Page 89 of Arcane Entanglement
A safe, perhaps? Or some kind of box?!
Whatever the key represented, it was their first solid lead to Millbrook’s murderer.
“Why put it in that?” Shaw said.
She pointed at the scrap of paper in Evander’s hand with a puzzled expression. The edges were torn, indicating Millbrook has hastily ripped it from a page.
The hairs lifted off Evander’s nape, warning him they were on the cusp of another discovery.
“Maybe he wrote something on it in invisible ink,” Rufus suggested. He flinched at Evander and Shaw’s stares. “What? It could happen.”
“You’re a genius, sir!” Shaw blurted out. She fixed Evander with an excited look. “I bet it’s enchanted, your Grace.”
Evander nodded, the thrill shining in the forensic mage’s eyes dancing through him. He focused his powers and rubbed the paper carefully between his fingers, trying to gauge the magic it contained.
His belly clenched at what he sensed.
Fire Magic? Again?!But—how? Millbrook wasn’t a fire?—!
Realisation struck him like a bolt of thunder. His gaze landed on the engraving tools next to the half-finished pocket watch.
“Of course,” Evander mumbled numbly.
“What is it your Grace?” Shaw asked tensely.
“I was wondering how Millbrook was able to cast Fire Magic,” Evander explained. “He didn’t. He used his engraving tools to carve out fire magic spells.”
Rufus and Shaw stared wide-eyed at the items on the workbench.
Evander couldn’t help but experience a deep sense of admiration for the dead Charm Weaver.
Alastair Millbrook had been a genius.
“So, you’re saying he used Fire Magic to enchant that paper?” Rufus said, his tone still sceptical.
“Yes.”
Shaw’s expression grew determined. “I hate to sound like an arsonist, your Grace, but there’s only one thing for it.”
Rufus’s eyes rounded.
“Wait! You surely don’t mean he should?—!”
A hard smile curved Shaw’s mouth. “Too late.”
The air was shimmering around Evander’s fingertips, fire magic pulsing in his blood stream in a controlled flow.
Rufus sucked in air when sparks lifted off his skin and ignited the letters hidden in the paper, scorching out a word.
Rosa.
They stared at it breathlessly.
“Is that his wife’s name?” Rufus said.
Shaw shook her head. “His wife is called Martha.” Concern wrinkled her brow. “We still don’t know her whereabouts or that of their son William. Their family home in Finsbury was empty when we last called there two days ago. Neighbours reported they hadn’t seen a soul on the premises in well over a week.”
Evander’s mind raced.
