“Come on, then.” Zoe set her wine down, held out her hands. “We’ll work on it. You do one of two things. Pretend nobody’s watching or pretend that this guy, this incredibly sexy guy, is watching. Either way, depending on your mood, you just let go.”

“How come girls always end up dancing with girls?” Malory wondered as she tried to get her hips to move independent of the rest of her body, as Zoe’s seemed to do.

“Because we’re better at it.”

“Actually,” Dana said, helping herself to a little tree of green grapes, “it’s a kind of social, sexual ritual. The female performs, tempts, and teases, the male observes, fantasizes, and selects. Or is selected. Jungle drums or the Dave Matthews Band, it comes down to the same thing.”

“Are you going to dance?” Malory asked her.

“Sure.” Popping one more grape, Dana got up. Hips and shoulders went into a sinuous rhythm as she moved toward Zoe. They slithered into a dance that was, to Malory’s mind, both sexy and free.

“Now I’m totally outclassed.”

“You’re doing fine. Loosen your knees. And speaking of rituals, I have some ideas. But . . .” Zoe grabbed her wine again. “I think we should have some more wine before I bring it up.”

“You can’t do that,” Dana complained. “I hate that. What’s the idea?” She took Zoe’s glass, had a hurried sip. “Look, I drank more. Tell me.”

“Okay. Let’s sit down.”

Remembering her role as hostess, Malory brought the wine and the tray of food to the coffee table. “If this ritual has anything to do with leg waxing, I need much more wine first.”

“No.” Zoe laughed. “But I have an almost painless technique with hot wax. I can give you a Brazilian without anyone shedding a tear.”

“A Brazilian?”

“Tidy up the bikini area. It leaves just a neat little strip so you can wear the tiniest thong without looking, well, unkempt.”

“Oh.” Instinctively Malory folded her hands over her crotch. “Not even if you use morphine and shackles.”

“Honest, it’s all in the wrist.” Zoe explained. “Well, so . . . back to what I was saying,” she continued. “I know we’ve all been reading and researching and trying to come up with theories and ideas to help Malory find the first key.”

“And you’ve both been great. Really. I just feel like I’m missing something, some little thing that could open it all up.”

“Maybe we’ve all missed something,” Zoe countered. “The legend itself. Mortal woman mates with Celtic god and becomes queen. Female power. She has three daughters. Female again. One of their guardians is a female.”

“Well, it is a fifty-fifty shot,” Dana pointed out. “Even for gods.”

“Wait. So when their souls are stolen and trapped by a man, it’s said that three mortals, mortal women, have to find and turn the keys.”

“Sorry, Zoe, I’m not following you. We already know all this.” Malory reached halfheartedly for a grape.