Arcane Entanglement (The Mage and His Brute #1)

Chapter 33

Viggo could only watch in heart-pounding awe as Evander’s magic blanketed the sky above the entire neighbourhood with a mantle of earth. Frightened screams rent the air as it swallowed the sun.

Wind magic swelled protectively around them a moment before Evander released the blanket of soil. It crashed down with the thunderous sound, smothering the magical fires and putting out the errant flames springing back to life here and there.

Viggo stared, his pulse racing so fast he felt fairly dizzy at the overwhelming power the mage was displaying.

Evander swayed.

Viggo caught him before he collapsed. “I’ve got you!”

Evander managed a weak smile and clutched his arm.

“Thanks.” He straightened on trembling legs. “I think I might have overdone it a bit.”

Viggo swallowed, his mouth dry. “Just a bit.”

His gaze roamed the shocking scene around them. Though smoke still clouded the air, the fire that had threatened to engulf the slums had died out.

He chuckled.

“What?” Evander said, puzzled.

“I think we’ll have to call this one the Great Mud Bath of the 1800s.”

The dirt Evander had used to put out the blaze had mixed with the water still soaking people, buildings, and the ground alike, turning everything to sludge.

Finn was cursing and spitting mud out of his mouth down below.

Strangled laughter left Evander.

With the immediate danger passed, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. Viggo observed the scorched buildings before focusing a frown at the church.

This had been no random attack.

“It was a trap,” Evander said quietly, reading his mind. “An anonymous letter was sent to the Met this afternoon. It was a setup to lure us here. To lure me here.”

Viggo clenched his jaw as he met the mage’s gaze.

“Why? What were they after?"

“The vial.”

Viggo stared, nonplussed. “What vial?”

Evander grimaced. “Oh. I didn’t tell you about the vial.” He paused. “To be fair, it’s evidence in an active murder case, so it’s not as if I could talk openly about it anyway.”

Viggo sighed at his defensive tone.

“I’m not going to blame you for doing your job, Evander.”

Relief brightened Evander’s eyes. Viggo wanted to kiss him then.

Evander faltered and chewed his lip.

“Those devices you used. The fog and that thing that disrupted their magic. Where did you get them?”

Viggo tensed, acutely aware of the weight of the pouch against his chest. He’d known this conversation was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“ Nightshade has—connections,” he said carefully. “Ways of acquiring things most people can’t get their hands on.”

Evander narrowed his eyes. “They’re illegal,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

Viggo met his gaze steadily. “Yes and no,” he admitted. “They’re not officially classed as criminal artefacts under the laws of this land.” He paused. “Let’s just say they’ve saved the lives of Nightshade agents more times than I can count. In our line of work, we can't afford to be defenceless against magic.”

He expected anger or at least disappointment. But Evander just looked tired.

“I understand,” the mage said softly. “I may not like it, but...I understand.”

Viggo felt something in his chest loosen at those words. He cupped Evander’s face gently.

“Thank you.”

Their tender moment was interrupted by the arrival of Rufus, looking harried and smoke-stained as he stomped down a path that was no longer there. The inspector froze in his tracks at the sight of the mud-stained slums.

“Did you use your earth magic?!” His shocked gaze moved to Evander and Viggo. He stiffened, eyes shrinking to accusing slits. “Why is he holding you?”

Evander flushed and moved out of Viggo’s arms. Viggo released him reluctantly and frowned at the inspector.

“Thanks for coming to help, Viggo,” he said sarcastically. “I really appreciate you saving my ass back there.”

“What?” Confusion wrinkled Rufus’s brow.

Evander sighed.

The inspector finally understood Viggo’s jibe and had the grace to look contrite.

“Oh. Yes, er, thanks.” Suspicion clouded Rufus’s face all over again. “Why are you here anyway?”

Viggo cursed under his breath.

Evander intervened. “What’s our status?”

“Most of the mages escaped,” Rufus said grimly. “But we managed to capture two of the ones they were controlling.”

Surprise jolted Viggo. “You did?”

Evander stared. “How?”

“Their shadow manipulation wasn’t enough to make all of them vanish. The pair we’ve taken into custody reappeared after you left the building. They’re unconscious, but alive.”

Viggo’s scalp prickled at the name of the dark magic ability the mages had used. It was clear Evander and Rufus had come across it before in their line of work.

“What of our men?” Evander asked tensely.

“There are no serious injuries among them, thank God.” The inspector blew out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“And Constable Weir?”

Rufus’s expression softened a little at the concern clouding Evander’s face.

“He’ll be fine once he sees a healer. Those cuts might leave scars though.”

“Better he lives with scars than be six feet under,” Evander muttered. “Have Griffiths take the mages back to headquarters.” A muscle twitched in his cheek. “And make sure no one touches the cursed gems on their neck. I want Mrs. Scarborough to examine those devices as soon as possible."

A heavy silence fell between them as the sun began to set over the scarred buildings of the slum, casting their shadows across the church yard.

Viggo could almost see the wheels turning in Evander's mind, piecing together the puzzle of what had happened here.

“We need to regroup,” Evander said in a preoccupied tone. “This incident changes everything. We're dealing with something far more dangerous and coordinated than we initially thought.”

Unease tightened Viggo’s gut at his words.

“You suspect there’s an organisation behind this?”

Evander hesitated before bobbing his head, his expression troubled.

“Possibly. Or someone extremely determined who has a definite objective in mind. One that goes well beyond murdering a Charm Weaver.” Frustration underscored his voice. “What that goal is we don’t yet know.”

“I’ll have our men secure the area and take statements from witnesses who might know what went on in that church,” Rufus grunted.

Viggo frowned. “What's your next move?”

“We go back to the beginning.” Evander looked from Viggo to Rufus, his jaw setting in a hard line. “Alastair Millbrook’s workshop. There has to be something we missed there, some clue as to what that vial is and why they want it so badly.”

The mage hesitated a moment before squaring his shoulders and turning to Viggo.

“We’ll need all the help we can get. If you’re willing, I’d like to bring Nightshade in on this officially.”

Viggo’s pulse quickened. Evander’s plan suited his objectives of finding out who had hurt Magnus.

Still, he was surprised by the offer.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

Evander nodded solemnly. “I’m sure.” A faint smile curved his lips. “Whatever’s coming, I want you and Nightshade on our side.”

Viggo’s stomach flip-flopped at his words. In that moment, he felt a fierce surge of...something. Pride. Affection. Desire.

Whatever it was, it made him want to pull Evander close and never let go.

Instead, he settled for a small nod.

Rufus’s gaze danced between Evander and Viggo, evidently picking up on the cozy vibe and not liking it one bit from the scowl that quickly darkened his face.

A commotion at the end of the street had them turning.

Viggo grimaced. “Looks like the cavalry is finally here.”

The dying light glinted off the shiny brass and copper tanks atop the Phoenix Brigade’s horse-drawn, magically-enhanced, steam fire engine, the runes and symbols on the body of the vehicle glowing and humming with arcane energy. The Salamander Corps’ smaller Special Unit carriage was behind it, along with a slew of police wagons.

Evander rubbed the back of his neck and sighed ruefully.

“Want to ride to the Met with us?” he asked Viggo. “We’re going to need a statement from you and Solomon.”

“Alright.” To his everlasting surprise, Viggo realised the prospect of visiting Scotland Yard again did not fill him with apprehension, unlike yesterday.

He spoke briefly to Finn before he and Solomon climbed in the carriage that had brought Evander and Rufus to the church.

Viggo was entertaining the idea of asking Evander if he wanted to have supper later as they approached Scotland Yard, when the mage leaned forward jerkily and let loose a string of curse words so colourful it made Rufus suck in air and Solomon’s eyes bulge.

“What is it?” Viggo said tensely, senses on alert once more.

Evander did not reply.

Viggo followed the mage’s gaze and saw what had captured his dismayed stare. Coldness gripped him.

A carriage stood outside the entrance of the Met.

It was a grand, state landau painted a deep blue, with a gilt trim and elegant wheels with spokes picked out in gold leaf. Four white horses with manes and tails braided with blue and gold ribbons stood at the front, their leather harnesses adorned with brass fittings polished to a mirror shine.

Even though Viggo had never seen the likes of it before, he recognised the coat of arms emblazoned on the vehicle’s doors.

It was a carriage belonging to the royal family.