He did. But Arthur had been no help to his friends for days, and now things had become personal. The specter of his near-nightmare teased at his mind, sharp teeth, red eyes, the cracking of bone as the man’s countenance warped—
Verypersonal.
Arthur shook his head to clear it. “His ship isn’t expected until this afternoon. I have time. Rory is going to his shop, but I’ll drive the three of us out to Brooklyn before I get him.”
“Get who?” said Rory, coming into the room.
“Is that Rory?” said Jade, thankfully before Arthur had to answer. “Put him on, will you?”
Arthur held out the phone. Rory furrowed his brow but took it. “Hello?” He went almost immediately pink. “Aw geez, I’m so sorry, I—” He went quiet, then said, “You can’t let me off the hook, itismy fault, I shouldn’t’ve—”
He paused again. “Yeah, I know magic’s a pain in the ass, but I—well—I guess.” His shoulders relaxed. “Thanks, Jade,” he said, soft and heartfelt. “But tell your brother and pretty sister I said sorry too, all right?”
Arthur twitched. He shoved the sudden emotion away.You’ve never been jealous a day in your life.There is no need to start now.
Rory handed Arthur back the phone. “Coffee’s in the kitchen,” he said, as he clutched the lapels of Arthur’s dressing gown and went up on his toes. “Wish I didn’t have to go; you look so good in this thing.”
Arthur’s heart did one of its flips. “Did you say you made—”
The words were cut off as Rory dropped a quick kiss on his lips.“Ciao, bello.”
Arthur stared after him as Rory disappeared across the parlor. “Get cab fare from the box on the foyer table,” he finally remembered to call.
“I don’t need your money!”
The front door closed with a decided slam. Arthur sighed, exasperated and infatuated in equal parts.
“Coffee andciao bello?” Jade repeated in his ear. “There’s something I don’t remember Lord Fine ever saying, even in English.”
Arthur touched his lips.Wish I didn’t have to go.Arthur wished the same. “Not Wesley’s style, no.”
“I like Rory’s style better.” She hesitated. “Were you planning to introduce them?”
“No,” Arthur said immediately. “No, no, I don’t think that would go well at all.” He frowned. “I haven’t really found a way to introduce Rory to anything,” he admitted. “I had the thought that maybe I’d get to spoil him a bit, introduce him to the fun side of New York, but at the moment I’m just grateful we stole any hours together at all.”
“There’s been rather a lot keeping us all busy,” Jade said, with both wry humor and sympathy.
“Perhaps,” he said dubiously, “but I’ve made his lifeharder.” Rory couldn’t even visit without having to pass himself off as someone else, lest anyone look too closely and make trouble for Arthur’s family. “And he brushes off any attempt I make to ease things for him. He doesn’t plan to let me help him get out of that tenement he lives in. He won’t let me buy him a coat. He won’t even let me give him cab fare.”
“He’s from an immigrant family. Zhang is the same way; he’ll give you the shirt off his back without blinking but good luck getting him to accept something for himself,” she said, with the same blend of exasperation and infatuation he’d felt himself a moment ago. “Rory has had to rely on himself and his work for years. Even now, his magic is what keeps Brodigan’s Appraisals afloat.”
And Rory had worked for his dad’s church before that, and his mother’s restaurant before that. Arthur’s chest hurt, thinking of Rory working as a child when he should have been playing tag and stickball with his friends. Arthur had probably been riding horses or lounging on the family yacht while Rory had been bussing tables and washing dishes so his family could eat. “All the more reason I wish he would lean on me now.”
“He linked his magic to you,” she pointed out. “Take it from another paranormal, you can’t lean any harder than that,” which made Arthur smile.
“And speaking of Rory’s dangerous magic that we don’t understand,” she added dryly, “bring the ring with you to Coney Island, won’t you? We can give it to the Zhangs.”
Chapter Seventeen
The morning was icy cold, Rory’s breaths frozen puffs in front of him the whole walk to the antiques shop. Lizbeth Meyers was coming down the stairs into the building’s lobby as Rory walked in, an envelope clutched in her small hand. She waved when she saw him and he waved back.
“Whatcha got there, Lizzy?”
“I wrote a letter back to Victoria!” She headed toward the row of metal mailboxes. “Did you know she’s never been to Hell’s Kitchen?” She stood on her toes and pushed the envelope into the outgoing mail slot. “I told her all about it and my secret to winning jacks.”
“You got a secret?”
“It’s why I always beat you.” Lizbeth glanced up from under her thick brown bangs. “My mom says Mrs. B’s got a friend too. Afella.”
