But it was as before.
“Nothing.” Rory opened his eyes, looking frustrated. “I mean, notnothingnothing. I can see them leave the factory. I can see the pharmacist put them out on a shelf. But I can’t see who bought them.”
Wesley leaned in. “Can you tell anything about the pharmacy where they were purchased?”
“I’d bet New York, or close by, maybe even recently.” Rory held up the tonic. “This was displayed in the front window. There was a tree outside with leaves in fall colors.”
“Is it Dr. Wright that’s blocking Rory’s magic, then?” Arthur said, frowning.
“He said he hadn’t given Lady Nora any pills,” Sebastian said. “He could be lying, of course, but…”
“But his confusion did seem genuine,” Wesley agreed. “Perhaps he’s being used, whether by the Duke of Valemount or the niece.”
“Lady Nora said she’d be at the ball on Friday, yes?” Arthur said. “It still sounds like you’ll need to investigate there.”
Wesley heard Sebastian’s sigh.
After making plans to meet in the terminal building the next day after Arthur and Rory finished with customs, they parted ways. Wesley and Sebastian quietly stole down the second-class promenade and used the same staff staircase to sneak back to first class and D-deck.
But as they came up the grand stairs to C-deck, there, in the small lobby area under the chandelier, was Dr. Wright, sitting in one of the wingback chairs. He had a book in his hands and his walking stick set on his lap, and he was staring straight at them with a very flat look.
“Don Sebastian, wasn’t it?” He closed the book. “And Lord Fine, of course. How’s yourfever?”
Wesley had the distinct sense he and Sebastian had just been called liars.
Wesley cleared his throat. “Still feeling a bit ill, actually,” he said easily. “Don Sebastian was kind enough to accompany me to get some broth.”
“Mmm,” Dr. Wright said noncommittally. He still wore his hat and glasses, and with his thick beard it was nearly impossible to read his true expression in the dim lighting of the landing. “Well, I’m sure you’re headed to your rooms now for your rest. Don’t let me keep you.”
He opened his book, sitting back in his chair withan air of someone settling in. Wesley and Sebastian exchanged a look and began to make their way down the hall. “Why is he readingthere?” Sebastian said under his breath, as they walked. “Why not the drawing room, or the lounge?”
“He has a perfect view of C-deck’s halls from that spot,” Wesley said, just as quietly. “Was he watching for us? Did he decide that if we’re going to barge into his room, he’s going to watch us back?”
They were at the door to Wesley’s stateroom now. Sebastian glanced over his shoulder. “He’s still there. You better go into your own room alone. But lock your door and don’t let anyone in, Wes.”
Wesley wanted to argue. But there was still a possibility that the doctor was an unknowing accomplice, to either the duke or Lady Nora, and all he would see was two men sharing a very small room, with a single bed, very late. Wesley would be bringing Sebastian as his guest to at least the Beckley Hunt Ball; probably best to avoid the chance of rumors spreading.
He went into his stateroom by himself, frowning at the empty bed in distaste. Well, it was temporary; he’d sneak into Sebastian’s room after Dr. Wright finally left.
But when Wesley cracked his door a couple of hours later, Dr. Wright was still there.
* * *
Wake up, de Leon, this isn’t your tropical paradise—
Sebastian’s eyes flew open. For a moment, he had no idea where he was—on a mattress, in the dark, it was cold and his room was small and empty—
The bed shifted under him, the familiar comfort of a rolling ocean wave. The present came sweeping back to him: he was on a ship.
Sebastian’s breath left him in a rush. His hands flew to his face, shaking where they pressed again sweat-drenched skin.
He was in a stateroom onboard theGaston, sailing to Southampton. Alone, because he and Wesley had been watched. And he hadn’t had a blood terror; this was just a nightmare, and he could move, and wasn’t trapped. But the dream was still there, a memory as bright as if he were living it again.
Wake up, de Leon—
He clenched his jaw before a sound could escape. Had he been loud already, in the throes of the dream? Enough to wake other passengers? Had he panicked because his mind thought it was having another blood terror, the small space too reminiscent of the quarters he’d had when he’d been under blood magic in Germany—
He had to get some air.
