Sebastian rolled his eyes.
“Last night Lord Fine saw with his own eyes that you can protect him,” said Zhang. “He’ll go with you. He can’t stay in London—his staff would be in danger and his cook has a young daughter.”
Sebastian winced. “You’re right, he can’t stay here. But—”
“Are you saying you won’t protect this innocent nonmagical viscount?”
Sebastian gave him a dirty look over his coffee. “Of course I’m not saying that.”
“So do you need me to help you pack?”
Sebastian sighed. “Where are we going?”
“Yorkshire.”
“Yorkshire?But Lord Blanshard has a manor there.”
“I saw the body in York,” Zhang said, more quietly, “but neither Jade nor I can pick up traces of magic like you can. We hoped maybe you could learn something at the murder scene, maybe figure out how they’re doing this without witnesses.”
“But wouldn’t York put Lord Fine in more danger?”
“Mercier is here, in London, and it sounds like Blanshard is too,” said Zhang. “The San Juan painting will be hung at Fine’s townhouse here, to keep the staff safe. Lord Fine is currently setting a false trail to another of his homes in the Lake District. He has his own Yorkshire manor, which he said is empty. Seems he hasn’t been back to it since Blanshard’s party in 1922.”
“But what about Molly’s boarding house?”
“The murder scene is still too busy for you to get close without knocking all of the nonmagical to the ground. Jade and I will keep investigating, and then meet you in York in a day or two.”
Sebastian folded his arms. “Who’s going to feed the strays if I go?”
“Jade even thought of that,” Zhang said, sounding amused. “The cook’s daughter is eleven and adores animals. Lord Fine has apparently never allowed pets in the basement before, but under the circumstances, Jade convinced him to make an exception. Elsie will care for any cats we bring her. She’s over the moon.”
“That’s very sweet,” Sebastian grudgingly admitted. It was a nice thought, his strays finding a home with a kind little girl and making her happy.
Zhang leaned forward. “I know you knew the maid who was killed, but you can’t help her now. You can help Lord Fine. Will you say yes?”
Sebastian chewed on his lip. Of course he was going to go with Lord Fine. Mercier had tried to kill him already, and they might come back after him.
Sebastian could hide Lord Fine; all he had to do was keep close enough that the whirlpool effect of his tattoo could hide them both.
Close enough that if a former British Army captain still slept battlefield-light, he might catch Sebastian if he woke trapped in a blood terror.
Sebastian quickly picked up his coffee. Zhang had said they were staying in a country manor; surely there would be a servant’s room close to Lord Fine where Sebastian could sleep and not risk waking him. Why would Lord Fine even agree to this plan? He didn’t like or trust Sebastian. The blood terrors weren’t going to be an issue.
The blood terrors should never have been an issue in the first place,his mind needled him.With your magic, you should have been over them long ago. Now Mercier is back, and a nonmagical viscount is in danger, and all you are is a ghost of yourself, broken and fractured—
“Of course I’ll go with him,” Sebastian said, bringing the coffee to his lips to hide an unsteady hand. “Just tell me where and when to meet him.”
Chapter Eight
A few hours later, Sebastian was standing on a train platform in King’s Cross, hands in his coat pockets, his rucksack on the floor next to him.
Zhang had seemed confident Lord Fine would go along with the plan, but Sebastian frankly didn’t expect him to.
You’re certainly giving him feelings,Zhang had said,but I don’t think it’s fear.
Of course it was fear. What else would Lord Fine be feeling around him?
A new train pulled up, the blast of air whipping around the underground station. Then the train doors opened, and there was Lord Fine. That morning, at the side of the bed, Lord Fine’s shirtsleeves had been rolled up and he’d worn no jacket or robe. Now he was impeccably dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit and a blue tie around his stiff, high collar, topped with a tall hat. In one hand, he held a walking stick, a black coat draped over his arm, and in his other hand he was carrying his own suitcase. He walked with a very straight spine like he was marching onto a battlefield.
