Page 92 of Once a Rogue
Jade blinked. “You have Rory’s ring?”
“Yes,” said Wesley. “And Arthur has Brodigan’s magic in his aura. Ace, can you not tell if he’s here somewhere?”
“No, Wesley, it’s not a leash,” Arthur said testily. “Look, give me the ring and I’ll show you I’m useless with it.”
Wesley handed over the box.
Arthur opened it. Emotion flickered on his face as he lifted the jeweled ring out.
Nothing was happening. “At least put it on,” Wesley said.
“It truly doesn’t work for me, Wes.” Arthur tucked the lead box away in his pocket and slid the ring onto his right pinkie. “There. See? Nothing—”
The ring went flying off Arthur’s finger.
It shot up into the sky, a tiny flash of gold that caught the house lights.
And then it was gone.
The four of them stared up at the sky, at the stars beyond.
“What the fuck just happened?” said Wesley.
Jade’s gaze was still on the sky. “The ring is full of the magic of the wind. And it’s always responded to Rory’s stronger emotions.”
“He once set it rattling around in our library, despite being across Manhattan at Arthur’s place,” said Zhang.
“So that means Brodiganishere?” Wesley said.
In the distance, glass shattered.
Arthur’s eyes had gone wide. “I think it means,” he said, in a voice that was equal parts hope and trepidation, “that we better evacuate the house.”
Alasdair was humming to himself as he carefully set the pomander on the makeshift pedestal made of stacked boxes, as if there wasn’t a body crumpled in an unmoving ball a couple feet away. Langford was leaning against the wall, gun in hand, a discomforting presence with the gas mask still in place. The smell in the claustrophobic, enclosed attic was getting worse.
“You know, we have a murder right here,” said Alasdair, “and neither of you two can even stand.” He opened his jacket to show off the brooch pinned to his lapel. “If you could just find your feet, you could steal this from me in the next couple of minutes, and then my plan would be foiled. I’d have to settle for enslaving all the non-magic minds instead of binding all the paranormals to me.”
Across the room, Langford cocked his gun.
“I don’t think he likes that idea,” Alasdair said to Sebastian and Rory.
“Listen, buddy,” Rory said, hoarse and tense. “You can’t be king of two relics, understand? That’s too much magic. I would know.”
Alasdair tutted. “You really ought to be a little more ambitious. We picked you out of your merry little band of misfits to sacrifice tonight because you have the most magic, the most powerful blood. Think of what you could do with it—well. If you were going to live through the night,” he finished apologetically. “I’m afraid neither of you will.”
“You said you weren’t planning to kill us,” Sebastian said.
“No, I saidIwasn’t planning to kill you,” Alasdair said patiently. “I do plan to take control of you, though. That might kill you, and if it doesn’t, Major Langford will. He’s dying to shoot all of us.”
He looked back at Rory. “I wonder if the magic you put in Arthur Kenzie’s aura will live on in him after your death. Do you think I’ll be able to control him too?”
“If you’ve hurt Arthur,” Rory said lowly, “I’m gonna make you regret it.”
“We haven’t hurt Arthur,” Alasdair said impatiently. “It’s the paranormals we want to hurt. And speaking of pain.”
He crouched down again, and Sebastian saw the glint of metal in his hand. “We’ve got a nice fresh murder, and now I’m just going to help myself to a bit of your cursed blood,” he said brightly. “Can’t unlock the pomander without it. Then, of course, it’s going to take many painful deaths, but one step at a time.”
“You can’t—” Rory stopped mid-sentence, his eyes going very wide.
