Page 25 of Arcane Entanglement
Ginny cast a tense look at him from under her hood.
“There is no guarantee he will agree to meet you,” she said for the umpteenth time.
“I know. But this is the only way I’m going to get that Brute to talk.”
She furrowed her brow and accelerated her pace. Mud churned under Evander’s feet as he kept up with her.
They were in an area of Stepney sandwiched between Limehouse and London Docks. Though nowhere near as squalid as the East End, it was still a deprived district, the roads and buildings a sharp contrast to the elegant squares and fashionable streets frequented by the wealthy, magical elite a mere handful of miles away.
Evander glanced at the shadowy figures lurking in the side alleys they passed.
Who knewNightshadewas located here.
The man they were going to see was a mysterious figure linked to an elusive guild of which even less was known. Though many suspectedNightshadeto be involved in illegal activities, no one had been able to provide evidence to support the rumours, hence why it had avoided raids by the Met. Said to be frequented by crime lords and royalty alike, the guild quickly gained a reputation as London’s most notorious information network after first appearing on the scene some fifteen years ago.
Just as infamous was the man behind the organisation. Viggo Stonewall, AKA the Ironfist Brute. Rumoured to be one of the strongest of his kind in all of Europe, he was said to have once stopped a train with his bare hands.
Evander couldn’t help but feel a deep spark of interest concerning Stonewall. The man was revered as a legend by thralls all over England. Having never had reason to cross his path in his role as a Special Arcane Investigator, he was curious to finally be meeting him.
Of course, he hadn’t told Ginny any of this when he’d visited her townhouse that afternoon. If anyone in his circle knew how to get in touch withNightshadeand its enigmatic owner, he’d been certain it would be her.
“How is it you know the man again?” Evander enquired as they navigated a labyrinth of filthy alleys, the hems of their cloaks brushing their cheap boots.
Ginny hesitated. “I don’t know him personally. He wasn’t present on the occasions I availed myself of the services of his organisation.” She met his wary stare and sighed. “I needed to investigate some potential business partners.Nightshadeis quicker and more efficient than any other information guild out there.”
Fifteen minutes after being dropped off at the junction of Commercial Road and Cannon Street by a hansom cab, they reached a building bearing a neat sign that saidIronclad Shippingabove its front door.
It was identical to any of the dozens of merchant companies in the area.
Ginny ducked into a side alley that led to the back. She ignored the rear exit and headed for a nondescript door tucked at the corner of the establishment. A flame sizzled inside the oil lantern next to it.
The feeble glow washed across a metal symbol in the shape of a small purple flower nailed above the lintel.
Evander’s scalp prickled as he stared at it, Ophelia Miller’s warning ringing in his ears.
Ginny glanced at him. “That’s why I agreed to bring you here without making a fuss.” She frowned. “It crossed my mind that the purple flower Miss Miller alluded to wasNightshade, but it wasn’t until you mentioned wanting to see Viggo Stonewall that I became certain of the connection.”
She walked up to the door and knocked on a small window at eye level. It slid open immediately. A baleful gaze swept them from head to toe from behind a row of metal bars.
“What do you want?” the figure asked in a hostile tone.
“Solana,” Ginny said, unfazed.
The figure narrowed his eyes. The window banged closed.
“He’s pleasant,” Evander observed.
“Best get used to it,” Ginny said in a thin voice. “This isn’t going to be like your gentleman’s club in Pall Mall.”
There was the sound of multiple bolts sliding.
“IsSolanaa code?” Evander asked curiously.
“Yes. I am told it comes fromSolanaceae, the plant family the nightshade flower belongs to.”
Evander raised an eyebrow. It seemed whoever came up with the password was well versed in botany.
The door opened, revealing a gloomy stone passage lined with wooden trunks and crates stacked haphazardly atop one another. A heavy, wrought-iron door was visible at the opposite end. It was being guarded by a shadowy figure.
