The Courtship of Julian St. Albans

by Crook, Amy

  The applause surprised him into blushing, a part of him having forgotten about their audience entirely between the magic and his desire to impress Julian. “I think they realise,” said Alex with a laugh and a bow.

  They took their seats, and the bandmaster came to thank them for the show, and insisted on tearing up their tab. “People will talk for months about it, and the dancing will be popular again for a while, even if you don’t come back,” he said with a grin.

  “I’m glad it wasn’t an intrusion,” said Alex, still unable to quell his blush. “I hadn’t really considered how it might appear to anyone but my date.”

  Julian grinned. “You’ve managed to impress more than just me, Alex,” he teased.

  A few more pleasantries and they were able to escape, though he left a bit of cash on the table so the waitress, at least, wouldn’t miss out on her tip. He suspected she’d appreciate the money more than the show, unlike the business-minded bandmaster.

  “Well,” said Alex, as they rode down the elevator alone and he finally managed to stop being quite so embarrassed, “I can see I’ll have to work on something more impressive than butterflies next time.”

  Julian laughed and kissed him all the way to the ground floor, which he felt was worth every blush.

  CHAPTER 15

  In Which the Evening Ends, and There is a Long Night at Work

  Followed by an Attempt at Purification

  The ride home was quiet and uneventful, mostly chatting about inconsequential things between sweet, tempting kisses.

  “I can’t decide if it’s good or bad that I’m terribly jealous to think of you kissing those other suitors,” said Alex, as they pulled into the St. Albans driveway.

  Julian grinned and kissed him again before saying, “Definitely good.”

  Alex chuckled. “Shall I walk you to your door?” he asked, the car slowing to a stop.

  “I’d like that,” said Julian, “though I’m the one with the warm coat.”

  “A mere inconvenience,” said Alex, getting out first and helping Julian out, then tucking his hand in Alex’s arm and leading him up to the door. “Think of me fondly, and do try to give me a few more days’ warning next time?”

  Julian laughed. “I’ll set your third date as soon as I can, as an apology,” he said. He gave Alex one more kiss, this one sweet and chaste. “See you soon.”

  “See you soon,” said Alex, mentally hoping it wouldn’t be too soon. He had no more gifts conveniently ready, and no idea how to follow up on tonight’s performance.

  Godfrey opened the door and Julian ducked inside before Alex could think of anything more to say, so he went back to the haven of Victor’s car to check his messages. “Home, please,” he said to the driver.

  “Of course, sir,” came the reply, as though there had never been any doubt of his destination.

  Alex’s messages alternated assurances he wasn’t needed with irritating questions from the department about the various pieces of evidence from the murder scene, and finally Alex lowered the partition with a sigh. “I’m afraid I’ll need to go by the department, will I be able to borrow you much later or should I let you go once I’m there?”

  “Why do you ask?” said the man carefully, and Alex couldn’t help but be darkly amused. Victor probably had the man reporting back to him, knowing Alex wouldn’t be all that forthcoming, and he’d want to make sure his report was complete.

  “Well, you know, better to have my own car than take a taxi at that hour, but I won’t be doing anything of interest to Victor, just boring murder-solving,” said Alex dryly. “Mostly I was wondering if I should take the coat.”

  “If I might ask, sir, why did you bring it if not to wear?” The man’s face, or what Alex could see of it in the rear-view mirror, was carefully blank.

  Alex laughed. “I’d forgotten it needs tailoring, it doesn’t quite fit my freakish frame, and it would have been noticeable.”

  “Shall I drop it off at the clothier’s tomorrow for you? I believe they have your measurements.”

  Alex chuckled. “No, but if you’re not busy with Victor I might have you drop me and it both off. I’ll need to do some more shopping and it’s all in the same neighbourhood.”

  “More shopping, sir?” said the man.

  Alex’s chuckle turned to a laugh. “Yes, it’s endless, isn’t it? I need at least one more gift, and probably more than that, and I’m trying to learn enough about my quarry that I don’t misstep in my pursuit,” he said. “What’s your name, anyway?”

  “Jones, sir,” said the driver.

  Alex snorted. “Well, at least it’s not Jeeves. Anyway, why don’t I let you go tonight and then I can see if I can weasel another favour out of Victor tomorrow,” he said, seeing the agency building up ahead. “Smedley might take pity on me and drive me home, if I manage to solve enough little mysteries, or annoy Armistead too much.”

  “Very good, sir,” said Jones, and that seemed to be that.

  Alex fired off a last text to Victor, then put on the coat and got out. “Make sure you tell him about the kissing, I love it when he makes that face like he’s far too refined to be bothered by it,” said Alex with a chuckle.

  He was pleased to see Jones look surprised at that before he scampered into the agency and went looking for Smedley.

  “Don’t you have a life?” said Alex, finding the Agent in his office staring confusedly at a pile of evidence bags.

  Smedley chuckled. “Only between active investigations,” he said.

  “So, I take it you tried to half-arse the system and now you can’t figure out what’s what?” said Alex, hanging up the overcoat and coming over to sit on the edge of Smedley’s desk.

  Smedley looked shifty. “What makes you say that?”

  Alex fluttered his eyelashes and said, “Whyever else would you want to get me alone in your office late at night, Agent Smedley?”

  Smedley laughed, as he was meant to. “Fine, fine, I got sloppy. Can you help?”

  “Of course I can,” said Alex, “but I’ll need coffee, a fresh pot.”

  “If you can get this crap off my desk, you can even use my mug,” said Smedley, levering himself up out of his chair.

  “Deal,” said Alex, picking up the first bag and palming his watch fob, which helped cut through the plastic to the magic inside. He was already making proper notes on the front of the bag when Smedley slipped out, presumably to get his coffee.

  “Just put it here,” said Alex idly, gesturing to the bare spot on one corner of the desk. He was still perched on the edge, bag in hand while he tried to figure out what on earth Smedley’s location notes could be referring to, matching magic to memory.

  “I don’t think you get to tell me where to put it, Benedict,” said an unpleasantly familiar voice.

  “Armistead,” said Alex, turning. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

  “I was looking for Agent Smedley, this being his office and all,” said Armistead. “Or are you going to move in now you’ve broken your last agent?”

  Alex waved him off. “She’s already on the mend, I’ll have her back taking competent notes in no time,” he said, and then, “Ah! That’s what that means.” He added to the notation on the bag in his hand, then set it aside and picked up the next one, trying vainly to set Armistead aside as well, at least mentally.

  The man was always so distracting, standing there radiating disapproval at him. It was worse than Lapointe’s smoking, and he couldn’t exactly make a charm to turn Armistead’s personality around. It wouldn’t be ethical.

  Though he was occasionally tempted.

  “Well?” said Armistead.

  Alex looked up, irritated. “He’s obviously not here.”

  “Where is he, then?” asked Armistead, with the tone of one speaking to a recalcitrant child.

  “Wishing you’d get out of his way,” said Smedley. “It’s no wonder he won’t work with you.”

  Alex hid a smirk and went back to his paperw
ork. “I trust you remember how I take it?” he asked, as Smedley’s giant mug was set down next to him.

  “Sweet enough for a candy store, and half milk,” said Smedley with disgust, sipping his own black coffee out of Lapointe’s favourite mug.

  Alex chuckled. “Good,” was all he said, and he took a nice big sip and tried once again to dismiss the distractions from his mind. It never worked as well when he wasn’t doing magic, more’s the pity.

  “What’s he doing here, anyway?” said Armistead, hostile to the last.

  Smedley chuckled. “He’s fixing the evidence notes that I messed up, as you requested.”

  Armistead spluttered. “Him? You messed up? As if-”

  “Do shut it, Armistead,” said Alex, without looking up.

  “I didn’t understand the system fully, and I messed up the notes, since Lapointe was in hospital, or had you forgotten?” said Smedley, his voice mild and yet somehow dangerous. “Now, what was it you wanted?”

  Alex wondered if he could learn to emulate the tone.

  “I wanted to ask you about this,” said Armistead, pulling another bag out of his pocket. “It says here-”

  “Toss it on the pile, I’ll fix the notes,” said Alex, enjoying the freedom to continually interrupt the man’s blathering.

  Smedley took the bag and shooed Armistead out without another word. “It’s no wonder he won’t work with you, either, you two are like bickering children,” he said, adding the bag in question to the top of Alex’s pile.

  “I’d say he started it,” said Alex, making some notations on the bag in hand before moving on to the new one, “but I honestly can’t remember anymore.”

  The rest of the night was more of the same, Alex and Smedley drinking coffee and fixing evidence forms, punctuated by Armistead bringing in more bad attitude and messed-up baggies. It was pretty much morning by the time they were done, so Alex convinced Smedley to take him down to the infirmary to look in on Lapointe before driving him home.

  She was not only awake, Geoff was there with her. “That’s a beautiful piece of work, where’d you get it?” asked Geoff, pointing to the quit-smoking charm visible over Lapointe’s smock.

  “I made it,” said Alex, slipping into the room now that he was sure he wasn’t going to interrupt an exam.

  Geoff grinned. “I can see why they hire you, then, how much was it?”

  “We did a trade, I made the charm and she has to actually quit now,” said Alex, straightening his cuffs fastidiously.

  “How is that a trade?” asked Geoff, cocking his head.

  Lapointe grinned. “He hated it when I smoked at crime scenes, said it muddied up the air.”

  “Smoke is smoke, it obscures things,” said Alex with a sniff.

  “But I’ve seen some mages who deliberately smoke when they’re working,” said Geoff. “It never really affected me one way or the other, that I’ve noticed.”

  “Sometimes the smoke lets sight mages see better when the magic interacts with the smoke, I’ve been told,” said Alex. “Others who sense magic as currents around them can track the currents within the smoke, though that’s about as rare as your talent for touch.”

  “But smoke interacts with the magic?” asked Smedley, equally curious now.

  Alex nodded. “It doesn’t so much affect as is affected by magic around it. Air is, too, though it’s much harder to notice. Water can wash magic away, unless it’s specifically water magic to begin with.”

  “Metal seems to be a popular choice,” said Smedley.

  “There’s more in there than metals, but yes, it’s easier to freeze magic into a shape with something earthy like metal or stone.” Alex chuckled. “And most mages don’t have the capacity to melt stone in their labs.”

  “What about carving stone?” asked Lapointe.

  Alex grinned, surprised to find himself enjoying the discussion despite the ridiculous hour. It wasn’t often that he got to talk about magical theory to people who were actually interested. “Hard to mix in anything with a solid block of stone, though for certain charms you can do okay with just one material. There’s inlay work, too, though I’ve never been very good at it.”

  “I bet it’s fascinating, watching you work,” said Geoff.

  Alex flushed and shrugged. “I expect not, it’s mostly a lot of tuning forks and humming, and putting stuff into a pot and stirring it up. Well, crucible in the case of charms,” he said, “but a pot for most potions.”

  “Well, if we don’t want him to fall on his nose like magic now, I’d best take him home,” said Smedley, levering himself up out of the visitor’s chair he’d been occupying. “And me, too.”

  “When will you get sprung?” asked Alex, standing and stretching himself.

  “A few more days, I want to keep her on IV fluids a while longer. You can cheer her up later with a proper meal, once you’ve slept,” said Geoff, making shooing motions. “At least eight hours, both of you,” he paused and chuckled, “in separate beds.”

  Smedley made a properly disgusted face, as he’d been meant to, and Lapointe laughed. “Go on, you two, I’ll be fine. He said he might let me do some paperwork later.”

  “Be still my heart,” said Alex with a laugh.

  They said their goodbyes and left, Alex’s mind still buzzing with more magical theory, and how it related to their current case.

  It turned out work was the one thing that could make him forget the softness of Julian St. Albans’ lips, at least momentarily.

  ~ ~ ~

  When Alex got home, he decided to take the initiative and use up the rest of his caffeine high writing to Julian. He penned a short, awkward note that only mentioned the kissing once, and felt like an idiot to be so affected by such thing at his age. Then he got one of his few truly complex magical possessions out of its cage, a magical sparrow that would hold the note inside itself and fly to the recipient, then wait for a response.

  It had been a project assigned to him by one of his magical instructors, and it had taken him months to complete the delicate sculpture, each thin bronze feather made by hand and etched with runes that would anchor the complex series of spells he’d constructed. It was, in a way, very similar to the constructs that had killed the artificer and injured Lapointe, but for a benign purpose.

  “You’re finally going to get some use, Horace,” said Alex, stroking the bird’s metal breast. “I bet you get bored, in that cage all day.”

  It stroked its head against his hand, and he could hear the magic inside it conveying a sort of affection to its creator. He opened the door in its breast and slipped the folded note inside, then closed it up and gave its head another stroke. “Can you still read addresses?”

  It made a little metallic chirping sound, and gave him a reproachful look.

  He chuckled. “Sorry for doubting you,” he said, taking it to the window. “I’ll see you soon, all right?”

  It chirped again, then launched itself into the sky with all the grace of a real bird, for all that it was animated and buoyed by magic.

  Alex sighed, shut the window, and got ready for as much sleep as he could manage before someone demanded his day begin.

  ~ ~ ~

  Victor woke Alex at an ungodly hour, to tell him the driver would be there in half an hour to take him on the errands he’d totally forgotten he still needed to do. Alex groaned and levered himself out of bed, promising his body a nap later while he took a quick shower and dressed in the easiest of his new clothes, the black suit from the Courtship banquet with a crisp white shirt rather than the black one he’d worn that night. He was just adjusting his cravat when the driver rang up, and he barely remembered to grab both coats — one for cleaning, one for tailoring — on his way out and down the stairs.

  “Your coffee, sir,” said Jones, handing him a steaming cup and taking both coats, making a face at the state of the bloodied one.

  Alex blinked, then took a sip. “Wow, you really are good,” he said. “Cleaners first, I think, I
usually use Bradford’s over on Second, they’re used to me.”

  “Very good, sir,” said Jones, and for a moment Alex wondered if he was being corrected until he realised it was just bland agreement.

  Alex chuckled and slipped into the warm limo and drank his hot coffee and tried to feel properly human. He found that the little luxuries really did help, when you’d had as little rest as he had.

  Then he wondered if his convictions were failing him as he got older, and found he really hadn’t had enough caffeine to care.

  A few minutes later the car stopped and the door opened. “Did you wish to go into the cleaners yourself, sir?” asked Jones, obviously finding the very idea gauche.

  “Of course,” said Alex, relishing the familiar disapproval and the rebelliousness that still rose up in him. “I’ll only be a moment.”

  He got out while Jones retrieved the coat for him, then Alex took it inside and got a warm greeting from Mrs. Bradford. “There’s more blood than usual this time, can you save it?” he asked, laying the coat on the counter and pulling yet more things out of the pockets, the result of a long habit of trying to have everything on hand he might possibly want.

  “You’ve gone and let it dry, haven’t you?” she said, tutting as she examined the smudged and stained coat. “Well, we’ll see what we can do, black hides any number of sins, doesn’t it, dearie?”

  Alex laughed. “I thought it just made me look dashing,” he said, posing in his new finery.

  “Bit posh for a detective, I should think,” she said, but he could tell she appreciated the fine fabrics and excellent tailoring.

  “I’m Courting a young man, I’ve got to go posh,” he said with a sigh.

  She giggled. “Oh, you aristos and your traditions,” she said, flapping her hands at him. “You go on, I’ll have it done tomorrow or not, as the case may be.”

  “You’re a doll,” he said, kissing her cheek and pocketing his possessions as best he could; it was rather a lot for the slim lines of the suit. She bustled into the back with his coat and he made it back to the limo without dropping anything, and they were off to what he was sure Victor considered a proper tailor to have his good coat made wearable.