“Brodigan is really quite formidable, you do know that?” Wesley said. “Sharp enough to think to check the medical journals for mentions of Hyde and he controls the sodding wind to boot.”
“I know, I just worry,” Arthur said. “Rory has had such bad experiences with asylums. I can tell he’s on edge here and strong emotions don’t always play well with magic.”
There was a moment of silence, then Arthur and Wesley looked at each other.
“He did leave his ring in the car,” Arthur said. “Didn’t he?”
* * *
Sebastian and Rory made their way together along the side of the asylum. Ivy grew up the stone walls, and while it was likely very pretty in summer, in December it looked brittle as dead grass, only the empty stems.
“How big an object can you scry, Rory?” Sebastian asked, eyes peeled for nurses or security guards. Not that there was anyone to see; it was cold and still lightlyraining, and no one else was out on the grounds. It rankled at Sebastian. Surely Hyde hadn’t been transferred from the secure facility up north to this one?
Rory pointed just past one of the garden benches next to the frozen pond, to a nymph carved from white stone. “I can try scrying that statue. Maybe Hyde’s doctor walked in the garden with his patients. But…”
“But what?”
Rory was reaching into his pocket. “I’ll get better results if I take the ring out of its lead box.”
His shoulders were still tense, his expression tight and unhappy. Sebastian cleared his throat. “And you’re, um—feeling up to having the power of the wind right now?” he said, as nicely as he could. When he’d been bound to the brooch relic, it had been extra difficult to keep control of his magic when his emotions were high.
“I’m gonna be up to it,” Rory said firmly. “We gotta know what happened.”
He slid the bright gold ring relic onto his finger. The brown ivy stalks rustled ever so slightly in the breeze.
Sebastian bit his lip. Surely Rory knew what he was doing. It would be fine.
* * *
The clerk wasn’t gone long before he returned to the lobby, a file in hand. Arthur and Wesley crossed back to the desk. “Now, I’m not supposed to share patient records,” the clerk said, “but it would seem this man is no longer a patient here.”
Well, shit. “Nolongera patient here?” Arthur said, as Wesley stuck out his hand pointedly for the file. “So hewashere? When did he leave?”
“Couple weeks ago.” The clerk passed Wesley the file. “He was checked out by a relative.”
“Relative?” Wesley repeated.
There was a sudden rumble overhead, a deep sound one felt in one’s chest.
Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Was that—thunder?” The clerk frowned. “Well, that’s something you don’t hear very often around here, isn’t it?”
“Excuse me.” Arthur had gone a shade paler and was hastily backing up. “I think I need a moment of fresh air. A bit of a breeze, if you will.”
He all but ran out the door, just as there was another clap of thunder, louder than before. It was accompanied by a clatter in the hall beyond the lobby, where a series of shouts went up. “One moment,” the clerk said, turning and hurrying out into the hall.
Not likely. Wesley tucked the file into his coat and darted out the door after Arthur. As he opened the door, yet another rumble of thunder shook the grounds.
“Now, Brodigan?Really?” Wesley muttered, as he hurried to the car. Just as he reached the driver’s door, the heavens opened up and the light drops of rain became sheets of water.
Wesley jumped into the car, getting behind the wheel just as the others came running up in a cluster, all of them already drenched. Rory looked particularly guilty, Arthur pressed tight to his side.
“Fleeing an asylum with three soggy Americans in tow—what has my life become?” Wesley set the folder on the seat, leaned out the side of the Bentley and raised his voice. “All of you, get in the car before the staff come out.”
No one argued, and moments later they were back out on the country road. “Did you at least learn anythingbefore your pet wind blew in a thunderstorm and soaked the place?” Wesley said, watching for potholes as rain pelted the Bentley’s cloth roof.
“Yeah.” Rory sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth. “Hyde was at that hospital. I saw him in a wheelchair, by the statue in the garden.”
