By one in the morning, Rory was contentedly slouched in a chair at the foot of the stage. It was warm in the club, and Stella had finished for the night, the band playing a soft instrumental cover of “The Man I Love,” one of Rory’s favorites. Some of the tables near the bar had been shoved away and couples were slow dancing. On his left, Zhang and Ling were chatting in Chinese, their words washing pleasantly over him.

It was nice to be off his sore feet, which he’d propped up on one of the other chairs as he helped himself to the last of their tables’ canapes. But as he popped another pastry pig in his mouth, Jade was suddenly taking the seat to his left.

“Thank you,” he started to say, then realized she was biting back a smile.

She waved away his gratitude. “Thank me by taking Ace home.”

Rory blinked. She pointed down the table, and she was definitely trying not to smile. Rory followed her finger to see Arthur, sitting across from Sasha and Pavel and gesturing more enthusiastically than normal.

As the band’s last notes and audience applause faded, Rory could just make out Arthur’s words. “I love your new hair, Sasha, it’s really lovely, you know, it just really suits you,” Arthur was saying, with absolute sincerity. “And Pavel, look at you, you’re dressed up too! The stylish Ivanov siblings, out on the town.”

Pavel blinked.

“Oh boy,” said Rory, but he was starting to smile too.

Jade was shaking her head fondly. “We left Niagara Falls at four o’clock this morning and didn’t stop for dinner. He’s barely slept, I bet he hasn’t eaten, and he’s the only one drinking at a table of completely sober paranormals. He’s going to be so embarrassed. Please go get him, Rory.”

She didn’t have to tell Rory twice. He got to his feet, feeling the long day’s ache all over again as he made his way toward the others.

“Arthur.” Sasha rested her chin in her hand. “What are you drinking tonight?” She pointed at the empty cocktail glass in Arthur’s hand.

“Oh, you’ll love this,” Arthur said conspiratorially. “I asked for something special and they brought me a Russian.” He paused. “Four Russians. But don’t worry.” He waved the glass meaningfully. “It wasn’t very strong.”

Sasha and Pavel exchanged a glance, eyebrows up. Pavel leaned forward toward Arthur. “You know vodka has very little taste, yes?”

Arthur furrowed his brow. “Well, that’s true, but you can’t find vodka in America.”

Sasha covered her smile with her hand. “Unless your Russian friends help the speakeasy find a supplier.”