Leslie was kind enough to offer us a bed for the night, but we declined, our business being too urgent for us to lose any more time. Sighing, she found her smart phone and tapped an icon. Obligingly, she hit the SPEAKER and let us listen in.
A clicking noise as a gravelly voice answered, “Ma? Is that you?”
“Yes, Alexander, it’s me,” replied Leslie with a melancholy smile.
“Look, if it’s about the glass rose, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” Alexander, despite his deep, gruff voice, sounded petulant and childish.
I looked at Jude.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Leslie purred. “It’s not about that. Where are you?”
“At our place in Bend.”
“Good. Honey, a couple of friends of mine want to talk to you. It’s important.”
Alexander’s voice became even rougher. “I don’t wanna talk to anyone, Ma.”
“Sweetie,” she soothed. “It’s all right. They’re good people. One’s a priest.”
“And the other one, Ma, is he a slim, darker man, dark like an Ay-rab or Jew?”
I felt a prickle down my spine. Jude shook his head, eyes hooded with concern. This wasn’t going to end well.
“Yes, his name is Jude. I believe he’s a good man.”
“Ma, I see either that priest or that Ay-rab Jew up here and I’m gonna put a hole in ’em. That also goes for that uptight Limey bastard you got waitin’ on you hand and foot.”
Leslie’s face became a study in apprehension. “Alexander, please!”
“The name’s Baphemaloch, Ma.” Behind me I heard Jude swear softly. Later, I’d have to talk to him about his language. “Me and the Demons are going to Keep the Glass Rose Safe.” I could hear the capitals in his voice. “So if you see your two pals, tell them Baphemaloch is waiting.” The line went dead.
“Shit,” Jude muttered while Leslie moaned and began to weep, laying her head on Nigel’s shoulder.
“Language,” I admonished. Still, I couldn’t put any heat into the rebuke because of the creepy feeling skittering over my skin. Alexander/Baphemaloch’s voice had carried a diamond-sharp edge.
“What? What’s going on?” Nigel said, perplexed and angry.
Jude sighed. “Alexander is under the influence.”
Nigel raised an eyebrow through the curls of Leslie’s hair as she dampened his tux with her tears.
“What, Jude?” I kept my tone neutral. “What kind of influence? Drugs?”
He shook his head, avoiding our eyes. “Who are the demons he was talking about?”
“The biker gang he belongs to, Demon’s Blood,” Leslie’s voice was muffled by the stiff fabric of Nigel’s jacket.
“Mate, the priest asked you a question. What influence is Alexander under?” Nigel inquired calmly, features set in stone.
He fingered the notch in his ear. “Drugs, man. Probably meth.”
Jude’s lie caused a wave of nausea to sweep through me. His terrible poker face was visible only to me because he was half turned away from Nigel. He knew I’d caught him out.
Leslie sobbed harder as Nigel stroked her hair.
A few minutes later the couple escorted us through the front door/garage/drawbridge affair all the way to the wrought-iron gate. Jude turned to the shaken Leslie and said, “I’ll do what I can to help Alexander.”
A spark of hope caught behind her eyes and blazed. “You promise?” she begged in a little girl lost voice.
“Hey!” Jude said suddenly. “I still owe you some magic.” He turned to Nigel and me. “Give us a moment, gents.”
Obligingly we moved away, watching curiously as Jude leaned in and whispered into Leslie’s ear.
I looked at the butler. “Nigel, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”
He grinned impishly “You want to know what a former SAS chap from Liverpool is in the States acting like a proper butler to her nibs?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Not too ruddy hard to figure. I retired from service and was dithering around my flat when a chum of mine who runs an employment service calls and informs me that
One thing puzzled me. “Why the upper-crust dialect?”
“Americans expect the snooty, snide type of talk they see in Merchant Ivory productions,” he said as if that explained everything. At my look of incomprehension, he said, “I must of watched
I nodded sagely, wondering if Leslie realized how much he cared for her.
A few seconds later Leslie gave Jude a tight hug, her face bright and happy, while he surreptitiously rubbed his nose.
“Thank you very much for your generosity, Ms. Winchester,” Jude said with false good cheer. “I’m sorry for any ruckus we might have caused.”
“Nonsense, Jude!” she said, dimpling prettily. “I’m sorry for all the screaming. And please, it’s Leslie.”
“Leslie it is, then.”
“Hey, I still have to call Alexander for you, just a sec.” She began toward the castle, but Jude put himself in her way with one swift move.
“No need, Leslie, I’ll find him. I have my ways and it will be just fine.”
Nigel and I gave each other a puzzled look but kept our traps shut.
“You still owe me some more magic,” said Leslie.
“Right you are!” Jude ran his slender fingers though her hair and said a Word.
I’ve heard Jude use Words and, like all the others, this one slipped into my ear and nestled in the frontal lobe like a happy cat before screeching and tearing off out the other ear. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant.
Whatever Word he whispered in her ear hit like an electric shock, causing her to tremble violently. Her eyes grew so round, so wide I thought that they would pop out.
Nigel rushed forward, body poised to lash out with lethal force, but suddenly the tension went out of Leslie as if someone had blown out the candle of her rigidity.
“Oh, wow … what a rush,” she breathed, face flushed and streaming with sweat.
“You all right, mum?” Nigel asked, voice tight.
She grabbed him by the shoulders and planted a long wet one on him that carried so much heat that even the neighbors must have felt it.
“Good lord,” I said, crossing myself and pulling Jude away from the two and their frantic embrace. “Jude, what did you do?”
“Hit her with a Forgetting, erased the memory of the conversation with Alexander.” The happy couple continued their clinch, Nigel giving as much as he got and adding a bit of interest. “I also gave her Vigor, which is a lot like a super dose of caffeine without the tremors.” He eyeballed the two for another moment. “I think it tore down the barrier that has kept those two apart.”
I whispered out of the corner of my mouth, “Was a Forgetting necessary?”
“You saw how broken up she was,” he whispered back. “This is much better, although I hate messing with peoples’ minds. The smell of licorice makes me want to barf.”
“How’s your ear, by the way?” I asked, pointing to the notch right above the lobe of his left ear.
He fingered the gap. “I wish Healing would regenerate lost tissue. But I’m okay, man.”
The two lovebirds hadn’t come up for air yet, so I grabbed Jude (who seemed enthralled by their embrace) and led him out the gate. “You need to find a nice girl, Jude.”
“If I find one, I hope she can hold her breath like
“Don’t be a perv.”
