Chapter 8

AUbrEY

The next morning

Aubrey’s colleagues hadn’t questioned why their curator had cordoned off the storeroom of the Magnificus Collectio, and for that Aubrey was grateful. Only the researchers and junior curators, like Alon, even knew of the existence of their store room, since they were the only ones aside from Aubrey trained in the proper methods of indexing, labeling, and restoring the items.

And as the Collectio’s first, and so far only, curator, Aubrey had the clout and favors to trade on when he told the Collectio’s executive management that he would need to inform the staff to be ready to evacuate. Magnus Durnshee, the only person Aubrey reported to, had raised an eyebrow at that. But Magnus also understood that Aubrey would never ask unless it was necessary.

The only thing Magnus had wanted to know was if the item Aubrey was bringing in was alive. And Aubrey couldn’t properly answer that. Magnus had nodded once, then pulled a sealed lead box from the safe and handed Aubrey a warding glyph. It was a piece of black tourmaline polished and shaped into a rectangle roughly the length of Aubrey’s palm, and with it, Aubrey could activate every ward on the building. Or take them down, depending on the situation. Those wards were the museum’s way of containing errant magic and could, from everything Aubrey understood, protect the entire block from any kind of magical explosions, fires, or other catastrophes.

And now, as Aubrey pulled on his coat and made to leave out the museum’s back door, his hand went into his vest pocket. There beside his velvet-wrapped monocle was the warding glyph. Whatever it was that Ethaniel had to show him, Aubrey could only hope it was harmless. Aside from the obvious danger of dealing with any unknown magical item or artifact, the thought of putting anyone at risk made his stomach clench.

Thinking of Ethaniel in harm’s way made Aubrey want to vomit. On the heels of that feeling was the one thing he’d uttered to himself every night since their argument last autumn.

You owe him a proper apology. On bent knee and begging. Because you miss him dearly and he deserves so much better, and yet selfishly you can’t let him go.

Maybe he’d get that chance today.

Aubrey took the streetcar from the northeast edge of the Village to Bryant Park. He chose the one that followed along Sixth Avenue, instead of the more tourist route following Fifth. His entire body felt itchy and restless, and Aubrey was in no mood for a trolley packed with gawkers and hangers-on. Instead, as he watched the neighborhood slowly pass by from his seat on a hard metal bench, Aubrey was alone save for a man in a sharp blue suit at the front and two young women in brightly hued walking dresses near the back.

With no major distractions at hand, Aubrey closed his eyes to focus. Last night’s meditation hadn’t helped him sleep, but it had brought a sense of clarity over his morning tea and toast. The temptation to wear his father’s medallions to meet Ethaniel had been almost too much as Aubrey dressed, but he’d shaken it off like an irksome insect. The medallions were gold and silver, oxidized copper and well-worn bronze, all meant to protect and provide. Maybe, at one point long ago, they had given his father strength or energy. But now they were reminders of the man Aubrey had adored as a child, and how bitter their relationship had become after that same man had turned on him.

You can do this, Aubrey reminded himself once again as the streetcar’s bell rang overhead, signaling a track change. Whatever Ethaniel has to show you, you can handle it readily. Ethaniel trusts you. Needs you. Be there for him.

The bell rang again ten minutes later and Aubrey exited the streetcar before it came to a full stop. Bryant Park was a half a block away, and even from here the green of new grass blazed against the stone grays and mud browns of the city. Aubrey skirted a few puddles between the footworn boards of the sidewalk, eclipsing the strolling couples arm in arm and drawing a few looks as he hurried by. Most of the time, it was his height that drew such attention. If he were hurrying to the park at sundown, he knew he would draw looks from those wondering if Aubrey was on his way to a raison d’etre near the fountains; a well known meeting spot for men looking for male company.

None of that mattered at the moment, because just beyond the park gates sat the famous Bryant Park fountain. And to the west of the massive bowl-like fountain and seated on a bench across from it was Ethaniel. Aubrey’s heart hammered, as if it had forgotten the sight of Ethaniel behind his shop counter last week. As if Aubrey’s attempt at conversation hadn’t been stilted.

But Ethaniel wasn’t alone. His head was tipped down toward a shorter, leaner man with copper-streaked hair and dressed in demure navy and gray. When the other man tilted his face up to Ethaniel, Aubrey’s heart nearly stopped.

He knew that man.

Beautiful. Young. Dressed in fairly formal attire but glinting with jewelry at his throat and on his fingers.

The Earl of Batherton.

They”d been at the same auction not a fortnight ago. And this man was friends with that odious malcontent who wouldn’t take Aubrey’s (or rather, the Collectio’s) money for the diary of a court mage. Yes, the book had been merely historical in interest, but Aubrey had been excited to read it. The question of why Calix’s friend hadn’t taken Aubrey’s offer had been a small one, and it had been temporarily forgotten when he had been too occupied with the near-perfect glass circle left when Calix had dropped a bottle.

Aubrey had always treated glass circles with the same amused vexation as things like the Death tarot card. Neither meant what most thought — clarity, or reflection in the case of glass, and death for…Death. That was where the amusement came in, as if the gods were having a laugh at poor humanity’s expense. The Death card meant change, transformation. Not always the best time in one’s life, but it rarely ever meant actually dying. And glass in a circle, especially spontaneous and random, rarely meant finding an answer. So much like that dreaded Death card in some readings, the glass meant reflection. Self-awareness. What was reflected wasn’t always positive, but like Death, it gave the person looking for answers a warning and a path forward. Whether they chose to act on it rested solely on the individual.

But Cunning Folk, particularly healers, saw glass as betrayal. A broken glass was of no use to anyone, so his mother had said many times, and it signified the shattering of a whole. Of the self, of a relationship, of even one’s whole identity. It was change, yes. A death, in some ways. But it was almost always negative.

Those meanings warred within him still as he watched Calix laugh at something Ethaniel said. Aubrey’s stomach was full of razors then, jealous and bitter and angry at himself for not being better to Ethaniel.

He felt brittle. Glass on the edge of a table, waiting to be tipped.

Aubrey shoved his hands in his pockets, reaching for the black tourmaline piece as he proceeded through the park gates. Winter’s chill had unclenched its fist from around the city and the first sprigs of spring green were pushing up through black-brown dirt around the tall elms scattered amongst the park’s paths. Soon, the park would be full to bursting as spring courting began and the gowns and ascots would vie for the gaze of others next to lilacs and tulips and hydrangea. And Aubrey would avoid this place, and many others, like the plague while most strolled in the sunshine. The world may be advancing, but someone preferring his own company was still seen as some kind of…errant behavior.

Well, it wasn’t the worst errant behavior he’d partaken in, but that wasn’t anyone’s business but his own and his partner’s.

Ethaniel had been his last partner. That wound was open once more, flowing freely and unwilling to be staunched as Aubrey stared at Ethaniel. Surely one of them would see him at some point. But Ethaniel and Calix were so deep in their conversation that Aubrey got to within mere feet before he caught Calix’s gaze.

Both men shot to their feet, but only Calix’s face registered surprise. Ethaniel’s expression remained neutral, but the fleeting edges of a smile he’d given Calix trembled at the corners of his lips. Aubrey wanted to see Ethaniel’s smile once more, but not here, not now. Not with so much uncertainty clinging to the very air between them.

“You came,” Ethaniel said. He sounded relieved.

Aubrey nodded, trying to appear unaffected by simply being in Ethaniel’s presence. He could maintain the stalwart facade for a few more minutes, surely. “Of course I did. Intriguing mystery aside, I’m not someone to go back on my word.”

“You are not,” Ethaniel agreed, now letting Aubrey see a bit of that smile.

Calix sucked in a breath and stuck out his hand before saying, “Mr. Lavigne. It’s good to see you again.”

Aubrey took the proffered hand, not wanting to appear rude as he remained quiet. Attempting to unscramble his thoughts — spooling out, like insect feelers or the roots of a tree — made things even harder to parse. There were too many questions and not enough answers and they were out in the open.

“I admit I’m surprised it’s you, Mr. Addington,” Aubrey replied finally. “But you’ll have to pardon my hesitance with this situation. It is nothing personal. This is one of those instances where the world feels quite small.”

“Aubrey worries,” Ethaniel said quietly. “And his cautious nature is a boon for us, especially now.” Ethaniel’s glance his way and how his shoulder brushed Aubrey’s made Aubrey shiver.

He wanted to scoff at himself. A little bit of contact and he was biting the inside of his cheek, ready to prostrate himself at Ethaniel’s feet.

“Well, I…” Aubrey trailed off, shoving his hands into his pockets once more and feeling for the tourmaline and the velvet bag where his monocle waited. “I’m not about to examine anything out in the open, but I can get an idea easily enough. Where is this item?”

Calix tightened his hand on the satchel over his shoulder. “Here. But…” He looked around and Aubrey saw panic there. Genuine fear.

“Stay as you are, Mr. Addington,” Aubrey said, trying to sound soothing. “You could sit back down, if you like.”

“Let’s do that.” Ethaniel drew Calix back to the bench, but Aubrey could tell his attention was fractured, too. His gaze darted around, as if daring someone to take too much of an interest in the three of them. Aubrey did notice one woman staring their way, but from her disdainful sniff in their direction, she was likely more worried about their proclivities than what Calix had hidden away in his satchel. Aubrey quickly slipped on his monocle, making sure to tighten the chain around his neck, and gave the woman a cursory glance. No magic. Nothing of interest.

“Why don’t you tell Calix about the museum, Ethaniel?” Aubrey murmured as he adjusted the monocle’s lenses. From the outside, anyone looking at the monocle wouldn’t see a difference. The trick was in the pattern of taps he gave the monocle’s gold rim; each one switched the lens, giving Aubrey different insights into any object.

One tap: a simple focused glass lens, for closer examination.

Two taps: a lilac-tinted lens to allow for observation of any curses or traps.

Three taps: forest green, to look for patterns.

Aubrey got no further than three taps. As soon as the lens clicked into place, he was blinded. Pain seared through his head and Aubrey cursed, ripping the monocle away and squeezing his eyes shut.

As he hunched over, palms pressed against the sockets, Aubrey heard Calix let out a shocked cry. But it was Ethaniel’s hands on his knees (and they were Ethaniel’s, they would be no one else’s), that drew Aubrey back into the moment. His head ached and he felt as though he’d stared directly into the sun. He gave a casual bit of worry to his vision, but the tears streaming down his face told him at least something was still working.

“Aubrey,” Ethaniel said softly. “I’m here.”

“I know,” Aubrey managed to choke out. He let his left hand drop and Ethaniel grabbed it. Ethaniel was a lifeline, a beacon, and with that single touch, Aubrey felt safe. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, or even comfortable with in most situations, but as the burning behind his eyes receded, Aubrey knew Ethaniel wouldn’t leave his side.

He’d been so, so foolish. With Ethaniel, with their connection. He’d wiped away the trust they’d built with a single misguided statement that had, like the proverbial stone gathering moss down a hill, become something out of control and impossible to dodge.

Aubrey felt like a horrible cliche, having a moment of realization when the man he loved had saved him once again. But here he was. Here they were.

“Fuck,” Aubrey bit out. “We need to get out of the open. Ethaniel, can you—”

Another hand wrapped around Aubrey’s arm. “To the museum, then?” Calix asked. “We’re drawing a bit of attention.”

Aubrey nodded. His eyes were still clamped shut but with only his head ringing from pain, he thought he could chance opening his eyes. “Pretend you’re comforting me,” Aubrey said as he leaned into Calix’s strength.

“Won’t have to pretend,” Calix replied and tightened his grip on Aubrey’s arm.

For once, Aubrey had no reply, but the kindness felt like a shot to the heart.

He let Calix help him to his feet, took the handkerchief Ethaniel offered, and turned away to wipe his eyes. “I’ve never experienced anything like that,” Aubrey said as he let himself be guided out of the park. Noticing how Calix steered them to a less-used path instead of through the front gates (and noting what that meant about the other man’s familiarity with the place), Aubrey directed his next words to Calix. “I’m assuming you didn’t just stumble across this item, whatever it is.”

“In a strange way, I did,” Calix replied, gently moving Aubrey to the sidewalk. Ethaniel was close, hovering at Aubrey’s left shoulder, and it made Aubrey feel safer. But out in the open, Calix had to let Aubrey’s arm go and the loss almost made him protest.

Aubrey may not have thought much of the man when they’d first met, but his care and concern was touching. And his comment about the item left Aubrey intensely curious. The thrill of the unknown rose up in him, swift and ready to bite, to clamp down on him.

Aubrey glanced over at Ethaniel, who nodded. “It’s quite the story, Aubrey.”

“I’m certain it is.” His eyes still stung, but he could see enough to point left to the next street. “Here, then a right, then a left on Lexington. It’s not far.”

“I’m getting a carriage,” Ethaniel said, his tone serious, deep-set hazel eyes gone dark and brow furrowed in a way that made Aubrey’s fingers itch to touch. “You’re exhausted and shouldn’t be on your feet.”

“I’m grateful for that,” Aubrey replied. And for you.

Aubrey’s eyes returned mostly to normal on the short ride over, though the jostling over uneven streets didn’t help his headache. He and Calix were on one seat, Ethaniel on the opposite. And the satchel was still secure around Calix’s torso, his death-knuckle grip even tighter now. Aubrey couldn’t resist glaring a little at the cursed bag. He had his doubts about Calix Addington, but even more about the item secreted away inside that leather satchel.

Perhaps it was when Calix paid for the carriage — paying over Aubrey’s rather terse objections, mind you. Or it may have been when, like some kind of spy from a dime novel, Calix hovered near Aubrey’s elbow during the short walk from the carriage to the museum’s back doors.

But it became clear as day to Aubrey that Calix felt a sense of duty, of responsibility, to both he and Ethaniel. For…bringing the artifact into their lives? For causing hassle for Ethaniel and pain for him? The exact motivation eluded Aubrey, but he was certain Calix wanted to protect them.

An odd thing, for a wealthy white man to feel so honor-bound to him, a black man, and Ethaniel, who was the son of a white man and a Spanish woman. The country had shifted course, and they benefited from living in a large urban area. But even in New York, white men ruled and Aubrey very much doubted the turn of the century would change that.

As Aubrey used a small iron dowsing rod to deactivate the first set of wards, Calix sucked in an excited breath. He never stopped looking around the alley where the two banks of service doors led into the Attic’s back room, but at least he’d let his hackles relax a little.

“Does the museum deal much in magical artifacts, Aubrey?”

“Here and there,” Aubrey replied as he made a square on the cold metal with his finger, releasing the personal identification wards next.

His reply to Calix was a lie, and not. Darwin’s Attic did occasionally put a magical artifact on display, but they were always dead.

The Collectio was both the clearinghouse for Darwin’s Attic and private clients, focused largely on the preservation and restoration of magical artifacts. A torn page in a grimoire written to ward off the Black Plague here, rethreading the tassels on George Washington’s “invincibility coat” there. (Aubrey could find no evidence that the coat was actually magical. Washington had simply been extremely lucky to never be injured in any way. His coat bore the holes from four bullets he claimed never touched him. Nevertheless, the private collector believed it to be magical, so they restored the coat with a few clever patterns and sent the man on his way.)

The Collectio dealt with items of all kinds — dead, alive, sentient even. But they were not a museum. Even the “Collectio” part of the name was a bit of a misnomer, since most people of sound mind would presume a collection to be at the very least open by invitation. Collections, curiosity museums, cabinets of curiosity, and several other variations on the theme were all the rage over the last few years. The wealthy had their private collections of trinkets and weird artifacts, and a smaller few collected magical items, but those were kept under lock and key — by the Collectio’s orders. There was no way to corral everyone under the Collectio’s invisible but deeply influential political workings, but most collectors understood the consequences if caught with even one unlicensed artifact.

Dire, to say the very least.

The ward on the doors opened with ease under Aubrey’s touch, and it left him relieved. Something deeply odd was going on, and the wards were sometimes temperamental around strong magic. He peered down at the satchel slung across Calix’s lean frame. There was a boyish charm to the man, and he seemed to stay firmly rooted between the masculine and feminine, and that distinct lack of definition (whether intentional or not) poked about in Aubrey’s psyche. His world was full of indefinites and mysteries yet to be unraveled. But so few had the grace, the magnanimity, the…well, the fucking daring to be so open about it. It was something he envied, being able to live honestly like that. He didn’t dare leave his house in anything but a proper suit, but for someone like Calix, so much leniency was given. There were days, admittedly few anymore, where Aubrey daydreamed about wearing the flowing silks and bright colors of his home attire in the wide world, but he doubted that day would ever come.

“Let’s head inside,” Aubrey said to them both, catching Ethaniel’s eye once more. “It would take me some time to set up all the extra wards I suspect we’ll need, so we’ll be using a temporary method for now.” Here, shelves and shelves of items were racked up, ramshackle rectangles stacked on top of each other, and all the residents carrying their own strange stories. But everything in the Attic’s back room was harmless. The same couldn’t be said for what lay beyond the next set of doors.

“I’ve never seen so many strange objects in one place,” Calix said as he lingered near a book on one of the shelves. The book itself was unremarkable, a plain navy leather journal closed by a leather cord wrapped around the middle. The bottom half of the journal was gone, replaced by a bite mark the size of Aubrey’s hand. “What the devil…?”

Ethaniel had the same wondrous reaction when I brought him here the first time, Aubrey thought as he watched the two men gather close, heads bent over the book.

“It’s an augury journal,” Ethaniel said. “It’s completely harmless, according to Aubrey.”

Aubrey snorted. “You say that as if you don’t believe me, Ethaniel.”

“I believe you,” Ethaniel replied softly, his gaze hooking Aubrey’s for a moment before he turned back to Calix. “Aubrey says this is a bite of unknown origin, but apparently the story is that the dreamer who wrote this was so disturbed by what he recorded on the pages that he had his dog bite it.”

“Rendering the book ‘dead’, as we call it,” Aubrey finished. “It’s complicated theory, but it did work as far as we can tell. And the bite mark makes for a good story for the display, or so Ethaniel tells me.” In response, Ethaniel smiled. He’d missed that smile so much, all crinkling hazel-brown eyes and the small dimple on the left side of Ethaniel’s mouth.

Aubrey remembered the stolen hours here, after everyone else had left. He should have taken Ethaniel home with him those times, but those old, half-buried fears had risen up and claimed stake on him once more. Bringing a man home…what if someone saw? What if they figured out who Aubrey was, where he worked, and told someone? If he lost his job, if he lost his purpose….then what?

The moment between he and Ethaniel passed and with it, Aubrey could breathe once more. But the air tasted bitter as he returned to unsealing the hidden doors that led into the Collectio itself.

“Here,” Aubrey said as he held out two dark gray stone amulets on leather cords. “Keep these on while you’re inside.”

Ethaniel nodded and took the amulet, but Calix hesitated. Gods, he looked young even in the dim light of the Attic’s storeroom. Calix had a youthful appearance no matter what, but the shadows clung to the hollows of his cheeks, the curve of his chin; they deepened the brown of his eyes and left Aubrey feeling unmoored. He didn’t know what to do with the feelings sparking in his belly, but he hadn’t the time to explore them now.

“You’ll need it,” Aubrey said as he dropped the amulet into Calix’s hand. The weight of the stone probably felt like an anvil; it usually did to first-timers until they adjusted to the overwhelming magic in the Collectio. “Normally I’d set up all the wards but we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

“I know. Apologies. All this…strange magic has me uneasy,” Calix replied, ducking his head to drop the amulet over it.

“Not at all. You’re right to be suspicious.” Aubrey wasn’t beyond magnanimity, even though his hunch had been correct. “And now that you’re settled we can go forth.”

The thrill that traced a fingernail down his spine was present every time he opened these doors, but Aubrey felt a distinct lack in the air as the magically concealed doors silently slid open. As if the Collectio itself knew something was wrong.

Aubrey was split between caution and excitement — whatever this item was, it was incredibly well-protected. In the few seconds he’d been gifted, Aubrey had seen thousands of patterns latched, lacework and delicately complicated, around, through, across, and over each other until they became one near-solid mass. An impossible feat of patterning.

But maybe not for Ethaniel.

“Wait here,” Aubrey said as they stepped into pitch-black. It was clearly off-putting to the others, as Ethaniel closed his eyes and waited while Calix stared around, mouth agape.

Aubrey smiled slightly. He loved showing off the Collectio. Visitors were so few and far between. But Ethaniel could sum it up better. “Ethaniel, could you regale our friend here with how this works, while I get us up and running?”

“Of course, Aubrey.”

Ethaniel’s knowing smirk clearly caught Calix’s attention, so Aubrey took his leave. The electrical panel didn’t need to be started, as their end goal was the far back workroom. So Aubrey started up the gas lights, the flicker and hiss of flames not enough to cover up Ethaniel’s rapid discussion of the building’s patterns.

Ethaniel would know. He helped build them.

Ethaniel Harkness was a part of the infamous Harkness family, very well-known in magical circles for having some of the most intelligent, skilled, and ruthless magic users in history. The family had long split off into sects, but Ethaniel’s father had been born in the wilderness of middle America and hadn’t known his family history until he was nearly an adult. So he’d told Ethaniel from a young age about their ancestors and living relatives — who to avoid, who to trust — and what to do if Ethaniel showed the slightest sign of magic. Go to your Uncle Jeremiah, Ethaniel had told Aubrey over wine and bread while they caught their breath; careful to not drop red on their cooling skin or the floor. He’ll set you on the right path, show you London and England and everything you need to keep yourself you, Ethaniel. To stay true to who you are and not be seduced by power, so you can remain loyal to morals and ethics.

Aubrey let out a sigh as the last gas lamp flickered to life and the memory faded. He had work to do and distractions were controllable. And he could speak to Ethaniel privately after this was done.

Calix and Ethaniel were looking around as Aubrey returned to them. Now with the gas lighting their way, one could make out what looked like an office and a library had become some kind of strange hydra — rows and rows of desks, pin neat, flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookcases that went up…and up…and up. Technically there was no limit to the bookshelves, but they hadn’t come close to pushing the bounds of the spell, even as the Collectio’s artifact storage had been in demand of late. Too many Victorian explorers had thought the Collectio would be interested in magical tomes and scrolls, statues and amulets, jewels and containers stolen from other parts of the world. Part of the Collectio’s job was to see these items returned to their owners.

Most people wanted their items back, of course, but every now and then the item would come back with the emissary and they’d have to work with it, from cleaning and repairing to deactivating any dangerous wards or patterns. Then came cataloging, studying, and sometimes experimentation (nothing permanent, mind you) to gain a better understanding of the item’s makeup.

“The Magnificus Collectio is this world’s largest storage and study facility of magical items,” Aubrey said as he returned. “It is a modern-day Library of Alexandria for magic.”

Calix held up a finger. “I’m sorry…this world’s?”

“Caught that, did you?” Ethaniel replied lightly as he walked toward Aubrey. “He won’t tell me what it means either, but I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who heard it.”

Hoping, daring that he wasn’t completely out of line, Aubrey slid closer to Ethaniel and smiled down at him. A real smile, not that mask he wore to placate. “And I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” he said to them both. And then he ducked his head and whispered, “Unless you’re very, very good. Then I’ll think about it.”

Aubrey didn’t give Ethaniel time to react. He straightened and motioned them both forward. “Come, gentlemen. Let’s see what your magical item has to offer.”

Further back into the Collectio was the restoration room. The floor was plain concrete, the walls painted stark white and lined with thin lead plates. It gave the room a disjointed look, like a quilt made with a beginner’s skill. But it served their purposes well.

Aubrey shut the doors behind them and activated the panel for the electric lights, which generated a low hum. Aubrey watched Calix wrinkle his nose at the sound. “You get used to it,” he said to Calix as he pulled out his tool kit from underneath the massive table in the middle of the room.

“I’ve always been a little…sensitive,” Calix admitted. His big brown eyes appeared hooded as he stood on the edge of the circle of light. Aubrey was intrigued by the way those eyes narrowed, almost cat-like, as Calix visually inspected the table.

“My sister was that way,” Ethaniel replied as he moved to the right-hand side of the table. “Light bothered her more than sound, though.”

Aubrey let the comment hang, choosing to focus on his supplies. It wasn’t a cruelty, and Ethaniel wouldn’t see his silence as such. Aubrey knew that story, too; about a sad little girl whose eyes saw a bit too much of the world. Whose magic never stabilized. Who disappeared on her tenth birthday, with no trace left behind. Not even a piece of clothing or bit of hair. Ethaniel’s father buried Maria’s doll behind the family home and never spoke of her again.

“You’re welcome to stay there, if it’s easier for you,” Aubrey said as he unrolled the leather pouch. At first glance, it might appear like a chiseler’s tool belt, all sharp blades and hooked picks, along with a pair of black velvet gloves. “The velvet helps disperse the magic,” Aubrey explained. “The lead plates on the walls catch anything errant and trap it until it can be released safely. Keep your amulets on and you should be perfectly fine.”

Ethaniel nodded but Calix bit his lip. He lingered, long-limbed and wraithlike, on the precipice of the circle of light, his hands balled at his sides. “How do I give you the book?”

Aubrey had suspected the item was a book, but he purposefully hadn’t asked as to not cloud his judgment any further. A shaky tendril of trepidation was slowly winding its way along his spine since the park, but a book he could handle. Magical books were the bread and butter of the Collectio’s business, after all. Paper was easy to enchant, easy to destroy, and commonly accessible. Paper was what every blossoming magic user practiced on.

He could handle a book, even one so heavily patterned.

“Calix,” Aubrey said. The younger man snapped to attention. “I want you to simply take the book out of the bag and lay it on the table, then step back. That’s it.”

“Easy enough,” Ethaniel said softly, putting a hand on Calix’s shoulder. “I’m here, Calix.”

If only that hand would be so gentle with me again, Aubrey thought, biting back his jealousy. There was no time to be so…absurd. Aubrey motioned to the table, then held his breath while Calix unlatched his satchel and pulled out the book.

Aubrey drunk in the sight of the book. The size of a journal and practically coated in silver foil. It was both pristine and had the appearance of something one could find in a higher-end bookstore, where foil-stamped covers were made by hand, with great care.

And to the naked eye, there was nothing remarkable about the damn thing.

Calix suddenly flinched, reeling back. Ethaniel caught him by the shoulders, pulling him close.

“What happened?” Ethaniel asked.

“It spoke again,” Calix replied, his voice gone hoarse, as if he’d been shouting for hours.

Aubrey quickly pulled on his gloves and pried a small hook from his kit. “Be on alert, both of you.” Ethaniel made to pull Calix back into the shadows, but Aubrey shook his head. “I need you close, Calix. If the book has already formed a bond with you—”

“A bond?” Calix sounded alarmed and his wide eyes flared even wider.

“Aubrey, he has no idea what’s going on,” Ethaniel said as he tightened his grip on Calix’s shoulders. Calix was half a head shorter than either of them, but in Ethaniel’s hold, Calix looked even smaller. Ethaniel had long-fingered, broad hands that seemed to wrap all the way around Calix’s bony shoulders, his tawny skin almost golden in the dim light outside the examination table.

“The book clearly has an affinity for you, Mr. Addington,” Aubrey explained, his patience waning. If the book was a danger to the populace, he would have felt it, or the wards would have gone off, or any one of the Collectio’s fail safes would have alerted him. But instead of anything he’d expected, the book — whatever, or whoever, it was — had latched onto Calix.

“I don’t want it to,” Calix said, his breathing now faster. “I never asked for that!”

Ethaniel gave Aubrey a dark look of warning. It should have held him back, but it only spurred him on. “Then we’ll attempt to break the affinity. That’s what it’s called: affinity. Intelligent and sentient objects sometimes seek it out.”

“Aubrey.” There was that look again, his former lover trying to pin Aubrey down with a glare.

Curiosity was the thing that would kill him eventually. Aubrey was sure of it. But he wasn’t planning on dying tonight. He needed more insight into this affinity between the book and Calix, to at least put it into stasis while he took the case to Magnus—

“Convergence.” Calix swallowed hard, then gave Aubrey a look. “That’s what it said. Again.”

“Unexpected,” Aubrey replied slowly as he leaned over the book. “That’s not a normal reaction.”

Ethaniel gave a forced chuckle. “Only you would have a mental catalog of what’s considered ‘normal’ for an intelligent object.”

“There’s no normal here.” Aubrey hovered his gloved hand over the book. “But I have to ask a favor, Ethaniel.”

“Anything.”

Something burrowed far down in Aubrey’s heart awoke at that one word. “Use my monocle while I work with the book and tell me what you see.” When Ethaniel didn’t reply, Aubrey looked up. “You can see more than I can with patterns. The book is drowning in them and your patterning control is nearly impenetrable.” Aubrey ignored the look of awe on Calix’s face to add, “And I don’t want to be caught in some siren’s trap.”

“Of course.” Ethaniel let go of Calix long enough to step forward and reach across the table. Aubrey fished the monocle’s bag out of his jacket, gave it to Ethaniel, and then waved him away once more.

When Ethaniel had the monocle affixed to his right eye, Aubrey took a deep breath and reached for the book’s front cover. The creak of pristine binding was the only sound in the room, other than Calix’s rapid breathing.

“Try to breathe evenly, Mr. Addington” Aubrey said quietly. “I’m afraid you’ll faint.” And Aubrey set to work.

He knew what Calix and Ethaniel saw — a tall, proud man in an impeccable suit placing his hands on the spread pages of a…

…curiously blank book.

Aubrey felt deflated for a moment. Well, if it wasn’t going to let him have its secrets, he’d just have to pry them out. This wasn’t his first stubborn artifact. He slid his hands off the book, placing them on either side of the gilt edges, and looked up at the two men. Specifically at Calix. “I can assure you, Mr. Addington, that you’re perfectly safe,” Aubrey said, watching with silent glee how Ethaniel sucked in a breath. That dark tone always did something to Ethaniel.

Aubrey pushed his power into the stone table. Into the glass-smooth surface and then further in, past layers upon layers of sediment, down crooked tunnels and through swerving channels. He felt every pebble, every chip, every smooth corner leading into tight paths that took him to the edges of the stone and out. To bounce off the lead panels that only reflected that power back, magnifying his abilities to mend into something more.

It had been an accident the first time this had happened. Now, with a decade at the Collectio under his belt, Aubrey knew where to push, where to pull, and when to pull back. He understood his power on an intrinsic level, down to the molecule, the atom. On a plane beyond thought and recognition, out past the point of return for many magic users.

He did not follow in his family’s footsteps, healing the sick and delivering babies and mending broken bones. He could see magical objects on a level unparalleled with reality. To mend, you had to understand an object, how its parts fit together. How those parts were made.

This book, paper and board, velvet and ink, foil and cloth? It was unlike anything he’d ever laid hands upon. Aubrey knew he had to go deeper.

He would be glowing now, a soft cobalt that bled into green. His eyes, like glass so many said, would be blank. But the third eye on his forehead would be glowing, beckoning. Aubrey couldn’t see Calix and Ethaniel, but he could feel them, that presence, those heartbeats. Rapid but steady, one a little faster, a little louder.

Calix reacting to him. To his magic.

Ethaniel had called him a torch. Warm and safe, golden and glowing. That comment had lit Aubrey up from the inside, and did to this day. For so long he’d been a lighthouse. A warning about magic mutating in families. A warning about being different and difficult.

You’re supposed to stay away from lighthouses. They mean danger. A light flashed in the dark, in hopes of preventing tragedy.

Would Calix see a lighthouse, or a torch?

Something new is here.

The voice rang in Aubrey’s head, turning him into a clapper inside a bronze bell. He pushed back, feeling for grips inside the stone. The stone yielded so easily, but that…voice stopped him cold. Aubrey’s power stayed put, no further progress was made.

The stone helped cycle his power, tap into a thread of it inside him that was so rarely tugged on. No one understood why him, why this big hunk of unnamed black stone. Whywhywhywhy. He’d let all that go to learn how to use the stone, to make it his. And this thing had stopped him dead in his tracks.

You’re not the other one.

You found a path through.

Who are you?

Aubrey stood on the edge of some black oblivion and wondered if there were teeth below. He could see everything. Nothing. He existed and didn’t. He became, he unraveled.

Aubrey was suddenly, sickeningly thrown back into his own body, his own mind, aware of nothing and everything at the same time. His head swam with it all, so much that he wondered if he was drowning.

“Aubrey!”

Aubrey blinked and then there was Ethaniel, all wavy brown hair a few inches too long and his brow beaded with sweat. Big hazel eyes flared wide in worry. Day old stubble on his jaw, framing Ethaniel’s perfect lips.

I should have told you before, Ethaniel. Everything about how I feel.

Regret ate alive at him again, like a freshly uncorked horror burrowing into his heart. It made Aubrey forget how much being thrust out of an object’s aura hurt. Ethaniel’s magic was a cool breeze on his skin, gentle but persistent. The pattern Ethaniel had used glowed on Aubrey’s jacket —a simple thing, something Ethaniel always had on hand, but it was welcomed all the same.

“Here.” Slender, pale hands thrust a teacup full of water under Aubrey’s nose. “You should probably drink that.”

Aubrey’s gaze dropped to the blue and white teacup before taking it with a slow nod. “Is this…” His vision was still hazy, little bits of it floating in and out of darkness. “I think this is Alon’s.”

“Oh, Aubrey,” Ethaniel whispered as he sat down near Aubrey’s knee. They were on the floor. No wonder his back ached. “Can you tell me your name?”

Aubrey scoffed, but there was no heart in it. “Don’t patronize me, Ethaniel.” He sipped at the water, which was cold and clear and felt like an oasis in his throat. “I’m fine.”

“You look…” Calix came into view, kneeling at Aubrey’s feet. A man who looked like that, wearing expensive silks and brocades, sitting on the cold floor and looking at Aubrey with deep concern. “I don’t know.”

“Distant.” Ethaniel’s tone was like thunder in Aubrey’s ears.

“Maybe I am a bit dizzy,” Aubrey admitted.

“You sound not like yourself.” Ethaniel took the cup from Aubrey’s now-cold fingers. “How do you feel?”

“Strange,” Aubrey said before everything went black.