Arcane Entanglement (The Mage and His Brute #1)

Chapter 18

“I don’t remember much about the events of the last two years,” Magnus said in a harrowing voice. “It all feels like a nightmare. One with no end in sight.” He swallowed. “I have a dim memory of being approached by a man while I was working the docks one night. He offered me a temporary job as a bodyguard and said I had to leave with him there and then. I—” The Brute stopped and licked his lips, his face full of regret. “I knew the money would come in handy for the kids at the orphanage, so I agreed despite my misgivings. The last thing I recall is following him into an alley.”

Evander studied Magnus with a faint frown. He knew the Brute was telling the truth about what had happened to him. The way his shoulders hunched and the terror making his voice tremble could not be easily feigned.

“You fool.” A muscle worked in Viggo’s jawline. “You should have come to me if you needed money!”

Magnus shook his head. “You’ve already done so much for us, Viggo. Almost every penny Nightshade can spare goes into supporting us thralls so that we have a better life.”

Surprise jolted Evander at that revelation.

Judging from Solomon’s stiff expression, he didn’t like this fact being made common knowledge.

Rufus’s gaze reflected Evander’s growing unease. Magnus’s statement made it clear this case wasn’t just about the murder of a reputable Charm Weaver.

There’s a darker plot afoot. Evander frowned. And whatever that crystal vial is, it’s at the heart of it.

“Do you remember attacking my carriage two nights ago?” he asked Magnus.

The Brute flinched at his question.

“It’s alright,” Viggo reassured. “The Ice—” he stopped and glanced at Evander, “I mean, his Grace means you no harm.”

“Please, call me Evander.”

Solomon sucked in air. Rufus and Shaw’s eyes rounded. Sergeant Griffiths went slack-jawed.

Viggo stared, his face unreadable. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“And I will be terribly offended if you keep calling me your Grace,” Evander said mildly.

Magnus looked between them, confused.

“Alright,” Viggo finally grunted.

“Now that you ask, your face does look vaguely familiar your, er—your Grace,” Magnus mumbled. “I get the feeling I recently glimpsed it for a brief instance.”

Evander’s pulse quickened. “Oh.”

“Evander?” Rufus said warily.

“When my cufflinks detonated.” Evander’s mouth had gone dry. “I think he regained control of his senses for a moment!”

Viggo froze. “Regained control of his senses?” His expression grew thunderous. “What do you mean by that?!”

“He has exploding cufflinks?” Solomon hissed to Rufus.

Evander’s mind raced as he finally connected the pieces of the puzzle.

Magnus can’t remember anything for the simple reason that he was not in control of his own mind and actions.

He realised everyone was staring at him, Viggo with a look that said he’d better speak up and fast.

“The dark mage who was leading them had a ring with a black gem,” Evander explained. “I believe that’s how he and his associates have been controlling Magnus. The gem lit up with a red light when he gave Magnus the order to kill me and Ginny. Magnus’s pupils glowed the same shade of crimson before he attacked us.”

Magnus blanched. “I—I tried to kill you?!” His voice broke.

Evander crossed the floor and dropped to his knee in front of the startled Brute before anyone could react. He touched the man’s trembling hand gently.

“It wasn’t your fault, Magnus. I doubt anyone could have resisted that spell.”

Magnus’s chin quivered. “Do you really mean that, your Grace?!” he choked.

“Yes. I shall convince my Commander to release you.”

“Evander,” Rufus warned, “you know that might not be possible.”

Evander jutted his chin out. “The man is innocent, Rufus. You and I both know it. I will not have him rot in prison while we finish solving this case. I’ll speak to Winterbourne. Hell, I will get him out even if I have to see the Commissioner himself!”

Viggo drew a sharp breath. Even Solomon looked stunned at Evander’s declaration.

“You best not argue with him, sir,” Shaw told Rufus. “You know what his Grace is like once he makes up his mind. He’s as stubborn as the son of a mule.”

“I hardly want to hear that from you, Miss Shaw,” Evander muttered.

Magnus sniffed and wiped his gleaming eyes. “But—I must have hurt you.”

Evander grimaced. “Having my head nearly crushed was not the most pleasant experience.” He paused. “To be fair, Lady Hartley did shoot you in the back of your skull. Twice.”

Magnus startled. “She did?!”

“Yes. If it wasn’t for the fact that you’re a Brute, you would have been in trouble.”

“Oh.” Magnus touched the back of his head. “My ma always said I had a hard skull—” He froze, brow wrinkling. “What’s that?”

“What do you mean?” Viggo said.

Magnus twisted on the bench. “There’s something there. Can you see it?!” His voice rose, panic setting in at whatever it was he was feeling.

Something glinted about an inch above his hairline.

Goosebumps broke out on Evander’s skin, his instincts as an Archmage warning him of imminent danger.

Viggo scowled. “What the devil?!” He reached for it.

“ No! ” Evander made to grab his hand. “Don’t touch?—!”

Viggo’s fingers grazed the object buried at the base of Magnus’s skull just as Evander grasped his wrist.

The force that whomped out of it knocked Viggo off the bench and sent Evander crashing onto the floor. Viggo flew across the cell and smashed into a wall with a grunt, the impact cracking the surface.

A bellow of pain left Magnus.

Evander’s heart raced as he pushed up on his elbows and watched the Brute clutch his head, his face a mask of agony. Magnus’s roar cut off just as abruptly as it’d started. He collapsed to the ground and began convulsing.

It’s a cursed artefact!

Magic warmed Evander’s blood as he jumped to his feet.

“Sergeant Griffiths, evacuate the other cells and isolate this floor!” he barked. “Miss Shaw, go get Mrs. Scarborough! Rufus, guard the door with Solomon!”

The room’s occupants unfroze, his rapid-fire orders bringing them to life. Shaw and Griffiths ran out of the cell.

Magnus’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. His back arched and his heels drummed the stone floor, his laboured gasps loud in the stunned hush.

Viggo straightened from the wall.

“What’s happening to him?!” he said numbly.

“I’ll explain later.” Evander shrugged out of his coat and undid his cravat hastily, his chest tight with dread. “You have to pin him down and stop him from biting his tongue!”

Determination filled Viggo’s face. He removed his trouser belt and joined Evander. They pried Magnus’s jaws open so he could slip the leather band between the jerking man’s teeth.

“Help me get him on his front!” Evander snapped.

Viggo cursed. Magnus was turning blue.

He obeyed Evander nonetheless.

“I don’t care what you do but try and keep him still,” Evander ordered in a hard voice as he took up position by Magnus’s head. “Sit on him if you must!”

Wind magic lightened his body. He used it to carefully part Magnus’s hair, exposing what was buried in the man’s flesh.

Viggo stiffened where he was holding Magnus down. “What in the name of Hades is that?!”

Rufus swore when he saw the object.

Evander’s stomach knotted. He could sense the malevolence contained within the gemstone embedded in Magnus’s head. It reeked of dark magic.

“I think this is how they’ve been forcing him to follow their orders.” Evander met Viggo’s grim stare, his pulse pounding. “It must be connected to the ring that mage was wearing!”

A muscle jumped in the Brute’s jawline. “Can you get rid of it?”

Evander hesitated. “You saw what happened when you touched it.”

Despair darkened Viggo’s eyes. He glanced at Magnus where the latter thrashed beneath him. “There’s nothing we can do for him?!”

“I didn’t say that.”

Shaw returned before Viggo could ask more questions. She was dragging a tall woman with dark skin, golden eyes, and wire-rimmed spectacles that were currently askew by the hand.

“What on Earth is going on, your Grace?!” Philippa Scarborough adjusted her glasses, her chest heaving with her breaths. “Sergeant Griffiths has sealed off this floor. And Miss Shaw here tells me I?—”

“I don’t have time to explain, Mrs. Scarborough,” Evander interrupted. “Can you remove the curse on this gem?!”

Mrs. Scarborough stared from Evander, to Viggo and the Brute on the ground. Her expression grew focused when she saw the dark stone. She approached briskly, the protective amulet on her necklace swinging against her dress.

“Don’t worry,” Evander reassured a tense Viggo. “Mrs. Scarborough is the best curse-breaker in the Met. In fact, she is one of the best curse-breakers in the whole of England.”

“You flatter me your Grace.” Mrs. Scarborough knelt beside Evander and studied the jewel buried in the back of Magnus’s head intently. “Was this triggered by someone touching it?”

Viggo flinched.

“I see.” Purple light lit up the curse-breaker’s pupils and danced on the tips of her fingers. “We’ll just have to do our best then, won’t we?”

A breeze that smelled faintly of violets danced across Evander as she unleashed her magic and attempted to shatter the curse on the gemstone.

Sweat broke out on Mrs. Scarborough’s forehead after a minute.

“This sure is something else, your Grace!” she grunted.

Evander looked from Magnus’s puce face to the curse-breaker’s flushed expression. The fact that she was struggling to break the spell made his stomach knot all over again. He fisted his hands.

Whoever created this cursed gem must be an incredibly powerful mage!

“Is there something I can do to help?!” he asked harshly.

“We need to cool him down.” Mrs. Scarborough winced. “His body temperature is rising and making things worse!”

Coldness flowed through and out of Evander, lowering the room’s temperature by several degrees.

“Will this do?”

“Yes!” Mrs. Scarborough panted.

“We’re running out of time!” Viggo snarled, his breath misting in front of his face.

“And I’m—” Mrs. Scarborough gasped, “running…out…of magic!”

The curse-breaker shuddered. Evander knew she wasn’t lying.

He could feel her power being drained by the gemstone. Her amulet trembled violently where it hung around her neck, its powers clashing with that contained within the cursed object as it tried to protect its owner.

Evander’s mouth flattened to a thin line.

Dammit! Is that the only option left?

A guttural rasp left Magnus.

Evander knew the Brute would draw his last breath within the next minute if he didn’t act now. He clenched his jaw and pressed a hand to Mrs. Scarborough’s back, aware that what he was about to do would expose the secret he had kept all of his life.

“Brace yourself!” he warned the curse-breaker.

“Evander!” Rufus took a step forward, his face full of alarm. “You can’t!”

Mrs. Scarborough looked between the two of them, confused.

“I must,” Evander ground out. “Or Magnus will die!”

His fingers grew hot as he focused his powers into them. He gritted his teeth and poured a controlled wave of magic into the curse-breaker’s body.

Mrs. Scarborough gasped and stiffened. Searing purple brightened her pupils and hands, the light so bright Evander had to squint.

The gemstone cracked under her revived magic.

Magnus went limp.

Viggo paled. “Is he—is he?—?!”

“No.” Evander held a hand out towards Solomon. “Mr. Barden, if you would be so kind as to lend me the knife strapped to your left calf please!” he said urgently.

Solomon flinched. “How did you?—?!”

“Solomon, the knife!” Viggo barked.

Solomon removed the weapon from the sheath on his leg and tossed it to Evander.

Evander cooled Magnus’s flesh with a layer of ice magic and cut out the cracked gemstone. The wound oozed a little. He pressed his cravat to it.

“Get a healer,” he told Shaw grimly.

The forensic mage hesitated before nodding jerkily and running out of the room, her face ashen.

Viggo climbed off Magnus and fell on his backside, his chest shuddering with his breaths. He gave Evander a grateful look.

Evander’s nails dug into his palms. He knew Viggo’s gratitude would be short-lived once he realised what had just happened.

Tremors racked Mrs. Scarborough’s frame. She stared at Evander, her eyes dark with dread. The same dread he’d glimpsed on Shaw’s face before she’d left the cell.

“That power.” The curse-breaker gulped. “Your Grace, are you—an Archmage ?!”