Charms and Death and Explosions

by Honor Raconteur

  “If you don’t mind.” No one made clam chowder as good as this man. I’d yet to wriggle the recipe out of him, but it would happen eventually. I was determined on this point. As I waited for a bowl to be served up, I greeted the Royal Mage eating nearby. “Seaton. How goes it?”

  He had to swallow before he could answer. “I’ve cleared two buildings, but had to stop and help organize people. I’ll show you the map of who’s been allotted what so we don’t repeat each other’s efforts. You?”

  “Some fool tried to burn a stack of charms.” At his open wince, I added sourly, “We contained it. Marshall came and helped me dissipate the area before another wave of sickness could hit us.”

  “I’ll try to discourage people from burning anything. Have you seen Jamie?”

  “Just now, yes. She’s helping a young mother. Mrs. Dodd’s husband apparently wasn’t ill and is outside of the quarantine line at this moment. I understand quite a few families are in a similar situation, but they can enter if they wish?”

  “Yes, as long as they understand they can’t leave again for three weeks. We estimate it will take two weeks for this to run its course, but it will be another week before no one is contagious.”

  I winced at the thought of being cooped up in this section of the city for three weeks. “Us too?”

  “As long as we don’t get ill ourselves, and we can pass a health inspection, they’ll let us out sooner than that. But it will require staying in quarantine outside of the line for forty-eight hours to make sure we don’t show any symptoms.” Seaton leaned in to confide, “I’ve got another shift of workers getting ready to come in here, but it will take a few days to organize everyone and the supplies, so we have to tough it out until then.”

  That was all understandable. I nodded, resigned to my fate for the next several days, and accepted the warm bowl of chowder. The first spoonful was sheer ambrosia, and I sighed happily. At least good food was to be had during this turbulent time.

  “Davenforth,” Seaton murmured for my ears alone, “I do have one fear. It might be irrational, but….”

  I eyed him sideways. “What?”

  “We’ve already had several deaths from this. What if we have another person who wants revenge for that, and attempts their own version of a car bomb?”

  As much as I wished I could dismiss the concern, I couldn’t. “It’s entirely feasible someone will react that way. But who could they blame? The makers of the charms are already deceased. The shop owners? They are victims as well.”

  “They might not see it that way,” he cautioned. “They might blame the person who sold it to them. After all, they’re supposed to be screening for quality. These charms are supposed to be viable.”

  “You and I both know that a non-magical person doesn’t have a guaranteed method of ascertaining if a charm is good or bad,” my shoulders slumped as I said this, “but that’s unfortunately not common knowledge. Curse it, you’re likely right. I’ll request protection for the various shop owners for the next month and hope that deters anyone with vengeance in mind.”

  “Good. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that, but I’d rather not have another case complicating this one.”

  Yes, I must agree on that. I went back to eating my chowder, my body quite pleased with the sustenance making its way into my belly. In fact, I requested another bowl, and was on my third when two frantic looking men approached the cart.

  “Are you Royal Mage Seaton?” one of them demanded of Seaton.

  “I am indeed,” Seaton responded, wiping his hand of the fish oil before offering it. “Who might you gentlemen be?”

  “Dodd, Mark Dodd,” he responded, taking Seaton’s hand in a quick shake. “This is Butcher. Sir, we’ve got family inside at home, wives and kids who are sick, but we’re told we’re not allowed in because we’re healthy. Can’t you override this, let us in? Our wives, they can’t be taking it all on their own—”

  Seaton held up both hands. “Wait, wait, I think there’s a misunderstanding in play here. Gentlemen, the deal is this: You have a choice of whether you go in or not. If you choose to go in, you can’t come back out for three weeks. Your bosses have guaranteed you’ll have pay either way, but your freedom will be cut off for three weeks to leave the area. Is that what you choose to do?”

  The men exchanged confused glances.

  “Sir, that’s not what the officers up on Sea Lane said,” Butcher informed Seaton with a shake of the head. “They said if you’re healthy, you’re not going in.”

  “Oh, devil take it,” Seaton grumbled. “That’s not what I ordered at all.”

  Scraping up the last bite from my bowl, I inquired, “Mr. Butcher, by any chance, are you the tenant of room 304 in that building?”

  Butcher blinked at me. “I am, sir.”

  “Dr. Henri Davenforth, Magical Examiner,” I introduced myself belatedly. “I’m one of the men replacing the bad charms that caused all of this. I believe your family is still with Dr. Cartwright, being examined. Mr. Dodd, my partner is with your wife and children helping to clean things up a little so the children can rest comfortably. Gentlemen, why don’t you ask Mr. Houghton if he will be kind enough to share a few bowls of chowder with your families; that way your children have something nutritious and easy to eat tonight for dinner?”

  Houghton nodded encouragement to this, his hands already moving over the small counter to dish up the bowls.

  “And I’ll escort you both in myself,” I finished, trying to keep my exhaustion out of my smile. “Mr. Butcher, if you’ll let me into your apartment first, so that I can cleanse the place magically, you may, of course, go to your family afterwards.”

  “Bless you, Doctor,” Butcher said with open relief. “I’ll do that.”

  “Your partner is with my family?” Dodd seemed quite astonished at this. “Have they taken a turn? Worse than the others?”

  “No, no,” I hastened to assure him. “She’s a detective, non-magical. Detective Edwards is intent on helping anyone who needs an extra hand, and your wife was so exhausted trying to manage all three children, Edwards stepped in to offer assistance. I assure you, they have medications and are resting now. There’s no cause for undue alarm.”

  “Oh. Thank you, Doctor.” Dodd seemed on the verge of sinking to the ground and having a well-earned moment of hysterics. I sympathized entirely. In fact, if he chose to do so, I would be obliged to join him.

  Handing Houghton my empty bowl, I accepted two full ones from him. Seaton waved himself off, heading towards Sea Lane and likely going to give the officers on duty there a blistering lecture on listening properly to instructions the first time. To the two harried husbands, I encouraged, “Come along. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

  Sometime in the chaos of the afternoon, we received word that a panicked individual in Fourth District tried to set fire to several charms. It caused an explosion that took out half of his apartment building, prompting Seaton to teleport in order to take care of it. It violated the quarantine, which certain doctors were unhappy about, but I didn’t think Seaton could contaminate anyone, considering the very powerful anti-sickness charm that he wore.

  When he returned, Seaton brought back word that news of the epidemic had spread via an article in the morning news, one somehow featuring Jamie’s picture. He’d also learned that ours was not the only outbreak. Another one on the far end of Fourth Precinct’s jurisdiction had occurred. It was in the beginning stages, not as advanced as the problem here, but several of the specialists we needed had been diverted to stamp that out before it could grow any larger. The help that we expected would be delayed several days.

  None of us were best pleased to hear it.

  Near midnight, I finally stumbled to the house where we were supposed to lodge for the next few days. Despite the lateness of the hour, I found that most of the lights were on in the main floor, with people coming in and out, so I assumed we still functioned in round-the-clock emergency mode. I myself had worked eight
een hours and was due a hot meal and a bed.

  The house was a nice one for the area—well-kept, the lawn precisely manicured in its cuts, the furniture that I could see through the windows well appointed. I had no idea what Dr. Cartwright’s brother did for his living, but it was apparently well enough for him to afford this nice home. As I approached the door, I debated what to do. Should I knock? Just enter? It seemed rude to do the latter, but I had no desire to wake the sleeping occupants of the house, either. Fortunately, as I made the porch, the door opened and one of the Kingsmen stepped out. Bennett gave me a nod but passed without a word. I assumed him to be on some errand.

  I slipped past him then paused in the carpeted foyer, unsure of my direction. The stairs were straight in front of me, which I assumed led to bedrooms, but the idea of just brazenly going up and searching for an empty room sat ill with me. As I paused, I heard a faint singing coming from my right. I recognized the voice instantly, as I’d heard Jamie sing often in the almost three months I’d known her. I swear, instead of the Shinigami Detective, she should be known as the Singing Detective.

  Following my ears, I stepped through a front parlor and toward two wooden sliding doors, ones that I supposed led to a library. I was mistaken, as they were half-open to reveal a nursery. My indomitable partner sat in a rocking chair, an infant in her arms, singing a lullaby I’d never heard before.

  Her tone was gentle, sweet, a promise of warmth and safety. “—soft the drowsy hours are sleeping, hill and dale in slumber sleeping, I my loving vigil keeping, all through the night.”

  I came to a natural stop at the doorway and watched her for a moment. I rarely saw Jamie in a tender state of mind, affectionate and peaceful. I knew her to be good with children, I’d seen several instances of that, but this was the first time that she looked more motherly to my eyes. I stood there silently, taking in the scene, my heart aching. Any chance she had of being a mother had been robbed from her by Belladonna. Jamie’s system was so unstable that the changes pregnancy required would undo her utterly. It would kill both her and the child, likely in the first trimester.

  Jamie Edwards would be a wonderful mother. And she’d never get the chance.

  My head fell back for a moment, strong emotion rippling through my facial muscles as I controlled the urge to violently swear. If Belladonna were still alive, I’d murder her myself with my bare hands for all of the harm she’d done my friend.

  “Sir?”

  I snapped about sharply, unaware that someone had come up behind me. I took him to be Mr. Cartwright from his appearance, as he bore a striking resemblance to the good doctor. Not wishing to disturb the child peacefully slumbering in Jamie’s arms, I quietly shut the door, muting the lullaby to a mere whisper. “Yes. You must be Mr. Cartwright.”

  “James,” he offered, extending a hand.

  “Pleasure,” I returned, shaking his hand. “Dr. Henri Davenforth.”

  “Ah, Detective Edwards’ partner,” he responded in an enlightened tone. “I’m glad you’ve finally come in, she was quite worried about you. Come, this way. There’s still dinner to be had in the kitchen. We’ve kept it warm on the stove.”

  “Bless you, sir,” I responded, as food sounded quite divine at that moment.

  He led me through a formal dining room and into a kitchen with a large farmhouse table, white cabinets, and butcher block tops. The place was clean, but in a state of higgledy-piggledy, I assumed from the many people eating at all hours. He ushered me to a seat, which I gratefully took, and loaded up a plate on my behalf. It was a lovely concoction of glazed ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, and fluffy biscuits.

  I tucked into it with hearty thanks, not minding the company when Mr. Cartwright sat nearby.

  “Has the situation improved out there?”

  “We still have patients who need medical attention, but everyone has food in their houses, and we’ve got a third of the houses cleared of the bad charms,” I filled him in between bites. “We’re making steady progress. I expect we won’t see any overt signs of improvement for another week, sadly.”

  “I’m glad you came as you did,” Mr. Cartwright responded with transparent sincerity. “Charles was worried, and rightly so, but couldn’t get any of the authorities interested in responding. I guess because so many sicknesses sweep through this section of town, it’s old news to them. He couldn’t seem to get it through their heads that this was different. That it was dangerous because charms were likely involved.”

  “I’m equally glad that our young officer stopped by the desk and randomly saw his call for help. I might not have known about this situation for days otherwise.” In fact, the idea that I might well have missed that telegram scared me witless. So many of the sick were either elderly or infants. They would not have survived the onslaught of the influenza, not with that sickness charm constantly reinforcing their illness, giving their bodies no respite.

  “Yes, so Detective Edwards said.” Mr. Cartwright paused, eyeing me with a trace of caution. “Forgive me for asking, but…her name is familiar to me. I read an article this morning in the paper detailing the destruction of Belladonna. That is the Shinigami Detective, is it not?”

  I paused with a fork halfway to my mouth and mentally cursed. The anniversary. With all of the madness of the epidemic, I had quite overlooked that the anniversary was tomorrow. Or today, considering the time. Had anyone else read that article? Likely so, if he’d seen it. I looked him right in the eye. If he started some outcry because of her reputation, I would not be merciful. “She is.”

  He sat back, puffing out an astonished breath. “I thought she was, because of the name, and her likeness in the paper. It could only be her. But it’s hard to reconcile her reputation with the woman I met this afternoon. She’s so…”

  “Charming? Personable? Kind?” I filled in dryly. He did not seem inclined to make a scene. Good. “Yes, many are surprised by her true nature. You realize, I hope, that her reputation came from a singular act. An act forced upon her in order to survive. It does not define the woman as a whole.”

  “No,” he murmured in thoughtful agreement, staring steadfastly at the table. “I can see that it doesn’t. She was so tender with my daughter earlier, giving both my wife and I a break, as we couldn’t get Emma to settle. She sang her to sleep. I didn’t recognize the lullaby, but she has a lovely voice.”

  “Yes, she does. She sings often.” I chose not to comment on the song itself. Jamie didn’t care if people knew she was from another world, but I remained more cautious about divulging that information. People were not tolerant of differences and Jamie was already very different from the women in this society. It would do her no favors to add upon them.

  His eyes returned to me as I continued eating. “How did the two of you become partners, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “There was a case some three months ago that required a person with magical training to investigate it. You heard of the case with the Night Foxes? Yes, that one. Jamie was automatically assigned to it, because of her reputation, and then I was thrown into the mix to assist her. It turns out we’re a rather fine team, and our captain asked to make it permanent. We’d become rather good friends by the end of the case, and agreed.” I shrugged, as it was a simple enough story. If you cut out all of the near-death experiences and drama that occurred during that time.

  “Does that mean there are that many magical cases that it can keep you both occupied?”

  “Not quite. Or at least, not at first. What cases Jamie took on that didn’t involve magic, she normally worked herself, bringing on a junior member of the force to help train and mentor. I’d say half of the cases handed to us actually require my expertise.” Which was just the right ratio, in my opinion. Any more than that and I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the lab work that Sanderson refused to do.

  “I see. I’m relieved to hear it. The thought of magical crimes becoming common place is not one that I relish.” Shaking his head, he moved to a d
ifferent topic. “I’m afraid space is limited here, as we’re housing a dozen of you during the course of the next few days. RM Seaton assured me that you wouldn’t mind sharing a room with him. Is that correct?”

  “He and I are good friends,” I reassured my host. “We’ll be fine in the same room. Don’t worry over that, we’re all grateful to have a place to lay our heads.”

  “My wife and I are very happy to help. Relieved, really, at a chance for paying your help back. There are only two bathing chambers upstairs, I’m afraid, one at either end of the hall. But there are clean towels stocked inside each, and you may, of course, use any of the soaps available in the room.”

  “Thank you.” I tucked away the last bit of ham and sighed in satisfaction. “My compliments to the cook, it was very fine.”

  He ducked his head at the compliment, pleased. “You’re quite welcome. Please, let me show you up.”

  The next six days passed by with tedium and exhaustion. We divided up the workload amongst us, tackling each apartment in turn, stripping out the bad charms, replacing them with a good charm, then disposing of the ones not needed for evidence. It required repeating the same questions and answers over and over to the point of nausea. Jamie, McSparrin, and four of the other officers called on scene handled everything non-charm related, and I did not envy them their jobs. I believe Jamie was only able to manage because of her inhuman stamina. McSparrin kept up with her through sheer willpower.

  The influenza was so much worse than the normal type. It had all of the symptoms of a normal influenza, but with the magical boost at its source, it attracted like viruses. People who should have been miserably ill instead tottered on the edge of dangerously ill, even people who had excellent health. I held many a person’s hand, saw the fear and desperation in their eyes, and swore to them that we’d do everything in our power to save them. Only some believed me, I think. Hope takes energy to cultivate and these people had little to spare.