“Well, be that as it may, I wish I had a camera right now. The expressions on his face as he clings to your arm are quite adorable.”
“He is not clinging to my arm,” Jonas muttered as he looked down at Diego clinging to his arm. “Oh, God. I think he might be drooling on my jacket.”
His cousin tried hiding her laughter behind the pages of her book. “That is even more adorable.”
“It is not.”
Zaire returned to the benches and draped his arms casually over his knees. Humour built in his expressions as he glanced between him and Diego.
“Aw, now ain’t that something?” Zaire chuckled.
“Quiet, the both of you,” Jonas mumbled under his breath, hoping the warmth in his cheeks was not as evident as his annoyance. Thankfully, he was spared any more embarrassing discourse by an announcement over the loudspeakers.
“Passengers boarding the nineteen hundred ferry to Liverpool, please gather your belongings and queue at the departure dock,” instructed the smooth voice of a woman. “To speed up the boarding process, have your tickets at the ready.”
Diego lurched himself awake.
“Ay ay ay, already?” he groaned and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
Once Diego had stood, Jonas exhaled a breath he hadn’t even realised he had been holding. He proceeded to smooth out the wrinkles—and the unfortunate wet dribbles—on his jacket before anyone would notice.
Kierra retrieved the ferry tickets from her handbag. “All right, everyone, we have two four-berth cabins. Men in one room, women in the other.” She paused when she got to Oliver. “You’ll have to stay with the women, Oliver.”
He sighed and begrudgingly took his ticket while Aja giggled at him.
“Excellent, because I need more time with my little Ollie,” Annabelle stated. She drew the boy into a tight embrace.
“Argh, Mum,” Oliver complained, flushing pink in the cheeks. “I’ll never get to sleep with that bright yellow aura of yours.”
Within no time, the Irish Chapter had boarded the ferry and retired to their respective rooms. But with all the travel activity and the unsteady rocking of their transportation, Jonas decided shut eye would not come easily. Instead, he donned a jacket and made his way up to the outlook deck.
Muted lights faded as the boat left the hazy Dublin Port harbour behind. The crisp night air blended with the salty breeze and tickled Jonas’ nostrils. Overcast skies blanketed the stars, but the Magi Master knew if the heavenly bodies could shine through, he’d see the moon rising with Libra in the east.
Perhaps the scales of justice were tipping in their favour.
As he strolled starboard side, he caught sight of Aja leaning against the edge of the ferry. She had been so immersed with the surrounding seascape that she only turned her head once she sensed Jonas at her side.
“I couldn’t sleep,” explained his apprentice.
Jonas smiled. “Neither could I.”
The sea breeze rippled Aja’s coat as she held fast to the railing. “I miss Ezra so much.”
“As do we all. But we shall see him again very soon.”
Aja nodded as if trying to convince herself the words he spoke were the truth. She wiped her face with the palm of her hand and gazed out at the Irish Sea. “But what if we don’t? What if we are stopped by the Magi Gendarmerie? What if the Legerdemain consuls kill him before we arrive? What if—” She allowed the waves lapping against the vessel to swallow her voice. “I’m scared for him.”
“My intuition tells me Ezra is capable of things we can’t even imagine,” Jonas replied. “He can hold his own until we arrive.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“Mm?”
“About saving Ezra,” she prompted. “What made you switch gears?”
Jonas turned his sight skyward. While wisps of clouds obscured most of the celestial canopy, brilliant specs still managed to shine through the early April gloom. And Arcturus—now pulsing a vivid orange—bewitched the southern sky. Onward, it moved with purpose in its course across the galaxy. Its undetermined, diametric course.
There it was – the soft whisperings of guidance. The stars never failed to give him inspiration when he lacked it. And now, he appreciated it even more.
Bracing himself against the railing, Jonas leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “Tell me, Aja, what do you know of Arcturus?”
Aja turned to read Jonas’ expressions while her eyebrows knit together in confusion at the abrupt shift in conversation. “Er. Well, it’s the fourth brightest star in the night sky.”
“Good. What else?”
“I can locate it easily because it sits beside the constellation of Virgo.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Jonas answered. “Anything else?”
“Arcturus in my culture is called Swati, which means ‘very beneficent,’” Aja added.
“All excellent points,” Jonas commended her, “but did you know Arcturus is just one of a multitude of stars that moves differently than others in our sky? Instead of moving with them, it orbits in another plane altogether. And quite quickly, at that. Essentially, it travels with its unconventional group against the stream.”
Aja attempted a smile, but it lacked the life needed to sustain it. “That is very intriguing and all, but what does that have to do with our current situation?”
“We are the stars,” Jonas said with an encouraging smile. “We are a menagerie of radiant beings traversing through this life. As Magi, our path is not the same as our neighbours. It is in our very nature to travel against the stream, just like Arcturus. But sometimes, it becomes evident that even within our own Order, even within our own stream, we must take an entirely different route.”
“What are you saying?” enquired his apprentice. “That we should disregard the Administration’s mandates?”
“We should always respect those in authority,” Jonas answered. “But that does not mean we need to blindly follow a decree if it means abandoning what we have been put on this earth to do. And right now, there is a boy out there who needs our help.”
A chill conquered the space around them, causing the flame of the oil lamp on the deck to ripple with a transient restlessness. In the quiet, a determined stirring prodded at Jonas from within his core. A thirst to prove himself. A desperation to ensure the safety of a young Magus. And a longing to fulfil every promise he made before Felix joined the stars, for as long as the Administration would allow him.
Jonas lifted his eyes again to the heavens, fixating on Arcturus. For a moment, it looked as if the clouds would overtake the star in favour of smudging the Irish skyscape with the promise of rain. But the star, as tenacious as ever, sparkled through. Burning bright, as brief as a sigh. Insignificant, yet grander than anything that Jonas could ever dream of...
That was hope.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Under the Watchful Eye
An eerie fog had descended upon London as Ezra and the Legerdemain consuls made their way across the grounds of the Royal Observatory.
The trek to Greenwich had been almost as dreadful as the journey to Symon’s penthouse flat. Every time his captors would glare in his direction, Ezra’s nerves sparked into a frenzy. Nevertheless, Diederik and Symon remained tight-lipped, causing Ezra’s imagination to run rampant with the dastardly plans brewing behind their skulls.
From the moment he was apprehended in Hyde Park, Ezra scrambled to devise another getaway. Anything to lessen the chances of the inevitable. Twisting against his shackles, Ezra realised escape was nothing but a dream on the verge of waking life. Fragile and intangible. And if the devilish glint in Diederik’s eyes had weight, Ezra knew he’d be beaten to the ground several times over. He made Dennis look like a saint.
Diederik van der Campe.
The mere idea that someone like Jonas had been raised by someone like Diederik baffled Ezra. From darkness, light. From ashes, fire. An angel nurtured by a demon. Whatever the case, he made a mental not
e to discuss it in further detail with Jonas when he saw him again.
If he saw him again.
The three of them strode across the expansive lawn of Greenwich Park. Diederik’s hand never strayed too far from Ezra’s elbow. He grit his teeth as the consuls urged him along the walking paths toward the central structures. White accents on one building—the Flamsteed House, according to signposts—clashed against the grey-tinted landscape. Meanwhile, brownish brick culminated in domed towers atop the edifice, disrupted only by black birds returning to their roosts.
When they arrived at the entrance to Flamsteed, Symon yanked on the door handle and ushered Ezra inside. The antique atmosphere of the building overwhelmed Ezra’s senses. A faint buzzing festered in his eardrums while an array of brass instruments on tabletops whirred in a chaotic symphony. In fact, he had become so enamoured by the astronomical apparatuses that he did not even notice a woman had appeared before them.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Newport,” came her pleasant Greek accent.
Ezra’s heart sank when he recognised the woman from the fishing vessel that brought him back to London.
“Ezra, you remember Miss Eridian, don’t you?” Diederik asked.
It took everything in his power not to glare daggers at her.
She grinned, holding out her hand. “Assistant to Astronomer Royal Frederik Ackerly and Receptionist for the Legerdemain Consulate, at your service, Mr. Newport.”
Ezra refused to take her hand. While he couldn’t be certain, he had a distasteful feeling Miss Eridian was more than just an astronomer’s assistant and receptionist working for the Legerdemain. Something cruel danced behind her eyes; something wicked tugged at her tongue. Her precise, elegant movements mimicked that of an arachnid, spinning a beautiful—yet deadly—guise.
Resentment prickled in the air like electricity as Diederik directed a warning glare at Ezra. “Well, boy? Don’t be rude. Say hello.”
“It is no matter,” Andromeda laughed with a dismissive wave of her spindly fingers. “I am sure we’ll become great friends. Won’t we, Mr. Newport?”
A chill tingled down Ezra’s spine as she stroked his cheek.
Andromeda’s fingers grazed his cuffs and her eyes flicked upward at Diederik. “Out for a little stroll, are you?”
“What makes you think that?” Symon asked, dumbfounded.
“Why else would you keep your pet on a leash?” the woman replied, holding up Ezra’s wrists.
“Unfortunately, Miss Eridian, we are in need of your services,” Consul Diederik announced with a scowl. “I’m afraid our guest here has outgrown his welcome in Symon’s home.”
The woman folded her arms over the gemstone pendant on a long, silver chain around her neck. “I assume the both of you forgot what it was like to watch over an adolescent?”
“Not at all,” Symon snapped. Ezra expected him to say more in defence of himself, but Diederik held up a gloved hand.
“Adolescents I can manage,” Diederik responded. “Ones who rearrange the interior features of a penthouse are a different matter altogether.”
“Ah, we have an Architect in our midst,” Miss Eridian said, winking at Ezra. “I suppose you want me to take him to the Dousing Chambers for safe keeping?”
Gulping in terror, Ezra fought to keep his expressions neutral.
“If it wouldn’t be much trouble,” Diederik confirmed. “Only until his father comes to collect.”
“Certainly,” said Andromeda. Her long hair seemed to grow frizzier by the second. “But I’ll have you know the extent of my involvement is taking him to Julien. The Legerdemain Consulate is not a nursery, and I am not a nanny. Besides, you two should know the dangers of letting boys run loose in the Consulate.”
“Correct as always, Miss Eridian,” Symon murmured. He shared a dark look with Diederik that Ezra could not decipher.
The consul pushed Ezra forward into Miss Eridian’s clutches. “See to it he is properly watched. I do not want him slithering out of our grasp like the little serpent that he is.”
Ezra glowered at him.
“Be a good boy,” Symon chided with a tip of his bowler hat. “Let’s hope daddy shows up soon, eh?”
Andromeda secured a blindfold around Ezra’s eyes, plunging his world into darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The British Museum
Physically, Diego had never been to London. But through time manipulation, he had seen it all.
From the construction of Big Ben to the coronation of Queen Elizabeth, Diego’s exploration of the city spanned centuries. Who needed maps or travel agency consultations when one could witness a place through historic milestones? Every expedition into the past taught him more than he could have ever learned otherwise. And the knowledge he had brought back shed a fresh light on his incredible new surroundings.
Diego watched in awe as the buildings whirred past them in a dazzling blur. Fresh off the morning train from Liverpool, the Irish Chapter had hired two horse-drawn carriages, with Zaire, Ibrahim, Annabelle, and Kierra in one and Jonas, Oliver, Aja, and himself in another. According to Jonas, they were bound for the British Museum, where his friend Edison Bellinor would be waiting.
Over the past three years, Jonas had hardy breathed a word about Edison. All Diego knew was that they were close during adolescence but inevitably drifted once Jonas left Amsterdam. And, other than the fact that Edison had declared neutrality between the Magi and the Legerdemain (he must have been a Libra), Diego did not know much else.
But it was enough for Diego to know he did not trust Edison. No one was truly neutral. Even neutral parties had their preferences.
By the time they’d reached the British Museum, raindrops flecked the carriage windows. As quickly as they could manage, the Magi unloaded from their transports and, with their travel bags in hand, followed Jonas onto the grounds of the museum. Visitors queued within the entryway, their voices casting lively echoes off the polished floors. Parents walked hand-in-hand with their children while scores of secondary school students followed their teachers like ducklings seeing the world for the first time.
Hungry for the knowledge that only history could offer, Diego lingered near a glass display case protecting centuries-old Roman gladiator armour. Reverberations of the Past sparked his imagination as he pictured courageous victors donning the armour before battle. He made a mental note to visit the opening of the Roman Coliseum on one of his next adventures through Time.
“Keep up, Diego!” beckoned Oliver as the group moved onward.
The sensory experience left Diego dizzy with excitement. Before he knew it, he and the others had found themselves in the museum’s lower levels, away from the hubbub of the crowds and the lure of ancient artifacts.
Jonas guided them through a maze of corridors past a “Staff Only” sign. He rapped his knuckles over the door and waited in nervous impatience during the silence that followed.
A man in his early thirties with a neatly trimmed beard poked his face through the door opening.
“Jonas!” Edison welcomed him with a smile. “Come in, come in.”
Diego cringed. Edison Bellinor in the flesh. Diego was not expecting the sudden distress squirming in his stomach at the sight of him.
“It’s good to see you again so soon, Edison,” said Jonas as he led them into what looked to be an expansive artifact storage area. “Though I wish we were visiting on brighter circumstances.”
“Indeed,” Edison replied. He made a grand gesture into the room behind him. “Well, on that note, welcome to the inner sanctum of the British Museum!”
BETWEEN THE REMNANTS of exhaustion from the journey and the lingering irritability with Jonas, Diego had kept to himself for the remainder of the evening. He did not speak a word as the Irish Chapter unloaded their travel bags. Nor did he offer much in the way of assistance as they devised a plan to rescue Ezra.
Besides, they’ve got everything handled, Diego thought while Oliver worked with Annabel
le to create the ultimate cloaking potion, the Aura Eradicator. They don’t need me to muck anything up.
While the Irish Chapter erupted into lively conversation with their host over dinner, Diego chased his peas around his plate with a fork and downed several rounds of liquor in silence. For some reason, the light-hearted reminiscing between Jonas and Edison had become almost too much to bear.
“Jonas, remember when you accidentally set fire to that tulip field?” Edison chuckled, holding his drink to his lips until he could get control over his laughter. “I don’t think Farmer Seegers ever forgave you for that.”
“No, but he and my parents did make me replant it,” Jonas replied. “And at seventeen years old, I decided a career in flower farming would never be in my future.”
“Of course, I could never forget when you set the Legerdemain Consulate ablaze,” Edison continued, shoving Jonas with his shoulder. “That was impressive, to say the least.”
“You set the Consulate on fire?” Aja asked in surprise.
Oliver giggled until he nearly fell out of his chair. “Wow. That is quite the accomplishment!”
“They had it coming,” Jonas responded with a wink at his apprentices.
Diego chewed on his fork, thinking about the collection of items Jonas had set ablaze during the time he had known him. He had lost count of the bedding and curtains Jonas incinerated during their private moments. Certainly, Edison had no idea about those.
“Oh, Jonas, you are quite the fellow,” Edison remarked.
“Why, thank you, Edisonite,” said Jonas.
Both men dissolved into raucous laughter.
The more Edison spoke, the more Diego wished to disappear. Their friendship seemed so pure, so utterly perfect. Jonas and Edison had not conversed in over a decade, yet they were able to pick up right where they left off.
All Diego had with Jonas was an acquaintanceship barely holding on by a thread.
But perhaps, it was better that way.
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