Of course she did.
She sits there in the moonlight with her silver Fury face, the storm raging about her. An awning rips free. A table overturns and cartwheels across the deck, followed by a chair. They slam into the railing as the ship tilts hard to port.
She doesn’t care.
Lanterns whip. More strings come loose. A live wire spits and sparks.
She takes no action. She’s numb. She just sits and waits. For her punishment—almost calling it down upon herself.
She knows this is what Furies do—make guilt incarnate so that it swirls apart from you and terrorizes you. Harpies can drive the guilty to self-destruction. They follow you into the afterlife.
Another sharp gusts lashes across the deck. TheBlack Orchidpitches violently. A trellis beam tears free, whirling through the air. It hits Roshaan across the head.
For a moment she holds upright. Then she smiles beneath her mask as hot blood pours down her face.
She hears Dr. Marsh’s words from his talk.
Many of them started life as “good girls.” Good students. Kind, friendly, sociable. Decent families. In my opinion a lot of them would never havecrossed legal lines—let alone become killers—had fate not crossed their paths with a true devil.
She hears her father’s voice.
She’s such a good girl, our Roshaan.
She slumps sideways on the bench. In a puddle of silver moonlight. Her mask still on.
... such a good girl, our Roshaan.
Carter
Impatience nips at Carter. The Moonlight & Mentalism Soiree is well underway and his grandfather still hasn’t yet returned to fetch him like he said he would. He peers out the windows. The ship is rolling more. The sea is rougher, the wind huge. It makes the lights on the black cliffs of Santorini flicker, and the moonlight catches the gleam of whitecaps on waves.
Excitement quickens through him as he studies the Santorini lights. It fuels his impatience. His dad will be on the island by now. He’s staying in a hotel on those cliffs tonight, and they’ll meet him at the dock in the morning. He cannot wait to tell Dad about their trip so far, and show him his notebook of suspicious happenings. Maybe Dad is the one adult he can still rely on. After all, he flew all this way. For him and Mom.
The ship pitches Carter toward the window. He braces his hands against the glass, and a flash of concern darts through him. The captain announced over the PA that the stormy weather would increase during the night, and if the seas didn’t calm by sunrise, the shore excursion would be suspended. Which would make it difficult to connect with his dad.
Suddenly this worries Carter. A lot. And he doesn’t want to be alone in the suite thinking about it. He glances at the clock. His disillusionment in his gramps returns. He’s probably not coming. He’s probably somewhere talking about stupid serial killers.
Carter grabs his Satyr mask and puts it on. He studies his reflection in the mirror and feels a fresh little thrill. The mask might look likebeaten silver, but it’s as light as cardboard, and it totally transforms him into a funny and evil-looking little sprite. Yes. This is good. He’ll wear this mask, find the Hecate Lounge, where the show is happening, and sneak a peek inside on his own.
He knows the lounge is one deck down, toward the back of the ship. He checked the ship layout. Two side doors lead from the outside deck into the foyer.
Carter stuffs his notebook into his backpack and shrugs into the straps. He leaves the room and heads for the stairwell. Someone might question him if he takes the elevators. The stairs open onto the aft part of the deck, which wraps around the ship. It’s narrower and darker there. More shadows. Fewer people.
Carter hurries down one flight. His nerves sharpen at the hollow echo his shoes make in the empty stairwell. He uses a side door to pop out onto the deck. Wind blasts him and he feels sea spray. It’s colder than he expected. Darker. Especially peering through the slits of his mask. The deck is shiny-wet from spray. The swing and roll of the ship feel even more marked here, near the stern. And the engines sound louder. The rumbling and vibrations obscure other small sounds.
He creeps along the deck, hugging the wall, staying in the shadows, telling himself he’s Harry the Spy. He’s Sherlock. He’s on a top-secret mission. He’s brave.
The ship pitches again and he stumbles a little but catches himself against the wall. A crew member passes by. He looks at Carter in his mask, but just smiles and keeps moving. Carter waits a beat. The crew member disappears into the stairwell door. Carter creeps farther.
There are lights ahead, beyond the shadows cast by a lifeboat hanging from a davit. He remembers from hisBlack Orchid Passportlessons that the metal arms that swing lifeboats over the side of a ship are called davits.
He nears the lifeboat. The area is partially roped off, but suddenly Carter spots a faint blue-white glow in the shadows behind the lifeboat.
He stills. Watches.
The light glows brighter, then fades. It’s not a flashlight—too dim. More like a strange flickering glowworm in the dark. The ship lurches, and the glow briefly illuminates a thin vapor trail rising. Carter realizes it’s a man vaping.
Not just any man.
