by Crook, Amy
Alex was tut-tutted over at the tailor’s, but they marked up his coat and promised to have it ready within the week, so he considered that a win and had Jones take him somewhere he could eat. He almost vetoed it when they pulled up to a very nice hotel with a four-star restaurant, but he figured they’d have something with eggs in it and let himself be ushered inside by the doorman.
He even tipped.
“I have not had enough sleep for this,” said Alex, somehow unsurprised to find Victor at a table with tea already waiting.
“Nonsense, it’s a perfectly reasonable hour,” said Victor.
Alex rolled his eyes. “I was working until dawn, Victor,” he said impatiently, though he sat and poured himself tea anyway, adding extra milk and sugar just to annoy his brother.
“Ah, that consulting thing you do,” said Victor, making a face. “Well, at least it’s brought you back to us now.”
“For now,” corrected Alex, ordering a hot breakfast from the equally hot waiter.
Victor ordered his own breakfast of dry wheat toast and fruit, and fresh juice for them both. “Nonsense,” he said, after the waiter had taken his leave. “Once you’ve won the St. Albans boy, you’ll be a part of society again.”
“You do realise my participation in this Courtship is about the case, don’t you?” said Alex, taking a sip of his tea. It was good, and he wondered if it was Victor’s preferred brand or not, but wasn’t foolish enough to ask.
Victor chuckled. “You can tell yourself that all you like, but I think we both know you’re growing fond of him, or you wouldn’t have spent half the ride snogging.”
“Oh, Jones, you gossip,” said Alex with a laugh. “He’s very snoggable.”
Victor looked annoyingly smug at that, but Alex was just too tired to bother arguing with him. “I suppose you have some suggestion for where I should shop to go with the rest of your ridiculous advice?” asked Alex.
“No, no, though you might consider taking him somewhere,” Victor made a face, “more on your level, on your next date.”
“Introduce him to my boring, pedestrian tastes, you mean?” said Alex with a chuckle. “See if he might enjoy slumming with me,” he added, though Victor’s suggestion did give him the germ of an idea.
Victor was saved from answering by the arrival of their food, and Alex dug in hungrily, ignoring Victor entirely for a few minutes, until his hunger was at least somewhat satisfied.
Victor nibbled on his toast and fruit and looked amused at Alex’s hunger. “You always did have that ridiculous metabolism,” he said, and Alex thought he heard a note of envy under the carefully cultivated mockery.
“It’s the magic,” said Alex, deciding to treat Victor like a normal acquaintance for once. It was that, or start treating him like Armistead, Alex figured. “Burns calories at an amazing rate, not to mention the irregular hours.”
“Hm,” was all Victor said, and Alex got the impression he always had, that his family was vaguely ashamed of his status as a mage.
~ ~ ~
That feeling propelled Alex not to the fancy shops outside but instead back to the car.
“I’ve changed my mind, I’d like to go to the Temple of Purification,” he told Jones.
“Very good, sir,” said Jones, sounding surprised. “Is there some reason?”
Alex chuckled. “I’m still feeling a bit tainted from the spell that knocked me out last week,” he said wryly, though in truth he just wanted a bit of peace before he had to dive back into the confusing whirlwind of his Courtship. Two dates in two days was highly unusual this early, and Alex expected it would be a few weeks before he got his third date, the final one of the first round. For all he knew the case would be solved by then.
He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel trying to drop out of the Courtship after last night.
When the car dropped him off out front, Alex got out and shivered a bit in the chill air. “I can just take a cab back, if you’ve got other duties.”
Jones blinked, then nodded. “Yes, sir, do call if you need to be picked up,” he said, handing Alex a little card with the name “Paul Jones” and a phone number on it.
“Ooh, a first name,” said Alex with a grin.
Jones just rolled his eyes and closed the car door.
Alex headed into the warm sanctuary of the Temple.
He was greeted by a friendly acolyte of indeterminate gender in loose, unbleached cotton robes. “To what do we owe the honour of this visit, good mage?” asked the youth.
Alex chuckled. “I’m here to do a full purification, I was cursed last week and I’d like to make sure the magic is fully purged from my person.”
“You will be able to find some inner peace as well, I hope,” said the smiling priest who emerged into the foyer through a side door. “I’ll take care of him, Gregory.”
“Thanks, Master Stephen,” said Gregory, moving back to his station by the door.
Alex smiled right back. “Stephen, it’s good to see you. I’m sorry it’s been so long…”
Stephen chuckled. “You say that every time, my boy,” he said, leading Alex to another door. “Phone off, now.”
“Yes, yes,” said Alex, pulling it out and turning it off without another thought. Small electronics didn’t fare well in the charged air of the Temple.
He never even noticed the message light that winked out as the phone powered down.
“A full purification, Alex?” asked Stephen, leading him into a small locker room. Even Temples had to worry about sticky fingers, and each one had its own little magically-null key on a wrist-chain.
“I could use some clarity,” said Alex quietly.
Stephen’s teasing smile softened. “Then I’ll have a chamber prepared for you, just undress and go through the blue archway. And stop by my office for tea when you’re done?”
“Same office as always?” asked Alex, already removing his various personal items and stashing them in the little silk bag hanging inside the locker.
“You know the way,” said Stephen, waving vaguely on his way out.
Alex sighed, then finished undressing, socks in his shoes and suit hung in the locker as neatly as possible, until he was stark naked and already feeling a draft. He closed up the locker, put the key around his wrist, and made his way into the first chamber.
The blue tiling on the archway was unfortunately not to signify a male-only area, but instead an indicator that the cold bath was first. The pool was bigger and more beautifully decorated than the one down in the infirmary at the Agency, but it was just as hatefully cold and salty. Alex sounded a chime before getting in, and it took deep breaths and a bit of coaxing to force himself under this time, breath held while he floated weightlessly in the mineral-heavy bath.
He went under half a dozen times total before the second chime sounded, indicating he’d spent long enough and could move into the next chamber, a warm shower for rinsing away the residue. He cleaned out his ears and sinuses as before, but here there was no soap for his shower, just plenty of warm, pure water.
Another chime sounded just about when Alex was deciding he could stay there all day, and he reluctantly shut off the water and padded, wet and still naked, into the third room.
This one had a proper door at either end, because it was a wood-panelled sauna complete with a brazier of hot rocks. Alex poured a scoop of herb-laden water onto the rocks and lay back on one of the wooden benches, breathing in the sharp scent and letting the heat soak into his bones. He’d always rather liked the way they paced things at the Temple, sounding chimes to let him know when to move on without him having to talk to anyone during this part of the process.
He went through three scoops of water total before the third chime drew him out of the hot room and into yet another shower. This time they’d provided an herbal soap for him to clean the sweat off, and a towel dry off when he was done.
He left the chamber naked and damp-headed and entered a courtyard of sorts, with grass for a floor and a
greenhouse-glass roof in deference to the weather. There were purifying herbs growing along the wall on all sides, between the many archways leading into the Temple, their leaves and flowers lending a clean, bright scent to the room. Alex sprawled out in the centre of the room on his back, limbs splayed, and let his magical senses awaken.
The room was full of the tiny melodies of plant life and very little else, so Alex sunk himself deep into the slow-moving song of the earth below him, grounding himself and his magic. He kept his eyes closed so the wan winter sunlight fell on his face but didn’t disturb his thoughts, which drifted with the earth for a long time. Eventually he drew back inward, listening to his own body’s magic, thoughts slowly coalescing around the troubles that brought him here.
Namely, one gorgeous, sweet and loveable Julian St Albans.
Alex allowed himself the luxury of really imagining what his life might become, were he to marry Julian and take up the St Albans titles. He would have to learn to manage things, or hire someone impeccably trustworthy to do it for him, or convince Emmeline to stay on and do it for them. He would want to continue his work with the Agency — they paid his fees because there was, literally, no one else who did quite what he did, and his expertise had only been sharpened over the years of working on magical crimes. Except he’d also be a master-husband with a consort who needed to be kept happy, who was interested in the running of the estate itself, who kissed like a dream and smiled like Alex was amazing and…
Alex was doomed.
That thought pulled Alex’s attention outward to a strange scratching of magic not inside the little sanctuary but pulling, plucking outside the Temple’s very impressive wards, and Alex was very grateful indeed for the gong that sounded, indicating it was time for him to get a robe and continue on his journey.
He stood up and spent a moment getting used to using his normal senses, including balance, before making his way to the archway where a grinning old priest offered him one of their shapeless white cotton robes.
Alex sighed again once he was clothed. “I know it’s not protocol to speak at this time, but I’m afraid there’s something scratching at your wards.”
The old man’s eyebrows went up into his white hair. “And how would you know that, lad?”
Stephen came out of the little gong-room secreted to one side of theirs. “Alex is a very good mage, and he probably poked around a bit while he was trying to meditate. Where is it?”
Alex closed his eyes and hummed a little broken bit of tune, then pointed unerringly to the weak place where the wards let water out into the sewer system. “Over there. Do you have someone…?”
Before he could finish that thought, though, a gush of water went out and the thing slipped inside, heading right for the three of them. “And me without my shoes,” muttered Alex, looking around the bare, simple room for anything he could use to shield them.
The old man picked up his robes and went running off at an impressive sprint, hopefully to get the resident priest-mage to help.
“Can you hold it off?” asked Stephen.
“Probably not,” said Alex. “If it’s what I think it is, though, it might go dormant once it’s knocked me out, and quick medical intervention might save me.”
“Not helping,” said Stephen. “Where is it?”
Alex whistled the little tune again, the feel of it familiar enough he was nearly certain it was one of those evil little constructs. It was nearly there, though it seemed to have just as much trouble with the maze of rooms and passages in the Temple as any other visitor who attempted to wander off the proscribed path.
“It’s a construct, not a fairy or golem, and it’s nearly here. Do you have any salt or iron?” asked Alex, feeling a bit desperate. He really didn’t want to die in the middle of the Temple, he was pretty sure that was a good way to curse your entire family line for a long, long time.
If he was lucky, he’d get to haunt his murderer.
He heard the thing before he saw it, a buzzing wasp built of brass and malevolent magic, like all the insects before it. Alex stepped between it and the priest, and said softly, “If it stings me, salt will slow the bleeding, and smashing it with cold iron or something spell-reinforced will stop it.”
“I’d prefer not to have to wash your blood off my nice clean floor,” said Stephen, moving around behind Alex.
“I’d prefer that, too,” said Alex, and then the wasp moved, diving toward him, clearly aiming to sink its stinger somewhere vital. Alex dodged, trying to keep its attention away from Stephen, and thanks to the focused seeking-spell he could feel woven through it, he succeeded. It was fast, though, fast and mobile and it caught and ripped Alex’s robe several times before the first nick created a fast-bleeding wound in Alex’s shoulder.
“This way,” said Stephen, and Alex ducked again, following the sound of his voice, feeling himself weakening distressingly fast.
He almost laughed when they passed, through the mysterious ways of the Temple, back into the mineral baths. He would have, but his moment of inattention allowed the wasp to sink its stinger deep into Alex’s thigh. Stephen gave him a shove, and wasp and man both went tumbling into the cold, mineral-salted water.
CHAPTER 16
In Which We Get Checked Out in a Hospital and Checked Out of a Hospital
Alex woke up in a perfectly ordinary hospital room, in a horribly embarrassing hospital gown, surrounded by two armed Guardians and a nurse who had, apparently, been attempting to change his IV.
“Oh, you’re awake!” she said, “Let me get the doctor.” Then she left without a word of explanation.
Alex let his head fall back against the pillows with a weak laugh.
“Something funny, Mr Benedict?” asked one of the Guardians, likely hirelings of Victor’s as they were high above the Agency’s pay grade.
“I was going to ask where I was and how long I’d been here, but I suppose you’d know that as well as her, wouldn’t you?” said Alex, voice rough and throat dry.
The other Guardian brought him a cup of ice chips without even having to be asked.
“You’re at St Rita’s Hospital, magical injury ward,” said the first one. “We were sent by the Temple.”
Alex looked surprised. “Do they need me to take care of my mess or something?”
The Guardian just looked amused by the idea. “Your brother stopped by, he says this is yours?” He picked up a magical cage containing a rather unhappy-looking mechanical bird.
“Yes, that’s Horace, you can let him out,” said Alex. “What are your names?”
“I’m Jacques,” said the man who’d been feeding Alex ice chips. His voice was soft and melodic, and he looked almost shy.
“I’m James,” said the other. “We don’t…”
“Use surnames, I know, you’re pledged to your Order now. So, what did I do to rate a pair of real magical Guardians?”
“You protected Master Stephen,” said James, letting Horace out. “A lesser man might have hidden behind the priest, hoping to be shielded.”
The bird flew out of the cage and landed on one of Alex’s bed-rails, accepting a gentle caress, though Alex left its message where it was, for now.
Jacques nodded, offering Alex another ice-chip. “You guarded him with your life.”
“The construct was there to kill me, not him,” reminded Alex, but he accepted the ice anyway, and he’d take the protection, too, as long as it was on offer.
“We heard the police talking, they will attack anyone nearby if they can,” said James, his tone one of gentle correction.
Alex ate another ice chip from Jacques’ gentle fingers. “All right, I accept your Guardianship for so long as it is freely offered,” he said, the formal words from a book he’d read as a boy on the Guardians of the Temple.
Jacques giggled.
“You’re a bit of a reader, I take it?” said James, amused.
Alex blushed, but he was saved from answering when the doctor came rushing in to examine
him. “I’m glad you’re awake, I was starting to worry.”
“How long was I out?” asked Alex.
“Twelve days,” said the doctor, poking distractedly at Alex’s chart and the machines around him. “You lost a lot of blood, and then almost drowned.”
“Mineral water must be bad for the lungs,” said Alex, a bit worriedly.
“I healed the lung damage,” he replied. “I’m Dr. Chesterfield.”
Alex shook the proffered hand, unable to resist getting a feel for the doctor’s magic, which was powerful and full of complex melodies that put Alex in mind of knitting bones and winding DNA strands. “You’re that Dr. Chesterfield,” he said, impressed. “Victor’s doing?”
Chesterfield chuckled wryly. “I should claim I caught your case in the ER, but no, between the Temple and your name, they brought you straight to me once you’d been revived at the scene. Though your brothers and sisters have all been by to check up on you.”
Alex laughed, albeit weakly, his throat still scratchy; Chesterfield’s exasperated tone told him the man spoke the truth more than anything else. “Hopefully not all at once.”
“Not all at once, no,” said Chesterfield, moving in with a pen light. “Let me see.”
Alex opened wide obediently, giving James a wink. He allowed himself to be examined, including the nearly-healed graze on his arm and the very nasty puncture wound in his thigh. “Will that heal?” he asked, feeling a bit nauseous after seeing it.
“Yes, of course, now that you’re awake and can participate, it’ll only take a few weeks of therapy to get everything back in working order,” said Dr. Chesterfield, adding some magical salve and reapplying the bandages. “Your lungs were an emergency, but I’m afraid we depleted your healing reserves doing them while you were unconscious, that’s why you slept so long.”
Alex nodded, recognising the strain in his body now that he knew what it was. “I can tell. Horrid potions for a few days before my first healing session, then?”