CHAPTER 32 LYRA
LYRA
L yra stared down at the island. Taking a bird’s-eye view of Hawthorne Island to look for some kind of infinity symbol had been Grayson’s idea.
Using the boathouse to do it had been Lyra’s.
They’d already searched the mansion for anything bearing the infinity symbol—the lemniscate , as Grayson had called it.
The roof of the mansion had proven inaccessible.
Hence, the boathouse.
Hence, the two of them at least forty feet up.
The top of the boathouse had lit up the second they’d stepped foot on it, just like the helipad.
“We could be looking for anything,” Grayson said, as they stared out into the night. “Trees planted in the shape of a lemniscate, mirrors in the ground, a pattern in the grass.”
“It’s pitch black,” Lyra pointed out. “Midnight is less than an hour away.”
“Yes.” Grayson Hawthorne and his yeses . “Try the opera glasses.” He cast a sideways glance at her, and then his lips tilted upward on the ends. “Suggestion.”
“Why don’t I just assume they’re all suggestions from now on?” Lyra reached for the opera glasses.
“If it’s ever an order,” Grayson told her, “you’ll know.”
She shot him a look. “Same.” Lifting the opera glasses to her eyes, Lyra felt Grayson shift beside her, and instead of fighting her body’s awareness of his, Lyra let it roll over her.
“Nothing,” she informed Grayson. “Still pitch black.” Her mind went to the original owner of the diamond-encrusted opera glasses as she lowered them. She glanced at Grayson and knew his mind had gone to the same place. “You’re thinking about Odette.”
“Odette,” Grayson replied, allowing his gaze to linger on Lyra’s, “is not the only one I am thinking about.”
“I know.” A few hours earlier, Lyra would have ignored his confession or misinterpreted it, but she couldn’t unsee that drawing. “I didn’t dance when I was alone in the ballroom.” Lyra felt compelled to give him something true. She wasn’t even sure why. “I just couldn’t let myself do it.”
“I know,” Grayson replied.
Lyra wasn’t used to anyone being able to read her. “Now it’s your turn,” she told him, casting her gaze back out on the island.
“My turn for what?” Grayson said.
“Your turn to tell me something else that I already know.”
“You don’t fall.” Grayson nodded toward the edge of the roof. She was standing closer to it than he was.
“I kn—”
Grayson didn’t let her finish. “You don’t fall,” he said again, a certain intensity in those words. “I do.” It couldn’t have been clearer to Lyra that he wasn’t talking about balance. “I fall, Lyra.”
First the kiss, then the drawing, and now this. And all Lyra could say was: “Why?”
“Why what?” Grayson returned.
Why would someone like you fall for me? He was Grayson Hawthorne. He had the whole damn world at his fingertips. Lyra sure as hell wasn’t about to say that out loud.
“Why a bird’s-eye view?” she deflected “Why are you sure that darkness won’t be a problem?”
Grayson studied her for a moment, then answered the question.
“Echoes. The kind that happen from game to game. In one of the old man’s final games, there was a clue that could only be seen from above.
Jameson and Avery played that game, and they’re the ones who masterminded this one.
Infinity—or eight—is another echo from the same sequence. ”
Echo after echo after echo. Lyra wondered if this one was even intentional. And then she realized: “What if the calla in the music box is another echo from one of your childhood games?” Lyra’s mind churned as she walked closer and closer to the edge of the roof. “It might not even be intentional.”
They already knew that Tobias Hawthorne had discovered that his wife was still alive. What else might the billionaire have known? “What if your grandfather encoded something in one of those games?” Lyra insisted. “Something about Alice.”
Alice and calla lilies.
The night air was quiet, except for the waves breaking down below.
“ The right kind of disaster just waiting to happen ,” Lyra said.
“What if that’s what Odette meant? You and me.
My memory and yours.” She took another step forward, needing the movement, needing to think.
She was right on the edge of the roof now, and suddenly, Grayson’s words came back to her, haunting her the way that so many things he’d said did.
You don’t fall. I do. I fall, Lyra.
There was a flash of light in the distance. From somewhere near the ruins. At first, Lyra thought she’d imagined it, but then there was another, not far from the first.
“Did you see that?” Lyra asked.
“I did,” Grayson confirmed. “How much would you like to wager that the flashes continue and form a lemniscate? One of us should stay here and track the progression and the other should go investigate at the source.”
“And when you say one of us should go investigate…,” Lyra prompted.
“Let me do the recon,” Grayson replied.
“Just to be clear, you want me to stay here in the light while you go gallivanting off in the darkness by yourself to check this out?”
“Someone has to watch for the pattern.”
“That someone could be you,” Lyra pointed out. “And I could do the gallivanting.” There was another flash of light—this one closer to the forest than the ruins.
“Humor me. Please.”
It was the please that did it. Lyra expelled a breath. “Fine, but prepare yourself for some very cutting sarcasm when you get back—and no moving on to the next puzzle without me if you find something.”
“I’ll do recon,” Grayson promised with a twitch of his lips. “And that is all.”
He disappeared down the ladder, and Lyra trained her gaze back on the island, keeping watch. There was one more flash of light, and then nothing. For minutes, nothing —until Lyra heard footsteps on the dock below.
Footsteps that weren’t Grayson’s. Footsteps— coming up .
Lyra had time to take two steps back before someone else stepped onto the roof.
Not a player. Not the game makers. A woman.
She couldn’t have been more than three or four years older than Lyra, and there was something eerily familiar about her.
She had hair a shade too light to be red, a heart-shaped face, a scattering of freckles—and no weapons that Lyra could see.
“Hello, Lyra.” Green eyes raked up and down over Lyra’s body, sizing her up. As Lyra returned the favor, she reminded herself that looks could be deceiving.
“Who the hell are you?” Lyra said. “And how did you get on the island?”
“It wasn’t easy with increased security, but I had help. As for who I am…” The interloper smiled coyly. “My name is Eve, and I’m the reason you’re here.”
Eve. The name meant nothing to Lyra. Her mind started to race, but she forced it to slow down, holding on to every ounce of calm she could muster. “You put me in the game? You sent me my ticket?”
“You’re welcome.”
Lyra’s eyes narrowed. “The lights—”
“A distraction,” Eve replied. “My associate and I tracked you and Grayson up here, and let’s just say that I know how Grayson Hawthorne’s mind works.
I knew he’d either interpret the lights a part of the game—or a threat.
If he perceived a threat, he’d be the one to go.
If he assumed it was a part of the game, there was a chance both of you would, but you would have separated eventually. ”
“Let me guess,” Lyra said flatly, “you and your associate would have seen to that?”
“He’s quite useful, my associate,” Eve replied. “Very eclectic skillset. But that’s not really what you want to ask your sponsor. Is it?”
Lyra eyed the ladder, but Eve was blocking it, and even if she hadn’t been, Lyra couldn’t have just walked away. “What is your associate going to do to Grayson?” Lyra demanded.
“Absolutely nothing. Grayson will never even know my sentinel is there.”
Lyra took a step forward. “What do you want with me? Why send me here?”
“I would have thought the note that accompanied my gift to you was clear enough. I sent you that ticket because you deserve this—for everything the Hawthorne family took from you, for everything you’ve suffered, you deserve this.
” Eve smiled again, sweetly this time. “And I thought our interests might align.”
Lyra didn’t like the sound of that. “What interests?”
“You’re going to do something for me, Lyra.”
“I doubt that.”
Eve adopted an almost wounded expression. “But I’m a friend of Grayson’s—or at least, I used to be. It appears as though you’re his friend now.”
Grayson. Lyra tried to process that. This is about Grayson? “So you’re… what? The unhinged ex?”
“I like to think of myself more as the path untraveled,” Eve said.
“But for your purposes, the only thing that matters is that, once upon a time, I got a look at a billionaire’s List, capital L .
Enemies. People the great Tobias Hawthorne had wronged, people he had destroyed or betrayed, mysterious individuals who’d offed themselves because of him—you get the drift. ”
“My father.” Lyra cut through the bullshit. Grayson had mentioned his grandfather’s List, but he’d also told Lyra something else. “Grayson said that Tobias Hawthorne’s file on him was full of false information. Dead ends.”
“Oh?” Eve replied. “How fortunate, then, that along with a great deal of money, I also inherited another man’s files, which happened to detail not just that very wealthy man’s rivals and adversaries but also the webs surrounding all of those individuals: their allies and friends on the one hand and their enemies on the other.
You can see why you caught my interest.”
Lyra had started this game hating Grayson Hawthorne—and the entire Hawthorne family.
“Suffice it to say, my file on your father is a bit more detailed than Tobias Hawthorne’s was.
” Eve gave Lyra a moment to process that.
“Let’s play a game, shall we? I’ll give you three questions about the contents of my file on your father—any three you like, which I will answer honestly, if not fully.
And in return, all you have to give me is the opportunity to present you with an offer. ”
I’m not taking any damn deals. Eve’s game, on the other hand—that, Lyra would play. “What does your file say about omega ?”
“Nothing.” Eve tilted her head to one side. “What’s omega ?”
Lyra’s gut said Eve wasn’t acting, that the word omega rang no bells for her whatsoever. Lyra took a beat to consider her second question and zeroed in on one more likely to yield results. “What does your file say about calla lilies?”
“Only that Tobias Hawthorne had some sent to your father’s funeral.” Eve gave a little shrug. “A bit sentimental, if you ask me. One question left.”
Tobias Hawthorne knew something. Lyra’s heart rate accelerated. He sent calla lilies for a reason. The dead billionaire had clearly been a man whose every action was layered with meaning, and he didn’t strike Lyra as the type to send flowers to funerals out of sentiment .
Putting a pin in that line of thinking, Lyra considered the fact that Eve had offered true answers but not necessarily full ones, and yet, when Lyra had asked about calla lilies, Eve had responded that her file contained only one thing on the topic.
Lyra didn’t trust her so-called sponsor as far as she could throw her, but her gut said—again—that Eve was telling the truth, that she really didn’t know anything more about the calla lilies.
Not that Lyra’s father had given her one the night he died. Not anything else about what that particular flower meant.
Then why send me one? Lyra wasn’t about to burn her last question on that.
“I’m waiting,” Eve said.
Make it count. Lyra went straight for to the heart of the matter. “What does your file on my father say about Tobias Hawthorne’s dead wife?”
“Alice Hawthorne?” If Eve knew Alice wasn’t dead, she gave no sign of it. “Absolutely nothing.” Eve stared bullet holes in Lyra for a few seconds.
She wasn’t expecting that question. If anything, Eve seemed to be wondering now what Lyra knew—but she got over it.
“I almost feel bad about all the questions you didn’t ask,” Eve said finally.
“So out of the goodness of my heart, I’m going to give you something—proof that you want the file that I have.
Your father used dozens of last names. The man who made my List had it narrowed down to three possibilities for his real one. ”
Lyra didn’t want that to mean anything. It was such a small thing—a last name. But after the Grandest Game was finished, a name would at least be something to go on.
A name might tell her something she’d never known about herself.
“I’m listening.” Lyra’s throat tightened around the words.
“Drakos. Reyes. Aquila.”
Lyra filed those names away for future reference, refusing to let them mean too much.
“Now it’s my turn,” Eve said. “Here’s my offer for you, Lyra: Lose this game and ensure that Grayson Hawthorne does the same, and I will give you two-point-five million dollars and the entirety of your father’s file.”
Two-point-five million dollars was more than enough to save Mile’s End. It was more than enough for Lyra, period. And that file…
Lyra’s jaw tightened. “Why do you want me to lose?”
“Does it matter?”
Maybe it didn’t. So Lyra focused on what did. “Why would I take any deal from you? Why would I believe anything you’re saying when you’ve been playing mind games with me since I got here? My father’s names on self-destructing notes. Sending me that flower.”
There was a long, barbed silence.
“I never sent you a flower,” Eve said. “But I’m guessing it was a calla lily?”
“You’re lying,” Lyra replied, but she didn’t really believe that.
“I’ll admit,” Eve said, “you’ve piqued my interest, but I can’t count on this little interlude of ours lasting much longer.
I had those notes with your father’s names planted to remind you what you lost, what the Hawthorne family took from you.
And you can trust my offer because I have no reason to fail to follow through.
Two-point-five million dollars is nothing to me. That file is nothing to me.”
“What’s the catch?” Lyra refused to believe there wasn’t one.
“Well, I suppose there is one other thing,” Eve said, as she walked back toward the ladder. “If you want the money and the file, I’m also going to need you to break Grayson Hawthorne’s heart.”