“Sure, no problem.” She shared a troubled look with Jamys. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Yeah.” Sam bent and picked up the dart Lucan had thrown at her and held it up. The streetlights illuminated the glass cartridge, which was cracked and empty. “Pray that Alex has come up with something stronger than this.”
* * *
The sound of something tapping gently on glass roused Lucan enough to open one eye. He didn’t see Burke, Samantha, or any of his jardin warriors. He saw a patrolman standing next to his Ferrari. The cop had his nightstick in one hand and a citation book in the other.
With no small amount of relief Lucan pressed the button to retract the window. “How may I be of assistance, Officer?”
“Have you been drinking tonight, sir?” the cop asked.
Lucan checked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, where his fangs did not protrude. “Not yet, I should think.”
The patrolman straightened. “Please step out of the vehicle, sir.”
Lucan complied, and discovered his Ferrari sat parked on an empty stretch of sand, in which it had also sunk halfway to its wheel wells. He didn’t recognize his surroundings but, from the size and architectural style of the mansion sprawled to the left, surmised it was a private beach.
Darkness has no need. Lucan didn’t know why that line from Byron’s poem echoed in his mind, only that it made him feel a strange, almost unbearable sense of doom.
“Do you know where you are, sir?” the cop asked.
“A beach in South Florida.” He hoped. He regarded the shorter man, who shuffled back a step. “Do you know where I am?”
“I’ll ask the questions, sir. Would you walk up here, please?” When Lucan had crossed the sand and stepped over the curb, the cop pointed to a faded strip of white painted on the road’s edge. “Stand on the white line with your heels together.”
Lucan frowned. “Why would I do that?” He breathed in the air. From the temperature and smell of it, he was no longer in Fort Lauderdale. “Where the devil am I?”
“Now, there’s no reason to get angry about this, sir.” The cop rested his hand on the holster clipped to his belt. “You’re going to walk this line for me, and then you’re going to blow in a little balloon, and it’ll all be over.” He inhaled, and his expression became uncertain. “If that’s okay with you, sir.”
Lucan moved closer, deliberately shedding more scent until the officer’s pupils dilated, indicating he was experiencing the full effects of l’attrait. “Where am I, and how did you find me?”
“You’re in Palm Beach,” the cop said, and rattled off an address Lucan didn’t recognize. “The owner of the estate called 911 when you drove off the road onto his property. Dispatch sent me to respond. I love that car, man.”
“So do I.” Lucan reached for the patrolman’s arm, and stopped as he saw his hands were bare. “Tell me the time.”
The cop glanced at his watch. “Quarter past midnight.”
Somehow he’d lost five hours. As he reached inside his jacket to check his pockets, Lucan discovered the long tear in his shirt and the tenderness of a newly healed wound beneath it. Someone had slashed his chest, and he had no memory of it. “I need a phone.”
The cop reached into his pocket and produced one. “Please, use mine.”
“Wait here.” Lucan dialed the number to Samantha’s mobile as he walked down to the Ferrari. When she answered, he said, “Sweetheart—”
“Kiss my ass.” She hung up.
“I’d love nothing better.” He stared at the phone for a moment, and redialed. The number went straight to her voice mail.
Lucan searched the interior of the Ferrari, finding only a trace of his own blood on the rim of the steering wheel, and some scattered beach sand on the floor mat. Traces of sand also encrusted the seams and soles of his shoes.
He placed one more call, this time to his tresora, who thankfully did not hang up on him. “Good evening, Herbert.”
“My lord.” Burke sounded relieved. “Where are you?”
“Presently, in Palm Beach.”
“I see.” Burke sounded quite the opposite. “May I ask why?”
“You may not.” Until he learned what had happened to him over the course of the last five hours, Lucan could not rely on anyone, even his most trusted human servant. “The Ferrari has had a slight mishap.” He gave Burke the address. “Call Triple-A, have it towed back to the stronghold, and summon my mechanic.”
“Yes, my lord. Should I send a car for you?”