Marcel Bossard.
Her mother had no idea what these pages were. Semele flipped to the back and found the place where she had stopped reading the night before.Here were the lost pages.Marcel had given her father a complete copy of Ionna’s manuscript, and her father had translated every last word.
King of Pentacles
Semele looked out the train window on her way to New York. The scenery passed by in a muted blur, like an impressionistic painting she was no longer a part of. She now had Ionna’s cards along with her father’s copy of the manuscript.
This must have been why Marcel and her father were going to meet.
Semele shook her head, her mind spinning at the implications. She tried to center her thoughts. First she needed to authenticate and date the cards. She had to be sure they were real, and there was only one person in the world she could trust with that project.
She had called Cabe right before getting on the train. He agreed to meet at their favorite coffeehouse. He would run the tests today and then get the cards back to her after her morning meeting with Mikhail. Her only problem was how to broach the subject of Raina with Cabe. He needed to know she couldn’t be trusted.
Semele’s hands instinctively tightened around her purse. Rinalto’s rosewood box was nestled inside, bundled in some of Helen’s old scarves for protection. She was afraid to even look at the cards. Her father’s translation was tucked next to them.
Why was her father’s version complete, while hers had missing pages? She could have taken out the remaining pages and read them on the train, but she was worried about what she would find at the conclusion of Nettie’s story. Someone else didn’t want her to see that part either, or they wouldn’t have hidden the pages from her.
Theo—he was at the heart of all this. He had to have known about their fathers’ connection, that Marcel had given Joseph the manuscript. She had so many questions for him. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
***
As soon as she got back to Manhattan she backed up her hard drive on an external. Then, borrowing a page from her father, she opened a safe-deposit box and locked away the hard drive. If her computer was stolen, she would still have a copy of the manuscript. That alleviated some of her fear. She kept her father’s translated copy with her. No one knew about that—she hoped.
She hurried to the café to meet Cabe but slowed down in horror as soon as she walked through the door.
Cabe was sitting in the back booth with Bren.
Bren.She had never called him back. She gave them a meek wave and a smile. Bren glared back; he was furious.
Cabe hurried over and gave her a hug, whispering into her ear, “Sorry.”
“You could have warned me,” she muttered under her breath.
Cabe pulled up a chair, leaving her and Bren to face off on opposite sides of the booth. Cabe tried to lighten the mood by poking fun at her outfit. “Looking good, Catgirl.”
She shot him a withering glance. She had raided her old closet at her parents’ house and the pickings had been slim. The black turtleneck sweaterdress looked sixties mod with her winter boots. The last time she had worn this dress was in college.
“Listen, guys, I can’t stay long.” Cabe made a show of checking his watch. “But you two feel free to hang.”
Bren ignored Cabe’s attempt at normalcy and kept his attention on Semele. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” He leaned forward. “I’ve been calling you all week.” He stressed every word, clearly livid.
She studied her hands. “I’m fine. I’m in the middle of a work crisis—”
“And you can’t return one phone call?”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. It felt like they were strangers now. “I’ve had my phone off so I could deal with this translation thing I’m doing.” She glanced up. “I’m really sorry,” she added, knowing it wouldn’t help.
Bren glared at her until Cabe finally spoke. “Well, you should have called or texted… even e-mailed.”
Semele shot Cabe an annoyed look.
“And what’s this about you being followed?” Bren demanded.
Semele gave Cabe another look. She couldn’t believe he’d told him.
“Everything’s fine.”
“No, you need to go to the police,” Bren insisted.
