Arthur groaned. “Ofcoursehe is.” He took another sharp turn past a row of multistory redbrick homes with big bay windows, and then three more quick turns after that, weaving through streets as fast as he dared. “How did he set a trap? The telegram was fake?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rory make a quick nod. “Mrs. B’s original wedding was announced in the paper. If someone knew about the shop, they coulda figured I would come if they sent a fake telegram. Which means I missed Mrs. B’s real wedding.” He sounded angrier about that than he did about nearly being kidnapped by one of Zeppler’s henchmen, and Rory, angry in a suit, was more attractive than Arthur probably should find him.
“How do you know he’s a paranormal?”
“It was pretty obvious when he lit himself on fire.”
Arthur’s fingers went painfully tight on the steering wheel. “Fire? Did he have a French accent?” It couldn’t possibly be—
“No, English. But he mentioned your French friend, the one Zeppler made Ellis kill. Philippe.”
Arthur took a breath. “The buyer of the Philadelphia warehouse had Philippe’s last name.”
Rory’s head snapped toward him. “You didn’t tell me that.”
Oops.Arthur stumbled to explain. “I—well—it’s a common enough name—and you were getting ready for Mrs. Brodigan’s wedding—”
Rory groaned, deep and loud and so frustrated it made Arthur wince. “Jesus Christ, Ace.”
Oh boy. The Lord’s name in English, that couldn’t be good. “I wasgoingto tell you. I just didn’t want to worry you too soon?” he said weakly.
“I was pretty damn worried when a man on fire showed up to haul me off to Zeppler!”
Arthur winced again. “That’s fair, yes.”
“You gotta tell me stuff!” Rory snapped. “Because when you don’t, we get things like—this,” he said, gesturing wildly, presumably at everything, so that the ring on his finger caught the light.
“You’re, um...” Oh, Arthur should probably keep his mouth shut, but here he went. “...you’ve got the wind fully under control, yes?”
It didn’t matter that Arthur’s eyes were on the road—he could feel the filthy look Rory had just directed his way.
“I’m sorry,” said Arthur, “it’s just that we’re still in the middle of Boston—”
“I’m not gonna flatten the city!”
“I’m just saying that if you are going to use the ring, perhaps you could aim the wind toward, say, Fenway Park—”
Rory opened his mouth—and then paused, pursing his lips.
“Just a thought,” Arthur added helpfully.
Rory sighed loudly. “What else haven’t you told me? And don’t try me,” he warned, when Arthur opened his mouth. “Spill it all, and I meanallof it, Ace, because I’m not some delicate porcelain figurine you keep on a shelf somewhere safe, I’m supposed to be your partner. Start talking and don’t stop. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Arthur muttered, but he could admit he deserved that. He took a breath. “Jade thinks we should go to London.”
“London? As in, the London where your ex, Lord Asshole, lives?”
“No,” said Arthur, drawing it out. “The London where Gwen, Ellis, and the tattooed man who knows about relics went.”
“Oh,” said Rory. “Yeah, okay, that’s better.”
“Is it?” Arthur said pointedly.
“I mean, I’d rather deal with them than your ex. Aside from the trying to kidnap and kill us part, of course.”
“Tryingto kidnap? Whattry? We’ve both been successfully kidnapped by that lot, full stop.” They had driven into a more urban area now, shops and markets, pedestrians everywhere. “Am I the only one considering that perhaps we want to think twice before we pop into their lair for a spot of tea?”
Rory scrunched his nose. “I feel like Gwen’s too pretty to have alair.”
