“I cannot say. One moment I was with the girl, the next I was in my rooms.” Vander rubbed his throat. “I could not say how I got there. I had no memory of it.”
“Captain, take the guards and search the stronghold for Jamys Durand.” He helped Vander to his feet. “Burke, find Christian and bring her to me.”
“A moment, Captain,” the tresora said, and then informed Lucan of the phone call he had received from the girl. “I know from the manner in which she spoke that she was not under Lord Durand’s or any Kyn’s sway,” he added, giving Vander a disgusted look. “Nor would he have left with her if he meant to challenge your rule.”
“Perhaps he feared being found out,” Vander suggested. “Your lady saw him with you at the pier, did she not? And no other Kyn there but him.”
“My knuckles begin to itch, Master,” Aldan said. “Might I scratch them another time?”
“Leave him with me,” Lucan said. “All of you. Get out.”
The men left with reluctance, and as soon as Lucan closed the door, Vander shuffled to his feet. “I regret exposing your friend’s betrayal, my lord, but ’tis better to know there is a knife at your back before it is used.”
“I have known Jamys Durand his entire life.” Weary now, Lucan returned to his desk and dropped in the chair. “And his father, all of his kin. They are obsessed with honor.” He shook his head. “He could not have done this.”
“That may be. I have heard talk of the boy’s mother,” Vander said carefully. “Is it true that she handed her family over to the Brethren?”
Lucan thought of how he had found the Durands in Ireland. “Yes, and the evil bitch died for it.”
“My own mother was a common street whore.” Vander came to the desk and began idly straightening the objects nearest the edge. “She led my father on a merry chase, right to the gallows. She held me in her arms so that I might watch his neck being stretched.” He picked up a framed photo of Samantha standing on the beach and looking out at the sea. “Your lady is as clever as she is lovely. She understands this time, and the strangeness of the world. Any man would count himself fortunate to own her.”
“I don’t own Samantha.” Lucan took the photo from him, and then went still as he saw the web of cracks in the glass covering Samantha’s image. “I love her.”
“Doubtless she knows it,” Vander assured him. “What I most admire is your patience with her, and her determination to live a separate life from yours.”
Lucan turned the frame facedown on the desk. “We share the same life.”
“Yet she is gone from here at the worst possible time, to do this . . . police work, is it?” Vander shook his head. “Were she mine, I would never let her wander from my sight. Not when an enemy is poised to attack. But perhaps there is another reason for her absence now.”
Lucan looked up. “Samantha would never betray me.”
“Of her own accord, no, perhaps she would not. But this boy, Jamys, can seize minds, and control bodies, you said.” Vander looked sympathetic. “I pray she has not fallen under his influence. Given your feelings for her, he would be a fool not to use her against you.”
Lucan picked up the phone and dialed Samantha’s mobile, but the line went immediately to her voice mail. Panic welled up inside him, but when he tried to rise, his legs refused to obey him. “Help me to my feet. I have to find her. I have to get her away from him. If he has used her—if he has so much as touched her—”
“That is not all you must do, my lord,” Vander said, and smiled as he reached out to touch his shoulder. “But please, do let me help you.”
* * *
Jamys didn’t ask any questions as they left the museum and drove back to the boat, which gave Chris time to consider how much to tell him. She tuned the car radio to a Cuban-American station she liked and let the lively beat of salsa fill the silence.
If she had believed in God, by now she’d be convinced he was punishing her. After all she’d done to forget the past and make herself a better person, he probably wouldn’t be able to resist dragging all that old shit back into her life, or dropping it right in front of Jamys. Maybe this proved there was a God, because nothing else could have hurt her more than this. It was the perfect celestial fuck-you.
She parked the car and stared at the boat for a while.
“Come and rest with me,” Jamys said. “We need not begin following the map tonight. You are tired.”
That she was. “I don’t think we should wait. I can’t come with you on the boat, either.” She ran her hand over the top curve of the steering wheel. “I’m going to see the guy who sold the journal to Gifford, and find out where he got it.”