Wonderstruck

by Allie Therin

  Rory furrowed his brow as Ellis withdrew the Venom Dagger.

  “Enchanted blade.” Ellis carefully slipped the blade between the door and the frame. “It doesn’t just paralyze, it cuts through just about anything.”

  A moment later, the bolt had been cut, and Gwen carefully inched open the door. She frowned and pointed to the carpet. “See that?”

  Rory craned his head. The penthouse’s marble floor seemed to glitter under the lights, a layer of sparkling dust from wall to wall stretching into the apartment with no path around it.

  “That’s an enchanted dust,” she said. “A nasty poison designed to trap any intruders in hallucinations.”

  The lead ring box was heavy in Rory’s pocket. He hesitated, then said, “Dust can be blown away.”

  Gwen glanced at him appraisingly. “You think you can do that?”

  “I think we’re gonna have to let him try,” Ellis muttered, sounding unenthusiastic.

  Rory popped open the box and slipped the ring on his finger. He eyed the glittering dust that covered the floor in front of them.

  Just a breeze. Light and easy. Like blowing out your birthday candle.

  He closed his eyes and reached for his magic.

  The wind came from behind him, soft against his cheek as it blew past into the penthouse.

  Keep it soft—shit.

  The wind leapt from his control like a boisterous kitten out of his hands. Glass shattered, something crashed, and then something heavy hit the floor.

  He winced and cracked one eye.

  Gwen was looking down the hallway into the room beyond, her expression speculative. “Two broken vases, an overturned plant, and a toppled chair.” She glanced at him. “But the dust has been cleared from our path.”

  Rory sighed.

  “Buck up, kid,” said Ellis. “We can call this a victory.”

  They hurried down the hallway into the penthouse. The first room was a parlor, with velvet chairs and gold-framed art on the wall. Gwen was looking all around, her pupils dilated again.

  She pointed down a hall. “The master bedroom. That’s where the most magic is concentrated.”

  In the bedroom, she led the way to a wardrobe. “A locked wardrobe hiding something huge that blocks my aura-sight.” Her lips quirked in a half smile. “Who wants to bet it’s a safe?”

  Rory folded his arms. “Good thing I’m here, then.”

  Ellis still had his dagger in hand. He stepped up to the wardrobe and slid the blade between the doors to cut the lock. He opened the doors to reveal a three-foot-high safe.

  Rory crouched in front of it and put his hand on the dial. He closed his eyes, and reached back in history.

  A moment later, he had the lock undone, the code cracked as easy as the safes and trunks he got into at Arthur’s place.

  He opened the safe door, and Gwen inhaled sharply.

  Inside the safe was a clock, older than any antique Rory had ever seen. It was maybe two feet tall, built of delicate filigreed gold with spires at the top like a castle. The round clock face had at least three dials of different sizes and that many hands, with circles of roman numerals, zodiac signs, and more symbols Rory didn’t recognize. Rory couldn’t see the magic like Gwen did, but he could feel it against his skin, nothing like the scorching pomander that left his throat dry, but a magnet, like the lodestone, pulling at the magic in his blood.

  “Oh wow,” he breathed.

  “The siphon,” Gwen said softly. “It’s beautiful.”

  She carefully pulled it from the safe with a soft grunt as Ellis swiped a sham off one of the pillows on the bed. Gwen wrapped the siphon clock in the case and held it securely to her chest.

  “We’d best get moving.”

  * * *

  My plans were changed.

  I see. Changed by what?

  Not what. Who.

  Down below, in the live magic show on the stage, half a dozen knives were embedded in the wheel around the pretty woman. The man in the tuxedo was taking a bow for an applauding audience.

  The hairs on Arthur’s neck were standing on end.

  If Jade was nervous, she was hiding it perfectly. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “Who changed your plans?”

  “The same man who’s forcing me to allow your friends to steal the siphon.”

  Arthur froze.

  Jade blinked several times. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t play coy, Miss Laurent.” There was something ugly blazing in the seller’s eyes even as the rest of him sat perfectly still. “You can’t possibly imagine how enraging it is to sit here and let myself be robbed. Me, Lord Blanshard, with magic Baron Zeppler can only dream of.”

  Jade leaned forward, without fear. “Then tell us why you are.”

  “As if it’s my choice,” the seller, Lord Blanshard, spat. “He wants you to steal it. But frankly, I would rather both of you were dead.”

  Blanshard’s two henchmen suddenly stepped forward.

  Arthur pushed off the wall, fists ready—

  The audience below shrieked. There was a high-pitched buzz of metal whizzing through air as the woman tied to the wheel screamed—and three knives cut like bullets across the balcony, stopping an inch from Blanshard’s and his two henchmen’s throats.

  One of the henchmen let out a strangled yelp. Blanshard glanced down at the knife floating at his throat, then raised his eyebrows at Jade. “Not a dream reader, then.”

  “I’m afraid not,” said Jade.

  “And I’ve underestimated you.”

  “It would seem so.” Jade smiled, her eyes narrowed. “Jianwei, darling, I think we have no more need for pretenses.”

  Blanshard’s eyes flicked to the right, where Arthur assumed Zhang’s astral projection was suddenly visible.

  “Is our path clear?” Jade asked the air.

  “You’re playing right into his hand,” Blanshard said lowly. “This is what he—” His mouth suddenly closed as if on its own, his lips unnaturally stuck together. Rage flared in Blanshard’s eyes again.

  Jade abruptly stood. “Let’s go, Arthur.”

  Arthur didn’t ask questions. He passed his would-be assailant, the knife still hovering at the other man’s throat, and reached for the curtain, holding it open as Jade strode at an almost-run in front of him.

  They thundered down the stairs together, Jade moving impressively quickly in her heels. “This way,” she said, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from the main doors. “And quickly; I can’t hold those knives forever, and I’m almost too far already.”

  They burst out the side of the building. Zhang’s physical form was at the curb, holding a taxi door open.

  “Let’s go!” he called. “The others got the siphon; they’re on their way to the cabaret.”

  Arthur let Jade and Zhang in, then climbed in behind them just as Blanshard’s henchmen came running out the main doors of the building.

  But as their cab pulled away from the curb, leaving the henchmen behind, Arthur felt no relief, only more trepidation than ever.

  You’re playing right into his hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The cab took them across Paris, back to the cabaret. Arthur went ahead of Jade and Zhang this time, all the way up the stairs. Most of the space on the building’s top floor was taken up by a small lounge for performers and tenants.

  Ellis met them at the door. “Keep it down,” he said to Arthur in a harsh whisper, as he blocked the doorway. “The kid’s in a trance.”

  Worry flared in Arthur. “Where is Rory?” He pushed past Ellis, into the room.

  Ellis grabbed his arm. “I said keep it down,” he hissed. “He’s with Gwen, scrying the siphon. If anyone can make a bit of fifteenth-century magic work again, it’s those two.”

  Arthur set his ja
w. He looked at Ellis’s hand, still on his bicep. “Let go of me,” he said, low and warningly.

  Ellis released him, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just trying to keep you from charging in like a bull elephant, all right? You do that, charge in to save people without thinking it through. It’s how you get hurt.”

  Their eyes met, and for a moment, Arthur was years away, to the day in Germany when he’d first seen magic. The day Arthur had found Ellis—one of his own men—surrounded by enemy soldiers and rushed in to help just as Ellis had vanished into invisibility. Arthur had been taken prisoner in his place, and he still bore the scars Hyde had carved into his chest.

  But Ellis could have left him to die. Instead, he’d come back for Arthur.

  Arthur swallowed and moved farther into the room. As he took in the scene, his skin broke out in prickles.

  The lounge was full of mismatched furniture, the velvet worn bare in places. There were glass doors to a tiny smoking balcony at the far end, standing wide open to let in the night breeze.

  Rory and Gwen were on the green rug on the floor, across from each other. Rory had taken off the ruffled collar and black skullcap, and was dressed now in only the loose white shirt and trousers with his blond curls uncovered and his eyes still ringed by kohl. Gwen still had on her red party dress and long black gloves, but now she also wore her amulet and Rory his ring.

  Between them, on the floor, was the strangest clock Arthur had ever seen. Almost like a miniature castle, about two feet tall, bright gold filigreed sides and turrets at the top. The clock face was circular, with multiple dials laid on top of each other like gears on the back of a watch. The colors were beautiful, turquoise blue, tropical green, and black onyx inlaid with concentric symbols in gold.

  Rory had his hands on the clock, his eyes closed and his lips moving. Whatever he was saying, it was too quiet for Arthur to pick up. Gwen’s eyes were open but unfocused, her wide pupils reflective black as she stared at the siphon clock like she was drinking in its secrets.

  Jade moved quietly into the room behind Arthur and Ellis, and took a seat on a chaise. Zhang sat at her side, the pair of them watching Gwen and Rory intently.

  But Arthur stayed on his feet. “I don’t think this is safe,” he whispered to Ellis. “The seller, Lord Blanshard, said he’d been forced to allow us to steal the siphon. Who forced him? With what? What if we’re playing right into some kind of trap?”

  Ellis made a face, but said, “Then it’s even more important he scries it now.”

  “Why?” Arthur demanded. “If Rory knows its secrets—”

  “Because you want to put that pomander out of commission, don’t you?” said Ellis. “But what if, instead of just hiding it again, we could destroy it? Keep all the non-magic folks safe?”

  Arthur hesitated. “That would be my preference,” he admitted. “But why would you care about that?”

  “Because I’m the only paranormal in my family, Ace. I got nieces and nephews back in North Carolina, and Gwen’s got non-magic family too. Maybe we don’t go see them anymore, but you think we want some piece of fifteenth-century magic like that pomander loose in the world any more than Jade and Mr. Zhang do?”

  Arthur admittedly hadn’t thought about that. “But we left the pomander in New York. It’s too soon to scry the siphon—”

  “I’m willing to give up my relic.”

  Arthur glanced at him in surprise.

  “It’s not just a magical blade. It’s full of paralysis magic. The Venom Dagger, remember?” Ellis’s eyes were on Gwen. “We’re not taking the relics away from the subordinate paranormals, they need them. They’re drowning in magic otherwise. So I offered my dagger, because if it goes wrong, I’ll keep my head—well.” His jaw tightened. “What’s left of my head. I’m aware I’m not the man you once knew.”

  Despite himself, Arthur felt a pang of sympathy. “It’s not as if the last couple years have been easy for you.”

  “It got a lot better once Gwen and I found our way back to each other.” Ellis gestured at the dagger in its hilt on his belt. “You want to know if you can destroy the pomander. You ought to be sure it’s gonna work before you go messing with a relic that enslaves non-magic minds, and you don’t have an extra relic back in New York. So the kid scries it now, and then we siphon the magic out of my dagger as a test run.”

  Arthur furrowed his brow. He watched Rory’s lips move. “I don’t hate everything about that plan,” he finally admitted. “But if Rory scries the siphon, then he will have more knowledge that others might be willing to kill for.”

  “Yeah,” said Ellis. “But you already have to keep your sweetheart away from Zeppler for the other secrets he holds. What’s one more?”

  One more was one more, the secrets Rory held stacking higher and higher, making him an evermore wanted prize for a telepath who could pick everything out of his mind.

  They were silent for several minutes, then Arthur felt Ellis’s eyes were on him. “How you holding up?” he said, even more quietly.

  Arthur’s lips thinned. “Gwen told you about my aura?”

  “We don’t keep secrets from each other.” Was that judgment in Ellis’s tone? “You told the kid yet?”

  Arthur folded his arms. He didn’t owe Ellis that answer.

  Across the room, Rory suddenly pulled his hands away from the siphon, his eyes flying open. His gaze went straight to Arthur, his expression lost and relieved all at once.

  Arthur’s chest clenched. He held up a hand, moving his fingers in a quiet wave, hoping Rory got the message.

  Always here. Always your anchor.

  He could have sworn he felt an answering sizzle in his veins. Because now, Arthur wasn’t an anchor so much as a walking wound, disintegrating in place, held together only by Rory’s magic—

  He blew out a breath.

  Rory slowly got to his feet, not quite meeting Arthur’s eyes. “The paranormals who made the original relics killed people to create them,” he said grimly. “But we’re not making a new relic, we’re destroying one, so we don’t need a corpse. I can do it with a couple donors of paranormal blood, some gold flakes and something like a farmer’s almanac. And all of you get out while I set up. No one else is ever gonna know exactly how this works.”

  * * *

  Alone in the room, Rory closed the balcony doors, just to be safe. He turned and stared blankly at the wall above the settee, at framed posters of cabaret performers he didn’t recognize.

  Gwen told you about my aura?

  We don’t keep secrets from each other. You told the kid yet?

  Even deep in the siphon, he’d felt Arthur return, heard his deep voice from a distance as he talked to Ellis. He’d been relieved to have Arthur back—until he heard that part.

  Because whatever Arthur wasn’t telling him, Gwen and Ellis knew about it, and it had to do with his aura.

  Was it something Rory’s magic had done to him?

  Rory rubbed his face. He couldn’t deal with this yet. He had to focus on recreating the ritual he’d seen in the siphon’s past while Ellis was still willing to part with his dagger.

  Jade returned a few minutes later with a small bottle labeled in a language Rory didn’t recognize, full of small gold flakes floating in the clear liqueur. Zhang was the one who turned up a newspaper with the sunrise and sunset times.

  Rory made Ellis stand outside while he let Jade and Zhang stay back just long enough for her to wipe her blood on the clock hand with the moon, and Zhang on the sun.

  “Are you all right?” Jade asked with concern, as she wiped her bloody finger. “This is very old magic you’re messing with.”

  “Old magic’s kind of my thing,” Rory said quietly, and she squeezed his arm.

  After Jade and Zhang left, alone in the room again, Rory carefully set the solar ecliptic hand to line up with Jade’s s
ign, Gemini, and the moon hand to Zhang’s Aquarius. He fished gold flakes out of the bottle and placed them along the roman numbers for the night’s moonrise.

  He went back to the door, where Gwen and Ellis were waiting on the landing. Their heads were together, and Gwen was saying something in a whisper so quiet Rory couldn’t make any words out.

  “You coming, Ellis?” he asked pointedly.

  Ellis and Gwen met each other’s eyes, then Ellis ducked his head to press a quick kiss to Gwen’s lips. “Where do you want me?” he asked, as he closed the door behind him and followed Rory deeper into the room.

  “On the floor.” Rory pointed to the siphon clock. “You’re gonna hold your dagger in your right hand, and put your other hand on the top of the siphon.”

  Ellis sat on the floor and pulled the Venom Dagger out of its scabbard. The rubies on its hilt caught the room’s dim light. “If you accidentally kill me, Gwen’ll torture you to death,” he said dryly. “Just so you know.”

  Rory gave him a flat look. “I’ve never killed anyone. I’m not gonna start with you.”

  “I’ll believe that when this is over.” Ellis shifted on the floor, and the light caught his wedding ring, a thick band prominent on his fourth finger. Looked like pure gold, without stones or any other metals set in.

  Rory frowned. “You should take that ring off.”

  “My wedding ring?” Ellis said sharply. “No. I never take it off.”

  “It’s gold, like the flakes,” Rory said impatiently. “It could mess with the magic transfer.”

  Ellis’s eyes narrowed. “Did you actually see a wedding band messing with the siphon in its past?”

  “Well—no—”

  “Then it’ll be fine. I’m not taking it off without a better reason.”

  Rory huffed. “Fine,” he said. “But focus on the siphon, all right? We’re trying to suck the magic out of the dagger and release it into the air.”

  He crouched in front of the clock and motioned to the knife Ellis was holding. “Wipe some of your blood on the zodiac hand, then set it to your sign.”