The cab took them across Paris, back to the cabaret. Arthur went ahead of Jade and Zhang this time, all the way up the stairs. Most of the space on the building’s top floor was taken up by a small lounge for performers and tenants.
Ellis met them at the door. “Keep it down,” he said to Arthur in a harsh whisper, as he blocked the doorway. “The kid’s in a trance.”
Worry flared in Arthur. “Where is Rory?” He pushed past Ellis, into the room.
Ellis grabbed his arm. “I saidkeep it down,” he hissed. “He’s with Gwen, scrying the siphon. If anyone can make a bit of fifteenth-century magic work again, it’s those two.”
Arthur set his jaw. He looked at Ellis’s hand, still on his bicep. “Let go of me,” he said, low and warningly.
Ellis released him, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just trying to keep you from charging in like a bull elephant, all right? You do that, charge in to save people without thinking it through. It’s how you get hurt.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, Arthur was years away, to the day in Germany when he’d first seen magic. The day Arthur had found Ellis—one of his own men—surrounded by enemy soldiers and rushed in to help just as Ellis had vanished into invisibility. Arthur had been taken prisoner in his place, and he still bore the scars Hyde had carved into his chest.
But Ellis could have left him to die. Instead, he’d come back for Arthur.
Arthur swallowed and moved farther into the room. As he took in the scene, his skin broke out in prickles.
The lounge was full of mismatched furniture, the velvet worn bare in places. There were glass doors to a tiny smoking balcony at the far end, standing wide open to let in the night breeze.
Rory and Gwen were on the green rug on the floor, across from each other. Rory had taken off the ruffled collar and black skullcap, and was dressed now in only the loose white shirt and trousers with his blond curls uncovered and his eyes still ringed by kohl. Gwen still had on her red party dress and long black gloves, but now she also wore her amulet and Rory his ring.
Between them, on the floor, was the strangest clock Arthur had ever seen. Almost like a miniature castle, about two feet tall, bright gold filigreed sides and turrets at the top. The clock face was circular, with multiple dials laid on top of each other like gears on the back of a watch. The colors were beautiful, turquoise blue, tropical green, and black onyx inlaid with concentric symbols in gold.
Rory had his hands on the clock, his eyes closed and his lips moving. Whatever he was saying, it was too quiet for Arthur to pick up. Gwen’s eyes were open but unfocused, her wide pupils reflective black as she stared at the siphon clock like she was drinking in its secrets.
Jade moved quietly into the room behind Arthur and Ellis, and took a seat on a chaise. Zhang sat at her side, the pair of them watching Gwen and Rory intently.
But Arthur stayed on his feet. “I don’t think this is safe,” he whispered to Ellis. “The seller, Lord Blanshard, said he’d been forced to allow us to steal the siphon. Who forced him? With what? What if we’re playing right into some kind of trap?”
Ellis made a face, but said, “Then it’s even more important he scries it now.”
“Why?” Arthur demanded. “If Rory knows its secrets—”
“Because you want to put that pomander out of commission, don’t you?” said Ellis. “But what if, instead of just hiding it again, we could destroy it? Keep all the non-magic folks safe?”
Arthur hesitated. “That would be my preference,” he admitted. “But why would you care about that?”
“Because I’m the only paranormal in my family, Ace. I got nieces and nephews back in North Carolina, and Gwen’s got non-magic family too. Maybe we don’t go see them anymore, but you think we want some piece of fifteenth-century magic like that pomander loose in the world any more than Jade and Mr. Zhang do?”
Arthur admittedly hadn’t thought about that. “But we left the pomander in New York. It’s too soon to scry the siphon—”
“I’m willing to give up my relic.”
Arthur glanced at him in surprise.
“It’s not just a magical blade. It’s full of paralysis magic. The Venom Dagger, remember?” Ellis’s eyes were on Gwen. “We’re not taking the relics away from the subordinate paranormals, they need them. They’re drowning in magic otherwise. So I offered my dagger, because if it goes wrong, I’ll keep my head—well.” His jaw tightened. “What’s left of my head. I’m aware I’m not the man you once knew.”
Despite himself, Arthur felt a pang of sympathy. “It’s not as if the last couple years have been easy for you.”
“It got a lot better once Gwen and I found our way back to each other.” Ellis gestured at the dagger in its hilt on his belt. “You want to know if you can destroy the pomander. You ought to be sure it’s gonna work before you go messing with a relic that enslaves non-magic minds, and you don’t have an extra relic back in New York. So the kid scries it now, and then we siphon the magic out of my dagger as a test run.”
Arthur furrowed his brow. He watched Rory’s lips move. “I don’t hate everything about that plan,” he finally admitted. “But if Rory scries the siphon, then he will have more knowledge that others might be willing to kill for.”
“Yeah,” said Ellis. “But you already have to keep your sweetheart away from Zeppler for the other secrets he holds. What’s one more?”
One more was one more, the secrets Rory held stacking higher and higher, making him an evermore wanted prize for a telepath who could pick everything out of his mind.
They were silent for several minutes, then Arthur felt Ellis’s eyes were on him. “How you holding up?” he said, even more quietly.
