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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 inexpensive 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.
    â€œWe’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.”
    Finnegan Lane loved the finer things in life. Actually, love wasn’t a strong enough word for his devotion to his own comfort and luxury— obsessed was more like it. My foster brother always had to have the best of everything, whether it was the latest Aston Martin car, a vintage wine, a decadent, outrageously expensive gourmet meal, or a slick new suit that fit him just so.
    â€œThe hotel has one of the best spas on the East Coast,” Bria continued. “As soon as I told Finn that, he made the reservation.”
    â€œOf course he did,” I muttered.
    Finn’s enjoyment of fine things extended to pampering himself as often as possible, and he was secure enough in his masculinity to indulgein everything from manicures to seaweed facials to full-body massages. Sometimes I thought Finn was more of a girl than I was.
    A valet came over, took the convertible key from Bria, and opened the trunk for a bellman, who started putting our luggage onto a large brass cart. The bellman huffed a little when he lifted out my suitcase, and it thumped down onto the cart with an audible clink-clink-clink , like I’d filled it with loose change that was rattling around inside. His eyebrows drew together, and he looked at me, obviously wondering what I had in my suitcase that made it so heavy.
    â€œMy lucky golf clubs,” I chirped in a bright voice. “Both sets. I like to be prepared.”
    I’d never played golf a day in my life, and I had no intention of starting while we were here. Although I wasn’t above using one of the clubs to bludgeon someone to death, if the situation called for it.
    The bellman shrugged and moved to get the next bag. Behind his back, Bria pulled down her sunglasses and narrowed her eyes at me in suspicion, but I just gave her a serene smile. If my sister thought that I would leave my silverstone knives and the other tools of my bloody, violent trade back home just because we’d come to the beach for a few days, well, she didn’t know me at all.
    The thought depressed me more than it should have.
    Finn had put our suite for tonight in Bria’s name, so she handled checking in