She shrugged. “I did leave you one chance,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “If Zeppler takes your cuffs off, your magic might be powerful enough to wrest control of your ring back, even through the lead box.”
“No magic gets through lead,” he said flatly.
“That’s what everyone believes,” she said lightly. “But I’m the only paranormal in a century to see magic. Your magic overwhelms you because it’s powerful, Rory, and your link to Arthur lets you draw deeper than most. It might be stronger than Becker’s. Maybe it’s even strong enough to defeat lead.”
She tapped her temple. “Unless, of course, you think about that and Zeppler picks up on your thoughts. That is, I’m afraid, the entire problem with facing a telepath. I can tell you how you might have a chance to defeat him, but good luck keeping it secret.”
Rory narrowed his eyes.
She got back in the car, then, the front seat this time. Her driver started up the car, and Rory watched, choked by hopelessness, as the car made a U-turn and drove away, back toward Paris.
“Don’t look so glum,” said the Puppeteer, Becker, with a disturbing smile. “We’re going to see your sweetheart.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When Zeppler’s magic finally oozed away, Arthur didn’t fall to his knees or gasp. But only because his body was still locked up tight, a living coffin for his mind.
Zeppler was the one who stepped back, his eyebrows up. “You are full of surprises.”
Arthur’s lungs breathed in, breathed out. “What did you learn?”
“Oh, so very many things.” Zeppler tilted his head. “How fortunate I got them all out of you when you’re so close to death’s door.”
Christ.
“Imagine living or dying at the whim of your lover.” Zeppler shook his head pityingly. “Then again, Mr. Giovacchini is apparently a veritable hoard of useful information. A pomander relic that enslaves non-magic minds.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I could do a lot with that. I’ve always thought the world was too quick to sign those peace treaties; I far prefer when the mundane are slaughtering themselves. I could recreate the Colosseum, enjoy the fights. Maybe even rekindle the wars. So many options if I have an army of mindlessly devoted to expend.”
Arthur felt sick.
“And Mr. Giovacchini knows how to unlock it,” Zeppler added. “I’m so very interested in meeting him.”
Rage curled low in Arthur’s gut.
Zeppler only scoffed. “Quiet your thoughts. Everyone wants to kill me.” He paused, then scoffed again. “Yes, yes, you think you have good reasons. Lots of people think that; you’re not special.”
He paused again. “Oh, well, that is interesting,” he said, eyebrows back up. “You’re so soft, and yet from you, murder isn’t an idle threat. You’ve killed on the battlefield and you would, given the chance, easily kill both Mr. Becker and me in cold blood.”
He smiled without humor. “Good to know.”
Arthur’s eyes stared straight ahead as his mind raged uselessly.
Zeppler tilted his head. “Did you judge Gwen and Ellis too harshly? Now there’s an interesting question,” he said, smiling like he was pleased. “It’s true that I am, perhaps, not the easiest company. I do seem to change people. But I wouldn’t go giving them your sympathies just yet. You don’t know what they’ve done.”
Arthur’s stomach twisted just as the rumbling of an approaching engine could be heard down the drive. A few seconds later, headlights were visible as the Delage came around the bend and then pulled back onto the circular driveway.
Oh no.
The Delage stopped three yards from Arthur and Zeppler. Becker got out of the passenger seat as two men manhandled a cuffed Rory out of the back.
Arthur and Rory’s eyes met, and Rory looked as desperate as Arthur felt.
Zeppler grunted irritably. “You two are loud.”
“Arthur,” Rory started, “they sold us out—”
“I know.” Arthur could see Rory wincing, his cuffs almost certainly full of stinging lead, the man gripping his arm handling him too roughly. Arthur so desperately wanted to lash out, to get to Rory. But his body wouldn’t listen, would only stand still at Zeppler’s side, like a perfect minion.
Becker reached into his pocket and held out something small. His face contorted with pain and a hiss escaped him. “The Tempest Ring, sir, in a lead box. I haven’t opened it.”
