"How do you guys get messages to each other if you don’t carry phones? News travels faster than expected in the Augur community," I ask him out of curiosity.
"Ah, we’re not allergic to phones. Just don’t like to keep them in our pockets and whatnot. We just phone each other normally on landlines and get used to the fact that if ya tell someone you’re going to be somewhere you actually just turn up. Plus, Agnes always seems to know when I’m home." He talks easily, and his accent is soft like those from the South of Ireland.
St James’s underground station is a short walk from the hospital, just over one of the many bridges that spans the River Thames, its huge glass and concrete face overlooking the black water below. I remember reading how French painters used to be allowed up to the roof to paint the Houses of Parliament some centuries ago, because at the time it was the best view of the place. I always imagine it would be quite a nice view if, heaven forbid, I should ever end up in hospital.
It's a weird thought though, and I shake it out of my head as we step through the revolving doors and into the vast reception area. The smell of disinfectant hits me like a fist in the nostrils, and I recall why I don't generally spend much of my time getting sick: I hate these places and try to avoid them if possible. I recall having to visit my nan on Dad's side before she died, and the whole place made me thoroughly depressed even though I was only twelve at the time.
Ella steps up to the reception desk and asks for the ward Federico is in. To her and our surprise, Federico isn't in intensive care but is sleeping in a ward, and we're lucky enough to have arrived near the tag end of visiting hours. The receptionist warns us, though, that if he's asleep we won't necessarily be allowed to see him, so all the way up in the lift we silently pray that he's awake.
A no-nonsense nurse tells us to wait at the entrance to the ward while she checks on him and leaves us waiting for a few minutes.
"Alright guys, try and let me do all the talking if possible. I need you both to listen carefully in case he says something that I might miss. Federico is a very secretive guy so no doubt he'll want to avoid speaking openly if there are any police or eavesdroppers nearby."
I suddenly realise that of course I'm probably the last person he would want to see on his sickbed. Federico can't stand me.
"Er, Ella, should I just wait here while you guys do your thing? I might be more of a hindrance if I try to play detective around him," I point out. She seems to mull this over for a minute before shaking her head.
"No, I think you should still be there. You might be able to see this from a different angle and find something I've missed. Plus, I'm kind of hoping he'll be a little more taken by you since you were the one that saved his life by finding him." She gives me a smile, but all I can do is return a worried shrug.
"Mr. Caravelli will see you, but as soon as I sense him being overworked I'll be ushering you out," the nurse returns to say curtly. "You have ten minutes of visiting time left, so please try not to wear him out." Ella nods understandingly and that seems to appease her. To our dismay, the most obvious thing we spot when we enter the ward is the policeman stationed near the end of the room.
"Seems a little odd to have a person under police protection in a general ward, don't you think?" Jer whispers to Ella and me. It occurs to me that I had pictured Federico in a little cosy room with someone posted at the door, carefully vetting everyone that went in and out. Evidently this is not the case, and we make our way to the last bed right by the window. It could be because of the cost of keeping him in a private room, or it could be because he’s an Augur; no doubt the doctors would know that by now with all the tests and stuff they’ve been doing. I’m not sure if Augurs have physiological differences to Normals, but if so then no doubt this is looked for as soon as someone comes into emergency care. We shrug the low security off as there’s nothing we can do about it now. The curtain around the bed is drawn all the way, except for a small gap on the far side allowing the patient to see the London night skyline, and at the same time for the police officer to see inside the enclosure.
Federico is, surprisingly, sitting up in bed with a newspaper on his lap. He looks tired and pale but otherwise just the same as always, except for a large bandage wrapped around his expansive middle. He smiles sadly at Ella when he sees her and raises a hand to greet Jer, but to me he gives a look that I have difficulty translating. Is that gratitude? I smile nervously as he gestures me towards his bed and I'm forced to come right up to him. I can see the bloodshot eyes, the pallid and saggy skin on his face, and I feel some kind of sympathy towards him. To my utter surprise he grabs me in a rough embrace and pulls me down towards the bed. The bear hug is less than three seconds long, but I feel like I'm going to pass out with the shock of it. This huge, stubborn Italian has barely said three words to me since we met ten weeks ago and given me my fair share of dirty looks, but obviously the whole saving-his-life thing has really affected him.
"Grazie," he says hoarsely, and I simply nod, grateful when Ella pushes her way next to me by the bed.
"Fedi, I have some important questions for you from the Duke," she says, her voice almost a whisper. He sighs in acquiescence and gestures her to sit on the bed by him. Jer comes round the other side opposite me and stands in a position where he can see the police officer on duty through the gap in the curtains and nods for them to talk, never taking his eyes away from the man.
"Can you tell me what happened first of all?"
"Si, si. Everything seemed normal enough," he says in his thick Italian accent. "I was at the cooker when suddenly I feel something, some kind of disturbance. I look into the restaurant and the 'ole place is a on fire. Of course, I immediately go to the fridge to see if you-know-what is safe when there's a man in a black 'oodie and black trousers throwing things off my shelves. I have a spatula in my 'and so I try to 'it 'im with it. Well, he is-a surprised to see me, and he throws things at me. After a small struggle he stabs me with a little pocket knife, but I am clever. I know what he is after, and I ‘ave ‘idden it very well. I think he realizes he isn't going to find it. But there’s a blood everywhere and then it all goes black, so I can only ‘ope that you 'ave it somewhere safe?" He asks Ella and she nods in reply. This is more English than I've ever heard him speak and it takes me a minute to adjust to the sound of his accent, usually only hearing Italian curse words aimed at something or someone or other.
"Thank God he only had a pocket knife," Jer comments and I agree. At least no permanent damage has been done.
"Did he use, you know?" Ella asks him. Magic is what she means. Did the culprit, other than wearing a dodgy looking black number, show any signs of potentially being a member of the Magic Circle or at least being some kind of Augur?
He shakes his head and sighs with exhaustion. I can just imagine the nurse bursting in and throwing us out for tiring him, and I think Ella has a similar thought. "We'll leave you to rest, Fedi, but just one last thing: is there anything you can think of at all that might point us in the direction of who might have done this? Things are hotting up pretty quickly now, and I'm worried that all these incidents might be somehow related," Ella says, the last bit almost inaudibly.
"I 'eard about Downing Street," he sighs again, sadly this time.
"Don't worry Fed, we'll get through this mess," Jer puts a hand of comfort on the big man's shoulder and it seems to prompt him to say his final piece.
"There was one thing I remember, that I thought was odd. The knife he hit me with was not a normal Swiss Army knife. It 'ad a little peculiar symbol on it," he looks around for something to write with and finds a ballpoint on the nightstand next to his hospital bed. On the corner of his newspaper he draws a symbol which from my viewpoint looks like a large 'W' with an intricate wave on the top and bottom. He tears off the small piece of paper and gives it to me, much to my surprise, and I pocket it just as the busybody nurse draws the curtain aside to announce that visiting hours are over, and just in time too. He gives Ella a hug and
both myself and Jer a handshake before letting us go.
"Well that was unexpected. I didn’t do anything heroic really, just snooped around where I probably shouldn’t have," I say in the lift on the way back down to the ground floor.
"Well, all the same it saved his life. I knew it was a good idea bringing you with us," Ella smiles and gives my hand a little squeeze.
"Alright you lovebirds, I think I've got to take a look at this crime scene meself just in case there is any trace of Augur activity still left around there," Jer says, and we all agree. It would be stupid not to double check, just in case the fire was started by Augur magic and we can tie the attack on the restaurant to the Magic Circle. I kind of understand the need to do that too. It means that if that's the case we're fighting one enemy rather than feeling like they are coming from all over. If the Magic Circle are behind trying to get the data on Carlton Munday as well as the fire in the restaurant, then perhaps the Duke's contact will be able to lead us straight to them. I say as much to Ella and Jer, very quietly of course, whilst we make our way back to the tube station for yet another journey.
"I'm impressed, Curtis," Jer says, genuinely sounding it. "That's a fair bit of deduction you've done there. Sherlock would be proud," he smiles.
"Not just a pretty face," I reply, and we laugh as we get off at Hampstead Heath. Despite all the crap going on, it feels good to have both a beautiful and trusting girlfriend and someone else around who seems like they're a genuinely nice person. I seem to have forgotten what it's like to have close friends since leaving school, and although it's never really bothered me, it's weirdly relieving now.
It takes us ten minutes to get to the horrific site of the fire and what used to be our place of work. Even thinking that it ‘used to be’ rather than ‘is’ makes me sad. The blackened hollows that were the front windows seem to gape sadly, like the hollow eyes of a skull. Police tape cordons off any direct access to the front, and there's one officer on duty outside, but we take the back alley knowing that it's unlikely they'll have someone posted back there. To our surprise and dismay, there's a forensic team taking photos in the kitchen and dusting the place for fingerprints. The back door is wide open, so we have a clear view of everything going on inside, and we stealthily walk past as if we are just passersby. At the other end of the alleyway, we stop and Ella turns to us.
"Not good. I didn’t expect them to work on it so fast. We’re going to have to get Jer in there somehow to do his mojo thing, and there's too many people to stun at one time," she says, as if stunning people is something she does all the time.
"Wait, what? You stun people? How?" I ask, looking at her like I've never seen her before.
"Just a little electric pulse usually knocks a person out when I touch them, that's all. But I could probably only do it one at a time, and obviously someone would figure out what was going on by the time the second person had passed out," she says, as if we're talking about what we had for breakfast and not about causing other human beings temporary unconsciousness. I frown but I realize I can't really judge her. I knew what I signed up for at the beginning.
"So, er, what do you suggest?"
"We need to create a distraction somehow, or at least find a way to put most of their attention somewhere far away enough that I can slip in," Jer says looking at us both.
"I have an idea," Ella says, giving me a sly look which makes my heart rise up in my chest. It’s the kind of look that means we’re about to get up to no good, and I may just like it in spite of myself.
A minute or so later, we're wandering up to the back door of the kitchen, falling about with laughter and giggling like school kids.
"S'lovely night, isn't it?" She slurs at me as we burst into the room. She throws her arms around me and pulls me into a hard kiss which takes all my willpower to stay in character. There are four people in the kitchen area and only one of them comes towards us to usher us out.
"Excuse me, guys, this is a crime scene. I'm going to have to ask you to leave," says the police woman dressed in a white plastic coverall and plastic shoe covers.
"S'sorry officer," I try and mumble, pretending to pull Ella off me who only pushes towards me harder. We land in a pile on one of the work benches, sending pots and pans flying, laughing all the louder now like the drunken idiots we're pretending to be.
"Linda, come and give me a hand with these two, please," she calls to her colleague, and Ella pretends to collapse even further. Lucky for us, this is enough to bring the whole team on their feet in an attempt to grab our flailing arms and legs.
"Oh, for goodness sake," the woman says, throwing one of my madly waving arms over her shoulder.
"If I hadn't already dusted that area for fingerprints I'd be arresting you for obstruction of justice and tampering with a crime scene, you know," she says to me curtly, and I tense a little at the mention of being arrested.
"S'very kind of you, officerrr. You have a lovely nose, you know that?" I say stupidly, making my eyes glaze over to keep the ploy going longer.
"I’m going to have to call you two a cab," she says, pulling out her police radio.
"Oooh, don’t worry Mrs Police Lady, we don’t live far away," Ella says, hiccuping exaggeratedly and doing a great job of being a convincing party girl that had a few too many cocktails.
"Whass the way to the nearest Mackie D’s?" She asks the police woman, who sighs in response. Out of the corner of my eye I see a movement and hope that it’s Jer finishing up whatever it is he does.
"C’mon, baaabe," I say to Ella, trying to pull her away from one of the forensic investigators. He’s a tall skinny guy with goggles on top of his glasses, and in the tangle of pretend drunkenness I dive towards Ella for a kiss and deliberately miss, instead kissing his surgical gloved hand.
"Sorry, s-so ssrry," I say on repeat as they practically throw us out the door and into the back alley. We wobble all the way out to the main road until we’re sure that no one is watching and then duck behind a telephone box.
"God, I hope that Jer managed to get in and out in time," Ella says, her voice completely normal.
"Bloody hell that was scary," I say. "You’re an incredible actress though," I smile at her.
"You’re not too bad yourself, mister. If I didn’t know any better I would have thought you quite enjoyed kissing that guy’s glove," she jokes.
"Ah, I just imagined it was you. All part of my ‘method’, don’t you know?" I say in a mock-Shakespearean actor’s voice. I enjoy the sound of her laugh before it is interrupted by the sudden appearance of Jer from around the corner.
"Blimey, guys. That was a close one," he says, rubbing his hands together nervously. From his wide-eyed expression, I’m not sure whether he has good news or bad news, but he looks thoroughly spooked.
"What’s the verdict, Jer?" Ella asks him impatiently.
"I think maybe we should go somewhere more private than behind a phone box, don’t ya think?" he says looking at me for back up. I nod, realising that talking about Augur business in the middle of the street right next to an active crime scene probably isn’t a good idea.
"My house isn’t far from here —a fifteen-minute walk if we’re fast." They both agree that the comfort of my home would probably be best, particularly as my parents are away and there’s no risk of an intrusion, so we make our way along my daily commute from the restaurant to home, Ella’s arm threaded through mine on my left and Jer to my right.
At the end of my street I suddenly remember the other reason for Jer coming round and mention it to him, proffering the threatening note that has been crumpled in my pocket all day.
"Oh yeah, your creepy neighbour. I’ll get right on it as soon as we’ve had a cuppa," he smiles, taking it from me and rubbing it slowly between his thumb and forefinger as if he can feel something in the markings on the paper. I let us in to the house and my newest resident, the black cat, is lounging on one of the kitchen chairs when we walk in. If I hadn’t already had a bucket load o
f surprises today I’d probably be shocked to see him, but as it is he’s the last of my worries.
"Lovely cat," Jer says, going to give him a stroke. "What’s his name?"
"Dunno. He just seems to have adopted me. Not really even sure if it’s a ‘he’," I say, and the cat gives me a look that suggests I’d be an idiot to think anything otherwise. "Okay, he’s a he. But I have no idea how he gets in. Just one of the many mysteries that seem to have appeared in my life lately." I fill the kettle and set out three cups, one for coffee and two for tea. My stomach rumbles violently and I suddenly realise that it’s 10pm and none of us have eaten, so I order pizza for delivery from my phone while we wait.
"It’s a funny thing," Jer comments, giving the cat a stroke behind the ears, who purrs loudly in response.
"What’s that?" I ask as I set a mug down in front of him.
"Well, your cat has an Augur signature," he explains, taking a gulp of tea while he examines my uninvited guest.
"Ella’s mentioned it before, but what does that actually mean?" I feel stupid asking because I feel like I should know everything about them by now.
"Well, just like Ella can do stuff that’s a bit, you know, different, I’ve got my unique skill set which allows me to sort of ‘read’ an Augur from their abilities, what they’re like, even who the trace magic belongs to, if I’ve met them before anyway.
"This little guy either belongs to an Augur or he’s been near one lately."
"Well, yeah, Ella," I explain as I sit down and hand her a cup.
"No, not Ella’s. She’s got a kind of softer feel to her magic. This one’s different and familiar to me..." he trails off for a moment. He pulls the note out and rubs his fingers over it again. "Odd though. The cat and this piece of paper don’t have a similar feel to them. The note was written by an Augur I’d reckon, and it’d be easy to say that the cat has had some connection to whomever it was that wrote it, but it doesn’t seem that way.”
"How could you tell that if it’s just a handwritten note though? Wouldn’t it need to have been written with magic?" I’m confused how a scrap of paper could have so much information attached to it.
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