Aunt V smiled, pushing the contract forward. “I’m sure you’ve had countless wild thoughts since arriving. Don’t worry. You’re in excellent hands.”
Daisy signed.
“Excellent.” She tucked the document away. “Now—” She produced a small, satin drawstring sack, the fabric a deep champagne, embroidered with the number 1922 in delicate gold thread. “I’ll need any personal effects. Just for safekeeping.”
Daisy stared at the number again. Everywhere she turned, that number followed. It couldn’t be accidental. Come to think of it, not once had Aunt V called her by name.
Was she 1922?
A number?
A statistic?
Trust no one.
Aunt V’s smile was so compelling, Daisy had to remind herself that salesmen were real and even people with bad intentions could lie convincingly.
She thought of the locket in her pocket, glad she’d hidden it from view.
“I don’t have anything.”
“Just your phone, and any valuables you brought with you. No need to worry, my little doe. They’ll be stored in a private safe, and you’ll receive everything back on Sunday, in perfect condition.”
Daisy wanted to trust her, but logically she couldn’t. Not after what happened earlier. This woman worked for the same people as Dr. Tannhäuser. Her hand moved instinctively toward her hip, assuring her locket was still safely tucked away.
“Do I have to?”
“I’m afraid so,” Aunt V said, voice soft as down. “It’s a privacy issue. No phones are permitted past this point, I’m afraid. And we don’t want any personal items lost or stolen during the festivities. The Preserve grounds are extensive. Items could easily get…misplaced.”
The Preserve?
Was that where they were?
“I thought this place was called The White Swan.”
“It is.”
“But you said The Preserve.”
“That’s where The Feast of the Fallen is held. You go there tomorrow night, after The Becoming ceremonies.”
It all sounded so ritualistic.
Daisy withdrew her phone from her back pocket. She thought of Maryanne, who’d probably texted her a hundred times since yesterday, wondering where she’d gone.
Slowly, reluctantly, she dropped the phone into the open silk sack.
“Anything else? Jewelry? Keepsakes?”
The locket burned against Daisy’s hip. “No,” she lied. “Nothing else.”
If Aunt V doubted her, it didn’t show. She cinched the sack closed and tucked it away.
“Perfect. Now, for the schedule.” She withdrew another paper, this one printed with embossed gold text on white stock that shimmered like pearl. “Breakfast will be delivered at nine tomorrow morning. I strongly suggest you rest tonight. Tomorrow will be long, and your success depends on being fresh and energized.” She handed the program to Daisy and stood, moving toward the wet bar.
From a glassy white cabinet, she produced a small ceramic teacup and saucer, then turned on the glass kettle and shook a small packet of powder into the teacup. “Many tributes find it difficult to sleep on their first night. This will help.”
“What is it?” The fragrant powder carried a sweet, earthy aroma she could smell from her seat.
