In the corner of his eye, Arthur saw one of the henchmen climb behind the wheel of the Delage Arthur had stolen, while Becker got the siphon clock out of the car’s front seat. He carried the clock over to the manor and set it gently on the front steps, the gold muted and strange in the greenish fog that hung unnaturally in the air to light the manor grounds.

Becker got into the front passenger seat as two more henchmen got into the back. The driver started up the engine, and the car made a loop of the circular driveway and disappeared down the gravel path.

Zeppler stepped closer. “It is darker without the headlights,” he said distractedly. “But I hardly need to see you when I can hear you as I do.”

Arthur swallowed again.

Zeppler nodded knowingly. “I do look deceptively harmless. Everyone expects to meet a monster, but appearance has nothing to do with good or evil. Beautiful people are capable of cruel thoughts and actions.” He tilted his head. “You’re wondering how my telepathy works.”

What was Arthur going to do, contradict him?

“I hear your thoughts as if you’re speaking out loud to me,” said Zeppler. “But even for a telepath, I am exceptional. There is a lot more to my magic than hearing thoughts.”

Because Zeppler was a telepath with a relic. Arthur tried not to think it—

Zeppler’s mouth turned up in a dark smile. “Yes, I’ve learned that the psychometric has a relic too. That’s going to make him very useful. But you; you are useful too.”

Zeppler leaned forward. “What happened to my people in America, Lieutenant Kenzie?”

No. No, Ace, think of something else, anything else—

Zeppler’s eyes narrowed. “Really?” he said, drawing it out. “Miss Shelley, murdered by Mr. Hyde. Mr. Hyde, trapped in the fifteenth century by Mr. Giovacchini. And Mr. de Leon, hiding from Mr. Becker’s magic in London—well. He won’t be hiding for much longer, will he?”

Christ.

“But of course I’m dancing around the most important things right now,” said Zeppler. “The relics. You’ve left the pomander in New York City, and that was very wise of you. No matter; I have contacts there and everywhere.”

He clasped his hands. “And of course, the talented Gwendoline Taylor has a relic now too. She is an unknown, isn’t she? Did you know we’ve been in contact?”

“What?” Arthur whispered, before he could stop himself. No, Gwen would never contact Baron Zeppler on her own, she wouldn’t—

“She would. And she did.” Zeppler’s dark smile was back. “I do hope you weren’t fool enough to trust—oh.” He shook his head pityingly. “You were.”

Arthur’s stomach lurched.