But this might be his only chance to help Pavel, and alone was exactly what he needed to be. He carefully knelt on the thick ice and reached into his pocket. The lead stung like hell, but with a wince, he pulled out the ring box and quickly set it on the ice in front of him. He shook out his hand with a curse, eyes on the box, jet-black against the ice.
He closed his eyes and reached inside for the link to Arthur. This far away, he couldn’t place Arthur’s exact location, but the link was there, like a trail that led out of the woods, or looking on the horizon and seeing the lighthouse in the distance.
He’d be okay. With the link, he could find his way back from any vision.
Without letting himself think any further, he gritted his teeth against the needles on his fingers and opened the box with a quick jerk.
The ring glinted in the gray light, a gold band inlaid with a white stone and other jewels probably worth more than Rory’s whole block in Hell’s Kitchen. But that crushing sensation he’d felt the first time he’d opened the box was absent. It just looked like a ring.
And now, somehow, it was his ring.
Taking a breath, he picked up the ring in his hand. He held it in his fingers, but he was fine. No visions, no sudden scrying. He was in control. With a surprised, happy huff, he slid it onto his fourth finger on his left hand. Was it magic that it fit perfectly?
Rory got to his feet, the knees of his trousers damp from the ice. He held his hands in front of him. With his eyes on the glint of gold on that fourth finger, he reached for his link again and there it was, a tether to the present even with the ring on. A lifeline that let him scry deep as he wanted into history and come back again. Back to Arthur.
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he closed his eyes.
Show me how to give it to another paranormal. Show me how to bind it to Pavel instead.
He reached back through the ring’s history.
The pale man is surrounded by armored men with swords and maces. His hands are bound in front of him, his fingers bare.
A large man in knight’s armor steps forward. His helm is topped with a giant feather and he has one gauntlet off, a black ring box in his palm. He lifts his visor, revealing a thick mustache and beard, and sneers at the pale man. “Did you truly think Inquisitor de León would not find you? He’ll find you all. Your trinkets too.”
“Trinket.” The pale man laughs. “Your greed betrays you. You want the ring’s power. You’d betray your precious Inquisitor for the first gust of wind.”
The knight’s nostrils flare. “You’re mad,” he says, though his voice isn’t as sure.
“And you lust in vain.” The pale man’s lip curls. “The ring will never work for you. Not while I live.”
The knight narrows his eyes. “Then it’s a good thing you can die.”
“My death will not bring you what you crave. You cannot master the ring without its secrets.” The pale man bares his teeth in a wolf’s smile. “And I will take those secrets to the grave.”
The bearded knight clenches his jaw. “Diablo,” he spits out. “Devil. Witch.” He pulls the ring box tight to his chest. “Mátalo,” he says to one of the other knights. “Kill him.”
The knight raises his mace...
* * *
Rory gasped, yanking himself back to the present. “No, no, no,” he said, teeth clenched. “There must be a way. There has to be a way to give it to Pavel besides killing me, come on.”
Frustration rose inside him, hot in his chest, and he clenched his fists. “Come on,” he snapped out, more loudly, both fists coming down through the air—
And that was when he heard the distant, high-pitched whistle.
* * *
The phone Arthur had found was in a small office next to the upstairs lavatories. He held the phone receiver even more tightly against his ear to hear Jade’s voice over the din of the party down the hall as she said, “You think Mansfield’s lawyer was implying something about magic?”
“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted. “But we know what kind of collection Luther Mansfield really had.”
“And we know there’s a missing lodestone that may have been in Bowery Bank,” said Jade. “If it was special enough to keep in a safe-deposit box, maybe it was special enough for special instructions.”
“Instructions like, on the event of my death, get the lodestone immediately?” Arthur pursed his lips. “Well, Edgar was certainly on edge.”
“I suppose he could be on edge simply because his client was murdered in cold blood. That’s reason enough for most.”
“I suppose,” he said slowly. “Unless something else has unsettled him. Or someone.”
“We can’t forget Baron Zeppler,” said Jade. “Zeppler and three of his operatives were supposed to come to America for an amulet. He’s likely not thrilled he had to give that up to avoid Gwen. Perhaps he’s come calling to make another purchase.”
Arthur’s stomach lurched. “I’m coming back to the city tomorrow,” he said firmly. “I’ll do some investi—wait.” He stopped himself, remembering his other party conversation. He tried to not huff with frustration. “I beg your pardon. I’ll come back, do my single promised meeting with John, then help investigate.”
“More family obligations?” Jade’s tone was sympathetic, perhaps wryly amused.
“There are a lot of expectations in America,” he said ruefully.
John’s question, however, had been completely unexpected.
Do you still dream of the war?
For a split second, the dream tried to surge, the room, the eyes, the teeth. Arthur viciously buried it, shaking his head to clear it as he forced himself to concentrate on Jade’s words.
“It’s all right, Ace, your family needs you too,” she was saying, with understanding. “I’m sure Rory will help us.”
Arthur’s spine stiffened. “If there’s any chance whatsoever of Zeppler’s hand in this, it would be dangerous for Rory to stay with us,” he said, because as much as he’d been looking forward to having Rory alone in his flat again, he wanted Rory safe most of all. “Perhaps we should see if Rory will bunker down in Montreal for a bit?”
She snorted delicately. “Good luck suggesting that. Rory will put you in your place faster than you can ask where’s that breeze coming from?”
Despite everything, Arthur grinned. “Don’t be silly,” he said. “Rory needs the ring to call the wind, and we’ve left that in Manhattan, locked tight in my safe.”