Arthur’s heart plummeted. “I picked up the habit.”
“The hell you did.” Ellis turned back to the mobster cleaning out Arthur’s jacket. “Give it to me.”
The mobster shrugged and held the silver cigarette case out. Ellis reached for it—then drew his hand away with a hiss, exactly as Rory had an hour earlier.
“Lead.” His eyes narrowed. “Why does the ex-quarterback who hasn’t smoked a day in his life have a cigarette case made with lead?”
Arthur winced. “I don’t want magic in my smokes?”
Ellis rolled his eyes. “Open it,” he told the mobster, who did.
“Oh!” That was Gwen, her eyes lighting like Christmas. She scrambled forward toward Pavel’s three potions, glowing bright blue, orange, and purple. “What wonders are these?”
Arthur stared up at the ceiling in despair. “I don’t suppose you’ll use your witch-sight to tell me what those potions do?”
Gwen picked up the blue one and smiled.
Oh no.
“Why don’t I show you?” She stepped in front of him and held the vial under his nose, then uncorked it with a pop. “Good night, Ace.”
Rorywas Arthur’s last thought, and then the world was dark.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Rory—”
Jade’s voice was distant over the pounding in Rory’s head, his skull about to split.
“Please, Rory, open your eyes—”
He wanted to, but his eyelids weighed a thousand pounds each. He was just going to lie here forever, maybe go back to sleep.
“Rory, please—they took Arthur—”
His eyes popped open.
“Oh, thank goodness.” Jade was leaning over him, face lined with worry. Beyond her, he could just make out bushes and the line of Mansfield’s mansion stretching up toward the stars and the brilliant full moon. “Can you speak?”
He licked his dry lips. “Arthur—who—”
“Gwen.” Jade’s face hardened. “And Ellis.”
“Ellis? Your invisible pal? You two said he was dead—” A pulse of pain jabbed his brain. He cursed and reached for the aching back of his head.
“Can you sit up?” she asked gently.
He nodded, wincing as she helped him into a sitting position. He put his back to the wall of Mansfield’s mansion and leaned heavily against the stone. Through the bushes, cars were driving up and down Fifth Avenue. “Ace threw me out awindow.”
“We had a Plan B.” Jade’s mouth was set in a grim line. “I broke your fall with his jacket.”
Rory’s eyes widened. Arthur’s tuxedo jacket was still under him on the muddy snow.
“We didn’t tell you because you would never have agreed,” she said, as he pulled the jacket out from under himself. “But getting you to safety was our highest priority. We couldn’t let Gwen see your magic. If she told Mansfield you’re psychometric, he would have chained you up to scry relics until he’d wrung every last drop of your sanity—assuming he didn’t sell you to the Germans as a package with the amulet.”
The fine fabric of the tux was soft against Rory’s fingers, and despite the snow and mud it still smelled of Arthur’s cologne, still put goose bumps on Rory’s skin from the memories of Arthur’s touch. “ButArthur—”
“He’s too big. You’re three stone lighter, and I could only slow you, not catch you. You still hit the ground hard enough to knock yourself out.” Jade’s expression wrenched at his heart, and he knew she’d relive the moment in nightmares for months to come. “I would have killed Ace if we’d tried. I was going to send the rope up and go after him, but he locked the window so I couldn’t—”
