by Crook, Amy
It was going to be a long night.
~ ~ ~
The Agency building was buzzing like an angry wasps’ nest when they arrived, now that one of their own had actually been injured. Jacques was elected to run in and get coffees, while Alex and James were taken down into the relative safety of the parking garage before Alex was let out.
Smedley was actually in the lobby waiting for them when they emerged, and he’d already vouched for Jacques and claimed a coffee from the tray the diner had let him borrow. “I’m starting to get what Lapointe sees in you,” said Smedley, sipping his coffee with a smirk.
“It’s certainly not my creamy mounds,” said Alex dryly, taking the coffee Jacques handed him with a quiet thanks.
Smedley chuckled and led them to the elevator, while James and Jacques exchanged slightly confused looks. Smedley took that as his cue to tell the whole story from curse to creamy mounds, and as they made their way to Smedley’s office for briefing, Jacques said, “His bottom is quite pale and pert, I must admit.”
Alex groaned as Smedley’s grin widened. “Pale and pert, hm?”
James shot Jacques an amused look. “Now, now,” he said, in a tone of mock reprimand, “you know we’re not to reveal our clients’ secrets.”
“It wasn’t a secret,” said Jacques, grinningly unrepentant. “Now they just have more adjectives.”
“You suck,” said Alex, but he was grinning as he did, holding the door for Jacques and his tray.
“No, I’m celibate,” said Jacques.
They all shared a good, heartening laugh, and then they got down to business. Lapointe was at the hospital waiting for news on Geoff, and once word got out there was good coffee available in Smedley’s office, it was easy enough to get anyone who’d been working at the time in to talk to them. Alex was putting off going to the lab as long as possible, and not just because he’d been assured Armistead was the one handling everything.
Smedley’s phone rang. He showed them all Lapointe’s caller ID, and there were a few tense moments of silence while they all waited to hear the news.
Smedley hung up, and then grinned hugely. “Geoff’s fine, lots of stitches but no permanent damage, and his doctor thinks he can keep it from scarring too much as long as our doctor follows his healing regimen.”
Everyone looked pointedly at Alex.
“Hey, I’ve been doing my PT!” he protested, waving his fancy cane at the lot of them.
“You’ve also been tiring yourself out doing magic on top of your healing,” said James helpfully.
Everyone laughed at that, and Alex sighed and stood up, leaning heavily on his cane as he did so. “If there’s another coffee left, I’m claiming it, as I’m about to go do a bit more of that. Smedley, will you come so I don’t put this through Armistead’s foot by accident?” he asked aggrievedly, waggling the cane with its shiny steel tip.
“Oh, yes,” said Smedley with a chuckle. “And your two shadows, of course.”
“Of course,” said Jacques, handing them each a cup of coffee. “That’s the last of it, so don’t spill,” he teased.
“None for you?” asked Alex.
“We want our hands free, just in case,” said James, looking quite serious, a reminder to Alex that there were two more intact devices in the lab and they’d not yet discovered how they were being activated.
“Impressive dedication,” was all Alex said, but he knew they were all thinking dark thoughts as they headed down to the brightly-lit evidence labs.
Armistead was busy overseeing the more junior techs as they took samples from his lab and passed them carefully over to one of the other labs for analysis. The whole section of corridor was taped off, drying blood liberally splashed about with an alarmingly big puddle smeared about in the middle of it all.
“What are you doing here?” said Armistead, not even looking up from where he was picking up something off the floor with plastic tweezers.
“Geoff’s going to be fine, thanks for asking,” said Smedley, his voice full of false charm. “You did say you needed to be sure none of the bits of the thing went skittering down the hall.”
Armistead huffed, deposited the evidence into a little baggie and sealed it up. “Don’t come inside the tape yet, we’re not done.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Alex.
The two Guardians took up positions at either end of the bit of hallway Alex was in, and nodded that it was safe enough for him to do his thing. Alex donned his gloves — cotton, this time, since they knew what they were looking for wasn’t touch-contagious unless he cut himself — and got out his tools. The watch fob went into the back of the glove on his right so as not to interfere with his cane, and he struck the tuning fork against the wall to produce a loud, clear note to attune his own magic to.
The fact that it would irritate Armistead was only a bonus, really.
Alex let the note draw his hearing toward the magical melodies all around him, filtering out the conversation and bustle of people, and homing in on the magic. He identified the big, low throb of the building-wards, which were old and regularly maintained and very, very good at keeping things out. He followed the threads of the various building-related enchantments, for clear light and strong supports, efficient elevators and clean floors. He followed the latter charm all around the hallway until he found what happened to the detritus that got cleaned, and pointed out the little pile of trash and dirt, assuming someone would notice his gesture and take care of it.
Then he tuned that out, too, and started on smaller magics, personal charms and magic items, then going even smaller and following all the little broken threads and bits of things that weren’t part of anything, any longer.
In the end, he found several interesting things, but other than the cache of spell-sweepings, none of them were parts of the thing that had attacked Geoff.
“What did it look like, anyway?” asked Alex, feeling his ears pop as he silenced the now-faint thrum of his tuning fork.
“Ugh, it was horrible,” said one of the techs, making a face. “Like a giant metal mosquito.” He gave a shudder.
“More insects,” said Alex thoughtfully. “Have you figured out which of the things we gathered up are of the same ilk?” he asked Armistead, trying not to sound too challenging about it. After all, the man had had weeks now while Alex was unconscious and otherwise occupied.
“No,” said Armistead, annoyed. “There’s only a few people authorised to open those boxes, so it’s been very slow going.”
“How can I get to the other side of the hall?” asked Alex, rather than pointing out that, if he was authorised, he could probably figure it out for them in about ten minutes.
“Go through that lab,” said the friendly tech apologetically. “It’s a bit of a maze, but you can come out the other side without having to step in any of the taped-off areas.”
Alex smiled. “Thank you,” he said, gesturing for his Guardians to go with him.
“Why do you rate bodyguards, anyway?” said Armistead, standing to get in Alex’s way.
“Ask them,” said Alex with a shrug. “It wasn’t my decision.”
“Mr. Benedict saved the life of a priest of the Temple of Purification, nearly at the cost of his own,” said James with great dignity. “He is to be protected until the perpetrator is no longer able to harm him.”
Alex thought that phrasing was very interesting indeed, but he refrained from commenting on it, instead using James’ intervention as an excuse to slip into the lab where Jacques was waiting. “Thanks,” he said, when James followed shortly after, leaving Armistead spluttering at the idea of Alex as a hero.
They made their way through the lab, the propped-open connecting door to the next lab, and back out on the other side, where Armistead contented himself with glaring rather than attempting to restart the conversation. Alex repeated his trick on the other side of the hall, finding the detritus from the cleaning spell and then poking around for stray bits of this and that.
He could hear a bit of the broken dissonance he associated with the insect-constructs, and he chased it down with a single-minded intensity until he ended up running straight into one of the other agents.
“Were you up here earlier?” demanded Alex, his concentration shattered.
“Aren’t you going to apologise?” countered the agent, irritation clouding his features.
“Were you wearing those trousers with the turned-up cuffs? It might be in there, if it bounced, or on the bottom of one of your shoes, or you could just be in my way,” said Alex, ignoring the man’s increasing irritation.
“What might be?” he asked, gritting his teeth.
“Evidence,” said Alex, trying to wave over a crime scene tech. “I could sense the magic, but you’re in the way so either it’s behind you or on your person.”
“I’m in the way?” said the agent. “You’re the one keeping me out from delivering my evidence,” he said, holding up the bag in his hand.
Alex froze, spotting the telltale curl of runes along what looked like a pincer of some kind. “That’s not from this crime scene?” he asked carefully.
“No, it’s from my crime scene,” said the agent. “Now, move!”
“Smedley!” yelled Alex, deliberately staying in the man’s way. “There’s been another one!”
“Another one what? Get out of my way before I move you,” said the man, reaching out to do just that.
James and Jacques appeared on either side of Alex, looking every inch the Guardians they were. “You will wait for Agent Smedley,” said James evenly. “It’s important.”
Alex breathed a little sigh of relief as he heard Smedley stomping through the maze of lab tables and swearing at idiots who couldn’t manage a straight line. “He’ll explain,” said Alex.
“He’d better,” said the other agent, very annoyed indeed. He stepped to one side as Smedley came up to them and asked, “Who is this and why is he trying to interfere with my evidence?”
“Agent Fischer, this is our magical consultant, Alex Benedict,” said Smedley with a sigh. “What’ve you got there that’s piqued his interest?”
“Evidence from my crime scene,” said Fischer, still clearly annoyed. “There’s a bunch of these little bits of metal all over, we’re going to see if any of them match the wounds on the victim.”
“They’re from one of the constructs, I recognise the magic,” said Alex. “Look at the design, it’s the same sort of runes.”
Smedley gestured for permission, then lifted up the corner of the bag and nodded. “I expect your crime scene and our crime scene are related, along with several others.”
Fischer sighed. “Figures, are you going to take it away from me?”
Smedley shook his head. “No, a fresh perspective will be good for us,” he said, “but we’ll share information, I hope?”
Fischer glared at Alex, but nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“Who’s the victim? Did he die?” asked Alex, impatient with all this interdepartmental niceness.
Smedley rolled his eyes, but Fischer answered anyway. “John Pembroke, another high-placed bigwig.”
“And the number one contender for Julian St. Albans,” said Alex.
The Guardians were too professional to look worried, but Alex felt them looming just a little more, anyway.
CHAPTER 20
In Which We Entertain a Startling Array of Visitors
By the time they finished up looking at Fischer’s evidence in the Pembroke murder, Alex was too wiped out to even consider looking at the crime scene. His Guardians called Jones themselves and bustled him home, telling Smedley that he’d be by either tomorrow or the next day to view the scene, once the techs were all done.
Smedley took one look at Alex, swaying on his feet despite the cane, and agreed.
Alex slept himself out through night, morning, and right into lunch time, and woke to the wonderful smells of Jacques’ cooking. He took his time, still feeling wobbly from staying up so late after all his magic yesterday, and so he showered, dressed and did a short meditation to calm his roiling thoughts before allowing his grumbling stomach to lead him out into the living room.
“I was starting to worry you’d died in your sleep,” teased James, sitting on the couch and fiddling with his puzzle again.
Alex chuckled wryly. “I feel a bit as if I might have, but I seem to have recovered enough to beg for food.”
“Tea and donuts to start,” said Jacques, “and I’m making soup, which isn’t ready yet.”
“You’re also to take the potion I left on the table,” called James. “No arguments, it’s a Guardian restorative, which you will drink and not analyse.”
Alex laughed. “Yes, Dad,” he teased, picking up the little bottle and listening to it for just a moment before being a good boy and drinking it down in one gulp. He washed the taste away with tea and donuts, sitting at the kitchen table to watch Jacques cook because he was pretty sure his leg wasn’t going to put up with much standing today.
“Does that make me Mom?” asked Jacques, clearly amused.
“Don’t make me come in there,” warned James teasingly.
“Of course not,” said Alex, “Murielle is Mom, you’re my other Dad. I come from a tragically broken home.”
They all laughed, and Alex was glad he’d taken the time to put himself together instead of subjecting them all to the very grumpy, out-of-sorts mood he’d been in when he awoke.
He was even happier about that when the doorbell rang, and it turned out to be quite an unexpected but welcome visitor — a rather distraught Julian.
James and Jacques faded into the kitchen together while Alex got Julian seated on the couch with him. “Are you all right?” asked Alex, after the usual hello-I-missed-you kisses.
“I’m not sure,” said Julian, leaning into Alex with a little shiver. “It’s very strange to think that someone finds me and my titles a prize worth killing for.”
“I’m sorry, I know he was one of your top choices,” said Alex, feeling like a tactless jerk but not knowing how else to say it.
Julian sniffled and giggled a little. “He was, he was nice on our dates, not so stuffy. He would’ve done well by the estate, too.”
Alex sighed and kissed his hair. “He would have, from everything I’d heard about the man,” he said, about as politic as he could make himself be, given that he’d only just realised how much he wanted Julian for himself. Enough to do right by the estate himself, even if he had to get Victor and Emmeline to teach him about it all.
Julian shivered again and snuggled closer. “His family will miss him,” said Julian with another sniffle, and Alex’s shirt felt suspiciously damp. “It’s not fair to them that he was killed for Courting me.” A little sob left him and then he was crying on Alex properly, and all Alex could do was hold him and make little soothing there-there noises.
He tried not to think about what it meant that Julian had come to Alex’s shoulder when he needed to cry.
By the time Julian had cried himself out, a tray of tea had been stealthily placed on the table in front of them, and Alex could give Julian a handkerchief and pour them both a nice, soothing cup. “I’m sorry,” he said again helplessly.
Julian looked at him and giggled. “You’re trying so hard, but you’re terrible at this, aren’t you?” he said, sipping his tea.
Alex flushed and laughed weakly, saying, “Very much so, yes. I never did know what to do with a crying person.”
“No one really does,” confided Julian, but despite his red-rimmed eyes he was looking better already for his cry. “You did fine.”
“Soup will be ready soon,” called Jacques from the kitchen. “Will Mr. St. Albans be staying?”
At Julian’s hopeful nod, Alex grinned and called back. “Yes, please.”
“You’re so nice to them, are you always like that?” asked Julian, his face not quite schooled to innocence. “It’s hard to believe you got your reputation by being such a kind man.”<
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Alex laughed. “You know very well I’m not always so kind. Godfrey loathes me, after all.”
“Godfrey loathes everyone,” said Julian with another snuffly giggle.
James deemed it safe and emerged from the kitchen. “Trust me, he’s earned his reputation, yesterday he nearly had one of the agents frothing at the mouth.”
“He interrupted me while I was working!” said Alex plaintively, but he could see no one was buying it.
Jacques came out, too, drying his hands on a dish towel and smiling. “I’m making BLTs or bacon butties, which would you prefer?”
“BLT, please,” said Julian with a smile.
“A BLT for me, extra tomato,” said Alex. “What sort of soup?”
“Special Guardian recipe, like the chicken the other night,” said Jacques with a rather exasperated look at Alex. “Lots of herbs to help restore your magic, since you insist on using it up.”
Alex ducked his head, but he was grinning. “It’s a good thing I’ve got you two to keep me from running myself ragged on caffeine and sugar, then, isn’t it?”
“Not that you haven’t tried,” said James wryly, nodding to the cup of tea in Alex’s hand, which Alex finished off defiantly.
Julian giggled. “It’s good to know you’re well-protected,” he said, and then he giggled again when a little chirping sounded from the coat rack. “Oh, Horace! I thought I’d bring him for a recharge, I mean, I know you saw him a few days ago, but, you did say…”
Alex smiled and kissed Julian sweetly. “You never need an excuse to visit me, but I’m glad you brought him, too.”
Julian got up and went over to the bird, helping Horace up onto his shoulder where it snuggled against him happily. “He likes me,” said Julian shyly.
“Much like his maker,” said Alex, standing to steal a kiss.
Jacques and James gathered the tea things and headed into the kitchen, and Julian and Alex followed, helping to set the table and chatting about the Courtship rather than the tragedies surrounding it.
At the end, as they were all nibbling on more of the donuts that had been Alex’s first course, James glanced at Alex and then spoke up. “I know it’s not my place, but have you discussed petitioning for dissolution of your Courtship with your lawyers?”