He looked away. “I shouldn’t have called you—”
“You shouldn’t havehung upon me—”
“—and I shouldn’t have bothered you for a stupid dream—”
“I gave you my number and explicitly wrote on itcall anytime,” said Arthur. “Why would I be cross because you did just that?”
“But it was stupid,” Rory said heatedly. “I’m a grown man, I don’t need a hand to hold.”
“Of course not,” Arthur said, with heavy sarcasm. “It’s only amurder, a real man would just brush off seeing that—”
“It’s not like it’s my first time,” Rory snapped, then flinched. He hadn’t meant to admit that.
Arthur’s anger seemed to leave him in a rush. The hands on Rory’s shoulders squeezed. “Why do you have a first-aid kit out?”
Rory bit his lip, but it wasn’t like he could hide his hands forever. Wincing, feeling as stupid as Arthur must have thought he was, he lifted his hands so Arthur could see the broken nails.
Arthur’s eyes went soft and troubled. “Of course.” He took Rory’s hands in his own and Rory caught his breath. Arthur’s big hands were warm against frozen skin and achingly gentle as he examined the injury. “This is why you put more locks on your door.”
It wasn’t a question. Secret already out, Rory nodded. “I, uh—I wander sometimes, when I lose control of my scrying. Like a sleepwalker. But I wasn’t scrying tonight, I don’t know what’s wrong with me—”
“You pick up magical auras and your mind wants to take your body to the magic’s source.” Arthur glanced up. “It’s an extraordinary ability that you can better learn to control. There is nothingwrongwith you.”
Rory’s throat was suddenly tight. He stared at his bloody fingers so he wouldn’t have to look Arthur in the face.
“Come on,” Arthur said. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”
In the bathroom in the building’s lobby, Arthur cleansed the wounds much more thoroughly than Rory had. “This won’t be pleasant.”
“Ouch!” Rory tried to jerk away, but Arthur seemed to have expected it and held him firmly at the sink. “You dick, that fuckinghurts.”
“It’s iodine, of course it hurts.”
“Do you even know what the hell you’re doing—” Rory abruptly cut it off. “You were a solider.”
“For a time.” Arthur was moving quickly; at least he wasn’t prolonging the torture. “I was in college when America entered the war. The Versailles treaty was signed barely two years after I enlisted.”
Rory did some quick math because something wasn’t adding up. “Hold on,” he said suspiciously. “You patronize me like you’re about a hundred years old, but if you were in college when we went to war, then you can’t be that much older than me.”
“I am so much older than you. I’m ancient.”
“Tell it to Sweeney,” said Rory, “because I won’t believe you’re a day past thirty.”
Arthur huffed. “Fine. Twenty-eight. So still old enough, wise enough, and a solider long enough to learn what to do with cuts and broken nails.” There was a quick movement, and another sharp sting that made Rory hiss. “There. The worst is over now.”
Back in the shop’s office, Arthur had Rory sit in the armchair while he took the ottoman. He set the first-aid kit on the ottoman too and corralled Rory between his knees as he took Rory’s hands in his own again. Rory tried very hard not to squirm at their closeness as Arthur worked to spread salve and bandage fingers.
“So you came straight from bed,” he said peevishly, because if he didn’t keep his distance he was going to throw himself at Arthur and sob his thanks all over him. “Didn’t even bother brushing your hair.”
“Do you ever?”
Jerk. The most annoying part was how well the straight-out-of-bed look suited Arthur. What a sight he had to be in an actual bed, black stubble on his jaw and muscles for days. “I could have handled myself.”
“Forgive me for needing to see with my own eyes that you were in the right year.” Arthur didn’t sound sorry in the least. “Although…” His gaze darted up to Rory’s eyes, then back to their hands. “I doubt you went into the past tonight. From what I know of psychometry—which, granted, could fill a thimble with space to spare—you need to touch an object to see its history. It’s more likely you were seeing the present because someone had a relic close enough for you to sense.”
Like how that Pavel fella had seen Rory opening the ring box. He swallowed hard. “I saw a sailor get stabbed,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. He didn’t want to go to the cops. He had a fake name, a fake aunt, a fake shop—he didn’t need to be drawing attention, but what choice did he have? “They kicked his body into the water. We got to tell someone—”
“It won’t help.” Arthur squeezed his hands, cutting through Rory’s rising panic. “The body will be at the bottom of the harbor by now and the perpetrators long gone. And frankly, I don’t want to send unprepared law enforcement after magic criminals. We’ll investigate ourselves.”
