“But—”
“Zhang’s with us right now, on the plane. If they need us, he’ll tell me.”
Sebastian huffed. “But—”
“You got blood all over your face and Fine’s losing it; you’re going outside.”
Rory pushed Sebastian forward, and for someone short and skinny, he had a wiry strength that was surprisingly firm. Sebastian found himself swept out the side door and into the car-lined alley outside the Magnolia. A light snow was falling, maybe half an inch already coating the cars and bricks.
He grudgingly moved farther into the alley, toward a parked Model T. “What do you mean, Wesley’s losing it?”
“I mean your fancy lord is in the middle of a New York bar brawl and he’s not taking prisoners.”
Sebastian winced. “Is Wes okay? Can Zhang see him?”
“Fine’s fine.” Rory pointed at Sebastian. “You? Not so much.”
Sebastian bent to look at his reflection in one of the car windows, and cringed at his blood-streaked face. He gingerly felt his throbbing cheek, checking his cheekbone. Bruised, but not broken, at least.
“For the record,” Rory said, leaning against the car door, “I’m never gonna let Fine live this down.”
Sebastian winced again. “The fight is my fault—”
“Knock it off,” Rory said, though not meanly. “You didn’t do anything but dance. That guy was a prick who took a cheap shot at you. I don’t blame Fine for being mad.”
“But if I wasn’t so useless, I could have dodged, and nothing would have happened for Wesley to get mad about.” Sebastian’s hand was unsteady where it touched his smarting cheek. “If I still had my magic, I could have neutralized him.”
“Yeah,” Rory said, with sympathy. “If you had your magic, you could’ve flattened the whole place. You don’t, though, and that’s okay, ’cause you got us, right? And you got Fine. Get the sense the fella who hit you is lucky Fine only put him on the floor and not in the grave.”
Sebastian swallowed. His skin was clammy with cooled sweat from dancing and the outside cold was beginning to seep into him. He didn’t even have a jacket on, snowflakes further dampening his thin dress shirt, and at the moment he happily would have taken a tailcoat for at least a little protection against a late November in New York.
“Billy should not be allowed around Edith.” Sebastian scooped up a handful of snow off the car and held it to his bruised cheek. “I don’t know if he’d hit her, but his temper—”
“No one’s gonna let that dick near a doll again,” Rory said. “Stella took your dancing partner into the back office and gave her some brandy. Ace and Fine are dragging the asshole out to hand over to the cops.”
“The cops?” Oh no. “They’re not going to shut down the Magnolia, are they?”
“You know Ace would never let that happen.” Rory turned to a patch of empty air next to him, head cocked. “Yeah okay,” he said to the air. “Ace and I will give Seb and Fine a ride.”
Sebastian’s skin was starting to sting under the uncomfortable cold of snow. “We can get a cab—”
“You’ve met Ace, right?” Rory said fondly. “He wants to see you two home safe and you might as well give in. Zhang says the cops are buying Ace and Fine’s story; they’re about to head our way.”
A few minutes later, Sebastian was climbing into the backseat of the red Cadillac, Arthur behind the steering wheel and Rory in the front passenger seat.
“You want to come to our place tonight?” Arthur asked over his shoulder, as Sebastian scooted over to make room for Wesley.
“No.” Wesley got in next to Sebastian, into the space behind Rory. “I’ll tell the hotel we were mugged. They can get us a doctor.”
“I don’t need—”
“Yes you do,” Wesley said, cutting off Sebastian’s protest. “It’s not up for debate.”
Sebastian opened his mouth to argue, then sighed. “Okay,” he said, in defeat.
Wesley raised an eyebrow. “The army medic is giving in that easy?”
“I’m not exactly winning any fights tonight,” Sebastian muttered.
