Magic and the Shinigami Detective

by Honor Raconteur

  “My mother, Ophelia, comes across as a socialite without a brain in her head but don’t be fooled. She can be sharp when she wants to be. She has a depressing tendency to meddle when things don’t go as she expects, so if she starts on you, signal me. I’ll play interference.” My parents I could explain, but my sister I didn’t have a ready synopsis for. “I only have one sibling, Emilia, who is three years my senior. She’s lovely, like our mother, but has a more brisk manner to her. I found her to be bossy and domineering when younger, meddlesome once we both became adults. We aren’t close, but our relationship has improved now that we’re in separate domiciles.”

  “Sounds like many families I know.”

  “Indeed so. Emilia is married to Regis Robichard, whom we all call Reggie. He’s the quintessential ‘good natured chap’ in many ways. A textile manufacturer, he’s a self-made man, not someone from old money. I find him more approachable because of that. He doesn’t come with any of society’s silly preconceived notions.”

  Edwards indicated the gift in my lap. “You mentioned the dinner is to celebrate something?”

  “Ah, yes. Emilia and Reggie have been trying to conceive for the past five years of their marriage and they happily announced they are expecting this week. The dinner is for them.” I thought I’d mentioned that, but perhaps not. “You brought a gift as well, I see.”

  “Hostess gift,” she explained with a tap of her fingers to the box. “Some of those gourmet chocolates you like so much.”

  The gesture was very thoughtful and one I hadn’t expected. So many of our mannerisms were automatic and engrained I didn’t think to mention them to Edwards until the twelfth hour. “You bring hostess gifts on your planet as well, I take it?”

  “We do. Or we’re supposed to. People don’t always think of it. What did you get them?”

  “A baby rattle. It seemed the safest option, as we don’t know the gender of the child yet.” Magic could determine it, but my sister was only two months along, it was a bit early for that yet.

  Her eyes studied me for a moment. “You look…relieved?”

  “Relieved and happy,” I admitted easily. A glance out the window confirmed we were nearly there. I knew this street well, having grown up on it. “My parents dearly wish for grandchildren. My sister was impatient to be a mother. Not having one for five years put a strain on everyone’s relationships with each other. I’m relieved that strain is now gone.”

  “If that’s the case,” here she looked confused, as well she should be, “why am I invited to what should be a very private celebration?”

  I ticked the points off on my fingers. “Because you’re my partner, my mother adores company, and you’re famous. And we’re here.” Not waiting for the coachman, I opened the door and stepped down before turning and offering my hand.

  Edwards took it, not out of politeness, but actual need. Her balance wavered a little as she tried to maneuver eight layers of skirts through a narrow coach door. We both heaved a soft sigh of relief when her feet found firm ground once again.

  Brook, the butler that had served our family for at least two hundred years, came outside and waited patiently on the front stoop of the three-story brick townhouse. Most Brownies went silver as they aged but he’d apparently decided to go gold, as his hair, beard, and eyebrows had a more bronze tint to them than the last time I’d seen him. At barely three feet, we towered over him, but I knew better than to try to hunch to greet him. Brook put great stock in proper posture. “Brook.”

  “Master Henri. I am delighted to see you in such beautiful company.” He turned a smile on Edwards, which looked moderately alarming with such sharp teeth.

  “Edwards, this is Brook of Blooming Hills, our most esteemed butler.” I’d learned from an early age to introduce him that way. The Brownie was not above kicking shins. “Brook, may I present Detective Jamie Edwards.”

  Brook took her hand and bowed over it. “Miss Edwards.”

  Quite to my astonishment, she dipped into a curtsey, so smoothly done I would have mistaken her for a Kingston native if I didn’t know better. “Mr. Brook. A pleasure.”

  He gave her a smile of approval. “Please follow me. The Master and Mistress are both quite excited to meet you tonight.”

  I heard what he didn’t say. “Emilia and Reggi haven’t arrived?”

  “And when is Miss Emilia ever on time?” Brook responded easily as he led us through the door.

  From the corner of my eye, I observed Edwards as she took in the front foyer. It did lean a little toward the ostentatious with the checkerboard black and white tiles, chandelier, and curving staircase making its way grandly toward the upper floors. She barely blinked, however, proving that material things did not move her.

  Secretly pleased, we went through to the parlor, where indeed my parents waited with obvious impatience. Father stopped pacing in front of the open hearth immediately on our entrance, and my mother popped up from her favorite chair near the garden window.

  “Miss Jamie Edwards,” Brook announced briefly before giving a short bow and letting himself out of the room again.

  “Oh my, how lovely you are.” Ophelia went straight to Edwards with arms outstretched, catching Edwards’ free hand with both of hers. Tone mock-scolding, she continued without seemingly catching her breath, “Really, this son of mine, he could have mentioned that you have such excellent style. Thank you for coming, Detective. I’m Ophelia Davenforth and this is my husband, Rupert.”

  We’d barely been here a minute. Did I need to intercede already?

  “Thank you so much for the invitation, Mrs. Davenforth,” Edwards replied with a charming smile, returning the grip. “I’ve long wanted to meet Henri’s family, as he’s told me stories about you, but I’m quite afraid I’m intruding this evening. I understand you have wonderful news to celebrate tonight.”

  I blinked at her. Since when was Jamie Edwards charming?

  Ophelia lit up in delight. “Think nothing of it, good news should be shared.”

  Rupert came to stand at his wife’s side, extending a hand, exchanging proper greetings with Edwards. “Very good of you to come, Detective. You’ll need to regale us with the tale of how you and Henri became partners. Last I heard, he didn’t need one.”

  “He doesn’t,” Edwards gave me a soft smile, “it’s me that needs one. Your son stepped in to fill the gap rather than make me struggle along on my own. I am delighted to tell you that he’s been a perfect gentleman, not to mention a lifesaver, ever since we met.”

  I felt my cheeks warm under this praise.

  “Well.” Ophelia seemed lost for words for a moment, a rare feat in and of itself. “Thank you. And you’re welcome?”

  Laughing, Edwards agreed with a nod. “Both work. I brought you a small token as thanks for dinner. I’m not sure if you’ll like them, I just chose Henri’s favorites.”

  My mother took the box from her and lifted the lid. “Oh my, Kingston’s Chocolatier’s specialty. You didn’t have to, my dear.”

  “I also owe him,” Edwards admitted easily, still displaying charm and ease. “I stole some of Henri’s chocolates several days ago.”

  Father had the gall to laugh. “Nothing more sacred to him than his sweets. He must like you quite a bit. But here, come, sit down and chat while we wait for my eldest to finally arrive.”

  I watched Edwards join my parents on the couch and realized that this woman was like an onion. Clearly there were layers I hadn’t discovered yet.

  Brook appeared out of thin air, like usual, to take the sweets from my mother. They’d reappear later at the dinner table, no doubt, arranged on some fancy tray because Presentation Is Important according to the Brownie.

  Settling in a chair nearby, I observed carefully, ready to intervene if necessary. Two things quickly became apparent to me. One, neither of my parents possessed the slightest inkling that Edwards hailed from another world. Two, my partner apparently had donned some sort of persona that allowed her to navi
gate the conversational waters without mishap. She was Edwards, and yet not, instead some version of the woman who could pass society’s standards without blinking an eye. Who had taught her all of the skills necessary to do so? Seaton, perhaps?

  And how did she come to possess the ability to act outside of her norm and do it so comfortably that even I, who knew her, became almost fooled?

  A memory came to me, a time when she’d told me she had been trained similarly to the Kingsmen. They served as the ruling monarch’s eyes, ears, and hands in diplomatic situations. Their services excelled over a normal policeman’s. If she was trained to be like them, then…I felt my perception of her tilt, taking on another dimension. Hearing the words hadn’t penetrated, but seeing her in action now, I realized she must have been a very good agent on Earth.

  Perhaps Jamie Edwards had been the only one to survive Belladonna’s workshop of horrors simply because she was the only one who had the skills to survive being in this world afterwards. Perhaps it was a kindness on fate’s part, instead of punishment.

  Emilia and Reggie came swirling in like a heralded storm, as usual. I gave Emilia a quick overall study as she entered. We shared our father’s coloring of dark hair, dark eyes, although her skin tone remained light like our mother’s. My sister glowed more than normal, although I saw no other change to her. Then again, it would be months yet before she started showing. She came straight for me, crushing me in a tight embrace, and then bounced back to scold, “You are entirely unreachable when there’s good news to be had.”

  “I’ve had nothing but emergencies for the past few days,” I shot back sarcastically. “Blame fate. Reggie, good to see you. Congratulations to you both.”

  My brother-in-law beamed, his ruddy skin more pronounced than usual because of his high spirits. He shook my hand, grip firm as usual, although I noticed the calluses on his palms had softened considerably. Perhaps he finally felt comfortable leaving the physical work for his employees? “We’re all pleased as punch, ourselves. Emmy’s due in just shy of seven months, the doctors say. When it comes time, you’ll do the scan to tell us gender, won’t you?”

  “I’d be pleased to,” I assured them both. “For now, let me introduce my partner. This is Jamie Edwards. Edwards, my sister Emilia and her husband, Reggie.”

  I could tell from Emilia’s expression she was taken aback by Edwards’ appearance. People heard ‘Shinigami Detective’ and the reputation that came with it and pictured some brute of a woman that could bench press small elephants. I certainly had until I’d caught my first glimpse of her.

  Edwards forestalled any impending interrogation by greeting them with a smile. “Congratulations to you both. I understand that this child has been five years in the making.”

  Reggie let out his booming laugh. “You can say that again! Good to meet you, Detective. Although I hadn’t heard Henri had a partner, that’s news to me.”

  “Do tell us how that happened,” Emilia encouraged, eyes avidly curious.

  “Let’s go in and sit down to dinner,” my mother said, arms spread and gently shepherding us in the right direction. “We’re all quite curious ourselves.”

  I sidestepped and managed to get Edwards slightly separated from the throng as they made their way into the connecting room. In a low voice, I asked, “Now tell me when you learned to be charming.”

  “I’m trained in interrogation techniques,” she deadpanned back at me, eyes twinkling and a smile flirting around her mouth.

  “Excellent,” I responded in the same dry tone. “You’re about to get one.”

  Chuckling, she swept ahead of me as if not even worried. Mentally bracing myself, I followed her.

  Hopefully the evening wouldn’t become interminable.

  I thought the dinner went very well, actually. His mother only asked three ridiculous questions of me, his sister mellowed when she realized I wouldn’t eat her face off, and his father found it grand that a woman could be a marksman. I had to step out in the backyard for a friendly shooting competition with him to prove it. It perfectly scandalized his mother and she reveled in the drama of it.

  It was fun, too, seeing where Henri pulled his looks from. The dark hair and high forehead from his father, the curls and blue eyes from his mother. He seemed to pull more strongly from his mother’s genetics, as he certainly didn’t have his father’s height. Like myself, he was an interesting blend of both genetic lines.

  Strangely enough, the evening reminded me of time spent with my own family, despite the fact that Henri’s family didn’t resemble mine at all. Well, we both have older siblings and two parents, but other than that they weren’t at all alike. I enjoyed it, but it made my heart ache for home.

  Perhaps that was why the nightmares were especially bad that night. Or perhaps it was because I’d been sleeping and cooped up for almost six days straight. Inactivity always made the nightmares worse. I recognized the symptoms of borderline PTSD, although of course no one on this world would. It made me actually wish for a shrink.

  Three in the morning, the phone rang. I jarred awake, coming to and realizing I had a hand on my gun and a foot on the floor out of reflex. Disgusted with myself, I took a moment to wipe the sweat from my forehead and steady my nerves. Then I went into the kitchen to answer the phone.

  “Edwards.”

  It was Henri. I’d recognize that mellow baritone anywhere. How much noise had I made that I woke him out of a sound sleep? “Hi, Henri.”

  “I heard troubling noises coming from your apartment. Are you well?”

  “Just bad dreams. Nothing to worry about.”

  There was a pregnant pause and I could just hear that overactive brain of his kick into high gear. “I can come up and keep you company if you wish.”

  The offer was a kind one, but I didn’t like people seeing me vulnerable, even with a good friend like Henri Davenforth. “I’m alright, it was just a dream. Thank you, Henri, but go to bed.”

  “Alright. But if you change your mind, I’m here. Good night.”

  “Night.” I hung up the phone and stared at it for a long moment. I’d worried him. I knew I had. What was I doing, putting off treating this condition, worrying my friends unnecessarily? I was the captive of an insane woman for months, that would send anyone into a bit of a tailspin. I’d accidentally killed a man and his death haunted me, taunting me in dreams about what I could have done to prevent it. All of that was understandable, but at the same time understanding was not accepting. Was I incapable of admitting when I needed a little help?

  Maybe it was time I looked into finding that shrink.

  Despite all expectations, dinner had passed pleasantly and none of my family looked sideways at me, as if expecting me to share my own ‘good news’ of impending nuptials. I owed that last part to Edwards, as she diffused such notions in how she told the tale of us partnering.

  The night after the dinner party, I heard those thumps and guttural noises again in the middle of the night. This time, I recognized them for what they were. Nightmares. I felt more than a little frustrated that even though Edwards obviously suffered from them, she wouldn’t come to me. She obviously wouldn’t go to anyone, as I heard no one enter her apartment.

  It made me resolve to find some sort of solution for her. If she wouldn’t come to us, maybe I could find a way to go to her.

  Aside from the restless nights, the entire weekend passed quietly by. I, for one, felt very grateful for it, as enough had happened during the week that I needed a day of recuperation. None of us expected the thieves to move soon, as they had just lost a member, but watchmen had been set. Just in case.

  What with the easy nature of the weekend and so forth, I sauntered into work on Gather Day morning with a smile on my face, feeling energetic enough to tackle the stack of work that no doubt awaited me.

  I wondered if Edwards’ ‘Murphy’ had a law for this.

  “DAVENFORTH!” Sanderson burst into my lab, nearly purple with apoplectic fury, his magic in
such disarray that it made his thinning brown hair stand on end. For such a small man, he certainly could make a dynamic entrance. He was so incensed that ropes of muscle peeked out from under the cuffs of his sleeves, which quite impressed me, as Sanderson was one of the most soft-shelled people I knew. “What is the meaning of this?!”

  I glanced idly at the piece of paper he waved wildly in the air, not at all alarmed at the wild gesticulations. Sanderson came bursting in at least once a month, frothing at the mouth about something. Perhaps the full moon set him off. “Do clarify,” I requested in a bored tone.

  “That partner of yours is doing something completely nonsensical.” He waved the paper about again like a matador taunting a bull. “She’s demanding that all officers know how to do some resuscitation technique that is complete rubbish and, to top it all off, she’s equally demanding that the female officers be allowed a one-week training camp in hand-to-hand combat! Can you imagine the indecency of it?! As if a woman has the strength to subdue a man!”

  I actually hadn’t heard about the last part. I had no doubt that Edwards, if she so chose, could put any man on his back. Through sheer willpower if nothing else. “If you’re so irate about this, why are you ranting about it to me?”

  “She’s your partner, isn’t she?” The way he spat ‘partner’ made me think he meant ‘lover.’ “Control her!”

  Normally Sanderson failed to get much of a rise from me. For one, it’s bad for my blood pressure. But it would be like getting angry with a flatworm. It had limited intelligence and understanding of the world, so getting angry at it would serve no purpose except to make you look like a fool. But the way he spoke now got my blood boiling and I left my stool so quickly that the back legs snapped sharply against the tile floor.