He frowned, his magic automatically rising up—
Wesley’s hand closed on his sleeve. “Not the time.”
“I just—”
“No excuses. I felt my knees weaken, I know what you almost did.” Wesley tugged him down the hall, his voice a sharp whisper. “I’m aware your magic has a hair trigger these days, but I need to be able to move. Come on.”
Sebastian wanted to protest, but Wesley’s voice had a new edge. Their encounter with the fire paranormal Mercier had been only weeks ago; it was understandable Wesley didn’t want to be rendered helpless near flames.
They both turned, not for the wide stairs to the lobby but for the narrow staff stairs that led up to the next floor. But a man in a housekeeping uniform blocked their path.
“Sirs, you need to go outside.”
“But the people upstairs—” said Sebastian.
“We don’t need a panic,” the man said. “Fire’s contained on this floor. NYFD is here to search for the source, then we’ll let everyone back into their rooms.” He pointed to the staff stairs. “That goes down to the sidewalk and outside. You two are the last on the floor, go.”
Sebastian yanked the robe as tightly closed as he could. The stairs were cold against his bare feet as he followed behind Wesley in his slippers. The steps bottomed out in a concrete space with a heavy door. Wesley shouldered it open, and chilled wet air swirled in.
The displaced—and displeased—guests were crowded on the sidewalk, most of them in quality robes and pajamas. There was a white woman with her red hair in rollers, black silk peeking out from her robe; a circle of white men in dressing gowns gesturing with cigarettes. Staff in hotel uniforms were weaving in and out of clusters of guests, trying to soothe angry tempers. Everyone seemed to be snappish and arguing. Sebastian huddled deeper into the robe and gingerly stepped out to the sidewalk.
He followed Wesley to a spot just past the crowd. “What a fucking mess,” a man behind Sebastian was saying. “A fire on our floor; damned lucky it didn’t spread.”
The rain was more of a cold mist than actual droplets, but the sidewalk was damp and chilled. Sebastian grimaced as he awkwardly balanced on the hotel’s exterior wall so he could slide his wet feet into his shoes. He looked up at Wesley, who had his arms folded. He had to be freezing in nothing but the silk pajamas, but he simply looked irritated.
Sebastian’s pockets felt unusually light, and a second later he realized why. “I forgot the brooch.” He winced. “It’s in the pocket of my waistcoat, in your closet.”
Wesley took a breath through his nose. “I didn’t think of it either.”
Sebastian gritted his teeth. Perhaps the fire had thrown him too, but he shouldn’t have left the brooch behind, should have kept his head. “I need to go back up.”
“They’re handling the fire. You’ll just be thrown out again.”
“But—”
“And your special abilities are right off the table. You can’t knock down the firefighters, that’s not going to do anyone any good, and if you’re up there when they can’t fight the fire, you’ll be in danger too. So you’re not running back upstairs for that relic.”
“It could be stolen—”
“We should be so lucky,” Wesley said flatly.
His shoulders were tighter than normal. Sebastian didn’t argue about the brooch needing a murder too; he let it go, for the moment. The brooch was tucked away; someone would have to know about it and be searching their things to find it.
Wesley jerked his chin to the left. “There’s your Miss Matilda.”
Sebastian glanced down the sidewalk. Matilda from the bar was there, although she was still fully dressed, smoking cigarettes with the bartender from the lounge and two other flappers. She glanced back at Sebastian and gave him a wink.
“And now she’s flirting with you, because this is exactly what I needed, for my night to somehow become more trying,” Wesley said. “Think you can charm her into a smoke for me—”
Wesley cut himself off as his expression flickered with the closest thing to nerves Sebastian had ever seen on him.
“Fine!”
Fuck. Major Langford was making his way toward them from the crowd. The last person who could be trusted to see a man with Wesley, and Sebastian was at his side wearing nothing but a too-big robe embroidered with Wesley’s initials.
Sebastian jammed his arms around himself and over theWCjust as Langford strode up to them.
“Fine!” Langford said again. “Where’s your dressing gown, man, there are ladies here.”
