Oh. Of course. Sebastian had also figured out that Zhang was here.
And Sebastian still couldn’t see him anymore.
But before Wesley could think of something to say that might be comforting—or at least not add salt to the wound—Sebastian was turning to him. “At least without my magic, I’m not blocking Zhang from finding us anymore.”
He said it casually, like that was fine, or perhaps like he was determined to make it fine whether it really was or not. Wesley didn’t push. “I don’t care if there are twenty Mr. Zhangs with us on the astral plane right now, you caused me to nearly experience emotions and that’s unforgiveable,” Wesley murmured, but his hand had shot out of its own accord to touch Sebastian’s, wrapping ice-cold fingers in his own and squeezing.
Rory was touching his face and bare head, the soaked blond curls that hung limply dripping. “Aw damn,” he said, sounding disappointed all the way to his heart. “My hat. That’s the one from Ace—”
But Jade had her eyes closed again. A moment later, two small items came whipping across the pier to fallin front of Rory: a pair of glasses, and a sopping-wet newsboy cap. “The cap’s going to need a wash,” Jade started. “But—”
“You’re the best.” Rory had snatched up the hat before even the glasses. “You too, Zhang. I don’t know how you found these in the river.”
“Oh my goodness.” A voice much like Jade’s, but even more musical, floated down from the top of the dock. “It’s freezing and they’re soaked.”
Wesley glanced up. A stunningly lovely woman with the same russet-brown skin and bright eyes as Jade was coming down the pier in a slinky sheath dress and large fur coat, looking every inch the star she was as she picked her way down the dock in heels even higher than Jade’s.
Behind Stella was a woman with a short blond bob, dressed in trousers and flat shoes. Sasha, Stella’s bodyguard and girlfriend.
As she approached, Sasha was looking into the boat that held the gagged and hogtied Lenny and Tommy. “Who are these two?” she said, her voice a bit deeper than Stella’s, with a noticeable Russian accent. “The knots look very skilled; this must be your work, Jade. Are we worried they are going to tell people what they saw? You want me to handle them?”
And perhaps Wesley did need to stop underestimating people who weren’t himself, particularly when they were telekinetic and had superstrength.
“No one’s gonna believe them, especially when they’re running rum,” Rory said, teeth chattering. “Let the cops have them; I just want outta here before they show.”
“What were you going to tell us about Mr. Findlay?”Wesley said to Jade, as he and the women helped Rory and Sebastian to their feet. “Why was your hospital visit cut short?”
Jade blew out a very long breath. “The whole story is going to have to wait for the Magnolia,” she said. “But there was no point staying at the hospital when Alasdair is dead.”
“Dead?” Sebastian said in shock.
“Yes.” Jade met Wesley’s gaze. “And it might bemurder.”
* * *
Even with his coat around his shoulders and Wesley pressed to his side, Sebastian shivered the entire car ride to the Magnolia. Luckily it didn’t take long to get from Yonkers back to Harlem, and in short time he and Rory were being bustled through the Magnolia’s alley door.
Stella was immediately pulled away by Mack the bartender while Sasha took Wesley off to see Jade’s brother, Benson. Jade was the one to take Sebastian and Rory backstage.
“The band is already here and in their dressing room, and Grover is holding a staff meeting in the office,” she said, as they made their way down a narrow hall with four doors. A side table was pressed up against one wall, decorated with a lace cloth and several floral arrangements, presumably from Stella’s admirers. The speakeasy had previously been a tobacco shop, but this part of the hall smelled like flowers. “Which means there’s only one room left, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to borrow Stella’s boudoir. Sasha’s gone to find you dry clothes.”
Jade opened the final door, painted gold with one of Stella’s show posters hung on the outside. Sebastianstepped inside to a space bursting with color and even more floral scents. The molding had also been painted gold and the walls were papered with rows of pink roses, interspersed with more prints of Stella’s Paris and New York shows. There was a pink-and-white-striped chaise, a giant vanity with a chair and its own lighting, and racks and racks of clothes, most of them gauzy or sequined. Every flat surface held either more vases of flowers or bottles of perfume with labels in French.
“Aw geez,” Rory muttered behind him. “This place is exactly what we shoulda expected of the prettiest doll in New York.” He reached for a nearby table, picking up the closest bottle and taking a sniff. “You want to smell like the Hudson or orchids?”
Sebastian scrunched his nose.
Part of the room had been set up for clothes modeling and alterations, complete with a full-length mirror and changing area behind a tall, flower-decorated screen. Sebastian let Rory have that corner and instead stood over by the vanity, where he hopefully wouldn’t drip river water on any of Stella’s clothes.
He’d just stripped off his coat and soaked button-up shirt when the door cracked open and Wesley poked his head in. “I am delighted to inform you that your best option for clean, dry clothes are spare tuxedos kept on hand for the band.”
“Why would that delight you?” Sebastian asked, awkwardly hopping on one leg to pull off his shoe and wet sock as Wesley came fully into the dressing room.
“Because,” said Wesley, as he squeezed a stack of towels and folded black-and-white clothes on the only available corner of space on the small table by the door,“every time you ought to wear a proper tailcoat, you refuse like a petulant child.”
“I have a tuxedo,” Sebastian protested, grabbing the back of the vanity chair for balance as he wrenched off the other shoe. “You’ve seen me in it.”
“I said apropertailcoat,” Wesley said. “Not those modern dinner jackets you insist on. I’m afraid you can pout until you’re blue in the face and it won’t matter one whit. Tailcoat is all you’ve got, so you don’t have a choice.”
