Sebastian’s gaze had gone straight to the tiny box on top of a bundle of bills. “Wes.”
Wesley followed his gaze. “Is that box for cuff links? Or a ring, perhaps?”
“Rory kept his ring relic in a box like that when I saw it in London,” Sebastian said.
“You think that could beBrodigan’s?” Wesley said, eyebrows flying up. “But if Alasdair already had a relic, why not use it?”
“It’s bound to Rory,” Sebastian said. “It’s not going to work for anyone else until he’s dead.”
They exchanged a glance.
Sebastian swallowed. “What if—”
“No,” Wesley said brusquely. “Brodigan’s not dead. No one who vexes me that much would ever die. We’re proceeding on the assumption the lot of them are alive.”
Sebastian let out a breath. “Okay,” he said, reaching into the cabinet. He touched the ring box, and painful pinpricks shot up his fingers.
“This is lead too.” He ignored the needle-like sting against his skin as he encircled the box in his hand. “So we should take this—Wesley,” he said, as Wesley took him firmly by the wrist and pulled his hand away.
“Why are you touching something that hurts you?”
“Because—”
“Why are you touching anything magic, period?”
“Well—”
“We’re not taking chances with things that might send you back into that fever daze,” Wesley said. “Hands to yourself.”
“But—”
Wesley had already reached into the safe and picked up the ring box. “You have a perfectly serviceable mortal right here. I’ll do it.”
“I don’t want you touching magic either!”
“What kind of posturing fool do you take me for? Of course I’m not touching magic. But I can hold this lead box and open it for your eyes with neither of us taking the risk or experiencing pain.” Wesley cracked the top of the ring box.
Sebastian stilled at the sight of the familiar jewels, a ring he’d seen in a pub in London in the spring, when he and Rory had talked about relics. “Yes,” Sebastian said quietly, “it’s Rory’s.”
“I see.” Wesley snapped the box shut. “Well. We’re taking this with us, then. OrI’mtaking it with us, to be precise. You’re not touching it until we’re certain your magic is healed.” He tucked it away in his jacket. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
They scrambled back up the main stairs. “But why does Alasdair have Rory’s ring?” Sebastian said, as they stepped into the alley. “And where are the others?”
“Maybe we find this gambling den next?” Wesley said. “Alasdair told you it was close. We should search—shit.”
Sebastian followed Wesley’s gaze down the alley. “Oh no.”
Major Langford was across the street, looking in the cigar store with a grim expression.
“Hell and damnation.” Wesley pursed his lips. “How could it possibly be coincidence that he’s this close to where Sir Ellery was shot?”
“It can’t be,” Sebastian said. “We have to get him out of here.”
Major Langford stepped farther down the street, disappearing from sight. “Come on,” Wesley muttered. They quickly darted out from the alley. Sebastian scanned the street: two pedestrians. A car parked at the curb. No Alasdair.
Wesley started crossing the street. “Major,” he called brusquely.
Langford turned, his gaze going to Wesley, then Sebastian. His expression went stonily unreadable. “Fine, what are you doing here?”
