The only time I’d felt remotely relaxed this whole trip had been in Poe’s arms this afternoon, and even George, who never had any compunction about hooking up, knew that was a mistake. Not that it mattered; it was over now. The whole thing had been ill-advised, on both of our parts. Whatever there was between Poe and myself, it was built on antagonism, not affection. Not even lust.
Well, okay, a little bit of lust.
But that was the point Clarissa had been trying to make. Like it or not, I was on the rebound. The last thing I should be doing is jumping into a relationship with a guy I’d never even liked. Was I trying to prove something? To Brandon? To myself?
I gathered what was left of my self-possession and walked back to the compound. The light had changed during the time I’d spent in the cabin, and the sun lay low in the sky. Twilight was coming soon. One full day down, five more to go. What a trip this was turning out to be.
Because of the heat in the tomb, all the members eschewed robes in favor of street clothes. Between the Hawaiian shirts, folding chairs, and sound of crickets beyond the flimsy doors, it was tough to approach the proceedings with the same air of sobriety and importance we maintained in New Haven.
And yet, we called the meeting to order. There weren’t enough chairs for all of us, so the seats mostly went to the more senior patriarchs. Beyond that, it was first come, first served.
Poe stood by the far wall, right next to the china hutch. I stood where it was least likely for my eyes to fall on him. I had no interest in spending the next half hour constantly checking to see if he was glancing in my direction and getting depressed if he wasn’t.
No more boys. What a waste of my time. I kept deciding that, and then kept falling back into the trap. But this time, it would stick.
“Didn’t you take pictures of the destruction?” one of the patriarchs asked. (For the record, Gehry was not present, despite the summons for all society members to come to the tomb.)
“Why?” Clarissa was asking. “Do you plan to call the cops and file an incident report? I thought we kept barbarian police out of society matters.”
“As proof that what you say happened was what happened.”
A good eight jaws dropped.
“Half a dozen people here can tell you exactly what it looked like,” Clarissa scoffed.
“If you’d gotten your butts over there, you could have seen for yourself,” Kevin added.
“Your club seems to get into an awful lot of trouble,” said Frank Myer, husband of the much-maligned Kadie. “How convenient is it that intruders broke onto the island and only mangled your stuff?”
“That would be awfully convenient, wouldn’t it?” Jenny asked. “Because if it wasn’t them, I can think of one barbarian on this island who owes me a new laptop.” She dumped the remains of hers onto the table, letting mangled bits of plastic, wires, and screws clatter around and roll off the edges.
“Are you accusing my wife of something?” Frank replied. “Because to be perfectly honest, she would have some choice things to say about your behavior to her this afternoon, after we were so good as to let you use our boat.”
“Settle down,” said another patriarch. “Nobody is accusing anyone of anything.”
“Speak for yourself, old man,” Demetria said.
“He said, settle down,” Poe said in a voice that commanded the room’s attention. “This is not the way that knights of Persephone address one another, on Cavador Key or off it. Now, it’s clear that someone vandalized the women’s cabin this afternoon, sometime after the knights returned from their snorkeling trip. I surveyed the damage right after we discovered it and it’s extensive, not only to the island’s property, but also to the knights’ personal effects. We need to find out who’s responsible.”
“Easier said than done,” George said.
“Furthermore, our position on barbarian visitors is very clear. They are here by invitation of the society only. If they are at any time making a knight feel uncomfortable, they will not be allowed to remain, no matter what another knight or patriarch might say about it. That’s what our oaths demand.”
“Fine,” said Frank. “We’ll leave tomorrow. With our boat.” A few of the other patriarchs looked stricken by the prospect of losing access to the yacht. (Didn’t bother me.)
“You’ll do what you need to do,” Poe said. “Whether that’s leaving or making it clear to your barbarian wife that she needs to show more respect to her hosts. All of them.”
This was being said in front of patriarchs twice his age. Who were listening to him. I stared in shock at Poe, but Malcolm hardly looked fazed. Was this how it was back when Poe was secretary of D176? Had people just shut up and obeyed him when he spoke? No wonder he couldn’t stand me when we met. I’d never treated him with anything approaching this level of respect.
Poe was still talking. “I spent the last two hours going over every inch of this island, looking for any evidence that we had visitors. I didn’t find anything new from the earlier sweep that D177 did. But there are signs. It makes sense that only the women’s cabin would have been affected by a raid. It’s isolated from the others, and it was empty this afternoon, while the central compound was filled with people. The only other vulnerable area would be the guesthouse, and I spoke to the inhabitants there.”
“You can say his name, you know,” Demetria grumbled.
Poe ignored her. “They saw nothing unusual. But at least one knight saw strangers on the island early this afternoon.” He nodded to Clarissa, who looked vindicated. “I also spoke at length to Saltzman, who is prepared now to give a report of the recent barbarian activity on the island, as well as lay out what he feels are necessary precautions until we get to the bottom of this.” He motioned to Malcolm, who tapped thrice, once, and twice on the door to the tomb. Salt entered.
Now I was trying to catch Poe’s eye. Intruders on the island? What was he playing at? He knew as well as I did that Clarissa hadn’t seen anyone but us on the crescent beach. And yet, he was going to indulge in this whole fantasy of visitors?
Was he trying to placate Frank? That didn’t make any sense, given what Poe had just said to him about keeping his wife in line. And yet, Poe had no reason to lie. Deny, maybe, but to promote the “intruders” idea? It was Kadie, naturally. We all knew it.
Salt’s report was the size of War and Peace. Great. Folks started settling in for the long haul, and I was impressed by everyone’s patience. I honestly think it’s the most fun the caretaker ever had, explaining to a roomful of trapped, if not rapt, society members about how he’d been roused twice on the night of January 27th by a series of strange green lights in the sky.
In the middle of his report on the first week in February, I lifted my head to see Poe looking at me. When he was sure he had my attention, he mimed taking a plate down off the shelf and breaking it over his knee. I stifled a surprised laugh. Where had that come from?
He held my gaze for one moment more, then morphed back into Secretary Poe, serious as a study hall proctor, paying attention to Salt’s report as if the dead bird the caretaker had found on his front stoop the morning of February 24th was indeed the portent of doom he claimed it to be.
At long last, the old man wrapped it up and we spilled out of the stuffy stucco box and headed to dinner, as famished as death row inmates with a last minute reprieve.
“Well, that was long and pointless,” Demetria said.
“Yeah. At this point, our cabin could have been trashed by Kadie Myer, Kurt Gehry, conspiracy theorist nuts, aliens, marauding pirates, or just really bitter squirrels.” Jenny sighed. “Who decided this trip was a good idea?”