Kelly was nearly across the barroom, and James was still sitting. He refused to be seen as weak—not there on his turf and in front of his own people—so, ignoring the pain in his wounded leg, he stood up and steadied himself with the cane.
Sundren as he was, Paul Kelly could not have felt the way the magic in the room flared as he walked through the saloon. The air filled with the nervous warmth of affinities on the verge of becoming, as each Mageus present watched, wary and ready, for whatever would happen. To James Lorcan, it felt in that moment as though the whole world was no bigger than that particular smoky barroom and the people within it, each of them holding their breath and waiting.
“Paul,” James said, greeting Kelly like they were old friends. “What brings you to the Strega tonight?” He glanced beyond Paul Kelly to the boy the Five Pointers was holding. “Or maybe I should ask what you’ve brought me?”
Kelly smirked. “My guys picked him up down on Broome Street. He’s got a pretty enough face,” he said, giving the blond a couple of sharp smacks on the cheek that had the boy wincing. “But not too many brains. He demanded I bring him to you.”
“Did he?” James asked, ignoring the unsettled energy that permeated the barroom as he examined the blond.
“He did,” Kelly said. “Which causes a problem for me. We need to get something clear, Lorcan—whatever mutually beneficial understanding we might have between us, I don’t take orders from you or yours. Got it?”
“He’s not one of mine,” James said, turning his attention back to Kelly and assessing the danger in the air.
“He says otherwise.”
The blond was breathing heavily, as though he were in pain, and staring at James from his one good eye. James ignored his face and focused on the Aether around him. It was hazy, indistinct, but it didn’t seem to indicate that the stranger posed any threat. If anything, the way it was already fusing with the set patterns was a positive sign. He stepped toward the trio, the tap of his cane punctuating the uneasy silence in the bar.
“Who are you?” James asked the blond when they were face-to-face. There was definitely something to the boy—the warmth of magic hung around him, clear to anyone who shared it.
“Logan,” the boy told him, never once flinching under James’ steady stare. “Logan Sullivan.”
“Who sent you, Logan Sullivan?” James asked.
The guy’s expression never flickered. The Aether around him never wavered. “You did.”
“I did?” James said, studying the stranger for some sign of deception.
“That’s what he kept telling my guys,” Kelly said.
“He’s lying,” James told Kelly as he continued to eye this new entity. “I don’t know any Logan Sullivan, and I certainly don’t know him.”
“You do, and I can prove it,” the boy said.
James got the sense this Logan Sullivan, whoever he was, wasn’t lying. At least he didn’t believe he was lying. Which wasn’t going to help James’ position with Kelly. He had to neutralize this danger quickly, before everything he’d so carefully positioned started to fall apart.
“I’m not interested in listening to your lies,” James said, starting to turn away.
“Maybe you’d be interested in the Delphi’s Tear,” Logan said. “It’s here, you know. In the city . . .”
James turned back to Logan. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Logan told him, his expression never wavering. “You want the ring? I can find it for you. It’s not far from here, but it’s moving even as we speak.”
“What’s this?” Kelly asked, his voice dark and suspicious.
It was a delicate thing, to lead Kelly on without giving him too much. Information was power, and knowledge was the noose that could be slipped around a neck. But James didn’t hesitate in his answer.
“It’s one of the jewels I told you about—the ones that Darrigan and the girl made off with.”
“The ones I sent my guys after?” Kelly narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You’d better not have sent me on a chase, Lorcan.”
“I didn’t,” James said, ignoring the threat. “Darrigan and the girl are out there, and when you find them and the things they stole, the Order will reward you handsomely.”
Or they would if I wasn’t planning on taking them first.
James considered Logan. “Where’s this proof you claim to have?”
“Left inside jacket pocket,” Logan told him.
Again James was struck by the stranger’s steadiness, but he didn’t read any danger here . . . quite the opposite.
James approached Logan again. “If I may?” The Five Pointers looked to Kelly, who gave them a subtle nod, and then James reached into Logan’s jacket and fished out a small, paper-wrapped package. “What is it?” he asked.
“Open it,” Logan said, his gaze calm and sure.
Too sure.
James tucked the cane under his arm and made quick work of the wrapping. His eyes told him what he was holding before his brain could accept it. “Where did you get this?” he asked.
“Like I said, you gave it to me.”
It wasn’t possible. The small notebook he was holding in his hand was instantly recognizable. After all, he had an identical one in his own jacket pocket.
“I didn’t give you any—” His words were lost as he flipped through the book to find his own cramped, familiar handwriting on its pages. He stopped and went back to the beginning. . . . It was definitely his notes.
And his own notebook was definitely still in his pocket. Even now he felt the comforting weight of it.
Flipping forward, James stopped at the page he’d written earlier that morning. But this notebook continued on, still all in his own hand.
“What is it?” Kelly asked, clearly impatient to know what James saw in the notebook.
“It’s nothing,” James said, closing the notebook. “He’s lying. This doesn’t tell me anything at all.”
Kelly frowned at James as though considering whether to believe him. Finally, he seemed to relent. “What should we do with him, then? I can have my guys take care of it if you want.”
“Leave him to me,” James told him.
“You?” Kelly seemed surprised, and more than a little disappointed.
“He’s dragging my name through the mud. I think I should be the one to deal with him,” James told him. Kelly wouldn’t have respected him otherwise. “He won’t bother you or yours again.”
Kelly studied James for a long moment, and the unease permeating the room around them seemed to swell in the silence. But then he gave his two men another nod, and they dropped the boy, who crumpled to his knees, clearly injured.
“Mooch,” James said. “Would you escort our guest to the cellar? Tie him up and make sure he’s quiet until I get there. With force, if need be.”
“No—” Logan tried to scramble to his feet, but Mooch and one of the other boys were on him before he could get far. With his soft features, he didn’t stand much of a chance.
James waited until they were gone before he gestured to the table he’d been sitting at a few minutes before. “Have a drink with me? I owe you for bringing that bit of trouble to my attention.”