Bennett held out her hand, and a second later, she was looking at the Pride pin Fallon had given her. “Yes,” Bennett said, raising her eyes. “Yes, it was a gift, and I thought I lost it. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Landon said, flashing a smile. “And now for that tour.”

Before the door closed, Max was on his feet. “Care for a drink?” he said, pulling the stopper from a crystal decanter.

“It’s eleven in the morning, Max. A little early, don’t you think?” Bennett said, slipping the pin into her trouser pocket.

“I think I can drink whenever I’d like. It’s not as if time truly matters to us.”

Bennett’s eyebrows drew together. “What’s still weighing on you? Are you embarrassed you had to fess up about testing my blood in hopes of becoming a daywalker, or is it the fact that Napoleon now knows the secret, too?”

Max filled a crystal tumbler with a fifty-year-old single malt scotch and returned to his chair. He took a sniff of the rich, spicy liquid before taking a sip, and as the flavors of clove and orange peel faded in his mouth, he looked at Bennett. “I never gave you any details about when I found you in Bonn, but they are as carved into my memories as David’s physique is in Michelangelo’s masterpiece. I remember the smells. I remember the dampness, and I remember when I found you, you were naked.”

Bennett felt just a modicum of heat rush to her cheeks. “Right, well, that’s slightly embarrassing, but I don’t see the point of this.”

“You were hanging by your wrists, completely covered in your own blood and…and other matter, and when I freed you from the shackles and lowered you to the floor, I caught sight of the birthmark above your left breast.”

“So, you checked me out. Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, it’s not.” Max regarded Bennett for a long moment before he undid the button on his smoking jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bennett said, sitting forward in her chair.

“Showing you this,” Max said, opening his shirt. “Birthmarks are rarely hereditary; however, some do run in families. When I was a lad, I asked my father about it, and he told me that this one ran in his family for as far back as anyone could remember. Simply put, if you had Lumley blood in your veins, this mark will be on your chest.”

Bennett's eyes darted from Max’s birthmark to his face and then back again. “You think…you think we’re related?”