Arcane Entanglement (The Mage and His Brute #1)

Chapter 28

“Like I wrote in my report, the protective wards around the building have recently been disturbed, which suggests forced entry,” the forensic mage said. “Also, this place is more of a mess than I’d expect it to be, considering how neat Millbrook’s lodgings are upstairs.”

Evander noted the paperwork spilled across the floor and the various items that had been knocked off the bench and shelves as he crossed the room. Half-finished projects littered Millbrook’s workstation. Amidst the enchanted gadgets was a pocket watch, its intricate engravings still glowing faintly.

A frown furrowed his brow when he recognised a set of engraving tools for carving precise magical runes and a rectangular device the size of a music box beside the watch.

“That’s not something you’d normally expect to find in a Charm Weaver’s workshop,” Evander muttered.

“What is it?” Rufus joined him at the bench.

Shaw came over, curiosity sparking her eyes.

Evander carefully lifted the box. It was covered in dials and switches.

“It’s a thaumic capacitor.”

Rufus and Shaw levelled blank stares at him.

“It’s a device made for storing and releasing magical energy.” Evander wrinkled his brow. “Their use is restricted to government research labs. There are only a handful of these in the country.”

Rufus’s eyes bulged. His gaze switched from Evander to the device.

“Did Millbrook steal this?!”

Evander lifted the box to his eye and peered through a circular window at the complex arrangement of gears, crystals, and what appeared to be miniature lightning contained within the glass tubes visible inside. Glowing softly at the centre was a crystal pulsing with stored magical energy.

“No. I’m pretty certain Millbrook made this.”

Evander put the box down, his thoughts lingering on why a Charm Weaver would need such a device.

I wonder if it has something to do with the crystal vial I found in the alley?

Shaw sucked air through her teeth and rocked back on her heels.

“Soooo, I’ve been meaning to ask something, your Grace.”

Rufus narrowed his eyes at her innocent expression. “Shaw, this had better not be?—”

“Is it true that the Commissioner is going to give you the old heave-ho?”

The mage stared avidly at Evander, all ears.

Rufus cursed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I trust Lord Watson has better things to do with his time than to read the gossip rags, Miss Shaw,” Evander replied tactfully. He released a faint wave of elemental power as he began wandering around the room.

Shaw brightened. “So, the rumour that you’re gonna get the sack isn’t true?”

“Shaw!” Rufus snapped.

“What?” The mage shrugged, unrepentant. “There’s a betting pool going on in the mess. I need to hedge my chances if I want to pay the cleaning bill for his Grace’s boots.”

Evander slowed when he reached the centre of the workshop. He could feel something in the room. A barely noticeable undercurrent that tickled his magic senses.

“Dare I ask what the odds look like?” he said distractedly, letting loose a stronger wave of power.

Shaw grimaced. “Fifteen to one says you’ll be out on your ear come the end of the week, your Grace.”

Rufus’s face darkened.

Evander pulled up short and blinked. “That’s quite a…decisive stand.”

He stiffened in the next instant.

The air where he stood was thick with the smell of metal, oil, and various alchemical reagents. Underneath it all was a faint scent reminiscent of ozone.

It was the smell of raw magic.

Evander followed it to an easel holding a chalkboard covered in arcane formulae and engineering diagrams.

There were scorch marks on the floor behind it, a short distance from the fireplace. Goosebumps broke out on Evander’s skin when a familiar coppery waft teased his sensitive nostrils.

“Blood was shed here,” he said grimly.

“What?” Rufus hurried over, Shaw in his footsteps.

Evander squatted and focused his magic into his hand.

Coolness flowed through his veins and formed a mist above his palm. The droplets coalesced into a small, spinning whirlpool. He manifested his wind magic and merged the two to create a controlled jet of water with a precision few could manage.

Evander carefully directed the spray at the scorch marks.

It cleared them in seconds.

Shaw gasped. Rufus swore.

Evander clenched his jaw. The stone slabs were covered in a large blood stain.

“Miss Shaw, can you examine the fire irons?” Rufus asked stiffly.

Shaw removed a pair of examining gloves from her coat and pulled them on. She lifted the implements from the stand next to the fireplace and scrutinised them.

“The poker is clean, sir.”

Their gazes swung to the thick layer of ash and soot in the hearth.

“Someone tidied up after themselves,” Evander said thinly. “Mortimer said Millbrook suffered a blow to the head before his death. I guess this was where he was struck.”

The trail of ozone led him from the fireplace to the furnace.

Evander stopped when he reached the area beyond the table. His scalp prickled. There was a lingering chill in that corner of the room that should not be there.

It hinted at the use of dark magic and death.

“I think Millbrook was killed here.”

Rufus and Shaw exchanged a tense look. They knew better than to voice their doubts. This aspect of Evander’s abilities was what had earned him the status of Special Arcane Investigator after all.

“Stay back,” Evander warned in a hard voice. “I’m going to attempt something.”

Rufus and Shaw retreated several steps.

Heat licked through Evander’s bloodstream with his next inhale.

Shaw choked on her breath when sparks ignited the air around him.

Dark wisps flickered into view all around Evander, the strands roiling as if tossed by a gale as they clashed with his powers. The sinister residue he’d revealed settled on the floor around him under the influence of his fire magic, forming a fine layer of inky dust.

Acid burned the back of Evander’s throat when he found himself standing on the outline of a body curled up on itself.

“Bloody hellfire!” Shaw croaked.

Rufus swallowed and cut his eyes to Evander. “Is that?—?”

Evander nodded curtly. “A Shadow Imprint.”

He could tell what Rufus and Shaw were thinking from their stunned expressions. The ability to manifest the location of a dead body—the place where a soul had recently departed this world—was the remit of the most powerful Archmages in the world.

“Miss Shaw, did you find a logbook on the premises? The one where Millbrook would have kept details of his recent projects and clients?”

Shaw gulped and shook her head. “No, your Grace. I found that surprising and made a note of it in my report.”

Evander exchanged a troubled look with Rufus.

“Whoever killed Millbrook probably came back for the logbook,” the inspector said darkly.

“That or they were looking for that crystal vial,” Evander muttered.

Shaw scratched her head. “There’s something I don’t get. Why go to all that trouble? Why kill him here, then take his body to the East End and make it look like he was murdered there?”

“To throw us off.” Evander’s voice hardened. “Had we not found that crystal vial, we may never have discovered Millbrook’s identity or the involvement of dark mages in his murder.”

“And even if we had, it would have been weeks after the fact,” Rufus added sourly. “The trail would have gone cold by then. And whatever their intentions were, they might already have achieved them.”

Evander’s stomach churned. Things were getting more dangerous with every passing day.

“We should talk to the Artificers and see if they’ve figured out what that crystal vial is. It’s a key component of those dark mages’ plans.” Evander clenched his jaw. “I am certain of it.”

But all thoughts of visiting the Artificers fled Evander and Rufus’s minds when they returned to Scotland Yard. An anonymous letter had been delivered to the Met in their absence. It claimed a dark magic cult was behind Alastair Millbrook’s death.