Arcane Entanglement (The Mage and His Brute #1)

Chapter 47

The world spun dizzyingly around Evander as he fell backward from the building.

No! Viggo!

Cool air chilled his flesh and ruffled his hair as his stunned gaze met the Brute’s fleetingly.

“I love you,” Viggo mouthed with a sad smile.

Then the dark waters of the Thames were rushing up to meet Evander. He plunged into the river, the cold driving the breath from his lungs.

Evander floundered as he sank, disoriented for a moment. Desperation squeezed his chest, sharpening his senses and allaying the panic threatening to overwhelm him.

I have to get back! I have to help him!

Water magic bloomed around Evander, creating an air pocket in which he could breathe. He swung his arms and kicked towards the surface, wind forming currents that aided his ascent from the icy embrace of the river.

He emerged with a gasp and spun around where he bobbed in the water.

The current had carried him a short way downriver.

He could see the warehouse some hundred feet ahead and to his left, the building dark and ominous against the twilight sky.

It disappeared in a violent flash that scorched Evander’s vision.

The whoomph that accompanied the detonation made the air tremble and the surrounding buildings quake in their foundations.

The shockwave hit Evander like a physical blow, driving him back under the water. By the time he surfaced again, the warehouse was nothing more than a smouldering wreck.

“No,” Evander mumbled.

His heart felt like it might burst from his chest as he swam desperately for the shore, wind and water magic carrying him there faster than his limbs could.

His feet touched the muddy bottom of the river after what felt like an eternity.

Evander staggered onto the embankment, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. He stumbled towards the burning wreckage of the warehouse, ears ringing and blood pounding in his skull.

“Viggo!” he shouted. “Viggo, where are you?!”

Smoke and dust choked the air as Evander picked his way through the debris, heedless of the flames still licking at the ruins and the sour stink of corrupt magic lingering in the air. He came to his senses and invoked his water magic to create a shower that rapidly doused the pockets of fire.

The Met’s enchanted whistles echoed shrilly in the distance. A horde of officers were running along the footbridge towards the south bank.

Evander ignored them and wielded his wind and earth magic in a desperate search for the man who had come to mean the world to him, carefully lifting beams and sections of collapsed brickwork.

He has to be alive! Dear God, please make it so that he survived this!

Evander’s eyes stung, whether from the smoke or unshed tears, he couldn’t say. A sound made him freeze a moment later. His head snapped up.

A beam groaned as it was heaved from underneath, some fifteen feet ahead.

Evander nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw the large hands pushing it up.

“Viggo!”

He was at the Brute’s side in a heartbeat and used magic to move the debris trapping him.

Viggo looked up at him from what remained of one of the chimneys. His face was covered in dust and soot and his hair was a mess, but he was otherwise miraculously unscathed.

The smile the Brute gave Evander was the most beautiful thing the mage had ever seen in his entire life.

“Well, now I know where to hide if a building explodes around me,” Viggo said wryly.

“Viggo,” Evander mumbled. His legs collapsed under him.

Viggo caught him as he fell to his knees.

“You idiot,” Evander said thickly, tears streaming down his face.

Viggo gently embraced him.

“I know,” he whispered in Evander’s hair, his voice trembling.

“You ginormous buffoon.” Evander’s tone hardened.

Viggo sighed. “Alright, I deserved that one too.”

Evander pushed him away and punched him in the chest. “You utter knucklehead! Why, I ought to?—!”

The rest of his protest was swallowed by Viggo’s lips.

Evander stiffened before shuddering and melting into the Brute’s embrace, emotion choking his breath.

It was some time before they came up for air.

Evander cradled Viggo’s face and stared into his eyes, his anger and grief all but forgotten.

“How did you know that would work?”

Viggo grimaced. “I didn’t. I remembered what Millbrook’s notes said about the device he’d made for Renwick becoming unstable if it was used under the wrong circumstances. I just hoped the gem and the disruptor rods in my possession would overload that bastard’s machine.” He glanced around, his expression sobering. “Looks like they performed better than I expected.”

Evander frowned as he followed Viggo’s gaze. “Renwick?”

“He’s not a Brute, so I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”

They discovered the dark mage’s body moments before Rufus arrived with a team of Met officers.

Renwick had been close to his diabolical machine when it’d exploded. The detonation had ripped through most of his left side and blown away half his skull. He stared at them from his remaining eye, pupil blown and unseeing.

A glint in the rubble next to the dead mage caught Viggo’s eye.

He crouched and picked up a fragment of the crystal vial.

“Damn.” The Brute’s jaw tightened. “I was hoping we could use this to track down Renwick’s master.”

Evander squatted beside him, his troubled gaze on Renwick’s slack face as he recalled all they had learned that day.

“That vial is a fake.”

Viggo’s head whipped around. “What?”

Evander met his stunned stare and shrugged. “I was hardly going to go around with the real thing once we discovered what they were after.”

“You crafty mage,” Viggo murmured, admiration underscoring his voice.

Evander smiled faintly. “This crafty mage is all yours now, Brute.”

Viggo blinked before visibly brightening. “So, the case is over?”

Evander swallowed a chuckle at his eager expression. “For now.”

Viggo’s gaze turned scorching. He clasped Evander’s shoulders and leaned in for another kiss. Evander tilted his head, as eager to surrender to the man who had captured his heart as Viggo was to claim him.

They were interrupted by a shout.

“Evander!”

Rufus was clumsily climbing a mound of debris towards them, his eyes shining with relief.

“Damn it all to hell,” Viggo groaned against Evander’s brow.

Evander sighed and pulled away. “We have all night,” he murmured soothingly.

Viggo scowled. “No, we don’t. You’ll probably be stuck writing up reports in Scotland Yard for the next couple of days at least.”

Evander’s heart sank. “Blast it. You’re right.”

They rose to their feet as Rufus reached them.

The inspector surprised Evander by yanking him into a bone-crushing hug in front of the Met officers who’d turned up with him.

“Are you alright?!” Rufus pulled back, his worried gaze roaming Evander’s face before taking in the destroyed warehouse and the smoking debris. “What happened? What was that explosion? Where’s Ren—?! Oh.” The inspector sobered.

He’d spotted the dark mage.

“He’s dead,” Rufus mumbled numbly.

“We’ll make a copper out of you yet,” Viggo muttered nastily.

Rufus looked over with a frown. “I forgot you were still here.”

Evander narrowed his eyes.

Viggo ignored his warning look.

“I swear, if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re Evander’s friend, I would throw you in the river right now,” he growled at Rufus.

Evander’s mouth pressed to a thin line.

Rufus bristled and squared his shoulders. “Oh really? I’d like to see you?—!”

They both gasped when cold water splashed down on their heads.

Evander retracted his magic and glared at them.

“What was that for?” Viggo muttered.

Rufus looked equally hurt.

“It’s common practice to throw water on fighting dogs,” Evander said in clipped tones.

“You tell them, your Grace!” someone shouted.

They turned.

Shaw was beaming at them from the bottom of the rubble.

“What are you doing here, Miss Shaw?” Rufus said sharply.

“I’m a forensic mage, sir,” Shaw replied brightly. “I’m forensicing.”