Rory forced his eyes front. “Who?” he said, in a whisper that would be lost to the waves and wind.
“White man, maybe early forties. Tall and thin. He doesn’t match your description of the firestarter, Mr. Mercier.”
“Oh, I’m being followed by some other random fella now?”
“I don’t know if he’s following you,” said Zhang. “But he’s watching.”
“Rory, there you are.” Jade’s voice broke through the crowd, bright and cheerful. “It’s a beautiful day, walk with me.”
With gratitude, Rory turned to her. He offered his arm like Arthur always did for dolls, and she took it. They walked about halfway down the ship, then stopped at a different part of the railing, leaning casually against it.
Zhang flickered back into view in the air in front of them. “He didn’t follow.” He frowned. “Either he’s not a paranormal or his acting belongs on a stage, because he doesn’t seem to see me at all.”
Rory blew out a breath. “What’s he want?”
Zhang shrugged helplessly. “It might not even be you, exactly. Arthur’s been in the papers a few times and his family is well known; it’s possible he’s watching you because he recognized Arthur and he’s looking for your connection.”
Rory groaned. “That might be worse.”
“Orneitheris good,” said Jade pointedly.
“Or maybe he was just watching because we’re all on a boat and he has nothing better to do,” said Zhang. “Maybe we’re jumpy.” He didn’t sound convinced, though.
“I’d rather be safe than sorry, especially if it could be about Ace.” Rory held his cap more tightly against his head as the wind blew. “Did you see where he came from? ’Cause I’m gonna go scrying.”
But the promenade was full of people, and so was the library, the galley, and the smoking room. Rory wasn’t exactly subtle when he scried, and there didn’t seem to be anywhere to go without an audience. He’d draw even more attention if he ran his mouth.
Arthur joined them in the bar a little while later, and they filled him in. “Has this fellow turned up again?” he asked quietly, after ordering a whiskey.
Zhang shook his head. “He hasn’t left the promenade.”
Jade pursed her lips. “Suppose Zeppler does know we’re on board. He’s not going to send one man against three paranormals.”
“Three paranormals andme,” Arthur said pointedly.
“I don’t want a telepath near you either,” said Rory.
“Baron Zeppler isn’t getting to you without going through me,” Arthur said stubbornly.
Rory folded his arms. “You’re not the only one who gets to worry,” he said testily. “Especially when you keep ending up handcuffed by paranormals in tuxedos.”
“Excuse you,” said Arthur. “What paranormals in tuxedos?”
“I meant whenyou’rein a tuxedo—like at the Wonder Wheel. Or on that ship in Philly.”
“So it only happened the one time. The two times.” Arthur huffed. “Look, if it happens a third time, then you can say it’s a habit.”
“All I was trying to say,” Jade said patiently, “is even if all of this is nothing but justifiable paranoia, we’re making landfall in London tomorrow. And we need to be careful.”
Chapter Twelve
Land was a welcome sight after a week at sea. Arthur was up before dawn, watching the sun lighten the sky above the coast of England as their ship made its way east through the English Channel. By the time they were turning north, to the bustling Southampton docks, most of the ship’s passengers seemed to be out on the decks, anticipating landfall.
Rory stood by his side, leaning on the rail, occasionally wiping salty ocean spray and misting rain off his glasses. “We made it.”
“Was that ever in doubt?” Arthur said, amused.
“Only every day,” Rory muttered, with feeling. “Ship’s nice enough, but I’m ready to stand on something that’s not moving.”
