Sinclair paced the length of the large parlor, back and forth, wall to wall, his face creased in worry, his hair tousled.
"I can't believe we were fooled like that!" he ranted. "That whole tip was a wild goose chase to take me away from Samantha, and now she's gone."
"Now dear," said his mother, placing her hand on his arm. "Calm down. We've got runners combing the city. Your brother and friends are out searching."
"And I should be with them," he cried.
"No, you need to be where you can be found quickly should we receive news," said Elizabeth. "I know this has to be frustrating. I am worried sick about Samantha. We all are. We will find her."
"I don't understand how she was taken in the first place. I thought you had the defenses up around the house?" He couldn't help his accusatory tone.
"I did, which means whoever took her either knows how to get around the magic or is a family member unaffected by it."
"A traitor!" Sinclair spat.