“The one book I couldn’t move with telekinesis,” she said grimly, “because it was a built-in handle.”
“Oh, Jade, thank you.” Sebastian hurried forward, where Jade had already moved to the side and was gesturing for him to go ahead.
The light from the library spilled from behind them into the stairwell, and then disappeared as Sebastian rounded the spiral. He crested the stairs into a dark attic space—and saw the body crumpled at the far end of the room.
Chapter Thirteen
The butler had led Wesley and Zhang to a study not far from the ballroom where Wesley had once spent an unenjoyable evening.
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Wesley instructed the butler. “You’re going to go down to your cellar and find the best scotch Blanshard has. You’re going to open it, pour me a glass, put it on a tray, and then wait outside this room with my drink until my associate Mr. Zhang and I are finished with our calls. You will see to it that no one disturbs us in the meantime. Do you understand?”
The butler looked like he had a headache, but he smiled weakly. “Of course, sir.”
Wesley waited until the door to the study had been firmly shut.
“Jade and Sebastian found the trophy room. It’s exactly as you described it, but no sign of Mateo de Leon yet,” said Zhang said quietly. “The butler is cursing your name on his way to the kitchens and we’re mostly alone. Let’s go.”
Across the study was a large window that framed the gardens. It was open, letting in the cool September air, and the grounds within view were empty. Wesley and Zhang carefully maneuvered themselves out the window, dropping lightly to the ground. They walked behind the hedges down the length of the house until they were at the window Wesley remembered by the grand staircase.
This one was open as well. Wesley and then Zhang levered themselves back inside through it, pausing a moment behind the giant drapes.
“The hall is empty,” Zhang confirmed in a whisper.
“What evenisthe astral plane?” Wesley said, matching his whisper. “Can all of you paranormals access it?”
Zhang shook his head. “Only those of us with walking magic.”
“Christ,” Wesley muttered. “You lot can’t just be magic, you each have to be special too?”
“Aren’t you a viscount? Don’t you have special rules just for your name?”
“Hmph.”
They quickly took the stairs up, their steps muffled by the thick carpets, and then followed the maze-like hallways from Wesley’s memories to the trophy room. The door was shut, and Wesley carefully let himself in, only to find the room empty.
With Zhang right behind him, Wesley strode in between the many pedestals, coming to a stop in the middle of the room. He frowned, looking around—
There was a quiet creak, and Wesley promptly crumpled to the floor in an inelegant puddle.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!”
Wesley managed to crack an eye.
One of the bookshelves had swung open like a door, and Jade was on the bottom step. “With Jianwei’s projection gone, I didn’t realize you were here already,” she said.
“Mph,” Wesley tried to say. Maybe he’d just take a nap.
But Zhang was grabbing at his arm, forcing him up to sit up. “Did you find Mateo de Leon?”
That was important. Wesley forced his lips to move. “Is he—?”
“Alive, yes,” Jade said grimly, “but entirely unresponsive.”
“Seb—?” Wesley tried to ask.
“Is in the hidden room with his brother.” Jade stepped down into the room, closing the bookshelf behind her, and suddenly Wesley’s limbs were steady again.
“Lead paint on the back of the bookshelves,” said Zhang. “It’s a barrier that blocks the magic upstairs from coming into this room when the door is closed.”
