It settled into place like a familiar shirt, like it was shaped to fit Rory now. He got to his feet, hoping his face didn’t look as nervous as he felt.
“You must practice, Rory. This is our best place.” Sasha waved around them. “There are no homes or people on this beach, and no ferries or ships to be seen right now. The wind is gentle today, dancing on the waves. Create a partner for it.”
Rory chewed his lip some more. “Every time I’ve brought the wind, it’s wrecked something,” he said, as Pavel came up behind him. “I’ve never actually tried to call it on purpose.”
“And that is why this time will be different,” said Pavel, his voice quiet and gravelly and his accent thicker than his sister’s.
“What if I make another tidal wave?”
Sasha held up the vial in her hand. “Then we use one of Pavel’s old potions and hope it cancels some of the magic. Or I pick you two up and run,” she added dryly.
Rory snorted. But Sasha was right, there was no one else around, no houses nearby, no people. They’d all taken their first day off work in years to come as early as they could, because Rory had to master this, and that meant practice.
He still took off his cap, just in case, the nice one Arthur’d bought him back in February that Rory was never, ever gonna lose. He tucked his hat under his arm, took a breath, and let the magic in, light as he could, like he was reaching back into the past barely a minute.Like skipping a rock, he told himself.Just a breeze skimming the water’s surface.
He felt a breeze rush past his cheek. Then, out in the waves, there was a small splash.
His eyes widened behind his glasses. “It worked? It actually—no it didn’t!”
The three of them hit the beach just as a second, much more powerful gust of wind whistled over their heads. Rory’s eyes watered as he squinted at the water, just as the wind dove into the waves beyond the rocks, revealing the rocky bottom like he’d blown into a glass of milk with a straw.
Rory registered the black specks in the air just in time to cover his head as a flurry of fish hit the shore around them, smacking his head and neck, cold and slimy.
He wiped himself off, cursing. He looked from the creatures flopping on the rocks next to him to Sasha, who had trash in her hair, to Pavel, who had mud on his face, and cringed.
“Oops.”
Chapter Two
It was late afternoon when Rory got back to Hell’s Kitchen, the ring in its box in his pocket where it was going to stay, because he was hopeless and no one needed him to meet Baron Zeppler as the Useless King of the Uncontrolled Wind. The one small mercy: when he’d thought about Arthur, the ring had come right off for him.
He opened the antiques shop’s front door. “I’m back, Mrs. B,” he called over the jangling bell.
Mrs. Brodigan was alone in the shop, standing behind the cash register counter, the kettle on the hot plate and two mugs already out. “Hello, dear.” She smiled, genuine but with something uncertain around the edge. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Her voice was warm as ever, but there was a note in it that made Rory’s shoulders tense. “What’s going on?”
She had tea out with the mugs, the good tea, the expensive one from Ireland that her fella Mr. McIntyre brought her. “I was hoping to talk to you.”
His heart began to pound. “Is someone making trouble?” Could be all sorts of trouble—unhappy customer, unhappy paranormal, unhappy police who’d finally discovered there was no Rory Brodigan, just a Theodore Giovacchini who’d run away from the Hyde Gardens Asylum four years back.
But she shook her head. “It’s not trouble,” she promised, as she poured hot water over tea bags. “Not like that.”
She held out a mug and he took it, the hot drink comforting in his usually cold hands. She always used tea to soften hard news, and Rory always fell for it. “Then what?”
She took a breath. “Mr. McIntyre has asked me to marry him.”
Rory’s eyes widened. “But that’s great news,” he said, his heart brightening for her.
She smiled, more genuinely. “It is,” she said. “I want to say yes.”
“You haven’t said yes yet? Come on, why not? He’s crazy about you, and you adore him—”
“Because I also want to close the shop.”
Rory’s world screeched to a halt.
She half smiled, half winced, and set her mug down. “I’ve run this place since I came to America, dear,” she said gently. “And I’m ready for a new adventure.”
