Wonderstruck

by Allie Therin

  “Crawling with magic, perhaps, but someone else doesn’t want to look at the paintings either,” Jade pointed out.

  “It’s like being stuck in a whirlpool,” said Rory, just as the red curtain on the back of the gallery wall was pushed to the side.

  “You made it,” said Gwen.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gwen hadn’t changed in the three months since Arthur had last seen her in Philadelphia, same pretty face and ringlet curls under a headscarf. Her eyes, Arthur was relieved to see, were still hazel, not the yellow they’d gone when she’d been lost to magic.

  Her gaze landed on Arthur, and her eyes widened. For a second, he could have sworn she looked distraught.

  And that was new.

  He opened his mouth, but Jade spoke first. “Was the goose chase really necessary?” she said, folding her arms.

  “It was, I’m sorry. I was counting on Arthur’s non-magic eyes.” Gwen actually sounded like she meant the apology. “The paintings are all by Isabel de Leon. She’s quite the paranormal talent.”

  “I’ve seen her work,” Rory said flatly. “In Manhattan, at Luther Mansfield’s mansion. I got stuck in her painting of dancers because of you.”

  “If I could remind you that you were actually breaking and entering at the time—never mind.” Gwen glanced back at Jade. “You look lovely, Jade. It’s really good to see you.”

  “You saw me three months ago,” Jade said dryly. “Your husband chained me to the Wonder Wheel next to Arthur.”

  “Oh. Of course. To be fair, I couldn’t really see you then, just all your sparkly telekinesis.” Gwen’s words were met with an awkward silence. She cleared her throat. “Right. Well. Our history aside, here you are, because despite wanting nothing to do with me, you need me.”

  “We didn’t bring the pomander,” Rory said brusquely. “So you’re not gonna bind it to anyone.”

  “You haven’t found a way to destroy it, though, have you.” Gwen didn’t make it a question. “You’re just walking around with its secrets still in your head, ripe for the picking by the unscrupulous. Meanwhile, the rest of the world should just hope you don’t decide to want its power for yourself.”

  Arthur made a noise of objection as Rory’s eyes widened. “I would never—”

  “It’s simply an observation,” said Gwen. “You’re a dangerous man. I didn’t say you’re a bad one.”

  “You’re a dangerous woman,” Arthur said dryly. “And we don’t know if you’re bad or not.”

  Gwen just smiled. “We’re all united in at least one thing: none of us want Baron Zeppler to get his hands on the pomander—or Rory.” She gestured to the red velvet curtain at the back of the room. “So come join us, and let’s figure out how to stop that from happening.”

  * * *

  Rory followed Gwen behind the curtain into a windowless second room, just as small, with pocket doors at the far end. Most of the space was taken by a large, pink-and-white-striped chaise that had seen better days and two fluffy pink pillows on the floor. The walls were papered, like the room had once been a fancy apartment, with covered paintings on the walls just like the gallery. Everywhere Rory looked he saw books: stacked on the furniture, on an end table, on the floor.

  “This is not what I was expecting,” he admitted.

  “Did you assume I’d have found some kind of, I don’t know, lair?” Gwen sounded amused. “You’re reading too many pulp magazines.” As Rory’s curious gaze strayed back to the walls, she added, “I would strongly recommend you don’t pull the covers off the paintings.”

  Rory quickly averted his eyes from the walls. “Why would you put up paintings that mess with magic?” he demanded.

  “And why do they even work on Rory?” said Arthur. “Most other magic doesn’t.”

  “That’s what makes Isabel’s talent so remarkable,” said Gwen. “Her paintings work like whirlpools, pulling magic in and confusing it. The stronger the magic, the more deeply it gets lost.”

  “So she’s got magic that works on magic,” Rory muttered. “And a cousin whose magic does too. Interesting.”

  Zhang had gone straight to the closest stack of books, picking up the top book with obvious delight. “Is this a copy of Santos’s work in the original Spanish?”

  Gwen nodded. “I would learn Spanish just to read that book. She had aura-sight, like me.”

  “I know,” Zhang said absently, already opening the pages with care.

  Jade sat on the chaise, making a pretty picture as she crossed her legs in her fancy men’s suit. “What are you looking for in all these books?”

  “About ten different things,” said Gwen. “I’ve been trying to tell you, you’re not the only ones who want Zeppler out of the picture.”

  “Yes,” Arthur said dryly. “But we want it to happen without drowning Brooklyn in the process.”

  There was a scraping sound as the pocket door slid open, revealing a glimpse of a closet-size second room as Ellis appeared in the doorway. He was dressed down, no tie and no hat over his brown hair. “Maybe your urchin should’ve told Gwen she was starting a tidal wave,” he drawled.

  “You are not going to put this on Rory,” Arthur said, starting forward in the cramped space.

  Sebastian appeared just behind Ellis, about the same height and build with brown hair and olive skin. He wore a vest and tie but no jacket or hat, and his light brown eyes were guarded.

  Rory really hadn’t needed to learn that Arthur thought he was handsome.

  Sebastian leaned on the doorframe, expression inscrutable. “If Lieutenant Kenzie is looking for a target, I’m also right here,” he said, with his soft accent.

  “Oh, how lovely, it’s you.”

  Arthur pointed at Sebastian as he turned to Gwen. “Why is he here?”

  “He saved Gwen’s life once,” said Ellis.

  “And now the three of us are on Baron Zeppler’s wanted list, just like Rory,” Gwen said. “Sebastian’s cousin Isabel has gone to Barcelona. I’m sure he’d rather be in Spain with her, but he’s stayed here to keep Zeppler’s attention away from Isabel, and to protect us.”

  “And who’s protecting us from him?” Arthur said flatly.

  Gwen gave him a sardonic look. “You realize that around Sebastian is the safest place Rory can be? Sebastian has some of Isabel’s art tied to his magic through his tattoo. You already know how tricky it is to find him.”

  “I’m sure Rory’s very safe,” said Arthur, with exaggerated politeness. “Right up until the kidnapping starts again. You all seem to be under the impression that I’m going to forget that happened, but I’m afraid I am very much going to remember.” He pointed to the three of them. “Goes for all of you.”

  “Who’s kidnapping anyone right now?” said Gwen.

  “You expect us to buy this protection story?” Rory snapped. “When it’s real convenient he’s here with his weird magic that can stop Jade and Zhang’s magic?”

  Sebastian held up his hands in mock surrender. “All paranormals hate my magic.”

  Arthur smiled thinly. “I’m not particularly fond of it either.”

  Jade cut in. “Do you think Zeppler’s looking for you?” she said to Gwen.

  “Let’s talk about Zeppler,” said Gwen, which wasn’t a yes or a no.

  Arthur gestured at Sebastian. “We have one of his henchmen right here, in the flat, and why am I the only one who seems to see what a terrible idea that is? Are the rest of you lot drunk?”

  Sebastian shot Gwen an uncertain glance.

  “You might as well tell them,” she said to him. “They want the same thing you do.”

  “And what is it we want?” Jade said coolly.

  “The siphon,” said Ellis.

  The room quieted. Rory’s skin broke out in prickles, and he sat on the end of the chaise.

 
Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, looking troubled. “All seven relics owe their existence to an enchanted siphon. It’s the only way I know of to make a relic, or hide one.”

  “Is it what it sounds like?” Jade leaned forward intently. “It siphons magic from one source—say, a paranormal—and into another?”

  “Yes.” Sebastian glanced at Arthur. “Do you remember when we were on the ship, Lieutenant Kenzie?”

  “I’m not likely to ever forget it,” Arthur said dryly.

  Sebastian acknowledged that with a tilt of his head. “On the ship, I told you the question you should be asking was not what I know about relics, but why you know about them. The siphon that created the relics was keeping them hidden.”

  Zhang had put his book aside and taken the seat next to Jade. “So where is this siphon?”

  “Stolen.” Sebastian clenched his jaw. “From my father’s family in Spain, before the war. And it’s still missing.”

  “Baron Zeppler?” Arthur guessed.

  But Sebastian shook his head. “Zeppler was not involved until three years ago. He offered a trade to my family: he would help us find the siphon and the thief, but in exchange, one of us had to put our magic into his service.”

  “And you actually agreed?” Arthur said incredulously.

  “What choice did we have?” said Sebastian. “Without the siphon, the relics were already coming out of hiding, putting innocents in danger. We’d had no success on our own. Zeppler is a telepath; he told my father exactly the lies and reassurances he wanted to hear.”

  Zhang looked puzzled. “I’ve never heard of a siphon relic.”

  “It’s not a relic itself,” said Sebastian. “At its heart is more of the same magnetite as the lodestone, amplified with gold and magic, tied to forces of nature. If we find it, the relics can be put away. Think of how much damage they’ve already done.”

  Rory glanced at Gwen. She wasn’t wearing her relic amulet. Was she planning to give that up? What about Ellis’s dagger relic, or Rory’s own ring, heavy in its lead box in his pocket? He very carefully didn’t touch it. “How do you know all this?”

  “We all have our legacies,” Sebastian muttered.

  “Stolen before the war,” Jade mused. “It could be anywhere in the world.”

  “Except,” said Gwen, “there’s a world’s fair that’s begun in Paris—and there’s a broker there, taking bids from all around the world for a paranormal object of priceless value. Based on the descriptions of the object, Sebastian thinks it’s the siphon.”

  Jade raised an eyebrow. “How did you find that out?”

  “Remember a bigot by the name of Luther Mansfield?” Ellis’s hand floated to the hilt of the dagger on his belt. “Threatened my wife with American laws and would’ve given her magic back to Zeppler with the amulet relic after she told him its power?”

  “We didn’t leave Mansfield’s house empty-handed,” said Gwen. “And he had a very useful little black book of contacts and upcoming auctions.”

  “There’s a snag, though,” said Jade. “There must be, or you would have already found your way to Paris to get this siphon.”

  Gwen sighed. “The seller is an English aristocrat and he won’t move forward without a buyer’s name. We need a real name, someone who might believably have an unconscionable sum of money to spend on a paranormal object.”

  “Oh,” Arthur said, in realization. “Like an American congressman’s fool of a son, who thinks he can handle the paranormal world and is ripe for getting taken to the cleaners.”

  “No,” Rory said, standing back up. “No, you’re not getting Ace mixed up in this—”

  “We’re on the same side now,” Gwen said softly. “Sebastian wants the de Leons’ siphon back. You lot want the pomander out of action.”

  Jade raised an eyebrow. “And what do you and Ellis want?”

  “Vengeance,” Ellis said, without remorse. “On the baron who tried to tear Gwen and me apart.” He pointed at Rory. “And before you judge me for that, remember what this kid did to the man who laid hands on Arthur.”

  Over by the pocket door, Sebastian’s brow furrowed. He looked between Rory and Arthur.

  Rory glared at Ellis. Their secrets weren’t his to tell. “I was real out of it on that boat, didn’t know the sky from the river.”

  “And speaking of that boat,” Arthur said, with narrowed eyes. “Before I make any decisions about what I may or may not be willing to do, I want a chat with Mr. de Leon.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Arthur wanted to talk to Sebastian somewhere without Gwen and Ellis, but Jade and Zhang wanted to stay in the art gallery’s back room with the books. Arthur hesitated, not eager to leave them alone, but Gwen and Ellis hadn’t done anything alarming quite yet and Jade didn’t seem in the slightest bit worried.

  Rory joined them, however, shooting dirty looks at Sebastian and following Arthur a touch closer than a friend probably would have.

  Behind the back room’s pocket doors was the second, even smaller room that might have once been a closet but was empty save for two broken wooden chairs. A narrow door opened to a claustrophobic alley full of boarded-up windows. It smelled of piss and warm beer spilled on pavement, but it did at least keep Rory away from the paranormal paintings in the decoy gallery.

  Arthur had to step around three empty bowls right outside the door. “Who’s feeding strays?”

  “Are we talking or aren’t we?” Sebastian said.

  “Talking,” said Arthur. “Over drinks, where we’re at least going to pretend we aren’t about to kill each other.”

  The grimy pub was at the street at the end of the alley. “Don’t look at the flyers in the window,” Arthur heard Sebastian mutter to Rory, as they walked into a small, wood-floored space that was nice and dark, and best of all, not in America under Prohibition.

  They ordered at the bar, a whiskey neat for Arthur and tonic waters for the paranormals, and brought the drinks to a corner booth with benches and a table carved from wood.

  Arthur and Sebastian both stepped toward the same bench, the one against the wall, where a man could watch the rest of the pub without his own back exposed. They stopped short just before they collided. Arthur narrowed his eyes, and Sebastian grudgingly stepped back, gesturing for Arthur to take it.

  Arthur waited for Rory to slide in first. He slid down to the window, glaring daggers at Sebastian. “You owe Ace a hell of an apology for using your magic on him in Philly.”

  “Lieutenant Kenzie could have just answered my questions.” Sebastian set his drink down. “But I don’t like magic used on the non-magical, especially mine,” he said, more quietly. “I am sorry for that.”

  Arthur rolled his eyes. “You might as well call me Arthur; you’ve had your enervation magic in my aura, no need to be coy now,” he said, and Rory’s glare somehow intensified. “How’s your friend, Mr. Hyde? Still on holiday in the Spanish Inquisition?”

  “He was never a friend,” Sebastian said. “And yes, he’s still bound with psychometry.”

  Arthur took a sip, letting the whiskey burn down his throat. “Your magic literally weakens other magic. Why not just use your fancy tricks to break it?”

  “Assuming I wanted to break Rory’s hold on him,” Sebastian said, looking like the idea was anathema, “I can’t. Rory’s magic has been augmented with one of the relics.”

  “Yeah, it has,” Rory said hostilely. “So you just keep your magic to yourself, ’cause it’s not gonna work on Ace again anyway.”

  Sebastian glanced between them. “My magic doesn’t work on you. Why wouldn’t it work on Arthur?”

  “No reason.” Arthur quickly tossed back the rest of his drink. “I seem to need another whiskey, look at that.”

  Sebastian stood. “I’ll get it.”

  Rory’s eyes narrowed. “You’re buying Ace’s d
rinks now?”

  Arthur elbowed Rory, offering Sebastian his own society smile. “That would be appreciated.”

  As soon as Sebastian was on his way to the bar and out of earshot, Rory muttered, “Smooth bastard.”

  “Theodore.”

  “He put his magic in your aura, Ace—he might as well’ve stuck his hand down your pants.”

  Arthur covered his face with his palm.

  “Well, it’s true.” Rory sounded sulky but unrepentant. “And I already know you think he’s handsome.”

  Arthur rubbed his temple. At the bar, the pretty girl had stopped making drinks and was leaning across the counter to talk animatedly to Sebastian. He was smiling back, perfectly comfortable with her attention.

  Arthur tried to keep his tone soft for Rory. “Sebastian is not attracted to me.”

  “Everyone’s attracted to you,” Rory said stubbornly.

  “He’s chatting up the barmaid as we speak.”

  “So?” Rory said impatiently. “You can like dolls and fellas, Ace.”

  Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand,” he said patiently. “I’m sure it’s normal to feel jealousy over...another paranormal...using their magic on your lover—actually, no, Teddy, I take it back, I don’t think there’s anything normal about this conversation at all.”

  Rory folded his arms and slouched back into the booth. “You never understand.”

  “I’ve told you before, I’m simply not the jealous type,” Arthur said, possibly a little patronizingly. A lot patronizingly. “And even if I was, it’s worth noting that I wouldn’t be out in a pub failing to hide it.”

  Rory pursed his lips, making a very sour face.

  “Will you sort yourself out?” Arthur said, as nicely as he could. “We don’t know whether we can trust Sebastian at all. We certainly don’t need to trust him with us.”

  “Fine,” Rory snapped, deeply grouchy, as Sebastian approached the table again.

  He set Arthur’s drink in front of him. “Molly gave you the top-shelf scotch this time.”