“Who’s jesting? You’re not in our bedroom.”

Arthur snorted again, shaking his head. For a moment, they could have been back in Paris, before Baron Zeppler had torn them apart, when Ellis would talk sports with him and Gwen would read his aura like a fortune-teller, just to make him laugh.

Arthur did miss them.

But he wasn’t stupid enough to trust them.

He rubbed at his eyes just as the pocket door slid open.

“The seller sent a new telegram,” Jade said, looking grim. “He’s willing to meet Arthur, but only tomorrow evening and in a very short window. We don’t have much time to get to Paris and form a plan; we need to leave tonight.”

“It does help to cross the English Channel when you have an amulet that controls the tide—” Gwen suddenly cut her own words off as she and Jade stared very hard just to the right of Arthur, listening intently to silence.

Arthur side-eyed the empty space, quite certain he was standing in Zhang again.

The next moment, Jade met his eyes, and Arthur’s stomach plummeted, because hers had widened with alarm. “Jianwei just saw a man fitting Rory’s description of the firestarter paranormal from Boston,” she said. “He’s searching the streets, and he’s not alone.”

Chapter Eighteen

One moment, Rory was sitting on the chaise, eating cookies—biscuits, Gwen called them. Next moment, the red curtain was shoved aside, and Sebastian and Ellis were in the room.

“Go,” Sebastian was saying to Ellis. “I’ll buy you time to get to the dock.”

Rory stood. “What the hell is going on?”

“You brought a friend from America,” Ellis snapped. “Jack Mercier, paranormal with a fire aura, knows Baron Zeppler. Ring a bell yet?”

Rory’s heart leapt into his throat.

“I know who he is,” said Sebastian. “If he saw you in the tube station, he could have guessed you were hiding in the area.” He grimaced. “Or maybe his partner found and followed you.”

“Partner?” Rory repeated, just as Zhang’s astral projection shimmered into view.

“Mercier has another paranormal with him.” Zhang was flickering as he did when he was projecting in more than one place. “Short and blond, with a cleft chin.”

“That sounds like François Chance, a teleporter skilled at tracking.” Sebastian was standing straighter, abruptly reminding Rory he’d been a soldier like Ellis and Arthur. “They often work together.”

“You should have told us you had this asshole after you,” Ellis snarled at Rory. “You think Gwen and I have been playing some sort of game? We’ve had Mercier on our tail before.”