The Courtship of Julian St. Albans (Consulting Magic Book 1)

by Amy Crook

  "And that brings me here, there's a nasty surprise hiding somewhere about and I were surprised to be getting in at all, but careless tsk tsk, your wards bent to me and my tricks." The sprite looked very smug about that, and Alex felt that this was an obvious warning to make the effort to upgrade all his wards, and soon.

  "Careless me," said Alex. He phrased his second request just as carefully. "Now, tell me everything you can remember about the mage, including the location where he caught you, his exact instructions to you, and any business you overheard of his."

  "Oi, that ain't sporting, putting in all them ands," said the sprite, looking sulky again, but he launched into another litany, punctuated as it was by sighs, dark looks, and the occasional sulk.

  Alex kept paper and pen by his bedside; he had a tendency to either get ideas as he was falling asleep, or be woken up by a call from Lapointe with an address he needed to be at. He took careful notes, which seemed to surprise the sprite, and Alex was pleased that the instructions were only to be to deliver the nasty surprises and activate them, not to return and report anything. Apparently this mage was arrogant enough to believe that his creations would take care of everything, without the need for further information about his enemies.

  "You still have one true answer to give me," said Alex, when the sprite's recitation had wound down, "but I need to make a phone call, so I will let you have either a cup of tea or a dram of whisky with no obligation."

  "And if a body wants a bit of both?" it asked, clearly curious.

  "Then I might have another bargain for you, now that your obligation to your previous captor is concluded, and once I've had my third answer," said Alex with a smirk.

  The sprite laughed, clearly pleased by Alex's manner. "All right, then, I'll be taking the tea. Whisky's far better for a bargain," he said.

  "This way, then," said Alex, sparing him the indignity of being carried about like a doll. They made their way into the kitchen, and Alex said casually, "If that nasty surprise murders me, I can't remove your new little anklet for you."

  "I told ye I don't activate the nasties until I'm nearly gone myself," said the sprite just as casually.

  "I've got Harrods, either British Breakfast or Earl Grey," said Alex, putting enough water in the kettle to make a whole pot. "I've no real preference for one over the other." He didn't mention Victor's nice tea, figuring he'd best save that gift for sucking up to the giver.

  "I ain't had a good Earl Grey in ages," said the sprite, looking very interested indeed.

  Alex grinned and got down the box, getting out the pot and rummaging in his fridge for milk, setting that out with honey and sugar both. The little folk were known for their love of honey and milk, and Alex was keen to be seen as generous. He might have resented being woken up in the middle of the night, but now all he cared about was the benefit he could get from it.

  Once the tea was steeping, he pulled out his phone and called, not Lapointe, but Smedley. "I know I'm supposed to be resting, but I need one of those special evidence boxes delivered to my house. I know how the devices were placed, and there's one here."

  Smedley didn't even bother to scold him, just gave him an ETA and hung up. Alex cursed himself for not getting a number for his Guardians before sending them away, but then, they'd all thought his wards were up to the task.

  "Clever man, you are, for all your wards are shite," said the sprite, echoing Alex's thoughts.

  Alex laughed and set out three different-sized cups, letting the sprite choose his first. They both added milk to the bottom of their mugs, Alex going for sugar while the sprite spooned in a ridiculous amount of honey, then Alex topped them off with the nice, strong tea. "Mmm, nothing quite like a good strong cuppa," said Alex, putting his tatty tea cosy over the top of his pot. It might not be in the best shape, but it still kept the tea warm, and Smedley -- or whoever he sent over to collect the nasty -- would be grateful to use the third, mid-sized cup.

  The sprite had taken the small one, evidently preferring ease of use over quantity of drink, something Alex would reward with refills.

  Alex let them both just enjoy their tea for a moment, trying to think what the third question might be. He'd already learned all he would about the mysterious wizard and his devices, though frustratingly the man didn't fit the description of any of Alex's suspect list, which might mean everything or nothing.

  Alex sipped his tea then froze as a bit of movement caught his eye. "Are you sure he can't activate them without you?" asked Alex, trying to think if he knew any good defensive charms against such things. He wasn't wearing his charmed shoes now, and he doubted that silk pyjamas would be much of a defence against the sort of device that had killed the shop owner.

  The sprite went so still he almost vanished from sight. "Not totally sure, no."

  "And this one was left where?" asked Alex, feeling the sprite might answer one extra question to help save his own skin.

  "Mantel," said the sprite shortly. "Sort of a scorpion-looking thing, nasty bugger."

  Alex saw something skitter up the door frame. "The mantel is bare," he said, moving very slowly toward the stove.

  Everything seemed to happen at once after that -- the doorbell rang, the sprite vanished, the device leaped from the edge of the door, and Alex grabbed the cast-iron frying pan on the stove and smashed the thing flat against the refrigerator door.

  Iron was proof against more than faeries, after all.

  "Ooh, good shot," said the sprite, who was perched atop the appliance in question.

  Loud knocking issued from the front door. "Benedict, what's going on in there?" said Smedley's familiar, tired voice.

  Alex whistled a little tune and the set-spell on the door caused it to unlock. "You're a bit late," said Alex, as Smedley dashed into the kitchen, gun out and eyes vigilant.

  Smedley laughed. "A frying pan?" he asked, putting his gun away.

  "Cold iron," said Alex. "Best get the box ready anyway, in case there's any life left."

  "I can't wait to tell Lapointe about this," said Smedley, watching for any sign of movement as Alex pulled the pan away from the now-dented fridge. The pieces fell to the floor and lay unmoving, the spell broken just as thoroughly as the mechanics.

  They used a broom and dustpan to get it all into the box, then Alex poured Smedley his own cup of tea, fixing up a second cup for the sprite as well and casually putting it atop the fridge.

  "Do I want to know?" asked Smedley; the sprite had vanished again when he came in, and was evidently intending to stay that way.

  "Probably not," said Alex, amused when the cup disappeared, too. "I'll explain tomorrow, when I give my statement."

  Smedley chuckled and shook his head. "I'm sure there's rules against me being in your flat alone at night, what with you Courting your young man," said Smedley, finishing off his tea, "or else I'd make you do it tonight."

  "I think police work counts as an exception," said Alex, "but I also think we both need more sleep before we try to be coherent."

  "Amen to that," said Smedley, setting down the cup. "Well, I hate to rescue and run, but I've got to go add this to Armistead's pile and get back to my warm bed."

  Alex grinned evilly. "Good," he said.

  Once Smedley was gone and the house properly locked up, Alex went back into the kitchen and put the frying pan in the sink. "I'll never get the dents out of that," he said with a sigh, looking at the fridge.

  "A good brownie could do it," said the sprite, reappearing. "I might know someone, if you're interested."

  Alex chuckled and shook his head. "You're already an answer ahead, though I think keeping you from being scorpion food ought to make us even."

  "I reckon I could see to that, but there's still the matter of the whisky we discussed," said the sprite, hopping down to the table in one impossible-seeming leap. "And this," he added, showing off his anklet.

  "And that," Alex agreed, though privately he'd have removed it, even without the favours owed. "Let me
see what sort of drink I have on hand before we bargain."

  He rifled through the cupboards, finding three bottles at various levels of fullness, though the third one was both dusty and nearly empty. "Well, this is what I have," said Alex, setting them on the table.

  The sprite paced around them, opening each and sniffing it, then closing it up. "That's a pretty big favour there, and more'n I can drink in a night anyway," he said carefully.

  Alex nodded. "Are you wanting to bargain for all of it, or a measure?" he asked. He didn't have a lot of experience with the fae, which made him cautious, but this creature had so far done him no actual harm.

  "Now, that really depends on the sort of favours you're wanting," said the sprite.

  Alex thought about this for a moment. "What if I wanted your name?" he asked.

  That seemed to take the sprite off guard; his name could be used to call him, or even bind him again, but Alex had already shown himself to be both generous and honourable. "And ye promise to only use it for future bargaining, no binding or curses?"

  "I would be willing to promise that, should that be our bargain," said Alex.

  The sprite laughed. "A cautious man, despite the state of yer wards," he said. "All the whisky and the anklet off, for my name."

  "All the whisky currently sitting on this table, and your iron anklet removed, in exchange for your full and true name," said Alex, smirking right back at him.

  Another bout of laughter. "Throw in another cuppa?" it said, producing the cup out of nowhere.

  Alex chuckled. "If you promise not to steal the china, I'll pour you more tea for free," he said, adding milk and honey to the cup as he spoke.

  "No, no, I won't be beholden to your hospitality, the tea before was in exchange for my honesty and we both know it, but this tea is part of our bargain," said the sprite stubbornly.

  Alex poured and stirred, whistling a little charm to get the honey to dissolve all through the liquid, then made up another cup for himself as well. "All the whisky currently sitting on this table, as much tea as you like this evening, and your iron anklet removed, in exchange for your full and true name."

  "Deal," said the sprite, holding out a tiny hand.

  "Deal," said Alex, shaking it. "You drink, I need to get my lockpicks."

  The sprite took up the middle bottle like it wasn't nearly his own size and carefully topped off his teacup. "I bet your man doesn't know about those," he said, sitting down and sipping the concoction. "Ah, now that's bliss."

  "It'll be even more blissful without that anklet," said Alex, slipping into his lab, grateful to find that those wards, at least, had remained intact. Lapointe may or may not have known about his lockpicks, but Alex definitely wanted to keep them from Smedley's attention. He had a feeling that, male bonding or not, Smedley wouldn't put up with nearly so much as Murielle had over the years.

  "This may take a moment," said Alex when he emerged, blinking for a moment at the double vision of the sprite drinking his tea and the table being empty. "I'm a bit rusty."

  "Off is off," said the sprite. "You're the type to keep your bargains."

  "Oathbreaking is very serious indeed for a mage," he said, sitting down and opening up the kit. The sprite stuck out one stubby leg, and Alex found it strange to cup the tiny foot and find it warm and alive, despite the doll-like proportions. "I would not risk myself that way, it's not worth it." He snagged two of the tools and slipped them into the lock. "Hold yourself steady."

  "Oh, aye," said the sprite. "Smarter to just not promise nothing you ain't ready to make good on."

  "Exactly," said Alex, feeling around with the little picks. The lock seemed to be a simple one, with no hum of magic to it, but that didn't mean it couldn't thwart him. He pushed and the picks slipped, and he sighed. "Bugger," he said, trying to get the picks properly set against the tumblers inside.

  "Naah, ain't my type," said the sprite, taking another big sip of tea before going all still and quiet again.

  "Good," said Alex, trying not to think of what sort of strange perversions a human-philic fae might have tried to visit on his sleeping body. "Damn, I really don't want to have to call a locksmith," he said, when the picks slipped again.

  "Oh, hey, bring me some paper, would ya?" said the sprite.

  Alex got up and fetched the little pad and its stubby pencil from beside the phone. "Why?" he asked, handing it off.

  "Key looked a bit like this," said the sprite, drawing the shape crudely on the page. "Had a funny thing down here, like a little kink in it," he said, pointing to the lower edge.

  "Ah, that's probably what I'm not catching right," said Alex. "Smart of you to pay attention." He chose a different pair of lockpicks and fit them in, feeling them slide into place much more surely. "Hold still."

  This time, when he pushed, something inside the lock gave and the little circle clicked open. Alex pulled it away and tossed it into the sink with the frying pan with a shudder. "Nasty thing," he said.

  "I know why I think so, but why do you?" asked the sprite curiously, examining its wounded ankle.

  "It was obviously created for the purpose of tormenting the little folk," said Alex with a shrug. "Why else make a cold iron shackle in that size?" He rummaged in the cupboards until he found a jar of healing cream. "Hm, this is nearing its end, but it should help some," he said, passing the jar to the sprite.

  "I can't read it to be sure it ain't bad for me," he said, opening it up and sniffing curiously.

  Alex picked up the cap and read off the ingredients list. "Nothing I recognise as harmful to you, though the magic's faded a little."

  "I'm willing to try it if you're willing to wash it off should it hurt me," said the sprite, dipping a finger in it and sniffing again. There was a pause while they both waited to see how the magic would react to the sprite's skin, and when nothing happened it took a whole handful of the cream and slathered it around the broken skin. "Seems good," it said.

  "Keep the jar," said Alex. "I've stopped cooking the sort of things I burn myself on."

  The sprite laughed. "Cautious all around, then," it said, capping the jar and making it vanish. Upon inspection, the bottle which had been half full was also empty, probably squirrelled away while Alex got his lockpicks.

  "I'm awful at it," Alex said with a laugh. "You wouldn't want to eat my cooking any more than I did."

  "Now, you've kept your bargain and more, so it's time for me to be honouring my part," said the sprite, standing with a sigh. "I be Connaneach Kellimeannaugh, but me friends be calling me Con, and I reckon you've earned that, too."

  Alex bowed. "It's good to meet you, Con, I'm Alex."

  "Alex it is," said Con with a chuckle. "I shoulda known ye'd be too smart to give much away there. Now, I'll be back for the rest, by the bye, so no drinking yon whisky."

  "It's all yours, where would you like me to store it?" asked Alex.

  Con cocked his head. "You'll leave a way for me to knock, if you've warded me out?"

  "There's always the doorbell," pointed out Alex.

  "Then it don't matter much." Con jumped down to the floor with another of those strangely graceful leaps and meandered toward the door. "I'll be seeing ye."

  "I'm sure you will," said Alex, watching as Con faded out. The door didn't even open, but there was something quieter when he was gone, and Alex let out a sigh. The fae were always a handful, but this one had been well met indeed.

  Alex wrote down Con's full name before he could forget it, tearing off the page first and then sequestering it in his work room along with both remaining bottles of whisky. He tucked the page with the full name and the strange little drawing of the key inside his own personal grimoire, which was as safe as he could make it and still have it to hand.

  He only hoped it would be a long time before he needed to call upon the little sprite.

  Alex used up the rest of his nervous energy cleaning up the kitchen, though he really didn't have anything he could do for the dents. He left a bit of
bread, milk and honey in a bowl outside his door as a sort of tithe to the faerie folk for keeping him alive and well another day, and then finally let himself collapse back in his own bed.

  Tomorrow, he'd have to re-ward the whole damn place, and he'd need all the sleep he could get.

  CHAPTER 18

  In Which We are Very Busy, and Several Realisations are Made

  When Alex next awoke it to the sound of his doorbell. His phone had four different voicemails from various agents demanding he answer for himself about last night, and he still hadn't read the letter from Julian that came in with Horace last night. It seemed everyone wanted a bit of Alex's time today; that and the scratches on his favourite frying pan convinced Alex that it was a perfect day to be brought breakfast.

  "Hold your horses!" yelled Alex, putting on his dressing gown and finding his cane before letting in his two very annoyed Guardians.

  "You didn't tell us you were attacked!" said James irritably.

  "I didn't have your numbers," said Alex, tossing his phone to Jacques after unlocking it. "Add them, and I won't leave you out of the loop again."

  Alex stayed stubbornly in his pyjamas until he was fortified with the coffee and a proper full English breakfast that James had brought for all three of them, a tacit statement that they'd all need the energy today. A long, hot shower and two more voicemails later, Jones arrived for physical therapy. Alex had already amended the day's to-do list. After PT, they would pick up his coat, go by the Agency make his statement and get back to the flat. He'd be half the night warding it again, and he needed to write to Julian before that.

  "This is proving more challenging than I thought," mused Alex, contemplating the notes he'd taken during the sprite's recitation. "Note to self, never accept a job from Smedley again."