Arcane Entanglement (The Mage and His Brute #1)

Chapter 38

The halls of the Arcane Forensics Division hummed with activity around Evander as he navigated them with Rufus the next day. Mages and alchemists hurried past, arms laden with scrolls, artefacts, and mysterious bottles.

A few startled and stumbled at the sight of Evander.

He resigned himself to their gawking stares.

The rumours about him being an Archmage were now firmly rooted in London society following more articles detailing the impossible feat he’d achieved at the church two days past. Not only were they claiming he’d saved hundreds of lives, police officers and thralls alike, they also incorrectly stated he’d been summoned to the palace to be congratulated by the Queen.

Evander swallowed a sigh.

I bet Victoria choked on her crumpet when she read that.

He’d pondered Viggo’s silence on the matter of his visit to the palace before the Brute had left his home last night.

“I gather there are some things you can’t tell me yet,” Viggo had said in response to his question, a faint smile hovering on his lips where he’d stood on the doorstep of the townhouse. “I’ll wait until you’re ready.”

The Brute’s confident expression had almost made Evander throw caution to the wind and pull him back inside the study so they could play out his filthy promise.

Ginny had made an impromptu visit later that night, on her way back from dinner with Lord Fairfax. Evander had related all that had passed since their last meeting while they’d enjoyed a nightcap, being careful to omit his visit to the palace. To his relief, Ginny hadn’t probed him on the subject.

“ Nightshade is officially working with Scotland Yard?” she’d said, wide-eyed.

“Yes.”

She’d stared out the window of his study then.

Evander had followed her gaze, puzzled. “What are you looking at?”

Ginny had pursed her lips. “I’m checking for flying pigs.”

“Har-har,” Evander had grumbled.

He and Rufus approached the Occult Research department presently.

A harried-looking man in his sixties nearly collided with them outside it, his arms full of ancient tomes.

“Ah! Your Grace, Inspector.” Quentin Inkwell brightened, his owlish eyes huge behind his enchanted spectacles. “I was just coming to see you.”

“We received your message,” Evander said cautiously.

“Have you discovered what the symbols on Millbrook’s body mean?” Rufus asked without preamble.

Inkwell beamed. “Indeed I have. Please, follow me to my office.”

Surprise jolted Evander. He’d been certain the symbols had meant nothing.

The interior of Inkwell’s room was exactly what one might expect of an occult researcher’s workplace. A labyrinth of towering bookshelves, arcane symbols scrawled on paperwork scattered upon every available surface, and the perpetual scent of old parchment and magic runes.

“Come.” Inkwell dumped the tomes he’d been holding on a chair already creaking under some dozen grimoires and headed briskly for his desk in the alcove next to a window. “Let me show you my findings.”

Evander traded a wary look with Rufus. It seemed they might be about to unearth another clue that could lead them to Millbrook’s murderer.

Inkwell sat down and spread the documents on the surface of the table.

Evander studied the occult researcher’s packed handwriting. Beside them were the transcription of the runes found on the victim.

“It's quite remarkable, really,” Inkwell said. “After extensive research and cross-referencing with no less than seventeen obscure grimoires, I can say with utmost certainty that these symbols are?—”

Rufus leaned forward expectantly, his hand finding the back of Inkwell’s chair. Evander moved closer, his interest equally piqued.

“—complete and utter nonsense.”

Rufus’s hand slipped, almost sending him tumbling to the ground.

Evander blinked while the inspector cursed softly under his breath.

“I beg your pardon?”

Inkwell beamed. “Gobbledygook, your Grace. Gibberish. A magical wild goose chase, if you will.” He waved his hand at the paperwork, almost gleeful at the revelation. “Whoever carved those symbols was either woefully ignorant of true arcane script or?—”

“—deliberately trying to mislead us,” Evander finished. His tone turned flinty. “So, it was a diversion after all.”

Inkwell nodded. “Precisely, your Grace. A most cunning deception, I must say. It’s rare to see such intricate fabrication of arcane symbology. Why, if I hadn’t spent the last three decades studying obscure magical alphabets, I might never have?—”

“Thank you, Mr. Inkwell,” Evander cut in, sensing the start of a lengthy tangent. “Your insights are invaluable as always.”

The mage’s mind raced as they left the occult researcher’s office and made their way to the Artificers’ lab.

“That Millbrook’s killer went to such lengths to misdirect us tells me time is of the essence in finding out what their goals are.”

“I agree,” Rufus said grimly. “Let’s hope that bunch of lunatics has better news for us.”

The Artificers’ lab was a stark contrast to Quentin's cluttered office. Here, everything was meticulously organised, from the gleaming instruments and machines atop the surfaces, to the carefully labelled artefacts lining shelves and cabinets against the walls.

Alas, the environment did not reflect the personalities of the people who worked there. The reputation of the AFD’s artificers for being crazed eccentrics had even reached the continent, much to the Commissioner’s ire.

Evander was surprised to see Brown when they entered the room.

The alchemist wore goggles as he stood beside a man in his fifties fiddling with the knobs of a machine that was sending lightning through a convoluted glass and metal mechanism to a clear, cylindrical chamber. The crystal vial pulsed with a faint blue light inside it where it was held between two clamps.

The hairs on the back of Evander’s neck stood on end at the magic crackling the air around the object.

Brown noticed them first. He removed his goggles, his expression brightening.

“Your Grace, Inspector. I assume you’re here about the vial?”

The gleam in the alchemist’s eyes told Evander they’d found something.

“Have you discovered what it is?”

Elias McAndrew, the chief Artificer, turned off the device he’d been manipulating. The cloud of magic around the crystal vial dissipated.

“Long time no see, your Grace.” McAndrew removed his protective glasses and pinned them with an excited stare. “I must say, whoever made this thing is a prodigy.”

“How about you tell us what it actually is, first?” Rufus asked impatiently.

McAndrew grinned and opened the compartment holding the vial. He removed it from the brackets and handed it to Evander.

“As near as we can tell, it’s some kind of conduit for raw energy.”

A chill danced down Evander’s spine as he stared at the object warming his palm.

The artificer and the alchemist continued speaking, oblivious to his growing dread.

“The liquid inside is a stabilising agent of some sort,” Brown explained. “What it’s meant for won’t be clear until we see the device it’s intended for.”

“Device?” Rufus repeated.

McAndrew nodded. “This vial is a component of something larger.”

Evander’s pulse quickened. “Some kind of artefact?”

McAndrew and Brown shared a glance.

“That’s our best guess, yes,” Brown said.

A troubled light darkened McAndrew’s eyes for a moment.

Evander lowered his brows. “What is it you’re not telling us?”

McAndrew hesitated, his gaze flitting to the vial. “I suspect whatever the device is, it can potentially harness massive amounts of energy.”

The coldness gripping Evander intensified.

“What kind of energy?” Rufus said warily.

McAndrew’s face turned chagrined. “That I do not yet know.”

Frustration gnawed at Evander. He thanked the artificer and the alchemist and left the lab with Rufus, his mind spinning with a dozen thoughts. He didn’t notice Rufus was talking to him until the inspector laid a hand on his arm.

“Evander? Did you hear me?”

Evander startled distractedly. “Sorry, what?”

Rufus’s brow furrowed with concern. “I said we should tell Winterbourne. We can’t just sit on this information.”

Evander hesitated. “Alright.”

The idea taking root inside him solidified as they made their way through the west wing of Scotland Yard. Of all the options he was weighing up, it was their quickest alternative to drawing out their enemy. Evander waited until they reached Winterbourne’s office before putting his plan forward.

Rufus gaped at him as if he’d proposed they parade naked in front of the Queen.

“You can’t be serious!” he spluttered.

“I agree with Inspector Grayson,” Winterbourne said grimly. “Spreading the rumour that you possess the vial on your person is too dangerous.”

“It’s time we stopped reacting and started acting,” Evander argued. “Doing this means we draw them out on our terms.”

“It’s too risky,” Rufus protested. “You’ll be painting a target on your back!”

“The target’s already there, Rufus,” Evander snapped “They’ve been after me ever since we found Millbrook’s body. At least this way, we get to choose the battlefield.” He fisted his hands. “I won’t have them endanger more innocent officers just to get to me.”

They were still arguing when a commotion rose outside the commander’s office. The door burst open, revealing Winterbourne’s flustered secretary scurrying behind a determined Viggo.