Hunter and Morgan: Gatecrasher

by H. K. Nightingale

  "It has to be that one," said Sahil.

  He pointed to a pair of faded crimson curtains which outlined a fake-wooden door. It looked like part of a stage set. Jess went to it immediately. The door opened as soon as she tried the knob, swinging as if it were lighter than the curtains that framed it. She flicked a light switch and went through the door.

  They followed her inside and down a flight of stairs that opened out into a big room.

  Jess sighed. There was everything Caleb had described: big four poster bed, cushions, silk sheets. Except in the harsh strip-lighting it looked tacky and sad. Everything smelled of disinfectant, which was comforting and disturbing all at once. Morgan took a step back and bumped straight into Hunter, who slipped an arm around his middle. Morgan froze. This wasn't Leeds station, or a mostly empty train carriage, or the office, or Hunter's house. Hunter's sister was standing right there and she'd notice any second.

  "There's another door here," Jess said. "Locked. Morgan, d'you think you can charm the caretaker for the key?"

  "I'm not sure," said Morgan. "He seems pretty loyal to his boss."

  "No," snapped Jess. "I don't mean bat your pretty eyelashes at him. I mean charm him. Encanté."

  Hunter laughed. Morgan didn't. Sahil looked very hard at the drapes on the four poster.

  Morgan said, "I don't–"

  Jess looked at Morgan and Hunter. Hunter's arm went very still and heavy on Morgan's belly. "Oh for fuck's sake, Damien," she said. "You don't know he's majos, do you?"

  "What?" said Hunter. His arm dropped away from Morgan.

  "You didn't even do a background check!" Jess said.

  "But you did, Jess," murmured Morgan. He wanted very much for the earth to open up and swallow him.

  "Of course I bloody did! We're trusting you with all kinds of sensitive information. I can't believe he didn't bother."

  Hunter stepped away.

  "You, of all people." Jess shook her head.

  "Excuse me," said Morgan, turning towards the door. "I should probably–"

  Hunter caught him by the arm. "Tell me this is bullshit, Morgan."

  Morgan shook his head. He couldn't trust himself to form words; his stomach was churning and his legs twitching with the need to run.

  "You're a fucking dwimmer?"

  Magic surged through Morgan, every injustice and misunderstanding his magic had ever brought him bright and alive inside of him as happiness slipped through his fingers. It wasn't fire, though. Not this time. There was a mains water pipe beneath them, under the cheap laminate and the floorboards and the hard packed earth. Morgan clenched his fists, clinging to every last shred of control. He had to get out of here. Now.

  He heard Jess say, "What the fuck," as he wrenched his arm from Hunter and ran. Ran out of the dungeon, up the corridor, through the club, out of the reception-that-wasn't, across the car park, kept running down Town Street, feet pounding on the pavement, following his magic to Hall Park. He thundered down narrow paths and finally ducked through an arch in the wall to reach the Japanese Garden. Rocks were arranged on carefully maintained gravel like miniature standing stones. Next to the gravel was a pond, serviced by a little stream with a bridge, the whole area bordered with carefully placed trees and rocks and grass. This was the closest patch of open water his magic could find. He didn't have time to check if he was alone. He held out one hand, gripping his necklace with the other, and his magic burst from him. The shallow water in the pond surged up like a geyser, splashing the whole garden on its way down. Morgan fell to his knees and threw up water, three long, sobbing retches.

  Everything went quiet and he knelt there, gulping in harsh, painful breaths. But the magic was building again. He couldn't stop it. It hurt too much, everything hurt too much. He couldn't think straight.

  A gentle voice behind him said, "Okay, mate. I'm going to ground you now. All right? Just take a deep breath for me."

  Morgan looked over his shoulder through the chaos of tears and panic. He made out familiar features on the face of the man behind him. Thick, worried eyebrows, black hair cut into a short police-cut.

  Sahil put his hand on Morgan's shoulder, and everything went black.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Morgan came round wrapped in an emergency blanket and surrounded by paramedics. Sahil was keeping the public, who were, as always, interested in a spectacle involving someone else's misfortune, at bay. The paramedics took Morgan's pulse and blood pressure, checked out his registration card, measured his esper rating, and let him ring Caleb. Caleb came in a taxi and took him home as soon as the paramedics declared him fit and well. They gave Caleb a load of numbers to call if he blacked out again.

  Caleb didn't ask him what had happened, or what was wrong, although Morgan knew he was desperate to find out. When they got back to the flat Morgan shut himself in his room, crawled under the covers (despite the suffocating heat) and fell asleep.

  He awoke sticky with sweat and threw off the duvet in disgust. Then everything came back to him in a rush, the whole clusterfuck that ended in that single, horrible word that ended everything.

  He rolled over and reached out to his bookshelf. There was a gap between Great Expectations and the B&Q guide to DIY. He went cold all over. Shit. His book was still in his rucksack. In Hunter's office. Locked in what used to be his desk. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  He picked up the nearest book he could reach, which happened to be Forbidden Blood, and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and sank in a sad flutter of pages to land on the floor.

  The door opened and Caleb stood there. "Are you okay? What happened?"

  "My book," Morgan said. Tears stung his face.

  Caleb went and picked up Forbidden Blood and carefully laid it on the bed next to Morgan. Morgan gave a bitter kind of laugh and said, "Not that one. My book. I took it to work. To Hun… to York, I left it at work. In the office."

  "Oh. All right. Um. Look, don't worry, okay? Why don't you lie down? Get more rest. I'll bring you some tea."

  Caleb brought him the tea, and Morgan drank the tea, and then he felt really, really sleepy. He lay down and drifted off.

  When he woke up it was dark, the only light coming from a small spotlight on his desk. The desk chair had been pulled up by his bed and Caleb was asleep in it, his feet up on the bed. He'd slung a blanket over his legs, Forbidden Blood open, upside down, in his lap. Morgan pulled himself up to sitting, his head still thick from sleep. Then he spotted his magic book resting next to him on the bed. He looked around: there was a cardboard box on the bedside table. In it was his rucksack, a Kit-Kat, a packet of paracetamol, a clothes repair kit, his own personal stapler with his name on it and a spare phone charger. And a mug with Keep Calm and Investigate on it.

  Pain surged in his heart and with it his magic. He quickly ran his fingers around the edges of his book, flicked it open and thumbed to page seventy three. With a huge sense of relief his magic surged into the book, and Aiyeda appeared. She checked herself over, poking at her blue-black scales with her nose. "Sheesh," she said. "Someone's had a bad day."

  Caleb stirred under his blanket, and his eyes flickered open. Aiyeda settled into Morgan's lap and crooned to him.

  "Okay?" said Caleb and yawned.

  Morgan nodded.

  "You can see he's not okay, Carinyo," said Aiyeda. "I mean, look at the state of me. I'm the colour of the midnight sky. This is not a good colour for me. It makes me look like the inside of a cave."

  "I'm sorry," said Morgan.

  Aiyeda nosed at him and murmured, "Be quiet, Guapo. You sound pathetic. You want to be pathetic? Of course not. Nobody wants to be pathetic."

  "D'you want tea?" asked Caleb.

  Morgan nodded. Caleb padded off to the kitchen.

  Morgan took his iPad out of his bedside chest of drawers and fired up YouTube. He flicked through his bookmarks to a kids' cartoon series and put the iPad on the bed in front of him with the volume low. Aiyeda perked up straight away, trotted off Morgan
's lap and sat in front of the iPad, immediately entranced.

  Caleb returned a few minutes later with two mugs of tea, which he put on the bedside table. He sat back in the chair.

  "What did they tell you?" Morgan asked Caleb.

  "The paramedics said there had been an 'incident'. Sahil filled in the rest."

  "Oh."

  "He said Hunter found out you had magic. And reacted badly."

  "He called me a dwimmer."

  "Fucking bastard."

  "Yeah. Only… I've only got myself to blame, right? I hid it from him."

  "If he's so uptight about it, he should have run a background check."

  "That's what his sister said. Pretty much. Well, for other reasons. Like, for all he knows I could have a criminal record long as your arm."

  "Well, no. Pearl makes sure we come all fresh and squeaky-clean legal, with a money-back guarantee. All it means is he didn't ask any specific questions."

  "Oh. I suppose. I hadn't thought of that."

  Aiyeda chuckled at her cartoons. Her tail wafted happily.

  "It's still no excuse to treat you that way," Caleb said. "Majophobia is never acceptable."

  "He has his reasons. And I knew what they were. His mother abandoned him, for fuck's sake."

  Caleb flinched. "And I say again - majophobia is never acceptable."

  Morgan sighed.

  He watched a giant robot form on the iPad screen, a reflection of a blue dragon on the glass.

  "Sahil said you'd been to Bubble. It was a bust, just so as you know. After you ran out leaving puddles of water behind you they refused to let anyone do anything else without a warrant."

  "Shit."

  "What the hell were you doing there, anyway?"

  "I told you. Investigating a murder."

  "Actually, you didn't mention the word 'murder'. You were mostly lecturing me about the perils of illicit magical substances the last time we spoke."

  "It doesn't matter anymore. Hunter hates me. I think I can safely say I'm off the case."

  "Hmm."

  Morgan buried his face in his hands. "How did I manage to fuck things up so badly? Last night I was so happy. I thought it was the start of something, I thought…" Tears came. Normal, non-magical tears; Aiyeda was channelling his excess magic into a whole bundle of cartoon-excitement. But Morgan couldn't stop thinking about lying in Hunter's arms and how right it felt. How totally, fucking right.

  Caleb put a hand on his knee, which was the easiest bit of him to reach, and let him cry.

  "I lost everything over one stupid lie," he said, when he could speak again.

  "One stupid lie which was supposed to protect you," Caleb said. "And a lie of omission at that. You weren't the one throwing abusive language around and being a git."

  Morgan sniffed.

  "Okay," said Caleb. "So tell me. What happened to the murdered guy?"

  "He had a lot of gambling debts. Left work one night, went out and got a bit pissed, a bit high on Essence, had a lot of sex and ended up dead in a river."

  "So, why's it murder? I mean, I'm sorry for the guy, but these things happen, right? People have heart attacks all the time, and if stress and bad habits were his lifestyle and he had a death wish…" Caleb shrugged.

  "He didn't actually die in the river. They think he'd been dead for several hours before he went in the water."

  "Okay. So, what's the theory?"

  "There isn't one. At least, not that anyone shared with me. I'm pretty sure Jess knows more than she's letting on."

  "Jess?"

  "Hunter's sister. Detective Sergeant Shaw. Sahil's boss."

  "Oh, she was the one who let the cat out of the bag to Hunter, right?"

  "The very same."

  "Hunter's sister?"

  "Oh, it's this whole thing. I don't know."

  Morgan took a sip of tea. It was hot, fragrant and soothing. He took a deep breath of its fumes and felt his shoulders relax a little.

  On the iPad the giant robots were fighting. Aiyeda swept her tail from side to side, the feathery tip creating a nice little breeze.

  "So," Caleb said. He was leaning forwards, his forearms on his knees. "Maybe I know something."

  "About what?"

  "About a great many things, young Morgan," Caleb said in a Gandalf voice. "But, seriously. Your gambling friend might not the only person who's had a little bit too much fun and ended up dead in a ditch."

  Morgan frowned. "What?"

  "Well, not an actual ditch. More a warehouse. Other side of town. But rumour has it he'd been at Bubble. And he was epileptic or something. And really wasted. I thought it was an urban legend."

  "Where did you hear it?"

  "A couple of people there mentioned it. Everyone at Bubble seemed to know. No foul play mentioned though, just a tall tale of an old dude who had too much of a good time. But it seems like a bit of a coincidence, right?"

  "Did he have Essence in his system?"

  "I don't know. Probably? Most people who go there do. It's safer than Viagra and gives you a really mellow buzz."

  "Always?"

  "Yeah, pretty much. Everyone I saw downstairs seemed to be having a great time, relaxing, kicking back, having amazing sex."

  "Doesn't that strike you as a bit weird? Why would everyone have the same experience? Essence is notoriously inconsistent. It's really difficult to channel exactly the same mix of magic at the same dose."

  "Maybe there's a really good majos out there who's saving up to send their kids to Uni, or buy a flash car or something?"

  Morgan took another sip of tea. A plan was forming in his mind. He couldn't turn back the clock, and he wanted to punch Hunter in the face as much as he wanted to beg him to take him back. That side of things was a horrible, painful mess he was better off leaving alone. But the reason he was in that miserable club in the first place was still one hundred per cent valid. He could still find out what happened to Reginald Klyne.

  "When are you going back?" Morgan asked.

  "Back where?"

  "To Bubble. You said you had a personal invite."

  "Well, yeah, but after all this–"

  "No, no, you must go. And take me with you."

  "What? Morgan, you shouldn't decide anything too hastily."

  "I need to get hold of one of those Essence tabs. Then maybe I can find out where they come from."

  Caleb sighed heavily. "I don't suppose I could just bring you one?"

  "I'd rather get it myself. I might recognise whoever's selling them from the Coven."

  "Well, all right then. You'll have to decide how to get out of going to the play room and joining the orgy. Just so you know, you're one hundred per cent Mr Appleford's type, all dark and willowy. He's bound to ask us. I get the feeling Dave would never have got in without me, you know."

  "Of course he wouldn't. Why do you think he asked you?"

  It was out as soon as he'd thought it, and Morgan regretted it instantly. But Caleb just sighed and said, "Doesn't mean it wasn't a great night. We all had fun."

  "I know. I just–"

  Caleb squeezed his knee again.

  There was a lot to sort out. He'd have to tell Pearl he'd blown the contract. He'd have to see Dr Rosero in the next forty eight hours, because he'd very definitely lost control. And then there was the Coven meeting on Thursday. There was a chance that Jess might want to see him, too. It made Morgan's head hurt to think about it all, even without the ache in his heart that was Hunter.

  "You should rest," said Caleb. "I'll keep an eye on the dragon, make sure she doesn't get square eyes."

  "I heard that, Carinyo," said Aiyeda, but she didn't take her gaze from the screen.

  The next morning Morgan took the coward's way out and sent Pearl an email telling her he'd left Hunter PI and was taking a couple of weeks off. Then he went to see Dr Rosero.

  She kept morning appointments free for emergencies like this, and fitted him in for ten o'clock. He arrived at nine thirty and wander
ed around the block several times before finally going to sit in the waiting room at quarter to. Not long after he'd begun to stare at the familiar bookshelves, half hoping to come across something titled 'so your boyfriend called you a dwimmer' the door to Dr Rosero's office opened and someone Morgan recognised came out. A woman called Galatia who went to his coven. They acknowledged each other with the standard and slightly embarrassed 'hi, you okay?' that was reserved for majos meeting each other in therapeutic situations, and Galatia went to the appointment desk. Dr Rosero came to the door and ushered Morgan inside.

  "Something happened," Morgan said, plucking the lumpy cushion off the chair before he sat. There was nowhere else to put it, so he rested it carefully on the floor.

  "I thought it must have, seeing as I wasn't supposed to meet you until next week." Ms Rosero was wearing a green summer dress and matching sandals. Her hair was tied up with a green scarf. He'd never seen her showing so much skin before; usually she wore trousers and long-sleeved blouses. Her skin was freckled and there were definite signs of wrinkles, but she played a lot of tennis and it showed: her body was lean and fit, with strong arms and impressive calf muscles. She sat opposite Morgan and folded her hands in her lap.

  "I lost control," Morgan said.

  "Uhuh. And how did that happen?"

  Morgan told her the bare minimum of what happened in Bubble. Just that there had been an argument and he'd got upset.

  "Well, you channelled water. I want you to remember that. It's easier to manage than fire, isn't it?"

  Morgan wasn't so sure about that. He supposed it had done less damage than fire would. But it hadn't felt safe, either. Far from it.

  "Have you seen the papers?" Dr Rosero asked.

  Morgan shook his head. Oh god. What if someone had filmed the whole thing and put it on YouTube?

  "They're saying that there was a giant airlock in a water pipe in a park in Horsforth. It caused a geyser worthy of Yellowstone park."

  "Did you fix that?"

  "Goodness, no. There was a policeman at the scene. He was on the news. You owe him a big thank you."

  Morgan relaxed a bit. "No mention of a rampaging majos spewing water everywhere?"