Wonderstruck

by Allie Therin

  Rory shook his head.

  “Oh.” Arthur’s heart lightened. “Well, if you’re free and interested, maybe we can—”

  “I quit.”

  Arthur blinked.

  “I quit my job.” Rory hugged himself tightly. “I called this morning and left a message for Mr. Baker, told him I’m not coming back.” He shrugged, and there was nothing easy about the gesture when he looked tense enough to snap. “I, uh. I got a little savings from Mrs. B, so I’ll be okay for a few weeks. But, um. I don’t have a job now.”

  Arthur’s heart did a funny flip. “Teddy—”

  “I mean, I hated that job. Worst I ever had. It was gonna pay my bills, though, so I don’t know what I’m gonna do without it.” He hunched further into himself. “But supposedly I’ve got this boyfriend who says I can ask him for help. Or at least, I hope he isn’t gonna let me starve—”

  “Christ, get over here.” Arthur didn’t wait; he reached for Rory, snagging his wrist and tumbling him down into the covers. “Oh, baby, you’re shaking.”

  “I don’t know why this is so hard, it’s just a job,” Rory said plaintively, unusually pliant as he let Arthur hold him tightly. “A really awful job. The worst job. I can find another—probably—aw, Ace, what if I can’t find another job?”

  “If I could remind you that you are surrounded by people who care about your well-being—”

  “Maybe I could work at the Magnolia.” Rory buried his face against Arthur’s chest. “Jade’s too sweet to leave me on the street.”

  “Um, excuse me, I don’t intend to leave you on the street.”

  “But I’d be great at bootlegging, I could make her lots of money. Or I could wash all the dishes for Zhang’s family.”

  “You could do all of that. But working and making money is not why any of us want you around.” Arthur scooted down the bed to see Rory’s face, reaching for his glasses so they could both be comfortable. “You’re very brave.”

  “Oh sure,” Rory said, with heavy sarcasm, as he tilted his head to let Arthur pull his glasses off. “That’s why I’m falling apart over quitting a bad job.”

  They were nearly nose to nose on the mattress, the borrowed dressing gown bunching under Rory’s chin. “It’s understandable,” said Arthur. “America traps the working class in wretched positions because they are desperate for a wage and afraid to quit.”

  “Oh, how would you know, you Fifth Avenue prick,” Rory muttered, but not meanly. “You’ve never had to ask for help.”

  “Please. I inherited help.” Arthur kissed him once, Rory’s mouth trembling under his. “I had wealthy parents, wealthy grandparents, and a trust fund before I was born. Through no effort of my own I was given a safety net, while you’ve worked since childhood and still walk a tightrope without one.”

  He ran his thumb over Rory’s chapped lower lip. “It isn’t fair. But you do have people to catch you now. I will catch you.”

  Rory swallowed. “You might have to,” he said, barely more than a whisper. “And I feel so guilty. You said I wasn’t a burden, but Ace, I feel like one.”

  “Baby,” Arthur said again, and cupped Rory’s face. “Do I look like a man who feels burdened?”

  Rory swallowed again, searching Arthur’s eyes with his beautiful, unfocused brown ones. Then, finally, he bit his lower lip and shook his head.

  Arthur stroked his thumb along Rory’s jaw. “What do I look like?”

  “Happy,” Rory whispered, his voice breaking on the word.

  Arthur kissed him, sliding his hand to the back of Rory’s head and threading curls between his fingers. Rory’s hands found their way to his face as they kissed, and he went easily over onto his back when Arthur pushed him.

  “I missed you.” Rory’s voice was hoarse as he wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck. “I missed you so much, I scried your postcards every day.”

  Rory’s kisses were turning needier, making Arthur’s head spin. “And I know you’re gonna leave again,” he said against Arthur’s mouth, “’cause you’re saving the world. But you gotta know how much I miss you—”

  Come with me, Arthur opened his mouth to say. Come with me, no more goodbyes—

  “—and I’ll find another job, I will,” said Rory, as if he was still trying to convince himself. “But Ace, you being here for me—you don’t know how much that means.”

  He arched up to press their bodies together, and desire barreled through Arthur. He pressed Rory back down into the bed, their bodies aligning through the borrowed dressing gown that was suddenly far too thick a barrier.

  Rory arched up again for more friction, and pleasure sparked over Arthur. “I am here,” he said, kissing Rory’s neck. “Maybe one day that won’t surprise you anymore.”

  Rory shivered under him.

  The dressing gown’s fasteners had come loose, falling off his shoulder. Arthur slid his hand into the half-open robe that looked so much better on Rory and found nothing but warm skin.

  “Christ,” he whispered, his hand caressing Rory’s side, his hip, sliding across his stomach and feeling muscle flex and quiver. “You had nothing under this the entire time?”

  “Borrowed your robe but also your shower. And your coffee, and your phone, and your bed.” Rory was breathing hard as his head tipped back. “I’m about to borrow your dick, hope that’s copacetic.”

  Arthur half laughed in surprise. “Everything’s yours,” he said, a little more raw than he’d meant to. He covered the emotion with another kiss—and abruptly realized why it was so sweet.

  He pulled back. “Did you by chance borrow some chocolates this morning?”

  Rory went slightly pink, but he only blinked long lashes. “What chocolates?”

  Arthur narrowed his eyes. “The French chocolates from Montreal that were hidden in my trunk.”

  “Oh those,” Rory said innocently. “No, I didn’t borrow those, you said those were mine.”

  Arthur deliberately slid his hand lower, cupping Rory’s ass and drawing an eager shudder. “Those were supposed to be a surprise.”

  “I was supposed to be surprised when you told me about them in the cab last night?” Rory shifted closer, his cheeks darker and his eyes bright.

  “And I’m certain that trunk was locked.”

  “With a combination lock, Ace, you might as well have made a sign that said Teddy, help yourself.”

  “You absolute shit.” Arthur bent to lightly bite at Rory’s neck. “You do realize it’s not too late for a birthday spanking.”

  Rory took an audible breath as goose bumps broke out under Arthur’s teeth. “You offering?”

  “I’m threatening.”

  Rory squirmed helplessly against him, sending anticipation ricocheting through Arthur. “You might as well get used to me stealing your stuff,” Rory said, his bravado only a little shaky. “I don’t have a job anymore. You’re gonna have to give me everything now.”

  “Do you promise?” Arthur whispered, fitting himself between Rory’s legs and losing himself in his kiss.

  Chapter Seven

  It was one of the best weeks Arthur could recall having in Manhattan. They kept up the nephew facade for the doormen and it felt safe enough, because it wasn’t as if anyone actually related to Arthur would ever venture into his neighborhood—no matter how luxurious his building, his family remained appalled that he chose to live on the Upper West Side instead of Fifth Avenue.

  Rory still seemed a little shy, like he didn’t want to assume he was welcome forever. But he was there, in Arthur’s flat—and also in the Magnolia most nights, because as it turned out, a psychometric did make an excellent bootlegger, especially one who could fill in as a waiter when needed.

  Jade called on Saturday, asking them to come to the Dragon House for dinner. By the time he and Rory made it to Chinatown, Jade was already there, a
long with Sasha and Pavel.

  Zhang and Ling joined them, and instead of meeting in the library downstairs, they gathered in the private room, around the big circular table with the lazy Susan in the middle to spin platters of chicken chow mein, beef with vegetables, and roast duck around the table.

  Arthur surreptitiously pulled the steamer basket full of barbecue pork buns off the lazy Susan and set it next to his own plate. He glanced at Rory, who looked happy in an oddly quiet sort of way. “All right there?” he asked curiously.

  “I saw this room, last time I was here.” Rory shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “Just never thought I’d have people to sit with at a table like this.”

  Arthur’s own family would have filled three tables this size and he would have been dying to escape. He pushed the steamer basket toward Rory. “I can share.”

  “You’re supposed to share with the whole table,” Rory said, but helped himself to a bun.

  Next to Zhang, Jade cleared her throat. “Thanks, everyone, for getting together.” She looked over at Pavel and Sasha, who spoke for a moment in quiet Russian.

  Then Pavel leaned forward, the lodestone’s cord just visible beneath his collar. “I am willing to make a potion that may destroy the pomander.”

  Arthur’s eyes widened. “Pavel, you are not obligated—” he started, just as Rory said, “Pav, no, you’d have to take the lodestone off—”

  But Pavel interrupted them. “I care about the world too,” he said determinedly. “I heard the pomander enslaves non-magic minds, and I care about people without magic.” His gaze darted to Ling, so subtly Arthur almost missed it.

  “But what if you make a potion, and then the lodestone doesn’t work again when you put it back on?” Rory demanded.

  Pavel shrugged. “It is worth the risk.” He held up a hand when Arthur started to protest. “It was my idea. My decision. No one asked or forced me; Sasha and I want to help.”

  Arthur frowned, but what could he say? He didn’t want Pavel to face the risks, but Niagara Falls had done nothing to dampen the pomander’s magic. They had no solid leads. Baron Zeppler had already shown he was willing to kill to gain the magic of the relics for himself. If Zeppler pulled the pomander’s secrets from Rory’s mind, he’d have the power to enthrall an army of non-magic. He could start his own war.

  “It is possible Pavel’s potion will not work,” Sasha warned Jade, her tone very serious. “But Pavel is willing to give it the strongest chance.” She coughed, and added meaningfully, “Which would take the strongest magic.”

  The table turned to look at Rory.

  Arthur abruptly understood. “Blood magic? With Rory’s blood? No,” he said immediately. “No, there must be another way. Pavel doesn’t like alchemy done with blood, and what about the risk to Rory—”

  But Pavel was shaking his head. “I would not ask, if there was any other way.”

  “Most magic is in auras or our equivalent,” said Zhang. “But blood magic goes deeper, directly into the veins. There’s very little that’s stronger except possibly the relics.”

  “It’s okay, Ace.” Rory had gone a little paler, but his spine was straight. “I wanna help too.”

  “You already did,” said Arthur. “You scried the cursed thing so we know what it does—”

  “That’s right. I scried it, and I saw what it does.” Rory swallowed hard. “I’m willing to give anything to destroy it.”

  Arthur rubbed his forehead.

  Ling leaned toward Rory. “It’s more than just blood,” she said. “Blood magic is violation magic, but so is the pomander, and even a potion made with blood may not be strong enough to destroy it. If we really want to give the potion the best chance, we need your catalyst too.”

  Rory furrowed his brow. “Catalyst?”

  “The object that brought forth your magic,” said Zhang.

  Rory took a very sharp breath. “I—” He bit his lip. “I don’t have it,” he said helplessly. “It’s not mine, it’s—it was my—it belonged to someone else. A church.”

  And Arthur suddenly remembered the story Rory had once told him: his magic had been brought forward by an antique brass snuffer that Rory had picked up—from the altar at his father’s church.

  “Can you get it?” Sasha asked.

  Would it even still be there? Could Rory bear to go if it was? Christ. The fate of the non-magic world versus Pastor Westbrook.

  “I’ll go with him,” Arthur said, and all the heads swiveled his way. “The church is between Syracuse and Ithaca. We played Cornell more than once back in my university days. I know the area.” He met Rory’s eyes, hoping his own conveyed his message loud and clear: you are not alone anymore.

  Jade was watching the two of them. “I think that’s an excellent idea,” she said gently. She might not know the story, but she was sensitive enough to see that Rory was uncomfortable. “We’re happy to come too, if you want us.”

  “Nah.” Rory had put on a very brave face that didn’t quite cover a heart-wrenching mix of trepidation and gratitude. “If Ace is coming, I’ll be good.”

  “Then we’ll meet you in the mountains afterward,” said Zhang. “Because if we’re going to try to destroy that pomander again, better not to do it in the city.” He exchanged a look with Jade. “There’s one other thing. Could mean nothing, could be bad news.”

  Jade’s face was grim as she sat back in her chair. “An unknown buyer has bought the warehouse in Philadelphia where Rory was exposed to the pomander.”

  Arthur straightened. “I wasn’t aware it was for sale.”

  “It wasn’t,” said Jade. “We’re digging into it, but all we have so far is the deal was done through an American brokerage with a lot of contacts overseas.”

  Rory was frowning. “What good would that warehouse do anyone?”

  “I think someone might be trying very hard to figure out what happened in Philadelphia in February,” Jade said softly. “Someone very interested in that pomander.”

  “Or in Rory,” Arthur added tightly.

  * * *

  The Magnolia had plenty of staff on Saturdays, so Rory couldn’t put off going back to his house to pack for the short trip to the place he definitely wasn’t going to think about.

  “You don’t have to come,” Rory said, as Arthur stepped to the curb to flag a cab, even though his stomach was tied in knots and the last thing he wanted was to be alone.

  But Arthur only snorted. “I’m coming.”

  “We don’t know if any traces of the pomander’s magic could even be in that warehouse anymore.”

  “Didn’t you pick up the paranormal equivalent of scorch marks on a Manhattan sidewalk after the pomander briefly rested on it?”

  “Yeah, but that was right after, now it’s been two months,” Rory pointed out. “And we don’t know that the buyer is Baron Zeppler.”

  “It’s adorable you think I need hard evidence of danger to worry about you. It’s like you’ve never even met me.”

  Rory hesitated, then admitted, “Boarding house is even worse than the last time you saw it. Mice are basically tenants now.”

  “And if you’re expecting me to judge you for what you can afford, you certainly haven’t met me,” Arthur said tersely.

  “Nah, I didn’t mean it like that,” Rory said. “I’m just saying, you don’t gotta worry so much, okay? You don’t need to overprotect me, ’cause I’m not the innocent you think I am. And if we’re gonna knock heads with my dad”—and Jesus, Rory did not want to think about that—“you’re gonna see how I grew up, and you’re gonna see that I haven’t needed anyone else’s protection for a long time.”

  Arthur looked over at him just as the cab pulled to the curb. “No,” he said softly, “that’s not what I’m going to see.”

  The blocks rolled from Midtown to shabbier Hell’s Kitchen. Arthur drew cu
rious looks at the boarding house, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was looming closer to Rory than usual, no trace of a smile, and a well-dressed, brooding, six-foot-three former quarterback was imposing enough that no one gave them trouble, or even questions.

  Rory hadn’t been back to his room all week, and roaches scattered when he opened the door. He winced. “Sorry. I did warn you.”

  Arthur leaned on the door to close it behind him. “You did, but frankly I’m beginning to feel as if you see me as an innocent, some kind of sheltered Fifth Avenue prince who might faint at the sight of vermin.”

  Rory hesitated, then shrugged with a small, apologetic grin.

  “Ugh, that is how you see me. Get over here.” Arthur grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into his arms, drawing a surprised breath from Rory.

  But Arthur didn’t kiss him, just held him tightly with arms around his waist. “Someone bought the warehouse in Philadelphia. What if it is Zeppler?”

  “Then the faster we can destroy that pomander, the better,” said Rory. “That’s the whole reason we’re taking this trip.”

  “I suppose.” Arthur frowned. “Fair warning, I might take a swing at your father. Just to get that out there.”

  Rory snorted. “Sure, Ace,” he said, going up on his toes to kiss him. “Let’s hurry up and get back to your place, okay? ’Cause we wouldn’t fit on my bed and I’m not gonna let my Fifth Avenue prince touch my dirty sheets anyway.”

  “You think you’re cute.” Arthur reluctantly let Rory go.

  As Rory knelt by his trunk and opened the lid, Arthur sat on the edge of the bed without any distaste. “Is there anything you might like to keep at my place instead? A lot of things, even?”

  His tone seemed deceptively light. Rory glanced over his shoulder. “What, you want me to share the mice?”

  Arthur gave him a flat look. “I do know what money is,” he said. “And I am aware that your rent takes much of your savings. All I’m saying is perhaps you don’t have to spend that money if—well. If you’re already spending your nights somewhere else.”

  “But then I’d be jobless and homeless—” Rory cut the words off as he caught Arthur’s meaning. Not homeless.