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Chatting with MarciaLUPIANNE CHECKED HER WATCH: twenty-three hours flat. In the middle of the six-days week, the park emptied early. She waited under the big willow. The fluid branches hid her silhouette. Cybele’s light traced the silver contours of the thin leaves that rustled, in the drafts of air coming from the towers.
She breathed in the scent of chlorophyll, the live-giving substance present in plants and algae. What could they do without it?
Vincent, who had boasted having the key to their problem, had yet to step forward.
She stifled a yawn. The last hour of the Phœnix day counted only forty-three minutes. What if Vincent had stood her up? And Sabian, that old monkey, where was he? Blanche was supposed to come back with him!
She brushed hair from her da
