Her eyes were trained on me with such intensity that I suddenly had a creeping suspicion that if I said no that I would be wielding a gauntlet I had no intention of throwing.
“Okay,” I said uneasily. “As long as you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” she said with a quick cold snap of a smile, and then she turned and left.
Alone in my cabana, I showered and towel-dried my hair. Then with some trepidation, I opened the armoire and began exploring. Cashmere and chiffon and silk—these were fabrics I had written about, but had never worn. I fought the slight thrill that tugged at me as I selected a green silk dress and put it on. I pulled my hair back into a tight bun at the nape of my neck, slipped on some strappy black heels, and headed up to the house.
Everyone was gathered in the music room when I arrived, looking divine and drinking green cocktails out of sparkling crystal glasses. Aspen, who looked smashing in a little black dress and an Audrey Hepburn tiara, came over when she saw me, her eyes lit up by the fairy lights strung from the ceiling and leading out to the patio.
“Look at you,” she said, giving me a cheeky nudge. “You clean up nice.”
“You too,” I said. “What are you drinking?”
“They’re called malevolent pixies. Dorian invented them. They’re on the sideboard. Go grab one.”
Waving a quick greeting to the others, I started to make my way over to the cocktails, but got waylaid by a tray of the mostdelightful-looking mini sandwiches—what appeared to be some kind of potato omelet crowned by a vibrant orange pepper. I picked one, and when I bit into it, it was like an explosion of flavors, the potato, egg, oil, and spices combining in such a way as to far exceed the sum of their parts.
I had a few cocktails, which is more than I was used to, and soon the evening devolved into charades, at which I did not excel, and finally that disbanded, and we all ended up on the patio smoking clove cigarettes like dumb teenagers from a bygone era. I was leaning against the balustrade tipsily laughing with Finn when I began to feel eyes on me. Turning, I saw Lexi sitting at a table shooting daggers at my back. Shivering a little, I tried to ignore it, but when Finn went back inside and I saw that Lexi was still seated in the same spot, I decided to go over and talk to her.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked, setting my drink down before she could answer.
“Please,” she said, sitting up straight and trying to reaffix her hair.
Although she still looked beautiful, she looked deeply sad, and I wondered why she seemed so unhappy so much of the time.
“Are you worried about Isabelle?” I asked. “You must be. With everything that has happened in the area, that girl who was mauled and whatnot.” I lifted my glass to take a sip.
“Or the girl who ran away,” she said curtly.
“Excuse me?” I said, pausing before the rim touched my lips. “What girl who ran away? I’m talking about Sabine Étienne, the girl from the village who was killed by a wild animal.”
Suddenly she locked eyes with me. “Have you ever read ‘Bisclavret’?”
I shifted around in my seat, noticeably uncomfortable. “Sure, it’s one of the first werewolf stories.”
“Then you know it. A woman runs off with a knight because her husband is a werewolf. Who can blame her? Maybe that’s what happened here. Maybe the girl’s fiancé was a werewolf.”
“I think we can safely assume that he wasn’t. Also, who are we talking about? Sabine Étienne was killed by a bear,” I said, but she just shrugged.
Not sure how to respond to this especially prickly version of Lexi that alcohol seemed to bring out, I excused myself, but as I was leaving the patio, I turned and saw that she was still staring at me, that same fixed intensity in those haunting eyes.
The others were now gathered around the piano caterwauling and swaying back and forth. Finn tried to call me over, but I held up a finger as if to say I would be there to join in a minute, though I had no intention whatsoever of doing so. Instead, I decided to hide for a bit, so I slipped through the house to the exterior walkway that led to the library. By this point, I’d searched the library as much as I could without drawing undue attention, but I felt emboldened to try once more.
Maybe it was the liquor, but the place felt especially magical to me that night. The warm caramel glow of the lamps brought out the soft red tint of the wood, and the vast array of books, instead of feeling overwhelming like they did some days, created the impression of endless possibility and an expandable sense of time. Slowly I walked the room, looking for nooks and crannies, anything that might be large enough to conceal the artifact. I pulled out a book here and there to make sure there was nothing behind it, but there never was. On a lark, I pulled out a copy of Linnaeus’sPhilosophia Botanica.
It was a beautiful copy, and momentarily I wondered if Icould just borrow it and sneak back down to my cabana without causing a fuss. I could hear them up there now performing a terrible rendition of Steve Miller’s “The Joker.” Maybe the party was over for me.
I was just starting to replacePhilosophia Botanicawhen I noticed something familiar on the shelf—the book with the blazing sun on the cover. Isabelle had pointed to it in my dream. I walked over and grabbed it off the shelf.Ficcionesby Jorge Luis Borges. It turned out to be a first edition. Nice. I thumbed through it briefly, then replaced it before heading back out of the library and sneaking off down to my cabana.
The night was still lovely out, and I was humming Steve Miller against my will when I reached my cabana and froze. My door was open, a shadow cast onto the stones outside. I crept quietly forward, slowly making my way until I was able to see through the opening.
It was Dorian, standing by my bed, examining the box I’d found in the storeroom. Surprise quickly turned to anger as I stormed into the cabana, slamming the door open. He startled, nearly dropping the box.
“Robin,” he said, looking guilty.
I noticed he’d draped his jacket over the back of my desk chair. “I see you’re making yourself comfortable.”
“You’re angry,” he said, taking a step back. “I’m sorry if this looks bad, but I didn’t come in here to snoop, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
