by Amy Crook
"I'd say he started it," said Alex, making some notations on the bag in hand before moving on to the new one, "but I honestly can't remember anymore."
The rest of the night was more of the same, Alex and Smedley drinking coffee and fixing evidence forms, punctuated by Armistead bringing in more bad attitude and messed-up baggies. It was pretty much morning by the time they were done, so Alex convinced Smedley to take him down to the infirmary to look in on Lapointe before driving him home.
She was not only awake, Geoff was there with her. "That's a beautiful piece of work, where'd you get it?" asked Geoff, pointing to the quit-smoking charm visible over Lapointe's smock.
"I made it," said Alex, slipping into the room now that he was sure he wasn't going to interrupt an exam.
Geoff grinned. "I can see why they hire you, then, how much was it?"
"We did a trade, I made the charm and she has to actually quit now," said Alex, straightening his cuffs fastidiously.
"How is that a trade?" asked Geoff, cocking his head.
Lapointe grinned. "He hated it when I smoked at crime scenes, said it muddied up the air."
"Smoke is smoke, it obscures things," said Alex with a sniff.
"But I've seen some mages who deliberately smoke when they're working," said Geoff. "It never really affected me one way or the other, that I've noticed."
"Sometimes the smoke lets sight mages see better when the magic interacts with the smoke, I've been told," said Alex. "Others who sense magic as currents around them can track the currents within the smoke, though that's about as rare as your talent for touch."
"But smoke interacts with the magic?" asked Smedley, equally curious now.
Alex nodded. "It doesn't so much affect as is affected by magic around it. Air is, too, though it's much harder to notice. Water can wash magic away, unless it's specifically water magic to begin with."
"Metal seems to be a popular choice," said Smedley.
"There's more in there than metals, but yes, it's easier to freeze magic into a shape with something earthy like metal or stone." Alex chuckled. "And most mages don't have the capacity to melt stone in their labs."
"What about carving stone?" asked Lapointe.
Alex grinned, surprised to find himself enjoying the discussion despite the ridiculous hour. It wasn't often that he got to talk about magical theory to people who were actually interested. "Hard to mix in anything with a solid block of stone, though for certain charms you can do okay with just one material. There's inlay work, too, though I've never been very good at it."
"I bet it's fascinating, watching you work," said Geoff.
Alex flushed and shrugged. "I expect not, it's mostly a lot of tuning forks and humming, and putting stuff into a pot and stirring it up. Well, crucible in the case of charms," he said, "but a pot for most potions."
"Well, if we don't want him to fall on his nose like magic now, I'd best take him home," said Smedley, levering himself up out of the visitor's chair he'd been occupying. "And me, too."
"When will you get sprung?" asked Alex, standing and stretching himself.
"A few more days, I want to keep her on IV fluids a while longer. You can cheer her up later with a proper meal, once you've slept," said Geoff, making shooing motions. "At least eight hours, both of you," he paused and chuckled, "in separate beds."
Smedley made a properly disgusted face, as he'd been meant to, and Lapointe laughed. "Go on, you two, I'll be fine. He said he might let me do some paperwork later."
"Be still my heart," said Alex with a laugh.
They said their goodbyes and left, Alex's mind still buzzing with more magical theory, and how it related to their current case.
It turned out work was the one thing that could make him forget the softness of Julian St. Albans' lips, at least momentarily.
~ ~ ~
When Alex got home, he decided to take the initiative and use up the rest of his caffeine high writing to Julian. He penned a short, awkward note that only mentioned the kissing once, and felt like an idiot to be so affected by such thing at his age. Then he got one of his few truly complex magical possessions out of its cage, a magical sparrow that would hold the note inside itself and fly to the recipient, then wait for a response.
It had been a project assigned to him by one of his magical instructors, and it had taken him months to complete the delicate sculpture, each thin bronze feather made by hand and etched with runes that would anchor the complex series of spells he'd constructed. It was, in a way, very similar to the constructs that had killed the artificer and injured Lapointe, but for a benign purpose.
"You're finally going to get some use, Horace," said Alex, stroking the bird's metal breast. "I bet you get bored, in that cage all day."
It stroked its head against his hand, and he could hear the magic inside it conveying a sort of affection to its creator. He opened the door in its breast and slipped the folded note inside, then closed it up and gave its head another stroke. "Can you still read addresses?"
It made a little metallic chirping sound, and gave him a reproachful look.
He chuckled. "Sorry for doubting you," he said, taking it to the window. "I'll see you soon, all right?"
It chirped again, then launched itself into the sky with all the grace of a real bird, for all that it was animated and buoyed by magic.
Alex sighed, shut the window, and got ready for as much sleep as he could manage before someone demanded his day begin.
~ ~ ~
Victor woke Alex at an ungodly hour, to tell him the driver would be there in half an hour to take him on the errands he'd totally forgotten he still needed to do. Alex groaned and levered himself out of bed, promising his body a nap later while he took a quick shower and dressed in the easiest of his new clothes, the black suit from the Courtship banquet with a crisp white shirt rather than the black one he'd worn that night. He was just adjusting his cravat when the driver rang up, and he barely remembered to grab both coats -- one for cleaning, one for tailoring -- on his way out and down the stairs.
"Your coffee, sir," said Jones, handing him a steaming cup and taking both coats, making a face at the state of the bloodied one.
Alex blinked, then took a sip. "Wow, you really are good," he said. "Cleaners first, I think, I usually use Bradford's over on Second, they're used to me."
"Very good, sir," said Jones, and for a moment Alex wondered if he was being corrected until he realised it was just bland agreement.
Alex chuckled and slipped into the warm limo and drank his hot coffee and tried to feel properly human. He found that the little luxuries really did help, when you'd had as little rest as he had.
Then he wondered if his convictions were failing him as he got older, and found he really hadn't had enough caffeine to care.
A few minutes later the car stopped and the door opened. "Did you wish to go into the cleaners yourself, sir?" asked Jones, obviously finding the very idea gauche.
"Of course," said Alex, relishing the familiar disapproval and the rebelliousness that still rose up in him. "I'll only be a moment."
He got out while Jones retrieved the coat for him, then Alex took it inside and got a warm greeting from Mrs. Bradford. "There's more blood than usual this time, can you save it?" he asked, laying the coat on the counter and pulling yet more things out of the pockets, the result of a long habit of trying to have everything on hand he might possibly want.
"You've gone and let it dry, haven't you?" she said, tutting as she examined the smudged and stained coat. "Well, we'll see what we can do, black hides any number of sins, doesn't it, dearie?"
Alex laughed. "I thought it just made me look dashing," he said, posing in his new finery.
"Bit posh for a detective, I should think," she said, but he could tell she appreciated the fine fabrics and excellent tailoring.
"I'm Courting a young man, I've got to go posh," he said with a sigh.
She giggled. "Oh, you aristos and your traditions," she sa
id, flapping her hands at him. "You go on, I'll have it done tomorrow or not, as the case may be."
"You're a doll," he said, kissing her cheek and pocketing his possessions as best he could; it was rather a lot for the slim lines of the suit. She bustled into the back with his coat and he made it back to the limo without dropping anything, and they were off to what he was sure Victor considered a proper tailor to have his good coat made wearable.
Alex was tut-tutted over at the tailor's, but they marked up his coat and promised to have it ready within the week, so he considered that a win and had Jones take him somewhere he could eat. He almost vetoed it when they pulled up to a very nice hotel with a four-star restaurant, but he figured they'd have something with eggs in it and let himself be ushered inside by the doorman.
He even tipped.
"I have not had enough sleep for this," said Alex, somehow unsurprised to find Victor at a table with tea already waiting.
"Nonsense, it's a perfectly reasonable hour," said Victor.
Alex rolled his eyes. "I was working until dawn, Victor," he said impatiently, though he sat and poured himself tea anyway, adding extra milk and sugar just to annoy his brother.
"Ah, that consulting thing you do," said Victor, making a face. "Well, at least it's brought you back to us now."
"For now," corrected Alex, ordering a hot breakfast from the equally hot waiter.
Victor ordered his own breakfast of dry wheat toast and fruit, and fresh juice for them both. "Nonsense," he said, after the waiter had taken his leave. "Once you've won the St. Albans boy, you'll be a part of society again."
"You do realise my participation in this Courtship is about the case, don't you?" said Alex, taking a sip of his tea. It was good, and he wondered if it was Victor's preferred brand or not, but wasn't foolish enough to ask.
Victor chuckled. "You can tell yourself that all you like, but I think we both know you're growing fond of him, or you wouldn't have spent half the ride snogging."
"Oh, Jones, you gossip," said Alex with a laugh. "He's very snoggable."
Victor looked annoyingly smug at that, but Alex was just too tired to bother arguing with him. "I suppose you have some suggestion for where I should shop to go with the rest of your ridiculous advice?" asked Alex.
"No, no, though you might consider taking him somewhere," Victor made a face, "more on your level, on your next date."
"Introduce him to my boring, pedestrian tastes, you mean?" said Alex with a chuckle. "See if he might enjoy slumming with me," he added, though Victor's suggestion did give him the germ of an idea.
Victor was saved from answering by the arrival of their food, and Alex dug in hungrily, ignoring Victor entirely for a few minutes, until his hunger was at least somewhat satisfied.
Victor nibbled on his toast and fruit and looked amused at Alex's hunger. "You always did have that ridiculous metabolism," he said, and Alex thought he heard a note of envy under the carefully cultivated mockery.
"It's the magic," said Alex, deciding to treat Victor like a normal acquaintance for once. It was that, or start treating him like Armistead, Alex figured. "Burns calories at an amazing rate, not to mention the irregular hours."
"Hm," was all Victor said, and Alex got the impression he always had, that his family was vaguely ashamed of his status as a mage.
~ ~ ~
That feeling propelled Alex not to the fancy shops outside but instead back to the car.
"I've changed my mind, I'd like to go to the Temple of Purification," he told Jones.
"Very good, sir," said Jones, sounding surprised. "Is there some reason?"
Alex chuckled. "I'm still feeling a bit tainted from the spell that knocked me out last week," he said wryly, though in truth he just wanted a bit of peace before he had to dive back into the confusing whirlwind of his Courtship. Two dates in two days was highly unusual this early, and Alex expected it would be a few weeks before he got his third date, the final one of the first round. For all he knew the case would be solved by then.
He couldn't imagine how he'd feel trying to drop out of the Courtship after last night.
When the car dropped him off out front, Alex got out and shivered a bit in the chill air. "I can just take a cab back, if you've got other duties."
Jones blinked, then nodded. "Yes, sir, do call if you need to be picked up," he said, handing Alex a little card with the name "Paul Jones" and a phone number on it.
"Ooh, a first name," said Alex with a grin.
Jones just rolled his eyes and closed the car door.
Alex headed into the warm sanctuary of the Temple.
He was greeted by a friendly acolyte of indeterminate gender in loose, unbleached cotton robes. "To what do we owe the honour of this visit, good mage?" asked the youth.
Alex chuckled. "I'm here to do a full purification, I was cursed last week and I'd like to make sure the magic is fully purged from my person."
"You will be able to find some inner peace as well, I hope," said the smiling priest who emerged into the foyer through a side door. "I'll take care of him, Gregory."
"Thanks, Master Stephen," said Gregory, moving back to his station by the door.
Alex smiled right back. "Stephen, it's good to see you. I'm sorry it's been so long..."
Stephen chuckled. "You say that every time, my boy," he said, leading Alex to another door. "Phone off, now."
"Yes, yes," said Alex, pulling it out and turning it off without another thought. Small electronics didn't fare well in the charged air of the Temple.
He never even noticed the message light that winked out as the phone powered down.
"A full purification, Alex?" asked Stephen, leading him into a small locker room. Even Temples had to worry about sticky fingers, and each one had its own little magically-null key on a wrist-chain.
"I could use some clarity," said Alex quietly.
Stephen's teasing smile softened. "Then I'll have a chamber prepared for you, just undress and go through the blue archway. And stop by my office for tea when you're done?"
"Same office as always?" asked Alex, already removing his various personal items and stashing them in the little silk bag hanging inside the locker.
"You know the way," said Stephen, waving vaguely on his way out.
Alex sighed, then finished undressing, socks in his shoes and suit hung in the locker as neatly as possible, until he was stark naked and already feeling a draft. He closed up the locker, put the key around his wrist, and made his way into the first chamber.
The blue tiling on the archway was unfortunately not to signify a male-only area, but instead an indicator that the cold bath was first. The pool was bigger and more beautifully decorated than the one down in the infirmary at the Agency, but it was just as hatefully cold and salty. Alex sounded a chime before getting in, and it took deep breaths and a bit of coaxing to force himself under this time, breath held while he floated weightlessly in the mineral-heavy bath.
He went under half a dozen times total before the second chime sounded, indicating he'd spent long enough and could move into the next chamber, a warm shower for rinsing away the residue. He cleaned out his ears and sinuses as before, but here there was no soap for his shower, just plenty of warm, pure water.
Another chime sounded just about when Alex was deciding he could stay there all day, and he reluctantly shut off the water and padded, wet and still naked, into the third room.
This one had a proper door at either end, because it was a wood-panelled sauna complete with a brazier of hot rocks. Alex poured a scoop of herb-laden water onto the rocks and lay back on one of the wooden benches, breathing in the sharp scent and letting the heat soak into his bones. He'd always rather liked the way they paced things at the Temple, sounding chimes to let him know when to move on without him having to talk to anyone during this part of the process.
He went through three scoops of water total before the third chime drew him out of the hot room and into yet another shower. This t
ime they'd provided an herbal soap for him to clean the sweat off, and a towel dry off when he was done.
He left the chamber naked and damp-headed and entered a courtyard of sorts, with grass for a floor and a greenhouse-glass roof in deference to the weather. There were purifying herbs growing along the wall on all sides, between the many archways leading into the Temple, their leaves and flowers lending a clean, bright scent to the room. Alex sprawled out in the centre of the room on his back, limbs splayed, and let his magical senses awaken.
The room was full of the tiny melodies of plant life and very little else, so Alex sunk himself deep into the slow-moving song of the earth below him, grounding himself and his magic. He kept his eyes closed so the wan winter sunlight fell on his face but didn't disturb his thoughts, which drifted with the earth for a long time. Eventually he drew back inward, listening to his own body's magic, thoughts slowly coalescing around the troubles that brought him here.
Namely, one gorgeous, sweet and loveable Julian St Albans.
Alex allowed himself the luxury of really imagining what his life might become, were he to marry Julian and take up the St Albans titles. He would have to learn to manage things, or hire someone impeccably trustworthy to do it for him, or convince Emmeline to stay on and do it for them. He would want to continue his work with the Agency -- they paid his fees because there was, literally, no one else who did quite what he did, and his expertise had only been sharpened over the years of working on magical crimes. Except he'd also be a master-husband with a consort who needed to be kept happy, who was interested in the running of the estate itself, who kissed like a dream and smiled like Alex was amazing and...
Alex was doomed.
That thought pulled Alex's attention outward to a strange scratching of magic not inside the little sanctuary but pulling, plucking outside the Temple's very impressive wards, and Alex was very grateful indeed for the gong that sounded, indicating it was time for him to get a robe and continue on his journey.
He stood up and spent a moment getting used to using his normal senses, including balance, before making his way to the archway where a grinning old priest offered him one of their shapeless white cotton robes.
