Page 32

Evander woke to an empty bed the next morning.

He swallowed a stab of disappointment when his hand found the cool sheets beside him. Viggo must have left hours ago. He rose, crossed to the window, and parted the heavy curtains.

London had vanished beneath a dense blanket of fog.

The weather matched his mood as he dressed and made his way downstairs.

Hargrove was waiting for him with coffee and a plate of eggs and toast in the breakfast room.

“You were sleeping soundly, my Lord, so I did not bring you your morning tea,” the manservant informed him smoothly.

Evander took the seat Hargrove pulled out for him. “When did Viggo leave?”

“At dawn, my Lord. He asked me to tell you he had urgent business to attend to.”

Evander nodded. “Any messages?”

“One just arrived, my Lord.” Hargrove brought over the tray with the morning paper and post. “It’s from Comte Beaulieu.”

Evander put his napkin down, picked up the message, and unfolded the note.

The elegant handwriting it contained informed him that Leon intended to visit the Royal Institute early this morning to follow up on some observations he’d made in Whitley’s laboratory and the hidden chamber beneath it. The note concluded with a promise to meet Evander at Scotland Yard afterwards.

A strange sense of foreboding lifted the hairs on the back of Evander’s neck as he stared at Leon’s missive. He wrinkled his brow. Though there were officers stationed at the Institute, he didn’t like that Leon had gone there on his own.

I’m being overly paranoid.

Still, he pushed his chair back and rose to his feet.

“Please give my apologies to Cook, Jasper. I shall be skipping breakfast this morning.”

Concern clouded Hargrove’s face. “Is it that urgent, my Lord?”

“Yes.”

The manservant pursed his lips. “Still, you must make sure to eat, my Lord. Or else you won’t be able to keep up with Mr. Stonewall.”

Evander looked at him blankly.

Hargrove sighed. “I mean in the sack, my Lord.”

Evander’s eyes shrank to slits.

“Mr. Hargrove!” Mrs. Sinclair choked from the doorway.

Hargrove looked at her with a pained expression. “It’s uncanny how you always happen to be nearby whenever I say something salacious, Mrs. S.”

Evander left them to their bickering and had a maid ask Graham to bring his carriage around.

The Metropolitan Police Headquarters loomed out of the swirling mist when they pulled up in front of it sometime later.

The fog had made travel slow and it was already after nine.

He hurried inside and nodded briskly to the officers who acknowledged him with respectful salutes as he made his way to the Arcane Division.

Sergeant Griffiths was manning the reception.

“Inspector Grayson and Miss Shaw are waiting for you in your office, your Grace,” he informed Evander.

“Thank you.”

Evander found Rufus and Shaw discussing the case when he entered his office.

Shaw stopped and brightened at his sight. “Ah, your Grace. I’m pleased to see you. I just received a report from our handwriting expert on those letters Nightshade brought around yesterday. He confirmed they were indeed forgeries.”

Evander straightened, his pulse quickening. “We should let Viggo know.”

Shaw grinned. “Already taken care of, sir. I just dispatched a messenger.”

“I’ve updated Shaw about what happened yesterday,” Rufus explained. He looked curiously past Evander. “Where’s Leon?”

“He went to the Institute this morning,” Evander replied. He hesitated a beat. “We should join him.”

Rufus and Shaw’s expressions grew instantly alert.

“Is something wrong?” Rufus asked guardedly.

“I hope not.” Evander tried to keep his tone light. “Are our two guests safely lodged?” he asked as the inspector joined him, Shaw trailing in his footsteps.

“Yes. Sergeant Griffiths and his team are guarding the safe house.”

Evander’s gaze switched to Shaw as they headed into the corridor. “How did it go yesterday?”

“We’ve catalogued and moved all the contents of the chamber beneath Whitley’s laboratory to the Met, your Grace,” the forensic mage reported. She made a face. “I did come upon something strange I was going to ask you about.”

Evander’s scalp prickled. “Strange? Strange how?”

“Some kind of magical signature,” Shaw explained with a vague wave of a hand. “I asked Mrs. Scarborough for some of that potion she’d made. You know, the neutralising agent? Apparently, it can detect traces of other types of magic, not just hidden wards and spells.”

Evander stared at her as they reached the stairs. “That would never have crossed my mind. Well done for thinking outside the box, Shaw.”

“Of course, your Grace.” Shaw sniffed and rubbed her nose proudly with a knuckle. “I’m the best forensic mage the Met has, after all.”

Rufus rolled his eyes. “How about you tell us what you found?”

Shaw’s expression turned shrewd. “Remember the compartment where that device was hidden?”

Evander stiffened. “The one with the strange metallic scent?”

Shaw blinked, her smile fading. “You could smell it?!”

Tension hummed through Evander. “Yes.” He frowned. “But it didn’t feel like magic of any kind I’ve ever felt before, so I didn’t think much of it. Whitley’s lab and that room contained all kinds of chemicals, after all.”

“Cor,” Shaw mumbled, impressed. “So that pretty nose of yours isn’t just for show, huh?”

“Shaw,” Rufus warned with a scowl.

“Sorry, your Grace. As I was saying, there was a magical signature there. I think it’d leaked from that device. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” Shaw scratched her head. “It was almost as if someone had tried mixing several different types of magic together.”

Evander rocked to halt on a step. Rufus went as still as stone beside him.

Shaw studied their stunned expressions warily. “What?” It didn’t take long for her confusion to fade. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Bloody hell! This is about what that Thornfield lad told you two yesterday, isn’t? The Magical Conduit Theory?!”

They hushed her and looked around cautiously.

Luckily, there wasn’t anyone within earshot.

Evander decided not to point out to the forensic mage that Thornfield was likely the same age as her.

“We should go take another look at where you discovered that magical signature,” he said grimly as they descended the stairs at a brisk pace.

“There’s something else, your Grace,” Shaw added as they hurried through the Arcane Division. “I decided to see if that magic was present anywhere else in the south wing. Guess what? I found a trace of it outside one of the lecture halls.”

Evander traded a surprised look with Rufus.

“Well done, Shaw,” he murmured.

They were closing in on their enemy. He was certain of it.

The trip to Bloomsbury seemed interminable, the carriage forced to proceed at little more than walking pace through the soupy fog.

Evander’s fingers drummed restlessly against his knee as he stared out at the silhouettes of buildings drifting past. The ghostly shape of the Institute finally materialised up ahead.

The courtyard was even more eerily silent than yesterday, the fog shrouding the grand buildings in an otherworldly pall that made them look as if they belonged to another realm.

To Evander’s surprise, they met Constables Fitch and Bartley in the main foyer.

The pair slowed when they saw their group. Both men looked pale and tense.

Alarm knotted Evander’s shoulders at the sight of the truncheons in their hands.

“How did you get here so quickly, your Grace?” Fitch asked stiffly before he could question them.

“What do you mean?”

“We just sent an officer to headquarters to fetch you,” Fitch explained rapidly, his eyes dark with concern.

“Something’s happening in the south wing.

The French Special Arcane Investigator was inspecting one of the lecture halls when we heard an explosion inside.

We rushed over there but there was some kind of magic barrier blocking our way. We couldn’t get inside.”

“We could hear fighting going on,” Bartley mumbled. “The whole place stank, your Grace. Like something rotten!”

“We were just looking for a member of the faculty to help us,” Fitch said.

Fear squeezed Evander’s heart. Leon!

“Fitch, Bartley, don’t let anyone inside the building if they’re not with the Met!” Evander barked as he started running, Rufus and Shaw in his footsteps.

The constables nodded briskly.

“Get ready!” Evander warned Rufus and Shaw in a hard voice as they pounded the quiet halls. “We’re probably dealing with a dark mage and a powerful one at that.”

They had just passed the junction leading to the south wing when a voice called out to them.

“Your Grace? Inspector?”

Evander stumbled to a stop, Rufus and Shaw skidding behind him with a curse.

Cecillia watched them with a puzzled expression as she approached from the west wing, the sergeant and constables assigned to her security following in her wake.

“Is everything alright?”