Gwen sighed. “The seller is an English aristocrat and he won’t move forward without a buyer’s name. We need a real name, someone who might believably have an unconscionable sum of money to spend on a paranormal object.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, in realization. “Like an American congressman’s fool of a son, who thinks he can handle the paranormal world and is ripe for getting taken to the cleaners.”

“No,” Rory said, standing back up. “No, you’re not getting Ace mixed up in this—”

“We’re on the same side now,” Gwen said softly. “Sebastian wants the de Leons’ siphon back. You lot want the pomander out of action.”

Jade raised an eyebrow. “And what do you and Ellis want?”

“Vengeance,” Ellis said, without remorse. “On the baron who tried to tear Gwen and me apart.” He pointed at Rory. “And before you judge me for that, remember what this kid did to the man who laid hands on Arthur.”

Over by the pocket door, Sebastian’s brow furrowed. He looked between Rory and Arthur.

Rory glared at Ellis. Their secrets weren’t his to tell. “I was real out of it on that boat, didn’t know the sky from the river.”

“And speaking of that boat,” Arthur said, with narrowed eyes. “Before I make any decisions about what I may or may not be willing to do, I want a chat with Mr. de Leon.”

Chapter Fifteen

Arthur wanted to talk to Sebastian somewhere without Gwen and Ellis, but Jade and Zhang wanted to stay in the art gallery’s back room with the books. Arthur hesitated, not eager to leave them alone, but Gwen and Ellis hadn’t done anything alarming quite yet and Jade didn’t seem in the slightest bit worried.

Rory joined them, however, shooting dirty looks at Sebastian and following Arthur a touch closer than a friend probably would have.

Behind the back room’s pocket doors was the second, even smaller room that might have once been a closet but was empty save for two broken wooden chairs. A narrow door opened to a claustrophobic alley full of boarded-up windows. It smelled of piss and warm beer spilled on pavement, but it did at least keep Rory away from the paranormal paintings in the decoy gallery.

Arthur had to step around three empty bowls right outside the door. “Who’s feeding strays?”

“Are we talking or aren’t we?” Sebastian said.

“Talking,” said Arthur. “Over drinks, where we’re at least going to pretend we aren’t about to kill each other.”

The grimy pub was at the street at the end of the alley. “Don’t look at the flyers in the window,” Arthur heard Sebastian mutter to Rory, as they walked into a small, wood-floored space that was nice and dark, and best of all, not in America under Prohibition.