Our spell in New York caused a rupture in the veil in Paris. Who is to say there aren’t more ruptures around the world, more men like the duke using it for their own terrible gains?

“Am I truly to be your jailer, then? It’s my job to accompany you? I have to send the telegram. We don’t have time for this.”

He shrugs, his hands in his pockets. “Or I can go alone. I thought you’d prefer to supervise.”

I’m annoyed that he’s right and confused that he waited for me. He could have easily snuck off.

I’m holding a simple straw hat in my hands. I’d ripped it off my pinned-up hair in the elevator, but I place it back on my head in resignation.

“Hold on a moment.”

He waits like a puppy by the door as I go to my room and get a notebook and a pen. If I’m going to wait for him in the pews, I’ll draft my telegram to Florence as I do it. Where do I begin? IMMORTAL DUKE PLEASE ADVISE.

The walk to the church is awkward. I still don’t know how to be around Finn when it is just the two of us. There is the part of me that wants to extend an arm and shove him into the Seine, but the louder part of my brain knows we need him. I haven’t ruled out pushing him into the Seine once we are done.

“Where were you?” he asks after a few blocks.

“It’s none of your business,” I say. The truth is, after my father’s story, I’m terrified. But Finn is the last person I want to share my fears with. He has an uncanny way of picking at the things that scare me and using them against me, to draw me closer to him. I can’t give him the ammunition, not when I already feel on the verge of breaking into a million pieces.

He scoffs, “Ah, so with Callahan, then.”

“I said it’s none of your business.”

“He’s got fancy suits and money to burn. You’ll have a nice life. You’ll be bored in three years.”

“Go to hell.”

He claps his hands together and furrows his brows. It takes me a moment to realize what he’s doing, but then it dawns on me. He’s trying a spell that won’t come. “I’m already in hell, darling.”

“Call me ‘darling’ one more time and I’ll blacken your other eye. I’ll match the one Oliver did.”

“Your beloved has a weak right hook.”

“Would you like to see if mine is stronger?”

Under his breath he mutters, “I know it would be.”

“I’m starting to believe you like getting hit.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t push me further.