The Courtship of Julian St. Albans Read online

  “I’d love a coffee,” said Jacques quite sincerely. “I don’t suppose it’s in there?” he asked, pointing to the heavily-warded Agency building.

  “Nope,” said Alex, pointing the other way. “D’you want anything, Jones?”

  “I’ll park the car in the Agency garage and join you,” said Jones affably; he got on with James and Jacques like a house on fire, and was even starting to get used to Alex’s sense of humour. “I can sit and read in the shop as easily as the car, just text me when you’re on your way down.”

  “We’ll get a booth, then,” said Jacques, and they all piled out and into the coffee shop. Their clientele was more than half Agents anyway, so Alex always got a sense of safety there despite the lack of any warding or protection spells fancier than a no-burn on the grill and no-spill on the coffee pots.

  They were seated in the four-person booth he usually claimed with Lapointe, which meant Alex was a bit more crowded than he was used to, sitting protected between the two Guardians. “Breathing is not going to kill me, you know,” teased Alex, when he realised they were both trying to leave room for Jones.

  “Oh!” laughed Jacques. “I’ll scoot, sorry.”

  They got themselves rearranged, and then Jones came in and had to do a little dance of, “No, after you,” with the waitress who was coming to take their orders.

  “You’ve got a whole crowd of big strong men this time,” said the waitress, whose name Alex had pointedly never learned. “But I prefer the moody poet sort.”

  “So many women do,” said Jones, with what seemed like genuine regret.

  “Coffee all around?” she asked, eyes only for Alex, much to his chagrin.

  “Yes, please,” said Alex.

  “I’ll get that while you figure out if you’re eating,” she teased. “You’re skin and bones, you ought to let me fatten you up a bit.”

  Alex slumped when she left, while the other men at the table chuckled. “It’s not my fault!” he lamented.

  “What’s good here?” asked Jones, and the he paused and added, “Besides the waitress, I mean.”

  Alex gave him a glare. “Just for that I should recommend the porridge.”

  They laughed again, and Alex joined in, finding it somehow comforting that at least it wasn’t his imagination that she made eyes at him. They talked about food until the coffee came, then ordered, Alex getting a bagel and egg sandwich and a third cinnamon roll for the day. The Guardians got similarly substantial snacks, as they expended a great deal of energy keeping on the lookout for magical as well as mundane attacks, and Jones got a slice of pie.

  They talked about the attacks while they ate, though Alex couldn’t give them all the details since it was an active case and Jones, at least, was a civilian. The waitress refilled them several times, then sauntered over and asked if he was ready for the check when the other three had been finished eating for a good ten minutes.

  “One more round?” Alex asked, though he was already late enough he had at least one voicemail he was ignoring.

  “Of course, for the road?” she asked.

  He gave her a grateful smile and tried very hard not to flirt. “That would be perfect, thank you,” he said simply.

  She seemed to find even that encouraging, and Alex finally gave up on it. Lapointe could perhaps tell him how to not be an arse about it later, or maybe she’d just give him crap. At least he was growing used to the crap.

  He sighed and finished his last few bites of bagel and egg sandwich, and even forced down the second half of his cinnamon roll in huge, ungraceful mouthfuls while he waited. He was licking icing from his fingers when the waitress returned with three steaming to-go cups and the pot for Jones. Alex was appalled to see her blush.

  “Oh, erm, thank you. The check, please?” asked Alex, using his napkin and a bit of water to get off the rest of the icing from his hands and face. He wondered how a woman could possibly consider it flirting for a man to have sticky white stuff all over himself, but then, he often wondered how women could misinterpret his intentions.

  Perhaps once this was all over, he’d make himself some sort of charmed ring that could be worn on his left hand, so they’d think he was merely creepy.

  Alex sipped his coffee and sighed; it was made just as he liked it, and he felt like a bastard for wishing she’d never noticed. When she brought the bill he left her the exact tip Lapointe would have, reassured Jones that he’d cover anything else the driver bought, and escaped feeling like the world’s worst queer.

  “Why do women always fancy the gay ones?” asked Smedley, pushing off the wall of the building outside.

  “Oh, god, if you ever figure it out, please tell me how to make it stop,” said Alex miserably.

  James and Jacques laughed. “Don’t worry, we get our fair share, too, and we’re famously celibate,” said James.

  “It actually gets worse once they realise,” said Jacques glumly.

  They all laughed at that, and a strange sort of lamentation over women took them to the evidence lab. “You’ve got two hours, and neither of them are to touch anything unless it tries to bite,” said Smedley, gesturing to the table where all the evidence Alex had requested was laid out for him to examine. “And they’re insisting on proper gloves.”

  “Sir, yes, sir,” said Alex wryly. “Let’s check in the few things I brought, first.”

  James brought over the box, but everything inside had stayed inert and was easily bagged and tagged. Alex did request that the two keys be destroyed at the end of the case, since they were still attuned to him and his flat, but the rest he was happy to give up including the single segment of scorpion tail that had slipped past their radar the night before.

  “I really hope these little nasties can’t put themselves back together,” said Smedley, locking it up into a smaller version of the magic-proof boxes, one similar in function to James’ little box, but devoid of artistry.

  “You and me both,” said Alex quite sincerely. “Two hours?”

  “Armistead will be back from his meeting by five,” said Smedley, pointing to the clock that read 3:08. “If you don’t want another pissing match, you’ll be hiding in Lapointe’s office by then.”

  Alex laughed. “You know me too well,” he said, giving Smedley a wink and going over to the table, already moving into the mental space where nothing mattered but magic.

  “I’m learning,” said Smedley gruffly, and if he said anything else, Alex was too distracted to hear.

  Alex put on the proper gloves and snuck his watch fob into the palm of one, beneath the latex. He took a deep breath, then pinched the tines of his tuning fork to set it vibrating and got to work. He pulled things out and listened to every nuance of their magic, signing and re-sealing the bags one at a time, methodical and thorough. There was something here, something he’d missed that was niggling at his subconscious, and he was determined to suss it out.

  He had to pinch the fork several more times before he got through the pile, but by the end of the pile he nearly had it. “Bring me the box with the scorpion piece?” he asked of no one in particular.

  It was put in Alex’s hand, and he responded with a distracted, “Thanks.” He pulled out the little segment and struck the tuning fork this time, listening, deconstructing, going deep into the residual magic of the thing until, there, yes, he finally got it. He tossed it back into the box, snapped the lid shut and opened his eyes, only to find Armistead standing in front of him, arms crossed and radiating displeasure.

  Alex took a moment to re-seal the box and sign that he’d been the one to open it, then he turned and smiled benignly at Armistead. “May I help you?”

  “Get out,” said Armistead, “and take those ridiculous bodyguards with you.”

  James and Jacques bristled, but didn’t say anything. Alex sighed and stood, stretching. “We were done, anyway, thank you for pulling the evidence for me.”

  “I did it at the request of the agent in charge,” retorted Armistead, not moving
an inch, even when Alex deliberately stepped into his personal space on his way toward the door.

  Jacques and James fell into step with him, and Alex paused at the threshold. “I’ll thank Agent Smedley again, then,” said Alex serenely, finding it easy to ignore Armistead’s hostility for once. Besides, maturity always annoyed Armistead more than sniping back.

  It was the little things, really.

  CHAPTER 19

  In Which There is Progress, Magic, and Mayhem

  They had another quiet evening in, during which Alex spent time with the new plants in his work room, then emerged to fulfil a surprising request from his Guardians. Jacques made his own special blend of spiced drinking chocolate and fresh scones, and Alex played his perfectly unmagical concert flute for them. They decided on early bed, Alex finally seeing the cot set up right across the front door before he vanished into his rooms to meditate a little more on the facts of the case.

  Mixed in with the fading, insect-like buzz of the dead artificer’s magic, and the dark dissonance that ran the murderous constructs, Alex had detected a third, faint signature. After ruminating on it for the past few hours in the back of his mind, Alex brought it back to the forefront again, that little snippet of cut-off melody. It seemed familiar, not only the signature itself but the way it was incomplete and barely-there, like it was only a part of a larger whole.

  That was it — the third person hadn’t made the items, but donated ingredients, the same way Lapointe’s amulet sounded mostly like Alex’s magic with little half-heard motifs of Lapointe from the hair and smoke she’d contributed to the mix.

  Alex sent her a quick text, and finally let himself drop off to sleep.

  ~ ~ ~

  In the morning, he had two annoyed texts from Lapointe telling him it was totally unfair to suggest there were even more suspects and still have no idea who anyone was. Alex ignored this and shuffled out toward the lovely smell of tea and breakfast, this time bacon sandwiches and fruit salad courtesy of the wonderful Jacques.

  “Are you sure I can’t lure you away from your dangerous life into becoming my kept boy and cook?” said Alex, slumped over the table and trying to use his magic powers to put the caffeine from his teacup into his bloodstream. When that didn’t work, he sat up and took a nice, big gulp of liquid and then tried to stay vertical.

  “As flattering as that is,” said Jacques, sounding amused, “I’m afraid the Temple will always win.”

  Alex sighed dramatically. “I suppose you have already seen me naked, so I can’t sway you that way, either.”

  They all laughed at that, and then breakfast was ready and they set to. James had contributed again with fresh bread for the sandwiches and a box of sugary puff pastries that weren’t really breakfast food, but were definitely gone by the time breakfast was done.

  Alex took himself off to claim the shower — the Guardians had showered before Alex was even awake — and then emerged in his casual-work clothes of black trousers and an open-necked shirt, sleeves rolled up and feet bare. “I’ll be in my work room until lunch, if you two need to go anywhere,” he said, feeling a guilty surge of relief at the idea of being alone in his flat. “The wards in there are very thorough.”

  “So we’ve observed,” said James from where he’d been playing some sort of solitaire puzzle game at the coffee table. “We might go check in, if you promise not to leave the flat.”

  “Pinky swear,” said Alex. “Knock if you need me, or text, the phone works unless I go into the isolation cupboard.”

  “You actually made an isolation cupboard?” asked Jacques, looking intrigued.

  Alex nodded. “I needed it for some fertility charms. I took orders for three to be made at once, which paid for the extra effort.”

  “May I see it sometime?” asked Jacques, eagerly polite.

  Alex grinned. “Yeah, sure, but after I’ve gotten some work done today,” he said. “If you get curry, I want it extra spicy.”

  “Will do,” said James, standing, puzzle bits left where they were. “When does your cleaning service come?”

  Alex blinked and tried to orient himself to the days and weeks since she’d last come. “God, no idea, I’ll call them when I’m done. I suspect me being in a coma might have thrown off the schedule.”

  “Make sure we’re here,” was all James said, and then they waved awkward good-byes and Alex disappeared into his work room and just took a moment to breathe in the solitude.

  Then he pushed off the door and got to work.

  ~ ~ ~

  Alex was just putting the finishing touches on Julian’s gift when there was a knock at the door. “Curry’s here!” called James.

  “Five more minutes!” said Alex, glad the actual magic bits were done. He’d never have even noticed the knock, otherwise.

  A bit more fiddling, and he was satisfied with what he’d wrought. He just hoped Julian would be as impressed with it as he was impressed with himself for thinking of it, and he cleaned up before emerging into the living room, where he could smell a whole plethora of wonderful Indian food.

  “Ooh, that’s just what I was hoping for, did you get lots?” said Alex, stomach already growling.

  “Lots, with extra sweets, you’ve got PT this afternoon,” said Jacques, who was serving up platefuls in the kitchen.

  “Ugh,” said Alex. “Torture and more torture, and horrid restorative potions.”

  “You’ll live,” teased James, who was making sure they all had a to-go cup of hot chai.

  “Ooh, you did go all out,” said Alex, sitting and snagging a piece of naan bread. “Do you need me to pay for some of this?”

  “No, no, the Temple covers our upkeep,” said James. “We visited with our superiors again, and they’re convinced you’ll need watching over until the Mandeville case is solved.”

  “If that means more of Jacques’ cooking, I may never solve it,” teased Alex, digging into the food.

  Lunch passed congenially, with them chatting about the living arrangements to make sure the Guardians were comfortable but not interfering with Alex’s life. Alex was so full of curry and sweets and tea that he was almost not resentful when he was carted off to PT. He’d even grown so used to the cane by now that it was almost an extension of him, the thrum of its magic soothing as he sat toying with it in the car.

  “Had a nice morning, sir?” asked Jones as they settled in for the ride.

  “I’ve finally gotten my next gift ready for young Julian. Will you be available to pick him up next Friday?” asked Alex, curious.

  “Of course, sir, Mr. Benedict has given your needs precedence for the duration of the courtship. He tells me young Sharpish is learning quickly.”

  Alex chuckled. “I suppose that’s better than nothing,” he said, well used to the hidden insults in Victor’s compliments, even the ones not directed at him.

  Jones chuckled with him, and they made their way to the hospital in companionable silence, the Guardians guarding, driver driving and Alex once again turning the pieces of the Mandeville case over in his mind, trying to make them fit into a pattern that made sense.

  ~ ~ ~

  “I hate this part of a case,” said Alex later, at home with his Guardians. They’d decided on tea and fresh-baked scones for tonight’s late-night snack, and Alex had claimed the couch for dramatic lounging while the Guardians each took a chair, the three of them playing a rather halfhearted game of gin.

  “What part?” asked James obligingly.

  “Where I’ve looked at all the evidence there is and given all my insights to the Agency and I have to wait for one of them to be brilliant or for more things to look at,” said Alex. He took the King that Jacques laid down and discarded a Jack.

  “The waiting is always the worst,” agreed James, picking up the Jack and laying down gin.

  Alex laughed. “You’ve wanted that Jack since the start of the game, I guess, did you know I had it?”

  “I had a suspicion,” said James with a chuckle. “You
r poker face is terrible.”

  “It’s the ennui,” said Alex dramatically.

  His swoon was interrupted by his phone ringing. He fished it out of his pocket, saw Lapointe’s name on the screen and answered. “This is Alex,” he said, feeling a small surge of foreboding.

  “It’s Lapointe,” she said, then there was a pause. “There’s been another incident.”

  “Not Julian?” said Alex, sitting up and feeling a real clutch of fear.

  “No, though we suspect someone else has been hit. Another of the things activated in the evidence lab and this time… Well, Geoff was passing by in the hallway. He’s en route to your Dr. Chesterfield now.”

  “How is he?” asked Alex, pleased to see the Guardians already cleaning up and getting ready to go out. “Should we visit?”

  “We need you here, he’ll be in Healing half the night. There was a lot of blood loss, though we managed to smash it before it got anything vital.” She chuckled. “Smedley remembered what you said about cold iron and got it with a fire extinguisher.”

  “And someone remembered to salt the wounds, to break the spell,” said Alex, feeling relieved that at least they listened to him when it was important, this time.

  “That was Geoff, who actually had some on him. He’s been carrying it around in case another one got out,” said Lapointe with a dark, wry chuckle.

  Alex chuckled back. “Well, I’m sure he’s glad he did,” he said. “I have to call Jones back to get us, my Guardians won’t let me take a cab, but we’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  “Be careful, we still don’t know what brought this one to life, and there’s still a couple here in storage that are intact enough to do some damage.”

  “Yes, Mom,” said Alex, and hung up. “We’re needed at the Agency. Dr. Tamlinson, Geoff, he got in the way of another of those insect-things.”

  “Never wish for more excitement,” said Jacques solemnly.

  Alex sighed. “When you’re right, you’re right,” he said, dialling poor Jones and already planning to stop off for coffee somewhere.