The Courtship of Julian St. Albans Read Online Free Page A

recipient’s
resolve. He dropped them in one at a time and the swirling sped up just a
little with each addition until the metal had stirred itself back to a single
colour, taking in everything he’d offered it and giving back the pure shine of
silver.
    He double checked the timing, then took the box
and dropped in three hairs, root included, all together. The tuning forks,
which had been slowing dying out, each emitted a pure tone as if struck, then
went silent.
    He quickly put out the flame, and used tongs to
remove now-hot tuning forks to a nearby cooling rack, then poured the molten
silver into the mould. He used another, more focused hum of magic to force a
bubble of clean air into the very middle, shaping it so the silver would come
out in one perfect, hollow piece, ready to be polished and worn as soon as it
cooled.
    When he looked up at the clock, over an hour
had passed, and he felt that itch in the back of his brain that told him an
insight was brewing.
    He cleaned up the rest of his equipment while
he waited for the silver to cool naturally, testing the tuning forks for
warping and putting everything away in its proper place. By the time he was
done, the completed quit-spell amulet was cool enough to remove from the mould,
and he admired the shine of it in the palm of his fireproof glove.
    Perfect.
    He left it to cool completely in a steel bowl
and went to his library of magical tomes, most of them perfectly normal books
published on a press but a few priceless handwritten diaries of long-dead
magicians. He closed his eyes and passed his hand over the spines, feeling for
something that would resonate with the feeling he’d been chasing since
yesterday in Mandeville’s rooms.
    His hand came to rest on one of his rarest, a
bloody huge book bound in a kind of leather it was probably best not to think
about. The pages were made of real parchment, only preserved through the
thoughtful magic of its originator, who unfortunately had wanted to make sure
his ideas lived beyond him.
    “This is not perfect,” said Alex,
looking down at the grimoire of one of the must subtle, evil mages in history.
“Not perfect at all.”
    ~ ~ ~
    Alex had the amulet in one pocket and a ream of
disturbing notes in the other, and he determinedly whistled a cheerful tune as
he made his way through the busy halls of the Department of Magical
Investigation. Lapointe wasn’t in her office, but over by the coffee machine,
crowded into the office’s tiny kitchen with several colleagues and at least one
superior.
    “I’ve got something for you, and since you
supplied at least two of the ingredients, it’s not a bribe,” said Alex
cheerfully, tossing the smooth silver bauble to Lapointe with a wicked grin.
    She raised one eyebrow, but Supervisory Agent
Bristol, her immediate boss, just looked amused. “Benedict’s right, if you
contribute materials for personal magical artefacts it’s officially not
considered a bribe, especially if they help on the job.”
    She laughed. “It’s a quit-smoking charm,
not that much of a lifesaver,” she said wryly, but she looked at it with
renewed interest. “Why’s it so light?”
    “There’s air inside,” said the
annoyingly handsome man next to her, an Agent MacLean. He pulled a similar
silver charm out of his shirt, the design like a puffy cloud. “It’s like a
breath of fresh air, wherever you go, right?” His accent was delightfully
lilting, and Alex had long fantasised about what it might be like to hear him
say much naughtier things.
    “Yes, yes,” said Alex, annoyed as
always that such a lovely specimen could be so very straight. And that Lapointe
was oblivious to his puppyish attempts to get her attention, so Alex couldn’t
even enjoy him vicariously through her. “Anyway, I think I have a lead on
that,” he made a handwavey motion, “that thing I couldn’t
place.”
    “Is this about the St. Albans case?”
asked Bristol. “Smedley’s been very smug about the last lead you