“It would seem so.” Jade smiled, her eyes narrowed. “Jianwei, darling, I think we have no more need for pretenses.”

Blanshard’s eyes flicked to the right, where Arthur assumed Zhang’s astral projection was suddenly visible.

“Is our path clear?” Jade asked the air.

“You’re playing right into his hand,” Blanshard said lowly. “This is what he—” His mouth suddenly closed as if on its own, his lips unnaturally stuck together. Rage flared in Blanshard’s eyes again.

Jade abruptly stood. “Let’s go, Arthur.”

Arthur didn’t ask questions. He passed his would-be assailant, the knife still hovering at the other man’s throat, and reached for the curtain, holding it open as Jade strode at an almost-run in front of him.

They thundered down the stairs together, Jade moving impressively quickly in her heels. “This way,” she said, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from the main doors. “And quickly; I can’t hold those knives forever, and I’m almost too far already.”

They burst out the side of the building. Zhang’s physical form was at the curb, holding a taxi door open.

“Let’s go!” he called. “The others got the siphon; they’re on their way to the cabaret.”

Arthur let Jade and Zhang in, then climbed in behind them just as Blanshard’s henchmen came running out the main doors of the building.

But as their cab pulled away from the curb, leaving the henchmen behind, Arthur felt no relief, only more trepidation than ever.

You’re playing right into his hand.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The cab took them across Paris, back to the cabaret. Arthur went ahead of Jade and Zhang this time, all the way up the stairs. Most of the space on the building’s top floor was taken up by a small lounge for performers and tenants.

Ellis met them at the door. “Keep it down,” he said to Arthur in a harsh whisper, as he blocked the doorway. “The kid’s in a trance.”

Worry flared in Arthur. “Where is Rory?” He pushed past Ellis, into the room.

Ellis grabbed his arm. “I said keep it down,” he hissed. “He’s with Gwen, scrying the siphon. If anyone can make a bit of fifteenth-century magic work again, it’s those two.”

Arthur set his jaw. He looked at Ellis’s hand, still on his bicep. “Let go of me,” he said, low and warningly.

Ellis released him, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just trying to keep you from charging in like a bull elephant, all right? You do that, charge in to save people without thinking it through. It’s how you get hurt.”