Wesley opened his eyes to find himself alone. The sun was slanting in through the open window, the pale yellow of early morning. Sebastian must have gone to check on his brother. Or perhaps to get Wesley breakfast, wouldn’t that be nice, although hopefully the man wasn’t foolish enough to go anywhere alone right now.
The Irish girl, Molly, was going into the kitchen as Wesley passed by, an empty glass in hand. “Welcome to Wonderland, your lordship.”
He snorted, because that was very much how it all felt. “Are you magic too, Miss...?”
“Finnegan. And no, I’m not.” She tilted her head. “But if I’ve got to live in a world where I know that some people have magic when I don’t, I’m glad I’m with the de Leons.”
Wesley could certainly appreciate that. He moved out of her way, and then carried on into the dining room, where Sebastian’s cousin, Isabel, was standing by the dining table and frowning at a piece of paper in her hand.
“Good morning,” he said, making his voice as polite as he could, partly because she was Sebastian’s cousin and he wanted to make a good impression, but also partly because she was Sebastian’s cousin and even Wesley wasn’t going to purposefully be rude to anyone in a family that was chock-full of magic.
He awkwardly sat on the edge of the chaise. What was the point of such a decadent piece of furniture? Was he supposed to lounge about like a tart?
Could he get Sebastian to lounge about like a tart?
That was a thought that would wait for another time. “Is something the matter?”
“Sebastian,” Isabel said flatly. “He’s gone to the concierge to get our train tickets. Alone.”
“You’re joking,” Wesley said. “Why would he do something so foolish when we’re on the run?”
“This building is protected from magical discovery,” said Isabel. “Our family added guardian magic three generations ago. No paranormal should be able to find us, and Sebishouldbe safe if he stayed in the building.”
“I’m never that lucky,” said Wesley. “When did he leave?”
“I hoped you might know. Did you hear him this morning?”
“No. The man can move as quietly as those cats he dotes on.” Under normal circumstances, there would be absolutely no cause for alarm if a twenty-seven-year-old man wasn’t immediately where everyone had expected him to be. But as Wesley had observed all the way back in London, nothing in his life had been normal since the moment he’d heard Sebastian’s name.
Isabel held out the note, and Wesley took it, giving it a quick read. “It says he’s just going downstairs. How long could that possibly take?”
Mateo’s bleary voice came from the settee. “He’s in danger.”
Wesley exchanged a glance with Isabel, and then they both crossed over to the settee. Mateo was lying on his stomach, head down, but his half-lidded eyes had a spark of awareness, like he’d had on the train.
Wesley crouched down next to him. “You’re referring to your vision of Sebastian’s future.”
Isabel had crouched too, her hand covering Mateo’s. “Teo, that shouldn’t be possible. You should not be able to see Sebastian’s future.”
“I know,” Mateo said. “But I did.”
“The younger Mr. de Leon here was apparently pumped full of some nonmagical victim’s aura by Blanshard,” Wesley said. “Could that have made him able to see past the tattoo?”
Isabel’s frown deepened. “I don’t think so. My magic works like whirlpools to trap other magic, and the stronger the magic, the more deeply it’s stuck. If anything, it should have made it harder for Mateo to see Sebi’s future.” She squeezed Mateo’s hand. “Teo, can you tell us exactly what you saw?”
Mateo closed his eyes. A moment passed, and then he spoke in a dreamy voice that sent chills down Wesley’s spine. “Surrounded by flames. There are so many voices around him, revelry outside the windows, among the banners, the gardens, the statues, beneath the white clock that stretches up toward the clouds. People in danger, but he can’t escape. The heat burns.”
Wesley swallowed.
Isabel had paled. “There is a tall white clock at the tourism pavilion by the Grand Palais.”
Wesley’s heart began to pound. “You mean the vision happenshere, in Paris, at the fair? And we’ve lost track of Sebastian?”
Isabel leapt to her feet. “I will ask Molly to stay with Mateo,” she said. “I’m going downstairs to find him.”
“I’m coming too.”
Downstairs, the lobby was ominously empty. Behind the concierge desk, a door was open, a short hall just visible. Wesley took a step toward it, and Isabel promptly stepped in front of him. “You don’t have magic, Lord Fine.”
