by Amy Crook
"All right," agreed Alex. He blushed a little to shed all his clothes, feeling like a skeleton next to the two fit young men, skinner then ever from the hospital and fish-belly pale.
Jacques chuckled. "You have the look of a dark romantic hero, all pale and brooding," he teased.
"I'm not the one who took a vow of celibacy," teased Alex right back, as they all locked up. "After you," he said, gesturing to the same blue archway as last time.
"By all means," teased James, though it was clear he thought they were being a bit too silly for the occasion. He headed off into the room, leaving the two of them to sit around in the altogether and wait for the chime.
Rather than continue their banter, Alex and Jacques settled onto benches by the archway and watched as James immersed himself in the cold, mineral-laden water. Every movement spoke to Alex of a real dedication to the Temple and the purification and solace he was receiving today, and Alex was glad he'd decided to come back and finish what he'd started. He was still reflecting on that gratitude when a chime sounded, and James moved off to the next room, leaving the pool for Alex.
The ritual was soothing for Alex this time, even though he wondered as he lowered himself into the pool how difficult it had been for them to get all of his blood out of the tile. It was very quiet, floating under the surface of the mineral water, and somehow the sting of salt wasn't as bad this time, a mere distraction to the peaceful surcease from outside magic.
The rest of the purification went just as smoothly, Alex letting go of his worries and coming out the other side calm and relaxed. He'd somehow come to terms with his increasing infatuation with Julian, and decided on several other things that brought all the pieces of his current life into as much harmony as possible.
Once he was dressed, he sat down and sent a few texts off to get things in order while they waited for Jacques to finish up. Alex had emerged to find James dressed and chatting with another Guardian, so he didn't feel too guilty for ignoring them a bit longer.
"Where to next?" asked Jacques, looking cheerful as ever as he came out of the green archway and went to unlock his locker, unabashed in his nudity.
"Lunch with Fauna," said Alex, "then the tailor for my coat, the couturier for more clothes, and then off to my favourite plant nursery for some supplies."
"When did you get roped into lunch with your sister?" asked James, amused, waving as the other Guardian left to resume his duties.
"She texted me the reservations while we were busy," said Alex, amused. "It seemed easier not to fight it."
"At least it's not both of them," said Jacques, in a tone that implied he'd been subjected to the pair of them while Alex was unconscious.
"One at a time, they're not so bad," agreed Alex. He stood when Jacques did, all three of them dressed and ready, and they headed out the front door where the car was waiting.
Alex tried not to let it bother him that he was already getting used to it.
~ ~ ~
Lunch wasn't too torturous, and Fauna tagged along to both tailors afterward to offer her opinions and once again try to get Alex to wear pink. In the end, he allowed himself to be bullied into getting a single pink shirt, which he would only wear with black and even then only in dire circumstances, not that he admitted to the latter.
Horace caught up with him when they left the second tailors, and Alex went into the nursery with the mechanical bird riding happily on his shoulder, occasionally toying with his hair or nibbling at his ear in an affectionate manner.
"Alex Benedict, you're moving up in the world," said the proprietor fondly. Mary Margaret Stone was a solid woman comfortably in middle age, her hair greying and figure spreading and her not worried about it one bit. "I saw you in the paper! For a moment I thought you were dead, but it was just the photo."
Alex laughed and hugged her, careful to keep Horace on the other side. He wasn't sure how the bird would take to being manhandled by a stranger. "It's good to see you, too," he said. "I need your help for a little surprise."
"Ooh, the best sort. Would this be for your young man, then?" she asked, bustling over to where there was an electric kettle behind the counter and filling it all the way up in the rusty old sink while Alex followed her around like a devoted cat, though he did try not to get underfoot.
"Of course," admitted Alex readily. He told her his idea while she made a pot of tea for the lot of them, pausing to introduce his quiet Guardians so they could be asked how they liked their cup.
"It's not very traditional, but it's very you," she said, amused. "I'll help, of course, I think I have everything you'll need. Can your boys be counted on to carry things or do I need the cart?"
Alex was glad that James just looked amused at the designation. "We ought to keep our hands free, but we can push the cart for you," offered James. He and Jacques had been less than thrilled by this choice of stops, the big glass nursery not half so well-warded as the Temple.
They spent a good hour wandering around the nursery, chatting and drinking tea and getting all the things Alex would need. She was very impressed when he used Victor's credit card to pay off not just today's purchase but the small tab he'd run when he came in last and had been too busy to line up and pay, and instead had scarpered with his goods and texted her a photo of what he'd taken.
Everything was loaded into the trunk of the car, and they dropped off clothes and plants alike at his flat, and collected the little box of contaminated items to take to the Agency.
"Let's go get coffee first, I'm starting to wear thin," said Alex as they pulled up in front of the imposing building.
"I'd love a coffee," said Jacques quite sincerely. "I don't suppose it's in there?" he asked, pointing to the heavily-warded Agency building.
"Nope," said Alex, pointing the other way. "D'you want anything, Jones?"
"I'll park the car in the Agency garage and join you," said Jones affably; he got on with James and Jacques like a house on fire, and was even starting to get used to Alex's sense of humour. "I can sit and read in the shop as easily as the car, just text me when you're on your way down."
"We'll get a booth, then," said Jacques, and they all piled out and into the coffee shop. Their clientele was more than half Agents anyway, so Alex always got a sense of safety there despite the lack of any warding or protection spells fancier than a no-burn on the grill and no-spill on the coffee pots.
They were seated in the four-person booth he usually claimed with Lapointe, which meant Alex was a bit more crowded than he was used to, sitting protected between the two Guardians. "Breathing is not going to kill me, you know," teased Alex, when he realised they were both trying to leave room for Jones.
"Oh!" laughed Jacques. "I'll scoot, sorry."
They got themselves rearranged, and then Jones came in and had to do a little dance of, "No, after you," with the waitress who was coming to take their orders.
"You've got a whole crowd of big strong men this time," said the waitress, whose name Alex had pointedly never learned. "But I prefer the moody poet sort."
"So many women do," said Jones, with what seemed like genuine regret.
"Coffee all around?" she asked, eyes only for Alex, much to his chagrin.
"Yes, please," said Alex.
"I'll get that while you figure out if you're eating," she teased. "You're skin and bones, you ought to let me fatten you up a bit."
Alex slumped when she left, while the other men at the table chuckled. "It's not my fault!" he lamented.
"What's good here?" asked Jones, and the he paused and added, "Besides the waitress, I mean."
Alex gave him a glare. "Just for that I should recommend the porridge."
They laughed again, and Alex joined in, finding it somehow comforting that at least it wasn't his imagination that she made eyes at him. They talked about food until the coffee came, then ordered, Alex getting a bagel and egg sandwich and a third cinnamon roll for the day. The Guardians got similarly substantial snacks, as they expended a great
deal of energy keeping on the lookout for magical as well as mundane attacks, and Jones got a slice of pie.
They talked about the attacks while they ate, though Alex couldn't give them all the details since it was an active case and Jones, at least, was a civilian. The waitress refilled them several times, then sauntered over and asked if he was ready for the check when the other three had been finished eating for a good ten minutes.
"One more round?" Alex asked, though he was already late enough he had at least one voicemail he was ignoring.
"Of course, for the road?" she asked.
He gave her a grateful smile and tried very hard not to flirt. "That would be perfect, thank you," he said simply.
She seemed to find even that encouraging, and Alex finally gave up on it. Lapointe could perhaps tell him how to not be an arse about it later, or maybe she'd just give him crap. At least he was growing used to the crap.
He sighed and finished his last few bites of bagel and egg sandwich, and even forced down the second half of his cinnamon roll in huge, ungraceful mouthfuls while he waited. He was licking icing from his fingers when the waitress returned with three steaming to-go cups and the pot for Jones. Alex was appalled to see her blush.
"Oh, erm, thank you. The check, please?" asked Alex, using his napkin and a bit of water to get off the rest of the icing from his hands and face. He wondered how a woman could possibly consider it flirting for a man to have sticky white stuff all over himself, but then, he often wondered how women could misinterpret his intentions.
Perhaps once this was all over, he'd make himself some sort of charmed ring that could be worn on his left hand, so they'd think he was merely creepy.
Alex sipped his coffee and sighed; it was made just as he liked it, and he felt like a bastard for wishing she'd never noticed. When she brought the bill he left her the exact tip Lapointe would have, reassured Jones that he'd cover anything else the driver bought, and escaped feeling like the world's worst queer.
"Why do women always fancy the gay ones?" asked Smedley, pushing off the wall of the building outside.
"Oh, god, if you ever figure it out, please tell me how to make it stop," said Alex miserably.
James and Jacques laughed. "Don't worry, we get our fair share, too, and we're famously celibate," said James.
"It actually gets worse once they realise," said Jacques glumly.
They all laughed at that, and a strange sort of lamentation over women took them to the evidence lab. "You've got two hours, and neither of them are to touch anything unless it tries to bite," said Smedley, gesturing to the table where all the evidence Alex had requested was laid out for him to examine. "And they're insisting on proper gloves."
"Sir, yes, sir," said Alex wryly. "Let's check in the few things I brought, first."
James brought over the box, but everything inside had stayed inert and was easily bagged and tagged. Alex did request that the two keys be destroyed at the end of the case, since they were still attuned to him and his flat, but the rest he was happy to give up including the single segment of scorpion tail that had slipped past their radar the night before.
"I really hope these little nasties can't put themselves back together," said Smedley, locking it up into a smaller version of the magic-proof boxes, one similar in function to James' little box, but devoid of artistry.
"You and me both," said Alex quite sincerely. "Two hours?"
"Armistead will be back from his meeting by five," said Smedley, pointing to the clock that read 3:08. "If you don't want another pissing match, you'll be hiding in Lapointe's office by then."
Alex laughed. "You know me too well," he said, giving Smedley a wink and going over to the table, already moving into the mental space where nothing mattered but magic.
"I'm learning," said Smedley gruffly, and if he said anything else, Alex was too distracted to hear.
Alex put on the proper gloves and snuck his watch fob into the palm of one, beneath the latex. He took a deep breath, then pinched the tines of his tuning fork to set it vibrating and got to work. He pulled things out and listened to every nuance of their magic, signing and re-sealing the bags one at a time, methodical and thorough. There was something here, something he'd missed that was niggling at his subconscious, and he was determined to suss it out.
He had to pinch the fork several more times before he got through the pile, but by the end of the pile he nearly had it. "Bring me the box with the scorpion piece?" he asked of no one in particular.
It was put in Alex's hand, and he responded with a distracted, "Thanks." He pulled out the little segment and struck the tuning fork this time, listening, deconstructing, going deep into the residual magic of the thing until, there, yes, he finally got it. He tossed it back into the box, snapped the lid shut and opened his eyes, only to find Armistead standing in front of him, arms crossed and radiating displeasure.
Alex took a moment to re-seal the box and sign that he'd been the one to open it, then he turned and smiled benignly at Armistead. "May I help you?"
"Get out," said Armistead, "and take those ridiculous bodyguards with you."
James and Jacques bristled, but didn't say anything. Alex sighed and stood, stretching. "We were done, anyway, thank you for pulling the evidence for me."
"I did it at the request of the agent in charge," retorted Armistead, not moving an inch, even when Alex deliberately stepped into his personal space on his way toward the door.
Jacques and James fell into step with him, and Alex paused at the threshold. "I'll thank Agent Smedley again, then," said Alex serenely, finding it easy to ignore Armistead's hostility for once. Besides, maturity always annoyed Armistead more than sniping back.
It was the little things, really.
CHAPTER 19
In Which There is Progress, Magic, and Mayhem
They had another quiet evening in, during which Alex spent time with the new plants in his work room, then emerged to fulfil a surprising request from his Guardians. Jacques made his own special blend of spiced drinking chocolate and fresh scones, and Alex played his perfectly unmagical concert flute for them. They decided on early bed, Alex finally seeing the cot set up right across the front door before he vanished into his rooms to meditate a little more on the facts of the case.
Mixed in with the fading, insect-like buzz of the dead artificer's magic, and the dark dissonance that ran the murderous constructs, Alex had detected a third, faint signature. After ruminating on it for the past few hours in the back of his mind, Alex brought it back to the forefront again, that little snippet of cut-off melody. It seemed familiar, not only the signature itself but the way it was incomplete and barely-there, like it was only a part of a larger whole.
That was it -- the third person hadn't made the items, but donated ingredients, the same way Lapointe's amulet sounded mostly like Alex's magic with little half-heard motifs of Lapointe from the hair and smoke she'd contributed to the mix.
Alex sent her a quick text, and finally let himself drop off to sleep.
~ ~ ~
In the morning, he had two annoyed texts from Lapointe telling him it was totally unfair to suggest there were even more suspects and still have no idea who anyone was. Alex ignored this and shuffled out toward the lovely smell of tea and breakfast, this time bacon sandwiches and fruit salad courtesy of the wonderful Jacques.
"Are you sure I can't lure you away from your dangerous life into becoming my kept boy and cook?" said Alex, slumped over the table and trying to use his magic powers to put the caffeine from his teacup into his bloodstream. When that didn't work, he sat up and took a nice, big gulp of liquid and then tried to stay vertical.
"As flattering as that is," said Jacques, sounding amused, "I'm afraid the Temple will always win."
Alex sighed dramatically. "I suppose you have already seen me naked, so I can't sway you that way, either."
They all laughed at that, and then breakfast was ready and they set to. James had contributed again with fresh
bread for the sandwiches and a box of sugary puff pastries that weren't really breakfast food, but were definitely gone by the time breakfast was done.
Alex took himself off to claim the shower -- the Guardians had showered before Alex was even awake -- and then emerged in his casual-work clothes of black trousers and an open-necked shirt, sleeves rolled up and feet bare. "I'll be in my work room until lunch, if you two need to go anywhere," he said, feeling a guilty surge of relief at the idea of being alone in his flat. "The wards in there are very thorough."
"So we've observed," said James from where he'd been playing some sort of solitaire puzzle game at the coffee table. "We might go check in, if you promise not to leave the flat."
"Pinky swear," said Alex. "Knock if you need me, or text, the phone works unless I go into the isolation cupboard."
"You actually made an isolation cupboard?" asked Jacques, looking intrigued.
Alex nodded. "I needed it for some fertility charms. I took orders for three to be made at once, which paid for the extra effort."
"May I see it sometime?" asked Jacques, eagerly polite.
Alex grinned. "Yeah, sure, but after I've gotten some work done today," he said. "If you get curry, I want it extra spicy."
"Will do," said James, standing, puzzle bits left where they were. "When does your cleaning service come?"
Alex blinked and tried to orient himself to the days and weeks since she'd last come. "God, no idea, I'll call them when I'm done. I suspect me being in a coma might have thrown off the schedule."
"Make sure we're here," was all James said, and then they waved awkward good-byes and Alex disappeared into his work room and just took a moment to breathe in the solitude.
Then he pushed off the door and got to work.
~ ~ ~
Alex was just putting the finishing touches on Julian's gift when there was a knock at the door. "Curry's here!" called James.
"Five more minutes!" said Alex, glad the actual magic bits were done. He'd never have even noticed the knock, otherwise.
