Hunter and Morgan: Gatecrasher

by H. K. Nightingale

  "Would you like to share with us what was said or done to you?" Rick asked. "If it's not too painful?"

  Morgan braced himself to hear more bad things about Hunter that would make him question his own judgement all over again. But instead Jess clasped her hands together nervously and said, "It was a colleague. Someone I'm really close with."

  Not Sahil. He'd been so good with Morgan, and he'd sounded protective towards Jess. He'd even covered for him. So, who?

  "We joined the organisation at the same time and I always thought he understood. He played tennis with my husband, and his little boy and mine have playdates. We often ask each other for advice. He works in a different department, it's good to get perspective."

  Definitely not Sahil. Thank fuck. Morgan didn't think he could stand anymore betrayals.

  "I'm working on a tricky project right now." She glanced at Morgan, probably without meaning to, and she snapped her gaze away again immediately. "I went to this particular colleague for advice, and the topic of magic came up. He was extremely dismissive."

  "Is that it?" said Tim. "No disrespect, but people are dismissive of magic all the time. In fact, if my family would stop at being dismissive I'd be hunky dory and wouldn't need to come here anymore."

  "We are a little more than a support group, Tim," Rick said, his big brown eyes delivering a sad sort of admonishment to Tim.

  "You know what I mean," said Tim, and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  "It didn't stop there," said Jess. "The next day, he told me his little boy wouldn't be coming to my house for sleepovers anymore."

  "Oh no," said Debra.

  "It's hard enough being a woman in my line of work," Jess said. "And I'm younger than most in my position. Having to deal with this as well feels like too much sometimes."

  Morgan really felt for her and, judging by the buzz of sympathy that went round the room, he wasn't the only one. Knowing exactly what Jess's job was, and that she had to deal with her own brother's prejudice as well - and her mother's desertion - made it all the worse.

  "I'm sure we can all relate to Jess's position," said Rick. "Can anyone share ways in which they've coped in situations where they've been discriminated against for their gifts?"

  "I suck it up and get on with it," said Tim, gruffly.

  "I try not to get into fights," said Jamil. "Violence doesn't help. Even when it feels like it might. Like this week."

  "Talk to someone," suggested Debra. "You did well coming here tonight. Didn't she, everyone?" She started, tentatively, to clap. Nobody seemed quite sure whether or not to join in, so Morgan did, to encourage them. For Debra's sake more than anything. It was all a bit awkward.

  When the applause died away, Rick stood up. "Remember, Jess, as hard as it can be with the world the way it is, discrimination in the workplace is illegal. If he shows any signs of prejudice there I suggest you visit your HR department. Or any coven can provide you with advocacy."

  "Thank you. I will."

  Rick led them in a closing meditation, and then Brooke came out with a tray of tea and biscuits. Morgan gratefully helped himself to a peppermint tea and a piece of shortbread, and was going to talk to Galatia, or maybe Jess - he wasn't sure if she'd welcome that or not. Brooke took the decision out of his hands when she passed the tray to Rick to finish taking round and said to Morgan, "See me in the office, mate?"

  Morgan obediently followed her into a consulting room just beyond the kitchen. She turned on the lights and indicated for him to sit in the patient's seat.

  "Am I in trouble?" asked Morgan.

  "Not at all. Like Rick said, we need to sort you out with some support, right?"

  Brooke was from London, or so Morgan assumed from the accent. She was quite short, with hair braided back from her face to fall down her back. She wore cut-off denims and a t-shirt with 'Luton Girls' on it, along with purple Converse with rainbow laces. She logged into the computer and pulled up his file.

  "I'm sure Dr Rosero will come back," Morgan said. "It's probably just a misunderstanding or something."

  "Hm. Okay, says here you used to see her every other week, is that right?"

  "When things were going well, yes."

  'That's a bit more than most of us."

  "Is it? I never really thought about it."

  "You've been seeing her a long time."

  "We get on really well."

  "It must be tough on you that she disappeared." Brooke's sympathy was as matter-of-fact as Rick's was syrupy. Morgan liked that.

  "It's horrible. I went to her office and found it in a mess and…" To his horror, tears welled up.

  Brooked popped a box of tissues in front of him and leaned towards him, touching his arm. "Would you like to talk about it?"

  Morgan shook his head. "It's just…" He blew his nose. "I'm worried about her."

  "Of course you are, mate."

  "And I'm scared. My control is shattered right now and it's selfish but without her…"

  "Without her, what, mate? Tell me what you're frightened of."

  "I'm frightened I'll hurt people."

  "Right. Listen to me, Morgan. Look at me."

  He looked up. Brooke's eyes were pretty, hazel-green, but most of all, kind. Her gaze was steady.

  She said, "You've got this."

  "I do?"

  "You've had two major incidents in the last week, and you came through both times. You have inside you more power than all the majos in tonight's meeting put together, and you manage it day after day after day. What do you do when you start to lose control?"

  "Get out of the situation. Breathe. Discharge the magic safely, if I can."

  "And that's all you can do. You're not alone. You have your totem?"

  Morgan's hand went to his necklace, traced the outline of the tree with his forefinger. "Yes."

  "You do all your exercises? Channel to your familiar on a regular basis?"

  Morgan nodded.

  "Then you're more dedicated than most of the majos I see. Take it easy, and try to keep out of stressful situations until you're feeling better, okay? This isn't your fault, Morgan. You're doing your best. Now, shall we get you sorted out with a new mentor to look after you until Dr Rosero gets back?"

  Morgan drew in a long, shuddering breath. "Yes. God, yes, please."

  "Good. Well done, Morgan. You'll be okay."

  Brooke tapped a few things on the computer, and then she grinned at him. "Would you look at that?"

  "What?"

  "I just put you through the mentor matcher, and look who it popped out." She turned the screen so he could see the name.

  Brooke Anderson.

  She stuck her hand out for him to shake. "Welcome aboard, Mr Kerry. When would you like our first meeting to be?"

  Morgan hadn't expected to leave the meeting with a new mentor, not even a temporary one. When he'd got up that morning he hadn't even expected to need one. It was all a bit daunting and confusing, although he didn't have a problem with Brooke. He did have a problem with his life being turned upside down on a regular basis. By the time he'd got back to the main room everyone else had gone, and Rick was moving the chairs back into formation for the next day's GP surgery. He said his goodbyes. Rick gave him a hug.

  Out on the street he spotted Jess striding off towards the car park. She must have left only a little before him. She'd recaptured her usual confidence, by the looks of things: she held her head high, her stride was even and confident, and her dark hair swung jauntily in its ponytail. She looked like a different person. Maybe that's how she coped with things. Putting on a brave face in a hostile world. Morgan had never got the hang of that.

  He thought about running after her, maybe talking to her about Hunter and whatever bullshit she was putting up with at work. But he figured if she'd wanted to talk to him she'd have waited. Besides, she'd probably had quite enough of Morgan and his misadventures for a lifetime. So Morgan headed to the bus stop and went home.

  Chapter Twen
ty

  Morgan was surprised to find Caleb, Darius and Harlequin sitting around the dining table when he got back to the flat. It had been cleared of the DVDs and books and odds and ends that usually covered it. Morgan had forgotten it had a rather swish marbled blue top. It looked quite posh.

  "I hope this isn't an intervention," he said. "I've already been to Coven tonight."

  "Not an intervention." Caleb got up and ushered Morgan to one of two spare seats at the table. "D'you want a drink?"

  Darius, Harlequin and Caleb had bottles of beer in front of them. "Water, please," Morgan said. "So what are we doing? Monopoly tournament? Dungeons and Dragons?"

  "Darling, please," said Darius.

  "Hi, Morgan. Female pronouns," said Harley. "We're here to form Plan B."

  Caleb set a glass of iced water in front of Morgan, just as the doorbell rang. Morgan looked at the empty chair. "Who else are we expecting?"

  Nobody would quite meet his eye. Caleb rushed off to answer the door.

  He heard a voice from the hallway outside, swapping pleasantries with Caleb's. He knew that voice. He pushed his chair back from the table.

  "Morgan," Darius said, gently.

  "I can't believe this."

  "He wants to help," said Darius.

  "You can tell him to go away if you want," said Harley. "You have a choice."

  Morgan gave Harley a grateful smile. At least she grasped how out of order it was to ask his ex here to his home, even if no-one else did. Darius picked at the label on his beer bottle and avoided eye contact.

  Morgan braced himself and looked calmly at Hunter as he came in, determined to appear aloof and composed. All that happened was that Morgan's heart skipped a beat at how beautiful Hunter was. He was wearing a soft-looking t-shirt which clung to his shoulders and hung loose over his stomach. It wasn't tucked in. Morgan could have his hand up there in a matter of seconds. He remembered what Hunter's belly felt like: the scattering of soft blond hairs, the smooth, flat skin.

  "Let me get you a beer," Caleb said.

  "Thanks." Hunter's voice was warm and rich and didn't have an ounce of arrogance about it, for once. This wasn't Damian Hunter, PI, it was the Damian Hunter who'd had dinner with Morgan, taken him home and made love to him until his heart sang.

  Morgan kicked out the chair for him. Hunter sat.

  "How are you?" Hunter asked him. He sounded genuinely concerned.

  "Fine."

  "And your magic…?"

  "All back to normal. Don't worry, I'm not going to make a water feature out of the table. Or electrocute anybody."

  "Good."

  "Honestly, I'm fine," said Darius. "It was just a tingle."

  An awkward silence settled over the table. Morgan was relieved when Caleb came back, even if he did want to kill him for letting this happen.

  "So, thanks for coming, everyone," said Caleb. "I asked you here because I have an opportunity to get back into Bubble. And I think I should take it."

  "No," said Morgan.

  "Hear me out."

  "Christ, Caleb, you've already lost your job and had your naked arse plastered all over the local press. That's enough."

  "On the contrary. Those things give me all the more reason to go back and solve the mystery," Caleb said. "Revenge."

  "And because the danger gets you off."

  Morgan and Caleb glared at each other.

  "If they thought the place was dangerous they'd have closed it," said Caleb.

  "Only if they had proof," Morgan shot back. "They can't close down a business without evidence."

  "You should have pressed charges about them slipping you Essence." Hunter looked annoyingly smug.

  "Hunter has a point," Harley said. "Why didn't you?"

  Morgan said, "Because it's irrelevant. And I don't want my arse all over the national press. The local papers is quite enough." And now he knew who'd made the Essence, Morgan didn't want the police sniffing around it. "I just want to forget the whole thing."

  "I'm not asking you to be a part of this," Caleb said.

  "Great. I won't be, then. It's a terrible idea."

  "I mean, I thought you cared that people are getting killed, but if you really just want to forget it all…"

  "What do you hope to gain from going back, hm? Loyalty points? Or are you going to hide under a blanket somewhere and wait until the murderer turns up and starts talking to himself about what he did?"

  "Ah, that's the exiting part. This isn't just an ordinary invitation. Dave and Jennifer and I have a personal invitation directly from the mysterious Mr Appleford," Caleb said. "I'm going to find out exactly who he is."

  "We know who he is. He's the owner of the club."

  "Actually, he's not," said Hunter. "The owner is Wallace Sturgess, the lottery winner, remember? Sahil interviewed him. He lives in London and all he's interested in is acquiring buildings, mostly recommended by his business manager. He's never met Appleford in person, the lease was arranged by an agency, which, it turns out, doesn't actually exist. The events are managed by a woman called Candice, who runs the burlesque show. She said no-one's ever seen Appleford. Supposedly he remotely watches the security cameras at the entrance and messages the security staff to tell them who's picked for the playroom."

  "What?" said Caleb.

  "That makes sense," said Harley. "Most sex parties are quite exclusive, you know. Only the prettiest are allowed."

  Darius said, "Maybe they film it and sell it as porn. Hey, has anyone checked PornHub?"

  "On it," said Harley, tapping at her phone.

  "That would finish Pearl off good and proper," Caleb said.

  "Or maybe Wally Sturgess watches it on livestream from his office in London," said Darius.

  "There's CCTV in there?" Morgan was just wondering if his day could get any worse and hey presto, there it was.

  "You're quite safe," Hunter said, with a totally unnecessary smirk. "There's no CCTV in the play room, and they record over the previous night's footage from the entrance every night."

  Harley said, "To be honest, most of these orgy videos could be shot anywhere, you don't really see the surroundings. None of them look like you, though."

  "That was fast," Hunter said.

  "I wrote an app," said Harley. Morgan could tell that Hunter was dying to ask more about that, but there was something about the decisive way Harley turned off her phone and put it back in the pocket of her shorts that said no questions would be answered.

  "We should be leaving this to the professionals," said Morgan.

  "The thing is, we professionals are stumped," Hunter said. "Both victims died of cardiac arrest, with Essence in their systems and evidence of recent sexual activity. The police have eliminated all their suspects, and they've found no other connection between the victims except for one. They were both invited to Bubble personally. By Appleford."

  "You've got to be kidding me." Morgan turned to Caleb. "You hear that? And you want to go right back in there?"

  "It's the ideal opportunity," said Caleb. "I'll go along with the invitation, and find out all I can about him."

  "That could work," said Darius.

  "I don't think you understand what's happening here," said Morgan. "It's obviously a trap. Both of the other victims got invitations like this. Caleb's putting himself directly in the line of danger. Are you seriously comfortable with that?"

  "It's not like they can lock them in that room and throw away the key," said Darius. "He can leave any time if things get dodgy."

  "I know exactly what I'm getting into," said Caleb. "Besides, I'll be with Jennifer and Dave."

  Morgan snorted. "And they've always been so good to you, right? You're fooling yourself, Caleb."

  "Morgan has a point," Hunter said. "I don't like any of this. Remember, people have died, and we have no idea why. If anyone's doing this it should be an undercover police officer."

  Caleb said, "How long would it take them to get as close as I am now? And how many
people might die in the meanwhile?"

  "So, let's look at things a different way," said Harley. "Did you find out anything about the Essence, Morgan?"

  "It's an advanced formula. Encanté, with a focus on reducing inhibition, and a high thrown in. Very clean." Morgan kept his voice steady. It was tempting to charm them all to make the lie easier when it inevitably came. But he resisted. Magic had done nobody any favours recently, after all.

  "And the maker?" asked Hunter.

  "Nothing. Didn't register the signature. It's probably imported."

  The others' disappointment was tangible, and Morgan felt like shit. He hated lying, especially to his friends. But Michaela wasn't around to defend herself. What if she'd produced the stuff for perfectly acceptable clinical reasons, and it had been stolen from her? Until he could ask her, face to face, her secret stayed with him.

  He said, "Whoever it was who made it, it's a clean drug. It's the people selling it who are fucking dangerous."

  "All the more reason to talk to whoever this Appleford guy is," said Caleb. "For fuck's sake, people, someone spiked our drinks. Darius got hurt, Mor and I both lost our jobs. We have to do something. And I think Appleford knows what's going on."

  "Oh, and he's going to just tell you," said Morgan.

  Caleb glared at him. "I don't need your negativity."

  "Get used to it. I'm going with you," said Morgan.

  There was a chorus of 'what?' from around the table.

  "I'm not letting you get hurt. And I know you; whatever we say, you're going anyway, aren't you?"

  "Yes," Caleb said, stubbornly. "Yes, because it's the right thing to do."

  "Right. We enter separately. I'll get there first and wait downstairs, near the entrance to the party room. You go in with Jennifer and Dave to meet Appleford, and if you haven't come back within an agreed time limit, I'll come and get you."

  "I like that idea," said Harley. "Good one, Morgan."

  "It's a ridiculous idea," Hunter said. "What on earth makes you think they'll let Morgan back in there after what he did?"

  "I have my ways," said Morgan, with a smirk that was probably less than pleasant.