“Whose business is it who I fuck?” Demetria asked from her corner. “And, by the way, it wasn’t even sex. It was just a couple of kisses—but that’s not the point.”

“Yeah? Tell us why Odile’s not here, then,” Clarissa said. “Maybe because it would be too awkward to stay here with you.”

“I don’t know. I’m hardly her keeper.” Demetria seemed to reflect upon how this might sound. “And you aren’t Jenny’s, Clarissa. She could do a lot worse than Harun. And has,” she added under her breath.

Jenny looked appalled. “I really don’t know why you keep saying that. I’m not dating Harun.”

Clarissa threw her hands up. “Amy, you tell them. Tell them what a mess it becomes.”

Oh, it was a mess all right, but not the way Clarissa thought.

“Or doing anything else with him, for that matter,” Jenny went on, though no one seemed to be listening.

Clarissa kept pressuring me. “Tell them how you’re always fighting with George.”

“Oh, yes, do tell us everything about George,” Demetria said sarcastically. “Tell us what you did to keep your sordid little affair out of his C.B.”

“I figured he just ran out of time and Amy ended up on the cutting-room floor,” Jenny offered.

Hey, how did it get to be Bag on Amy Hour? “Guys, please,” I began.

“Yeah, guys, please,” said a voice at the door. We all looked up to see the object of our conversation standing there. “It takes two to tango. And if you wanted to know something, all you had to do was ask me.”

“George—” I started.

But he wasn’t going to listen. He crossed the threshold and walked right by me. “I was never one for secrets. It’s Amy that likes to keep them, isn’t that right?”

I didn’t respond.

“But let me tell you, Jenny, since I also have firsthand knowledge.” George crouched beside her. “Society incest is a really, really bad idea. Just keep that in mind.” And then he straightened. “They’ve called an emergency meeting to deal with the raid. All knights to the tomb. That’s what I’m really here to tell you. But if you’d prefer to discuss my sex life, God knows I don’t need to go to another one of these stupid meetings.”

And, as I stood there, basking in a supernova of mortification, the others gathered up their things and departed. It was obvious that George and I needed a moment alone.

He turned to me as soon as they were gone. “You want to tell me what I just walked in on?”

“We’re just stressed because of what happened.”

“If you ask me, this is entirely too much stress for Spring Break.”

“Well, no one asked you.”

“Why don’t you just tell them it was you and Jamie on the beach today?”

For a second, I choked. There it was, right out loud. No more innuendo from Mr. George Harrison Prescott. He’d recognized us, and he’d probably recognized what we were doing as well.

“Why don’t you tell them?” I chose the offensive. “For someone who hates keeping secrets, you’ve sure got a lot of them.”

“You still don’t get it, do you? I like you, Amy. We’re supposed to be friends. I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want to cause you any pain. And you don’t want anyone to know how you spent the day, clearly. Understandably! So I’m not saying a word.” He shook his head. “It’s like you want me to be mean. You want that, go talk to your new boyfriend.”

Understandably? “He’s not my boyfriend, and he’s not mean.”

“He’s a jerk,” George said, incredulous. “Have you forgotten? Jeez, you do know how to pick ’em. You’d have been better off with me.” George took off down the stairs and broke into a jog to catch up to the others.

I dropped to my bunk, breathing as if George had punched me in the stomach. Everything was moving too fast. George was right. This was supposed to be my vacation, and here I was, fighting with my friends, fending off yet more attacks, and getting involved with a guy I’d made a point of avoiding for months. I should have just stayed at Eli and let Dragon’s Head finish me off.

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.”