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“Sister jewels?”

“While you are a guest of Evermoore you will wear this,” said Xiomara, completely ignoring her. Then, more sternly, she added the word: “Always.”

Melody reached for the chain but Xiomara pulled it back slightly.

“You are never to take it off,” she added. “And I do mean never.” The old woman’s eyes sparkled dangerously. Deep brown irises. Blue rims, where the pigment had worn away due to age. Melody saw an almost limitless intelligence there. Vast wisdom.

“Do you understand?” the old woman was saying.

“Yes,” Melody nodded solemnly. “Yes, I understand.”

“When do you take it off?”

“Never.”

“Okay then.”

This time she allowed her to take the pendant, and Melody slipped it over her head. It hung low and heavy, between her breasts.

They spoke only about a few more things — small details she needed to know about the plantation, the mansion, the mission itself. While she listened, Melody made a promise to herself: no matter what happened, no matter what she needed to do, she would not fail. She wouldn’t return to the Blackstone without the egg.

When they were finished Xiomara leaned back and cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asked warily. “I mean, if not I can get—”

“Yes,” said Melody quickly. She still had questions. Even misgivings. But for now she shoved all those things aside. “I’m ready.”

The Head of Order nodded slowly. She looked her up and down one last time, as if deciding something, while rapping her knuckles gently on the table. When she finally rose, her eyes remained locked on Melody’s.

“It took us years to get this invite, Ms. Larson,” Xiomara warned. “Long years.”

Melody swallowed.

“Don’t fuck it up.”

Two

Melody stirred awake just as the long black sedan rolled to a stop. She didn’t even realize she’d been sleeping. Hell, she’d slept on the plane too.

She peered out the window… and saw nothing but green. Trees on both sides. Overgrowth. Undergrowth. The emerald heart of some thick, Louisiana jungle.

“Why are we stopping?”

There was a gentle whir as the partition window between herself and the driver slid down. The big man hadn’t spoken much since picking her up from the airport. He hardly turned his head to speak to her now.

“Because we’re here.”

Melody looked all around again, sure she missed something. Apparently she hadn’t.

“Here?” she asked. “Where’s the plantation?” In the thin rectangle of the rear-view mirror, the man was nothing but eyes. Melody squinted at him. “I thought you were taking me to the plantation?”

“I have,” he said over his shoulder. “Evermoore is right over there. Just down that path.”

He pointed, and she followed one thick finger. Cut through the trees was a tiny footpath… if it could even be called that at all. It looked more like an animal trail. Barely discernible. Almost invisible to the eye.

“You’re kidding.”

The driver shook his head, somehow without moving his neck. Apparently he wasn’t kidding.

“This is the spot. Ms. Magoro’s orders.”