The Courtship of Julian St. Albans

by Crook, Amy

  “Definitely aspirin first,” said James, handing Alex two pills and a glass of water.

  Jacques emerged with a tray of tea for all of them, a pot of his restorative blend and a dish of leftover candied pears for Alex as well. “This should help, anyway,” he said, handing Alex the dish and a spoon.

  “I do love having a mage’s metabolism some days,” teased Alex, taking a big bite of the sweet. Jacques had added a bit of cream, too, and the whole thing was almost enough to make Alex ignore the jangle of his phone. “Are you all right?” asked Alex.

  “Fine, fine,” said Jones. “There were a couple coming for the car, but I remembered what you said and used a tire iron to smash ‘em. I wanted to ask if you needed me to get anything before you come down.”

  “No, and my Guardians want to give the car a once-over, in case one crawled in somewhere vital,” replied Alex. “We’ll be down soon. If Smedley shows, tell him to call so we can be sure it’s safe to come up.”

  “Will do,” said Jones, then he hung up.

  Alex sighed. “Right, one more bite, and then the stupid clothing shop.” Alex savoured his bite, tasting the warm spices and cool cream wrapped around the sweet taste of ripe pear.

  It was James’ phone that rang this time, Smedley letting them know they were almost there. “I’ll go out and meet them,” said James, downing his tea and standing. “You get some food into him.”

  “Will do,” said Jacques, his face serious for once.

  Alex took another bite, just because he could, then drank off half his own cup of tea and dialled up the couturier. After a bit of fluttering over the phrase “another attempt on my life,” Alex managed to get them to agree that he could come in at any point today, and they would make room in their busy schedule.

  Alex hung up and flopped back. “No going back to bed and pretending today never happened?” he asked Jacques hopefully.

  Jacques smiled at him fondly. “No, but you still have spiced pears to eat.”

  “That I do,” said Alex, sitting up to do just that.

  ~ ~ ~

  Smedley got the forensics crew set up in the vacant flat across the hall because neither Alex nor his Guardians would agree to relax Alex’s wards enough for them to go in and out. Since none of the constructs had actually made it inside Alex’s flat, they had grudgingly agreed to stay locked out while Alex was carted off for his various appointments.

  He was surprised when Lapointe insisted on going with them.

  “I can take your statement during down time at the clothing place, or lunch after, and this way no one will harass you,” she said quite reasonably.

  “We would welcome your assistance,” said James. He and Jacques had found three of the little ants in the body of the car and disabled them, and they were waiting for forensics to remove them and make sure there was no damage before they left.

  “Who am I to object?” said Alex. He was cocooned in a blanket on his couch, drinking more of Jacques’ tea while they waited. “Not having to go downtown again would be nice.”

  “I’m not sure you have the energy for PT today,” said Jacques, laying a hand on Alex’s forehead. Alex heard a little tune, a slightly more sophisticated version of the assessing magic mothers used on their children, and sat still for the intrusion. “You’re quite depleted.”

  “I should go and get the potion, anyway,” said Alex with a sigh. “But you’re right, I’m probably too done in for therapy.” He got out his phone and made yet another call; fortunately, the doctor agreed when he heard what had happened, and said he’d have another prescription ready to help combat Alex’s continued exhaustion.

  Alex supposed that was one bright spot in his day.

  Jones texted that the coast was clear, so Alex roused himself from his blankets, re-donned shoes and coat, and headed out, grateful for the cane’s sturdy support. The hallway had been cleared of “dead ants,” but Alex was unpleasantly surprised when a few came creeping out from here and there, sensing his presence outside the wards.

  His Guardians were fast learners, however, and the two of them sent out a burst of what sounded to Alex like the same dissonance he’d used earlier, making the constructs drop to the ground. One that had been creeping along the ceiling nearly hit Alex on its way, and Alex shuddered as he side-stepped it.

  “I never, ever want to see those things again,” said Alex, and then he sighed. “Which is why I’ll want one to disassemble in my own work room,” he added to Lapointe.

  She chuckled. “I’ll arrange it, but only one. They don’t seem too dangerous on their own, but we haven’t tested them for poisons yet.”

  Alex nodded, letting them be led down the stairs rather than use the elevator. “None of them touched skin. There was no residue on my trousers, but it might’ve been evaporated by the wards when I backed through them to scrape the things off.”

  “I’ve never been so glad you’re a mage,” said Lapointe with a wry smile. “They found evidence that the leak at Pembroke’s was sabotage, by the way, and signs point to it being Pembroke himself that did it.”

  “That would fit the spell on the cake,” said Alex, wishing he lived on a lower floor as they trooped down another set of stairs. Seven hadn’t seemed very high when he wasn’t too paranoid to use the elevator. “Pembroke probably wouldn’t even realise what he was doing had the potential to cause him harm.”

  When they made it out into the lobby, Lapointe went straight for Smedley and demanded that the elevator be working before they got back. Catching a glimpse of himself in the glass doors, he had to agree that he looked bloody terrible. “Does this mean I can convince you all to stop for coffee?” asked Alex plaintively.

  James chuckled. “I’m certain your couturier will provide,” he said. “I’d rather get that out of the way and get you back home safe faster.”

  “Yes, all right,” said Alex, resisting the urge to cuddle up to Jacques’ solid form and just rest there. “Yeah, okay, I’m tired.”

  Jacques chuckled. “I’ll pretend you didn’t just eye me up like a teddy bear if you will.”

  James laughed. “Come on, we can wait for Lapointe in the car.” The two Guardians were mostly watching around them, including above, and Alex could hear the thrum of their magic, the low-level spells they used to alert them to dangers. He wasn’t sure if it was stronger today, or if he was just more attuned to them, though he suspected the former. Two attempts in two days was getting a bit ridiculous, even if Alex had survived them both.

  “When’s the Masquerade?” asked James, as they exited the building. Just as Alex stepped through the door, the Guardians sent another burst of magic out, and this time Alex barely dodged a half-dozen falling ants.

  “Sunday, and warn me next time instead of distracting me,” said Alex irritably.

  James chuckled. “Habit, most charges are less trouble if they don’t know what’s coming.”

  Alex humphed, but his heart wasn’t in it. He couldn’t imagine what a wreck he’d be by now if he’d had to deal with all of this without the Guardians there to help.

  Jones was holding the car door, and, Alex was amused to see, wearing Alex’s protective amulet. “Your Guardians said it might help protect the car,” said Jones by way of explanation.

  “It would, it’s designed to encompass a vehicle since a protected person in a car crash is just as dead,” said Alex. “Keep it until this is all over, it’ll save time for our Guardians.”

  Jones nodded, looking relieved. “Yes, sir, thank you.”

  “It’s my skin, too,” said Alex with a wry smile, and then he let them shove him into the car. Lapointe joined them a minute later, and they were off. Alex leaned back against the seat and tried to summon the energy to care.

  They woke him from a light doze he’d been quite enjoying, and far too soon at that. “We’re here,” said Lapointe. “James is going to go in and inspect the place, and then we’ll follow.”

  “I’m staying with the car,” said Jones. “I b
rought a book.”

  Alex chuckled. “Thank you,” he said, then yawned and stretched while James headed out. “Why is it you usually get stuck with me?” he asked Jacques curiously.

  “I’m bigger, I can shield more of you with my body if need be,” said Jacques. “Especially if you tuck in those skinny limbs of yours.”

  Alex gave a fond chuckle. “Well, let’s hope it never comes to that,” he said, not allowing himself to think of what might happen to Jacques, were he to end up playing human shield.

  Lapointe poked around in the compartments and found the little mini-fridge, handing out bottles of water. “Hydration is good,” she said, cracking her own, “and it gives us something to do while we wait.”

  Alex laughed, digging around on his side and tossing them each a packet of snacks. Victor kept an odd stash of food in here, and Alex’s packet turned out to actually be dried apples, sliced paper-thin and turned into crisps.

  “Victor has weird taste,” said Lapointe, munching on what appeared to be banana chips.

  “He really does,” agreed Alex, but he ate his apple bits anyway, and drank his water. “I think I’m in a permanent sugar crash from yesterday,” he groused, hating how awful he felt after the unexpected, unprepared and sustained use of strong magic. Even if it was completely expected and normal.

  “This isn’t bad,” said Jacques, nibbling on his own bag, which appeared to actually be blue. “Purple potato crisps, it says.”

  “Weird,” said Alex and Lapointe in unison.

  That sparked a bout of trading off a bit of this for a bit of that, and they were in the midst of considering combinations when the door opened.

  “It’s safe enough, but try to keep it short, their wards are for crap,” said James.

  “After you,” said Alex, downing the last of his apple bits thankfully without having to try it with the weird potato crisp after all.

  “Chicken,” said Lapointe, bravely eating her last bit of banana with one of the potato things. She made a face, then slipped out of the car, looking a bit like a bodyguard herself as she scanned the street.

  “Smart,” said Jacques, gesturing for Alex to go next.

  Alex levered himself out with far too much reliance on his cane to get and stay upright, then moved enough out of the way for Jacques to follow. James led him inside without really pausing to wait, though Alex heard the car door and felt Jacques’ familiar presence behind them as they entered.

  “Mr. Benedict, I am so sorry to hear of your troubles,” said the designer himself, waiting in the main shop floor. “We have a private room set up with coffee and a little snack, your Guardian,” the man gave James a nervous glance, “approved everything.”

  “Thank you, you’ve been very understanding,” said Alex, following the man into the back where there were several smaller rooms for consultations, and the bigger one where Alex had been last time. They went into one of the side rooms this time, and James stayed outside while Jacques stood just inside, though they did pass James a coffee once the food was deemed once again un-tampered.

  “Sorry to be paranoid,” said Alex, seeing the designer’s face as Jacques checked everything again, “but I was almost fed poisoned cake yesterday.”

  “Oh, my!” said the designer, sitting and fluttering his hands. “You must have some very powerful enemies, Mr. Benedict.”

  “It’s all to do with the St. Albans case, we’re fairly sure,” said Murielle. “I’m Agent Lapointe, Alex works with us on cases sometimes as a consultant.”

  “How fascinating. I’m Gerard, of course. Now, about your costume?” said the designer, pulling out a computer touch pad. “I think you should stick to dark colours, be the man of mystery.”

  “Oh, yes, I’d look ridiculous otherwise,” agreed Alex, feeling thankful of that. “Do you know what sort of costumes are going to be acceptable?”

  “Of course, of course,” said Gerard, giving him a look that suggested it was a bit insulting even to ask. “You’ll wear a very formal frock coat, waistcoat, the whole bit, with a fancy shirt that fits your theme and a mask, and any cravat or shirt decorations will fit your mask’s theme.”

  “Ah,” said Alex with a sigh. “So, what sorts of themes do people go for?”

  “Oh, all sorts of things,” said Gerard, clearly having wanted his chance to design one of these for a long time, if the variety of photos on his tablet computer was any indication. “Animals, plants, gods and natural forces, creatures of myth and legend and actual fae, too, though one must be careful or that’s just inviting mischief.”

  “Of course,” said Alex. “I like this,” he said, pointing out a costume with a mask that covered only half the face, designed like an old-fashioned drawing of the moon.

  “Man in the moon, not very original but it would let you wear dark blue,” said Gerard, making a note. “I was hoping perhaps you’d go more avant garde.”

  “Like what?” asked Alex, intrigued despite himself.

  Gerard lit up, and he spent a moment pulling up a different folder of images. These were more abstract, but Alex could figure out what most of them were meant to represent. There was a man dressed as his own shadow, his suit and mask white in back and black in front, fading from one to the other along the sides. Another had a fantastical headpiece made of a hundred small wires suspended in the image of a whirling breeze. These tended to be the ones with more elaborate masks, but also the most interesting metaphors.

  “All right, and what did you suggest for me, then?” asked Alex, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Gerard grinned. “Magic, you need to be magic.”

  “I can’t be magic the way I see it, because I don’t, only seventy percent of mages are sight-based,” said Alex. “So, what are you thinking of?”

  “Mages and sensitives,” corrected Gerard, and then Alex got the clue. Gerard didn’t want to represent the way Alex saw magic, but the way the designer himself did.

  “So, black suit, black everything, just like the first time, only some sort of elaborate headpiece to give me a magical… something?” said Alex, wanting to make sure he understood.

  “Yes, exactly. I have a sketch already,” said Gerard, poking at his tablet again. The image that came up reminded Alex a little bit of the way James said he saw magic, glowing lines creating a halo, centring the magic on the middle of Alex’s head, like it was emanating out of him.

  “That’s going to be awfully hard to hold a conversation in,” said Alex dubiously. The Masquerade wouldn’t be a dinner, nor would anyone be expected to eat a meal wearing their masks, but they still had to dance and converse in them.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” said Gerard with a little sigh. “But you like the idea of it?”

  “I’m not opposed to it, I just think all those glowing lines would make it hard to walk, dance or talk. I’m not a runway model.” Alex rolled his eyes as Lapointe nearly choked on her coffee at that. “I have to actually function.”

  “What about something with the light as a halo in the back of your head, and a third eye mask in front,” said Gerard, thinking aloud. He lifted up his tablet and took a photo of a scowling Alex, then started to draw on it, the mask itself an asymmetrical swish of black with some sort of white dots that Alex assumed were gems or sparkles of some kind. The third eye glimmered out of the forehead, and the glowing lines were brightest at the back of his head, fading out to nothing and then a bright glow at the tip of each.

  “Huh, that’s actually not bad,” said Alex, thinking about it. He wouldn’t have to hide in one of the private alcoves to eat or drink, though he probably would, anyway, just to get away from the crowds. “What’re those?” he asked, pointing to the white dots that had begun to proliferate on his clothing.

  “Oh, diamonds, we’ll put them on the mask and suit so they catch the light,” said Gerard, as if he suggested coating one’s clothing with precious stones every day. “Don’t worry, they’ll be small.”

  “I’m just thinking I may have
to warn the accountant to raise the limit on my card,” said Alex with a wry laugh.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, the clothing will go on loan, and then it’ll be a showpiece for us afterward,” said Gerard. “I’m sure we’ll sell it to a museum if you do marry him, and if not, we’ll find a place for it in Paris.”

  “Oh,” said Alex, laughing at himself. “Well, then, diamond it up. Will you provide the accessories, too?”

  “Oh, yes, everything, though if you shine up those shoes, they will suffice. Unless… Well, if I have your permission to work from this design and your previous measurements?” said Gerard, clearly wanting to have some time alone with his creativity.

  “Yes, of course, just call me to schedule the fitting,” said Alex, downing his coffee and standing, feeling very grateful that the meeting was so short.

  “We’ll see you Sunday, too, to do your hair,” said Gerard absently, already working on a second draft of the design with a fresh photo.

  “Oh, um, all right,” said Alex. “See you soon.” He made good his escape, all of them making their way back to the front of the shop and out to the waiting car.

  “That was weird,” said Lapointe, as they settled in to head to the hospital for Alex’s check-up.

  Alex laughed, relaxing. “At least I’m not the only one who thought so. And oh, god, did I just agree to wear a shiny thing on my head and go dressed as magic?”

  “You really did,” she said with a chuckle. “But take heart, the rest of them are probably going to have costumes that are just as weird, if not weirder.”

  “You’ll look fine,” said Jacques. “He wants his creation to end up on the best dressed lists, not the worst.”

  “His reputation is at stake, too,” pointed out James.

  Alex chuckled. “I suppose so, though what fashion designers think is stupid-looking is not always the same as my own taste.”

  “Fair enough,” said Lapointe, “and of course there’ll be photos of you in that getup all over the internet, which means all over the Agency next time you swan in all posh and superior.”