The Courtship of Julian St. Albans (24 page)

“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. “Your 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.

It was going to be a long
night.

~ ~ ~

The Agency building was buzzing like an angry
wasps’ nest when they arrived, now that one of their own had actually been
injured. Jacques was elected to run in and get coffees, while Alex and James
were taken down into the relative safety of the parking garage before Alex was
let out.

Smedley was actually in the lobby waiting for
them when they emerged, and he’d already vouched for Jacques and claimed a
coffee from the tray the diner had let him borrow. “I’m starting to get
what Lapointe sees in you,” said Smedley, sipping his coffee with a smirk.

“It’s certainly not my creamy
mounds,” said Alex dryly, taking the coffee Jacques handed him with a
quiet thanks.

Smedley chuckled and led them to the elevator,
while James and Jacques exchanged slightly confused looks. Smedley took that as
his cue to tell the whole story from curse to creamy mounds, and as they made
their way to Smedley’s office for briefing, Jacques said, “His bottom is
quite pale and pert, I must admit.”

Alex groaned as Smedley’s
grin widened. “Pale and pert, hm?”

James shot Jacques an amused look. “Now,
now,” he said, in a tone of mock reprimand, “you know we’re not to
reveal our clients’ secrets.”

“It wasn’t a secret,” said Jacques,
grinningly unrepentant. “Now they just have more adjectives.”

“You suck,” said Alex, but he was
grinning as he did, holding the door for Jacques and his tray.

“No, I’m
celibate,” said Jacques.

They all shared a good, heartening laugh, and
then they got down to business. Lapointe was at the hospital waiting for news
on Geoff, and once word got out there was good coffee available in Smedley’s
office, it was easy enough to get anyone who’d been working at the time in to
talk to them. Alex was putting off going to the lab as long as possible, and
not just because he’d been assured Armistead was the one handling everything.

Smedley’s phone rang. He showed them all Lapointe’s
caller ID, and there were a few tense moments of silence while they all waited
to hear the news.

Smedley hung up, and then grinned hugely.
“Geoff’s fine, lots of stitches but no permanent damage, and his doctor
thinks he can keep it from scarring too much as long as our doctor follows his
healing regimen.”

Everyone looked pointedly at
Alex.

“Hey, I’ve been doing my PT!” he
protested, waving his fancy cane at the lot of them.

“You’ve also been tiring yourself out
doing magic on top of your healing,” said James helpfully.

Everyone laughed at that, and Alex sighed and
stood up, leaning heavily on his cane as he did so. “If there’s another
coffee left, I’m claiming it, as I’m about to go do a bit more of that.
Smedley, will you come so I don’t put this through Armistead’s foot by
accident?” he asked aggrievedly, waggling the cane with its shiny steel
tip.

“Oh, yes,” said Smedley with a
chuckle. “And your two shadows, of course.”

“Of course,” said Jacques, handing
them each a cup of coffee. “That’s the last of it, so don’t spill,”
he teased.