Diana Racine 02 - Goddess of the Moon

kink in our plans because now we have more people to worry about. ”
    Cal ’s gaze lingered on Anat. Such love passed between them that Maia felt like an intruder. He cuddled the baby close and rubbed his cheek on the sleeping child’s head .
    Turning his attention to Maia , he said, “ Y ou have the best chance of getting Diana Racine out of the suite.”
    “Me? How? T hey’ll recognize me.”
    “ E xactly the point. You’re Silas Compton’s daughter. No one will question whether you’re supposed to be there, and unless they know you’re being contained, they’ll think you’re doing your father’s work. If Anat or I are seen, a red flag with sirens will go off .”
    “ I t’s the middle of the night. Why would I want to see her?”
    “Because your father is having a meeting to offer up Diana, Goddess of the Moon. Make up some bullshit about the stars being in the right place in conjunction with the new moon. They’ll believe you . No one in that role is conditioned to question.”
    “Is my … father still here?” She almost choked on the word father, considering the picture forming of him. A picture she ’d chose n to ignore for too long.
    “I don’t know,” Cal said, “I haven’t been privy to any information today. I know my father isn’t here , n or are Anastasia and her sisters .”
    “Do you know why?”
    “I have an idea.”
    Who was feeding Cal his information? “What if you’re wrong?”
    He held her gaze. “Then we’re fucked. We haven’t much time. If we can’t convince Seth to join us when he wakes up, we’re fucked anyway. We’re past the point of no return . Go to the Racine woman, Maia. Get her out of the building. Anat and I will go to the cabins and release the cop. We’ll meet in the middle, behind the school, unless something happens to one of us. If it does, we can’t be any worse off than before we started, can we?”
    Maia clasped the back of her neck and massaged. “Tell me what to do, then point me in the right direction .”

Chapter Forty- Seven
    A P ie in the Eye

    D uring the six years between the death of his family and meeting Diana, Lucier either ate out or dined on a variety of supermarket frozen dinners. Occasionally, he feasted on leftovers at his friend ’s hotel . T he food in this place vied with the best of New Orleans ’s famous kitchens. His hosts obviously believed the cultivation of a genetically mastered race depended as much on good nutrition as it did on DNA.
    T he pickup of his empty Styrofoam dishes from his meals occurred about an hour and a half after the young girl delivered his food, always with Mountain Man waiting outside the door. Two different girls had performed the chore, or maybe pleasure, of serving him. Anna, respectful and compliant, eagerly served him in the manner Lucier assumed she’d been taught. The other never g a ve her name, was quiet and sullen , seldom ma king eye contact. He hoped Anna showed up this evening. She ’ d be more apt to follow instructions. If he got that far .
    He finished his dinner, a meaty white fish bathed in a butter/wine/garlic sauce, two vegetables, coffee, and dessert. The dessert was the important factor in his escape, and he worried that there wouldn’t be one. He’d have made do with something else on the dinner plate if he needed to, but the lemon meringue pie with a graham cracker crust couldn’t have been more perfect . The success of his plan rested on timing. It was a long shot, he knew, he had nothing to lose .
    He heard the muffled words of the bodyguard and the girl’s acquiescence as they approached. Lucier lowered himself to the floor, tucked his hand under his chest, and held his breath for as long as he could to cast a purplish hue to his coffee-colored skin. When the door opened, he saw Anna through the slit of one eye and groaned one word ―heart .
    The girl rushed to Lucier, calling Mountain Man to come inside. “He’s having a heart attack . Mountain Man started to pull out his cell phone, but the she said in frantic desperation, “ Hurry. He needs CPR . Turn him over and do it. You know how, don’t you? ”
    “Yeah, but―”
    “Do it,” she ordered . “He can’t die.”
    The big man slipped the phone back into his pocket and le aned over Lucier who took a deep breath and swung his fist full of lemon meringue direc tly in the man’s eyes and nose.
    Caught off guard, Mountain Man groped at the thick glop clouding his vision and clogging his