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“Oh, youtotallyhave our permission! We’d be honored! Which moves do you mean? I can make a list for you, if you want. I think it would be great if in your next book, Felicity is working on a back handspring—”

“Wow, folks, wasn’t that great?”

We were all startled by a man’s voice coming from the speakers on either side of the stage. I looked over to see Garrett standing in the stage lights, his hair looking wind-tossed and a bit sweaty from the island humidity—probably because he was wearing a cape, and the temperature was in the seventies.

“Let’s give those girls another round of applause, shall we?” Garrett beamed as everyone in the audience, looking confused, stared at him, then finally let out a polite patter of applause. “That was really great. For those of you who don’t recognize me in this amazing ensemble.” He did a full turn to show off the pirate outfit and cape. “I’m Garrett Newcombe, bestselling—and award-winning—author of the Dark Magic School series for kids.”

A number of children who were in the audience let out appreciative little shrieks and darted forward, eager to push through the crowd so that they could see the author of their favorite new series doing—well, whatever it was Garrett was about to do.

“Thank you,” Garrett gushed with what I felt was completelyfake modesty as these same children sank to their knees in front of the stage. “Thank you so much. And thank you, too, to the board and staff of the Little Bridge Island Book Festival for hosting such an amazing event tonight. Are you all having as much fun as I am?”

The kids kneeling in front of Garrett exploded into appreciative cheers, and that same sentiment was echoed around us—except by Bernadette, who’d come weaving through the crowd toward us, Kellyjean and Jerome trailing not far behind her.

“What the hell is he doing up there?” Bernadette hissed into my ear as soon as she reached my side.

“I have no idea,” I whispered back. “I thought you would know. Is this part of his shtick?”

“How should I know?” she asked, slipping into a chair beside me. “I thought magic was his shtick.”

“So if his shtick is magic, why is he dressed in a pirate costume?”

“Oh, hon, that’s not a pirate costume.” Kellyjean sank into one of the chairs near us and peeled off her shoes. She was wearing her jeweled sandals, and once again they were rubbing her feet the wrong way. “He’s dressed as Professor Eurynomos, the hero of his books. Haven’t y’all read them? My kids can’t get enough of ’em, even though I don’t approve of any books that glorify—”

“Shhh!” One of the children sitting closest to us put his fingers to his lips and shushed Kellyjean.

Frannie, her eyebrows raised, looked mockly offended.“Well! I guess we’ve been told off. I certainly hope this doesn’t take long, though. There’s a Knicks game tonight, and I don’t want to miss the tip-off.”

Grinning, I caught Will’s eye. He grinned back. I felt a jolt of white-hot desire shoot through me, and quickly looked away.

Oh, this was not good. This was not good at all.

“Tonight,” Garrett was going on, up on the stage, “I’m going to introduce all of you to the mystical art of dematerialization—or, as some of you may be more familiar with, teleportation. But in order for me to do so, I’m going to need a volunteer to assist me.”

The hand of each child in the audience shot up. “Me!” every single one of them cried. “Me, me! Oh, please, pick me!”

“Hmmm.” Garrett looked out at the dozen or so children practically convulsing in front of him in their eagerness to be chosen. “I think not. I need someone very special to assist me. Someone highly skilled in the psychic sciences. Someone whobelieves. And while all of you children seem delightful, that someone is...” Garrett began scanning the audience on the deck, his index finger extended so he could point out the person he sought.

“Oh, no,” Kellyjean muttered as that finger swung in our direction. “I’m not havin’ anything to do with this. Dark magic is wrong, and he knows good and well I would never—”

“You,”Garrett cried, his roving finger pointing directly at me.

The Momentby Will Price

“And now, by the power invested in me,” said the preacher, “I declare you man and wife. Johnny, you may kiss your bride.”

Never in my life had I heard sweeter words. And never in my life had I seen a sweeter sight than the face of my new wife, Melanie, as she turned to me, eyes radiant and shining, ruby lips parted in a smile and ready for our first kiss as a married couple.

At least until a voice rang out from the back of the church:

“She’ll be no bride of yours, Johnny!”

I turned just in time to see her husband, alive and well, burst through the chapel doors, a gold-plated pistol in his hand.

When the shot rang out, I knew there was only one thing I could do—only one way I could make things right. I threw myself in front of the bullet he meant for Melanie.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Me?” I looked around, certain Garrett was pointing at someone else.