Page 4 of Stolen Magic
“Yes,” Evander murmured.“She was quite insistent.”
Viggo grinned at his irritated expression.“You don’t seem terribly pleased about the matter.”
“She probably wants details of our torrid love affair,” Evander said tartly.
“Graphic details, no doubt,” Hargrove added in a devilish tone under his breath.
Evander cut his eyes to the deadpan manservant.He was distracted by Viggo leaning in towards him.
“It’s a valuable talent for an informant,” the Brute observed drily.“See you tonight, your Grace.”His eyes twinkled as he pressed a kiss to Evander’s mouth that made a passing scullery maid squeak.He turned and vanished out the door.
Evander flushed and traced his lips with his fingers, the Brute’s gesture of affection making desire stir inside him all over again.He became aware of Hargrove’s grin and heaved a heavy sigh.
“Jasper?”
“Yes, yes, I shall wipe my indecent smile off my face before you punch me, my Lord,” Hargrove declared in a voice devoid of remorse.
It was nine o’clock on the dot when Evander’s carriage deposited him outside the gates of Scotland Yard.
“I shall send a message when I have need of you,” he told his coachman.
Graham nodded courteously.
Samuel beamed and bobbed his head with a shy, “Have a great day, your Grace!”
Evander bit back a dry smile.The young footman seemed absolutely delighted that his hero Viggo was romantically involved with his master.He watched the pair leave before turning to study the Metropolitan Police Headquarters.
It rose dauntingly before him, a rambling gothic fortress with a stone facade blackened by decades of London’s coal smoke.He greeted the sergeant and constables manning the gates and crossed over into the main yard, the protective wards embedded into the perimeter wall brushing against his skin.
Evander’s thoughts drifted once more to the events of the past month as he made for the worn steps leading to the ironclad doors of the main entrance, the voice of the drill sergeant training the new recruits in the grounds echoing against the walls around him.
The investigation into Alastair Millbrook’s murder had led him and Viggo down a perilous path, none worse than the nearly disastrous outcome of their battle with Renwick in Charing Cross.His magic and Viggo’s brute strength had saved many a life that day, after Renwick and a group of mages attacked the station and attempted to send a magic-driven train crashing into a platform packed with stricken passengers.Evander still shuddered at the thought of what might have been had his lover not been at his side during that dangerous incident.
Though they had prevailed, the identity of the mysterious “I” remained elusive, as did the location of theBlood Siphon, the device Alastair Millbrook had made for Renwick and his master.Those two facts lurked insidiously at the edges of Evander’s consciousness, setting his nerves on edge whenever he gave them a moment’s thought.
The letter that had arrived after Renwick’s death had made it clear their adversary was far from finished with this horrid affair.
Evander pushed his dark musings firmly aside when he entered the building.The morning bustle of Scotland Yard enveloped him in its familiar embrace as he navigated the marble floor of the impressive lobby.Constables and secretarial staff rushed about with files clutched to their chests, the scent of strong tea mingling with ink and magic as it rose through the administrative block of the Met.
The mage was acutely aware of the stares that followed his passage as he answered colleagues’ greetings and made his way to the west wing of the fortress.Several officers nudged one another, their gazes locked on him with barely concealed curiosity.
Though the scandal that had accompanied Evander’s recently revealed status had all but died down, it was still the talk of the town in some circles, chief among them the taverns where coppers hung out.
It seemed the novelty of having an Archmage in their midst hadn’t worn off yet.
As uncomfortable as it made him some days, he’d resigned himself to the fact that it would take time for the people around him to realise he was the same person they had known before his true identity was revealed.
Three salutes and five more “your Grace” greetings later, Evander finally reached Commander Winterbourne’s office in the administrative quarters of the Arcane Division.He crossed the open area crowded with desks at which men and women already sat hunched over their paperwork and paused before the heavy oak doors.
Muffled voices came from within.Evander glanced at Winterbourne’s secretary.
“Please go in, your Grace,” the man said with a dip of his chin.“The commander is expecting you.”
Evander knocked, announced himself, and entered.
“Ah, Ravenwood.Just the man.”Winterbourne sat behind his desk, his uniform immaculate and the enchanted map on the wall behind him glowing with orange markers that indicated active crime scenes across the capital.
Rufus occupied one of the chairs in front of the commander, his expression uncharacteristically grave.A bolt of sympathy darted through Evander at the sight of the shadows beneath his friend’s eyes.
