Wonderstruck

by Allie Therin

  “Oh,” said Rory. “Yeah, okay, that’s better.”

  “Is it?” Arthur said pointedly.

  “I mean, I’d rather deal with them than your ex. Aside from the trying to kidnap and kill us part, of course.”

  “Trying to kidnap? What try? We’ve both been successfully kidnapped by that lot, full stop.” They had driven into a more urban area now, shops and markets, pedestrians everywhere. “Am I the only one considering that perhaps we want to think twice before we pop into their lair for a spot of tea?”

  Rory scrunched his nose. “I feel like Gwen’s too pretty to have a lair.”

  “I feel like you’re not seeing the big picture here.” Arthur turned onto another random street, because Red Sox notwithstanding, he really didn’t want Rory to have to wield the wind in Boston again if they could help it.

  “I am, actually,” said Rory. “Because if that Sebastian fella’s with them, he’s got that tattoo that confuses magic. Zeppler won’t be able to track me with magic.”

  Arthur furrowed his brow. “But even if you can put Gwen and Ellis aside, London is also much closer to Germany than New York is.”

  “Zeppler just reached across the ocean to send a lackey and the cops after me in Boston,” Rory said grimly. “I don’t think it’s safer to stay here anymore.”

  Arthur sighed. “No,” he said, very quietly. “I don’t think it is either.”

  They were quiet for several minutes, Rory still watching out the back of the car as the side roads turned to the highway. Arthur kept his foot on the gas but relaxed, just a fraction.

  He wanted to ask more about the fire paranormal, but Rory suddenly said, “How would I pay for London?”

  “I’d pay. Yes, me,” Arthur said immediately, cutting off Rory’s protest. “Funding is what I can contribute. I don’t have magic, the rest of you have to let me do something.”

  “You do more than just bankroll stuff,” Rory shot back. “Besides, if you’re paying for me scrying, wouldn’t you basically be my boss? Wouldn’t that be weird?”

  “Terribly weird,” Arthur agreed. “You’d have to boss me around quite a bit in private to make it up.”

  Rory’s lips grudgingly turned up in a smile. Another moment went by, and then Rory let out a breath. “I’ve only ever been outta New York twice, counting today. Neither time has gone real well.”

  “But both times could have gone worse,” Arthur pointed out. “You’re not chained to anything just because it’s who you’ve always been or what you’ve always done. You can wake up on a new morning and choose a new path, a new adventure.”

  “Guess so,” Rory said, with more softness than usual. Arthur chanced a glance at him. Rory was chewing on his lower lip, looking lost in thought. “I didn’t have a good experience with boats.”

  “It’s likely to be different when you’re not bound and gagged. Although, I can’t promise what will happen if we actually do find Gwen and Ellis in London, because I seem to be the only one who realizes there’s every possibility you’ll just end up in cuffs again.”

  “Maybe.” Rory was smiling again, though, small and almost shy. “London, huh.”

  * * *

  They needed two days to get everything ready. Arthur had to see his family and take care of affairs, whatever that fancy rich-fella talk meant, so Rory slipped back to his boarding house to pack everything up.

  He was standing in the middle of his room, staring down at his quilt and his trunk, when he heard a quiet tap-tap-tap at his third-floor window.

  Outside his window, a pebble was floating in midair. After a second, it tapped itself against his window again, like a knock.

  Rory grinned. He went to the window and saw Jade three stories down in the alley. He waved, and a moment later, the air flickered around him as Zhang’s astral projection materialized in his room. “We came to help.”

  “Oh!” Rory flushed. “I mean—I don’t got much stuff, you don’t have to—”

  “We want to,” said Zhang. “Can we come up?”

  Less than three minutes later, there was a polite knock on his door, and then Jade was slipping in.

  Rory bit his lip. “The floor’s men only,” he said to Jade, “and I don’t want you to get in trouble—”

  “I assure you, I’m not in the least bit worried.”

  She was looking around his room thoughtfully, in her pretty clothes, and Zhang’s astral projection looked just as nice. Rory remembered, belatedly, just how shabby his room was. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Sorry it’s so—you know.”

  They both looked at him in surprise. “Do you really think we came to judge your home?” Jade said gently.

  “It’s not home,” Rory admitted. “I just slept here. Home was the antiques shop and now it’s—well, I got somewhere that feels like home, anyway,” he amended awkwardly. “I really only got four things I care about. The quilt, the hat, the compass and Ace’s postcards. Ace said I can keep anything I want at his pad while we’re gone, so I told my landlord I don’t need the room anymore.”

  Arthur had pointedly made a space for Rory’s trunk in his own closet right next to all his own stuff. It’s not permanent, and it can’t be permanent, Rory reminded himself. Arthur’s got a reputation to worry about. But it made his heart feel soft and squishy anyway.

  “The hat can of course come to London.” Jade moved her hand, and the quilt began folding itself. “As for the rest of it, we’ll help you pack while we tell you what Zhang’s mother was able to dig up on the fire paranormal.”

  As they crammed Rory’s few possessions into his trunk, Zhang’s astral projection explained. “We think his name is Jean-Pierre Mercier, also known as Jack. Grew up in England with his mother, but his father was French.”

  “Possibly a relative of our friend Philippe,” added Jade.

  Rory pursed his lips. “So they both got fire magic?”

  “Sometimes magic types can run in families,” said Zhang. “The man with the paranormal tattoo, Sebastian de Leon, has enervation magic and his cousin paints magical traps. Two powers that thwart magic in the same family.”

  “Philippe was pyrokinetic,” said Jade. “He could control fire.”

  “This other fella lit his own hand up,” Rory said, “but the votive candles in the church didn’t seem to react.”

  Zhang’s projection and Jade exchanged a glance. “Pyrokinetic aura?” Zhang offered.

  Jade nodded grimly. “Able to set his own aura alight. That’s not someone I want working with Zeppler.”

  “But why would he?” said Rory. “If Zeppler’s the one who made Ellis kill Philippe, why would this Mercier fella get involved?”

  Jade shrugged helplessly. “Very quick thinking on your part to use the ring, though.”

  “He wasn’t expecting it.” Rory closed the trunk lid. “And he looked pretty mad when I pulled the wind outta my pocket. Especially when he was blown straight into the cops.”

  “I don’t think Baron Zeppler knew about the ring.” Jade frowned. “But we have to assume he will now. And I’m afraid it’s only going to make him more interested in you.”

  Rory shivered. He knew a lot more than he wished he did. The ring was a heavy reminder of that, in its box in his pocket, where it lived now. “I don’t want to meet him either.”

  “We’re not only here to help you pack,” Jade said reassuringly.

  “I’m checking the route to Arthur’s place,” said Zhang, his projection flickering out.

  Jade moved her fingers, and the trunk locked itself. “We’ll be using fake names and papers on our travels. We have to behave as if Baron Zeppler has contacts everywhere. Arthur is handling the tickets.”

  “Hooray, another boat,” Rory muttered.

  Jade grinned and nudged him. “I don’t know how he did it on such short notice, but he managed to get two r
ooms next to the second-class veranda, so you’ll have easy access to fresh air in case you get seasick.”

  Rory paused. “Ace is gonna be in second class?”

  “First class tends to be full of people with questions, and Arthur might even be recognized. It’s easier to explain away two men sharing a room as splitting the cost of a second-class berth instead of traveling third.”

  “I didn’t think I’d be in first class too. I guess I thought he would and I’d be down in steerage. I should know Ace better than that.” Rory shrugged, but he was smiling. “Sharing a room, huh.”

  “Well, before you get too excited,” she said, with a rueful smile, “I should probably also mention we’re staying in one of Lord Fine’s empty properties in London.”

  Rory groaned. “One of them? Geez. Yeah, why not have ten houses for one fella? Not like some kids are homeless.” He pursed his lips. “We can’t stay with him. I mean, yeah, I don’t like him, but that’s not why. We can’t get him mixed up in magic.”

  “Absolutely not,” she agreed. “But apparently he’s up in the Lake District enjoying the spring. Arthur promised this is an industrial building used for storing shipments, the perfect spot to lay low while we work out just how closely we want to align ourselves with Gwen and Ellis.”

  “I guess,” Rory grumbled.

  Chapter Eleven

  Two days later, Arthur had Rory’s trunk in his closet at home and they were at the pier on the Hudson, boarding a French ship bound for London. Rory was tense, but he wasn’t complaining, just looking around the second-class deck with cautious eyes.

  Their cabin was as short on space as Rory’s boarding house room had been, with two narrow wooden bunks built into the wall, a mirrored stand with hot and cold water for the washbasin, and small settee beneath the porthole. Nothing fancy, but clean and perfectly serviceable—well, except for trying to fit two of them on one of those beds.

  Arthur frowned. He was too tall to fit in one of the beds alone.

  But Rory looked delighted. “This is ours all week?”

  Arthur smiled at the first note of pleasure in Rory’s voice since they’d boarded. He took Rory’s suitcase out of his hand. “Why don’t you take the top bunk?” he said, sliding the case under the lower bed. “You’ll be able to see out the porthole when you wake.”

  Rory’s lips quirked up. “I was thinking I’d just sleep on top of you.”

  “We’ll break the bed,” Arthur warned, but he was already reaching for Rory.

  The bunks were too close together for Arthur to sit upright on the bottom one without knocking his head, so he sat on the settee instead, pulling Rory down onto his lap.

  Rory settled facing him, with his knees outside Arthur’s legs. His arms came around Arthur’s neck, a little tighter than usual. “I keep thinking about my mom crossing the sea,” he admitted. “But this is way better than what I was picturing. This is nice.”

  The cabin was, objectively speaking, the worst quarters Arthur had ever had on a civilian ship. But he had never needed the opulence of first class to enjoy himself, and the company more than made up for the smaller space and lack of marble. They’d have seven days together to mind their own business on the ship, to enjoy meals with Jade and Zhang, to talk and read and just be a normal couple—

  “And I keep reminding myself that I don’t really have to be afraid of the ocean.” Rory patted his pocket where, at Arthur’s insistence, he’d taken to always carrying the Tempest Ring in its box. “After all, I can control the wind.”

  Oh. Well. Perhaps not a normal couple.

  * * *

  The ship left the pier and began its way down the Hudson. Rory stood between Arthur and Jade on the second-class deck and watched Manhattan pass by on the—what did Arthur call it?—the port side. The sun was bright and warm, and the sky cloudless and blue over the skyscrapers.

  “This is nice too,” Rory admitted. “And the niceness is a big lie, right? My mom said she threw up the whole trip. When does the ship’s rolling, I’m puking part start?”

  Jade laughed softly. “When we’re out in the open ocean,” she said apologetically, patting his arm. “Get lots of fresh air, don’t try to read too much, and I do have some pills, if it comes to it.”

  Rory pursed his lips. There were some kids up on the deck, maybe seven or eight years old, fearlessly laughing and pointing to the waves. He watched them play for a minute as the ship rounded Lower Manhattan, the sun catching the top of the Woolworth Building.

  He wrapped his fingers around the railing. “No one let me throw myself off the side of this boat, yeah?”

  “I’d handcuff us together first,” Arthur said, with feeling.

  “Come on,” said Zhang. “There are some open chairs one level down, by the saloon.”

  “And you found them despite standing right next to me,” Arthur mused. “Probably a safe bet to assume you’ve seen the entire ship from the astral plane already.”

  “And the bay floor underneath us.”

  Arthur raised his eyebrows. “How deep can you go?” he asked, looking impressed.

  “How deep into where? The ocean?” Rory glanced over the side and stared into the water. “Do I want to know what’s down there?”

  “How deep depends on how fast the boat is moving.” Zhang glanced at Rory. “And probably not, unless you’re not bothered by tentacles.”

  “Tentacles? Are you—no, nope, no thank you, you can just keep that to yourself.”

  Manhattan was soon replaced by Brooklyn, and then for awhile they could see Long Island. They sat in the sun until it began to set, and there was nothing to see but endless ocean and the horizon line where the sky met water.

  When they got into the second-class dining room, Rory could’ve almost forgot he was in a boat, if it weren’t for the unsettling, continuous rolling, faint but unmistakable. “A week of motion, huh.”

  “You get used to it.” Jade scrunched her nose. “More used to it. Hopefully we won’t hit any storms, at least.”

  Rory’s eyes widened.

  “But if we do hit a storm, you’ll just blow it away,” Arthur reminded him. “Look, they have consommé and oyster crackers—that’s probably a safe bet until you see how your stomach fares.”

  Rory let the others do most of the talking while he ate. The dishes were steady on the table, at least; if the seas got rougher, he probably couldn’t even count on his spoon staying put.

  As he got to the bottom of his soup, Rory could’ve sworn he felt eyes on him. He jerked his head up, but the sensation was already gone.

  You’re just nervous on the boat, he told himself. You’re imagining things. “So what do we do on a ship for a week?” he asked, to distract himself.

  “There’s a library, a gymnasium, and a bar,” Arthur said, with appreciation. “A perk of choosing an international ship. One of the many,” he added, his gaze darting protectively toward Jade and Zhang.

  Rory snorted. “What am I gonna do in a bar?”

  “They might have darts, billiards, poker?” At Rory’s blank look, Arthur grinned. “I’ll teach you. Poker and darts, at least; I’m no great talent at billiards.” He leaned closer, and lowered his voice. “Or we can just stay in our room.”

  Rory’s lips quirked up.

  His smile was gone an hour later as he staggered outside to the dark promenade, swearing. “Jesus.” He leaned hard on the rail as nausea roiled through him. Far below, the ocean was deep black in the night, a roaring of wind and waves. “How does anyone stand this?”

  Arthur was next to him, warm and solid and obnoxiously not even remotely sick. “Is it already that bad?”

  “Yes!” Rory’s gorge rose again and he tried not to puke off the side of the boat.

  Arthur winced. “Maybe breathe through your nose?” he offered weakly. “Jade’s gone to get pills.”

>   The ship crested and then dropped down another wave. Rory swallowed back a fresh urge to vomit. “What’s in these pills?”

  “The adverts promise no morphine, cocaine, or opium, and Jade says they’re safe enough for paranormals,” said Arthur. “I think they’re made from belladonna.”

  “Isn’t that poison?” The ship hit another swell. Rory groaned. “Never mind, don’t care, poison sounds grand.”

  Jade arrived shortly like a pill-bearing saint, and Rory would have professed his love if she weren’t already one of his very favorite people in the world.

  He turned the box over in his hands as he swallowed two down. “These are seventy-five cents for one day’s worth. That’s gonna be five bucks just in pills if I need these all week.”

  Arthur blinked, looking politely confused. “But surely you’re going to let me buy medicine that stops you from vomiting?”

  Rory sighed. Didn’t seem fair that the rich got to have better medicine than the poor, regardless of whether Rory had gotten lucky enough to have someone willing and able to buy the pills for him.

  But the pills did help, not fully banishing the seasickness but getting it to something tolerable. It meant he was able to wander the ship with Arthur and even try learning some poker.

  Arthur seemed lighter, somehow, like he’d left a weight back in New York. Jade too, both of them less guarded and laughing more easily. Rory still had his own nerves, but it was worth it, seeing the two of them happy to be going somewhere without Arthur’s family pressures and American laws.

  On the third night of the trip, there was a jazz band performance for second class. Rory pulled on his suit again and tried his best to tidy his curls before following Arthur out of their cabin. The music was already audible from the stairs as they made their way down to D level, with its wide deck and public spaces like the gym and the lounge. The social hall was on the backside of the lounge, just above the big dining saloon on E.

  Inside the hall, the chairs and tables had been pushed against the wall to make a dance floor in the center. Rory found a couple chairs in the corner as Arthur went to get them drinks in the lounge.