“It’s like being stuck in a whirlpool,” said Rory, just as the red curtain on the back of the gallery wall was pushed to the side.

“You made it,” said Gwen.

Chapter Fourteen

Gwen hadn’t changed in the three months since Arthur had last seen her in Philadelphia, same pretty face and ringlet curls under a headscarf. Her eyes, Arthur was relieved to see, were still hazel, not the yellow they’d gone when she’d been lost to magic.

Her gaze landed on Arthur, and her eyes widened. For a second, he could have sworn she looked distraught.

And that was new.

He opened his mouth, but Jade spoke first. “Was the goose chase really necessary?” she said, folding her arms.

“It was, I’m sorry. I was counting on Arthur’s non-magic eyes.” Gwen actually sounded like she meant the apology. “The paintings are all by Isabel de Leon. She’s quite the paranormal talent.”

“I’ve seen her work,” Rory said flatly. “In Manhattan, at Luther Mansfield’s mansion. I got stuck in her painting of dancers because of you.”

“If I could remind you that you were actually breaking and entering at the time—never mind.” Gwen glanced back at Jade. “You look lovely, Jade. It’s really good to see you.”

“You saw me three months ago,” Jade said dryly. “Your husband chained me to the Wonder Wheel next to Arthur.”

“Oh. Of course. To be fair, I couldn’t really see you then, just all your sparkly telekinesis.” Gwen’s words were met with an awkward silence. She cleared her throat. “Right. Well. Our history aside, here you are, because despite wanting nothing to do with me, you need me.”

“We didn’t bring the pomander,” Rory said brusquely. “So you’re not gonna bind it to anyone.”

“You haven’t found a way to destroy it, though, have you.” Gwen didn’t make it a question. “You’re just walking around with its secrets still in your head, ripe for the picking by the unscrupulous. Meanwhile, the rest of the world should just hope you don’t decide to want its power for yourself.”

Arthur made a noise of objection as Rory’s eyes widened. “I would never—”

“It’s simply an observation,” said Gwen. “You’re a dangerous man. I didn’t say you’re a bad one.”

“You’re a dangerous woman,” Arthur said dryly. “And we don’t know if you’re bad or not.”

Gwen just smiled. “We’re all united in at least one thing: none of us want Baron Zeppler to get his hands on the pomander—or Rory.” She gestured to the red velvet curtain at the back of the room. “So come join us, and let’s figure out how to stop that from happening.”