From Theo’s flash of a smile, Jack had guessed right. Yes, it was Theo Barclay who had entered the room like they’d been friends all along, instead of bare acquaintances. And with him was a girl who put the maid completely out of Jack’s mind.
“Glad to see that you’re not half as bad as everyone made it sound,” Theo said, stepping aside so the maid could get by. “You remember I told you about my fiancée?”
Jack didn’t, of course, but even with the drugs leaving his mind heavy and dull, he still had enough social graces to lie. “Of course,” he murmured, wondering why in the hell any man would bring his fiancée to another man’s bedside.
“Theo heard that you’d been hurt, and he simply had to come see you,” the girl said, her voice a soft fluttering thing, as utterly female as she was. “I hope you don’t mind that I came along.” She licked nervously at pink lips. “I know we haven’t been formally introduced yet. . . .”
Jack decided that he didn’t care why Theo had brought his fiancée, because the girl was a sight to behold. The purple light of the room complemented her creamy complexion and fair hair, as though it had been drawn just for her. She was dressed in what might have looked like an ordinary day dress on anyone else, but the high neck was made of a pale lace that looked so delicate, it was nearly sheer.
“I’m not overly interested in formalities,” Jack said, wishing like hell he knew what he was wearing under the bedsheets. “I can’t offer you any refreshments, since my maid seems to have absconded with the water glass, but feel free to have a seat anywhere you’d like.”
“We won’t be staying that long,” Theo said with another good-humored smile. “We just wanted to check in on you. You had quite the luck, didn’t you?”
“Did I?” Jack wondered aloud. Considering that he was stuck in a bed, his arm and head hurting like hell, he didn’t feel particularly lucky.
“I’d say,” Theo told him with a sure nod. “I’ve seen the pictures in the papers—the destruction was just incredible. After the stories that have been going around town, I half expected you to be at death’s door.”
“Stories?” Jack asked, trying to piece together the missing parts of his memory from Theo’s words. There was a train.
“Rumors,” Theo amended. “You know how our mothers can be when they sit around and gossip over tea.”
Jack could only imagine what his mother and the other women who sat around clucking over the news of the day might have said about him. “I’m fine,” he grumbled, trying to sit up again. But another sharp pain jolted through his arm, and he hissed as he sank back into bed. Like some feeble old man. Weak.
The girl took a step forward. “Is there anything we can do—”
“No,” he growled, and then, realizing how her eyes had widened at the force of his tone, he softened his voice despite the pain that throbbed through his head. “No. I’m fine. The train derailed?” he asked, trying to remember.
“The authorities aren’t entirely sure what happened,” Theo said. “But from the pictures, it looked like the earth itself opened up. You’re damn lucky—your car was turned on its side, but intact. The car after yours? It looked like the explosion ripped right through it. The tracks and everything else were just . . . gone. Some of the papers are calling you a hero for making it out alive.”
“And the others?” Jack asked. Because there were always others.
“One of the papers got ahold of the doctor who treated you at the site of the wreckage,” the girl told him. “He said that you had been conscious when they pulled you out and that you told him you knew who caused the derailment.”
“I did?” Jack asked, trying to recall the moments after the crash. It was a blur of pain and confusion, but he did remember one thing more clearly now. Darrigan and the girl. Then it came to him—
“They disappeared,” Jack said, talking to himself more than them. Which was impossible. People don’t just disappear, unless . . .
No. How could he have missed it? But it made sense—a sick sort of sense. How else could Darrigan have duped him so easily? How else could the girl have fooled him with her lies? How could either of them have escaped from Khafre Hall without some sort of feral power? They’re Mageus.
“Disappeared?” the girl asked. “Who disappeared?”
“Harte Darrigan and the girl,” Jack said, his voice rough with the hatred he felt for them. They had taken his free will and used him, just as the witch in Greece had.
“Harte Darrigan . . . the magician?” the girl asked, stepping closer.
“He was on that train,” Jack told them. “He was in the car with me before everything happened. I saw him. And the girl.”
Jack saw the way Theo and his girl traded questioning glances. They didn’t even bother to hide their skepticism. It was the same type of look people had traded when he’d been dragged back from Greece. They’d thought he’d simply been a lovesick fool then. He’d tried to explain that he hadn’t been lovestruck but bespelled. There had been one night of drinking that he couldn’t quite remember, and then . . . he hadn’t been able to break apart from her after. Not until his cousin had shown up to remove him.
Jack’s embarrassment had burned through any gratitude he might have felt for the rescue. Now his anger at being abused again was the glue holding him together.
“They’re con artists and thieves, both of them,” Jack told Theo, growing more and more agitated. “They ruined me when they destroyed Khafre Hall and took the Order’s most prized treasures, and now they’re trying to ruin me again.”
“You do know that Darrigan is dead, don’t you?” Theo asked, his voice careful. “It was all over the papers—he jumped from the Brooklyn Bridge the day before the accident.”
“Did anyone find his body?” Jack asked.
“I’m not sure,” Theo said, uncertain.
“Then how can you know he’s dead?” Jack asked.
“They didn’t find his body in the wreckage, either,” Theo pointed out. “If he was in the same car as you, he would have been located.” But his tone was too patient, too condescending, and it made Jack bristle.
“I told you,” Jack said, his patience fraying. “He disappeared. They both did. There wouldn’t have been a body to find.”
The two traded glances again, and Jack felt fury building.
“I know what I saw—Darrigan and the girl were on the train with me. I’d just cornered them and was about to apprehend them. Ask the station police. . . . There was one of them on the car as well.”
Theo frowned. “There was an officer on the same car as you, but he didn’t make it.”
“You truly think that Darrigan and this girl caused a massive train derailment?” the girl asked. There was less doubt than interest in her voice now. “And then you think he disappeared. The only way that could be true is if he were—”
“Mageus,” Jack said, supplying the word.
“But the Brink,” she pressed, taking yet another step toward Jack’s bed. “There haven’t been any verifiable reports of feral magic outside the city borders for years. If Darrigan is Mageus, he wouldn’t have been able to pass through it.”