Arcane Entanglement (The Mage and His Brute #1)

Chapter 48

Evander pinched the bridge of his nose and sat back in his chair.

It was his fourth day writing up reports concerning the investigation into Alastair Millbrook’s murder and its unexpected outcome. Not only had he had to submit the official paperwork due to Winterbourne, he’d also been asked to pen an account for the Ministry of Arcane Affairs and the War Office.

Viggo’s going to be furious.

He’d met the Brute in his official capacity as the lead investigating officer on the case two days ago, when he and Rufus had taken his statement. Though Viggo had acted out his role as the head of Nightshade superbly, he’d been unable to mask his desire for Evander at times, something which Rufus had noted with a pinched expression.

Evander’s crotch grew uncomfortably tight as he recalled the way Viggo’s leg had brushed tantalisingly against his thigh under the table. Heat warmed his cheeks at the memory of the erection he’d sported throughout most of their meeting.

Thank goodness Rufus didn’t notice.

Evander worked for another hour before putting his quill down and pushing away from his desk. He walked over to the window of his office in Scotland Yard and looked broodingly out over the Thames. His gaze found the blackened ruins downriver, as it had done many a time these past few days.

The events that had led to Renwick’s death played through his mind like scenes from a nightmare. The battle at Charing Cross Station. The chase across the Thames and the southern embankment. And their final confrontation in that ill-fated warehouse.

Sleep had not come easily to him since that day. Every time he closed his eyes, he recalled the searing light of the explosion and the heart-stopping moment when he thought he’d lost Viggo.

They were still no closer to finding out the identity of Renwick’s master, the true architect of the ghastly plan behind the Blood Siphon . In that respect at least, the dark mage’s death was something Evander had come to regret. Still, there was no guarantee Renwick would have revealed his secrets even under the influence of a powerful enchanter.

A knock at the door drew him back to the present. He turned from the window.

“Come in.”

Rufus entered, looking as weary as Evander felt. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and his usually immaculate uniform was rumpled from hours of work.

“The report’s in.” The inspector dropped a thick folder on the desk and sat down heavily in the chair opposite. “You’re not going to like this. Caine Renwick was a professor at the Royal Institute for the Arcane.”

Evander’s pulse quickened. He moved to the desk and opened the folder.

The Royal Institute was his alma mater, the place where he’d learned to hone his magical abilities and control his immense power. The thought of someone like Renwick teaching there made him sick to the stomach.

“He specialised in advanced Elemental Magic?” Evander said tightly as he read the file.

“Yes, with a focus on wind magic.” Rufus sighed. “He was quite respected in his field, apparently. His colleagues describe him as brilliant, if a bit intense.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s more. It seems there were a few rumours involving Renwick and some of his students. They were apparently brushed under the carpet by the higher-ups in the institute. Word on the street is money may have changed hands to silence the students’ families.”

Evander straightened. “What kind of rumours?”

Rufus hesitated. “The kind involving dark magic. Wind magic may not be the only thing he taught at the institute.”

Evander stared blindly at the report, his mind racing.

How many young mages did Renwick influence with his twisted ideologies? And how deep does the corruption run?

“This is worse than we thought.” Evander sat down heavily. “If Renwick was able to hide in plain sight at the institute, who knows how many others might be doing the same.”

Before Rufus could respond, another knock sounded at the door. This time, it was Elias McAndrew and Vincent Brown. Both men could barely contain their excitement as they entered the room.

Philippa Scarborough trailed in behind them, concern etched across her normally serene face.

Surprise jolted Evander. He and Rufus rose hastily.

“Mrs. Scarborough,” Evander greeted. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, your Grace, Inspector.” The curse-breaker dipped her head. “I wish my visit was taking place under better circumstances.”

Unease pooled in Evander’s belly at her grim tone.

“I shall let Mr. McAndrew and Mr. Brown talk first,” Mrs. Scarborough said crisply.

“Your Grace,” McAndrew started without preamble. “We’ve completed our preliminary analysis of the wreckage of the device recovered from the warehouse.”

“It’s absolutely fascinating, your Grace.” Brown’s eyes gleamed. “The level of magical engineering involved in that contraption is—well, it’s beyond anything either of us have seen before. Whoever designed it is a genius.”

“Get to the point,” Rufus said impatiently.

McAndrew cleared his throat. “Renwick’s device was designed not just to produce a powerful explosion the likes of which we’ve probably never seen before, it also acted as a channel to focus vast amounts of magical energy. It’s how he was able to manifest abilities normally reserved for Archmages, just as you described in your account of the incident at the station and in the warehouse, your Grace.”

Evander’s heart thrummed heavily.

“How is that possible?” he said numbly.

“ Midnight Obsidian ,” Brown said animatedly, oblivious to the dread chilling Evander’s blood.

Confusion clouded Rufus’s face.

“What’s Midnight Obsidian ?”

It was Mrs. Scarborough who replied.

“It’s an incredibly rare and dangerous substance. Most magic users go their entire lives without ever laying eyes on it. It has the unique property of absorbing and amplifying magical energy.”

McAndrew nodded vigorously. “It’s like the mythical Philosopher’s stone. Rumour has it you can only find Midnight Obsidian in remote caves in Western Siberia.”

“The stone in Renwick’s ring and the crystals powering his machine were made from the stuff,” Brown added. He glanced at Mrs. Scarborough. “As were the cursed gems used to control Magnus Graveoak and the mages taken into the custody of Scotland Yard at the church in the East End.”

Tension knotted Evander’s shoulders as he processed these disturbing revelations.

“So, Renwick wasn’t actually as powerful as he appeared. He was using Midnight Obsidian to boost his abilities?”

“Precisely,” McAndrew confirmed. The artificer hesitated, his expression awkward. “Make no mistake, your Grace. Even without Midnight Obsidian , Renwick was a formidable mage. To control that much power without being consumed by it—” He shared an uneasy look with Brown. “Well, it speaks to his considerable skill.”

Brown bobbed his head in agreement.

Evander clenched his jaw as he recalled the overwhelming dark energy that had emanated from Renwick during their final confrontation.

His master taught him well .

“There’s more, your Grace,” McAndrew continued reluctantly. “It appears what Mr. Stonewall did indeed stop the machine before it was fully activated. Had the two of you been unsuccessful in your attempts to stop Renwick…” The artificer trailed off.

“The explosion might have levelled half of London,” Evander finished grimly.

A tense hush befell them at the thought of the dire fate they’d narrowly avoided.

“I fear I bring worse news, your Grace,” Mrs. Scarborough said quietly.

Evander met her steady stare warily.

“The power used to control Magnus Graveoak and those mages is a form of Blood Magic known as Sanguine Subjugation .”

Evander went deathly still.

Brown cursed. McAndrew’s eyes rounded.

Rufus blanched.

“ Blood Magic ?” The inspector glanced at Evander. “But that’s?—!”

“Forbidden magic,” Evander said in a hard voice.

Mrs. Scarborough nodded gravely. “It’s one of the darkest forms of magic known to exist. The ability to manipulate life force and vitality. To use blood to fuel powerful spells and even control the bodies of others. Blood Magic was considered taboo since it was often associated with dark rituals and sacrifices. There has been no known practitioner of the art in the last two hundred years.”

Rufus swallowed. “And this— Sanguine Subjugation is similar?!”

“Yes.” Mrs. Scarborough’s jaw tightened. “ Sanguine Subjugation allows the caster to completely dominate the will of another person, turning them into nothing more than a puppet. It requires a drop of the victim’s blood, which is magically bound into the cursed gem used to control them. Just forcibly inserting the gemstone in someone’s flesh would be enough to achieve that.”

Rufus swore under his breath.

“That’s—barbaric,” Brown muttered.

Evander’s chest tightened as he relived the moment Renwick had buried the gem in Viggo’s flesh. The wound on the Brute’s neck had already healed, courtesy of his powers of recovery and the Met’s healers.

“As long as the cursed gem is intact and the matching stone is in the possession of the caster, they have complete control over their victim’s actions.” Mrs. Scarborough frowned. “The fact that Mr. Stonewall was able to resist the power of Sanguine Subjugation and break Caine Renwick’s control over his mind is nothing short of miraculous.”

Evander’s mouth went dry. Not for the first time, he experienced a sense of profound relief and gratitude that Viggo had been born a powerful Brute.

“I hear he achieved more than one miracle that day,” Brown grunted with a proud smile. “He stopped a runaway train with his bare hands and he survived that explosion.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure Mr. Stonewall will get a medal for all his ridiculous achievements,” Rufus said irritably.

Everyone stared at him, Evander with a scowl.

Evander suppressed an annoyed sigh and turned to Mrs. Scarborough.

“Is there any way to protect against this magic?”

The curse-breaker shook her head. “Not that I know of, your Grace.” She met Evander’s stare steadily. “The best defence is to never allow your blood to fall into the wrong hands.”