“Yes. I have a new assignment,” Charlie said. “It is not pleasant.”
Jackaby studied Charlie more closely and raised an eyebrow. “We had a tête-à-tête with Mayor Spade just this afternoon. What does he have you doing? Harassing little old ladies? Insulting short people?”
“Examining a crime scene.”
“Oh, yes? What merits a crime, then? Possession of pointy ears? Distribution of abnormally chewy dinner rolls? Eye color? Green really is gratuitously showy.”
“Murder,” Charlie answered, “in a public space. Under very odd circumstances.”
“Oh.” Jackaby swallowed. “Well, hrm. I suppose that might be worth a follow-up, then. Best of luck sorting it out.”
“I was actually hoping I might enlist some help to that end,” said Charlie.
Jackaby shook his head. “As it happens, I am busy saving our entire world and the next one over from colliding together and raining death and destruction upon us all. So, while I appreciate your consideration, and I do love odd, I’m afraid I am otherwise engaged.”
“Understood, sir,” said Charlie. “But I was actually talking about Miss Rook.”
Jackaby blinked. “You want my assistant?”
I blinked. “You want my assistance?”
Charlie nodded and looked at me a little nervously. He hesitated before elaborating, and when the words came, they came in a rush. “Time and time again, Miss Rook, I have discovered you to be a woman of superlative intellect and intuition. I have discovered myself to be better for your company. It is an imposition, I know—but I want you with me on this case. I always want you with me.”
In the ensuing silence, I felt the flush of heat rising back to the tips of my ears. “That, Mr. Jackaby,” I managed when I had found my voice, “is how you should talk to Jenny.”
“Out of the question,” said Jackaby, closing the office door behind him.
“Honestly, sir,” I said, “I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss.” We had excused ourselves to speak privately for a moment, leaving poor Charlie politely rocking on his heels in the foyer. The office was warm and smelled of sage and witch hazel, and the desk was littered with bits of twine and herbs where Jackaby had been preparing fresh wards. Douglas had burrowed into a nest of old receipts on the bookshelf behind us and was sound asleep with his bill tucked back into his wing. I had given up trying to get him to stop napping on the paperwork. “You’re the one who told me that I shouldn’t have to choose between profession and romance,” I said.
“I’m not the one making a fuss. I don’t care the least bit about your little foray into . . . romance.” Jackaby pushed the word out of his mouth as though it had been reluctantly clinging to the back of his throat. “If anything, I am concerned that you are choosing to make precisely the choice that I told you you should not make!”
“What? Wait a moment. Are you . . . jealous?”
“Don’t be asinine! I am not jealous! I am merely . . . protective. And perhaps troubled by your lack of fidelity to your position.”
“That is literally the definition of jealous, sir. Oh, for goodness’ sake. I’m not choosing Charlie over you! I’m not going to suddenly stop being your assistant just because I spend time working on another case!”
“You might!” he blurted out. He sank down into the chair at his desk. “You just might.”
“Why are you acting like this?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because things change. Because people change. Because . . . because Charlie Barker is going to propose,” he said. He let his hand drop and looked me in the eyes. “Marriage,” he added. “To you.”
I blinked.
“I miss a social cue or two from time to time, but even I’m not thick enough to believe all that was about analyzing bloodstains together. He has the ring. It’s in his breast pocket right now. He’s attached an absurd level of emotional investment to the thing—I’m surprised it hasn’t burned a hole right through the front of his jacket, the way its aura is glowing. He’s nervous about it. He’s going to propose. Soon, I would guess.”
I blinked.
The air in front of me wavered like a mirage, and in another moment Jenny had rematerialized. “And if he does,” she said softly, “it will be Abigail’s decision to face, not yours. There are worse fates than to receive a proposal from a handsome young suitor.” She added, turning to me with a grin, “Charlie is a good man.”
“Yes, fine! But she has such prodigious potential!” Jackaby lamented. “Having feelings is one thing—I can grudgingly tolerate feelings—but actually getting married? The next thing you know they’ll be wanting to do something rash, like live together ! Miss Rook, you have started something here that I am loath to see you leave unfinished. You’ve started becoming someone here whom I truly want to meet when she is done. Choosing to leave everything you have here to go be a good man’s wife would be such a wretched waste of that promise.” He faltered, looking to Jenny, and then to the floorboards. “On the other hand, you should never have chosen to work for me in the first place. It remains one of your most ill-conceived and reckless decisions to date—and that is saying something, because you also chose to blow up a dragon once.” He sighed. “Jenny is right. You could make a real life with that young man, and you shouldn’t throw that away just to hang about with a fractious bastard and a belligerent duck.” He sagged until his forehead was resting on his desk.
Hovering behind him, Jenny moved to put a hand gingerly on his shoulder. Her fingers passed right through him, and she bit her lip and withdrew the hand. Jackaby did not appear to have noticed the attempted gesture at all.
“When Charlie proposes,” he said, looking up from the desk listlessly, “just remember that not making a choice is always an option.”
I blinked.
“We’re never not making choices,” said Jenny softly from behind him.
“Charlie,” I managed finally, “is going to propose?”
Jackaby nodded. “Marriage,” he added. “To you. Have you been listening?”
I shook my head. Charlie and I had been on only half a dozen proper dates—and only if you counted situations of mortal peril as proper dates. The thought of having a whole life with him all to myself, instead of just stolen moments, felt like tripping over a floorboard and falling into a feather bed, disorienting and delightful. But I had never considered that more of Charlie might mean less of my life here on Augur Lane. Charlie was one of the only people in my life who supported, even encouraged, my commitment to this mad line of work. It was part of the reason that— I swallowed. My head felt all hot and foggy.
It was part of the reason that I loved him.
I realized Jackaby and Jenny were both watching me closely.
“I—I’m going to go look at a dead body,” I said, straightening. “I’m going to go find clues and interview witnesses. I’m going to go think very, very hard about murder and mayhem and monsters, because that’s what I do.”