“I’m certain of it,” Arthur said tightly, stomach churning with anger. Magic. On hisbrother.
Jade looked very troubled. She stretched up on her heels, and Arthur bent at the waist so she could whisper in his ear. “Jianwei’s on the plane, following Mansfield’s lawyer, Edgar Barnes. Let’s you and me go somewhere more private.” She pointed at the bar. “Drink?”
Arthur nodded fervently and followed her to the bar top.
“Can you do him up a sidecar?” she said to Mack. “With the brandy from Ottawa?”
The bartender nodded and pulled a silver cocktail shaker from under the bar, disappearing to the other side of the bar and leaving them to be their own island in the club. “You’re stunning as always,” Arthur said, a topic that they could actually discuss at a crowded bar. “What does Zhang think of the trousers? Not to imply that I think you should dress for him, mind. I’m just curious how parochial his views.”
“He thinks they’re foxy.” She sounded like she still couldn’t quite believe it. “A surprising number of men in America do, even Rory.”
“Oh?” Arthur’s expression stayed perfectly still. “And how do you know that Rory likes women in trousers?”
“He’s not exactly subtle.” She side-eyed him, looking like she was biting back a smile. “Nor are you, apparently. Since when are your eyes green?”
Arthur scoffed, with what was possibly overcompensation. “You know I’ve never bothered with jealousy. But I am happy to hear that Zhang’s an improvement over that Parisian who wanted you in skirts.”
Now she did smile. “Jianwei is certainly the highlight of America.”
A couple of minutes later, drinks in hand—or at least, drink in Arthur’s hand—they wove their way through the tables and to the back. Behind the stage was a hallway that took them to Benson’s office, a small interior room next to Stella’s dressing room. There was a desk pushed up against the wall covered with neat stacks of receipts, and it smelled of cigars and paper. For the moment, it was even a comfortable volume, the crowd in the club muted to a distant murmur underscored by a casual walking bass line from the band. Arthur highly doubted it would stay quiet once Stella was on the stage, but for now the office was cozy and private.
There was only one chair, over by the desk. Arthur left it for Jade as he carried his drink over to the wall and leaned against it. She took the seat, kicking off her heels and pulling her feet under her. “What’s made you think John is a victim of magic?”
Arthur blew out a breath. “Because he’s dreaming of me in the war.”
She furrowed her eyebrows. “Could it not just be a coincidence, a flight of fancy?”
“It’s not.” Arthur took a drink, tasting sour lemon and fiery brandy through the fine sugar on the rim. “He’s seeing me as a prisoner at the German camp, down to the black eye and the English book they gave me.”
Her eyes widened.
“I’ve never told anyone about the book, not even you. How on earth could he possibly be seeing it in his dreams?” He took another, bigger sip, wanting the burn. “The cell isn’t even what I dream of myself. The guards gave me drugs, and the things I thought I saw—if I had known magic existed, I would have thought—well.” He repressed a shudder. “Point is, being in the cell was not the worst part and it’s not the part I dream of. How is he seeing it?”
Jade frowned. “I’m not familiar with any kind of magic like this. I only know of the dream-readers.”
“And that’s subordinate magic,” said Arthur. “Yes, they can see the dreams of those who have no magic, but those paranormals can only receive. They can’tmakesomeone else have a dream any more than Rory can make someone else see the past.” He blew out a breath. “And why target an alderman?”
“Did you get a chance to search John’s office? In a world where Pavel can make the potions he does, we can’t rule out a spell bag or cursed object.”
“I looked best I could. I was only alone those moments on the phone. But the dodgiest thing I found was the stack of his children’s drawings that he secretly keeps in his bottom drawer. Who knew he was sentimental?”
Jade coughed. “Must run in the family.”
Arthur gave her a dirty look. “I know you don’t meanme.”
“You bought an importedcaffettieraso you could learn to make Rory’s Italian coffee for him.”
“Which I will drink too. An act of complete selfishness.”
“Complete.” Jade’s teasing gaze softened. “We’ll figure this out.”
Arthur stared into his sidecar and nodded. “There is one other complication.” He cleared his throat. “John’s got a chance to do a favor for the governor’s son.”
“Which will get John deeper in the governor’s good books, right before he gears up to start his new campaign. Ah, politics,” Jade said dryly. “What’s the favor?”
“The governor’s son is getting middle-aisled on Saturday and has a last-second guest who needs an escort. British peer, former military. My mother’s already pledged my attendance and John’s asked me to take the guest. I could say no, but...”
“...but it will help your brother and he’s probably cursed, and none of us would ask you to abandon him,” Jade finished. “We understand, Ace. We’ll work around it.”
