A moment later, the bolt had been cut, and Gwen carefully inched open the door. She frowned and pointed to the carpet. “See that?”
Rory craned his head. The penthouse’s marble floor seemed to glitter under the lights, a layer of sparkling dust from wall to wall stretching into the apartment with no path around it.
“That’s an enchanted dust,” she said. “A nasty poison designed to trap any intruders in hallucinations.”
The lead ring box was heavy in Rory’s pocket. He hesitated, then said, “Dust can be blown away.”
Gwen glanced at him appraisingly. “You think you can do that?”
“I think we’re gonna have to let him try,” Ellis muttered, sounding unenthusiastic.
Rory popped open the box and slipped the ring on his finger. He eyed the glittering dust that covered the floor in front of them.
Just a breeze. Light and easy. Like blowing out your birthday candle.
He closed his eyes and reached for his magic.
The wind came from behind him, soft against his cheek as it blew past into the penthouse.
Keep it soft—shit.
The wind leapt from his control like a boisterous kitten out of his hands. Glass shattered, something crashed, and then something heavy hit the floor.
He winced and cracked one eye.
Gwen was looking down the hallway into the room beyond, her expression speculative. “Two broken vases, an overturned plant, and a toppled chair.” She glanced at him. “But the dust has been cleared from our path.”
Rory sighed.
“Buck up, kid,” said Ellis. “We can call this a victory.”
They hurried down the hallway into the penthouse. The first room was a parlor, with velvet chairs and gold-framed art on the wall. Gwen was looking all around, her pupils dilated again.
She pointed down a hall. “The master bedroom. That’s where the most magic is concentrated.”
In the bedroom, she led the way to a wardrobe. “A locked wardrobe hiding something huge that blocks my aura-sight.” Her lips quirked in a half smile. “Who wants to bet it’s a safe?”
Rory folded his arms. “Good thing I’m here, then.”
Ellis still had his dagger in hand. He stepped up to the wardrobe and slid the blade between the doors to cut the lock. He opened the doors to reveal a three-foot-high safe.
Rory crouched in front of it and put his hand on the dial. He closed his eyes, and reached back in history.
A moment later, he had the lock undone, the code cracked as easy as the safes and trunks he got into at Arthur’s place.
He opened the safe door, and Gwen inhaled sharply.
Inside the safe was a clock, older than any antique Rory had ever seen. It was maybe two feet tall, built of delicate filigreed gold with spires at the top like a castle. The round clock face had at least three dials of different sizes and that many hands, with circles of roman numerals, zodiac signs, and more symbols Rory didn’t recognize. Rory couldn’t see the magic like Gwen did, but he could feel it against his skin, nothing like the scorching pomander that left his throat dry, but a magnet, like the lodestone, pulling at the magic in his blood.
“Oh wow,” he breathed.
“The siphon,” Gwen said softly. “It’s beautiful.”
She carefully pulled it from the safe with a soft grunt as Ellis swiped a sham off one of the pillows on the bed. Gwen wrapped the siphon clock in the case and held it securely to her chest.
“We’d best get moving.”
My plans were changed.
