“I’ve no idea what you mean,” he said casually. Still, I heard the hitch in his words. “Will you take the mission?”
“Yes,” I said, perturbed by Julian’s unease. I’d never seen the man waver, even in the face of gravest danger.
“Jolly good,” Julian said, putting on an air of cheer. “I’ll see you in London, then. You will receive all pertinent information once you arrive. Good day, sir.”
He disappeared, like the storm suddenly devoured him whole. I had no idea how he accomplished it, as I’d not felt the man kindle a spell. The wind howled outside the circle of protection, and a shiver ran down my spine. What had I gotten myself into?
3
Rimmed with Frost
That cabinet contains delicate equipment, please take care,” I panted, hurrying after the large man carrying my ebony alchemy cabinet up the stairs to my new London flat. It swayed this way and that, the doors threatening to open at any moment and scatter my vials in the snow.
He met my gaze with a smirk. “I go’ it. Don’t you worry none.” As if to prove he had it well in hand, he jostled the cabinet, which only made my heart flutter in panic.
“I said be careful, you great oaf.” I rushed forward to try and catch the cabinet should it fall.
“Wha’ you call me?” The overgrown sack of meat’s expression grew stormy.
I stepped up to him and kindled will into a terror spell. “I didn’t stutter. You will handle my possessions with care, or I’ll make your insides your outsides.”
His fear blossomed like a black rose while those around him laughed. “You gon’ take tha’ Delfin?” One of the other porters called him. “Show ‘im how you became the best bare-knuckle boxer in the East End.”
He glanced around at the expectant faces of his fellows before meeting my eyes. After only a moment, he averted his gaze, bowed his head and continued on with the cabinet. The laughter died.
“There’s a good lad,” I said as he left. I turned my attention to the other porters, all of whom stared at me now. “Go on, then.” I waved them all off, and they returned to work in silence.
You went too far, Vex scolded.
You prefer I use my fists?
Leave the petulance to the children, Aleister. Too quickly you resort to magic where words suffice, especially when you misplace your anger.
Vex’s words rang true, though I loathed to admit it.
Julian made the decision to permanently move me from Surrey to London. Most likely because he knew I wouldn’t have taken the mission had I known it required relocation. By whatever magic the man used, he arrived in England well before me. He secured a flat in the city and began the process of having my effects transferred before I even boarded the train home. I arrived in Surrey to find it nearly empty and men moving the last of my possessions. Julian left a missive explaining the Synod wished for me to bolster the ranks of the Knight Mages stationed in the city. A pretty way to say they wanted me where the Archmage could keep an eye on me.
I studied the brick face of my new abode. Like many such buildings in London, you could only barely tell it was brick. Though it stood in one of the nicer neighborhoods in the city, the soot showed no mercy and painted everything black. Turning, I scanned the streets in hopes of seeing Julian’s face. Few walked the streets at all. A week remained before winter, but Father Frost had long since settled in and worked tirelessly to freeze the city solid. While not as frigid as the Matterhorn, the London chill seeped into the bones. The few neighbors brave enough to head out did so in well-tailored furs and overcoats, every thread and button a display of affluence. I pulled my own greatcoat closer around my neck as the wind whipped my brown hair in front of my eyes. It had grown long while I traveled for the Knight Mages, a blessing that kept the frostbite from my ears.
When the last of my possessions made it safely inside, I followed. While not as large as my house in Surrey, I had no complaints about 67-69 Chancery Lane itself. It featured two bedrooms, a quaint sitting room, a lovely kitchen, and a stunning study. Life in London had never appealed to me, but the flat made the prospect more tolerable.
I slid down the hallway, dodging the porters. My sitting room looked mostly finished, though the haphazard placement of my armchairs and couches suggested a maelstrom made its way inside. As I stood there deciding how to fix this fever dream of a sitting room, a small fellow with a ragged jacket and hat approached. He smiled, revealing a mouthful of crooked and broken teeth.
“Can I help you, lad?”
“Aye sir.” He reached into his jacket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to me. His hand shook in his frayed glove. “We found ‘is on your desk.”
“Thank you.” I took the letter, and the little fellow tipped his hat and turned. I reached out and touched his arm, saying, “Wait a moment.”
The lad looked confused as I tucked the letter under my arm, peeled off my leather gloves and held them out to him. “Take these. They should fit you, and I think you’ll find them much warmer.”
“Wha’ you mean?” he said, not moving.
I smiled, took his hand, and put the gloves in his palm. “I imagine your fingers freezing off might make your work difficult.”
He took them, though he seemed unconvinced. I gave an encouraging nod, and he stripped off his old gloves and put the new pair on. He smiled, flexing his fingers and making the leather creak. “I ain’t ever felt nothing so warm. Thank you, sir.”
“No thanks needed.” I patted his arm again. He hurried off, and I turned my attention to the letter.
My mood soured.
Blue wax impressed with the
