“No,” said Zhang. “That’s your subordinate magic. And why it’s your blood.”
Sasha moved close to her brother. “It’s ready.”
Rory stepped back, shaking out his hand. To his surprise, Arthur suddenly caught it, and held up gauze. “Jade came prepared,” he said in a whisper. “Are you all right?”
Rory nodded, letting Arthur wrap and tie the gauze. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Jade pulled the pomander’s box out of a bag, her face set against the sting of the lead.
She set the box on the ground next to the potion’s bowl and with obvious reluctance, opened it.
The overpowering stench of rotting flowers swept over them. “Ugh, it’s like the world’s largest, most terrible tea ball,” Jade ground out, as next to Rory, Arthur gagged, bending forward at the waist and turning away.
Rory could’ve sworn more of his magic bolted down the link. “Ace, you okay?” he asked worriedly, putting a hand on Arthur’s back.
It took Arthur a few moments, but finally he waved a hand weakly. “Copacetic, as you say.” He straightened, still looking unsettlingly pale as Pavel picked the pomander up, out of its box, and dropped it in.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the potion suddenly roiled, leaping to the edges of the bowl. Rory sucked in a breath and watched as it got higher, and higher—and then suddenly, a crack split the air. An enormous puff of smoke burst forth from the bowl like a dragon’s belch, far more than the bowl should have been able to hold, enough to flood the clearing and make Rory cough.
As the purple smoke began to disappear up into the sky, Rory hurried to the bowl.
His heart dropped.
The pomander was sitting in the middle of the now-empty bowl, not a scratch to be seen, and the smell was as choking as ever.
“It did not work,” Sasha said quietly.
Chapter Nine
On Thursday, back in Manhattan, Arthur met Jade and Zhang for lunch at the Dragon House. There were egg rolls and chicken with soft noodles waiting as they sat at the circular table in the private room.
He eyed his chopsticks as he picked up a fork. One of these days, he was going to learn, but it was difficult to find the patience to practice when the food looked this good. “How is Pavel doing? No relapse since he put the lodestone back on?”
“I spoke to him this morning and I’m very happy to say he’s doing wonderfully.” Jade deftly wielded her own chopsticks as the teapot floated into the air and refilled her cup. “Where’s Rory?”
“Two blocks over, getting a suit,” said Arthur. “We’re leaving for Boston tomorrow so he can go to Mrs. Brodigan’s wedding.”
Jade raised an eyebrow. “You’re not attending?”
“There didn’t seem to be a way to explain why she’d invite a customer,” Arthur reluctantly admitted. “I had thought perhaps I could sneak in when she was going to get married at City Hall, but we got a telegram yesterday that she’s having it in a Back Bay church.”
Jade tilted her head. “Why are you frowning about that?”
Arthur made a face. “I suppose because I’m being ridiculous. I never thought she’d be the type to have an expensive second wedding, but she’s a devout Catholic, so perhaps I should have. I just didn’t expect it, that’s all, and these days I don’t much care for anything I don’t expect.”
He picked up a pork bun from the steamer basket. “Rory did agree to bring the Tempest Ring and use it if there’s any danger. And I’m going to Boston with him, if not the wedding itself.”
Jade put her hand on her chin. “You, in Boston?”
“It’s been known to happen,” Arthur said.
“I thought you despised Boston because of baseball,” she said. “In fact, I seem to recall you once said you wouldn’t be caught dead within fifty miles of Fenway Park.”
Hehadsaid that. “Was that me?” he said innocently. “Surely that doesn’t sound like me.”
She grinned. “Boston’s not where we’re worried about danger, at any rate. It’s Philly.”
“Rory said that before Hyde killed her, the dream reader paranormal, Miss Shelley, sent a telegram to Baron Zeppler,” Zhang said. “We don’t know what was in the telegram, but we should probably assume Shelley told Zeppler everything they had discovered about Rory—his psychometry, his address, his association with the three of us.”
