“’Cause you’re freaking me out.”

And a moment later, we both almost choked as a voice broke through the morning stillness. “All knights, to the tomb. All knights, to the tomb.”

Demetria laughed. “Okay, that’s gotta be the weirdest announcement anyone’s ever made over a P.A.”

And when we finished dressing and arrived at the tomb, it was to greet the solemn face of Salt, who frowned at us all. “It is my great regret to inform you,” he said, with vast solemnity, “that I have received a very disturbing report from my counterpart in New Haven.”

“What?” George said. “Has something happened to Hale?”

“No.” Man, could Salt draw it out or what? “According to my counterpart, alarm bells went off in the Inner Temple of the tomb yesterday evening at 7:45 P.M. Apparently, the Inner Temple was breached by an outsider.”

“Did they steal anything?” Ben asked. Somehow, he’d already snagged himself a cup of coffee and several of the other Diggers were giving it longing glances.

“No,” the caretaker announced. “The assailants, however, left a message.”

We all waited, breathless, until we became aware that Salt was not about to volunteer the particulars without sufficient setup.

“Let’s just call Hale and get the scoop,” Jenny whispered to me.

I clenched my jaw. This guy was unbelievable. “What did it say, Salt?” I prompted, and he practically giggled as he read:

“‘It’s not over. Dragon’s Head.’”

Well, Felicity had warned me that the feud hadn’t ended as a result of her bargain with “her boyfriend.” Just the campaign against me. And that note was a fair warning that though one battle had ended, the war was still raging. Now they’d breached the Inner Temple.

“How convenient for them that we’re not on campus,” Jenny said.

“Yeah,” Demetria replied. “Just like it was convenient for us in January.”

“But why didn’t they just steal something of ours?” I asked. “Then we’d be even!” Then we’d be forced to tell them about their stupid dragon.

“Maybe they’re planning something worse,” said Harun.

Ben shook his head. “So we’re getting it from two fronts now? A bunch of conspiracy theorists on our neighboring island, and another society back home?”

Harun looked at him with interest. “Actually, do any of us know they are conspiracy theorists on the other island? Maybe that’s Dragon’s Head, too. Maybe…”

And thus passed another day on Cavador Key. Breakfast in the morning, followed by me resisting a boat trip while the others commandeered the island’s craft to check out the neighboring island. (Report from George: “I don’t think Dragon’s Head members tend to be quite so counterculture as the guys we saw through the binoculars.” Retort from Demetria: “So counterculture to you is dreadlocks and facial piercings?”) A leisurely lunch, then an afternoon of intermittent siestas and sunbathing, during which time Poe spirited me away for another trip to the crescent beach to practice dog-paddling, floating on my back, and French kissing. (I’m much better at the latter, still suck at the first two.) A long dinner with lots of wine, and a late night campfire complete with marshmallows, hot rum drinks, hot dogs, and ghost stories. (Poe is an excellent storyteller, by the way. Even Jenny and Clarissa admitted to being impressed, and I was glad I had the heat from the fire to explain away my blush.) Still later, the four of us girls tripped back through the woods to our cabin, a little drunk on rum and feeling as relaxed as I could recall being since New Year’s Eve.

Way too early the following morning, we heard a distant, rhythmic thwapping, getting steadily louder and louder.

“What now?” Demetria groaned, pulling a pillow over her braids. “God, people, you win, okay! We’re trying to take over the world. Now let us get some fucking sleep!”

Jenny threw her pillow at her. “You’re making more noise than they are.”

Clarissa was sitting up in bed, cocking her head and listening. “Guys,” she said.

“Go back to bed, Clary.”

“No, guys, I think—” The noise got louder and louder until there was no doubt in our minds what it was. A flyby.

Instantly, all four of us were on our feet and out the door, though Clarissa found time to roll up the bottoms of her silk pajama pants against the morning dew. We looked to the skies, where indeed there was a large white helicopter circling low over the island.

“Salt’s gonna freak,” Jenny observed. We grabbed our flip-flops from the porch, rushed through the woods to the main compound, and found everyone else hurrying out of the cabins and buildings as well, eyes turned up. Was it a news helicopter? An emissary from the White House, come to exonerate Gehry and invite him back into the fold? Or had the conspiracy theorists finally scraped up enough dough to do an aerial pictorial?

Salt came running out of his cottage, walkie-talkie pressed to his mouth.

“Out of the way!” he yelled over the sound of the rotors, waving his free arm at the assembled crowd. “Move out, move out! You’re standing on the landing pad!”

The what? We all looked at our feet, where the path widened into a rough circle. This was a helicopter landing pad? We had landing pads on Cavador Key? And Salt wanted the copter to land here?

“Move!” the caretaker bellowed over the deafening roar. The helicopter dipped lower and hovered above us, stirring up massive clouds of dust and sand and whipping hair into everyone’s faces.

We moved, and as I scooted back to the fringe of the forest, I couldn’t help but glance over to the boys’ cabin. Malcolm and Poe stood side by side on the porch, watching the proceedings and leaning on the rail. Poe was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. As the helicopter descended into the compound, I saw Malcolm lean toward Poe and cup his hand around his friend’s ear to speak into it, and I stiffened.

Hands off, big sib.

Where the hell did that come from! Not that I suspected Malcolm had anything other than friendly feelings toward Poe—and there was definitely no chance of the reverse. That had been made breathtakingly obvious in the last two days. And yet I was as taken aback by the very fact that I had a reaction as I was by the reaction itself. Jealousy? Over Poe? This was all moving way too fast.

The helicopter’s runners finally set down on the soil of Cavador Key, and the rotors slowed. Every inhabitant on the key waited in awe, their focus turned toward the machine.

And I do mean every inhabitant. While they all watched, I couldn’t help but notice four figures coming up the path from the house near the docks, forming a small nuclear family knot a safe distance from the group. Even our resident shut-in wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

But before I could nudge Demetria and point to the object of her political obsession, the door to the helicopter slid open, and Kurt Gehry dropped off my curiosity meter.

Out popped a figure in a tight, corset-style top and the biggest sunglasses I’ve ever seen. Her dark red hair fell past her waist, her smile looked like it was made for billboards.

“Hi, guys!” said Odile Dumas. “Miss me?”