The Courtship of Julian St. Albans

by Crook, Amy

  “I should say taste,” said Geoff, making Alex’s pulse pick up just a little, “but actually it’s touch for me. The gloves make it harder, but I need to be a little bit protected from the spell that knocked you out.”

  “Touch, that’s,” Alex swallowed, “intriguing.” His imagination kicked into overdrive, presenting him with images of a touch mage and sound mage together, each moan carrying magical overtones, each caress exploring both physical and magical contours.

  “What are you thinking right now?” asked Geoff sharply.

  Alex turned bright red. “I don’t know if-” he protested.

  “It’s the spell, I can feel it growing stronger,” said Geoff, his voice all authority now.

  Alex let out an embarrassed whimper. “You, I’m thinking of you and me and the very magical sex we could have,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  Geoff looked surprised, blinking up at him owlishly. “The spell is making you want me?”

  “More,” clarified Alex. “It’s making me want you more.”

  “Ah,” said Geoff, clearing his throat. “So the spell is intensifying already-existing feelings of lust?”

  Alex nodded, feeling miserable despite the deliciously vivid images still playing through his mind. “There’s some underlying affection building as well,” said Alex, “so it’s not entirely lust.”

  “What if I told you I had a boyfriend?” asked Geoff.

  Alex’s pulse spiked. “No!” he said, and then stopped, shocked. “Oh, my. I assure you, such vehement possessiveness is not a natural trait for me.”

  “I wonder why it chose me?” said Geoff.

  “Perhaps it needed the prior lust to build on?” said Alex, trying very hard to push away the foreign impulses.

  Geoff chuckled. “Don’t swing both ways, then?” he asked, and Alex’s fingers twitched again at the thought of Geoff with a woman, with anyone but himself.

  “This is very unpleasant,” said Alex. “Not the lust part, but the jealousy, it’s quite odd and unwelcome.”

  “I think you’re going to have to go through a full purification to get this out of you,” said Geoff apologetically.

  Alex sighed. “Can it be done here?” he asked. “Agent Lapointe can see to my things.”

  “Well, not on the couch, but you can come to the infirmary, yes. Just let me bag up the gloves and your artefacts, and I can examine them while you have your bath.”

  “Ugh,” said Alex, “I hate salt baths.”

  Geoff chuckled, using tongs to drop the gloves into a magically null bag and then dropping the tongs in after and sealing the whole thing up. “Should’ve been more careful, then,” he said, demonstrating by using more of the little plastic tongs to bag up Alex’s personal things. “None of this feels like the spell, though, so I think you’re safe.”

  “I hope so,” said Alex with a sigh. “I really like my stuff.”

  “Come on, let’s get you to the infirmary before I strip you naked. You can bring your other clothes,” he said, nodding to the discarded jacket and waistcoat.

  “Oh, goodie,” said Alex sarcastically, but he complied, gathering his things and trooping after Geoff. They paused long enough to assure Lapointe that he’d be fine, and then it was down to the much more private infirmary in the basement, which Alex had always thought was situated far too close to the morgue for comfort.

  “In there,” said Geoff, pointing to one of the exam rooms. “Shuck your kit, every stitch, not a single bit of jewellery left.”

  “This really isn’t how I’d hoped you’d get me naked,” said Alex, a halfhearted attempt at flirting as he shuffled into the small room. He left his clothes in an uncharacteristically messy pile on the bed and tried to decide if it was worse to be small because it was bloody cold in here, or big because he was still seeing pornographic images of the two of them in a loop in his head thanks to the spell.

  Geoff knocked on the door. “The bath’s all set, you can go through the far door.” There was a pause, and then he added in a more playful tone, “Don’t worry, I’ll still see all of you for the last bit.”

  “Hooray,” said Alex sarcastically, finding the spell’s effect lessened now that he was away from the target, but his headache beginning to return.

  He sighed and went into the next room, where a raised round tub held a milky-looking bath that was unhappily not steaming at all. “I hate this part,” he said to nobody in particular, then he forced himself to get in the cold water with its harsh mineral salts, immersing himself despite the way the salt stung his nose and the small abrasions of his everyday life. He hadn’t even known he had a hangnail, but now every tiny break in his skin was a point of sharp pain.

  He stayed under for as long as he could stand, which he knew was rather pathetically short, and then he came up just enough to get a few good breaths of air before going back under. With his real ears muffled by the liquid, he could hear the alien magic buzzing around inside him, the noise angriest at those points where the salt bath stung, as the bath slowly purified everything it could reach.

  After a dozen dunkings, he sat up and made the very unpleasant effort of getting the salt bath to wash over every wrinkle and crevice in his nether regions. When he emerged he was cold, sore, his head hurt and his skin felt as though he’d been lightly sandblasted.

  The warm shower waiting for him afterward was bliss.

  Special purifying soap washed away the residue of the salt bath and soothed his small pains, and he was just as thorough with it as he had been with the cold. He even used a neti pot full of warm saline to clean out his sinuses, and a specially designed ear washer to get the stinging salts out of his smarting ears. He also drank a good pint of cool, clear spring water, and by the time he stepped out of the shower and found the stack of fluffy unbleached cotton towels waiting for him, the buzzing magic had been reduced to a tiny shadow of itself, echoing around his ribcage but unable to insinuate itself back into his subtle body.

  He resisted the urge to wrap a towel around his waist and instead went naked into the next room, not the way he’d come but another chamber kept magically charged for situations such as these.

  Inside, Geoff was waiting for him with a smile on his face and a tiny cup of thick, sticky liqueur distilled from honey and purifying herbs and given a very potent magical charge by the order of monks who created it.

  Alex felt the spell trying to rise up in him, to burrow down to his more easily-influenced parts, but the magic crowding the room stifled it, kept it trapped, squeezed it down until it was just a tiny, angrily buzzing little bee right at the centre of his chest.

  Geoff lifted the cup, pouring the liquid into his own mouth and then stepping forward to place one hand on either side of Alex’s head, his thin white robe brushing all along Alex’s front as they kissed. The magical liqueur spilled into his mouth and he swallowed reflexively, taking that magic into himself and feeling it spread through him in a white-gold wave, splitting the remains of the spell up and shoving it out his fingertips until there was nothing left but light.

  The tangling of their tongues as the power faded was not, strictly speaking, part of the ritual, but Alex couldn’t bring himself to object.

  “Mmm, not how I’d imagined a first kiss going,” said Geoff with a chuckle as he stepped away.

  “Hard to live up to,” teased Alex, trying to pretend he was comfortable standing there naked, his whole scrawny, pale body on display before he’d had a chance to impress the man with his other, more inspiring attributes. Not to say that he was below average, but he’d always been a man whose full talents took time to fully unfold.

  So to speak.

  Geoff gave him another look and then sighed. “I will say it’s a shame you’re being Courted, but it’s probably for the best. If there’s any spell residue hiding on your clothes or artefacts, I couldn’t find it anywhere but the gloves, but we should avoid,” he chuckled, “extra-curricular contact, at least for a few weeks until we’re sure you�
��re free of its influence.”

  “Go and be all wise and practical while I’m standing here naked, why don’t you,” said Alex, sounding petulant even to his own ears.

  Geoff grinned, surprised. “Patient,” he said, running a single finger down Alex’s sternum and sending a shiver through his body. “I’m being patient.”

  Alex took a deep breath and nodded. “I suppose I can handle patient,” he said, then he cocked his head and grinned impishly, “as long as I don’t have to keep doing it naked.”

  “Yes, yes, clothes are through here,” said Geoff with a laugh, leading Alex to a small room where Alex’s things were all laid out on a metal exam table, and Geoff’s scrubs were hanging nearby. Geoff grabbed the collar of his white robe and winked. “All’s fair,” he said, lifting it off over his head to reveal his own, rather more fit, naked body. Unlike Alex’s fish-belly pallor, Geoff’s skin was a warm honey colour that looked like velvet stretched over the contours of muscle and sinew and bone. The shock of hair around his thick cock was a chestnut brown, darker than the stuff on his head but not by too much, the same way his hands were nearly the same colour as the skin on his taut abdomen.

  “Either you don’t get much sun, or you’re a nude sunbather,” blurted Alex, dragging his attention away from Geoff’s dusky pink nipples to his grinning face.

  “The former,” he said, snagging a pair of underwear from the hook and slipping them on, giving Alex a very nice view of his arse before hiding it all away again. “Not a lot of sun down here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Me, neither,” said Alex, gesturing to his own body, though he did take Geoff’s cue and snag his underpants from the pile while he was at it. He did turn and give Geoff the same show, since he considered his arse one of his best and most oft-hidden assets, but he was blushing at his own boldness when he turned back.

  “I like you pale,” was all he said, but Alex could see the interest in his eyes had sharpened another degree.

  “Someone has to,” said Alex with resignation that was only a little bit true, and they both began to get properly dressed again, though Alex took a bit longer, given the complexity of his clothing. He liked the watch so much he didn’t much mind the waistcoat and jacket, but he never would learn to like cravats, so he left it off this time, stiff collar hanging open and the tie pin wrapped in the silk and stuck in a pocket of his jacket. “There, now I look properly debauched,” said Alex with a wink.

  “If I wasn’t worried about your reputation,” said Geoff, opening the door back into the main infirmary hallway, “I’d show you what properly debauched really looks like.”

  “Promises, promises,” teased Alex, basking in the warm glow of being admired by someone for purely — or at least primarily — physical reasons.

  CHAPTER 10

  In Which We Are Reassured of Alex’s Recovery, and Go Shopping

  Alex arrived at his own quiet flat after reassuring Lapointe that he was fine. His head still hurt a little from all the magic, and he felt ill-used and unsure of his own mind, the former sickeningly familiar but the latter a wholly new discomfort.

  “It’s times like these that I wish I had a cat,” said Alex to the empty flat. He considered a cup of tea, but felt it better to be more sure of himself before he began handling things and spreading potential magical contagion about the place, so instead he went into his work room and beyond, to the walk-in cupboard he’d converted into a magical clean room of his own.

  Once there, he removed everything one more time, hanging the clothes on hooks and putting the other objects onto the myriad small white shelves he’d put up, each thing in its own spot. He left his wallet as is, but separated watch from chain from fob and put each on a shelf by itself. Once he was satisfied with the arrangement, he plucked a sock from one hook and let himself listen just to it, the room’s nature muffling everything else while he concentrated.

  He went through that process with each piece of clothing, finding his jacket still held just a hint of that buzzing magic around the cuffs and wondering if it would survive being purified. The silk cravat, being magically neutral, was the only piece that was perfectly quiet, not a whisper of a song anywhere in the soft fabric. Everything else held only his own aura, the deeply familiar and comforting sound of his personal magic singing quietly through the clothing he’d worn today and, in most cases, many days before this.

  Alex tossed each piece of clothing out the door once it passed inspection, though on a whim he threw the cravat around his neck and over one shoulder like a scarf before settling down to examine his shoes.

  These were more complex because they were charmed by the maker already, but Alex knew these spells intimately, having worn them on his body for years now. The black leather held spells to shine them, make them supple and breathable, to keep them from cracking or getting scuffed, and to reinforce the heels and soles, though Alex could see he’d need to get them re-soled soon. They had been a ridiculously indulgent purchase, but Alex had always wanted a pair of handmade shoes, bespoke and bespelled, so when he’d had the wherewithal he’d treated himself.

  He was very pleased to find they’d survived intact, and he set them outside the little room rather more carefully than the rest.

  Next he picked up his wallet, finding it perfectly null as it was made to be, silk-lined leather that kept his personal effects safe from scrying eyes and, apparently, malicious magic. That went into a silk bag beside him, and was soon followed by the golden watch chain, cufflinks and cravat pin, all of which were perfectly unmagical and thankfully unaffected. His mobile was also fine, though turned off at the moment, and it went into its own little silk pouch before slipping into the larger bag with the rest — he’d want to test it again once it was turned on, but it wouldn’t function properly in the insulated cupboard.

  All the other perfectly ordinary bits and bobs were fine as well, with the exception of a rather fine cotton handkerchief that seemed to have imprinted much the same way the gloves had, something he’d keep in mind for later. It went on a hook near the jacket but not touching, while the rest went into the silk bag.

  All that was left now were his keys, watch and fob. He picked up the watch fob first — though the most expensive, the charms on it were deceptively simple, and he felt himself relaxing as the chord rang out pure and clean in his head. He allowed himself a few minutes to just cradle it and clear his mind before it went into a silk pouch and, after a moment, into the bag.

  The watch, on the other hand, was quite complex, but the magical harmonies had been expertly tuned and there wasn’t a single note out of place as it marched the time forward with a rather martial air. Again, he listened for a long time, long enough to hear the places where the pattern repeated and where it wove and rewove itself continuously, and to reassure himself that nothing was interfering with any of it.

  Finally, only his keys were left, and he had to sigh. If any of his magic items had been tainted, he expected it would be these. Each one was tuned to him specifically so that only he could use it, and he’d made the keychain himself to keep them being lost or stolen. They were by far the most intimate magic item he carried on him, though he had others that he’d fortunately left home today.

  With everything else placed outside or muffled in silk, it was easy to hone in on the keys and chain, listening to the familiar snippets of song, each a variation on his own individual theme, mixed with the larger theme of whatever building or institution the key belonged to. While the whole group of them was a bit jangling and discordant, only two of the keys held that same irritating buzz, and he removed them and slipped them into his jacket, along with the key-finder charm he’d made for the ring.

  All in all, it wasn’t too bad of a loss, though it annoyed him that he’d have to remake the charm and get new keys.

  Alex put his remaining keys in the silk bag with the rest, then threw it over his shoulder and emerged into his work room. He left his discarded clothing where it was, left the bag on
a bench and strode — naked but for his improvised scarf — out into his living room, intent on finding a robe and a cup of tea.

  Unfortunately, he had a visitor.

  “What are you doing here?” he said, resisting the urge to hide himself.

  Victor rolled his eyes. “I was checking up on my brother after an accident, what have you been doing in there?”

  “I was checking over everything I was wearing for contamination,” replied Alex, refusing to let his brother fluster him. “And as you can see, I’m perfectly intact, so you can leave now.”

  “Tetchy,” said Victor, glancing at his own watch. “You never were very hospitable, though.”

  Alex just glared.

  “Fine, fine, I’m going,” said Victor, giving a last glance at Alex’s body, this time considering. “You’re more fit than I thought, perhaps you should arrange for young Julian to walk in on you next time.”

  “Out!” said Alex, pointing to the door.

  Victor smirked, but he left.

  Alex resisted the urge to just collapse on the sofa and instead went to find silk pyjamas and a matching robe, covering himself from neck to ankles in the soft, insulating fabric.

  He was glad he did, because he’d barely put the kettle on when there was a knock on the door.

  “You can’t be a relative, they never knock,” he said as he went to the door, opening it to find Lapointe waiting.

  “I’m much better than a relative,” she said, holding up a pastry box. “I have cupcakes.”

  Alex laughed. “Then you can come in, tea’ll be ready in a tick,” he said, stepping back so she could get inside. “I take it you’ve been elected to keep an eye on me?”

  Lapointe chuckled. “Smedley told me to make sure you weren’t going to sue the department,” she said, sitting at his little kitchen table and opening the pastry box. Inside rested a dozen cupcakes in an assortment of flavours, the frosting perfectly swirled and looking terribly tempting.

  He forced himself to make up the tea rather than just eat the whole box. “He didn’t want to come himself and risk being the next target of my affections?” asked Alex, amused.