“I mostly certainly do assume you have a plan and I just don’t know it,” Arthur said dryly. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

Gwen and Jade returned a couple minutes later with a woman of about forty with a curly bob and russet-brown skin, dressed in flowing trousers and a drapey blouse with a giant bow. She wore a top hat and had a long cigarette holder in one hand, and she was smiling at the other two like a fond aunt.

The other three men instantly climbed out of the car to their feet and Rory scrambled to match their manners.

The nightclub’s music was louder on the sidewalk as Arthur extended his hand to Carmen. “Hola, señora,” he said, with a genuine smile. “I wasn’t sure if you were still here or if you’d returned to Havana.”

“Arthur.” She let him take her hand, still looking fond. “How wonderful to see you again.”

Carmen’s accent was similar to Sebastian’s but more pronounced, the way Rory’s mom’s had been. She shook Ellis’s hand, Zhang’s hand, and then turned to Rory. “Benvenuto, signore,” she said.

He bit his lip, a small, surprised smile forming that she’d welcome him in Italian. “Hey,” he said, waving awkwardly.

“You must all be tired.” She clapped her hands. “Come in, come upstairs.”

The three floors above the cabaret had been converted to rentable space at least a century earlier. Arthur hadn’t lived here himself; during his time in Paris, he’d leased a small flat in the sixteenth arrondissement, courtesy of his family’s connections. But he’d come here to visit Jade and hear Stella sing, and the nostalgia hit hard as he climbed the stairs with their same worn carpet, especially as Gwen and Ellis’s lovestruck murmurs came from just in front of him.

Those were some of his most treasured memories. And of course, two years ago, his aura had also been whole, not torn and disintegrating, only bandaged by Rory’s magic—

Arthur shook his head, like he could banish the thought.

Rory was a step behind him, even tenser than normal. “Will we be next door to each other?” he whispered, reminding Arthur that Rory had bolted himself into his own room like a prisoner for years. The fact that he slept peacefully next to Arthur was a battle hard won, and even with their link, he wasn’t going to be comfortable alone in a strange place.

But Gwen looked over her shoulder. “You two are sharing.”

Rory’s eyes widened. “But—”

“This isn’t America,” Gwen said. “And compared to most of the tenants here, you two are positively dull.”

“I love to be the boring one,” Arthur said, as he reached back with his hand, his fingers lightly brushing Rory’s.