Rory hurried down the narrow alley behind the others. “Of course you got a magically hidden escape tunnel for your magically hidden lair,” he murmured.
“Maybe the kid who brought the tail should keep his trap shut,” Ellis snapped.
Rory gritted his teeth but shut up. They slipped into the back door to the pub’s kitchen. The pretty barmaid was washing dishes. “Oy, you all right, Gwen?” she called, as they filed past her in a line. “Where’s Sebastian?”
“Sorry, Moll, but the less you know the better,” Gwen called back, as she pushed open the kitchen door and deftly avoided a very surprised man with pints in both hands.
Outside Liverpool Street station, several black Beardmore taxis were idling at the curb. Zhang was in front, opening the door for Jade and Gwen.
“I’m not taking more than five,” the driver was protesting, gesturing at their group.
“But weareonly five,” said Gwen.
They were obviously six. The driver pinched his face in a frown, but when he looked again, this time his gaze slid right over Ellis without a flicker. “Oh, so you are. Sorry, luv,” he said to Gwen, as they began to cram into the back seat. While climbing in, Arthur accidentally smashed his hand right on Ellis’s face, so Rory was gonna guess Ellis was invisible now.
He turned and looked out the back of the cab as they pulled away from the curb. He thought, for a moment, he might have seen a flash of something—but then it was gone.
About forty-five minutes and a large bill later, they were pulling up to a small marina east of the city. Two large, square buildings sat along the river, closed from the look of things, and three boats were moored along the dock.
The taxi left them on the side of the road and puttered away as they walked down a short, grassy hill to the dock. The closest boat was about the size of a car but open, with three rows of wooden benches and no roof—and no life jackets. Nothing like the sleek and fancy thing Arthur’s brother had once taken him across the Hudson River in.
“Those are very small boats,” Rory said tightly.
“You’re not wrong,” Arthur admitted, also looking at the boats with trepidation. “We’re not actually crossing the English fucking Channel in a bit of glorified driftwood?”
“Hello, yes, this river reaches the ocean and I’m right here with an amulet that controls the tide,” Gwen said impatiently. “I’m basically a sea goddess now and you’re insulting my skiff.”
She strode down the dock without fear, the others right behind her. Rory took one step onto the dock, which shifted under his weight, and froze.
GO, he told himself.You don’t got time to be chicken around water, just GO.
Gwen, Ellis, Zhang and Jade were climbing in the boat. Arthur had walked almost all the way down the ramp, but he paused, looking back at Rory. “Come on,” he said, with urgency. “I’ll help you.”
But as Rory reluctantly stepped forward, magic burst through the air like a clap of thunder he couldn’t hear, and a blond white man appeared to block the dock in front of Rory.
“Evening,” said the blond, who had to be the teleporter, Chance. He raised his hand, and leveled a gun at Rory. “Nice to finally meet you.”
There was a whooshing sound. Chance disappeared in a blink, just as an oar sliced through the space he’d been standing.
Before Rory could move, the magic burst against his skin from behind, and this time the gun was touching his temple. “Don’t try that again.” Chance was right behind Rory. “I use lead bullets. You can’t move the gun, and you don’t want to test your telekinesis against my trigger finger.”
Rory’s gaze darted to the boat. Another oar was floating in midair, and Jade looked as furious as he felt. Arthur had stopped midstep, hand reaching for Rory.
Gwen folded her arms. “You’re bluffing,” she said coldly. “Baron Zeppler won’t let you kill a psychometric. He’d kill you three times over first.”
“Maybe I am bluffing.” Chance dug the gun into Rory’s temple. “Are you willing to bet his life on it?”
“Gwen,” Arthur said hoarsely.
Gwen’s expression turned completely unreadable at that. But she didn’t make a move.
“Back up,” Chance said, into Rory’s ear. “Nice and slow.”
“Go to hell,” Rory said through clenched teeth, trying to dig in his heels.
Then he felt it against his skin again: a burst of magic. For a split second, the pressure of the gun was gone—and then it was back. “What just happened?”
“Shut up,” snarled Chance.
