The Courtship of Julian St. Albans (18 page)

“You’re finally going to get some use,
Horace,” said Alex, stroking the bird’s metal breast. “I bet you get
bored, in that cage all day.”

It stroked its head against his hand, and he
could hear the magic inside it conveying a sort of affection to its creator. He
opened the door in its breast and slipped the folded note inside, then closed
it up and gave its head another stroke. “Can you still read
addresses?”

It made a little metallic chirping sound, and
gave him a reproachful look.

He chuckled. “Sorry for doubting
you,” he said, taking it to the window. “I’ll see you soon, all
right?”

It chirped again, then launched itself into the
sky with all the grace of a real bird, for all that it was animated and buoyed
by magic.

Alex sighed, shut the window, and got ready for
as much sleep as he could manage before someone demanded his day begin.

~ ~ ~

Victor woke Alex at an ungodly hour, to tell
him the driver would be there in half an hour to take him on the errands he’d
totally forgotten he still needed to do. Alex groaned and levered himself out
of bed, promising his body a nap later while he took a quick shower and dressed
in the easiest of his new clothes, the black suit from the Courtship banquet
with a crisp white shirt rather than the black one he’d worn that night. He was
just adjusting his cravat when the driver rang up, and he barely remembered to
grab both coats — one for cleaning, one for tailoring — on his way out and
down the stairs.

“Your coffee, sir,” said Jones,
handing him a steaming cup and taking both coats, making a face at the state of
the bloodied one.

Alex blinked, then took a sip. “Wow, you
really are good,” he said. “Cleaners first, I think, I usually use
Bradford’s over on Second, they’re used to me.”

“Very good, sir,” said Jones, and for
a moment Alex wondered if he was being corrected until he realised it was just
bland agreement.

Alex chuckled and slipped into the warm limo
and drank his hot coffee and tried to feel properly human. He found that the
little luxuries really did help, when you’d had as little rest as he had.

Then he wondered if his convictions were
failing him as he got older, and found he really hadn’t had enough caffeine to
care.

A few minutes later the car stopped and the
door opened. “Did you wish to go into the cleaners yourself, sir?”
asked Jones, obviously finding the very idea gauche.

“Of course,” said Alex, relishing the
familiar disapproval and the rebelliousness that still rose up in him.
“I’ll only be a moment.”

He got out while Jones retrieved the coat for
him, then Alex took it inside and got a warm greeting from Mrs. Bradford.
“There’s more blood than usual this time, can you save it?” he asked,
laying the coat on the counter and pulling yet more things out of the pockets,
the result of a long habit of trying to have everything on hand he might
possibly want.

“You’ve gone and let it dry, haven’t
you?” she said, tutting as she examined the smudged and stained coat.
“Well, we’ll see what we can do, black hides any number of sins, doesn’t
it, dearie?”

Alex laughed. “I thought it just made me
look dashing,” he said, posing in his new finery.

“Bit posh for a detective, I should
think,” she said, but he could tell she appreciated the fine fabrics and
excellent tailoring.

“I’m Courting a young
man, I’ve got to go posh,” he said with a sigh.

She giggled. “Oh, you aristos and your
traditions,” she said, flapping her hands at him. “You go on, I’ll
have it done tomorrow or not, as the case may be.”

“You’re a doll,” he said, kissing her
cheek and pocketing his possessions as best he could; it was rather a lot for
the slim lines of the suit. She bustled into the back with his coat and he made
it back to the limo without dropping anything, and they were off to what he was
sure Victor considered a proper tailor to have his good coat made wearable.

Alex was tut-tutted over at the tailor’s, but
they marked up his coat and promised to have it ready within the week, so he
considered that a win and had Jones take him somewhere he could eat. He almost
vetoed it when they pulled up to a very nice hotel with a four-star restaurant,
but he figured they’d have something with eggs in it and let himself be ushered
inside by the doorman.

He even tipped.

“I have not had enough sleep for
this,” said Alex, somehow unsurprised to find Victor at a table with tea
already waiting.

“Nonsense, it’s a
perfectly reasonable hour,” said Victor.

Alex rolled his eyes. “I was working until
dawn, Victor,” he said impatiently, though he sat and poured himself tea
anyway, adding extra milk and sugar just to annoy his brother.

“Ah, that consulting thing you do,”
said Victor, making a face. “Well, at least it’s brought you back to us
now.”

“For now,” corrected Alex, ordering a
hot breakfast from the equally hot waiter.

Victor ordered his own breakfast of dry wheat
toast and fruit, and fresh juice for them both. “Nonsense,” he said,
after the waiter had taken his leave. “Once you’ve won the St. Albans boy,
you’ll be a part of society again.”

“You do realise my participation in this
Courtship is about the case, don’t you?” said Alex, taking a sip of his
tea. It was good, and he wondered if it was Victor’s preferred brand or not,
but wasn’t foolish enough to ask.

Victor chuckled. “You can tell yourself
that all you like, but I think we both know you’re growing fond of him, or you
wouldn’t have spent half the ride snogging.”

“Oh, Jones, you
gossip,” said Alex with a laugh. “He’s very snoggable.”

Victor looked annoyingly smug at that, but Alex
was just too tired to bother arguing with him. “I suppose you have some
suggestion for where I should shop to go with the rest of your ridiculous
advice?” asked Alex.

“No, no, though you might consider taking
him somewhere,” Victor made a face, “more on your level, on your next
date.”

“Introduce him to my boring, pedestrian
tastes, you mean?” said Alex with a chuckle. “See if he might enjoy
slumming with me,” he added, though Victor’s suggestion did give him the
germ of an idea.

Victor was saved from answering by the arrival
of their food, and Alex dug in hungrily, ignoring Victor entirely for a few
minutes, until his hunger was at least somewhat satisfied.

Victor nibbled on his toast and fruit and
looked amused at Alex’s hunger. “You always did have that ridiculous
metabolism,” he said, and Alex thought he heard a note of envy under the
carefully cultivated mockery.

“It’s the magic,” said Alex, deciding
to treat Victor like a normal acquaintance for once. It was that, or start
treating him like Armistead, Alex figured. “Burns calories at an amazing
rate, not to mention the irregular hours.”

“Hm,” was all Victor said, and Alex
got the impression he always had, that his family was vaguely ashamed of his
status as a mage.

~ ~ ~

That feeling propelled Alex not to the fancy
shops outside but instead back to the car.

“I’ve changed my mind, I’d like to go to
the Temple of Purification,” he told Jones.

“Very good, sir,”
said Jones, sounding surprised. “Is there some reason?”

Alex chuckled. “I’m still feeling a bit
tainted from the spell that knocked me out last week,” he said wryly,
though in truth he just wanted a bit of peace before he had to dive back into
the confusing whirlwind of his Courtship. Two dates in two days was highly
unusual this early, and Alex expected it would be a few weeks before he got his
third date, the final one of the first round. For all he knew the case would be
solved by then.

He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel trying to
drop out of the Courtship after last night.

When the car dropped him off out front, Alex
got out and shivered a bit in the chill air. “I can just take a cab back,
if you’ve got other duties.”

Jones blinked, then nodded. “Yes, sir, do
call if you need to be picked up,” he said, handing Alex a little card
with the name “Paul Jones” and a phone number on it.

“Ooh, a first
name,” said Alex with a grin.

Jones just rolled his eyes
and closed the car door.

Alex headed into the warm
sanctuary of the Temple.

He was greeted by a friendly acolyte of
indeterminate gender in loose, unbleached cotton robes. “To what do we owe
the honour of this visit, good mage?” asked the youth.

Alex chuckled. “I’m here to do a full
purification, I was cursed last week and I’d like to make sure the magic is
fully purged from my person.”

“You will be able to find some inner peace
as well, I hope,” said the smiling priest who emerged into the foyer
through a side door. “I’ll take care of him, Gregory.”

“Thanks, Master Stephen,” said
Gregory, moving back to his station by the door.

Alex smiled right back. “Stephen, it’s
good to see you. I’m sorry it’s been so long…”

Stephen chuckled. “You say that every
time, my boy,” he said, leading Alex to another door. “Phone off,
now.”

“Yes, yes,” said Alex, pulling it out
and turning it off without another thought. Small electronics didn’t fare well
in the charged air of the Temple.

He never even noticed the message light that
winked out as the phone powered down.

“A full purification, Alex?” asked
Stephen, leading him into a small locker room. Even Temples had to worry about
sticky fingers, and each one had its own little magically-null key on a
wrist-chain.

“I could use some
clarity,” said Alex quietly.

Stephen’s teasing smile softened. “Then
I’ll have a chamber prepared for you, just undress and go through the blue
archway. And stop by my office for tea when you’re done?”

“Same office as always?” asked Alex,
already removing his various personal items and stashing them in the little
silk bag hanging inside the locker.

“You know the
way,” said Stephen, waving vaguely on his way out.

Alex sighed, then finished undressing, socks in
his shoes and suit hung in the locker as neatly as possible, until he was stark
naked and already feeling a draft. He closed up the locker, put the key around
his wrist, and made his way into the first chamber.

The blue tiling on the archway was
unfortunately not to signify a male-only area, but instead an indicator that
the cold bath was first. The pool was bigger and more beautifully decorated
than the one down in the infirmary at the Agency, but it was just as hatefully
cold and salty. Alex sounded a chime before getting in, and it took deep
breaths and a bit of coaxing to force himself under this time, breath held
while he floated weightlessly in the mineral-heavy bath.

He went under half a dozen times total before
the second chime sounded, indicating he’d spent long enough and could move into
the next chamber, a warm shower for rinsing away the residue. He cleaned out
his ears and sinuses as before, but here there was no soap for his shower, just
plenty of warm, pure water.

Another chime sounded just about when Alex was
deciding he could stay there all day, and he reluctantly shut off the water and
padded, wet and still naked, into the third room.

This one had a proper door at either end,
because it was a wood-panelled sauna complete with a brazier of hot rocks. Alex
poured a scoop of herb-laden water onto the rocks and lay back on one of the
wooden benches, breathing in the sharp scent and letting the heat soak into his
bones. He’d always rather liked the way they paced things at the Temple,
sounding chimes to let him know when to move on without him having to talk to
anyone during this part of the process.

He went through three scoops of water total
before the third chime drew him out of the hot room and into yet another
shower. This time they’d provided an herbal soap for him to clean the sweat
off, and a towel dry off when he was done.

He left the chamber naked and damp-headed and
entered a courtyard of sorts, with grass for a floor and a greenhouse-glass
roof in deference to the weather. There were purifying herbs growing along the
wall on all sides, between the many archways leading into the Temple, their
leaves and flowers lending a clean, bright scent to the room. Alex sprawled out
in the centre of the room on his back, limbs splayed, and let his magical
senses awaken.

The room was full of the tiny melodies of plant
life and very little else, so Alex sunk himself deep into the slow-moving song
of the earth below him, grounding himself and his magic. He kept his eyes
closed so the wan winter sunlight fell on his face but didn’t disturb his
thoughts, which drifted with the earth for a long time. Eventually he drew back
inward, listening to his own body’s magic, thoughts slowly coalescing around
the troubles that brought him here.

Namely, one gorgeous, sweet
and loveable Julian St Albans.

Alex allowed himself the luxury of really
imagining what his life might become, were he to marry Julian and take up the
St Albans titles. He would have to learn to manage things, or hire someone
impeccably trustworthy to do it for him, or convince Emmeline to stay on and do
it for them. He would want to continue his work with the Agency — they paid
his fees because there was, literally, no one else who did quite what he did,
and his expertise had only been sharpened over the years of working on magical
crimes. Except he’d also be a master-husband with a consort who needed to be
kept happy, who was interested in the running of the estate itself, who kissed
like a dream and smiled like Alex was amazing and…