Map of Fates (11 page)

W
e managed to get back into the hotel without anyone noticing. I changed into a flowered sundress and met Lydia and Cole and my father in the lobby like we'd planned the night before. My father led us to the hotel's outdoor cafe overlooking the Grand Canal, where rows of gondolas were tied to posts, their sleek silhouettes bobbing lazily with the breeze. My foot wouldn't stop tapping under the table.

Lydia settled into the wicker chair next to me and put on her sunglasses as a waiter poured us tiny cups of thick espresso. I stirred two sugar cubes into mine. “We'd better eat quickly if we plan to be in Beijing by tomorrow,” Lydia said, scanning her menu.

“Beijing?” I squinted at my father through the morning sun. “I thought Johannesburg was next. The Konings.” That was who I'd hoped to postpone for a few days. Until after Greece.

“Yes.” My father shifted. Across the table, Cole downed his espresso in one gulp. “There's been a change of plans.”

I looked at Lydia, but she was staring intently at her menu. “What kind of change of plans?” I said.

My father cleared his throat. “In light of recent events, our time
line needs to change. The Wang family in Beijing. The Fredericks in Washington. And that will be all.”

I put my cup back down in its saucer with a clatter. “What about the other families?” He couldn't mean what I thought he meant.

“We won't be visiting the others. After meeting these final two, we'll take a day to consider the options, and then you'll choose one.”

The coffee turned bitter in my throat. “You said I had two
weeks.
It's only been five days.”

My father reached into his briefcase and pulled out a newspaper. He set it on the table in front of me.
Murders Around the Globe: Coincidence or Conspiracy?
said the headline. “This is getting out of hand. There isn't time to consider families who aren't real options.”

I tried to pick up my espresso cup again, but my hands were shaking too hard. “But what about my clues? Finding the tomb? Saving my
mom
?” I looked around for Jack, but he was posted at the entrance to the restaurant, too far away to hear.

Lydia was still avoiding my gaze. I tried not to be hurt that she hadn't warned me about this.

My father refolded the newspaper. “I
do
hope we'll be able to get your mother back once the mandate is fulfilled. Since your clues haven't produced anything concrete, this appears to be the only way.”

The clues
were
producing something concrete. I just couldn't tell them about it—at least not until my mom was safe. A
vaporetto
passed with a low hum and the quiet splashing of propellers. “I'm not coming, then,” I said.

My father took off his sunglasses. “Avery.”

“No.” If they were really going to do this, I had to get to Greece as soon as possible. “If I don't want to get married, and you're not even going to let me meet all the candidates, why bother pretending you care who or what I choose?”

Lydia finally spoke up. “You'll like Alex Frederick,” she pleaded. At least I could hear the guilt in her voice. “He's really nice. And—”

I shook my head. Maybe he was, but that wasn't the point. And I could no longer afford to take the Saxons' feelings into consideration.

“You can go to Beijing and Washington alone.” I injected a little extra venom into the words so they wouldn't question my motives. “Colette LeGrand's invited me to spend some time on her yacht, and I'm going. I'll be there until you get back.”

“No,” Lydia said. “Even if you don't come with us, you being alone is too dangerous—”

“Jack will come with me.” I pushed back from the table, and my father started to get up, too. I held out one hand. “Just stop. You're getting exactly what you want. I won't even be there to argue while you decide what to do with my life.”

I stalked out of the restaurant and didn't look back, not wanting to see the hurt on my sister's face or the disappointment on my father's. We'd better be right about Delphi. It was my last chance.

• • •

A few hours later, Jack and I were on Colette's private plane. The second we touched down, three missed calls pinged on my phone, the number showing up only as
UNAVAILABLE
. The Order. As we taxied to a stop, I put the phone on speaker and called back, Jack tense in the seat beside me.

“I was beginning to think you were ignoring my calls.” Scarface. I hadn't heard his voice for a while. They hadn't called since we were in Paris—it had just been those texts.

Jack leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“I'm not ignoring anything. We've found some clues,” I said. “We're looking into the next one right now.”

“Where are you?”

I met Jack's eyes. They probably had ways of finding out where we were even if we didn't tell them. I didn't want to lie and give them any reason to take it out on my mom. “Greece,” I said.

“Hmm. You'd better hope it's lucky for you. The Commander is getting restless.”

I huffed out a breath. “I need to talk to my mom,” I said. “That was part of the deal.”

There was some shuffling, and then a voice. “Avery?”

My breath caught, and I clawed for Jack's hand. “Mom. I love you. I—”

“That's enough,” Scarface said, and a door slammed on the other end of the phone.

I gulped back a tightness in my throat. She was okay. “I'm not going to marry anyone,” I said suddenly. “Killing those boys is just making the Circle more determined to find you. It's not helping.”

Scarface chuckled. “You have seven days.” With that, he hung up.

• • •

Last chance,
my brain kept repeating as we walked through the Athens airport.
Last chance.
My mom was alive and okay, for now. According to the Order we had seven days, but I only had four until I was expected to do my Circle duty.

Elodie and Stellan and Luc had arrived minutes after we did. Walking out of the airport, we passed a magazine stand, and I realized exactly why Colette had been hiding.
Colette LeGrand's Pain,
said one of the headlines in English. All the magazines had paparazzi photos of her coming out of an apartment building, her heart-shaped face drawn and sad and framed by her famous tumble of auburn curls, looking straight into the camera like the photographer was the one who had killed her boyfriend.

“Are you sure she's okay with us being here?” I felt bad having to bring her into our schemes so soon after her boyfriend's death.

“I think she wants the distraction,” Luc said. “She's been all alone, hiding out before she has to make an appearance at Cannes.”

I nodded. It wasn't like we had much of a choice, anyway.

The Mediterranean was a color of aqua I didn't realize water could be in real life. Colette's yacht was in a marina near Athens, where dozens of white boats bobbed on the sparkling water, backed by whitewashed cliffs.

Colette greeted us from under a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses, her hair as wild as ever, but her smile noticeably dimmed. She ushered us up the gangplank and onto the boat, where she'd arranged a spread of cheese and fruit and bread and olives that covered every surface in the yacht's small, well-appointed kitchen. She must have had every grocery store in Greece on speed dial.

Luc sat down at the booth table, digging in like he hadn't eaten for weeks. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust, and Colette grabbed my hand.

“Come in,
cherie,
” she said, wrapping me in a hug. I was surprised again, even though I'd met her before, to realize she wasn't any taller than me. And just like I'd thought when we'd met in Istanbul, despite being one of the world's biggest movie stars and on the top of every men's magazine's Hottest List year after year, she was soft and warm and welcoming and almost momlike in a way that nearly brought tears to my eyes, not least because
she
was the one
we
should be comforting. It was only then I realized I was expecting to see blame in her eyes, or at least that horrible hope. But she just pulled away and looked me up and down. “Eat. You look thin. What have these ruffians been feeding you?”

She thrust a plate in my hands—she must have also bought out the Anthropologie kitchen department—and perched on a bar stool, watching us all anxiously. Last time I'd seen her, she'd been so relaxed, joking around with her boyfriend Liam even though the Order was attacking Circle members all over the globe.

Later that night, they'd gotten to Liam, too. And Colette hadn't escaped unscathed. When their car's brakes had gone out and the gas tank exploded, she'd gotten out alive, but the lace tunic she wore exposed the angry red scar on her neck and shoulder.

“Thanks,” I said, filling the plate with fruit. Jack, Stellan, and Elodie gradually wandered over, too, picking at the spread.

“Lucien told me a little, but what exactly are you all doing in Greece?” Colette said in her soft accent.

Elodie glanced at Jack and me, and I shrugged. Just by coming here, we'd obviously decided to trust her.

Jack told our story, and Stellan added details until we got to the part about Delphi.

Colette had taken it all in surprisingly easily. “What's the plan?” she asked. “What can I do?”

“Get us to Delphi,” Jack said.

“The captain of the boat is just up in the village. I'll make a call.” Colette disappeared and was back a few minutes later. “Done. We'll be outside Delphi by morning. Now what?”

Elodie unzipped her bag and pulled out a bathing suit. “Now come sit out on the deck and let's enjoy Greece.”

• • •

A few hours later, I set my knife on a lounge chair on the upper deck and angrily flicked back the strands of hair that had come loose from my ponytail. Jack and I had decided to take the free afternoon to
train. I had a scrape on my arm that was smarting from sweat, and I'd narrowly missed giving Jack a black eye with my elbow.

As usual, the knife training was not going well. It was like my hands weren't meant to hold it. The second I tried a move, I'd drop it, or fumble, or forget everything I'd learned about blocking and leave myself open to attack.

I leaned on the railing, watching the wake behind the boat as we chugged toward Delphi. Elodie, Colette, and Luc were sunbathing on the next deck down. Elodie looked even taller and thinner than usual in her sleek black one-piece, and Colette was her opposite, a modern-day Marilyn Monroe, curvy and soft in a white crochet bikini, her hair pulled back in a boho headband and topped with sunglasses big enough to cover her entire face. She looked more relaxed already, and I was glad we were at least able to do that for her. But it wasn't them that made me laugh out loud. Luc lounged on a chair between the girls, gesturing animatedly with a cigarette. I had forgotten how many European men wore Speedos instead of swim trunks, and Luc was wearing a tiny one, turquoise with white flowers. If I was seeing correctly, the earpieces of his mirrored sunglasses matched.

“Oh wow,” I said.

Colette heard me, and waved. “Come down! We only have a few more minutes of good sun.”

“I don't have a bathing suit,” I called, and then turned to Jack. “Do you?”

He shook his head and gestured to Luc. “And I would not be able to compete with
that
if I did.”

I'd seen Jack with no shirt on, and flowered Speedo or no, Luc had nothing on him. But I didn't say that.

“We should go in,” I said instead. I shoved my knife back into the makeshift sheath I'd made of cardboard and stuck it in my bag. “I have to call Alistair and Lydia back.” My father and sister had both left me messages earlier. I couldn't tell whether they genuinely felt bad about our fight, or were worried about me, or were just trying to make sure I hadn't run away. I tried not to care, but I couldn't help hoping they hadn't given up on me. If we found the tomb—
when
we found it—everything could be different.

That made me remember something I'd been meaning to ask Jack for days. More important stuff had kept crowding it out. “Dev Rajesh—” I bit my lip. If talking about every dead person we knew was going to be this difficult, I was in for a hard time. “Dev said something, at dinner the other day. About an
Oliver
Saxon.”

Jack, who was picking his jacket up off the railing, stiffened. “What did he say?”

“He just mentioned the name, and I didn't get a chance to ask any more.”

Jack's face had gone blank as a mask. “It doesn't matter. It's not something you need to worry about.” His words were clipped.

“But—”

“I'm going inside. I think Elodie wanted to do dinner soon.”

The cabin door swung shut behind him before I could respond, and I was left trying to talk to empty air. What was that?