Oh no. “What message?” Wesley said grimly.
“Well, I said it was from you, actually,” said Alasdair. “That you were detained and to join you at the masquerade tonight. I had to get a bit creative, you see, we weren’t expecting Sebastian to recover so quickly and we’re going to need him and his blood.”
“What do you want with hisblood?”
“You can worry about that when you decide to join us,” Langford said curtly. “What do you think? Are you in?”
Wesley’s hands had balled into fists. “I think this is the part where I tell you both to go to hell.”
“I told you he was enchanted too,” Langford said to Alasdair. “It’s been clear since we met him in New York that Fine isn’t himself.”
“I do hear a tiny bit of magic on him, it’s true,” said Alasdair. “I can’t quite tell what it is, though, it’s very muffled.”
Wesley very carefully did not clap a hand to the ring box in his pocket. Surely Alasdair couldn’t hear the ring through lead? Sebastian had said no magic got through.
“We’ll lock him up with the other one,” said Langford. “They’re soldiers, they’ll come around.”
The other one?
But at that moment, Alasdair moved, quick as a cobra, and clapped a cloth over Wesley’s mouth.
He breathed in a sickly sweet scent.
Fucking villains with chloroform.
“I love the elegance of solutions without magic,” was the last thing he heard Alasdair say, and then the world was dark.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sebastian sat in a car he’d borrowed—yes,borrowed, he told the Wesley in his head, he’d leave it where it could be found and returned—on a hillside just outside of Tarrytown, under the cover of tall trees with bright autumn leaves.
After the message, he’d bought a tuxedo from a store—not the haberdashery over Alasdair’s speakeasy, obviously—and asked around town until he’d found someone who could tell him where the governor’s son’s mansion was. Now he was parked up the road from the open gate, watching the cars turn in. The grounds covered several acres of the hillside and probably had lovely views of the river and Catskills in the daylight. In the darkening evening, the stone pillars on either side of the gate were topped with giant carved pumpkins that glowed like lanterns. The house could be seen in the distance, four stories high and illuminated with pale white lights against the night.
Tell Mr. de Leon I’ll make sure he’s been added to the guest list.
Part of him wanted to sneak in. Always easier when you didn’t draw attention to yourself, and Sebastian wanted to find out what was going on. Alasdair had mentioned that he was going to be supplying this party with alcohol; there was a chance he was delivering it personally.
Of course, sneaking in was a lot easier when you could knock guards down and keep them there.
He glanced down at his wrist. The lion was there, but still fainter than usual, occasionally slipping away completely before coming back. Using magic would be risky, and something he wanted to avoid if at all possible. If he slipped back into the fever daze, he’d be no good to anyone.
Which left the front door. Sebastian started the engine, and drove forward, turning in through the gate toward the lit mansion beyond.
“Wesley.Wesley.”
Wesley’s head was pounding, but he heard the familiar voice calling his name as if from a distance.
“Come on, Wesley, you’ve been out for ages. Wake up.”
Wesley forced his eyes open. He took in his new location: a small room, with concrete walls, a sink in the corner, no windows and a bare light bulb high above. Across from him was a bunk bed stacked three high, like the sailors’ quarters on a navy ship. He himself was on a coarse mattress on what seemed to be another bunk, the bottom of the one above quite close. At the wall beyond his feet was an open doorway where the air seemed almost glittery, and beyond that he could see through another open doorway into the room across the hall.
And standing in the other room, calling his name, was Arthur. He had three days’ worth of black beard on his face, dark circles under his blue eyes, and his suit looked like he’d been sleeping in it, but it was Arthur.
“Christ, Arthur.” Wesley forced himself up, having to hunch to avoid the bunk above. He reflexively touched his jacket, relieved to find the heavy lead ring box still tucked away in his interior pocket. “We’ve been looking for you, where the fuck have you been?”
“Really?” Arthur said incredulously. He gestured around them. “Take a look around, Wes. I’ve beenhere.”
“Where’shere?”
