Luke studied the section of the schematic he could see and pressed the buzzer for his aide, Bishop Carstairs.  "Where's Tuck?" he asked when Bishop stuck his head in the door.  "I want him." When Tuck knocked, Luke wheeled his chair back from the desk and waved him over.  "What do you think?"

Tuck read the ad and then studied the plan.  He scratched his balding head absently.  "Well, it might work," was all he was willing to commit to.  "Have to see the whole thing to know for sure, of course.  Looks bloody funny, that's for sure."

Luke wasn't interested in the technical details at this point.  A maybe made it worth checking out further.  "See if your geeks can trace the ad, who posted it and from where," he said to Tuck.  "And send Emma in on your way by."

Luke printed out the ad and the sample and clipped them together.  He handed them to Emma when she took a seat.  "A little job for your friend.  We'd like him to buy those for us."

"What?" Emma said.  "He's going to want to know why?"

Luke grinned.  "Because we'll want his friends to help us test it out when it's built."

"So?"

"Plus, I'm guessing his lordship's got a rep and so him as a buyer will be less remarkable than one of us."

Emma made a face and left, stuffing the ad and sample into a manila envelope before calling Ian's cell phone.  He didn't answer so she left a message and went back to work sorting through the tabloids.

It was a few hours later when he returned her call.  He sounded relaxed and friendly.  When she said she wished to see him he suggested she come by his place for tea. She agreed and rang off.  So as the early winter dusk in London darkened to night she rang the bell and smiled at Edwards when he answered the door.

"Good to see you, Miss. Right this way," Edwards said.  He took her coat and gloves and showed her to Ian's study.

It was more intimate and casual than his drawing room. He himself looked more casual than she was used to seeing him - at least when he was out of bed. He was sitting at his desk frowning over something he was studying, and making notes about. His hair was disheveled and he wore jeans and a sweatshirt. But when she walked through the door as Edwards held it, he threw his pen down and smiled at her.  "I'm delighted to see you. I could use a break and seeing you looking so lovely is a welcome distraction.  Please. Sit."

"Thank you," she said, settling near the fire.  "It's nice to see you too.  How have you been?"

He left his desk behind and walked over to sit near her. "I've been busy.  You look as if you've been doing well.  Things going well for Blackheath, too?"

She laughed and rolled her eyes.  "You all were such a coup it's still reverberating through the inner sanctums of Whitehall.  But the downside is that now we're expected to do it again."  She relaxed back on the sofa.  "I see you survived the Americans.  No noticeable bruises, just the disheveled hair of man who's been thinking hard."

He grinned. "Are you referring to the Zoo or to the Refuge?  They both can be a bit of a trial.  So," he said as Edwards brought in a tray with tea and pastries, "is this a social visit or business?"

"I have business but won't deny the idea of a social visit is very appealing."  She accepted the cup of tea and stirred it before taking a sip.  "Ah, nothing like it.  You've no idea how good this tea tastes."

"Tell me," he said.

She pulled out the envelope and passed it to him, watching him closely as he examined the ad and then the schematic, his expression becoming thoughtful.  "We'd be grateful if you would buy that for us," she explained.

He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes. "And the reason you wish to purchase such a thing?"

A smile spread slowly across her face and her eyes danced.  "To see if it works.  You know how guys are with toys.  And the tech guys want to play with it."

"Considering that this thing purports to be able to disable the abilities of friends of mine, I'm just a tad suspicious of Blackheath's motives," he replied.

"Yes, I can see where you would be," she said, becoming serious.  "I'm not sure I have a rebuttal for it either except to say we like your friends abilities and that thing also purports to enhance them."

He poured more tea for the both of them, giving himself time to think.  Once she'd sipped her tea and he'd had a sip of his own he said, "All right. I'll see what I can do.I can only guess that you assume my reputation will make me a likely buyer of such a thing. If so, you are probably quite right."

"Thank you," she said.  "So you like toys too?" she asked.

His lips twitched. "I think of them as research tools.  But I suppose for the purposes of this conversation the answer is yes. Are you busy this evening?"

"Not at all," she said.  "Have you a suggestion?"

"A dinner at a romantic restaurant.  And afterwards, who knows."

"It sounds delightful," Emma said.  Then she considered her attire.  She was dressed for a day at the office in a power suit.  Perfectly appropriate for any number of venues but for romantic it lacked a certain something.  "I shall have to change first, I think."

"Of course. I'll pick you up, say around 8?"

"Perfect," she said and finished her tea and rose.  "If anything else turns up on the other I'll let you know."

"But not tonight," he said as he stood and took her into his arms. "Tonight we speak of nothing to do with Blackheath."oh

"Nothing at all," she agreed, lifting her face for his kiss.

Ian Blakesley swirled his brandy, staring morosely into the hearth fire in his study. What had possessed him, he wondered, given how badly the last one had turned out. He quite often, despite the fact she'd died in 1882, saw Margarite Lefebrve in his nightmares. Could still feel her hand on his body, see the laugh that was both sensual and flip, her pale gray eyes, the deep red of her hair, the softness of her skin against his, the raw sensuality she exhibited in bed. The power of her magic when it mingled with his, the power of... He threw his brandy snifter into the fire and cursed himself. This was getting him nowhere.

He'd said yes, after all. Why was irrelevant and meant nothing at this point. At least this time it hadn't been spurred on by his own loneliness. This time it wasn't about a lover who could also be a partner in his researches, it was strictly an extremely talented newcomer who needed to be trained, needed to be.. to be mentored, just so she did not end up like Margarite. And, he swore, he'd not use this one the way he had Margarite.

Then Edwards was knocking on the study door announcing her arrival.  He erased the emotion from his face, calmed his aura and turned as she was shown into the room.

"Good afternoon," she said as Edwards closed the door, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.  "I still can't get used to being announced."

He looked her up and down for a moment, and then cursed himself as he realized he'd made her uncomfortable. The subject of the lessons at this point were uncomfortable enough.  "I'm sorry," he said, leaving off just exactly what he was sorry for as he wasn't quite certain himself. "Please, take a seat, Hermione.  Would you like a drink?"

She sat down before saying, "yes, I think I would, thank you."

He made her a whisky and soda as he knew she liked it and delivered it to her which made her blush.  He refrained from saying anything instead walking over to take the seat behind his desk.

"So we've covered most of the methods available to magicians of whatever style to draw down, focus and enhance power. Utilizing natural resources, your own personal energies, linking minds with others. An additional way, think of it as a more complete linking of minds with others, is through sexual magic. I've several texts for you to peruse and some basic experiments you can do on your own. Self-stimulation will generate energies you can use to power a spell and you should attempt it so that you will understand what it is I'm talking about.. But it is the synergy, the mingling and combination of the orgasms of both partners, at the same instant, that gives us the biggest power boost when done willingly by both partners. Granted there is some power gained through rape or other unwilling sex acts, but by far the way to generate the most power is through two, or more, people generating sexual energy and releasing it into a spell at the point of mutual orgasm."

"I've read a little about it," she said.  "Clearly the issue of timing is paramount."

"Even more so is the need to hold back the urge to orgasm until both are at the maximum need. It is a delicate thing and takes practice. Thus most magicians who utilize sexual magic are long-time partners who understand one another at a deeper level than just lust. There is also the issue of complete trust. I myself have some difficulties with that level in this type of magic. It is a high bar to reach and may never be completely available to you at all. Or, even if it is available, you may well prefer other methods if they suit your morality and preferences better. Still, it is something you should learn about so that if other methods are unavailable you can use it."

She nodded.  "So it's not a methodology you tend to research or even use much?"

"It requires agreement and commitment on both sides. I have had few apprentices. I performed it, and it was extremely useful, with my last apprentice. I have no wish to pressure you to do this if you feel you are not ready."

"Yes well," she said, "I don't feel pressured in the least.  I'm just wondering how comfortable you are?"

He smiled for the first time that night. "I thank you for that. I confess to worrying about the modern ideas regarding sexual harassment and whether doing this will lessen our current levels of trust."

She grinned.  "Creating an atmosphere where I feel my job hinges on sex?  Hardly.  I'm the one, after all, who tells you all the dirty jokes I hear where I really work.  I have no sense of exploitation."

He grinned. "Good. So, do you wish to attempt something this evening? Or do you prefer to study it first, perhaps try it alone, or even have me use magic to show it to you so you will be less surprised by the real thing?"

She took a moment to think it through and then asked him, "Well, given our relationship and what you know from your own experience what sort of outcome are we likely to obtain?  Now as opposed to later?  Since I'm not sure that the tricky bits at this point are things that will be resolved by study."

"I expect little the first time. Mostly it would be to acquaint you with the changes you will experience, and the magnitude of power engendered. You know how to create a spell and set it aside, and how to activate it with a word. The trick with sexual magic is not to let yourself forget that the sex you are enjoying is done to a purpose. That's the real trick, to stay focused, and learn when and how to identify the optimum second to release the spell."

"Yes, that's what I was thinking and all things considered expecting little the first time is probably a very good thing.  So," she said, "I see little point to waiting."

"All right. I'll give you a room. Do your usual preparations - physical cleansing, mental concentration,  clearing of cares and outside concerns.  Then I'll join you, we'll cast a circle and clear the energies, and then begin."

At her nod he lead her upstairs to a room and showed her the facilities. He smiled down at her. "Also, try not to laugh. Once we begin it shouldn't be a problem. Not because of my sexual prowess you understand but because you are trained to respond mentally to the trappings of magic.  When you are more proficient they can fall by the wayside. But as of now, they are the way to focus and prepare."

"Well that's a relief," she said smiling back at him.  "Now I can stop worrying about mine as well."

He laughed. "You'll do fine. I'll return in a half hour and we can begin. Wear your tau ritual robe. I'll have Edwards leave it by the door."

"Fine."

A half hour later, having done his own rituals for cleansing and mental preparations, and dressed in his own simple black tau robe he knocked on her door. At her soft 'come in' he entered.  He'd brought salt and candles.  He made a bed with the featherbed on the floor and the two of them encircled it with salt chanting the ritual words, calling the four watchtowers and lighting the candles. He didn't use such things these days normally, but for a teaching experience they worked well. They signalled the sacredness of the actions, the sanctity of the place. One didn't need to worship the Goddess or even the Moon, but one did need to believe in the connection to the cosmic All as that was where the energy they were about to call on came from.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye and saw her attention began to focus inward. She performed the movements and chanted the words and he was relieved to see it placed her in the trance-like state that was most conducive to what they were planning.

"Remove your robe and lie down," he said, clicking off the last of the lights, utilizing only the four candles burning.

When she'd made herself as comfortable as she was going to get he removed his own robe and lay beside her on the featherbed. "Close your eyes and feel my mind. Feel only my mind for now, see how I reach for power, see how I recognize the places of power, see how I weave the power and call it down to us."  He felt her mind meld with his and he began to touch her as he remained linked with her mind. "Yes," he said to her. "Feel the power of our light touch, feel the synergy of the sexual energies as they build."

Hermione floated on his words, responding to their direction automatically and then forced herself to focus on what they were doing, feeling the last of her self-consciousness slip away.  She used her trance-like state to halt the splintering of her awareness.  Instead she wove together the sensation and burgeoning of want emerging behind it into a thread that she anchored her intention to, that she could use as a structure to dress with the power they were calling forth, that was growing between them as pleasure and want did away with the physical spaces between them.

When he entered her he watched as the wash of want overtook her thinking processes. He touched her mind then, showing it how to set aside the need, focus the intention and yet allow her body to build toward a climax that took her breath away as it did so. He clearly saw that she'd never had sex like this before, that it was new and overpowering, and that it could be bewitching which was always the problem with such workings. It had an allure, and reached inside your body so far that it could easily become addictive. He set aside his fears for her and showed her what he could. They'd set several simple spells.  He always kept spells handy to enact with a word. One never knew when one might need such a thing. Now he showed her the spell he would fire up with their energies. He showed it to her, turning its diagram in his mind, linking her mind to his, even as his body's rhythm increased and she felt his body heading toward a climax. As he did so, he turned something on in her mind, a way to show her, a way to increase and power the climax she felt building.

His mind in hers, teaching her, showing her things was distracting and yet it wasn't. She used it, made it part of the fiber of her will, the thing she was using to be with and be detached from what she was experiencing physically at the same time, to hold her focus and control orgasm her body was clamoring for.  She suddenly understood what it felt like to be balanced on the razor's edge as she absorbed automatically the change he'd wrought in her mind and channeled the power it freed into the spell they'd created as he released it.  Then she was submerged in sensation and in the instant before she stopped thinking altogether she sent an apology winging through the ether to all the romance writers of the world whom she'd formerly condemned for raising unrealistic expectations in the minds of gullible women.

She felt his release even as her own consumed her. He was fully with her in that moment, the spell released now his focus was on her.  He reached to check on her emotions and she felt his mental smile at the slight cynicism in it. Then she had no brain for a bit as he brought her forward yet more, making her gasp and nearly scream. To see, that beyond where she thought she could stand no more, yet another plateau waited, painful in its demand and need yet the energies there were incredible, logarithmically greater than what she'd thought of as the full power they'd released. Then he finished his own climax and  let himself collapse in an exhausted heap beside her on the feather bed.

He was silent for a time as they both caught their breaths. "Ah, for the good old days when one could smoke," he finally said.

"Feel free," she said.  "I quite understand."

He laughed as he magicked them both back into their robes. "I'm told, although I have not experienced it myself, that if you fall in love with a magician and do sexual magic with your lover that the energy is even greater.  It's a rather daunting thought, don't you think?"

"Very," she said, shifting a little so she could sit up.  "Have you ever thought about it in light of the sorts of permanent mental bonds the Awakened form between committed lovers?"

"Yes, I have. I've thought it might be similar in how it connects. But so far as I know they don't utilize the bonds for any sort of workings. I'll have to build up my courage and ask Stephen if they've tried it."  Then he looked over at her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said simply, meeting his eyes without shyness.  "Thank you for asking."

"So, let's open the circle, release the last of the energy here with us, ritually cleanse the room and call it a night."

She nodded and stood with a single fluid motion and turned her attention to the tasks at hand.

He used the callbox just off the square to make the call.  When the call was answered he didn't waste time on pleasantries.  Hell it's not like he wanted to be mates with the bloke.  He just wanted his money.  What pissed him off was he wasn't supposed to be handling this part of the job.  He stole things, snooped around and did other skulduggery.  No matter who his antecedents were or the purpose of his House he left the meetings in dark alleys to other people.  Life was too short to screw around with that crap.  But who could plan on getting the flu and being sent to the A&E because your fever topped 103 degrees and you were getting delirious?

Well, he thought now that you asked the question it seemed to him you should plan for that stuff if you wanted to run an efficient operation but he wasn't going to get into that now.  Now he needed to set up the sale of the bloody thing and get back home where he had other business waiting for him.  So when the call was answered he ignored the politenesses and just said, "You won the prize.  Trafalgar Square by the phallic symbol, six o'clock tonight, cash only and no second chances.  I'll find you."  Then Aedan hung up the phone without waiting for a response and wondered over to the cafe where he could watch the phallic symbol or Nelson's Column as it was named for the tourists.  He'd looked up his buyer earlier and found a picture of him in the tabloids.  He shouldn't be hard to spot and his reputation made it almost beyond a certainty he wouldn't be playing games.

He had an hour to kill.  Thank God they touted this place the way they did.  At least there were lights on and the heritage cops kept the place relatively safe even after dark.  But that still didn't excuse the sludge they called coffee.  He spat it back into the cup and shoved it away loud enough to bring the waiter back over.  He sighed and ordered the tea like he should have done in the first place.  Any country that couldn't get Nescafe right for sure wouldn't get expresso right.

Edwards was used to cryptic messages for his employer so hardly batted an eyelash at this one. He simply turned on his heel once he'd hung up and headed up to Lord Avery's room to inform him as to this sudden meeting.

Ian, when he heard it, cursed colorfully. Something to do with sod. "All right. Thank you Edwards."  Ian finished his toilette, unhurried about it, then went downstairs to his study where he opened his safe and extracted the cash required. What a dullard the fellow was. Bank transfers were much more efficient.

So, at 6pm Ian, dressed in a tux as he was headed out, sauntered onto the square at Trafalgar and walked over to admire the rather oily looking water in the fountain.

Aedan watching from behind Nelson waited a few moments, scanning the area.  Then he walked up to Ian.  "Good evening your lordship.  Nice suit."

"Kind of you to say so. I've your money."

"And I've your plans," Aedan said, pulling out an envelope.

"Mind if I glance at them?" Ian said. "Feel free to check the pounds sterling to be certain it's legit." Ian took the envelope with the plans and ran an eye across several pages. "Nice to do business with you. I'll keep your firm in mind in the future."

Aedan grinned having checked the cash.  "We aim to please.  Later dude," he said before walking away.

Ian watched the man until he disappeared. He checked his watch, he was late. He zapped out, with the plans firmly in hand, to pick up Betty Jo.

She was glad Ian was late, having been running behind all day.  She opened the door and smiled.  "Your timing's perfect," she said before he could say anything.  "Any sooner and I'd have been running late."

"Then I'm delighted that an unexpected meeting delayed me," he replied just before he kissed her.

"Mmmm," she said.  "Very nice."

"Indeed. So, there is a private showing of the Islamic Middle East collection.  The Jameel Gallery at the V and A. I thought you might like to see that. Then afterwards a late supper?  I do need to stop by the house and drop something off there, though. It's valuable and I'd rather not have to worry about it."

"Sounds like fun," she said as he helped her with her coat.  She slipped her bag over her shoulder and her arm through his.  "All set."

He zapped them to his front stoop.  It was fully dark in London and overcast, the air thick with the dampness and chill peculiar to London winters.  She could smell the wet earth scents of the park across the street.  Betty Jo let go of his arm and took a step away so he could unlock the door.  His house was old, with the columned  stoop and heavy knocker on the door and the servants entrance to the side and underneath.  She suspected there was probably a coal chute somewhere as well though it would have been sealed.  She heard the tumblers fall at the same time she heard the scrape of a shoe and felt the air whoosh on her skin and saw the shapes.  Instinct and training took over.  Her gun was out and she was falling back behind the columns for cover as she called a warning to Ian.  She stepped back into someone and shoved her elbow hard into their stomach, hearing their grunt of surprise as she connected.  She whirled and followed through with a chop to throat that stunned him and left her off balance.  When she recovered she saw Ian going down and three men running away.  Betty Jo sighted and fired, dropping one and lending wings to the heels of the others.  Her own assailant had also fled.

She pocketed her pistol and dropped to her knees next to Ian who was struggling to sit up, holding the back of hishead.  "Are you alright?"

"Bloody hell," Ian was muttering as he struggled to get to his feet. "They got the ... Christ."  He paused then and looked at her. "Are you all right?"  Oh, bugger all, here come the squad cars already," he added as sirens wailed. "Oh, hell. You shot one?"

"Yes," she said, helping him up.  "I'm fine.  How are you?"

"My pride is wounded as is my bum. Otherwise... I'd best call for some cleanup. We'll never get it sorted what with British laws on weapons."  He made a quick phone call and said into the cell phone. "I need you. Now. Weapons fire, and they got the bloody package."  He hung up and turned to Betty Jo. "Give me your gun."  When she hesitated, he added, "I'll make it disappear until the coppers leave."

She handed it to him.  'I take it I'm not identifying myself and when they ask for my passport I'm clueless?"'

"Look sexy as hell, no real stretch for you there," he replied grinning, then walked down stairs to the curb where he met the constables rushing out of the car. "Hullo. Sorry. No one hurt. I thought I might have heard a gunshot, but it couldn't possibly be now could it. I'm Adrian Blakesley, Lord Avery, don't you know. My friend and I were just going out to dinner and a movie, you see, when someone jumped me at my own doorstep! What is becoming of London, I want to know, that a man is not safe on New Park Lane!"  He glared at the sergeant who'd just exited another car.

Betty Jo just smiled at them and looked like a distressed and helpless, but thoroughly adorable kitten in serious need of someone to stroke her fur.  She was distracting the sergeant when another car pulled up and parked in the middle of the street.  Betty Jo watched with disguised interest as its occupant walked up to Ian, ignoring the expostulations of the uniforms as if they didn't even exist.

"Ah Mr. Arrington. Delighted to see you. If you'll explain to these nice gentlemen that the lady and I are late for an engagement and that nothing was taken and all is well..."

Luke Arrington turned to the sergeant who'd torn himself away from Betty Jo and showed him his ID.  "Everything is fine here, officer.  I think you can leave the rest of it to me, don't you?"

The sergeant squinted in the poor light and then shined his flashlight on Luke's credentials.  "Oh," he said as he absorbed them.  "Righto," he said.  "What ever you'd like sir, I'm sure."

"Yes, we'd very much like to get on with our evening, Sergeant. You men have been so very helpful, I'll be certain to add a nice check to the next fundraiser. Go on now, take care of the important stuff you chappies have to deal with. We're all fine here," Ian added, channeling Han Solo there for a second.

The cops, not quite pleased with the arrangement but admitting that when someone with credentials like Luke Arrington's said to go on all was fine he'd handle it, they decided to do just that. So they looked longingly a moment at some blood spatter down the street a ways but dutifully piled into their cars and pulled off merrily.

"They stole the plans," Ian hissed, the moment the cops were one. "They were waiting for me here, so I suspect they were in with the bloody wretch I got them off of. I'm going to turn the little bastard inside out."

"First, you two are alright?  Not hurt?" Luke said.

"Yes, we're fine thanks."

"So what exactly happened?" Luke asked.  "And where's the body?"

Ian opened his mouth and then just shut it. "Come inside. The body is in the basement, of course," he said once they were safely inside. "This way. Perhaps you'll recognize him."  Ian led the way downstairs. Edwards hurried off to make tea, that universal cure for the English.

"We haven't met," Luke said to Betty Jo.  "I'm Luke Arrington."

Betty Jo smiled.  "Ah'm Betty Jo DuBois," she said, her southern accent turned on full.  "Ah'm pleased to meet ya'll, honey, ah'm sure.  But don't ya'll mind me.  Ah'm sure ya'll don't need me getting in the way of ya'll's business," she added, a hint of the overwhelmed air head in her voice.

Luke blinked at the dazzling smile that accompanied the exchange of names and resisted the urge to pat her back soothingly.

Ian did his best to stifle a grin. "Darling, perhaps you should wait upstairs? You won't faint at the sight of blood now, will you?"

"Oh no, sugah," she said.  "Ah used to help daddy after he'd been huntin', but ah sure don't want ta be in ya'lls way now, so whatever ya'll think is best."

"Come on down then, darling. Just stand aside and out of the way," Ian replied, rolling his eyes at her when Arrington was busy staring at the body.  The to Arrington, "Do you know him?" with a frown.

Luke took a look and then shook his head.  "Never saw him before.  I assume you'd like me to take him off your hands?" he asked, checking the body for identification.  "Ah, an American," he said, "according to this.  One John Dennis and a resident of New Jersey."

"Indeed. I'd greatly appreciate you removing him from my basement and from my sight. Now why would an American be attacking me," Ian added thoughtfully, sharing a quick glance with Betty Jo.

"No idea.  You said the plans were stolen also?" Luke said, pulling out his cellphone.

"Yes, they had to have known I still was carrying them. I'd only picked them up within the hour."

"Someone's on the way," Luke said, hanging up the phone.  "I'm done here if you'd like to go upstairs." He looked at Betty Jo as he spoke.  "Not the sort of thing a lady should have to look at."

She gave him a grateful smile and allowed Ian to steer her towards the stairs, his hand at the small of her back.  "Ya'll are just too sweet for words, thinking about little ole me at a time like this.  Ah sure do appreciate it."

Ian, since Arrington wasn't looking, pinched her butt on that one.

Edwards had tea ready in the drawing room and Ian poured each of them a serving. "Well, darling, I'm afraid the showing is out. A late dinner might still work, if you feel up to eating after these regrettable  happenings."

She sipped the tea gratefully and opened her eyes wide at him.  "Ah'm sure that will be fine,  sweetie.  Ah just don't know what ah'd do without ya'll.  This is just such a shock to mah nerves, ah can't tell ya'll.  Ah've never before been involved in such a thing.  Ah just can't imagine what mama's gonna say when ah tell her but she'll be so comforted to know ya'll were so thoughtful.  Real gentlemen."

There was a knock on the drawing room door, saving Ian from spewing tea. He swallowed then called out," Yes?"

Edwards stuck his head through the door.  "Mr. Arrington's men have arrived sir. And Mr. Arrington, they request a word with you."

Arrington set his cup down and followed Edwards out the door.  Betty Jo watched him leave and then looked at Ian.  "You know when they run that bullet it'll come back to my gun and then to me.  But ah'm sure ya'll know best what ta do."

"Not a problem. I removed the bullet magically. They can search high and low for it, but won't find it. Want it back? I thought if I magicked the body off totally Arrington might be a bit more suspicious."

"Ah just knew ah could depend on you, sugah.  Ya'll are just too smart for words," she said, her eyes dancing.

He laughed. "No, quite a bit of experience hiding our activities from the authorities actually. And thank you for not asking about what it is they stole."

"Mah pleasure, ah'm sure honey."  She sipped some more tea regarding him calmly from over the rim of her cup.  "I suppose," she said, "I should apologize for ruining our evening by killing the man."

"Alas that you didn't hit the one with the plans," he replied with a sigh. "Now I'll have to get them back. I paid a pretty penny for them and somehow I doubt the people for whom I bought them will reimburse me.  Besides, I'm rather annoyed that someone felt I was such a rube. Despite the fact that apparently I was."

"I doubt if they actually thought that or if you are since they felt compelled to send four men to handle it."  She finished her tea and set the cup aside.  "I'd be glad to help you find them if I can.  New Jersey's a bit different from London."

"Yes, I dare say it is. I'd be most appreciative for the help." And then Luke Arrington was walking back into the room. "All sorted?" Ian asked him.

Luke nodded.  "They're taking him away now.  As for the plans, we'd like to try to trace them, if it's at all possible."

"Yes, of course. I've already enlisted some help with that," Ian replied. "I'll keep you informed."

Luke nodded and headed for the door where Edwards was waiting.  "I'll send along anything we find out from the body."  He smiled at Betty Jo.  "It was truly a pleasure meeting you, Miss DuBois."

"Aren't ya'll just the nicest thing for saying so," she said, her smile turned up on high.

"Yes," Luke said, clearing his throat.  "Well, good night then."

"Good evening, Arrington. Thank you for the assistance," Ian said as he stood to shake Luke's hand. He walked him out to the front door and saw him off.  Then he rejoined Betty Jo. "Bloody hell, I hate it when my plans are altered.  I'd looked forward to our evening."

"The evening's not over," she said.  "Far from it, in fact.  May I have a drink now that he's gone, do you think?  I think I'd find it...helpful."

"Of course. Didn't want to entice the fellow to stay with good liquor, don't you know," Ian said with grin, making Betty Jo her favorite drink.  "Still want something to eat?  We can go out, or I'll beg Edwards to make us something."

She tucked her legs under her on the sofa.  "Thanks.  Let's not go out if you wouldn't mind.  Unless Edwards would quit on you."

"Oh, he'll whine but he likes you. He'll feed you."  Ian walked out to go do his pleading and returned a few minutes later looking none the worse for wear. "So," he said as he took a seat beside her. "Have you shot to death many people?  Are you all right, really?"

She shook her head.  "I've only fired at someone a few times.  This is...he was...actually the first.  So I don't really know yet.  If this were work...they have all these procedures when this happens, that sort of ease you past it, you know."

He wrapped an arm round her and pulled her close.  "I'm so sorry, Betty Jo. All I can say is that I'm glad you did what you did, and that you are all right, or at least weren't hurt."

She leaned into the warmth of him and let out a sigh.  "You've nothing to be sorry about.  I'm just glad you weren't hurt, that I was here.  I'd hate it if something happened to you."

"Would you?" he murmured softly.  Edwards stuck his head into the room after a soft knock and Ian just nodded at him. "Dinner. I gather he was able to get something together for us. Come. Let's get some food into you and then, we can sit by the fire and you can fall asleep in my arms."

She let him help her up and followed him to the dining room.  "So uhm, you've a lot of experience with sort of thing?  Or at least with keeping the authorities at bay?"

"Indeed," he replied once he'd seated her at the dining room table. Edwards was ladling out a soup that smelled quite wonderful.  "I lived in a far more brutal time, of course, and death was more common, at least as things stand in England at that moment. I've been in wars where things got quite brutal. When I first met Trevor Raine as he was called then, he was quite convinced I was a serial murderer."

She smiled her thanks at Edwards for the soup and waited while he served Ian. "Really?  Trevor doesn't strike me as they type to get that sort of thing wrong so I gather he had help thinking that?"

Ian shrugged. "I was the only magician he knew of in London capable of the crimes, and I was nearby. And, I was hiding something, he well knew. I don't blame him. We became friends afterwards. At the time I had no friends. I was a good deal more circumspect at the time, and was rather angry and hostile."

"How did you find out you were a magician?  Or did you always know?"

He frowned, looking down at his soup. "I had an accident some time before Adele was born. A hunting accident. I was nearly killed, but luckily I have a hard head. However, I lost all memory of my life before then. All I knew was that a great many people hated me, and I was titled and quite wealthy. I discovered I had magical abilities only after I found a hidden workshop and library in my country house. I had to relearn what I'd known before. So, I've no idea if I knew from birth, or even if I was born magical. Or who my parents were beyond what I've found in books regarding my title and lineage."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry.  The soup is lovely."

"It is. Edwards is magical in his own right." The subject of the sentence was coming in with the next course.

"I beg pardon, but could not produce fresh fish at such short notice. However, I think you'll find the chicken to your liking."

"I quite understand, Edwards. We're delighted to take what we can get, especially as I now recall I'd given you the evening off."

Edwards smiled. "Quite all right sir.  Not to worry."

"Thank you for doing this Edwards.  It was my fault, spoiling your evening," Betty Jo said as he set a plate in front of her.  "It looks wonderful."

"Miss DuBois, it is my pleasure, I assure you."  Edwards bowed and withdrew.

"The cook will kill him in the morning. Actually, he's probably enjoying making a mess of her oh so neat kitchen. How are you doing? Your color looks better."

"Better," she said.  "The food's helping.  So how do you plan to start tracing the plans?"

"I've a few ideas. I'll begin in the morning. Magical methods should give us a ballpark place to begin looking."

"Will I get to watch?" she asked, a smile showing.

"I've never had the feeling you were interested in magical esoterica. But certainly, if you'd like. Does that mean you'll spend the night?"

Her smile grew.  "Of course.  I'm looking forward to the falling asleep in your arms part, after the in front of the fire part." His smile made it clear he was delighted.

"I never really thought you wanted to talk about your work when we were together.  So I never asked, but I find the subject intriguing."

"Well, tomorrow I'll take you by the Rose and Cross then. I do most of my work there. I'll try to do the spellwork to find the plans there.  You are welcome to watch."  He helped her up and they left Edwards to do the clearing up, withdrawing to the drawing room and the fire that was cheerily burning there. He poured them both brandies. And they took seats before the fire, their feet stretched out toward the warmth.  He wrapped an arm around her.

She relaxed against him.  "This is nice," she said, rubbing her foot against his.  "Can you do a spell so I can stay here like this until sometime next spring?"

"Hmmm. Don't tempt me," he replied kissing the top of her head. "I love how your hair smells."

"Pantene Pro V," she said.  "I'll have to write and let them know you like it.  Maybe they'll make an ad out of it and we'll get famous."

He made a face. "You're laughing at me."

"I am not," she said, indignant.  "I never laugh at you.  I'm laughing at my shampoo.  I like that you like the way it smells.  Just like I like it when you like the way I look or something."

"Ah well then, I shan't take offense." He kissed her instead.

"Good," she said moving closer to him, spearing her fingers into his hair and kissing him back.  His hands pulled her closer still and then began rubbing her back feeling the bones of her spine, then moving downward toward her waist.  His lips drifted away from her lips to kiss her neck and then the hollow of her neck.  She arched her head back against the sofa, wordlessly encouraging him while she undid his tie and began to work on his buttons.  She spread the sides of it wide, moving her hands on the warmth of his skin with a sound of delight, her fingers combing through his chest hair and tracing the bands of muscles, reveling in the definition and the hardness.

He undid her blouse buttons, kissing the flesh as it was revealed and managed her bra expertly. He took first one nipple into his mouth teasing it erect and then moved to the other. His other hand was making its way upward between her thighs.  "Shall we," he said, when he had a mouth free, "move to the bedroom, or would you like to stay here?"

"Stay here," she said, her fingers teasing his nipples.  She bent her head and drew her tongue across one, swirling around it.  "The fire's too nice."

He chuckled and zapped off the rest of their clothes. He lay her down and gave her his full attention, pleasuring her with tongue and fingers and and finally he entered her when she was gasping for more.

A long time later she shifted in his arms and snuggled closer, pressing a kiss to his chest and making a sound of content.

"Hmmm?" he asked. When she opened her eyes she realized he'd been staring into the fire.  But as she stirred his eyes swung around to regard her and she liked what she saw in them.

"Nothing," she said, absently stroking his arm.  "Just happy noises."

"I'm very glad to hear it. Are you cold?" he asked. Taking a throw from the nearby couch and wrapping it tenderly around her. "There."

"Thanks," she said and settled more comfortably against him, her head pillowed on his chest and let the silence settle over them, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire and the sound of his breathing, a deep and even counterpoint to the slow and resonant beat of his heart in her ear.  Finally she fell asleep in his arms.

When she woke the next morning they were in his bed and she vaguely remembered him carrying her upstairs and putting her to bed.  She had clearer memories of waking to the drift of his hands and mouth across her skin sometime near dawn.  She smiled and stretched, burrowing deeper into the bed for a moment and turned her head to look at him, stirring awake beside her.

"Good morning. Shall I ring for tea?  We've a busy day ahead of us, I'm afraid."

"Please," she said, brushing her lips across his before heading for the bathroom and grabbing one of his shirts on the way. "You're corrupting me you know.  Now it's just tea for breakfast.  No coffee and I don't miss it."

"Hah!" he replied with a grin. When she emerged from the bathroom he had a tray ready with fresh pastries and the tea on the small table by the window. He was sitting there wrapped in his robe, scratching notes onto a bit of paper.

"Thanks," she said, taking the cup he'd poured for her.  "Working already?  Oh and I'm going to need my gun back.  They get fussy about us keeping track of them and like that."

"Yes, I dare say they do," he agreed. Her gun appeared on the table near to her. "Enjoy your tea, and I'll shower. Then we can head on over to the Rose and Cross."

She was dressed by the time he emerged and sitting with her tea by the window watching the garden below.  "So tell me about the Rose and Cross," she said.  "All I know is it's a bunch of mages."

"Not much to tell, really," he replied, with a grin. "It's a bunch of mages.  Not to mention witches and magicians and hangers on. Picture a gentleman's club with a more modern view on membership and you pretty much have it. It was destroyed during the 1880s when a war was raging in France a few years ago, the battle raging through time and space as well.  When I decided to come forward in time permanently I thought I might reconstitute the Rose and Cross. And so now it is only a tiny echo of what it once was. Still..."

"God I've lived a boring life," she said with a laugh.  "Is it just my paucity of years or what?"

"Yes, I dare say. Many of us look with envy on a the prospect of a quiet life, you know. Although granted we tend to enjoy a bit of a dust-up now and again.  But then you must as well, since you work for law enforcement. Had you wished a quiet life sitting in a rocker on a porch in some deep south town, I'm quite certain you could have easily arranged for it. Perhaps you should talk to Leroy.  I hear Little Rock is quite nice."  His lips were twitching.

"Beast," she said, trying not to grin.  "Now you're laughing at me."

"Never," he swore. "merely finding enjoyment were I can. Are we ready?  Come. I'll show you the Rose and Cross." He held out a hand to her.

The place was incredibly discreet. It was on a side street just near Piccadilly Circus. Although many of the buildings there were commercial, the building Ian led her to looked like a quiet well kept and very quiet place comparatively speaking. There was nothing whatever to mark the door as the entrance to the Rose and Cross, until she focused on the fancy brass door knocker which featured a compass rose with an ankh in its center. Ian struck the knocker only once and the door was opened.

The man opening the door did not look at all like a mage. Rather he was large and looked more like hired muscle. "Hullo, Michaud. This is Ms Dubois.  Betty Jo, this is Michaud. He is the doorman and, for the rare occasions necessary, the bouncer."

Betty Jo smiled. "Hullo," she said looking around.

Michaud smiled and bowed and Ian lead her further into the building. The hallways were paneled with rich dark wood, the floors covered in plush carpeting. the walls were filled with lit paintings and lithographs, where there weren't bookshelves with a very eclectic collection of pieces that would grace any museum.  Ian nodded to a few  people whom they passed, but he kept moving down the hallway past a plush sitting room with a fireplace lit, and further on a dining room. Beyond that he came to a slightly more narrow hallway where he threw open double doors which revealed a plush office.

Betty Jo followed him into the office, looking around at the room.  It seemed to her it was very much his sort of room.  The books, the dark, masculine look of it, the polished desk that was obviously well used all amid the evocative scent of leather and the faint lingering traces of cigar smoke.

They'd barely entered the room when a young woman stuck her head in. "There are two young men at the door. Lisandro Patricio and Leroy Saunders. Are you in?"

Ian raised an eyebrow. "Show them in, please Sandra.  Sandra, this is  Betty Jo."

"Hi," Betty Jo said, smiling.  "Nice to meet you."  She didn't need an introduction to either Leroy or Lis.  She smiled at Leroy and hugged Lis and then settled back down in the chair at the extra desk in Ian's office.

Sandra as she was leaving, after casting an admiring glance at the two young men, asked, "Shall I send for Hermione?"

Ian frowned in thought. "No, I don't think so."

"Who's Hermione?" Leroy, the guy who always asked everything asked.

"My assistant.  An apprentice really," Ian replied.

Betty Jo filed it away for later along with all the other things she'd collected about him, just as she always did.  She'd realized early on the Ian compartmentalized his life in a lot of ways and his work was in one compartment and she was in another.  While there might be over lap between them they were still separate. So, having decided she wanted to know him a lot better and understanding that questions would only get her so far she'd set herself to listen and observe, garnering scraps of information that she fit into the puzzle that was Ian Blakesley as she could; the emerging picture growing ever more intriguing, even fascinating.

"So, uhm, listen," Leroy began. "We were uhm working on St Michael's - the planet, you know?  And, well, I was following this guy and, uhm, I got this picture .. of you," Leroy finished flashing the cell phone at Ian, which showed Ian and Aedan in Trafalgar Square exchanging the plans.

"Who is he?" Ian wanted to know.

"Aedan MacQuene," Leroy said.  "Oldest son of the MacQuene and his heir to House Skryl'Ster.  But I think he's going to be in jail when that time comes so daddy's going to have to find someone new."

"Did you see what he did after he passed the plans to Ian," Betty Jo asked.

"Yeah," Leroy replied with a curious frown. "He hopped it straight back to St Michael's where he had a prime dinner. Why?"

"Did he call anyone or talk to anyone?"  Betty Jo asked questions like a cop.  She also ignored the questions she was asked the same way.

Leroy, also a cop, recognized the technique and grinned. "Slow down girlfriend. Sup?"

She laughed.  "Sorry.  Auto pilot, there.  Ian was mugged last night. Who ever it was took the plans and we were wondering if the seller set him up.  They were waiting at Ian's house."

Leroy helped himself to a chair and frowned, looking from Betty Jo to Ian and back again. He thought for a second. "I can't say as I had him in sight every moment. We had our own stuff going on, and well, he was a sort of sideline. Anyway, I can't swear he wasn't involved, but from what I know of him I kinda doubt it. His House makes its money delivering stuff to buyers. I don't see where he'd want to wreck that reputation.  But hey, I've been wrong before."

Betty Jo nodded, hunting on the desk for a pen and scrap of paper.  "You know how to reach this guy?  Where we can find him?  And where he got the plans?"

"Oh yeah, we know exactly where he got 'em, what they are, and why they were stolen. What we don't know, Ian, is how you got involved," Lis replied, crossing his arms on his chest as he regarded the mage.

Betty Jo, momentarily distracted turned to look at Ian.  "If you'd rather," she said, "I can wait outside."

"No need," Ian said, regarding Lis and Leroy evenly. "None of your business," was his answer.

Betty Jo just leaned back and waited.

"It was stolen on St Michael's from a rather frail professor who ended up in hospital," Lis replied.

"Stolen," Leroy repeated.  "And it is something that could be used to hurt a lot of people who call you a friend," Leroy added, frowning.

"None of your business," Ian repeated quietly. "I'm interested in getting it back from those who stole it from me. I don't care where it came from or its provenance.  I'm not even particularly interested in what it does. Now, you two can help us get it back from the folks who stole it from me, or you two can get out."

Betty Jo, when Leroy looked at her for help, found herself wishing she had a nail file to hand, the moment was perfect for its use.  Instead she just met his look blandly and said, "It's his show, guys."

Lis and Leroy shared a look. Then Leroy said, "All right. But we're registering a complaint.  With who, I've no earthly, hell, nor unearthly idea, but we're letting the Refuge know about this."

"Fine, I've no objection to that. Now, if you'll be so kind as to sit down and be quiet.  I've a job to do." Ian looked from one to the other.

Lis nodded first, then Leroy, looking a bit rebellious, finally nodded his assent too.

Betty Jo just crossed her legs with a smile and leaned further back in her chair.

Both boys took seats and watched as Ian drew from his pocket a bit of paper. He read it, gathered a few things and arranged them on his desk. He closed his eyes and concentrated.   It was rather melodramatic, considering at least Dinah's search technique used visual aids.  Ian's was entirely internal. The only thing they saw was the bit of paper lift up off the desk and hover in the air for a moment, and a glow around Ian. Then the glow faded, the paper fell to rest on the desk, and Ian opened his eyes.  "It is still in New Jersey, or at least near there. We need to get over there."

"Where in Jersey?" Betty Jo asked, looking up from the desk were she'd been straightening the papers she disarranged in her hunt for a pen.  "Any idea?"

"I saw the word Newark when I watched it's arrival," Ian replied.

"Of course," she muttered.  "The armpit of the place."

"Shall we?" Ian asked. At their nod he whisked all four of them to what turned out to be Newark bus station.

Betty Jo looked around and sighed.  She buttoned her coat up to the throat and shifted her badge from her bag to her coat.

Ian's sight went internal for a moment then he said, "This way," and lead them down one of the corridors to the main exit where a line of cars and a couple of cabs sat waiting. He ignored them and shifted his gaze again. Lis and Leroy, used to weird behaviour of all sorts just waited.

"So I heard about you," Leroy said. "I'm Leroy Saunders, until recently a detective with Little Rock Police. Nice to meet you."

Betty Jo laughed.  "Oh great.  I can just imagine, if you heard from his father," she said, indicating Lis. "It's nice to meet you.  The Christmas party doesn't really count since we didn't get a chance to talk.  That was a nice piece of work on Grand Isle."

"Thanks. Too bad I don't have a job. I might take over Lis' job as bouncer at Hoolihan's."

She looked at him for a minute.  "Oh I don't think you'll be out of work long," she said.  Up ahead Ian went past the main entrance and continued on to the lockers.

Ian stopped in front of one locker and held out his hands, keeping them inches from the locker. "It's warded. Very well. I don't dare try to get into it as it would probably destroy the plans."

"Well, Lis and me could keep an eye on it and follow whoever shows up to pick it up. I mean, we know where it is, and me with Awakened abilities and Lis with magical surely we should be able to keep him in sight, right?"

"Of course," Betty Jo said, "unless he, she or it zaps out of sight?"

"I think I know who it is," Ian added quietly. "When they touch the locker to open it, wipe it with a piece of cloth and save it. If you lose him I will be able to track where he is."

"The magical equivalent of prints," she said, looking around.  "We're uhm, starting to attract the attention of the security types, guys.  Just so you know."

Leroy looked around and nodded agreement. "You guys go home. We got it, right Lis?"

Lisandro, the quiet part of Julian's genes, just nodded.

Ian took Betty Jo's hand and looked at her. "My place or yours?"

"Mine," she said.  When they arrived in her living room she nudged up the heat before she took off her coat.  "Coffee?  Lunch?  A drink?" she asked, hanging up her coat.

"A drink would be nice, thank you," he said, taking his own coat off and throwing it over the back of a chair.

She poured them both a scotch and then sat next to him on the sofa.  "Well, fast work there, Mr. Wolfe or being British perhaps I should say Mr. Holmes."

He smiled at her. "As I've said, I've some experience with avoiding the authorities and that implies learning ways of doing what they do only using magic."

She grinned.  "Well I'm envious.  And my feet are beyond awed.  So what now?"

"I need to do some research. I recognized a signature there. Uhm, magicians, mages, witches, whatever, have a signature to their magic. So if you understand magic well enough, you can identify the practitioner using that signature. This is one I've seen before. It isn't one I've seen recently, but with a little research on my part, I should be able to narrow it down to one or two individuals. I will say that whoever it is is very powerful. Even if we identify the practitioner, it won't be simple to get it back."

She nodded.  "No doesn't sound like it will be.  Still..." she said and hesitated a moment.  "I hadn't realized, not that it's any of my business, that you had an apprentice."

"It isn't something I do often. But Hermione has a lot of potential. And her sort of magic is highly compatible with my own, so it seemed...It was time I attempted it again."

"Oh.  Well, I uhm saw that she's studying a tome devoted to techniques of sexual magic?" Betty Jo said, the question evident in her voice.

"Yes, it's an aspect of magic and can be very helpful in certain instances."

"And uhm, a standard part of the apprenticeship program, the er, hands-on introduction?"

"I beg your pardon?"

She met his eyes.  "I'm asking if you are teaching her sexual magic in a practical rather than theoretical manner, hands-on as it were...if, in fact you're having sex with Hermione."

"Yes, I'm teaching her how to call down power using sexual magic. It isn't...It's not the same thing as...Technically, yes, I've had sex with Hermione. But it is strictly...It is education, Betty Jo."

"I see," she said.  "Well that is a problem."  She tilted her head slightly and considered him for a moment.  "For me anyway, because educational or not, I didn't do well in kindergarten so I don't share."

"It isn't as if... I've a responsibility to Hermione, Betty Jo. There is no attraction there on either of our parts. It is purely clinical."

"Really?  That would suggest a remarkable ability to..." She stopped herself and started again.  "Ian, it doesn't matter.  It can be as clinical as you want it.  I don't share.  At the end of the day..."  She stopped and sighed.  "It never occurred to me...I just assumed...God how arrogant is that?  I can't speak to your responsibility to Hermione, so I'll accept that as valid.  I'll even accept that from your perspective there's nothing more to it that would be involved in teaching her to bake a cake.   But it doesn't matter...for a whole lot of reasons."

"I see," he said.  He toyed with his drink. "I did not .. We've come to no understandings, Betty Jo."

"I know.  I don't want to imply we have.  I made an assumption and I'm sorry about that.  I'm also not trying to suggest you've...I'm not accusing you of anything," she said.  "But now, as I said, it's a problem for me."

"And you are expecting me to swear that I will have sex with no one else at all, or..."

"I'm saying," she said, holding onto calm with everything she had, "that I don't sleep with men who sleep with other people.  How you parse that is up to you.  What you do with the information is up to you."

He swallowed his drink. "I'll get back to you on that, shall I?" He stood, and winked out.

Betty Jo stared at the space where he'd stood for a long time, without moving, fear like a knife in her gut.  Then she got up and set both glasses in the sink and went upstairs to find her sisters.