Page 34 of Arcane Entanglement

“Six foot eight, curly dark hair, brown eyes.”

A name danced immediately through Viggo’s mind.

“He has a scar running from his left eyebrow to his cheek,” Ginny gestured.

Jack froze. So did Solomon and Finn.

Viggo’s stomach knotted on a wave of dread, his suspicion solidifying into certainty.

“Magnus Graveoak.” He exchanged a stunned look with his uncle and his two right-hand men.

Evander straightened. “So, heisan acquaintance of yours?” he said sharply.

“He disappeared two years ago,” Viggo said slowly, frustration underscoring his voice. “Used to work on the docks. His employer turned up one day, looking for him. Owed him a whole month’s wage.” He fisted his hands.

He and Magnus had met shortly after he’d fled to London following the incident that had seen his entire village and his family massacred in a single night of terrifying violence by a group of magic zealots led by an Archmage. It was in the slums that Viggo first befriended Solomon and Finn, the two boys similarly orphaned by the dire circumstances of their birth.

As children growing up in the poorest districts of the capital, they’d had each other’s back and quickly bonded over their shared struggles and their hatred for the magic society that ruled their lives and fates.

Magnus had matured before all of them, his rapid physical growth a sign of the Brute he would become. As such, he was often their protector and used his size and strength to defend Viggo, Solomon, Finn, and other weaker children from bullies and predators. Yet, despite his intimidating size and appearance, Magnus harboured the most gentle of souls.

Viggo closed his eyes briefly.

Thank God he’s alive!

Jack pressed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Nightshadehas been searching for Magnus,” the older man told Evander and Ginny quietly. “He’s a good friend of Viggo’s from their days growing up in London.”

“We couldn’t find any traces of him.” Viggo rubbed his hands down his face, relief and remorse tightening his throat in equal measure. “Now you’re telling me he’s been working with dark mages?!”

“I find that hard to believe.” Solomon frowned. “The Magnus we know wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“We thought for sure he was at the bottom of the river,” Finn muttered.

Everyone looked at him.

The Irishman shrugged. “What?”

Viggo took a deep breath and finally met Evander’s gaze. Determination hardened his voice when he spoke.

“Take me to him.”

Eight hours later saw Viggo standing across the road from the fortified walls enclosing the grounds and daunting fortress that housed the headquarters of the Met.

A nightmarish construction of black stone and reinforced glass and steel windows said to be resistant to brute force and magic attacks, the Gothic stronghold overlooked Victoria Embankment and the river.

“You sure about this, boss?” Solomon said warily as he gazed at the imposing buildings rising out of the early morning mist.

They were already earning suspicious stares from the constables trickling through the gates for the shift change.

Solomon might have been able to blend in the background, but there was no hiding Viggo’s stature or his true nature.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

They’d left Finn in charge of the guild’s affairs that morning. The Irishman might have a mischievous streak a mile long, but he had a remarkably good head on his shoulders when it came to running the show in Viggo and Solomon’s absence.

Jack had wanted to accompany them. Alas, with fresh ships arrived in the docks that morning, he would be too busy tending to cargo manifests and taking ownership of the wares he’d arranged to distribute. Hidden among them would be secret messages and reports from guild members currently on the continent.