“The Hamsa is a translation of the Sanskrit word for ‘goose’ or ‘swan,’ or even ‘flamingo.’ Antoine loves flamingos.”

Tyler put his hand on Emily’s glass. “I really don’t think you should have any more to drink.”

“Push off,” she slurred, swatting his hand away. “A Hamsa is a mythical or poetical bird with knowledge. I know lots about birds. I know lots and lots about all sorts of things, but I do not have anyone to talk to them about.”

Her tongue felt like it had doubled in size, and she knew she was lisping because Phoebe was looking at her and her scar in that special, annoyingly sympathetic way people always did when she couldn’t get the words out straight.

“How many of those pills did she take, Tyler?”

“Hindus believe that the Hamsa is a supreme spirit, but I can’t quite remember the rest. Oh, one more thing, in yoga it’s the breath of life.”

“A goose is the breath of life?” Tyler said, and Phoebe tried to stifle a giggle behind her teeny-tiny hand.

“Oh, what would you know?” Emily threw her arm out in frustration, sluicing some of her drink all over Tyler’s lap. “All you’ve done for the past six years is make rich people richer. Except you screwed up, Daddy won’t bail you out, and now you’re searching for penance by helping the weird bird girl find whatever it is her dead grandmother left behind. Which, by the way,” she said, gesturing again with her drink and emptying a little more all over his jeans, “I do not believe to be her whimsical, no magical, no…whatever. I don’t think it’s a book.”

“You don’t?” Phoebe looked aghast, as if it were a personal slight to her existence that she wasn’t going to get what she wanted out of this little trip.

“I most certainly do not,” Emily said and poked out her tongue.

“Anyone hungry?” Tyler opened up the picnic basket prepared for them by Antoine’s maid.

Emily couldn’t look at the basket directly because it made her think of how easily a creature could hide inside. A small monster with fangs and green eyes who had already eaten all of their food and was just waiting for some idiot to put their hand inside so he could bite it off.

“I wish I had a pet,” Emily said as Tyler passed her a prosciutto and Brie sandwich. “A little monster called Samson. I would feed him banana cake.” She grinned across at Tyler. “He’s scared of bananas,”

“No, I’m not.”

“Are too,” she continued, biting down on her baguette and making appreciative noises as the salty meat hit her taste buds. “I used to chase him around the kitchen, waving them at him. Daffodils too.”

“I don’t like you when you’re this chatty.”

“And yet for years, all anyone has ever wanted was to get me to talk.”

“How ironic.” Phoebe sniffed at her own sandwich, then handed it back.

“Isn’t it, just? All it took was my entire family to die to open the veritable floodgates.”