Then he felt it against his skin again: a burst of magic. For a split second, the pressure of the gun was gone—and then it was back. “What just happened?”

“Shut up,” snarled Chance.

“I know what that was,” Gwen said. “Because I lived it for two years. Zeppler broke your teleportation trying to unlock a relic, didn’t he? You can’t fully control it anymore, can you? Like Hyde with his transformation, or me with my aura-sight.”

“I said shut up,” Chance barked. “Mercier, what’s taking you?”

“We can’t all teleport, arsehole.”

Rory stiffened at the voice from Boston. He glanced out of the corner of his eye, and felt, more than saw, the telltale glow of Mercier as he approached, his aura lit like coals ready to flare.

“Jack.” Gwen had raised her voice. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Don’t start with me, Gwen,” Mercier said warningly, but Rory felt the rippling heat as the flames rose another inch.

“Philippe used to hate water,” Gwen continued. “Does that run in your bloodline like fire, I wonder? Can you even swim?”

Rory just caught Mercier’s shudder. “That kid has a relic,” he said to Chance, in an undertone.

“So?” said Chance.

“So Zeppler told us he was the only paranormal with a relic’s power,” Mercier hissed. “He lied. The Puppeteer lied too.”

“What are you talking about?” said Chance.

“They were hiding,” said Mercier, in a furious whisper. “That means Sebastian. And if Sebastian is here, that means Becker can’t reach him. So Becker lied when he said he could pull our strings from anywhere on the globe, and I figure if I stay far enough away, he can’t touch me either.”

Chance stilled. “You would turn traitor?”

“I wanted more magic,” snapped Mercier. “I never signed up to be someone else’s match.”

Chance twitched, and Jesus, Rory did not want him to lose control of the gun still jammed against his head.

“Let the kid go,” said Ellis. “You want a fight, you know we’ll give you one.”

“I knew something was wrong when you came back from America,” Chance started. “I’ll tell Zeppler. I’ll tell all of them—”

But at that moment, Rory felt it again, the burst of magic crackling in the air, the pressure of the gun easing—

The oar came whizzing at Rory’s face like a javelin, so fast he couldn’t dodge.

Except it missed him by inches, smashing into Chance’s half-present form instead.

Chance howled, and the gun suddenly dropped from Rory’s temple. He sprinted forward, down the dock, just as Arthur lunged for him. Arthur spun them so Rory was behind him, which was ridiculous because Rory was about to pull a gale out of his pocket.