Free Rosemary for the Holidays (Consulting Magic) by Amy Crook

 
     

    The morning of December 1, Julian St. Albans made his sleepy way out of the bedroom he shared with his grumpy – and still asleep – lover, Alex Benedict, only to find their flat had been transformed overnight. Evergreen boughs were festooned above the mantel and around all the doorways, entwined with fairy lights and red velvet bows. Pomanders made of clove-studded oranges hung here and there, along with pinecones tied with more rich red ribbon. There was a centrepiece on the coffee table made of holly and ivy entwined around a glass-sheltered lantern with a thick red candle burning in the middle.
    "Wow," said Julian, stepping out and looking all around. Paper snowflakes as fine as lace were strung along the walls, and there was a sprig of lucky mistletoe nestled in among the pine branches above the front door. Everywhere he looked, Julian saw some new celebration of the season. "So, you guys really like Solstice, then?"
    A tinkling laugh came from the kitchen, and then Alys strolled out with a tray bobbing along behind her. The house-brownie came up to Julian's waist, but she'd always seemed to have enough authority for someone three times her size, as far as Julian was concerned. "It's an important holiday for the earth," said Alys, "so we decided to go all out, especially since you're having that party later this month."
    "Oh, right, this will be perfect," said Julian sitting on the couch so the tray could settle. There was a small pot of tea and the attendant accessories, plus two fresh scones, jam and cream, and a glass of juice. "It's beautiful."
    "It's good you think so. We'll see what his nibs says," replied Alys tartly, but she was grinning. "I'm thinking an omelet for your proper breakfast, all right?"
    Julian smiled, hands busy slathering plenty of jam and cream into the first scone. "Sausage omelet?" he asked, making puppy eyes.
    She laughed. "Yes, that's what we've got. You're lucky it's not ham."
    "Nah," he said, "I like ham, too." He took a big bite of the scone and made very happy sounds at the way it melted in his mouth. "Did you make this jam?"
    "I did, aye," said the brownie. "We've laid in a store of things for you lads this winter, made from the bounty of both your lands."
    Julian grinned. "That's quite clever." He went back to eating, knowing he wouldn't have too long before there was more food, and after that he'd have to dress and head out to work. He'd have to catch a cab; Jones had begun the long process of teaching both him and Alex to drive, but it was slow going with all their busy schedules.
    She vanished back into the kitchen – though not literally, apparently she wasn't in an invisible mood – and Julian poured some nice strong tea and added sugar and milk before attacking his second scone.
    Julian ate the hearty breakfast that showed up quickly enough: fried potatoes and onions snuggled up on the plate with the omelet, along with two more scones and a bowl of fruit. He'd almost grown used to the demands on his body that being a magic user required, but it still seemed strange sometimes to eat what felt like endless huge meals every day. Julian's work was even busier now, with his mornings spent in the nursery and afternoons split between the Agency greenhouse and Geoff's tutoring, and the various Temples and the priests there who could give him lessons in exchange for his assistance. He got to see Alex for lunch almost every day, too, since Alex often had work at one or the other place as well.
    He finished up and got ready to head out, pausing to switch out the fairy-bread offering. "Oh, this is nice," said Julian, seeing that she'd added a touch of seasonal spices to the bread. "Our local fairies must feel quite spoiled by now."
    "It's good for them to be pleased with you," said Alys. "I'll send lunches along with Alex, he says you're doing something together this afternoon that'll need energy."
    "Yes, ma'am, we're going to work on the wish tree. It's still on city land, even