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Oliver squirmed in his chair. “She probably just meant he wasn’t worthy of her because he was human.”
Schuyler nodded. “You may have a point there.”
“Cordelia wasn’t a big fan of the relationship, but do you really think your mother would bond with a guy like that?” Oliver asked gently. “Allegra gave up everything for him. He must be pretty special.”
“Maybe,” Schuyler grudgingly admitted. She’d always loved her father in that obligatory way that anyone has toward an absent relative—like she was supposed to love him because of who he was. But she’d never known him at all. Cordelia had never talked about him, and for Schuyler’s entire childhood, Allegra had been in a coma. When she’d woken up, all she’d cared about was the Van Alen Legacy. There had been no time to tell her daughter anything else, it seemed. Except, when she’d really needed her, Schuyler realized—her mother had appeared to her, right when Schuyler had been torn between choosing to follow her heart with Jack or to remain with Oliver. You cannot be with someone just because you don’t want to hurt him. You have your own happiness to think about.
But if Bendix was still alive…then where the hell had he been all these years? Why had he never visited Allegra? Never tried to contact Schuyler? Not once, not a card, not a phone call. Cordelia might have been an impediment, but what could that matter to a father who loved his daughter?
“Now, finish your drink, eat some oysters, and fortify for your Oprah reunion.” Oliver winked.
Schuyler laughed. “You’re a good friend, Ollie.”
“Happy to be of service,” he said, and bent over the table in a mock bow.
“Watch it, you almost dunked your hair in your drink,” Schuyler pointed out. “You just missed because it’s pretty much gone.”
“My hair?” Oliver asked in mock horror, running his hands through his thick locks.
“No, your drink.” Schuyler laughed.
“Must be time for a refill, then,” he said.
But before Oliver could summon the bartender, Schuyler heard an unusual beeping noise coming from his cell phone. “Did you get a text?” she asked. “That’s not what it usually sounds like.”
Oliver looked nervous as he picked up the phone to check his message. “Give me a second,” he said, and stepped away from the bar.
Must be pretty bad, Schuyler thought, because she saw his face turn pale.
He walked back to her chair but didn’t sit down.
“What is it?” she asked.
“That wasn’t a text message—it was the emergency beacon from the Repository in New York. It’s never gone off before, or at least I’ve never been the one to receive the signal, so it took me a minute to figure out what it was. Something really bad has happened. I have to go back right away.”
“Should I come with you?” Schuyler asked, worried.
“No, you have important things to do here. Go find your family tomorrow, and keep me updated on what happens. Stay and finish your drink, and get some food in you. We’ll talk soon.”
It was just as she’d expected. She was on her own. Except for that lingering feeling that someone was very close—and keeping an eye on her. But she had gotten accustomed to it; and since nothing had happened so far, she chalked it up to nerves and anxiety and decided to forget all about it.
TWENTY-ONE
Lawson
awson drove back to Hunting Valley as if the devil was on his tail, his feelings in turmoil. He’d always been impulsive, and he had left Bliss in New York without thinking—he’d been angry and had done the first thing that came to mind. Left. He’d wanted her to come with him, and while he had lied—he did understand that her friends were important to her—what he hadn’t been able to say was that he wanted to know that he was important to her too.
And just as she needed to find Oliver and Schuyler and reunite with Jane, he needed to find Arthur. Arthur had saved them when they were lost, and if he was lost now, it was their job to bring him back.
His wolf pack was waiting for him when he reached the cavern. Malcolm literally jumped for joy when he saw him, and Ahramin unexpectedly threw herself into his arms for a hug. “What was that for?” he asked.
“We missed you,” she said, shrugging.
Edon frowned. Ahramin must be trying to make him jealous, Lawson thought. She was always playing games like that. He wanted to tell Edon he had nothing to worry about.
“What do we know so far?” he asked.
“Look around,” Rafe said. “The place is a mess. No blood, but no claw marks, either. Doesn’t look like hounds from when they attacked the first time. This is new.”
