What she sees in them scares her.
Poppy
One Hour, Twenty-Four Minutes To Impact
Poppy and Lillith are wearing their masks as they enter the intimate Hecate Lounge for the Moonlight & Mentalism Soiree. Avi lurks hidden in the crowds behind them.
The lights are dim, and the atmosphere is mysterious, magical. Poppy—already reeling from the bombshell Lillith dropped on her—feels as though she’s now stepping fully into an alternate reality, where nothing will ever again be as it seems.
White linen drapes small tables. Candles flicker in jars. A single black orchid has been placed in a vase on each table. Heavy velvet drapes the walls, a deep indigo in color and embossed with tiny glittering stars and moons. A raised stage has been positioned at the front. On it, a table covered in black silk, and a large crystal ball in a clawlike stand. LED lighting blooms and softens and shifts like clouds inside the glass ball.
Most of the guests are arriving in glittering evening gowns or dress suits—some men sport bow ties. Faces are obscured by the silver, gold, and bronze masks of their choosing. Other guests have removed their masks and move between tables, drinks in hand, chatting, mingling. All appear a little unsteady on their feet as the big ship rolls and lists side to side.
A pianist plays a melancholic tune on a baby grand, accompanied by a harpist and a percussionist.
Outside the moon hangs low over the caldera, reflecting her silvery light on the surging waves and rising whitecaps as the wind continues to mount and whip devilishly around the volcanic basin surrounded by ragged cliffs.
Poppy can feel a distinct increase in the side-to-side movement of theBlack Orchid. It’s as though the whole ship is breathing gently, awakening, alive. And beneath Poppy’s feet is a low rumbling vibration as theOrchid’s thrusters engage and try to hold her steady—a grumbling soft bass note that thrums beneath the music. It feeds an indefinable sense of foreboding to the atmosphere in the lounge. It tightens the tension in her body.
On their way to the lounge, the captain announced over the PA that the winds would likely continue to mount during the night, and if conditions did not calm enough by morning, taking guests ashore with small boats would be unsafe, and the shore excursion might need to be suspended. Captain Bellini reminded guests the caldera was too deep for traditional anchoring, and that theOrchidwould moor via dynamic positioning—held in place by computer-controlled thrusters. She cautioned there was a chance they might have to move out of the caldera completely, and cancel the Santorini stop altogether.
If this happens, Poppy will miss her flight to Athens, and her connection to London. But even if the seas do calm, she’s not sure Avi will allow her to leave anyway. She’s certain of nothing at this moment. She’s dazed. Processing. Moving like a zombie and following Lillith’s orders that she attend the soiree for reasons unknown to her.
They’re shown to a table near the front, close to the stage. Patrick is already there in elegant black trousers and a crisp white dress shirt with a bow tie. His silver mask rests on the table in front of him, and he has a cocktail in hand.
As they arrive, he rises and pulls out a chair. First for Lillith, then Poppy.
Lillith places her silver diamanté clutch on the table, then carefully lowers herself into the chair. The diamanté pieces glitter in the candlelight like a handful of stars. Poppy focuses on the clutch as she takes a seat.
She never did get an answer to her question.
And him? What did you mean, finish with A.G.? And RIP? What now?
She did, however, glimpse Avi hand Lillith a stiff zippered pouch right before they all left the suite. Lillith surreptitiously slipped the pouch into that clutch. Poppy can see the shape of it beneath the fabric and shimmering bits of crystal.
“What can I get you ladies?” Patrick asks.
Poppy glances at him. He still looks relaxed. Happy even. It’s a stark contrast to her own roiling emotions and the devastating weight of the “truth” that simmers between her and Lillith. He knows nothing about it. Lillith confirmed this. She also explained to Poppy that Patrick is not Angus’s biological son. It explains a lot, Poppy thinks. About why he refuses Angus’s money. His words spoken in Turkey run through her mind again, also making more sense now.
We had a tiff—sparked by this whole ruse to get me onto the ship and under Lillith’s nose, and I gave her an ultimatum of sorts. It’s up to her whether she returns or not. Perhaps she’ll still decide there’s some advantage in it for her. But the longer she’s gone, the more clearheaded I think I’m becoming about the whole situation. I don’t want her back.
She removes her mask and settles into her chair as a new thought strikes hard:Sheis more of an heir to the Lillith McGregor empire than Patrick McGregor is. She’s not sure how to digest this.
“I’m having a boulevardier,” he offers.
“G&T for me,” Lillith says.
“I’ve never tried a boulevardier,” Poppy says.
“Like a Negroni,” he says. “But with bourbon or rye in place of gin.”
“I’ll try one.” Nothing else is familiar in her world anymore, so why the hell not?
He summons a server as Poppy glances around the theater. She sees Dr. Marsh and Sarah, also at a table near the front. Carter is not with them.
Gideon glances suddenly in her direction, as if sensing her attention. His tired words spoken in Turkey beneath the olive tree come back to her.
You know what, Poppy, I’m going to ask that you wait for the book. Given the revelatory and sensitive nature of my recent discoveries, my publisher and agent and I have just signed a mutual nondisclosure agreement. Plus an embargo. I’m actually no longer at liberty to talk about it ...
