by Amy Crook
A bit more fiddling, and he was satisfied with what he'd wrought. He just hoped Julian would be as impressed with it as he was impressed with himself for thinking of it, and he cleaned up before emerging into the living room, where he could smell a whole plethora of wonderful Indian food.
"Ooh, that's just what I was hoping for, did you get lots?" said Alex, stomach already growling.
"Lots, with extra sweets, you've got PT this afternoon," said Jacques, who was serving up platefuls in the kitchen.
"Ugh," said Alex. "Torture and more torture, and horrid restorative potions."
"You'll live," teased James, who was making sure they all had a to-go cup of hot chai.
"Ooh, you did go all out," said Alex, sitting and snagging a piece of naan bread. "Do you need me to pay for some of this?"
"No, no, the Temple covers our upkeep," said James. "We visited with our superiors again, and they're convinced you'll need watching over until the Mandeville case is solved."
"If that means more of Jacques' cooking, I may never solve it," teased Alex, digging into the food.
Lunch passed congenially, with them chatting about the living arrangements to make sure the Guardians were comfortable but not interfering with Alex's life. Alex was so full of curry and sweets and tea that he was almost not resentful when he was carted off to PT. He'd even grown so used to the cane by now that it was almost an extension of him, the thrum of its magic soothing as he sat toying with it in the car.
"Had a nice morning, sir?" asked Jones as they settled in for the ride.
"I've finally gotten my next gift ready for young Julian. Will you be available to pick him up next Friday?" asked Alex, curious.
"Of course, sir, Mr. Benedict has given your needs precedence for the duration of the courtship. He tells me young Sharpish is learning quickly."
Alex chuckled. "I suppose that's better than nothing," he said, well used to the hidden insults in Victor's compliments, even the ones not directed at him.
Jones chuckled with him, and they made their way to the hospital in companionable silence, the Guardians guarding, driver driving and Alex once again turning the pieces of the Mandeville case over in his mind, trying to make them fit into a pattern that made sense.
~ ~ ~
"I hate this part of a case," said Alex later, at home with his Guardians. They'd decided on tea and fresh-baked scones for tonight's late-night snack, and Alex had claimed the couch for dramatic lounging while the Guardians each took a chair, the three of them playing a rather halfhearted game of gin.
"What part?" asked James obligingly.
"Where I've looked at all the evidence there is and given all my insights to the Agency and I have to wait for one of them to be brilliant or for more things to look at," said Alex. He took the King that Jacques laid down and discarded a Jack.
"The waiting is always the worst," agreed James, picking up the Jack and laying down gin.
Alex laughed. "You've wanted that Jack since the start of the game, I guess, did you know I had it?"
"I had a suspicion," said James with a chuckle. "Your poker face is terrible."
"It's the ennui," said Alex dramatically.
His swoon was interrupted by his phone ringing. He fished it out of his pocket, saw Lapointe's name on the screen and answered. "This is Alex," he said, feeling a small surge of foreboding.
"It's Lapointe," she said, then there was a pause. "There's been another incident."
"Not Julian?" said Alex, sitting up and feeling a real clutch of fear.
"No, though we suspect someone else has been hit. Another of the things activated in the evidence lab and this time... Well, Geoff was passing by in the hallway. He's en route to your Dr. Chesterfield now."
"How is he?" asked Alex, pleased to see the Guardians already cleaning up and getting ready to go out. "Should we visit?"
"We need you here, he'll be in Healing half the night. There was a lot of blood loss, though we managed to smash it before it got anything vital." She chuckled. "Smedley remembered what you said about cold iron and got it with a fire extinguisher."
"And someone remembered to salt the wounds, to break the spell," said Alex, feeling relieved that at least they listened to him when it was important, this time.
"That was Geoff, who actually had some on him. He's been carrying it around in case another one got out," said Lapointe with a dark, wry chuckle.
Alex chuckled back. "Well, I'm sure he's glad he did," he said. "I have to call Jones back to get us, my Guardians won't let me take a cab, but we'll be there as soon as we can."
"Be careful, we still don't know what brought this one to life, and there's still a couple here in storage that are intact enough to do some damage."
"Yes, Mom," said Alex, and hung up. "We're needed at the Agency. Dr. Tamlinson, Geoff, he got in the way of another of those insect-things."
"Never wish for more excitement," said Jacques solemnly.
Alex sighed. "When you're right, you're right," he said, dialling poor Jones and already planning to stop off for coffee somewhere.
It was going to be a long night.
~ ~ ~
The Agency building was buzzing like an angry wasps' nest when they arrived, now that one of their own had actually been injured. Jacques was elected to run in and get coffees, while Alex and James were taken down into the relative safety of the parking garage before Alex was let out.
Smedley was actually in the lobby waiting for them when they emerged, and he'd already vouched for Jacques and claimed a coffee from the tray the diner had let him borrow. "I'm starting to get what Lapointe sees in you," said Smedley, sipping his coffee with a smirk.
"It's certainly not my creamy mounds," said Alex dryly, taking the coffee Jacques handed him with a quiet thanks.
Smedley chuckled and led them to the elevator, while James and Jacques exchanged slightly confused looks. Smedley took that as his cue to tell the whole story from curse to creamy mounds, and as they made their way to Smedley's office for briefing, Jacques said, "His bottom is quite pale and pert, I must admit."
Alex groaned as Smedley's grin widened. "Pale and pert, hm?"
James shot Jacques an amused look. "Now, now," he said, in a tone of mock reprimand, "you know we're not to reveal our clients' secrets."
"It wasn't a secret," said Jacques, grinningly unrepentant. "Now they just have more adjectives."
"You suck," said Alex, but he was grinning as he did, holding the door for Jacques and his tray.
"No, I'm celibate," said Jacques.
They all shared a good, heartening laugh, and then they got down to business. Lapointe was at the hospital waiting for news on Geoff, and once word got out there was good coffee available in Smedley's office, it was easy enough to get anyone who'd been working at the time in to talk to them. Alex was putting off going to the lab as long as possible, and not just because he'd been assured Armistead was the one handling everything.
Smedley's phone rang. He showed them all Lapointe's caller ID, and there were a few tense moments of silence while they all waited to hear the news.
Smedley hung up, and then grinned hugely. "Geoff's fine, lots of stitches but no permanent damage, and his doctor thinks he can keep it from scarring too much as long as our doctor follows his healing regimen."
Everyone looked pointedly at Alex.
"Hey, I've been doing my PT!" he protested, waving his fancy cane at the lot of them.
"You've also been tiring yourself out doing magic on top of your healing," said James helpfully.
Everyone laughed at that, and Alex sighed and stood up, leaning heavily on his cane as he did so. "If there's another coffee left, I'm claiming it, as I'm about to go do a bit more of that. Smedley, will you come so I don't put this through Armistead's foot by accident?" he asked aggrievedly, waggling the cane with its shiny steel tip.
"Oh, yes," said Smedley with a chuckle. "And your two shadows, of course."
"Of course," said Jacques, handi
ng them each a cup of coffee. "That's the last of it, so don't spill," he teased.
"None for you?" asked Alex.
"We want our hands free, just in case," said James, looking quite serious, a reminder to Alex that there were two more intact devices in the lab and they'd not yet discovered how they were being activated.
"Impressive dedication," was all Alex said, but he knew they were all thinking dark thoughts as they headed down to the brightly-lit evidence labs.
Armistead was busy overseeing the more junior techs as they took samples from his lab and passed them carefully over to one of the other labs for analysis. The whole section of corridor was taped off, drying blood liberally splashed about with an alarmingly big puddle smeared about in the middle of it all.
"What are you doing here?" said Armistead, not even looking up from where he was picking up something off the floor with plastic tweezers.
"Geoff's going to be fine, thanks for asking," said Smedley, his voice full of false charm. "You did say you needed to be sure none of the bits of the thing went skittering down the hall."
Armistead huffed, deposited the evidence into a little baggie and sealed it up. "Don't come inside the tape yet, we're not done."
"I wouldn't dream of it," said Alex.
The two Guardians took up positions at either end of the bit of hallway Alex was in, and nodded that it was safe enough for him to do his thing. Alex donned his gloves -- cotton, this time, since they knew what they were looking for wasn't touch-contagious unless he cut himself -- and got out his tools. The watch fob went into the back of the glove on his right so as not to interfere with his cane, and he struck the tuning fork against the wall to produce a loud, clear note to attune his own magic to.
The fact that it would irritate Armistead was only a bonus, really.
Alex let the note draw his hearing toward the magical melodies all around him, filtering out the conversation and bustle of people, and homing in on the magic. He identified the big, low throb of the building-wards, which were old and regularly maintained and very, very good at keeping things out. He followed the threads of the various building-related enchantments, for clear light and strong supports, efficient elevators and clean floors. He followed the latter charm all around the hallway until he found what happened to the detritus that got cleaned, and pointed out the little pile of trash and dirt, assuming someone would notice his gesture and take care of it.
Then he tuned that out, too, and started on smaller magics, personal charms and magic items, then going even smaller and following all the little broken threads and bits of things that weren't part of anything, any longer.
In the end, he found several interesting things, but other than the cache of spell-sweepings, none of them were parts of the thing that had attacked Geoff.
"What did it look like, anyway?" asked Alex, feeling his ears pop as he silenced the now-faint thrum of his tuning fork.
"Ugh, it was horrible," said one of the techs, making a face. "Like a giant metal mosquito." He gave a shudder.
"More insects," said Alex thoughtfully. "Have you figured out which of the things we gathered up are of the same ilk?" he asked Armistead, trying not to sound too challenging about it. After all, the man had had weeks now while Alex was unconscious and otherwise occupied.
"No," said Armistead, annoyed. "There's only a few people authorised to open those boxes, so it's been very slow going."
"How can I get to the other side of the hall?" asked Alex, rather than pointing out that, if he was authorised, he could probably figure it out for them in about ten minutes.
"Go through that lab," said the friendly tech apologetically. "It's a bit of a maze, but you can come out the other side without having to step in any of the taped-off areas."
Alex smiled. "Thank you," he said, gesturing for his Guardians to go with him.
"Why do you rate bodyguards, anyway?" said Armistead, standing to get in Alex's way.
"Ask them," said Alex with a shrug. "It wasn't my decision."
"Mr. Benedict saved the life of a priest of the Temple of Purification, nearly at the cost of his own," said James with great dignity. "He is to be protected until the perpetrator is no longer able to harm him."
Alex thought that phrasing was very interesting indeed, but he refrained from commenting on it, instead using James' intervention as an excuse to slip into the lab where Jacques was waiting. "Thanks," he said, when James followed shortly after, leaving Armistead spluttering at the idea of Alex as a hero.
They made their way through the lab, the propped-open connecting door to the next lab, and back out on the other side, where Armistead contented himself with glaring rather than attempting to restart the conversation. Alex repeated his trick on the other side of the hall, finding the detritus from the cleaning spell and then poking around for stray bits of this and that. He could hear a bit of the broken dissonance he associated with the insect-constructs, and he chased it down with a single-minded intensity until he ended up running straight into one of the other agents.
"Were you up here earlier?" demanded Alex, his concentration shattered.
"Aren't you going to apologise?" countered the agent, irritation clouding his features.
"Were you wearing those trousers with the turned-up cuffs? It might be in there, if it bounced, or on the bottom of one of your shoes, or you could just be in my way," said Alex, ignoring the man's increasing irritation.
"What might be?" he asked, gritting his teeth.
"Evidence," said Alex, trying to wave over a crime scene tech. "I could sense the magic, but you're in the way so either it's behind you or on your person."
"I'm in the way?" said the agent. "You're the one keeping me out from delivering my evidence," he said, holding up the bag in his hand.
Alex froze, spotting the telltale curl of runes along what looked like a pincer of some kind. "That's not from this crime scene?" he asked carefully.
"No, it's from my crime scene," said the agent. "Now, move!"
"Smedley!" yelled Alex, deliberately staying in the man's way. "There's been another one!"
"Another one what? Get out of my way before I move you," said the man, reaching out to do just that.
James and Jacques appeared on either side of Alex, looking every inch the Guardians they were. "You will wait for Agent Smedley," said James evenly. "It's important."
Alex breathed a little sigh of relief as he heard Smedley stomping through the maze of lab tables and swearing at idiots who couldn't manage a straight line. "He'll explain," said Alex.
"He'd better," said the other agent, very annoyed indeed. He stepped to one side as Smedley came up to them and asked, "Who is this and why is he trying to interfere with my evidence?"
"Agent Fischer, this is our magical consultant, Alex Benedict," said Smedley with a sigh. "What've you got there that's piqued his interest?"
"Evidence from my crime scene," said Fischer, still clearly annoyed. "There's a bunch of these little bits of metal all over, we're going to see if any of them match the wounds on the victim."
"They're from one of the constructs, I recognise the magic," said Alex. "Look at the design, it's the same sort of runes."
Smedley gestured for permission, then lifted up the corner of the bag and nodded. "I expect your crime scene and our crime scene are related, along with several others."
Fischer sighed. "Figures, are you going to take it away from me?"
Smedley shook his head. "No, a fresh perspective will be good for us," he said, "but we'll share information, I hope?"
Fischer glared at Alex, but nodded. "Yes, of course."
"Who's the victim? Did he die?" asked Alex, impatient with all this interdepartmental niceness.
Smedley rolled his eyes, but Fischer answered anyway. "John Pembroke, another high-placed bigwig."
"And the number one contender for Julian St. Albans," said Alex.
The Guardians were too professional to look worried, but Alex felt them looming just a
little more, anyway.
CHAPTER 20
In Which We Entertain a Startling Array of Visitors
By the time they finished up looking at Fischer's evidence in the Pembroke murder, Alex was too wiped out to even consider looking at the crime scene. His Guardians called Jones themselves and bustled him home, telling Smedley that he'd be by either tomorrow or the next day to view the scene, once the techs were all done.
Smedley took one look at Alex, swaying on his feet despite the cane, and agreed.
Alex slept himself out through night, morning, and right into lunch time, and woke to the wonderful smells of Jacques' cooking. He took his time, still feeling wobbly from staying up so late after all his magic yesterday, and so he showered, dressed and did a short meditation to calm his roiling thoughts before allowing his grumbling stomach to lead him out into the living room.
"I was starting to worry you'd died in your sleep," teased James, sitting on the couch and fiddling with his puzzle again.
Alex chuckled wryly. "I feel a bit as if I might have, but I seem to have recovered enough to beg for food."
"Tea and donuts to start," said Jacques, "and I'm making soup, which isn't ready yet."
"You're also to take the potion I left on the table," called James. "No arguments, it's a Guardian restorative, which you will drink and not analyse."
Alex laughed. "Yes, Dad," he teased, picking up the little bottle and listening to it for just a moment before being a good boy and drinking it down in one gulp. He washed the taste away with tea and donuts, sitting at the kitchen table to watch Jacques cook because he was pretty sure his leg wasn't going to put up with much standing today.
"Does that make me Mom?" asked Jacques, clearly amused.
"Don't make me come in there," warned James teasingly.
"Of course not," said Alex, "Murielle is Mom, you're my other Dad. I come from a tragically broken home."
They all laughed, and Alex was glad he'd taken the time to put himself together instead of subjecting them all to the very grumpy, out-of-sorts mood he'd been in when he awoke.
He was even happier about that when the doorbell rang, and it turned out to be quite an unexpected but welcome visitor -- a rather distraught Julian.
