Chapter Text
The file appeared on a cool, November Thursday night, around six. Wallace spotted it first and called Hugo in from the back deck. He’d been brooding again, and Wallace didn’t know how to help him. It wasn’t anything Wallace had done, or Mei for that matter, but Hugo had been gloomy most of the afternoon. Earlier, Wallace had found him staring at the bedroom wall full of pictures of far-off places, and he had asked, “Do you wish you could go?”
Hugo had just shrugged and pushed past Wallace out of the bedroom. Now he was out back, brooding.
“Hugo!” Wallace called, opening the back door. “File came.”
Hugo heaved a sigh and came into the house. He picked up the file, and instead of his normal steady read-through with a matter of fact ‘go get them’ to Wallace or Mei with short instructions, this time he blinked at the file and re-read it without a word. When he bit his lip and kept staring at it as if something might change if he looked hard enough, Wallace ventured a soft, “Hugo?” and finally Hugo tore his gaze from the paper in his hands.
“This one’s different,” he said, simply. And then, “I think both of you should go.”
Mei exchanged a nervous glance with Wallace. “Both of us?”
Hugo nodded, staring at the file again. “There may be . . . trouble.”
“Trouble how?” Wallace asked, stepping closer to Hugo.
“I haven’t dealt a lot with magical people, in the end.”
Magical people. Wallace knew they existed, of course. He remembered brushing aside the news about DICOMY and its corruption years and years ago when he was a lawyer. They’d reformed, and the news just hadn’t concerned him or his law firm at the time. Someone had spearheaded that reform, a couple of people from an island off the coast he never visited in all of his busy legal life squeezing money out of clients in the name of ‘justice,’ and he really had never paid attention to the issue. He swallowed a bit of lingering embarrassment at who he used to be to dismiss human rights issues like that so easily. “I’ve never dealt with magical people. Is the client magical, then?”
Hugo shook his head. “He’s not.”
Mei asked, “You said we’d be dealing – oh. He’s not, but his loved ones are?”
“Wait,” Wallace said, reaching for his jacket. “He’s dead. Magic or no, death is death, right?”
“I suppose so,” Hugo replied. “I guess I’m just not sure. I’d like you two to look out for each other, and I figure two voices might be better than one in this situation.”
“Who’s in the file, boss? We can handle this,” Mei asked.
Hugo flipped through it again. “Linus Baker.”
Mei whistled. “THE Linus Baker?” When Hugo nodded, she whistled again.
“Who’s Linus Baker?” Wallace asked.
Hugo and Mei both stared.
“What?” he asked.
Mei shook her head. “Did you do anything besides work while you were alive? Like watch the news? Or pay attention to important issues?”
“I was busy, and I was selfish. This is already on the record,” he snapped, the old shame rising again.
“It’s okay, Wallace,” Hugo said gently. “Linus Baker and his son, Sal, were the frontline reformers of DICOMY and its schools. They, along with the rest of their family – “
“His husband is a phoenix!” Mei interrupted.
Wallace blinked.
“They,” Hugo continued, “and their family are credited with changing public perception of magical people in this country. They’re kind of a big deal.”
“So Linus Baker died?” Wallace asked, wanting to make sure he was caught up.
Hugo nodded. “I’m sad to hear of it. I kind of knew this already, but his file confirms that he was very beloved. This one may be difficult.” He paused, “And also one of his sons is the antichrist.”
Wallace swallowed and sat down suddenly. “What?”
“It’s true,” Mei said. “He is.”
“The antichrist? Um. That might be a problem.”
“He’s kind,” Mei said, reassuringly. “He’s a professional violinist. I’ve seen some interviews.”
“I have a few of his recordings. I listen to them when I’m doing paperwork, mostly. Keeps me calm,” Hugo said. He came over to Wallace and wrapped him in a warm hug. “It will be fine. But you should go.”
Wallace gathered his coat and let Hugo press a kiss to his lips. “You’re both very good at this,” he reminded Wallace, and it warmed Wallace up like Hugo’s faith in him always did.
<><><><>
Wallace wished Hugo was here. He stood on the dock, waiting for an actual ferry with Mei (“Don’t you think it’s funny, Wallace? And it won’t take too much time, honest!”), and he admired the coastal beauty. Cool blue water lapped against the dark wood dock, and the air tasted a bit of salt and a bit of sand, and warm air draped itself over him in a way the forest air never did. The sun made diamonds on the top of the water. A woman with grey hair and blue overalls stood nearby, looking longingly across the waves at the island they were heading for. Another man approached and stood next to her. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark curly hair and brown skin that almost matched the dock, and when he reached for her hand, she took it and smiled up at him sadly.
“What brought you to town today, Sal?” she asked.
“Some paperwork at the bank. Just a few legal things that needed to happen quickly.” He paused and added, “With the adoptions and bank account – it was a little trickier than Arthur expected it would be.”
She nodded. “How is he holding up today?”
The man, Sal, Wallace reminded himself, didn’t answer. He just stared across the ocean to the island and clearly tried not to cry.
“Beloved” Hugo had said.
The woman leaned over and wrapped an arm around Sal’s waist.
“Were you on the island when Arthur flew?” Sal asked.
The woman nodded. “It was beautiful. I hadn’t seen it in years. Zoe says he’s been doing it more this week.”
Sal nodded. “When we forced him away from the bedside is all, though. He wouldn’t sleep.” At that moment the dilapidated ferry pulled up to the dock and a middle-aged man with a pink baseball hat and yellow overalls leaned out of the cabin. “Just you two?” he called.
“Yes!” the woman called back. “No cars today!”
“None tomorrow, I hope,” the ferryman replied. “Island can’t handle that many.”
“No,” Sal said. “We’ve told people to park here at the dock. Zoe and Helen agreed to shuttle people up to the house after the ceremony for the meal.”
“We did!” The woman, apparently Helen, replied. “I hope people don’t mind the truck,” she said to the side.
The ferry pulled away from the dock, and Wallace leaned against the rail. They’d made themselves invisible for the trip, so Wallace didn’t try to hide his stare at Sal. He didn’t look magical, whatever that meant, but there was a solemnity and dignity in his eyes that suggested he was more than he might appear.
“He’s a schoolteacher now,” Mei said, leaning against Wallace. “He and Linus Baker worked together to make the education reforms that allow magical kids to go to regular schools with everyone else. He and Mr. Baker wrote the legislation, he wrote the speeches, and Mr. Baker and some of the others gave the speeches.”
“What grade does he teach?” Wallace asked. It felt important to know.
“Fifth, mostly,” she replied.
That was good. Fifth graders need a steady hand.
“Arthur said there might be almost a hundred people tomorrow,” Helen said to Sal.
“Linus made a lot of friends over the years,” Sal said. He smiled broadly. “He changed a lot just like the rest of us.”
“Sure, but he had it in him all along. I remember him standing on that dock giving the townspeople what for when they threatened the island. I knew then that he had it in him.”
“Arthur said that Linus’s face turned beet red that day. He was really angry.”
“Yes, well, Arthur can talk. He burned for the first time publicly that day. He was angry, too.”
Sal nodded. “I was at home being scared.” He paused. “I was scared a lot back then.”
“You figured it out, though,” Helen said, patting his arm.
“Thanks to Linus.”
Tears sprang to Helen’s eyes, and she brushed them away. “A lot of us have him to thank. That’s what we’ll do tomorrow.”
Sal nodded and the ferry pulled up to another dock. Everyone got off and Helen waved at the ferryman as he left. “Still feels odd to take the ferry and not get growled at,” she said, and Sal laughed, long and bright.
Wallace didn’t notice the laughter, though, since he was carefully watching a shortish roundish man in a suit standing with his feet in the water nearby. No one else noticed him, so Wallace knew immediately who he was looking at.
Linus Baker.