by Allie Therin
Rory bit his lip. “Hyde and Shelley might have two relics? Are they still in New York? There’s gotta be half a dozen ships they could take outta here.”
“I’m scanning the piers.” Zhang’s eyes were still closed. “Finding nothing.”
“Come on.” Jade took Zhang’s hand. “Let’s check on your family. The train’s fastest.”
“I’m in too.” Rory took a step after them.
Arthur started behind him. “And me as well—”
“You can’t, you gotta scram.” Rory glanced over his shoulder. “Go check on your ex. Besides, your family’s counting on you.”
He was guileless and sincere and right. Arthur still hesitated. “But I—”
“It’s all right, Ace,” Jade called, still holding tightly to Zhang’s hand. “We’ve got this.”
“But—”
“Go on,” Rory said gruffly, then lowered his voice for Arthur’s ears alone. “You rolled out of bed to come here. It’s going to take you an hour just to doll back up for Fifth Avenue and I’m already mad I gotta let you go.”
“But...” Arthur stilled, watching as his friends disappeared into Grand Central’s commuters, to the stairs and the subway tunnels. He stood for a moment beneath the domed zodiac ceiling, the crowd parting irritably around him. Then, alone, he walked outside to hail a cab back to the Upper West Side.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Dragon House was empty, although it was unlikely to stay that way once it got closer to lunch. Rory, Jade, and Zhang made their way to the door at the back and down to the library to join Mrs. Wang and Ling.
Rory caught the tail end of their rapid conversation in Chinese, but his eyes were fixed on the small brass sphere not much bigger than a marble, which sat on the round table in the center of the library. “They didn’t steal the ring.”
“No.” Mrs. Wang was frowning. “I pulled it from the trunk, to be sure. But they left it. They left all sorts of items.”
She pointed at the table, where the solid brass sphere sat innocently alongside a small statue, an antique microscope, his compass, and two vials of potions, both blue. Rory’s skin was already breaking out into prickles of want. He probably should say something. Probably should tell everyone to go ahead and put the ring back in the trunk, or maybe in something lead. And he would. Right now.
“Are those Pavel’s potions?” That...wasn’t what he’d meant to say. He slouched awkwardly. “They’re coming back today, right? Sasha said Saturday.”
Mrs. Wang nodded. “The Taussigs expect them back.”
“And with the way things have been going, we could certainly use superstrength and alchemy.” Zhang picked up the vials. “I’ll move these; wouldn’t want those to get set off on accident. Set off around the rest of us, at least; you’re probably not in much danger.”
Rory blinked. “I’m not?”
“We think those are knockout draughts, like Gwen and Ellis used on Arthur,” Zhang said, as he set the potions up on the highest shelf. “You’ve got much stronger magic than one of those.”
Jade had knelt next to one of the trunks. It was a beautiful dark wood that was nearly black, reinforced with iron and leather. She pointed at the lid. “This trunk was welded shut with a blowtorch. Someone sliced the iron straight through. That would take the sharpest of blades.”
“Blades?” Rory asked tightly. “Or claws? ’Cause those claws Hyde’s got looked sharp as razors.”
Zhang looked frustrated. “He would have had to get past the guardian magic. But paranormal claws could have done this, yes.”
Mrs. Wang and Ling were heading to the door. Mrs. Wang said something in Chinese to Zhang as she passed, and he nodded. “They’re going to check on everyone upstairs,” he translated for Jade and Rory, as his mother and Ling disappeared out the door. “Hyde murdered two men in cold blood this morning. If he’s lurking anywhere nearby...”
“...everyone could be in danger.” Jade lifted her hand, and an empty box about the size and shape of a pencil case floated out. “This box was originally sealed shut as well. They cut the amulet out of it. So whoever took it, they don’t have your mother’s powers of incorporeality.”
Zhang leaned against the wall. “They left everything else alone. They were looking for the amulet.”
Jade sat on the floor, crossing her trouser-covered legs. “If this was Hyde and Shelley, they now have two relics.”
“It’s not gonna do them any good,” Rory said. “Relics are bound to a paranormal until death.” He blew out a breath. “It’s why I can’t just give the ring to Pavel even though he needs it more.”
“They’ve still got the pomander, and I’m sure that’s unbound...” Zhang pointed out.
“I never even heard of a pomander before that fella said it,” Rory admitted.
“Because you actually bathe,” said Jade. “You don’t need a ball of musk to mask your smell.”
Rory wrinkled his nose. His gaze went past Jade to the items on the table again.
“That ring isn’t coming out of that sphere unless you’re incorporeal or you’ve got something that will let you slice through brass,” Zhang said dryly. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
Rory eyed the sphere for another moment. He was pretty sure the tingling in his finger wasn’t his imagination. “Yeah,” he said, with feeling. “It’s definitely for the best.”
Jade traced a finger along the spine of a book on the lowest shelf. “Rory said the pomander relic tasted wrong. That it left scorch marks where it rested.” She looked up. “What did that mean to you, Jianwei?”
Zhang looked uncomfortable. “Violation magic.”
Rory shivered, not really knowing why. “What’s that mean?”
“Most magic is neutral enough,” said Zhang. “You can’t see a person’s past with psychometry, for example, and you can’t violate an antique. To hurt someone with your magic, you’d have to decide to cause harm. But violation magic is a trespass against another person, no matter how pure the intentions of the user.”
Rory sat in one of the cushioned chairs along the wall, green velvet with gold trim. “What kinda magic are we talking?”
“There’s a few things,” said Zhang. “Magic that violates privacy, like telepathy or dream-reading. Magic that violates control—not telekinesis, control of things, but mind control, control of a person. Magic that violates the body’s agency, like blood magic.”
“Blood magic?” Rory glanced at Jade, hoping she’d tell him this was a bad joke, but she was staring into space with a troubled look. “And you think that’s why it tasted wrong and scorched the air? Because this pomander’s, what? Full of violation magic?”
“Not just full of it,” Jade said softly. “Strengthening it. Feeding it on its own magic until, like the ring, it takes whatever the original magic was and turns it into the equivalent of a tempest.”
Rory sat back in the chair, wide-eyed. Violation magic. Magic that could act on someone whether they wanted it or not. His stomach suddenly lurched. “Is my link with Arthur violation magic?”
Jade and Zhang glanced at each other, their silence lasting a moment too long.
“Aw geez, it is.” Rory buried his face in his hands as he remembered his last visit here, when he’d asked if Pavel could make a link like his. “That’s why Pavel might not want to make a link with someone else even if he could.”
“Rory, no,” Jade said, just as Zhang said, “It’s not the same.”
“How’s it not the same?” Rory demanded, not looking up. “I made the link without Ace’s permission. It violates his aura—”
“He says he invited it in,” Jade said firmly. “Do you really believe that your magic would stay in Ace’s aura if it wasn’t welcome? If it was hurting him?”
“It hurt him this morning,” Rory whispered.
“Yo
u don’t know that,” Zhang said. “It could have been the pomander’s magic traveling through the link, not the link itself.” His face was set in lines of frustration as he took a seat at the table, reaching for the biggest book. “Did you see anything else in that vision that could help us? Any other magic that could be the reason I can’t find the other paranormals?”
Rory pursed his lips. “Miss Shelley was wearing a necklace. It wasn’t anything special, but you couldn’t help but notice it. That Barnes fella pointed at it, said it must have been powerful if Shelley was wearing it. He called it the lodestone.”
Jade and Zhang looked at each other.
“Oh geez,” said Rory. “Don’t tell me Ace kept something else from me.”
“Just that Edgar Barnes was Luther Mansfield’s lawyer, and we recovered all of Mansfield’s supernatural items save for one: an item from a safe-deposit box.”
“A lodestone?” Rory didn’t have to guess, it was obvious from their faces. “So, what, this lodestone lets them disappear?”
“Maybe.” Jade sounded doubtful. “But you saw them at the library, and then at Grand Central. Was Shelley wearing the lodestone then too?”
Rory thought back to his scrying and nodded.
“So if they could use the lodestone to hide, then why not hide the entire time?”
“It sounded like someone else showed up at the information booth,” said Rory. “Right before they disappeared. But who’s got a power to hide people from time or the astral plane?”
Zhang sat up straighter. “Maybe it’s not from time. Maybe it’s from magic.”
Rory furrowed his brow. “What d’you mean?”
“You see history, but you need magic to do it,” said Zhang. “I can see the city from the astral plane, but that also needs magic.”
“Ellis can turn invisible, but paranormals can still see him,” Rory said slowly. “You’re talking about the opposite, someone that can be seen with eyes but not our magic?”
Jade opened her mouth, then closed it.
“What is it?” Zhang asked.
“I’m not sure I remember it well,” Jade began, “but Gwen mentioned something once, after she was free of Baron Zeppler. No, not something—someone. It was ages ago, but—she mentioned someone to Arthur. Someone she described as a maelstrom, whose magic confused even Gwen’s magic.”
“What do you mean, confused her magic?” said Rory. “Like that potion Pavel made, the one Ellis threw on you and Zhang at Coney Island that made your magic disappear?”
“Not quite. That’s an unpleasant but less dangerous power.” Jade gestured at a large cabinet with no doors. “You remember the painting in Luther Mansfield’s library, the one guarding the safe that trapped you in its whirling dancers? It’s possible for magic to be not suppressed, but confounded or mislead.”
“It’s a type of guardian magic,” said Zhang. “Like our tapestry on the door.” He frowned. “But I’ve never heard of that power in an actual paranormal. I’ve only heard of paranormals who can create magic traps, like the painting.”
Jade bit her lip. “It was something Gwen mentioned to Arthur. He might remember more.”
Zhang sighed. “I don’t suppose you could pump enough magic in Ace that he could see me on the plane?”
Rory touched his heart, where his link to Arthur still felt fainter than usual, and remembered the flutter of Arthur’s pulse when he wouldn’t wake. Guardian magic was one type of magic, but violation magic was another. Arthur said he’d invited Rory’s magic in, but had he ever really had a choice?
“I don’t think I should put more magic in Arthur even if I could,” he said uncertainly. “So you gotta call him like the rest of us.”
* * *
Gallingly, it had in fact taken Arthur more than an hour to clean up to the wedding standards for a senator-hopeful’s brother. By the time he’d showered, dressed, and stopped by the barber for a shave and trim, he was running irritatingly late. He drove himself to Fifth Avenue and 33rd and had his car valeted.
The Waldorf-Astoria’s Gentlemen’s Café had been reserved for the men’s morning meal, an ornate space with detailed carvings in the columns and ceiling, dark paneling and murals on the walls, and staghorn chandeliers. The numerous small tables had been set, a fire was flickering in the giant fireplace, and the entire room smelled strongly of smoke and men’s cologne. Arthur stood for a moment in the doorway, letting the rumble of voices wash over him as he scanned the crowd of men in suits and hats as bespoke as his own, but Wesley was nowhere to be seen.
John was at his side almost as soon as he walked in. “Where have you been?” he hissed, yanking Arthur over to the wall. “The police were here.”
Arthur hid his wince and feigned ignorance. “The police?”
“There’s been a double murder. As if Luther Mansfield getting his throat slit in his own home wasn’t enough. Now his lawyer was found dead, and that’s half of Fifth Avenue without their legal counsel. They won’t release the cause of death yet, not even to the aldermen.”
Probably because they didn’t know how to explain the cause. Arthur cleared his throat. “And the other victim?”
“A staff member of the lord you’re escorting, part of the English party. A detective took Lord Fine aside and they haven’t returned.”
A horrible thought occurred to Arthur. “They’re not actually considering him for the murders—”
“Lord Fine refused to give his whereabouts last night,” John said testily. “But I hardly think the police are going to charge a titled Englishman unless he actually signed the murders with his name, and perhaps not even then.” He rubbed his face. “Christ, what a disaster. The governor has put a half-day hold on all departing ships as they search for the murderer.”
Arthur’s panic eased a touch. If no ships were departing New York City, that at least gave them a little more time to look for the relic. “I’m going to find Lord Fine.” He touched his brother on the shoulder. “John, I know you’ve been working closely on Coney Island with Miss Shelley—”
“Who? Oh, right, right, the girl you met in my office.” John snorted. “There’s an unreliable twit for you. She stood us up yesterday. Demanded another meeting then didn’t bother to attend.”
Arthur let out a tiny breath. “Best to avoid her kind.”
“Quite right. If she and her ladies are so concerned with the restoration, they can damn well show up for their meetings.” John hesitated. In a near-whisper, he added, “I didn’t have the dream last night.”
Coincidence, that John was spared his nightmare plague the night Shelley and Hyde were busy with a relic theft and a murder spree? Arthur very much doubted it. “You just needed to get it off your chest. Clear the mind.”
John looked interested. “Is that how you chase away your war dreams?”
Arthur’s war dreams had turned out to be more terrifying than he’d even realized, and his nightmare could, in fact, still be walking the streets of New York mere hours after he’d murdered Wesley’s valet.
“Sometimes,” Arthur said, forcing a smile for John. “I should find Lord Fine.”
* * *
At the end of the hall was a small smoking room, and as Arthur walked in, his gaze was drawn to the glass doors on the far side, leading to a small terrace decorated with potted greenery. The February day was bitterly cold and the terrace was nearly empty, save for the tall, broad-shouldered body leaning against the carved stone rail. Beyond the balcony’s edge, the sound of cars on Fifth Avenue drifted up. In one of Wesley’s hands on the rail, the end of a cigarette glowed red against the gray day.
When Arthur quietly opened the door, Wesley glanced over his shoulder. They’d both chosen morning suits of pinstriped dark gray, paired with light blue ties and fedoras. They were practically twins, although Wesley’s gray-blue eyes were shot through with red, from shock or a night
of drinking, Arthur wasn’t sure.
Wesley turned back to the view, taking a drag from the drugstore cigarette as Arthur came forward to join him against the rail. Arthur had always had a weakness for this side of Wesley, the man who could have bought the finest cigar for sale in the Waldorf’s lobby, but in private still chose the cheap cigarettes he’d smoked with the enlisted in the army.
“I thought you were planning to break the habit.”
“The detective gave me his pack.” Wesley exhaled smoke, filling the air with the acrid, stale smell of low-grade tobacco. “We don’t have this brand in London. It’s positively vile. I’m having a case shipped home.”
Arthur smiled faintly, but it faded almost instantly. “I’m sorry about Chester.”
Wesley shrugged. “Me too. He was a decent valet; it will be a terrible nuisance to replace him.”
“The man is dead, Wes,” Arthur said, although based on Rory’s vision, Chester was far from an innocent bystander in the paranormal realm.
“And it was bloody inconsiderate of him to get offed in America. At a library, for crying out loud.”
Arthur stood next to him at the balcony, watching the thick traffic below on Fifth Avenue, the fumes mixing with Wesley’s cigarette. “Do you know why he was there?” he said carefully, feeling like a complete cad to be feeling Wesley out to see how much he knew.
But Wesley just snorted. “No idea. Probably went looking for more liquor.”
“What, the Magnolia wasn’t enough?”
“It certainly wasn’t for you. You left without even bothering to let me know.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware I owed you an accounting of my movements.”
“Apparently nobody does, and then people end up mauled outside libraries.”
So that’s how the police were interpreting Chester’s murder. “Did the detective give you any trouble?”
“Well, I’m not a tiger, so no.” He glanced at Arthur. “I didn’t mention the speakeasy. They think an animal escaped from a zoo. Frightful way to go.”