Rory dropped down to sit on the edge of his bed. He grabbed for the box, opening it up and staring inside. The Italian compass was nestled inside, shining brass, a trip to Italy any time he wanted to make it.
But gratitude warred with guilt when his gaze caught the edge of his messenger bag where it was peeking out from its spot tucked under his bed.
Bringing the ring had been a stupid idea. A last-second-thing grab from Arthur’s pad. But Rory hadn’t been able to leave it behind, because if he hadn’t had the ring at Coney Island, that tidal wave would’ve hit Brooklyn. What if they’d needed it again?
He should’ve told Arthur, but he hadn’t known how to start.Hey, I’m dreaming of storms and oceans and my skin got itchy thinking about leaving the ring behind.Yeah, that was a conversation Rory wasn’t keen on having. With any luck, they’d go back to Manhattan tomorrow without the box ever being opened. And then he’d tell Arthur. If he didn’t chicken out.
Footsteps echoed on the wood as Sasha’s soft Russian came from down the hall. Rory hurriedly kicked his bag completely under his bed, then set the compass carefully on the mattress and stood up. “You two coming back with us tomorrow?” he called, crossing the hall to stand in the doorway of Pavel’s room.
There were a couple of other seasonal workers in the basement, all of them men. Sasha was the only woman working as temporary staff. She was supposed to be staying in the guesthouse like Mrs. Brodigan, but snuck into Pavel’s room every night, and now she was perched on the bed she used. She shook her head. “We will stay a couple days more. We are still fortifying the garden walls before spring.” At Rory’s look, she smiled. “They think Pavel does the lifting while I supervise.”
Rory snorted. No one looking at Sasha ever assumed she was hiding twice the strength of a circus strongman. He watched from the doorway as Pavel opened the dresser’s top drawer and set his orange peels inside. “I’ve gotten stuck in my magic,” Rory admitted quietly. “First time my magic kicked in, I got stuck in a vision of the past for three weeks.” He reached reflexively for the link between his magic and Arthur’s aura, finding Arthur down the road. “It’s like a radio, right? Magic comes in too strong, can’t turn it off? Can’t find your way out?”
Pavel glanced over his shoulder at Rory, eyes haunted.
“Yeah.” Rory swallowed. “Yeah, I know what that’s like all right.”
Sasha stood up. “Could we talk for a moment?”
Rory followed her out of the room. She paused in the hall, glancing around before whispering, “If you are a subordinate too, have you had any luck taming your magic?”
“Kinda.” How was he even supposed to start explaining what he had with Arthur? Rory hesitated, then said, “What happened to Pav? I know it’s none of my business, but—did he touch something magic?”
Sasha’s expression turned sad, deep lines at her eyes that shouldn’t have been there yet. “No,” she said. “He did it to himself.”
Rory stilled.
She leaned against the white wall between the dark, varnished wood doors. Her voice was very quiet when she spoke. “When war broke out in Russia, Pavel and I were found by a rogue group led by a paranormal.”
Rory’s eyes widened.
“Pavel was making potions, protecting who he could. Word must have gotten out and raised the other paranormal’s suspicions. I went out to build shelters one day and came home to find Pavel gone.”
“Aw, Sasha.” Rory’s voice cracked.
“I went after them, but he’d been taken to Moscow, to be convinced to work for the other paranormal. When Pavel refused, they decided to kill him.” She leaned her head back. “His torturers gave him a last meal. Bread. A cigarette. And shot of vodka.”
Rory’s eyes widened. “Alchemy?”
“You must understand that Pavel is a gentle soul. He had only ever used his alchemy for small, beautiful magic, until they forced his hand.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I arrived in Moscow to find the prison a smoking crater with Pavel in the center, gone so deep into his magic he did not see me. And whatever magic he found within himself that day has never let him go.”
Rory’s heart twisted painfully. “If there’s something I can do—Sasha—”
There was a soft toppling noise from the Pavel’s room.
Sasha pushed off the wall. “Excuse me.” A moment later, her amused Russian was coming from the other room.
Rory stood uncertainly in the hall. However bad he’d had it since he got his magic, Pavel had had it worse. Gwen had too; she’d seen nothing but auras for two years.
But unlocking that relic amulet had gotten her magic under control, let her see Ellis’s face again, not his magic.
Now Rory had the Tempest Ring. Could it hold the secret to helping Pavel like another relic had helped Gwen?
Could the answer to that question lie buried in the ring’s past?
Rory’s heart began to pound. He ducked into his room, shutting the door. He bent to grab his bag, pulling it out from under the bed, and dug through it, pushing clothes aside until he uncovered the small, too-heavy box just big enough for a ring.
He stared at it, not touching the lead.
