I put a hand out to stop her, blind with sudden grief, a band of pain tight around my chest as I struggled for air.

"I beg your pardon, Nell. That was an unfortunate reference, but it has relevance to the situation."

I shook my head to clear my vision, the memory of the dead, unseeing eyes of my friend slowly dissolving into bright silver-gray eyes subtly highlighted with expensive cosmetics, eyes that were watching me closely. "I am not a Charmer," I said carefully, my voice thick with emotion that I would not acknowledge.

She sighed, her gaze dropping for a moment to her hands as they rested on her legs. "I have a nephew named Damian. He is ten years old, and very dear to me, although I've been accused of spoiling him shamelessly. He was kidnapped three weeks ago. My brother Saer was away at the time, but as soon as he heard of the terrible event, he raced home and began to track Damian. Five nights ago he called me from a small town in the Moravian Highlands to tell me that he had found a clue to Damian's whereabouts. He believed the boy had been taken to England. Saer left immediately, and I have not heard from him since. I believe he, too, is being held prisoner, quite probably by the same being who is holding Damian. That or… another."

The pain in her eyes was not counterfeit, nor did I think she was mad. At least, I believed that she believed what she was telling me.

"I'm very sorry," I said sincerely. "Have you contacted the police?"

"Police?" She looked startled for a moment, then shook her head. "No, the police cannot help me. My brother and nephew are beyond their reach."

"I'm sorry," I said again, spreading my hands wide. "I wish I could help you, but I'm no detective, and certainly no expert in tracking people—"

"I do not expect you to find them for me," she interrupted.

"Then what—"

"You are a Charmer. The aid I seek from you—the aid I need—lies in your ability to charm."