“But unconscious.” Arthur was scanning the room. There were opened army rations on the floor, a couple blankets, a radiator and a single light bulb on the ceiling. “What happened to them?”
“Ace?” Jade’s eyelashes were fluttering.
“Christ, Jade.” Arthur leaned forward, touched her face. “Are you all right?”
“Not hurt,” she mumbled. “Just...hot.”
Zhang’s wrist under Wesley’s fingers was likewise too warm. “Alasdair poisoned Sebastian, slipped something in his drink. Told Sebastian it turns magic on the magic user, causes the magic to attack the blood. He was just like this, feverish and weak, after he used his magic.”
“Ace,” Jade said again. “They took Rory.”
Arthur went very still.
“He was in here too,” she said, “but they took him, today, not that long ago.”
“Shit,” Wesley muttered, while Arthur’s words seemed to have stuck in his throat. “They sent Sebastian on a false trail to the masquerade; maybe that’s where they took Brodigan.”
Arthur blew out a breath. “How long have you been in here?”
“I don’t know.” Jade sounded just like Sebastian had, fuzzy and distant. “Since the speakeasy? Magic makes the fever worse but it’s hard to stop using it.”
Wesley looked more closely around the room. There were a few canteens next to the army rations. “Alasdair could have slipped more of the poison into your water, and then not given you lot anything else to drink.”
Jade touched Arthur’s arm. “Jianwei keeps getting trapped on the astral plane,” she said thickly. “The fever makes it hard for him to come back.”
Arthur swore. “Come on. We have to get them out.”
Langford’s gun stayed pressed against Sebastian’s back as he was forced back to the servants’ staircase. He didn’t dare shout; Langford’s demeanor was cold as ice, and Sebastian didn’t doubt he meant it when he said he’d shoot someone else.
“Up,” Langford said, as they reached the stairs. “Hands stay on your head. How did you shake your symptoms so fast? You shouldn’t be walking.”
Sebastian ignored the question. “Is Wesley upstairs?”
“Of course not,” Langford snapped. “I told you, he’s somewhere safe from you. Move.”
Sebastian set his jaw and began to climb. They went two flights up, bypassing the third floor and coming to the top of the staircase on the fourth. The ceiling was low and steeply pitched, and there was a single, short door on the landing, short enough Sebastian would have to duck to pass through.
As they crested the last stair, the door swung open. “There you are,” Alasdair said brightly. “Come in, come in. It’s a veritable symphony of magic in here.”
Sebastian’s eyebrows went up. “You hear magic?”
“Most magic. Not you, of course.” Alasdair held the door open expectantly. “I’m glad you’re here, though. We can’t start without you.”
That didn’t sound good. “Start what?”
That got him jabbed in the spine by Langford’s gun. “We didn’t bring you here for questions.”
“It’s all right, major,” said Alasdair. “Of course Sebastian has questions. I certainly would in his shoes.”
What could be seen of the room beyond Alasdair was dimly lit and seemed to be all wood: wood floors, paneled walls, wood beams. The attic, perhaps. “Are you planning to kill me?” Sebastian asked warily.
“Planningto? No,” said Alasdair. “Willingto? Absolutely. But that’s how I feel about everyone.” He clasped his hands together. “Now, before we go in: Major Langford and I would very much like you to use your magic again and reactivate the poison.”
Sebastian tried to keep his surprise off his face.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Alasdair said anyway. “You’re thinkingwhy would Alasdair announce that to me?You see, we can’t force you to use your magic. But I do think we can convince you another way.”
Using magic again would make him useless; it wasn’t an option. Sebastian shook his head.
