by Crook, Amy
Alex was also listening as best he could, but the fog muffled his magical senses as well as physical, and the plethora of magic in the room made the perfect camouflage. It wasn’t until they got his head above the worst of it that he saw the cleverness of their attack. In addition to the fog, there were dozens of mechanical spiders spinning their way down from the high ceiling where they’d likely been waiting all evening, hidden among the decorations.
“We’ve got to get to Julian,” said Alex, and now he was the one tugging them along. The fog was reaching tendrils up toward the balcony and at least one of the spiders was about to land in Julian’s branches, the tall costume a disadvantage now that they were being attacked from above.
“We’ll back you up,” said James, and Alex’s ears popped long enough to hear the sounds of the crowd panicking below, giving Willoughby and Duckworth the perfect opportunity to escape.
“I hope someone’s backing them up,” said Alex darkly. He ran up the rest of the stairs and toward Julian, hearing the swish-clang behind him of at least one of those wicked spiders meeting a swift end. A spider had latched onto the branches and was creeping toward Julian’s face while the young man worked at the buttons of his coat.
Alex’s heart leapt just as the spider did, and he was shocked when Horace launched himself out of the branches to knock the spider away and over the balcony into the fog.
Julian slipped out of his coat and then came to hug Alex tightly. “I almost said Willoughby,” he said softly. “Horace saved me twice.”
James and Jacques crowded in behind them, circling around the two of them on the small balcony. Most of the spiders had stopped descending out over the crowd and were climbing back up their own threads to the ceiling, and then toward their little oasis of peace.
“Horace will be fine,” said Alex. “I can fix anything that breaks.”
“We need to stop this at the source,” said James. More and more of the spiders were converging on their location, and the two Guardians could only cover so many fronts. They were mostly using swords, though James had a gun in one hand and was using it to shoot some of the spiders that were hanging just out of reach, waiting for the four of them to try to move off the balcony.
“Duckworth made them,” said Alex, “but I’d bet anything he’s controlling the fog while Willoughby takes care of the spiders.”
The fog was thickening below them, surging at the balcony railings, repelled for the moment by the same charm that prevented clumsy partygoers from toppling over them. Alex wasn’t sure what the fog was going to do once it got to them, but he had a feeling its purpose wasn’t just to blind and befuddle.
“We need to get out of here,” said Jacques, evidently coming to the same conclusion. “Where does this mezzanine go?”
“Off to the other side there’s the little room where Emmy and I rested,” said Julian, “but it’s a dead end, I don’t know what’s to the right.”
“To the right it is,” said James, and he began clearing a path in that direction while Jacques got out his own gun and started shooting some of the spiders off in the distance. Alex started humming again, pulling Julian close to him and adding a bit of oomph to both Julian’s Keep-Safe charm and Alex’s own protective charm. He kept an eye out on the floor and managed to squash one spider that had climbed up onto the balcony from below, the construct sneaking through the safety wards where the fog was thwarted.
As they got out of the little balcony area and onto the main mezzanine, there were more spiders, and the fog had worked its way up the stairs, masking their progress. Alex used his cane to knock one away from James’ ankle, but he was starting to really wonder how many of these they could cope with. He hummed again, trying to get the lights to brighten, trying to see if Horace was okay, but mostly he was just trying not to completely panic.
Julian seemed to have achieved a state of numb calm, and looked terribly vulnerable with no weapon or even a jacket. The spiders had swarmed over his discarded costume and then ignored it when it proved to be empty. Alex pulled Julian in close to his side, too busy trying to keep the light spell building to say anything.
When Alex felt a weight settle onto his shoulder, he nearly bashed it with his cane before a familiar voice said, “Oi! You don’t want to be doin’ that, now.”
“Con, what are doing here?” said Alex, though he knew the little fae could take care of himself well enough. Not that Alex could even see him at the moment.
“I owes ye a third bit of info, and I noticed that them there spiders don’t go much near yon fountain boy an’ his running water,” said Con, voice smug. “But you kin wait on yon bauble until you’re well again, you’re running on empty.”
“Tell me about it,” said Alex, suddenly acutely aware of his own dwindling magical reserves. “You’re a lifesaver, Con.”
“A fairy always pays his debts,” said Con, and the weight vanished.
Alex changed his tune to a spell any first-year magic student could do and conjured a nice, smoky little bit of fire right up by the sprinkler above them. He spread a few more throughout the hall, just in case the system was segregated, and it didn’t take long before the whole place and all the expensively rented or borrowed costumes were deluged with waves of conjured water, clean and clear but very thorough.
The spider constructs started to stutter in their movements, the ones still hanging from the ceiling failing first as they dropped to the floor with clatters that echoed strangely in the fog. The ones crawling up over the balcony tried to retreat beneath it, but Alex put a little fire there, too, and the spells directed a nice wash of water over them. Running water could disrupt magic, and Alex had to keep re-lighting his little fires as they went out, but the effort paid off. The spiders began to literally fall apart, too hastily constructed for the spells to be properly anchored in the metal or, apparently, for the metal body parts to be attached with anything but magic.
“I hate getting my uniform wet and I still adore you,” said Jacques, still tugging them toward the door and their presumed escape.
“My cleaner can fix it,” said Alex, bashing a few more spiders with his cane. These crumbled into parts when he hit them instead of rolling away and re-gathering their strength as before.
“I hope so, these are dry clean only,” said James. The fog, far from being dispelled by the water, was getting closer, and James was doing something with his Guardian badge to make it generate light.
“I’ll get the door,” said Julian, darting forward out of Alex’s grip before Alex could protest.
“I’ll get you,” said Willoughby, trying to tug Julian through the now-open doorway. “I’ll have you no matter how you try to thwart me, my little consort.”
Julian had hooked his hand in Alex’s jacket pocket much as Alex had earlier with James, and Alex felt a pure surge of love for his Guardian as he said to Julian, “Reach in.”
“He’s not magical enough to resist the fog and my mask both,” said Willoughby, irritated. Julian was struggling against himself as much as Willoughby, trying to pull away, drop his gaze, and resist the spell.
Alex grinned as Julian slipped his hand deeper into Alex’s pocket. “You can do it,” he said, glad to see Willoughby was still interpreting it as directions to resist the man’s spell.
Julian froze for a moment, all his struggles turned to stillness before his hand moved inside Alex’s pocket. “I’m not yours,” said Julian, pulling Jacques’ knife out and plunging it into Willoughby’s side.
Alex pulled Julian away, and James took over, knocking the man out and stripping off his mask, which Alex helpfully crushed under one bespelled shoe. Jacques guarded the mezzanine side of their little group, but the spiders seemed to have fallen completely with their master.
“There’s still Duckworth,” said Alex, watching as the fog thickened even more. Alex whistled up his headdress, and the glow of it cleared things enough that Alex heard a yell from the stairs that sounded familiar. “Up here!” he yelled ba
ck.
“Target!” said James, sounding supremely annoyed.
“Benedict, where in the blazes are you!” came the voice again, more clearly the bellowing of one Agent Smedley.
“We have Willoughby, get Duckworth!” yelled Alex back.
A moment later, Smedley’s bulk took shape in the fog, flanked by a pair of the dress-uniformed police officers who’d been providing security tonight. “Where is he?” asked Smedley. “All those spider-things just fell apart.”
“A little faerie told me they were vulnerable to running water,” said Alex smugly.
The two officers were already following Julian, who was looking white as a sheet, but led them to the bleeding, unconscious Willoughby with Jacques’ dagger still buried in his side. “He’ll need an ambulance, the Guardians did a number on him,” said one of the officers.
“Lots of people here will get to go first,” said Smedley, “but I’ll make sure it’s noted.” He turned to Alex and the two Guardians, who were still on alert but looking quite pleased to no longer be outnumbered and cornered. “Can you take these two into the consort’s little powder room and keep them both safe?”
“We can,” said James, grabbing one of Alex’s elbows.
“We will,” said Jacques, grabbing one of Julian’s.
Alex was still dubious about the fog, something bothering him about the way it had been repelled by the anti-falling spells when Horace and the spiders went right through them. Still, it was thinner by the other door, and hadn’t penetrated the little conference room at all, so who was he to argue. The room was even dry and spider-free.
“I don’t suppose you know a good drying spell,” said Julian, as Alex once again allowed his headdress to recede, hoping that was the last time tonight he’d be called upon to wear the stupid thing up.
Alex pulled off his mask and sat, then nodded. “I do, but I’m going to have to borrow a bit of magic from each of you to do it, because I’m about done.”
Julian put his hand trustingly into Alex’s outstretched one, and it was easy enough to whistle the water in their clothes into vapour, making the room a bit steamy. He did each Guardian as well, then sat back and closed his eyes with a sigh.
“Are you angry with me?” asked Julian worriedly.
“What? No, what would I be mad about?” said Alex, confused.
Julian blushed. “Well, we are engaged now.”
Alex laughed. “That is not something to be upset about, Julian, I told you I wanted to win you and I meant it.” He opened his eyes, intending to lean forward and give Julian a kiss, but then his brows furrowed. “Why’s it so misty in here?”
“I thought that was your steam-spell,” said James.
“That ought to have dissipated by now,” said Alex, trying to dredge up one more bit of energy to fight. “This is the fog, look.” He was just so tired, and it would be so easy to rest right here.
“It’s coming in under the door,” said Jacques. He pulled down one of the tapestries and tried to stuff it along the crack, but the fog just kept on coming.
“How does it even know where we are?” said Julian, sounding as tired as Alex felt.
“That’s the question, isn’t it, little fox?” said an annoyingly familiar voice. “How do I know where you are, how can I keep targeting everyone you love, how will it all turn out?”
Alex turned to see the fog coalescing in the far corner, flowing faster and faster until a figure formed. Suddenly it all made sense — Duckworth wasn’t making the fog, Duckworth was the fog. “Clearly you weren’t spanked enough as a child,” said Alex, pulling up the full force of his most irritating persona. “Did Daddy treat you like you were invisible? Did Mummy ignore you?”
“Shut up, none of this would be necessary if it wasn’t for you,” spat Duckworth. “Willoughby almost had him, and then all the ripe power of the St. Albans lands would have been mine, while he got his money and his little toy.”
“Except Julian turned out to have more of a spine than either of you,” said Alex. “Look at you, you can barely hold yourself together as a solid, let alone a man.”
“Shut up!” yelled Duckworth, his outline blurring and twisting in on itself. “Always talking, you love the sound of your own voice.”
“And you hate the sight of your own face, so which one of us is really the weirdo here?” said Alex with a shrug. “I’m the one engaged to Julian, Willoughby’s the one bleeding in the hallway, and you’re the one whining in a corner.”
There was no more fog flowing into the room, and a pounding on the door suggested that someone had finally noticed where it was disappearing to. Duckworth had almost managed to resume the form he was in earlier, with his grey suit and simple mask, but his form kept shifting and flickering here and there, leaving wisps of himself behind.
“You know what the best way is to combat mages when you’re not a mage?” said Jacques, stepping up beside Alex.
James moved quickly on the other side, hand flicking out as a spray of powdery crystals tore through Duckworth’s image, dispelling it. Alex took one huge step forward and stamped the end of his cane on Duckworth’s flickering foot, anchoring it with the powerful, antique grounding-spell in the steel, so Duckworth was trapped inside the powder that had settled down on the floor around him.
“Salt,” said James, his smile vicious.
Jacques kicked open the door, Duckworth’s spell-lock fading as he himself began to fade. It took a lot of energy to stay yourself while in an incorporeal form like this, one of many reasons that Alex had never been much for the whole shape-shifting branch of magic, and it looked like Duckworth’s was running out.
“Do I even want to know?” asked Lapointe, stumbling over the tapestry on the floor, her eyes on their very strange tableau. James was drawing a proper salt-circle around Duckworth, trapping him there more effectively until they could find a way to contain him for good.
“The fog was Duckworth, he transmuted himself and now he’s having trouble keeping it together,” said Alex, his grin vicious.
“I can’t arrest him like that,” said Lapointe, annoyed. “Fix it.”
“Can’t,” said Alex. “Get a genie-bottle, that’ll hold him until he can figure himself out enough for a trial.”
Duckworth couldn’t seem to find his voice, but his face held nothing but variations on fury as it flickered in and out so sometimes none was visible and sometimes ten of him, all angry at being thwarted.
“You and your expensive props,” said Lapointe disgustedly. “I’m guessing you don’t have one you can loan us?”
“Ask the hotel concierge,” said Alex, and at her dubious look he said, “No, really, if a cleaning lady breaks some guest’s genie-bottle, they need one on hand to replace it before there’s even more expensive consequences.”
Alex was getting more and more tired just from standing there at an awkward angle, but he didn’t want to risk that it was the combination of steel and salt that was keeping Duckworth anchored to this world, however thinly, rather than just the salt. There was some commotion by the door, but it was just the officers bringing Julian his rather sodden costume, and then a porter who arrived, panting, with the hotel’s spare genie-bottle.
“I hate you for being right,” said Lapointe, as the porter came over with her and helped her with the inscription. As the last syllable rang out, Alex drew his cane back through the salt, and Duckworth was drawn out of the circle and into the bottle with a silent scream of pure rage. “That was the weirdest arrest I have ever made.”
“And now you get to read rights to a bottle,” said Alex. He swayed where he was standing, and then Julian was there with a chair. “Someone dried my coat and found my apple and bird,” he said, sounding very sad.
“Oh, Horace,” said Alex. “Let me see?”
Julian unfolded the coat to reveal the still, quiet form of the little bird, one wing quite damaged and his little beak bent. Alex touched him with a soft little mmm, the closest he could manage to rea
l magic at the moment. It took a second of listening, but then he heard it, and smiled. “He just needs a bit of repair,” said Alex, carefully gathering up the bird and tucking it away into his own breast pocket. “He’ll gather strength from being close to me, and I’ll fix him as soon as I can, love, I promise.”
As if that was just one thing too many, Julian’s stricken face melted into tears and he curled himself right up into Alex’s lap and cried, while James and Jacques performed one last function as Guardians and moved to block the sight from the bustling Agents.
CHAPTER 30
In Which We Say Goodbye and Also Hello
The day after the Masquerade, Alex was exhausted and elated and a bit saddened, because the case was solved, he was engaged, and James and Jacques were going home.
“I don’t suppose I could convince you my ankles are really in danger of dust bunny attacks,” said Alex disconsolately, watching James scour the flat, packing both their bags while Jacques prepared a final farewell brunch.
“We’re not going away forever,” said James. “We’ll visit.”
“You’ll come to the Temple to visit us sometimes,” said Jacques.
“I still have to make amulets for you, we never did decide what would mesh well with your Guardian stuff,” said Alex. He knew he sounded pouty but he didn’t quite care, bundled up on the couch sipping his tea and nursing a headache from overextending his magic again.
“Take these,” said James, pressing two aspirin into Alex’s hand. “You need to stop wallowing, your fiancé‘s bound to come by sometime today.”
Alex smiles a bit goofily and popped the pills. “I suppose he won’t mind that my chaperones have gone.”
“Finish your tea and come get fed,” said Jacques, and then he added under his breath, “you big baby.”
Alex laughed and downed his tea, then made his way out of his blankets and into the kitchen. Jacques had outdone himself, making crepes full of spiced pears and sweet whipped cream, little bread rounds toasted with slices of apple and cheese on top, scones with clotted cream and honey, two kinds of sausages and fried ham, plus a fresh pot of tea. “I’m really, really going to miss you,” said Alex, but his tone was lighter as he sat down and started out by serving up a little saucer of the foods for their butterfly fairy.