Nightbred(29)

Jamys copied the information and stored it in a file before he returned to the Web site’s front page. One of the coin images, a Spanish gold piece sporting a cross similar to the Templars’ martyrdom cross, looked vaguely familiar to him. When he couldn’t place it, he returned to the search results.

Another Web site devoted to salvage diving and recovery maintained an archive of mapped voyages. He checked the index for the Golden Horde, and found an antique map that showed several routes around the island as well as one leading up to the American mainland before it ended in a series of dashes. When he checked the legend, he saw that the dashes indicated the last known position of the ship.

Jamys imagined any mortal reading the accounts of Hollander and his ship would dismiss them as myths or superstitions, as the historian had. But details involved with the curse and the castaway’s claims made him suspect Hollander had not been human, but Darkyn. An immortal obliged to travel by ship in that era would not have been able to store blood for any length of time, and so would be forced to feed on the crew while at sea. Hollander would also have the Kyn’s nocturnal nature, which would compel him to avoid the discomfort of the sun’s rays by sailing only at night.

Much of the information on the sites that mentioned Hollander and the Golden Horde had been condensed and interpreted; what Jamys needed to see were the actual documents and maps from the seventeenth century. Fortunately for him modern humans who were obsessed with the past preserved such things with great care, and kept them in museums and the libraries of important institutions. When he returned to Charles Gifford’s Web site, he discovered the historian had scheduled several lectures at the Miami Maritime Museum, to which he had also donated Father Bartley’s journals.

Jamys didn’t want to involve Chris in his quest, but his unfamiliarity with Lucan’s territory made it almost a necessity. As he made note of the museum’s address, he heard a ringing sound coming from his traveling case, and reached in to take out his mobile.

The caller ID displayed the number for his father’s private line at the stronghold.

His ruse had been discovered, it seemed. He was tempted to shut off the phone, but if he didn’t answer the call, Thierry would order the garrison to begin searching for him.

He pressed the speaker button. “Yes, Father.”

“When you bespell a mortal in order to assume his identity, you should remember to adjust his memories as well,” Thierry said. “Where in God’s name are you?”

He considered how to answer that. “Where I am safe.”

“Since you are not here, I disagree,” his father snapped. “You are to return to the stronghold by nightfall.”

“No.”

Thierry growled, “You mistake my meaning, son. I do not make this a request. I am your suzerain as well as your parent, and I say you will come home at once.”

It gave Jamys little satisfaction to repeat his father’s words back to him. “I am not a warrior.”

“You are my son, Jamys.” Thierry’s tone softened. “There is no need for this estrangement and rebellion. Tell me where you are, and I will come there.”

“To bring me back,” Jamys amended.

“Yes. No.” His father made a frustrated sound. “Permit me to make right this thing between us. You wish to train with the garrison? I will direct my captains to instruct you. I will have my builder construct a villa on the grounds for you so that you may set up your own household. I will give you whatever you wish, boy; you have but to say what you need.”

He closed his eyes. “I am not a boy, Father.” He felt Chris’s hand touch his shoulder and covered it with his own, drawing strength from it. “I am a man.”

“Of course you are—”

“Then let me be one.” He switched off the phone before Thierry could reply, and set it down beside the laptop, and stared at it. “Forgive me. I did not mean to wake you.”

“I was a little cold.” Chris picked up the mobile. “I know this is encrypted, but if you keep using it, he’ll find a way to track down the signal.” She removed the back to extract the battery and the SIM card. “We keep a supply of smart phones downstairs that can’t be traced. I’ll get one for you to use while you’re here.”

She said nothing about the conversation she’d obviously overheard. “You are not going to tell Lucan?”

She moved her shoulders. “If he asks me who I’ve given phones out to lately, I’ll have to say you’ve got one.”

“About my father,” he persisted.

“I think you should tell Lucan about it.” She sat down beside him. “From what I overheard it sounds like you could use some advice. Lucan can seem unfeeling and sarcastic and kind of scary sometimes, but underneath all that sneering superiority and cold-blooded heartless killer thing he does, he’s just a guy trying to get by. He’ll understand.”