The island was far more than it had ever been before Mother left. And did she ever thank them? Not likely.

Though Mother had trusted her enough to take care of the Hinkley woman on her own. She supposed that was something.

Nadine Hinkley had been a thorn in their sides since her early years as a tomboyish brat. Even back then some of the ladies believed she might have been a lesbian, but Mavis had seen her court many a hapless male victim, like the spider and the fly. Every one of them an out-of-towner. No self-respecting Bay man would be caught dead with a slut like her. She lured them up to the loft above her hippy bookstore. They'd leave a brief time later reeking of patchouli and vaginal secretions. Brief enough for Mavis to consider the woman might be running a side business as a whore.

Still, they might have let her go quietly. They might have been satisfied watching her take that last ferry out of town to never return. Banishment would have sufficed. If only she hadn't lured Martin Savage into her parlor. If she hadn't used her feminine wiles to get back at Mother.

And the bitch had laughed in those final moments. Triumphant laughter. As if she'd beaten them. As if she'd won.

No matter. The deed was done. The woman was dead. What difference did it make if she'd found something amusing about death? Perhaps she'd seen it as a mercy. Women of loose morals trended toward self-harm and suicidal impulses. Perhaps she'd even gotten her rocks off.

The Cadillac rolled out of the car wash a vision of gleaming pink and white and American steel.

Beeeeep! Beeeeep! Beeeeep!

The infernal machine at the window demanded payment. The barrier wouldn't rise without a credit card, and Mavis had never found much use for them. What was wrong with coins and bills? Money you could touch? Plastic—no thank you. She preferred to keep her money close at hand, where she could see it. Where she could touch it.

She peered into the rearview, adjusting the wide brim of her hat until it was just so. Her cheeks were ruddy, the flesh around her jowls saggy. But her gray eyes were fierce. By all accounts, she was still a formidable woman, especially for her age.

With minimal effort she pushed her mind into the machine. These little tricks were simple. Machines weren't quite so complicated as animals, particularly not an entire herd. Simpler still than humans.

But even the simplest glammer required energy. She and the others would soon need to feed.

The screen flashed PAYMENT ACCEPTED, beeping incessantly as the barrier rose. She gripped the wide pink steering wheel and drove out of the lot.

Things were about to change. The boy had returned. He would have to be dealt with, whether Mother allowed it or not.

And this time, Mavis suspected Ruby might—she felt the old woman's power draining already, like a well bucket with a hole, as it had when the boy was under her roof the first time.