Arthur looked up at Sasha in surprise. She had the first light of hope on her face. “The potion should have burned like fire in an open wound,” she said, “unless you have another magic strong enough to protect you.” Her gaze went up to his eyes, lingering for a moment, then back down to the compass. “Now we hope you can find him like he finds you.”
Arthur wrapped his fingers tightly around the edges of the compass and watched the needle spin and spin, becoming erratic but not stopping.
Come on, Arthur willed it.Find Rory.
The compass needle spun like a roulette table—and then abruptly began to slow.
He caught his breath.
The three of them watched as the compass needle slowed and slowed and finally came to a stop, and not on north. “Southwest.” Arthur felt dizzy with relief and lingering fear. “He’s been taken southwest.”
So not east, already on the ocean, en route to Germany. No southeast to the Brooklyn piers, or due west to the piers on the Hudson. But southwest could mean Staten Island or Jersey.
Or farther.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Hyde was watching him.
Rory hunched into the padded seat of the private train compartment, his hands in his lap, wrapped in a scarf so the handcuffs didn’t show to the conductor or anyone else passing by. He supposed he should be grateful his wrists were cuffed in front, not behind him where his shoulders and arms would be numb, but the needlelike sting of the lead in the cuffs was enough to keep his teeth grinding.
The window was on Rory’s left, Shelley on Rory’s right, and Hyde and Sebastian on the seat across. Their compartment had a sliding door that was firmly shut, but every time Rory so much as twitched, Hyde perked up with interest, the light catching his fangs. So Rory didn’t call for help.
Outside the window, the landscape was flat, with bare-branched trees rushing past, shorter than the trees of upstate New York. They’d been riding more than an hour, sometimes passing through cities he didn’t know.
“Theodore Giovacchini.” Hyde tilted his head like a wolf. He took up more than his share of the bench seat with his broad shoulders, crowding Sebastian too close to the edge. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
Rory felt a chill over his spine. “How do you know that?”
“Baron Zeppler keeps an ear out for interesting paranormals.” Shelley was playing with her necklace again, turning the stone in her fingers. She smiled dreamily. “Well, not anear, exactly. A mind, shall we say? A request for a doctor for a boy who thinks he sees the past certainly qualifies. The baron was terribly disappointed when he learned of your suicide four years ago. Canceled all his travel plans.”
Rory felt the hairs on his neck rise. The asylum had sent for a doctor from Europe to handle Rory’s lobotomy. Mrs. Brodigan’s sister, Miss Lorna, had seen a future where that doctor had come for him.
“He’s delighted to hear of your recovery,” Shelley went on.
Hyde looked at her sharply. “You told him?”
“Sent a telegram that same day.” Shelley still had her dreamy smile. “You’ll do great things with Baron Zeppler’s guidance, Mr. Giovacchini, you’ll see.”
Rory’s heart began to pound.
“Wasn’t alerting the baron a bit premature?” said Sebastian. “We’re not actually certain of this boy’s magic.”
“We know his magic is powerful. You saw the locks on his door; I have locks like that myself.” Shelley’s smile grew as she rubbed the stone between her fingers. “Hadlocks.”
Hyde leaned forward, lip curled enough to show his fangs. “Zeppler will never let you keep the lodestone.”
Shelley’s dreamy smile vanished. She clutched at her choker, covering the stone with her fist. “Of course he will.”
“You’re an idiot,” said Hyde. “A fool. Haven’t you figured out yet what the baron’s plans were for us?”
“That we would come to America and bring him back the finest prizes,” Shelley said, although her dreamy voice was too sharp. “A relic and a subordinate paranormal to scry it. Of course he’ll give me the lodestone in return.”
Rory made himself speak. “What’s it do?”
“Shut up,” said Hyde.
But Shelley smiled. “You’ll wish it was yours,” she said, eyes too bright. “My lodestone.”
