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Story: Stolen Magic

“Tell us exactly what the room was like when you walked in and what you found.”

The forensic mage hesitated and glanced at Cecillia.

“I believe Professor Harrington will prove of help to us in this investigation,” Evander reassured the forensic mage smoothly.He arched an eyebrow at Cecillia.“I take it you also suspect foul play was involved in Whitley’s disappearance?”

Cecillia hesitated before nodding.

“It’s not like Walter to disappear like this.He is very close to his wife.He would have told her if he intended to travel somewhere for a while.”

Chapter7

It was almostmidday by the time the hansom cab Viggo had hired pulled to a stop in Belgrave Square.The Georgian townhouse belonging to Lord Fairfax dominated the corner of the quadrangle, its grandeur asserting itself even among the distinguished residences of one of London’s most fashionable districts.Viggo disembarked from the cab with Solomon and looked around the square.

An elegant carriage rolled past, lacquered wood gleaming in the sunlight and wheels clacking against the cobblestones.Well-dressed ladies and gentlemen strolled along the iron-fenced central garden across the road.A nanny supervised two children playing with hoops near the corner of the green space, their laughter carrying on the late autumn breeze.

Viggo’s face tightened.

Life here was as different from the slums of the East End as night was from day.

He turned to face the residence before them.

Three stories of white stucco rose against the crisp blue sky, the sunlight washing over the facade glinting off tall windows with dark ironwork.Stone steps led up to a portico flanked by classical columns and a black door with polished brass fittings.

Viggo adjusted his cravat as he and Solomon climbed the steps, still uncomfortable with the restrictive garment despite the quality of the tailoring.Before leavingNightshade,he’d changed into one of the new outfits he’d recently acquired.Finn had teased him mercilessly about his appearance before he’d left the guild, causing Solomon to smack him on the back of the head.

Still, Viggo was conscious that appearing presentable would not only gain them easier access to Lord Fairfax’s residence, it would be acknowledged as a sign of respect towards a nobleman who favoured thralls.

“Remember, we’re here to gather information, not make accusations.”

Solomon grunted in acknowledgement.“I’m aware of the delicacy required, Viggo.”He’d also changed into his best shirt and jacket.

Viggo knew the outfit hid at least half a dozen weapons.

“Just ensuring we’re of the same mind,” he told his right-hand man.“Your temper has been rather unpredictable lately.”

“My temper is perfectly predictable,” Solomon protested.“It flares when I encounter injustice, is all.”

Viggo sighed as they reached the door.He raised the gleaming brass knocker and let it fall with a resonant thud that seemed to echo across the square.

The door swung open a moment later, revealing a butler wearing immaculate livery and an expression of polite inquiry.To his credit, he did not immediately ask them to go to the servants’ entrance.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.How may I assist you?”

“Mr.Viggo Stonewall and Mr.Solomon Barden to see Lord Fairfax,” Viggo stated, his tone brooking no argument.“We’re associates of Lady Hartley.”

The mention of Ginny’s name had the desired effect.The butler’s demeanour shifted subtly from dismissive to attentive.

“One moment, please.If you could step inside while I determine if his Lordship is receiving visitors.”

The foyer they entered was a study in understated opulence.A crystal chandelier hung from a ceiling adorned with intricate plasterwork, the pendants casting prismatic patterns across marble floors so polished they reflected the antique console tables and the tasteful arrangements of fresh flowers atop them.

Solomon’s gaze swept the space, likely noting exits and potential obstacles should a hasty departure become necessary.It was a habit born of years spent navigating the treacherous waters of London’s underworld and one hard to get rid of.

The butler returned promptly.“His Lordship will see you in the library.This way, gentlemen.”

They followed him through corridors lined with paintings and antiquities that spoke of generations of wealth and taste.According toNightshade’s sources, Lord Fairfax had recently inherited the property from a wealthy, deceased relative.

The library was a warm and inviting space despite its splendour.Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined three walls, the shelves filled with leather-bound volumes whose spines gleamed in the light from the tall windows.A fire crackled in a marble hearth, taking the edge off the autumn chill.