Starcrossed

by Allie Therin

  He had only a split second to hope his plan would work. “There’s no relic,” he made himself say, then made an aborted move toward his vest pocket, where Rory’s compass was still tucked. The compass enchanted with blood magic, made with his blood when it still had Rory’s magic. He had to hope it would be strong enough.

  Sebastian’s eyes followed his hand and widened. “Do you have his relic?”

  “No,” Arthur said, making it as much of a protest as he could. “No, of course not.”

  “You do. That’s why his magic isn’t working on you.”

  The joints in Arthur’s elbows didn’t want to support him. He collapsed a little closer to the floor, his limbs trembling as Sebastian leaned closer.

  “I need to know which relic it is,” he said, his hand going into Arthur’s vest pocket—

  As Sebastian’s fingers brushed the compass, he gave a shout like he’d touched a live wire and jerked his hand away.

  But the contact with blood magic, with Rory’s magic, had been enough to break his spell, and as the weakness vanished from Arthur’s limbs he snapped up fast as he could, snatching the Mauser out of Sebastian’s hands and turning it around on him.

  “No more of that magic, if you please.” It had been a long time since Arthur had held a gun, and never a Mauser, but his hand was steady as he kept it trained on Sebastian. He held the compass in his other hand, the brass cool against the wound Pavel had sliced into his palm. Rory’s magic was still in the compass, and he trusted it implicitly to keep protecting him from Sebastian’s magic, even without the link.

  He smiled flatly. “Your surrender, if you don’t mind?”

  With a very irritated look, Sebastian raised both his hands resignedly.

  “Thank you,” he said politely. “Now, where’s my antiques dealer? You might as well tell me; I’ll find him eventually.”

  Sebastian huffed but answered. “First-class promenade, at the stern, last time I checked.” He paused, and then said, “Hyde’s with him.”

  Arthur’s stomach turned over, but he kept his expression steady. “I expect he is. Is he a friend of yours? And fair warning, if you say yes, I might shoot.”

  “No.” Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “We’re flies in the same spider web, and you and Giovacchini should not have been caught too.” He glanced up at the ceiling, like he could see through the many levels of the ship to the promenade above. “You should take me with you.”

  Arthur scoffed. “You just tried to kill me.”

  “Of course I didn’t. If I had actually wanted to kill you, you’d be dead,” Sebastian said impatiently. “Hyde’s dangerous; you shouldn’t face him alone.”

  “I know.” In one swift move, Arthur cracked the butt end of the pistol against Sebastian’s head, sending the other man crumpling to the floor. “But I don’t think I have a choice.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  There was a second, smaller luggage room for the ship’s most valuable cargo, about the size of a small office. Magic or not, Sebastian would be out for some time; between boxing and his football arm, Arthur could deliver one hell of a blow. He locked Sebastian’s unconscious body in the office and then, Mauser in hand, he began searching for the way up.

  This was madness, going after Hyde alone. But he had Rory at his mercy, could be torturing Rory that second. Arthur couldn’t bear that thought, not when he could distract Hyde at least, give him a target that wasn’t Rory.

  Outside the baggage storage, he found a narrow flight of stairs up that led to the fourth-class bunks for single men. The smell of stale smoke clung to the walls of the windowless space. Some of the mattresses had a motionless man perched on the edge. A group of men were sitting cramped between bunks, playing cards spread on the floor in front of them as they stared blankly into space, like they’d gone into their trances in the middle of their game.

  The men didn’t notice him as he hurried across the room in his tuxedo. Arthur wasn’t sure where exactly he was headed other than up. The ship was enormous and despite his many transatlantic trips, he didn’t know the layout of this ship—or, he realized grimly, the layout of the steerage parts of any boat.

  There was another door at the end of the room, which led to a passage, and then he walked out into the freezing air of a small deck strewn with cigarette butts. It was deafeningly loud and smelled like oil and the fourth-class toilet, which must have been just below his feet. There was a small staircase at the end, roped off with a small sign that read Staff Only.

  He maneuvered over the sign to the first stair and began to climb, keeping his footfalls as soft as he could as his dress shoes slipped on wet metal stairs. He went up two more decks via staff stairs, emerging through an opening to the top level of the ship onto the first-class promenade. He’d never taken a voyage on this line, but this promenade had the same elegant seating and choice location as all the other ships he’d taken. It was a far more familiar sight than the fourth-class bunks.

  He climbed over the ropes surrounding the opening. The wind whipped across the ship, the sky black and full of stars as Arthur slowly moved forward through the shadows toward the stern, passing the library, the giant windows of the two-deck-high social hall and winter garden.

  But as he took another silent step outside the tearoom, a potent stench swept down the promenade, vilely sweet, like rotting flowers and rancid perfume.

  Arthur retched before he could stop himself, the smell overwhelming, a tangible decay that scorched his throat and turned his stomach inside out.

  The pomander was out of its box.

  He managed a single step forward before a huge figure materialized out of the dark, fist flying at Arthur too fast to dodge.

  The sucker punch hit Arthur in the stomach. He stumbled, crashing into a wooden deck chair as the air rushed out of him. He hit the deck, trying to suck air in through his nose and choking on the smell.

  “Lieutenant Kenzie.”

  Arthur’s eyes watered from wind and pain, but there was no mistaking the voice or the hulking figure from his nightmare, bigger than Arthur, chest too broad to be natural. His arms were folded, black gloves on his hands.

  But his face...

  “I thought you were a hallucination.” Arthur managed to say, staring in horror at the red eyes, the fangs behind his lips. “But you’re a real monster.”

  An ugly look warped Hyde’s face further and he snarled, the animal sound echoing around the harbor. Arthur raised the gun, but Hyde’s monstrous form was faster and stronger. He knocked the pistol loose with a swipe, and before Arthur could stand, he grabbed the back of his jacket and viciously flung him down the promenade.

  Arthur slammed into the rail, catching a quick glimpse of the black river ten yards down, and then Hyde came at him again. Arthur barely dodged a gloved fist as it came for his face, but as he drew a breath of poisoned air, he retched again, and the other fist caught his side, knocking him off balance again, toward the opening in the railing.

  Arthur tumbled down the short flight of stairs that led down to C deck and second class, hitting the bottom hard enough to draw a grunt of pain. The stench was making him dizzy, but as he swallowed his rising gorge he saw Rory, only feet away. He was crumpled in a ball between two lifeboats, his body perfectly still, glasses crooked and his open eyes staring, unblinking, out toward the stern of the ship. The pomander was on a chain, fastened to Rory’s suspender. He wore no coat and no tie, the collar of his ragged shirt hanging open so Arthur could see his neck was encircled by a ring of black.

  Shelley’s choker?

  Just as Arthur started to push himself up, a thud vibrated the surface under him as Hyde’s boots hit the deck, then a giant foot came down hard in the center of Arthur’s back.

  “Nice of you to join me again, Lieutenant.”

  Arthur fought a wince as Hyde jerked his arms up behind his back, cuffs snappi
ng around Arthur’s wrists. “What have you done to Rory?” he said evenly, his voice raspy but betraying none of the worry choking his throat. Christ, without their link, how was Rory going to find his way back?

  “Made him easier to transport.”

  “To London? Why?”

  “A peace offering to my former mates.” Hyde yanked Arthur up to his knees, jerking him around so they faced each other. “But you. You don’t have magic. You don’t have information. This time, there’s no reason to keep you alive.”

  Arthur refused to give him the satisfaction of a flinch. But as he stared at Hyde’s red eyes, his fangs, he realized the trembling he felt wasn’t his own body. “The ship is moving,” he whispered.

  “I don’t care,” said Hyde.

  “You should.” Arthur could feel the faint sway of the giant boat cutting through the small waves of the Delaware River. The lights of Philadelphia were passing slowly on the starboard side. “The crew is bespelled. How could we—”

  “I. Don’t. Care.” Hyde’s growl echoed off the deck. “Why have you come so far for this particular paranormal? Why aren’t you under his spell? Is he special?” His eyes flashed. “Special to you?”

  Arthur pressed his lips together and didn’t answer.

  Hyde bit the tip of the finger of one of his gloves and pulled it off with a short jerk. “You remember these, don’t you?”

  Arthur’s heart thundered in his chest as Hyde held up his hand, the razor-sharp tips of his claws flashing in the light. “When I last saw you, I could still switch as I wished between my forms. But now I can no longer retract these, thanks to Baron Zeppler and the Venom Dagger. Thanks to you.”

  “You aligned yourself with a scorpion,” Arthur said harshly. “Don’t cry to me because you got stung.”

  “You should have talked!” Hyde’s growl thundered across the ship. He dropped Arthur, his face smacking the wet deck as Hyde whirled around so he knelt next to Rory, then flung out his arm so his claws nearly touched Rory’s unmoving face.

  Arthur’s heart leapt up into his throat.

  Hyde moved his claws even closer, an inch from Rory’s cheek. “Think pain can bring him back from wherever he’s gone?”

  “Don’t—” Arthur lurched forward, trying to stand.

  But Hyde had moved paranormally quick, knocking Arthur back to the ground with a swipe that shredded his tuxedo and sliced a ribbon across his ribs. Arthur twisted just enough to land on his shoulder instead of his face, pushing up to his knees just as Hyde’s hand closed around his throat.

  “I have dreamed of a chance for revenge on you.”

  The tips of Hyde’s claws pricked at Arthur’s skin, points of pain on his neck to match the sting of the scratch on his side. Beyond Hyde Arthur could see Rory, sprawled still and helpless on the deck.

  “Rory.” Arthur had reached Rory when he was lost like this once before, on the floor of the Magnolia. A relic packed a much stronger punch than a Brandy Alexander, but Arthur’s feelings were stronger now too. “Teddy. Come back.”

  “Shut up.” Hyde pulled Arthur closer by the neck. “This ship takes seven days to cross the Atlantic. Seven days before you need to die, and I will make you suffer every minute.”

  Beyond Hyde, on the deck, Rory’s fingers twitched.

  Hyde’s breath was hot on Arthur’s face. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

  “You need a new routine,” Arthur bit out. “I’ve seen this song and dance before.”

  Hyde’s fangs flashed as he growled, and his fingers tightened until black spots danced at the edges of Arthur’s vision. He fought for consciousness, forcing his eyes open, because once he passed out, whatever he woke to would be worse than this, and what would Rory do then?

  He tried to raise his voice for Rory. “Come back. Please.”

  But Hyde’s grip was too tight and Arthur’s eyes were shutting themselves. He tried to focus on Rory out on the deck. Had his fingers twitched again? Or was Arthur imagining what he wished was true?

  Hyde pulled Arthur in. “Are you sorry you chased your paranormal into the darkness yet?”

  Arthur gritted his teeth and forced his eyes open, not on Hyde, on Rory. “Per favore, Teddy. For me.”

  Hyde scoffed. He opened his mouth—

  Something burst across the deck, an invisible wave, as powerful as the wind but with an electric edge like a storm of tiny lightning bolts. Hyde’s inhuman roar echoed off the ship, off the riverbanks, and then Hyde’s hand was falling away from Arthur’s neck as he fell to the deck—

  The lightning bolts sank into Arthur’s skin, and he gasped as they settled into his bones and blood like they were coming home.

  He looked up.

  Hyde had collapsed at Rory’s feet. Rory’s shoulders were heaving, and the fury on his face as he glared at Hyde’s unmoving body made him look about ten feet tall and every inch the dangerous paranormal he was.

  Then his gaze landed on Arthur.

  “Hi,” Arthur whispered.

  And as quickly as he’d appeared, the dangerous paranormal vanished, Rory crumpling as he fell to his knees and wrapped both arms in a choke hold around Arthur’s neck. Arthur tried to put his arms around Rory only to jerk against the handcuffs. He cursed and pressed his face into Rory’s hair instead.

  “Are you all right?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Are you?” Rory was trembling all over, clutching Arthur so tightly it was almost painful. “I couldn’t get out of that pomander and then—I heard your voice. And I heard that monster say he was gonna hurt you—”

  “I’m okay.” Arthur pulled back just enough to see him. Rory was worryingly pale, his face drawn like he hadn’t slept for days. Three yards away Hyde’s body remained still, his chest moving but his eyes as blank as Rory’s had been, as the entire ship’s staff was. What had Rory managed to do?

  Arthur turned his head, enough to brush his lips over Rory’s temple. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he said, trying to make it sound strong, ignoring his own bleeding neck, aching arms, and bruised body, ignoring the wretched smell of the pomander and that they were trapped on a ship with an inexplicably unconscious Hyde and a bespelled crew.

  Rory made a soft noise that said he wasn’t buying it, and turned his head enough to look over Arthur’s shoulder, out past the railing and the side of the boat. “Ace,” he said slowly, “are we...moving?”

  “Yes.” The familiar London accent came from another set of stairs, the ones coming up from D deck, as a figure stepped up onto the deck. “But I’m the one to blame.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Gwen came toward them, Ellis right behind her on the stairs, while three armed mobsters thundered up the other set of stairs. Ellis wore his same navy coat and hunting cap, while Gwen’s long curls danced in the wind. Their mobsters had cloths tied over their noses and mouths. They’d clearly been warned about the relic, which still dangled from Rory’s suspender, filling the air with its rot.

  Gwen’s eyes—no longer yellow, but the hazel-brown Arthur remembered—were glued to the pomander. “Heaven help us,” she whispered, putting her hand over her heart, over the familiar piece of jewelry dangling around her neck.

  The Argonaut Amulet relic.

  “You.” Rory shifted closer to Arthur, weak but unmistakably protective. “You’re the ones that stole the amulet from the Zhangs!”

  “No,” Gwen said patiently, as her henchman aimed their guns at Rory and Arthur. “I’m the one who reclaimed my amulet from all the magic traps the Zhangs set around it.”

  Ellis held up the Venom Dagger. “And I’m the one who cut it free for her,” he said, in his Southern drawl. “Nice to see you again, Ace.”

  “Shut up,” said Arthur.

  “Still with the infant, huh?”

  “I heard that,” Rory grumbled.

  “You cou
ld say thanks. There was lots of nice stuff at your friend’s place. Sure was decent of us not to help ourselves to anything else as interest.” He pointed toward Arthur with the dagger. “Two of you on the big fella, the other takes the kid. Either of them moves, shoot the big one. Try not to breathe in that stench.”

  “Don’t—” Rory started.

  “It’s all right,” Arthur said through clenched teeth, as he was seized by each arm. “I think I recognize you from Coney Island,” he said, to one of the henchmen. “You went back for more of those two? This river mixes with the ocean tides. She’s controlling it all, moving the entire ship.”

  The man just shifted his gun uncomfortably close to Arthur’s head. “I’ve had worse bosses.”

  “The hell are you doing?” Rory demanded from Gwen, as the third mobster grabbed him. “Why would you take us out of port?”

  “I’ll translate that, shall I?” Gwen pointed at the pomander. “Thank you, Gwen, for taking this abomination away from American soil.”

  Of course. She could see the relic’s magic. Arthur tensed. “If you’re so keen on being helpful,” he said bitingly, “why not come up and help take care of Hyde?”

  “We were trying,” she said. “We’ve been looking for Zeppler’s paranormals. I was following the pomander’s magic that Hyde kept broadcasting, but he kept sticking it back in its box. Then we finally get aboard this ocean liner and find you’ve charged in like a fool. Really, Arthur, if you’d waited five bloody minutes you wouldn’t have had to face Hyde alone.”

  “Rory might not have had five more minutes,” Arthur said. “And if we’re all friends here, why not have your friends let us go?”

  She just raised an eyebrow. “So you can take a swing at my husband like you did at Sebastian? I’m fairly certain you’re going to pop Ellis in the face first chance you get, and I’d rather he was still standing, thank you.”

  Arthur gritted his teeth. “What did you do with Sebastian?”

  “Put him somewhere more comfortable, of course,” she said. “He saved my life once. I like him.”