The Apprenticeship of Julian St. Albans (35 page)

CHAPTER 23

Julian
floated, a tiny ball of himself in a great sea of not-himself, and the very
first thing he did was build a wall all around to keep the not-himself from
dissolving him the way he’d slowly integrated his friends’ magic. He made
himself like a bubble of oil in water, and it wasn’t difficult because the
magic around him felt as different from him as oil was from water. It was wild
and strange, and somewhere deep there seemed to be a personality of sorts.

Next
he got a sense of space. If deep was the direction of the personality, then
away must be shallow, and something urged him to go that way. Still, he was
curious why he was in this trap at all, and he sent a little tendril of
himself, thin as a new root, down toward the other that he sensed.

“Hello?”
Julian thought as much as said. “Are you the wish tree?”

“You’re
not my wisher,” said the tree, sounding old and weak and peevish. “He
never lets anyone else wish on me.”

“Did
you pull me in here, or was that him?” asked Julian, finding it easier to
‘talk’ as a little tendril of the tree connected with his own. He could feel a
little of the same personality as the old wish tree in the Temple, but sad and
weak and strange.

“This
silly trap is his, my greedy wisher. He thinks I’m dying because the magic
source went away.”
 

Julian
felt a tug in the other direction, and he guessed that they were trying to free
him from the outside. “How can I help you? I think they’re going to get me
out of the trap, if I can stay me long enough.”

“Make
a wish,” said the tree. “Let them all wish their paper wishes, that’s
what a wish tree lives on, you know. Sunshine and rain and wishes.”

A
flash of something went through the space they were in, like a school of silver
fish, there and gone again. “I don’t think he could talk to you the way I
can,” said Julian. “I’ll ask everyone to make a wish on you, and if
we can disarm the trap I’ll give you some energy, too.”

“I
could just take it, the trap lets me,” said the tree, the voice a cackle
like bark cracking and creaking in a high wind.

Julian
shivered. “If you do that, I can’t ask them to wish on you.” He
paused and then chuckled to himself. “I wish you would just let me go, so
we can all help you.”

A
little pulse of his himself-ness went down the thread between them, root to
root, but it didn’t feel like it was being stolen — instead it reminded him of
the magic he’d given to the other wish-tree, and the magic he’d put in
everyone’s wishes as he’d folded them for Horace. The space around him gave a
great sigh and he felt himself washed toward the shallowness, their thread
breaking as he emerged into a bright light, blinking, held in Alex’s arms and
looking up at his worried face.

“How,”
said Julian, and he had to clear his throat and accept a sip of tea before he
could actually ask. “How long?”

“Only
a few minutes,” said Alex, “but you were white as a sheet, and hardly
breathing at all.”

“Soul-trap,”
said Julian, after another sip of tea. “The tree — make wishes.”
Alex kissed his forehead and a wash of warmth went through Julian. “The
tree needs wishes to survive,” he said, and saw comprehension dawn on Alex’s
face.

“Of
course, it fed off the wish-magic, not the source,” said Alex. He turned
to the people crowding around them and found Lapointe. “Get everyone here
to make a wish on the tree, that’s why it’s dying, no one wishes on it anymore
except Fenway.”

“I
wonder who used to wish on it,” said Julian, snuggled up with Alex and his
mug of tea and feeling, if not restored, then quite a bit better. “It’s
been fenced off here for years.”

“It
was in the fairy garden,” said Alex. “I remember it, at the very
back. They only let people do paper wishes and sometimes flowers, but not coins
after it got damaged by some idiot.”

“I
wonder how that got started, the trees don’t like it,” said Julian.
“The coins, I mean. Neither tree liked them, that I talked to.”

“It’s
a sacrifice,” said James. “You have to give up something for the wish
to work, usually. That’s why everyone pays, at the Temple.”

Jacques
looked up. “That’s probably also why it was dying, if he wasn’t paying.
We’ll have to figure out what to sacrifice, since it won’t be coins.”

“What
if we folded the coins into little paper pouches with the wishes?” said
Julian. “A pound apiece, I can make them,” he saw the faces start to
look a bit worried and chuckled, “or Alex knows how, and Horace can take
them up to the top of the tree for us, where they won’t fall down until the
paper wears away. They just need a big loop of string.”

“I
thought the Crown owned the land from that fairy garden?” said Lapointe,
but she was already digging through her pockets for a pound coin.

“Maybe
they sold off the land,” said one of the officers with a shrug.

They
handed around blank evidence slips for paper, and then each one was given off
to Alex to be folded around the coin and tied with string someone dug up out of
their trunk. Julian was grudgingly allowed to talk to the tree once they
determined that the trap had not reset once sprung, and it promised to be kind
to Horace while the wishes were delivered. Horace took each folded wish to its
owner for a last moment of real wishing, and then flew them up into the high,
thin branches of the tree, spreading them out wherever there was a sign of life
among the deadwood.

Julian
checked it after everyone was done; even Jones sent a wish out from where he
was staying with the car, along with the officers guarding the perimeter, so
all told almost two dozen new wishes adorned the old tree. A hand against the
bark gave him a pulse of new life, and gratitude from the tree.

“You
should look into the property lines,” said Julian, as they were being
bundled back into the car. “He might have bought the land, or he might
have conveniently rebuilt the fence when no one was looking to put the tree in
his own garden.”

Lapointe
promised to do so, and also promised to keep officers on the apartment until
they found a way to deal with Fenway’s strange brand of magic.
 

The
ride back was quieter, with Julian curled up between Alex and James, petting
Horace and thinking about the wish tree. “We can keep wishing on the tree
while they work things out,” said Julian. “If people come by the
flat, we can send the wishes with Horace.”

“We
certainly have enough people in and out for that,” said Alex, amused.
“I’ll dig up some paper and string, and we’ll keep using your idea of
coins in the wishes for now.”

“You
could collect the coins,” said Jacques thoughtfully. “Donate them to
a charity, or save them up if the land has to be bought at auction.”

“Later,”
said Julian with a nod. “For now, this works. We’ll figure out what sort
of donation works with the magic later.”

They
all agreed that later sounded just about perfect.

CHAPTER 24

The
wish tree proved to be the key to Fenway’s madness, and his subsequent ranting
included a confession to all three murders. The rest of his plan they pieced
together from things found in the house, which it turned out wasn’t even his —
it was in a legal deadlock between owner and developer, and Fenway had moved in
during the confusion and annexed the tree with no one the wiser. Police came by
daily to pay for Horace to take wishes to the tree for them, sometimes with
wishes from friends and family, and from all reports the tree was already
showing signs of recovery.

The
trap-spell on the wish tree had been Fenway’s final effort to bind Julian and
Julian’s power to his land. The doll had snuck through Alex’s wards by tying
itself to Julian’s power rather than his person, but the trap had been much
worse — it had gone after his soul. It was evident that Fenway had no idea how
wish trees really worked, and only a very loose grasp on magical theory itself,
and had stumbled onto his plan by assembling things he’d heard through his
work. From an illegal sacrifice they’d stopped before it started, to
Duckworth’s obsession with Julian, he’d stuck together fact with fiction until
he’d come up with his mad plan.

Fenway
was now in a very specialised institution, fixed with magic-dampening cuffs on
every limb and watched over at all hours by his keepers. He’d been remanded
yesterday by a judge, and so today it was time for the Guardians to go. Jones
had been sent home days ago, grateful to be headed back to his own bed.

“I’ll
miss you guys,” said Julian, hovering as James packed up their things. His
knee was already healed, thanks to potions, rest, and a number of visits to the
hospital for further healing.

“We’ll
visit,” assured Jacques from the kitchen, where he and Alys were preparing
a parting feast.

“And
you’ll visit us,” added James, working efficiently to get everything
they’d brought packed down into neat bags and bundles.

“We
have to, or Father Stephen will send you to hunt us down,” said Alex, from
where he was lounging rather sulkily on the couch. “I like not being in
danger, but I hate it when you leave.”

“You
have Alys now,” said Jacques. “You can’t complain about feeding
yourself this time.”

“And
you have privacy now,” said James wryly. “No more worrying about us
listening in.”

“Oh,”
said Julian sweetly, “we didn’t worry.”

James
hit him with a pillow.

CHAPTER 25

“It’s
time for your surprise, I think,” said Nat, strolling out of the kitchen
just after the front door closed on James and Jacques.

“Is
it ready?” said Alex, grinning like a loon.

“What
surprise? And what do you know about it?” said Julian, looking from Nat to
Alex.

“You’ll
see,” said Nat, and he clapped his hands. Wood began to stream out of the
laundry room, rather more than Julian thought would have fit in the first
place, and it set itself up to the left of the fireplace, around the window. The
pieces moved and shifted until there were two tall, deep bookshelves flanking
the window. A cushioned bench built itself between them, making it into a
proper window seat with a deep green velvet cover that went beautifully with
the dark wood. Everything was finished to match the rest of the room, and
decorated with carved patterns of vines and leaves.

“Oh,”
said Julian, walking toward it when he felt the magic settling. “This is
for me?”

Alex
came up behind him and snuggled close. “You always say it’s not the same,
reading without a window seat.”

“And
yon bookshelf’s overflowing,” said Nat, gesturing to the small shelf along
the other wall. “This’ll give ye room to grow.”

“It’s
perfect,” said Julian, lifting the seat to look at the compartment under
it, and then putting it down and curling up, looking out over the city from his
new perch. “Really perfect.”

Alex
gathered up Julian’s feet and sat with them in his lap, crowding the little
bench — not that Julian minded just now. “We thought you might put a
window box outside here, so you can have more fairy visitors while you
read.”

“We’ll
just leave you two to your thanking now,” said Alys, tugging Nat back into
their laundry room hideaway and firmly shutting the door.

“Thank
you,” said Julian to Alex with a grin, leaning in for a kiss.

Alex
met him halfway, and they just kissed like that for a good long time before
they parted. “Celebrate having privacy again?” he offered, breathless
and grinning.

“Oh,
yeah,” said Julian, kissing him again. He ducked another to get up and
lead a laughing Alex backward into the bedroom, everything forgotten but the
joy of being together again, and safe.

Julian
shed his clothes on his way to the bed, sliding under the covers and holding
them up so Alex could join him. Nothing but the soft glow of nightlight-runes
along the baseboards lit the room, leaving them in a warm, close semidarkness.
It felt all the more thrilling, knowing there was no one outside the closed
door trying not to listen in. Alex gathered Julian close, kissing and petting
him until he was purring, sure hands moving over his body, making him forget
anything but being there in Alex’s arms.

“I
want to be inside you,” whispered Alex, low and teasing in his ear.
“Can I?”

“Please,”
said Julian, the word coming out on a whimper that might have embarrassed him
if it hadn’t made Alex growl possessively.

“Oh,
yes,” said Alex, kissing down his neck, nipping at his sensitive throat.
“My Julian.”

His
big hands slipped down to Julian’s narrow hips, rolling Julian onto his back,
and Julian obediently spread for him, inviting Alex into his arms and his body.
Alex followed the motion, letting his weight settle atop Julian for a few
comforting moments, warm and strong and solid above him. Their kisses were slow
and sensual, while Alex’s hands roamed Julian’s body all over again, Alex’s magic
caressing his skin and making Julian writhe beneath him. Julian buried his
hands in Alex’s soft curls, unable to muster up enough thought to put them
anywhere else, but Alex didn’t seem to mind. He was humming with satisfaction
as Julian arched and whimpered at his touches. Their kisses tasted of ozone and
need, power flowing between them, sparking along Julian’s nerves and lighting
him up inside.

Alex’s
mouth moved from Julian’s kiss-bruised lips, back down his throat and further,
licking and biting at his collarbones, kissing down his sternum, visiting each
nipple with singleminded attention. Julian’s fingers stayed tangled in Alex’s
hair as he slipped down further, nuzzling at Julian’s flat belly and giving his
cock a passing caress with cheeks and lips and magic, then going further still
to find Julian’s needy entrance. Julian cried out as Alex’s tongue flicked out
to tease him, then pleasure him. Julian’s voice sounded wonderfully loud in the
small, still room as he said Alex’s name over and over.

Alex
kept up his ministrations until Julian couldn’t even form both syllables, then
slipped a pair of slick fingers into him while that energy-laced mouth sucked
at each tender bollock in turn. Julian would have begged if he’d had the
breath, but Alex kept stealing it with his deft touches, playing Julian’s body
with as much skill as any instrument to get the sounds he most wanted to hear.
Julian felt as if Alex had awakened every nerve in his body to pleasure, opened
him wide and made him so wonderfully sensitive that there was nothing in the
world but Alex. Julian drowned in the feel of his hands, his mouth, his body
and the weight of him in the bed, the sound of his breath and the hum of his
magic.

Alex’s
fingers left him, mouth lifting, breaking the circuit for a moment, letting
Julian find his breath and his centre. “Are you ready for me, love?”

Julian
huffed out a needy laugh that was half moan. “Sooo ready, my love,”
he answered, tugging Alex up for greedy kisses, feeling the spark as their
bodies reconnected.

The
spark became a complete circuit as Alex slid into him, the heat and solidity of
his body accompanied by the feel of his magic, and all the love and desire that
threaded through it. Julian shivered, wrapping his legs around Alex, pouring his
own magic back into their kiss. A small part of him wondered what Alex heard
when they did this, what motif his love and need added to the melody of his
magic. The rest of him was entirely occupied with the feel of it, the
information he got secondary to the sensation of being made love to, of being
Alex’s.

Their
hands and bodies moved together, guided by familiarity, by desire, and by
magic, until they found their peak together, one sparking off the other until
there was nothing but white-gold pleasure. Julian opened his eyes a few moments
later and gasped, seeing the ceiling lit with motes of light like stars above
them. Alex twisted around, then laughed. “I wonder if they’ll stay,”
he said, turning back to kiss Julian again.

Julian
mmed contentedly. “We can always make more.”