the same job, or worked too hard, or spent too long daydreaming ....all things he was guilty of. But this was a little bit more extreme then hearing voices or talking to himself....he’d actually just dropped an entire tray of glasses on some poor young girl because he’d hallucinated her to be someone else. And not just anyone else, and not just thought, either- Lincoln had been so convinced that the flustered waitress was his Ivanna, his mermaid- that he’d almost embraced her!

Lincoln swept up the glass, tuning out whatever Adele was talking about as she bustled around him, serving customers. He could not get Ivyanne’s face out of his mind, so he mentally scrutinized her, comparing her to Ivanna...god even the
names were similar! Was the universe messing with his head?

That wavy blonde hair, those full pink lips....those startling green eyes....he felt like he knew every feature of the new waitress’s face intimately. Sure she’d been a little taller than his love, and built slightly different-Ivanna had been a gangly sort of girl, and this one had the hips and breasts of a woman-he’d noticed
that the evening before. Her hair was a lot longer and lighter, and her skin more of a deep bronze, whereas Ivanna had been golden, like sunlight. But really, the similarities could not be completely dismissed as coincidence.

Oh no?
He questioned himself, almost instantly. What about the air hostess in Fiji?

Lincoln’s face heated up as he recalled mistaking the flight attendant for Ivanna, five years before. He’d been completely wrong then and he was wrong now. At least he hadn’t called out her name this time.

I am such an idiot! He thought. Ivyanne was clearly no more then seventeen or eighteen years old, max, yet Ivanna had to be closing in on thirty, just like him. That was his problem-he was so busy searching for her face on teenage girls, that he forgot to scrutinize the middle aged women he encountered, and really, that was the only place he would ever find her.

‘I’m such an idiot,’ Lincoln repeated, out loud this time.

‘Honey it’s okay,’ Adele said, patting him on the back. ‘After all, you’re the boss! Break whatever you want!’

Lincoln dumped the contents of the dustpan into the trash and smiled wryly at his girlfriend. He doubted she would take the accident so lightly if she knew that Ivyanne had been the one to drop them. ‘The new girl...did you check that she has her RSA? She doesn’t look old enough to be serving booze.’

‘I thought the same thing, but she’s got the paperwork. She’s eighteen and a half, which surprised me too. Looks like a kid, doesn’t she?’

‘Not from where I was sitting.’ Drawled Bobbitt the bar fly, looking up with a wicked grin. Their best customer was sitting with Dalton, who ran the local yacht club and Steve, one of their high-paying guests from Sydney who’d checked in that morning. ‘Best looking hire yet, guys. Will have to shake your father’s hand when he’s on next.’