by Amy Crook
It also explained why Julian had seemed less affected today -- some enchantments could be cast to survive the caster, but it was at a greater cost in personal energy. Alex wondered if the killer had known that his charms would lose their efficacy, or if he'd been told they'd last past the man's death.
"So you don't think this was an accident," said Smedley, and it wasn't a question.
Alex snorted. "The day after his enchantment inadvertently gets someone at the Agency? Not likely." He turned and sighed. "Are there any pieces of the attack device left here?"
"Not that we could find, but you're allowed in the lab, as long as you don't touch anything," said Smedley.
Alex rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, it could easily have been one of the others, you know, I'm not the only mage on your payroll."
"You're the only one who handles evidence with such disregard for your personal safety, though," pointed out Lapointe.
"Details, details," said Alex. Then he sighed. "I suppose I have to go over this whole place, don't I?" he asked, unhappily rhetorical. He turned back to the room and struck his tuning fork, and prepared to do his job.
He was going to send them a huge bill for this.
Alex had a system with Lapointe, and he was happy to find that Smedley's presence didn't disrupt it overmuch. He would pick up an item and listen to it, then dump it into the waiting evidence bag with some sort of abstract comment, and she'd seal it up and make notes, then get another one ready while he kept on.
In a place like this, it seemed to take forever.
Alex's world narrowed to the dissonant threads of magic, picking them apart and following each one to its source, then categorising it and moving on to the next, and the next. At some point around the sixth or seventh time he'd struck his tuning fork, Lapointe made him stop for some water, but then he kept on, moving through the room in a manner that might seem random to anyone outside his head. His pattern was dictated by the sounds he heard, and once he started following the threads, even such broken and evil threads as the ones in this room, he never seemed to want to stop.
It was only when he tried to deposit something in a bag and there wasn't one waiting that he noticed something was wrong.
His ears seemed to pop and time to stretch and warp as he turned and saw Murielle, lying on her back in a pool of blood, though it was anyone's guess whose blood it was.
"Help!" yelled Alex, annoyed that they'd been left alone though of course that was how he always demanded they do it, and he moved forward cautiously, slipping his amplifying charm out of his vest pocket and into his palm under the glove. Men rushed into the room and froze, looking around with a new terror of their already horrifying surroundings, wondering who might be next.
There was something buzzing with insect-like magic under Lapointe's body, nothing from this room, though, a new voice in the unpleasant chorus. "Be careful, she's been attacked by something," he said, moving around her, slowly, slowly.
Alex saw a flash of movement, and his foot came down instinctively, crushing the little automaton beneath his expensive shoes. "I've got it, help her!"
Dr. Tamlinson pushed past the two officers who'd been holding him back, rolling her over to find a small wound in her shoulder that bled much faster than it was meant to. "I think there's magic, but I can't get a hold on it. Benedict?"
Alex knelt but he could just barely hear it, so he stripped off a glove and gently touched her shoulder, following the spell on the wound until it was all he could hear. "Salt, it'll hurt but it should disrupt the spell," he said distantly, trying to get the feel of the caster while one of the techs sealed the nasty, broken doll into one of their little magic-proof chests.
Those weren't standard on crime scenes, so the first device must have really freaked someone out, to have them still on hand.
"Where am I going to get-" began Geoff in exasperation, laughing when Alex handed him a small packet of the stuff.
"Get it right into the wound, and apologise later. She likes French macarons," he said, still trying to follow the thread of that magic. He knew he'd heard it before, from someone he'd met only once or twice, but he couldn't be absolutely sure it was one of the suitors. It was familiar, but... No, he couldn't place it, and it was already fading under the wash of pure salt, until it sputtered out entirely and the blood flow stopped.
Geoff grinned. "Brilliant," he said, getting a bottle of saline out of his kit to clean and dress the wound properly.
"She'll need blood," said Alex, standing, brows knit. "Three or four units, from the look of the floor."
"We've got it in the infirmary," said Geoff, competent and confident now that he was in his element. "I should put some more magical remedies in my field kits, I guess."
Alex shrugged. "Salt is usually more useful in my line of work than yours," he said, looking down at Murielle's frighteningly pale face. "I'm just glad I had some on me."
"We all are," said Smedley, and then they were putting Lapointe on a gurney and wheeling her away. "Now, I saw what she was doing, do you think you can handle me as a substitute? This place needs to be cleared tonight, before anyone else gets hurt."
"Yes, of course," said Alex, straightening. "I'll be less methodical and look for the fully functional pieces first."
Smedley laughed. "If that was methodical, I'd hate to see it when you just wing it," he said. "Let's get some food into you first, you've been at it nearly three hours."
Alex blinked again, then shook his head. "No, you're right, this is more important," he said, trying to get past Smedley to the box of gloves.
"We'll keep everyone out until you're done, but even I know that you're using up energy doing this and you can't stand to get any thinner." He paused and then added, smirking, "You might lose some perkiness in those creamy mounds of yours."
Alex laughed and consented, though he did do a quick sweep of the outer room. He made them box up anything that looked remotely insectoid, after Smedley confirmed the first had been a macabre sort of beetle, and the second a seemingly innocent honeybee sculpture.
Then he let Smedley treat him to a wonderfully mediocre curry down the block, and no less than three mango lassis and a half-dozen orders of gulab jamun. The sugar would do him good, and he even drank the sickeningly sweet syrup the treats were served in, washing it down with a cup of perfectly-made chai. "Get me two more chais to go, and I won't tell them you got mild like a big girl," said Alex, getting up. "I'll just be a moment."
Smedley chuckled, but when Alex returned from the loo there were three steaming cups of chai, and a fat styrofoam tub with another half-dozen orders of gulab jamun inside. "In case we're still working after they're closed," he said, handing Alex one of the drinks and the sweets to carry.
"I almost don't hate you right now," said Alex, impressed.
Smedley laughed. "You might even accept my assignments someday," he said, steering Alex out into the street and back to the scene of the crime.
~ ~ ~
It was nearly dawn by the time Alex and Smedley stumbled into the infirmary, giddy with exhaustion. "Have you kept our dear Murielle alive?" asked Alex, throwing an arm over Geoff's shoulders in a manner he suspected he might regret, once he wasn't punch-drunk on fatigue and too much sugar. It turned out the Indian place was open all night, which is about all that had kept him going through the truly dismal contents of the shop.
But it was done, now, and they could finally visit Lapointe.
"She'll be fine, she got her four units and woke up sometime during the third to yell at me for potentially compromising evidence," said Geoff with a chuckle.
"You did preserve her clothes?" said Smedley.
Alex laughed this time. "The spell's on the creature, the salt will have disrupted it on her and her clothing both, no evidence to spoil unless it left a stinger behind."
"But I put her shirt and jacket in evidence bags anyway," said Geoff dryly. "There wasn't a stinger, Armistead confirmed that it stayed intact for stinging someone e
lse. You're lucky it didn't go right through your foot, Alex."
Alex grinned. "Not lucky," he said, "well-shod." The spells that kept the soles of his shoes intact through wear and tear and crime scenes would have also deflected the stinger, unless it had been specifically designed to go through them.
They both looked down, then up, wearing identical expressions of confusion.
"They're spelled. Custom-made, paid for with the sort of private commissions that the department can't afford," said Alex with a grin. "Ridiculously posh."
Their laughs held different timbres, Geoff's full of warm understanding and Smedley's wry. "Well, good thing for all of us you don't go around in department issue, then," said Smedley.
"Can we see her?" asked Alex, trying to make himself stand up straight and not quite managing.
"Only if you promise not to try to drive home," said Geoff. "Either of you."
"On my honour," said Smedley, holding up a hand that wavered a bit. "Gonna put us in separate cabs, no creamy mounds for me!"
They all laughed at that, and Geoff let them in to see Lapointe anyway, for which Alex was grateful.
"Have you been in my whisky?" asked Murielle, laying in bed in a white hospital gown. It was the sort that wrapped across the front rather than tied up the back, and Alex thought better of Geoff for letting her wear it despite the difficulty it would add to cleaning the wound.
"Nope," said Alex, "Just too much magic."
"Too much chai," said Smedley.
"Too much sugar," added Alex, swallowing back a wave of reaction-nausea. "Urgh, way too much."
"Sit," said Geoff, steering Alex into a chair, and then producing one for Smedley, too. "I'll get something for both of you."
Lapointe chuckled weakly. "You look worse than I do, Benedict," she said, "Did they make you clear the whole place in one night?"
"I volunteered," said Alex, scooting the chair until he was by her bedside properly. "It was awful, wondering how long you'd been bleeding and I hadn't even noticed."
"You always did tune the rest of us out when you had magic to chase," she said, but there was no real rancour in her tone, just dry amusement.
Smedley grinned. "I helped, you know," he said.
She smacked her forehead. "I'll never figure out what's in the bags now!"
Both men laughed. "I showed him your system," said Alex. "He fed me curry."
"Two curries, three lassis," corrected Smedley, "and another two on our second break."
"Not to mention enough chai to drown a caravan," said Alex.
She looked from one to the other and put her face in her hands. "Oh, lords a-leaping. Male bonding. I'm doomed."
"Don't worry, they'll be back to normal tomorrow," said Geoff, handing each of them a steaming cup of restorative. "You remember what it's like getting attuned to him."
"Was I ever that bad?" she asked, glancing between them.
"Yes," said Alex with a chuckle. "Remember when you got written up for it?"
"For telling that minster he had a slappable arse for a vicar," she said, face going back in her hands. "I thought I'd never get off desk duty."
Geoff laughed. "You, Alexander, are trouble. Drink your restorative."
Alex drank it and made a face. "Gah, what is this, double strength?"
"Triple, your hands are shaking," said Geoff, leaving them again.
Alex shuddered, but drank it all anyway. "Oh, thank the gods," said Alex, when Geoff returned rolling a little cart with tea for four.
"Don't get too excited, it's herbal," Geoff said, pouring cups for everyone. Alex and Smedley finished off their medicinal drinks in record time; even herbal tea had to be better than the restorative. "None of you need any more caffeine, and I'm off to bed after this," said Geoffrey, handing out the cups. He gave Alex a considering look and added with a dramatic sigh, "Sadly alone."
"Just as alone as the rest of us," said Alex, mock-swooning to get them all laughing again.
Lapointe smirked at them the whole time they drank their tea, which Alex took to mean she was on the mend.
CHAPTER 13
In Which We Are, Rather Suddenly, on a Date
Alex's flat had been blissfully empty when he got home, and he barely managed to get changed out of his filthy clothes before he fell into bed and let sleep claim him.
He awoke to the sound of the door buzzer, which proved to be Julian's courier with an official letter scheduling their second date. The courier looked like he might have tried to wait on a reply, but Alex managed to drop enough hints about being out late at a crime scene that he didn't bother. Of course, the blood smeared all over the coat hanging by the door might also have had something to do with it.
A quick check of his mobile showed him it was mid-afternoon and he had four different phone messages and a ridiculous number of missed calls, mostly from various people within the department. He sighed, resigning himself to wakefulness, but set letter and phone aside and went to make tea and scrounge up some breakfast before he dealt with either.
Two cups of tea, an energy bar and a shower later, Alex started with his phone. There was a message from Geoff, assuring him that Lapointe was fine but that he wanted a second opinion from Alex on her shoulder, which apparently was still bleeding sluggishly. Another one told him to disregard the first, as he'd found a bit of stray shrapnel hiding in the wound and everything was fine now. A third was from Lapointe, telling him to stop worrying and get plenty of rest, which made Alex laugh.
The last one was from Armistead of all people, ordering Alex to come in and assist with the mountain of evidence he had so unkindly added to the pile from Mandeville's murder that they were still going through.
Alex deleted them all with vicious glee and called Lapointe back to tease her about wanting to stay wounded so she could flirt with Geoff longer.
"I'm not the one whose creamy mounds he's been praising," she said, sounding amused but still a bit drugged.
"That's because he hasn't seen yours yet, I'm sure," said Alex. "Not that I have any idea if they're creamy," he added with a little shudder.
She laughed. "You'll never find out, either."
"And don't think I'm not grateful for that," said Alex, sipping his third cup of tea and idly toying with Julian's letter.
"Geoff says it'll be a few days before he lets me go home," she said sulkily. "I don't think even a doctor as cute as him would be worth extra nights in this awful bed."
"Puncture wounds are prone to infection, and hard to treat yourself when they're on your back," countered Alex. "If you get infected, you'll end up at a real hospital."
"I'm bored," she protested, starting to sound sleepy.
"I'll bring you a book," said Alex. "You'd be more bored on an antibiotic drip."
She laughed. "Yeah, all right, but you'd better visit me."
"Promise," said Alex. They said their goodbyes and hung up, and then Alex checked in with Geoff just to be sure he wasn't needed.
Finally, he called Smedley and told him that if Armistead ever called him again, he'd change his number and make sure no one at the department had it but Lapointe.
Smedley was still laughing when he hung up.
"I suppose I can't avoid you any longer," said Alex, turning over the card and breaking the seal, feeling a slight tingle of familiar magic from the St. Albans family crest stamped into the wax. He had no idea why he was apprehensive about this, but a mage who ignored such instincts was usually short-lived.
The letter started with a formal apology for the late notice, and named tonight at 7 o'clock for their second date.
Alex looked at the clock and swore.
"It's a good thing I've already got your gift," he said to the letter, hoping his long night didn't show. He'd barely have time to get dressed and go, let alone finding somewhere that would worth taking a man like Julian that would accept a reservation on such short notice. Not to mention the fact that his coat was still covered in blood from the crime scene, having been d
ragged along the floor when he was helping Murielle.
He sighed and dialled his mobile, already heading to the bedroom to figure out which of the outfits he'd bought was suitable for tonight.
"This is a surprise," said Henry wryly.
"I need a favour," said Alex, stripping while he talked. "My date with Julian St. Albans is tonight, in about three hours."
"Where are you taking him?" asked Henry.
"I don't know," said Alex, "I just found out about it five minutes ago. That's the favour."
Henry laughed. "Of all the people that come to me for access to the best places, I never thought you'd be one of them."
Alex sighed, shifting the phone awkwardly. "Will you do it?"
"Of course I will, give me ten minutes and don't pick your outfit yet," said Henry. "I'll tell you what's appropriate once I've made your plans for you."
Alex sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "Thank you, Henry."
Henry chuckled again. "I should let you twist, but Victor would never forgive me."
"You'll enjoy having me owe you," said Alex.
"That I will," said Henry, and hung up.
Alex sighed and flopped back on the bed, half-undressed and in despair of ever figuring out his life.
He felt it was typical of the day when the doorbell sounded again. "Just a minute!" he yelled, slipping his shirt back on and buttoning it hastily, not bothering to tuck it in. He left his belt on the bed and made sure his flies were zipped, then opened the door to find the St. Albans courier had returned.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I really must have your reply," said the poor man, trying so hard not to stare at Alex's disheveled state.
"Oh, yes, of course, do I need to write it out?" said Alex, looking down long enough to fix the crooked buttons on his shirt.
"If you are accepting Master Julian's invitation, I can take a verbal message," he said, expression relieved when Alex glanced back up, properly covered finally.
Alex chuckled. "I am very pleased and honoured to accept Julian's invitation, and will be by in my car to pick him up at seven."
