Page 105 of Arcane Entanglement
Viggo scowled. “That dark mage works at the Royal Institute for the Arcane?”
Evander opened the journal next, Viggo and Rufus peering over his shoulder.
It was a record of Alastair Millbrook’s days as a Charm Weaver. His neat handwriting danced across the pages, etching out his thoughts, emotions, and the humdrum that sometimes defined his occupation. He’d even hastily jotted down random ideas that came to him at the edges of the paper, as if he couldn’t find the patience to write them elsewhere or was fearful he might forget them.
The tone of his journal changed in the last fifteen pages or so. His penmanship grew more shoddy, ink blots darkening the sheets here and there, the language he began using hasty and blunt.
Sentences jumped out at Evander, the words betraying the Charm Weaver’s growing dread.
I am beginning to question the purpose of this commission. I fear R hasn’t been completely honest with me.
R came to the workshop again today. He grows impatient.
The hairs lifted on the back of Evander’s neck when he turned a page.
What have I done? Dear God, could this be what I think it is?!
R is a dark mage. I am certain of it now.
Viggo shifted closer, his knee brushing Evander’s thigh, the tension roiling off him reflected in Evander’s whitening knuckles.
I have to get Martha and William out of London. I curse the day I ever accepted R’s offer. This is the devil’s work and I shall be part of it no longer!
The journal rustled when Evander flipped the paper.
Millbrook’s final entry made him freeze and drew a curse from Rufus.
I am sure he will come to kill me tonight. I have done my best to foil his plans. To anyone who finds this, please, forgive me. I hope you find a skilled artificer to complete the countermeasure I’d begun to make. Give my love to my wife and son. And may God pardon me my sins!
Evander clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt.
The fact that Millbrook had not sought help meant he was either fearful for his family or things had happened too quickly near the end for him to do so.
Or maybe he thought Renwick was too powerful a foe to be stopped by Scotland Yard.
That thought chilled his blood.
“Your Grace.”
William’s dazed tone had them looking over at him.
The young man was kneeling in the dirt, his father’s notes spread out before him.
“If I’m reading this correctly, my father created a device called theBlood Siphon,” he mumbled. “Its purpose is to capture and store vast amounts of energy.”
The pieces of the puzzle slotted into place like death knolls inside Evander’s mind.
“The crystal vial.” Rufus met Evander’s shocked gaze. “McAndrew and Brown said it was some kind of energy conduit!”
Evander swallowed and nodded. “That explains the thaumic capacitor we found in Millbrook’s workshop.”
William’s eyes rounded. “My father has athaumic capacitor? No, before that. You said something about a vial!” His gaze roamed a series of drawings on the ground. He grabbed a page and thrust it in their faces. “Do you mean this?!”
Goosebumps erupted on Evander’s skin.
Penned elaborately on the paper was a perfect representation of the object he’d found near Millbrook’s body.
Evander touched the drawing with trembling fingers.
