“You volunteered to do exercise?” Esther stopped in the middle of the crossing, oblivious to the futile honking of the driver waiting for her to cross. “Were you on drugs?”

“I was suspicious.” Susan dragged her to safety. “As I should have been. Look at this.”

She held out her phone to show them the photo of the notes she’d found on Daisy’s desk. Esther’s hand went to her mouth.

“Drugs and psycho writing—are you sure it’s the yoga and not that she’s fallen in with some rebel archaeologists set on opening a cursed tomb?”

“Always with the curses.” Susan rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it’s the yoga. Those archaeologists are hardly a bad crowd. Have you met her friend Reggie?”

“You know, Archaeology Dude?” Ed Gemmell interjected. “Big guy, goatee, punny T-shirts. He was out for Daisy’s birthday. Nice chap. No social skills.” There was a very self-aware pause. “Which I think says a lot, coming from me.”

Esther looped her arm in his and pulled him close. “We love you, anyway.”

As Ed Gemmell turned crimson, Susan carried on. “There’s more to it than that. See this symbol?”

“The flower?”

“Something far more sinister . . .” Susan said darkly. “These petals are the Eyes of Zoise.”

“So what are we going to do?” Ed Gemmell asked. They’d reached the gates leading to Catterick Hall, and dusk had darkened to night. “Considering it’s just a stoner yoga group, they seem remarkably organized.”

“We’re going to do exactly what Esther said: bust Daisy out and (metaphorically) burn the place to the ground.” Susan grinned wickedly as she took her phone out and scrolled down to McGraw’s number. “And for that, we need a very big box, a van, and a plan.”

“And a man?” Esther nudged her in the ribs, and Susan allowed herself a rueful smile.

“Yeah, all right. We’ll get us one of those.”

“I mean, I’m right here . . .” Ed Gemmell muttered.

Man(s) and van secured, they moved on to the plan.

Hey, Grace. Good to have you back.

Who dis?

Susan (Ptolemy)

Sorry. Hi. Yeah. All my contacts got deleted while I was up at the house.

What house?

THE OUTSIDE SHALL NOT SEE THE INSIDE.

OK . . .

Sorry. Just read that back. Not sure what came over me.

Too much Zoise yoga, presumably?

NO ONE CAN DEFEAT ZOISE.

Good to know. About that . . . who, exactly, is Zoise?

ZOISE IS ALL AND NOTHING. LOVE AND HATE. ACTION AND INACTION.

Is Zoise contradiction and consistency? Hot and cold? Knife and fork?

“Knife and fork aren’t opposites,” Esther said, reading over her friend’s shoulder as the two of them sat scheming on Susan’s bed.

“Stow it, gothball.”

God. I’m really sorry about this. Every time I see the word Zoise: TRUST NOT THE UNTESTED, TEST NOT THE TRUSTED.