Wesley narrowed his eyes, watching their backs disappear as Sir Ellery and Alasdair were swallowed up by the crowd.
Chapter Seven
From Grand Central, Wesley firmly vetoed the subway, so they took a cab to Mott Street on the Lower East Side. They wove through Chinatown, past shops and restaurants set into colorful, multistory buildings, following narrowing streets until they found the Dragon House at the ground level of a redbrick building. The English name was spelled out on the glass door under a red awning, and a white banner with red Chinese characters hung outside. It seemed to be just opening for dinner, and a few people could be seen already seated at tables inside.
Sebastian’s tattoo was prickling as they stood on the sidewalk outside the restaurant’s large windows. The buildings all around them rose four to five stories, with black iron fire escapes on the front. Next to the Dragon House’s main entrance, a metal door was firmly shut.
Sebastian stepped to the side of the building and put a hand on the metal door. He closed his eyes, concentrating in effort, and sent out a tiny pulse of tightly contained magic, not enough to knock Wesley down.
The answering magic rose up like he’d thrown petrol on a fire.
Sebastian hastily scrambled back. His own enervation magic was instinctively simmering in response, like water ready to boil, and his blood was roiling like the brooch was rallying it to arms. He quickly and forcefully tamped all of it down.
“So do we have a plan for getting in?” Wesley was studying the building. “Do we, I don’t know, sneak in the back? Is there some sort of faery veil to cross, or a rabbit hole to Wonderland?”
Sebastian made a quiet laugh. “Probably not, but the building is full of guardian magic. We’re not sneaking in unless I tear it all down, and I don’t want to do that. We’re here as friends, not to try to destroy whatever magical defenses the Zhangs have in place. And it would be very poor manners to knock down everyone in his restaurant.”
“Fair enough.” Wesley eyed the fire escape. “How obvious would it be if we jumped up there and went in through someone’s window? It’s only a crowded street in broad daylight, after all.”
That made Sebastian smile. “I say we just go in and have an early dinner. Maybe Zhang is inside, and I bet the food is good.”
Wesley’s gaze went back to the windows and the tables inside.
I’ve lived for years only a stone’s throw from London’s restaurants, yet I’ve tried almost nothing, Wesley had said to Sebastian once.I don’t change.
Except a day after saying that, Wesley had saved Paris from magic with Sebastian, because Wesley believed a lot of things about himself that weren’t true.
A paper menu had been affixed to the window. Wesley stepped forward to study it, closer to the building’s guardian magic—and Sebastian’s magic leapt up in response.
Sebastian slammed down on it, a hair too late. Wesley had already stumbled and grabbed for the redbrick wall. “Sebastian.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Sebastian said, hands up in apology.
“What the hell was that for?” Wesley said, as he straightened up. “I thought we were staying away from the guardian magic so your magic would be fine. You didn’t even move from your spot over there!”
Sebastian cringed, but he’d nearly sent Wesley to the sidewalk and owed him an explanation. “Butyougot close to the window and the guardian magic.”
“So?”
“So I think that triggered my magic.”
“But why would me approaching other magic trigger your magic?”
“To, um. To protect you.”
Wesley blinked.
Sebastian pointed to his wrist, the one with the tattoo. “It obviously likes you more than anyone else.”
Wesley’s gaze went to the lion, and lingered.
Sebastian winced. “I’m sorry,” he said again, awkwardly sticking his hands in his pockets. “Nothing is ever normal with me.”
“Fuck normal,” Wesley said, with feeling. “Buy me dinner.”
Sebastian managed to squish his magic down enough to walk through the restaurant doors, and they were led to a table against the window.
Wesley picked up the dim sum menu from the table and scanned it. “Arthur mentioned something he liked here, back when he and Brodigan stayed with me in the spring. Pork buns, they were called.”
