by Crook, Amy
“Those aren’t even from the same rhyme,” said Victor grumpily, but he didn’t protest his brother’s presumption, either, so Alex figured it was a win.
The rest of the ride was blessed silence, punctuated by a few questions on the Courtship for which Alex had no answers. He was woefully out of the loop, and he’d have to talk to Flora all over again to get back up to speed, in amongst getting back on track with gifts and clothes and all the endless shopping and planning.
He had half a mind to have Julian over for takeaway curry at his place, only he’d no idea what else they’d do once the meal was concluded.
And he’d still need another bloody gift.
Alex let those thoughts go in favour of the more practical as they arrived at his flat, everyone trooping inside only to find there was no milk for tea. Victor volunteered Jones for a quick shopping run, and Alex was feeling just pitiful enough at that point to accept and make up a quick list.
“I can bin whatever’s spoiled here,” said Jacques, while James prowled around the rest of the flat. “So long as you sit there.”
Alex gratefully plopped in the kitchen chair Jacques pointed out, shoes and coat left at the door but otherwise still dressed and longing for the peace of his own bed. “That’s very kind of you, a bit above and beyond.”
Jacques chuckled and shrugged. “It’s not so bad, you’ve mostly got takeaway in their containers and bad milk, so it’s not like I have to touch anything.” He found bin bags at Alex’s direction, and started in. Fortunately, his assessment of the state of things was spot on, and he had a bag of rubbish and a nearly-empty fridge in short order.
“Flat’s safe enough,” said James, coming back into the kitchen. “Where’s the bins? I’ll take the rubbish out and check the perimeter.”
“I’m absolutely sure that’s not normally part of the service,” said Alex with a shy, grateful smile. He’d grown rather fond of the two men in their days stuck in his hospital room together, and so he appreciated the help all the more for the respect he’d developed for their skills and education.
“You’d be surprised,” said Jacques. “Lots of good opportunities for an assassin when the target’s doing mundane stuff like taking out the rubbish.”
“Tell him about that one housewife,” said James. He vanished with a box of bin liners and returned with all the rubbish from around the house consolidated into one bag, then gathered up the kitchen trash and spoiled food and headed back out, taking Alex’s spare keys with him.
“Oh, she about drove us spare!” Jacques didn’t sit, prowling around the room while he talked, clearly on the alert. “The whole family was in danger, but it was like she had OCD or something, always doing the dumbest things, cleaning windows and taking out the rubbish. Finally we had to actually forbid her from doing chores when she nearly got zapped washing pots in front of an open window.”
“And thus you became the pot-boy,” teased Alex with a chuckle.
“So now we just do it before you can,” said Jacques. He paused, then added impishly, “So to speak.”
Alex yawned hugely. “Well, I won’t be doing any it at all except sleeping. Will you two be back?”
“We’ll come by in the morning with breakfast unless the threat on you is deemed too high,” said Jacques. “You need rest, and you never sleep very well with us in the room.”
“It’s a bit weird, anyway, with one of you sleeping across the threshold like that,” said Alex, referring to the way they’d positioned a cot across the door to do night watches, much to the staff’s annoyance.
“Well, we’d do that with the front door here, we’ll be bringing something back to sleep on since there’s no extra room here.”
Alex shrugged a bit sheepishly. “Sorry, work room won over guest room when I was fixing the place up… Though actually I think my couch might fold out, I’ve no real idea.”
“We’re used to ours,” said James, coming back in from outside. “Perimeter’s clear, no sign of lurking beasties.”
There was a knock on the door, which turned out to be Victor and Jones with provisions, including Victor’s favourite brand of tea. Alex directed while everything got put away and a proper tea was made up with deli sandwiches and Battenberg cake for everyone, along with a nice big pot of Victor’s tea.
“It’s a good thing I got more than a pint of milk,” teased Victor, as they all five tucked in.
“I wasn’t thinking of feeding the lot of you when I made the list,” said Alex sheepishly, grateful for once for his brother’s interference.
“We got plenty,” assured Jones, and Alex nodded in agreement.
“Thanks,” he said, going back to his sandwich and blessedly strong tea.
The meal was mostly quiet, until Horace came tapping at the kitchen window. After checking for illusions, James let the bird inside, then closed up the window tight and handed him off to Alex. “That’s probably our cue to go,” said James, draining his teacup without bothering to sit.
Jacques followed suit, loading up Alex’s dishwasher with Jones’ help, so they were all cleaned up and ready to leave in short order.
“I’ll send Jones back in the morning for your PT,” said Victor, “but I’ll need him after three, so try not to do too much shopping.”
“After PT, I may not want to do any shopping,” said Alex wryly. “Go on, we’ll make it work. There’s always cabs, I’m sure the city’s cab drivers have grown to miss me.”
“No cabs,” said James, with surprising finality.
Victor chuckled. “The Guardian has spoken… If it comes to it, I can use another car for a bit, there’s bound to be someone on staff who can drive me around.”
It was Jones who spoke up this time. “I’ll help you pick someone, I think the youngest Sharpish boy has been wanting to do more than wash the cars.”
They said their goodbyes, then chatted on out the door, James waiting until he heard Alex lock up and put up the chain, though he took the spare keys. When they were gone, Alex slumped against the door and sighed, then meticulously doused the lights and put himself to bed, belongings haphazardly scattered on the bureau and clothing tossed over a chair when he changed into pyjamas.
He’d really missed his own bed, and as soon as he was curled comfortably up in the familiar soft sheets, he dropped off to sleep.
CHAPTER 17
In Which We Awaken Quite Unexpectedly
When Alex awoke, he expected to find one of his Guardians had tripped a ward nosing around, or his phone had finally vibrated itself off the nightstand. He didn’t expect that his questing hand would close on the body of an earth sprite, and that brought him awake all at once.
It tried to get away and he shook it sharply enough to rattle its teeth, shifting so he was holding it up by its collar. It was squat and brown as dirt, wearing bits of leaf and fur pinned together with shiny metal, and it held Alex’s amethyst cravat pin one grubby hand.
“Hey, what’d ya do that for?” protested the wriggling creature.
“You are in my bed uninvited, little sprite,” said Alex, without an iota of humour in his tone. He was still tired, his leg hurt, and he was most definitely tired of wayward magic.
The sprite sighed and went still. “Whataya want?” it asked resignedly; magical beings like sprites committed any sort of mischief they could get away with, but once caught, they were bound until their captor chose to free them.
“Give me three true answers, and I’ll set you free,” said Alex, a fairly standard bargain, and a generous one, considering the trespass. He plucked his pin from the sprite’s hand and added, “And I’ll be keeping this, and anything else you stole from me.”
It looked sheepish, but produced the matching cufflinks as well. “Almost took yon pricey magic bauble, but I figured you’d go a-scrying for it.”
“You figured correctly,” said Alex dryly. He set the creature down, and it slumped to the bedclothes, though none of the dirt on it transferred to the duvet. Alex took a moment
to pour himself a glass of water and drink it, then he considered his options carefully. Three questions wasn’t always enough, and if he wasn’t careful he’d end up having to bargain away those cufflinks just to get to the heart of the matter.
Well, best to start with the basics. “Tell me the whole story of how you came to be in my flat and past my wards, sprite.”
The sprite looked positively mournful at this. “That’s a long answer indeed,” it said. “I don’t suppose you’d spare a drop of whisky for a poor creature of the earth?”
Alex laughed. “Are you sure you want to be further beholden to me?” he asked.
It slouched further. “I were just asking,” he said with a sigh. At Alex’s impatient glare, it shifted and began its tale. “It began a moon or so ago, not long by the earth’s reckoning, ye ken, but long enough in this case. I were digging in the back of this shop for something shiny for a lady sprite, and I’d just found a nice bit o’ tin when I got caught up in somebody’s wards as they was going up.”
Alex nodded, but held back any further questions, gesturing for the sprite to be going on with it. He knew interruptions might be taken by the rule-twisting faerie as a sign that the answer was sufficient.
The sprite looked amused at that, but continued anyway. “I were caught good, and he weren’t nice like you, let me tell ya. I’ve gotta do three services, and this is me last.” He paused with a sly look, then sighed. “I sure am thirsty.”
Alex gave him a dry, unimpressed look.
“You’re a hard one, but not so hard as him as caught me last,” said the sprite, lifting his furs to show a cold iron shackle around one ankle, the flesh around it swollen and chafed.
Alex swallowed, but he still didn’t comment. It was getting harder, with questions crowding his brain, so he forced himself to answer as many as he could. The shackle, for instance, wasn’t spelled on, but since it was cold iron the sprite wouldn’t be able to pick the lock. Some of the bits of metal in holding together the creature’s strange clothing had half-obliterated runes, which meant he knew of somewhere he could get scrap metal that had once been magically charged, but was no longer, a valuable bit of knowledge for an earth sprite looking to impress the ladies.
There was more, but the sprite dropped his clothes back down and started speaking again. “I don’t know his name so there’s no use asking me that, and all three of me errands I was sent to deliver magical thingummies to places they couldn’t go by themselves.”
Alex raised an eyebrow.
“The first place was back to where I came from, which was mighty odd since it were full of other magical bits and bobs already, and I left a half dozen of his little nasties there and didn’t set them off until I was just a step from outside the wards. I were suspicious of him as has motive to send in nasties like them, and he were right surprised when I turned back up, let me tell you.”
More and more interesting. Six of the things, two of which had activated, if his guess as to the location in question was correct.
The sprite seemed to be enjoying his audience now, getting into the meat of the story, and he continued on without prompting. “He weren’t too happy at first, but he had three of his nasties left, so he sent me first to visit one of the big temples, but them has wards against the likes of me so I had to leave it and come back unsuccessful, though I did what he asked to the best of me ability so the agreement was fulfilled,” he said, and Alex could tell he wasn’t sure that the mysterious mage was going to agree.
“And that brings me here, there’s a nasty surprise hiding somewhere about and I were surprised to be getting in at all, but careless tsk tsk, your wards bent to me and my tricks.” The sprite looked very smug about that, and Alex felt that this was an obvious warning to make the effort to upgrade all his wards, and soon.
“Careless me,” said Alex. He phrased his second request just as carefully. “Now, tell me everything you can remember about the mage, including the location where he caught you, his exact instructions to you, and any business you overheard of his.”
“Oi, that ain’t sporting, putting in all them ands,” said the sprite, looking sulky again, but he launched into another litany, punctuated as it was by sighs, dark looks, and the occasional sulk.
Alex kept paper and pen by his bedside; he had a tendency to either get ideas as he was falling asleep, or be woken up by a call from Lapointe with an address he needed to be at. He took careful notes, which seemed to surprise the sprite, and Alex was pleased that the instructions were only to be to deliver the nasty surprises and activate them, not to return and report anything. Apparently this mage was arrogant enough to believe that his creations would take care of everything, without the need for further information about his enemies.
“You still have one true answer to give me,” said Alex, when the sprite’s recitation had wound down, “but I need to make a phone call, so I will let you have either a cup of tea or a dram of whisky with no obligation.”
“And if a body wants a bit of both?” it asked, clearly curious.
“Then I might have another bargain for you, now that your obligation to your previous captor is concluded, and once I’ve had my third answer,” said Alex with a smirk.
The sprite laughed, clearly pleased by Alex’s manner. “All right, then, I’ll be taking the tea. Whisky’s far better for a bargain,” he said.
“This way, then,” said Alex, sparing him the indignity of being carried about like a doll. They made their way into the kitchen, and Alex said casually, “If that nasty surprise murders me, I can’t remove your new little anklet for you.”
“I told ye I don’t activate the nasties until I’m nearly gone myself,” said the sprite just as casually.
“I’ve got Harrods, either British Breakfast or Earl Grey,” said Alex, putting enough water in the kettle to make a whole pot. “I’ve no real preference for one over the other.” He didn’t mention Victor’s nice tea, figuring he’d best save that gift for sucking up to the giver.
“I ain’t had a good Earl Grey in ages,” said the sprite, looking very interested indeed.
Alex grinned and got down the box, getting out the pot and rummaging in his fridge for milk, setting that out with honey and sugar both. The little folk were known for their love of honey and milk, and Alex was keen to be seen as generous. He might have resented being woken up in the middle of the night, but now all he cared about was the benefit he could get from it.
Once the tea was steeping, he pulled out his phone and called, not Lapointe, but Smedley. “I know I’m supposed to be resting, but I need one of those special evidence boxes delivered to my house. I know how the devices were placed, and there’s one here.”
Smedley didn’t even bother to scold him, just gave him an ETA and hung up. Alex cursed himself for not getting a number for his Guardians before sending them away, but then, they’d all thought his wards were up to the task.
“Clever man, you are, for all your wards are shite,” said the sprite, echoing Alex’s thoughts.
Alex laughed and set out three different-sized cups, letting the sprite choose his first. They both added milk to the bottom of their mugs, Alex going for sugar while the sprite spooned in a ridiculous amount of honey, then Alex topped them off with the nice, strong tea. “Mmm, nothing quite like a good strong cuppa,” said Alex, putting his tatty tea cosy over the top of his pot. It might not be in the best shape, but it still kept the tea warm, and Smedley — or whoever he sent over to collect the nasty — would be grateful to use the third, mid-sized cup.
The sprite had taken the small one, evidently preferring ease of use over quantity of drink, something Alex would reward with refills.
Alex let them both just enjoy their tea for a moment, trying to think what the third question might be. He’d already learned all he would about the mysterious wizard and his devices, though frustratingly the man didn’t fit the description of any of Alex’s suspect list, which might mean everything or nothing.
A
lex sipped his tea then froze as a bit of movement caught his eye. “Are you sure he can’t activate them without you?” asked Alex, trying to think if he knew any good defensive charms against such things. He wasn’t wearing his charmed shoes now, and he doubted that silk pyjamas would be much of a defence against the sort of device that had killed the shop owner.
The sprite went so still he almost vanished from sight. “Not totally sure, no.”
“And this one was left where?” asked Alex, feeling the sprite might answer one extra question to help save his own skin.
“Mantel,” said the sprite shortly. “Sort of a scorpion-looking thing, nasty bugger.”
Alex saw something skitter up the door frame. “The mantel is bare,” he said, moving very slowly toward the stove.
Everything seemed to happen at once after that — the doorbell rang, the sprite vanished, the device leaped from the edge of the door, and Alex grabbed the cast-iron frying pan on the stove and smashed the thing flat against the refrigerator door.
Iron was proof against more than faeries, after all.
“Ooh, good shot,” said the sprite, who was perched atop the appliance in question.
Loud knocking issued from the front door. “Benedict, what’s going on in there?” said Smedley’s familiar, tired voice.
Alex whistled a little tune and the set-spell on the door caused it to unlock. “You’re a bit late,” said Alex, as Smedley dashed into the kitchen, gun out and eyes vigilant.
Smedley laughed. “A frying pan?” he asked, putting his gun away.
“Cold iron,” said Alex. “Best get the box ready anyway, in case there’s any life left.”
“I can’t wait to tell Lapointe about this,” said Smedley, watching for any sign of movement as Alex pulled the pan away from the now-dented fridge. The pieces fell to the floor and lay unmoving, the spell broken just as thoroughly as the mechanics.
They used a broom and dustpan to get it all into the box, then Alex poured Smedley his own cup of tea, fixing up a second cup for the sprite as well and casually putting it atop the fridge.