by Allie Therin
He set the mug down and got to work.
* * *
Edgar Barnes wasn’t at his law firm and he didn’t answer his home phone.
Arthur left a message with Edgar’s secretary and then drove to Harlem to pick up Jade and Zhang for the trip to Coney Island. He idled in the alley outside the Magnolia and started to exit the car, but Zhang was already getting the front passenger door for her.
As Zhang shut the door and went for the back seat, Arthur coughed. “Look at me, being such a gentleman and not commenting on how I’m picking you two up at the same place.”
Jade rolled her eyes, but with a smile. “Did Rory wear your clothes again this morning while he was making your coffee?”
“Touché.” It would have been nice to have Rory along that morning. Would he ever want to chase relics with them?
Arthur pushed the thought away. There were a lot of reasons not to look too closely at the future, not least of all that Rory was content working for Mrs. Brodigan in New York. Content making his own living and not taking a cent from anyone else, even though Arthur had nothing but money to offer.
He shoved that thought away too.
He took Park Avenue south, the long drive down Manhattan’s east side passing as Jade and Zhang puzzled over the disturbance in the astral plane. It wasn’t a conversation he really understood, so he mostly stayed out of it, his mind turning over his own night and what it might mean.
As he finally turned onto the Brooklyn Bridge, he asked, “Is magic ever contagious?”
“The more I learn about magic, the more I realize how little I know,” said Zhang. “Which means I’ve never heard of it being contagious, but I wouldn’t rule anything out.”
The wharves and broad expanse of the East River passed beneath the bridge, Brooklyn up ahead. Jade was eying him with open concern. “Why do you ask?”
Arthur sighed. He didn’t want anyone to worry about him, but he owed it to John to explore every possible lead. “I had the dream last night.”
Jade sucked in a breath.
Zhang leaned forward, between the front seats. “A nightmare, I take it?”
“Ace was a prisoner during the war,” said Jade.
“Briefly,” Arthur hastily cut in, as in the rearview mirror Zhang’s expression had gone to instant pity Arthur didn’t deserve. “Many soldiers endured far worse. I was rescued after only days. By Ellis, of all people.”
“But you still have dreams?”
Scars aren’t just on the body. Arthur swallowed and nodded once, any words he might have said sticking in his throat.
Jade spoke up quietly, sparing Arthur from having to say it. “He had critical information about American battle plans. He was questioned. He wouldn’t talk. They gave him a hallucinogen and sent their worst interrogator in.” She glanced at Arthur with shared sympathy. “He still wouldn’t talk.”
“I haven’t had the dream in months.” Arthur’s hands were clenched too tight on the steering wheel. “Seems a bit coincidental that I had it just as John has the worst nightmares of his life. Except—”
He hesitated.
Jade touched his shoulder with quiet support. Christ, it broke his heart that she understood this so well. She had her own nightmares from the war. Hell, Zhang had been in Europe for it all, he may well have too.
Arthur made himself talk. “If the dream starts, I usually have to relive the entire experience. But this time, I didn’t have the whole dream. The hallucination began, but then—I woke up.”
Zhang was eying him intently. “Was anything unusual about the wake-up?”
Arthur could still feel Rory’s soft skin against his, the murmured endearments in his ears. He’d leave that part out. “I felt like I’d passed through a lightning storm. Then I went right back to sleep, no more dreams.”
Zhang nodded once. “It was Rory.”
Arthur nearly swerved the car. “What?”
“The magic plaguing your brother John will have infected his aura like Spanish flu. However you were exposed, it would do the same to you.”
“But Ace already has magic in his aura,” Jade said, in understanding.
“Stronger magic,” said Zhang. “Rory’s magic drove the other magic out of your aura.”
You can sleep, I got you.
Goose bumps broke out over Arthur’s skin. “But he didn’t remember anything.”
“He wouldn’t need to,” said Jade. “His magic protects you subconsciously.”
“His magic is that strong?”
“He sees history,” said Zhang. “If magic is music, most of us are controlling one instrument. Subordinate paranormals like Rory and Gwen are trying to conduct orchestras. Most paranormals couldn’t have made a link like you share in the first place, and Rory has a relic now. If there’s a battle of magics, put your money on him.”
Arthur absently touched his chest, over his heart. Rory’s magic literally guarded his aura. That was one hell of a romantic gesture.
“I wish I could find that Miss Shelley woman,” Zhang said, sounding frustrated. “I want to figure out if she’s responsible for these dreams and how, if her necklace you described is the lodestone and if that has anything to do with it. I don’t like being in the dark.”
Jade frowned.
Zhang gently touched her shoulder. “What are you thinking?”
She glanced back at Zhang. “It’s a bit unsettling that you can’t find a paranormal now, isn’t it, when we didn’t find Baron Zeppler’s paranormals on board that ship?”
Arthur looked at Jade sharply. “You think Miss Shelley could possibly be working with Zeppler? But her accent was American.”
“Right good thing no one can fake one of those,” Jade said dryly, mimicking a London accent without missing a beat.
Arthur gave her a dirty look. “You sound exactly like Gwen.”
“I wish Gwen was here,” Zhang said unexpectedly. “Maybe she could see why I can’t find Shelley or what happened at Coney Island.” He sighed longingly. “What a treasure trove of knowledge she must be. I’ve never met anyone else who can see magic. I’d die for a chance to sit down with her.”
Arthur shared a side-eye with Jade. “Do you want to be the one who points out he almost did or should I?”
“She was your friend,” Zhang insisted. “You said she used to be lovely and Rory said the amulet relic got her aura-sight under control. She might be her old self again.”
“Having a relic didn’t do Ellis any favors,” said Arthur.
“But you don’t know what else Baron Zeppler put him through,” said Zhang. “We’re all on the same side against Zeppler.”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend? Was my friend?” Arthur said dryly. “Either way, surely she and Ellis snuck back to England by now?”
“If they did, they went without any of us noticing.” Zhang pursed his lips. “We thought Baron Zeppler had sent three of his operatives to America. Maybe they thought that too.”
“In which case, they might not have tried to leave,” Jade agreed. “She might be looking for them to get information.”
“And you think we should what, ask to join their party?” said Arthur. “That they’ll invite us to catch up over tea, where we all have a laugh and pretend they didn’t throw me in chains and torture me for information?”
Jade rubbed the back of her neck. “I mean, you and I made up.”
Arthur huffed. “You apologized.”
Zhang glanced between them. “I’m suddenly very aware that I don’t know how the two of you met.”
“War, strange bedfellows,” said Arthur.
“You know how it is,” Jade added.
“I’m sure,” Zhang said skeptically. “All I’m just saying is let’s not write Gwen and Ellis off.”
Jade sighed, but she was smiling. “Admit it:
their love story makes you soft because you’re a hopeless romantic.”
Zhang rested his chin on the edge of her seat. “You would know.”
Arthur made a face. “Christ, get a room.”
* * *
They were on Stillwell Avenue, barely half a mile from the water, when Zhang suddenly said, “Stop the car.”
Arthur slammed the breaks without hesitation. Up ahead, the Wonder Wheel and the wooden skeleton of the Thunderbolt roller coaster rose up into the sky.
He turned to the back seat. Zhang’s eyes were closed and he looked for all the world like he was napping. Arthur turned back to Jade. “What’s going on? We’re not quite to the harbor yet.”
“Jianwei went scouting ahead on the astral plane.” Jade’s usual smile was gone. “I don’t know what he saw.”
Arthur frowned but waited quietly, eying the Wonder Wheel. It was a lot nicer to look at from a distance rather than chained to the base.
Zhang suddenly spoke again. “Someone was here this morning.”
Arthur whirled around. In the back seat, the other man’s eyes were open. “How do you know?”
“Footprints in the sand, down on the beach where Rory and Gwen made the wave. Not the kind of footprints a woman like Miss Shelley would have made. These are big ones.” Zhang looked at Jade. “Weird ones.”
Arthur parked right by the closed, empty Luna Park. The three of them hurried out of the car and over to the boardwalk, the sea wind whipping at their coats as their rapid footsteps echoed on the wood. The shops and ice cream parlor were boarded shut, the roofs of the booths still torn with their bright fabric in tatters and blowing in this wind. The air was salty and cold, not another soul in sight as they took the stairs from the boardwalk down to the beach.
“There.”
Arthur froze. Leading away from the stairs in the sand were heavy, misshapen indents—footprints, but not from normal shoes.
Zhang pointed. “That’s a bigger footprint than you would make if you walked in the sand now, Ace, and you’re, what, six-four?”
Arthur couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Six-three,” he managed to say, his gaze locked on front most part of the footprint.
“What’s wrong with the edge here?” Jade pointed to exactly where Arthur’s eyes were glued. “This doesn’t look like the outline of a shoe, or even the toes of a human foot.”
Zhang tilted his head. “It looks like claws.”
Arthur took a sharp breath.
“Ace?” Jade took his arm. “You’ve gone extra pale.”
“Have I?” he said numbly.
She stepped up the staircase, so their faces were nearly level. Her deep brown eyes searched his. “Are you all right? This is a terrible thing to see so soon after your nightmare.”
Arthur forced a smile. “I’m fine.” Zhang was watching with concern, so Arthur tried to explain. “The dream I sometimes have is of my interrogation. My German captors must have slipped me something before I was questioned, because I hallucinated a monster.”
The scars on his chest seemed to throb for a moment. He ignored the phantom pain. “I saw my interrogator shift in front of my eyes, into a half man, half beast. Red eyes, jaw distended by fangs, claws sharp as a—” His voice almost broke. He forced it steady. “Sharp as a scalpel.”
Zhang glanced back at the footprints.
“But it was nonsense then, and it’s nonsense now,” Arthur said firmly. “Drugs then, an echo of last night’s dream now. It caught me by surprise, that’s all.”
But Zhang was still staring at the footprints. “How certain are you that he was a hallucination?”
Arthur stilled. The beach noises roared in his ears, the waves, the wind, the cry of a gull. “Why would he be anything else?”
A gust of wind swept across the beach, almost a howl. Zhang held his hat against it. “Your interrogator, was he also German? Or was he British?”
Arthur stared. His heart started to quicken. “How did you know something like that?”
“A rumor I heard, during the war,” Zhang said, “about a paranormal British defector who’d sided with the Germans. I don’t know that man’s real name; I only ever heard him called Mr. Hyde.”
Ice crawled over Arthur’s skin. “Why?” he said hoarsely.
Zhang hesitated, then said, “Because they believed he could change his form to that of a monster.”
Arthur’s pulse was now loud enough to drown out the wind. “You think my interrogator could have been a paranormal?” He pointed at the footprint in the sand. “You think—”
His throat closed and he couldn’t speak. He could still recite entire passages from The Curious Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the only thing he’d had to distract himself those days in that cell. He’d assumed the battered book was all the guards had had in English, but if it had been the twisted joke of a sadistic paranormal captor—
“None of us know what to think.” Jade’s jaw had grown tight. “Maybe it’s too much to connect a footprint with a dream. But then, is anything ever too much where magic is concerned?”
Arthur ran a hand over his face as his emotions continued their tailspin. “But even if this is, somehow, all the same man, how could he come to New York and Zhang not see him?”
“I don’t know.” Zhang was shaking his head. “But I didn’t see these footprints made, and they appeared right where there was a disturbance on the plane last night, in a place where Rory used more magic than any of us have ever seen one person use.”
Rory. Arthur forced his panic away as a new kind of worry seized him. “If there’s even a chance these were made by the man—beast—the one who—” He bit it off. “I should search the city. I’ll think of some excuse for John and the governor—”
“—who won’t forgive you, because they don’t know about magic,” Jade gently interrupted. “We came back to America to protect innocents and that includes your family, Ace. Your brother is likely already cursed; we’re not going sabotage his Senate run too.”
Arthur winced. “But whatever left these footprints, I don’t want it within one hundred miles of Rory.”
“Rory can come to the teahouse,” said Zhang. “He can stay with us as long as he needs.”
Arthur gave him a grateful look. “I’ll pay for Rory’s lunch.”
Zhang waved it off. “My mother’s been wanting to meet him. It would give her a chance to talk to Rory about his magic and his ring.”
Arthur touched his pocket, where he’d brought along both of the magic totems from his home for the Zhangs to examine, the Italian compass that had helped him find Rory across the Hudson River, along with the ring that had put him there. “Rory’s just so vulnerable,” he said quietly, the mess of his emotions making his anxieties spill out. One almost-nightmare, one uncertain footprint, and he wanted to go straight from this beach to the antiques shop and then keep driving, take Rory somewhere safe. “His psychometry offers no protection and he can’t wear the ring without risking a tempest. There’s no security at his boardinghouse; I at least have decent locks on my apartment, but if I don’t meet Wesley’s ship this afternoon, and John or the governor find out—”
“You can do what your family needs.” Jade’s voice was gentle. She exchanged a look with Zhang, one of those silent communications between lovers. “I don’t think Rory’s any kind of target,” she said, looking back at Arthur. “You’re the one who’s thrown by a footprint like this. And it’s your brother with nightmares, dreaming of you.”
“I can take care of myself,” Arthur said.
“We’re not saying you can’t,” Jade said placatingly. “Just asking you to be careful as well.”
“I’ll be fine,” Arthur promised, as he held out the ring and the compass both to Zhang. “I’ll rejoin you too as soon as I’ve dropped Wesley off.”
As Zhang took and pocketed Ro
ry’s items, Jade tilted her head. “Are you certain it will be that easy to get away? Lord Fine is a guest of the governor; won’t John expect you to entertain him tonight?”
“Normally yes, but when Wesley discovers I’m the one supposed to shepherd him about town, he won’t be able to send me away fast enough. He’s going to want as little to do with me as I want with him.”
“If you say so,” Jade said lightly.
Chapter Eighteen
Zhang had seemed pretty serious when he showed up in the antiques shop, asking Rory to head to the Dragon House and wait for him and Jade. Rory’d been wanting to see Zhang’s restaurant anyway, so with Mrs. Brodigan’s blessing he caught the train down to Canal Street, then followed the directions Zhang had given to Chinatown.
Mott Street was full of multistory buildings with fire escapes in front and shops on the ground, colorful hanging banners and people chattering in Chinese. One shop had stuff to see on the sidewalk, tea sets on shelves and a rack of patterned smoking jackets, and he passed more than one bakery with golden bread in the window.
He turned down a narrow street and found the Dragon House halfway down, tucked beneath a red awning in a redbrick building with a black fire escape. It had a white banner painted with red Chinese characters, and even the sidewalk outside smelled good.
It looked closed at the moment, too early for dinner, too late for lunch. Rory hesitantly raised his hand to knock, but the door opened before he did, revealing a pretty Chinese girl about his age. Her long black hair was swept back in a bun, and she was dressed in black and white, reminding him of his own restaurant days.
“Rory?”
He hunched, very aware of his bare head and rumpled curls. “Yeah.”
She smiled and held the door wider. “I’m Ling. Come in.”
It was beautiful inside, the ceiling beams painted glossy black, red silk hangings on the wall, gold accents on small statues and vases. It was empty at the moment, but the tables had white tablecloths and were set for dinner.
