Arthur let it go, but then, Rory now knew just how awful the memories were in Arthur’s mental vault, and those weren’t other people’s history, that was his own. “How did you get away from the ship?”
Rory touched his throat. The lodestone had survived the fall. He could feel its magic tugging at his own, pulling like a magnet. “One of Gwen and Ellis’s lackeys was holding me down. I sent his mind to the past.”
Arthur’s eyes widened. “You—”
“Not like with Hyde,” Rory said quickly. “To break free of the pomander, remake the link—that took a huge burst of magic, enough it sent a paranormal mind to the fifteenth century. The mobster was different; I sent him maybe an hour back in time and it’s probably already worn off.”
Arthur’s gaze went to the lodestone. “Weaponized psychometry,” he said, too lightly. “Quite a powerful ability.”
“Yeah.” Rory reached behind his neck, fingers finding the clasp. “And I don’t want it.”
He pulled the choker off and the pull on his blood disappeared. He coiled it in his palm, gazing at the stone for a moment. “I don’t want it and I don’t need it, not when I got a relic already and not when I gotyou.” He curled his fist around the choker. “I’m giving it to Pavel.”
Arthur broke into a smile with relief around the edges. “That’s noble of you.”
“This was helping Shelley. Maybe it’ll help Pav too.” Rory gave Arthur a dry look. “And alchemy turned outward isn’t gonna hurt anyone like my magic does. So you can relax, soldier.”
“What? No,” Arthur protested, too hard. “No, I trust you—”
“You’re a little nervous at the thought of a fella running around King of the Past.” Arthur started stuttering over another denial, but Rory just shrugged. “S’all right. I’d be nervous too. I’m already King of the Wind and how’s that worked out so far?”
Arthur’s lips twitched. “You just need more practice.”
“But no one oughta practice with magic that affects someone else’s mind.” Rory passed the lodestone to Arthur. “I would know.”
“I suppose you would.” Arthur slipped the lodestone into his pocket. “The Zhangs will likely be willing to take the pomander until a way to destroy it is found. I assume their new security will be the stuff of legends.” He tapped the roof of the car. “Go on, get in. You look dead on your feet. Let’s find a hotel.”
Ten minutes later, they passed Philly’s city hall and the giant train station, then parked across the street from a four-story redbrick building with a subway entrance in front and a bright electric sign jutting out sideways that readHOTEL.
Arthur put the car in park but then hesitated. “Is this all right?” When Rory side-eyed him, he added, “I’ll take you to the Ritz or the Bellevue, if that’s what you would prefer. They might ask questions, but their rooms have private bathrooms.”
“You’re the one with standards,” said Rory. “What do you want?”
“I’ll go where you like,” Arthur said quietly. “I don’t care about luxuries. I just want to be with you.”
Rory glanced back out the window. “I’d rather have no questions,” he admitted.
“Done.” Arthur got out of the car. “Be right back.”
Rory got out a lot more slowly, aching down to his bones. There were other signs at the street level, a hat shop and a pharmacy with its light still on promisingSODA-CANDY-DRUGS. His stomach rumbled, and he carefully shut the door of the smashed Cadillac, wishing he had a nickel in his pocket.
Then Arthur was suddenly back, bending so his mouth was close to Rory’s ear. “Room 212,” he murmured, discreetly pressing a key into Rory’s hand. “I’ll be up a few minutes after you.”
Rory curled his fingers around the key. “I’ll leave it unlocked.”
Their hotel room on the second floor was a little bigger than Rory’s boardinghouse room, much cleaner and with nicer furniture. The bed was narrow but he was planning to sleep on top of Arthur, so that was gonna work out fine.
The floor was all men, with a shared bathroom at the end of the hall that held stacks of white towels, a white claw-foot tub, and even a brass needle shower with an adjustable temperature. The hotel was quiet, the night gone enough that Rory was alone in the bathroom. He lingered under the spray longer than he’d planned, until the pins and needles in his frozen toes eased into warmth. It’d be too easy to get addicted to the luxury of hot water on his skin.
His clothes were already soaked, and dirty from the port waters. He rinsed them best he could and took them back to the room to spread on the radiator. Hopefully they’d be dry in the morning.
He’d just finished arranging his clothes on half the radiator when the door cracked open, and Arthur came in with his arms full. “Do you like ham?” he asked, shutting the door with his foot before setting his pile on the bed. “And chocolate? And I wasn’t sure your size. Oh, and Jade left a message with my concierge. She and Zhang made a full recovery.”
“Oh good.” Rory blinked. “Did you say you found clothes? Andfood—” He was heading for the pile when Arthur suddenly bent and kissed him.
“You wear a towel distractingly well,” he murmured. “Be back before you can blink.” And he disappeared back out the door, leaving Rory leaning after him.
The pile of food turned out to be Peanut Chews and chocolate creams, soft pretzels, and sandwiches with ham, salami, and cheese on fluffy submarine-shaped rolls. Rory ate an entire sandwich in a minute flat as he examined the clothes. Hotel uniforms: white shirts, plain ties, black vests, and pants. Nicer than anything he owned but not anything Arthur’d normally wear.
