The magic rushed Rory like the Tempest Ring’s once had, weeks earlier in the antiques shop. But the pomander’s magic was thick, like being swept under a wave of rancid oil. And as his stomach turned and his skin crawled and the smell of rotten flowers hit his nose, Rory’s magic rose up within him like an answering wind—
—and his link to Arthur snapped.
Shock and terror and relief shot through Rory as the crater of loss abruptly opened in his chest. Suddenly anchorless, he was falling too fast with nothing to pull him back from history’s edge.
But at least there was no path for magic to travel to Arthur.
“Enjoy the Inquisition,” he heard Hyde say, from a distance.
And then the present was gone.
The deeper Arthur came into Philadelphia from the north, the more the compass needle pointed south. He drove as fast as he dared through crowded Philadelphia streets, seeing the steamships come into view as he neared the river. It was as he had feared, then. Hyde was trying to move Rory by sea.
And they could be on any of the ships; Hyde hardly needed a first-class ocean liner when he was probably willing to stuff Rory in a cargo crate.
The compass was pointing south now as Arthur turned to follow the river’s path. Great plumes of black smoke floated from multistory stacks, making the air thick and acrid. He crossed a set of railroad tracks and passed pavement with small clusters of people.
But as he neared the water, Arthur suddenly saw spots. For an instant, he thought he smelled rotten flowers, thought he was going to faint—
And then he gasped as his chest burned like someone had reached inside him and pulled an organ out. He swerved, crossing into the other lane of traffic. People screamed and honks split the air as Arthur hit the brakes so hard they screeched. He fumbled to right the steering wheel but overcorrected, sending the car skidding toward the curb, and there was a stomach-turning bump and then a sickening crunch as his car ran up on the sidewalk and smashed into a lamppost.
People were pointing and staring at his car as he took heaving breaths. “I don’t understand,” he said out loud. “Why—what—”
He looked at the passenger seat, where the compass had fallen when he swerved. He snatched it up with one shaking hand.
“Oh no.”
The needle wasn’t pointing south anymore. It wasn’t pointing anywhere, just spinning in lazy, useless circles.
And Arthur abruptly understood.
It had lost Rory—because their link was gone.
The pool of blood spreads across the marble. A man with pale skin and dark hair, dressed in a puffed tunic with a white high collar, delicately steps around the blood as he walks toward the balcony. From deeper in the castle, voices are raised, some in devoted chants, some in screams.
“—I saidclose the box.”
Rory’s eyelashes fluttered. The world sounded strange, like he was lying in the bath but his ears were still underwater. He could see Hyde and Sebastian, their faces too close, their voices too loud. Arguing.
“You’re leaving the relic exposed too long.” Sebastian’s voice was sharp. “What if you destroy his mind? What if you send him to the past for good—?”
“Who cares?” Hyde made a low growl. “I want answers and he hasn’t given them.”
Hyde and Sebastian faded from view.The pomander hangs from the man’s belt. Its scent floats through the castle, so strong, the musk thick, the flowers already rotted.
“You’re so soft for the subordinate paranormals.” Hyde’s face cut through the castle again, his lip curled in scorn. “Gwen, Shelley, now this one. Do you feel sorry for them, is that it? Or do they remind you of your cousin?”
Sebastian had gone paler. “Subordinate magic is useful, that’s all,” he said, although it wasn’t convincing. “Giovacchini isveryuseful, so if you want me to come to London with you, put the relic back in its box before you shred his mind.”
“You’ll come to London with me no matter what I do.” Hyde’s voice was low and menacing. “Because you’re desperate to know if your cousin has kept any of her sanity without your magic to help her.”
Sebastian swallowed. “I can find my own transatlantic ship.”
“But you’ll never find the London paranormals on your own,” Hyde said softly. “With your magic, you won’t be welcome. You never are.” He leaned closer. “But go ahead and leave the boy alone with me. I want the company; the trip takes a week and boredom is such torture.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened.
“That’s what I thought.” Hyde let out a scoff, like a wolf’s huff. “It’s time to board the ship.”
