Page 24 of Arcane Entanglement

Shaw rocked back on her heels. “I did indeed,” she beamed.

Rufus eyed her suspiciously. “Please tell me those wayward fingers of yours went nowhere near whatever evidence you unearthed?”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you should place a bit more faith in your juniors, Inspector.” She exhaled noisily at Rufus’s doubtful stare. “I promise I did nothing untoward.”

“What is it you found?” Evander said.

“Some kind of purple powder,” Shaw replied as they started down the passage. “There was a trace of it on the tree suspect number three made contact with, as per your report. I’ve handed it to Mr. Brown.”

They made their way to the fourth floor of the south wing, where the holding cells designed to handle criminals and objects of a magical nature were situated. Like the rest of the imposing Gothic fortress that housed the headquarters of the Metropolitan Police, the rooms were heavily warded to protect against physical and magical attacks.

“How’s the prisoner, Sergeant Dwyer?” Evander said when they entered the anteroom.

The officer supervising the lockup that day rose from his desk, his expression weary. “I’m afraid he’s still refusing to talk, your Grace. Had he not begged for mercy like he did last night, I would have wagered he was a mute.”

Dwyer led them into the area with the holding cells. He inserted an enchanted key in the lock of the fortified room where the prisoner was being held, removed the wards on the bolts with the Met issued ring on his finger, and opened the door.

The Brute jumped up from the stone bench he’d been sitting on when they entered the cell, his foot rattling the tray containing his untouched food. He backed away until he struck the far wall and hunched down so as to make himself a smaller target, his eyes wide with fear behind the arms he’d raised to defend himself.

Surprise jolted Evander. He could see bruises on the Brute’s chest through his torn shirt. He cut his eyes to Dwyer.

“Did someone beat him?”

Dwyer shook his head vehemently at his cold tone. “No, your Grace. No one has touched the man. He wouldn’t allow a doctor to examine his wounds, let alone a healer.”

Evander pursed his lips and studied the Brute with a frown. Now that he saw him in the light of day, he was amazed he’d managed to stop him in his tracks last night.

The man was a hulking six foot eight, with a broad muscular frame and thick, trunk-like legs. His skin was a rich olive and his thick, black hair curled over his ears, framing soulful brown eyes that seemed to carry the weight of a troubled past. A thin, white scar ran from his left eyebrow to his cheek and a fresh cut scored the underside of his forearm, courtesy of Ginny’s blade.

“Who did that to you?” Evander asked curtly. He pointed at the injuries on the Brute’s body.

The Brute blinked. He unfroze after a moment and slowly straightened, as if the slightest wrong movement might bring about his downfall. He hesitated before indicating Evander with a trembling finger.

Evander blinked. “Oh.”

Remorse knotted his stomach. He found himself the focus of stares and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“It must be from last night, when I fought him.”

Shaw wrinkled her nose. “What did you use, your Grace? A battering ram?”

Evander caught Rufus’s narrow-eyed look.

“We mean you no harm,” he told the Brute, injecting some warmth into his voice. “All we want to know is who you are and why you attacked my carriage last night.”

The Brute was silent for so long Evander began to wonder if they should get an enchanter to influence his mind and have him comply with their questions. It was a method he loathed using and had only ever done so a couple of times in the past, and as a last resort at that.

“I—” The Brute stopped and swallowed heavily. “I will talk. But only if you bring Viggo here.”

Evander’s pulse quickened at the name. Dwyer cursed. Shaw’s eyes rounded.

“Viggo?” Rufus asked harshly. “As in Viggo Stonewall?!”

The Brute licked his lips and nodded.

Chapter12

The night mistrising from the narrow, wet streets Evander and Ginny treaded carried the unpleasant smell of stagnant water from the nearby river and the acrid stink of chemical and dye runoffs from the numerous factories and workshops lining the embankment.