“Which is precisely the point,” Winterbourne interrupted. “The Ministry wants this investigation moving quickly. They’re concerned about the political ramifications if word spreads about what Musgrave and his associates were attempting.” He paused. “Particularly the forced magical transference.” He examined the paperwork before him. “Count Beaulieu will serveas your initial contact in Paris. From there, I’ve arranged relevant connections in Brussels, Vienna, and even Berlin, depending on what you uncover.”
Evander’s chest twinged at his former lover’s name. He kept his expression neutral.
“What’s the scope of the investigation?”
“Broad.” Winterbourne drummed his fingers on the desk. “We’re looking for any connection to the experiments conducted in London. Similar disappearances, unusual magical disturbances, research into magical transference or blood magic. And of course, your ultimate goal is to find the Crimson Codex, if it does indeed exist, before our enemy does.”
Evander was pretty certain the tome existed at this point. “And our undercover story?”
“Officially, you will be fostering relations between international Arcane Divisions with the goal of forming a European Taskforce that can deal with criminals and incidents that cross borders.” Winterbourne’s gaze sharpened as he studied Evander. “You’ll be leading the investigation. Select your team—six in total, including yourself and Inspector Grayson.”
Evander considered Winterbourne’s words carefully. He’d known this was coming for a while and had already made up his mind as to the people he wanted along with him on this mission. “Viggo Stonewall and Lady Hartley. If there’s a criminal network supporting these experiments across Europe, they’ll identify it.”
Winterbourne’s eyebrow rose fractionally. “The underworld angle proved crucial during the Institute investigation and the Renwick affair,” he conceded. “And Lady Hartley has connections among the European nobility that might prove useful. Anyone else?”
“Constable Shaw. We all know what she’s capable of and I could do with someone with her skills on this mission.” Evander paused. “I’ll need time to consider the sixth.”
“You have until the morning two days hence.” Winterbourne gathered the documents back into a neat pile. “Briefing packets will be ready at eight o’clock sharp. I want your entire team assembled and prepared to board the train to Dover by nine-thirty on the day of departure.”
“Yes, sir.”
Winterbourne’s gaze lingered on Evander for a long moment. “I have faith in you. But faith won’t protect you if you give the Ministry grounds to sideline you.” His voice gentled slightly. “You’re the only one who can unravel this conspiracy. Don’t let Beckett’s theatrics cost us this investigation.”
Evander nodded curtly.
Winterbourne stood, signalling the meeting’s end. “One more thing. Watch Fairbridge carefully. The War Office doesn’t assign just anyone to oversee international investigations. Whatever his file says, he’s dangerous.”
Evander and Rufus nodded briskly and rose.
“Evander,” Winterbourne called out quietly as they made for the door.
Evander paused and glanced back.
The commander’s expression was unreadable. “You have three days. Make them count.”
Evander grasped the hidden meaning behind Winterbourne’s words. He and Viggo wouldn’t have much time for one another once they embarked on their trip to Europe.
The administrative offices outside felt cool after the intensity of Winterbourne’s office. Evander exhaled slowly, the weight of the coming investigation settling onto his shoulders like a heavy blanket.
“Well,” Rufus said as they headed across the busy floor, “that could have been worse.”
“Could it?” Evander’s lips quirked despite himself. “I just got dressed down like a green constable.”
“At least he didn’t sack you,” Rufus grunted, though his tone held no malice. “Winterbourne’s right.” He glanced at Evander. “You’re better than letting Beckett get under your skin.”
“I know.” Evander grimaced. “It doesn’t make it any easier.”
They descended the stairs in silence and headed into the main fortress building. Around them, the Yard hummed with its usual activity—officers bringing in grumbling civilians protesting their crimes, administrative staff rushing about with reports, forensic mages carrying samples to be analysed in their respective labs— the constant background noise of London’s law enforcement machinery in motion.
“You going to be alright with this?” Rufus asked as they reached the main foyer. “Leading an international investigation whilst being watched by a Ministry spy?”
Evander carefully considered the question. The truth was, he wasn’t certain. The pressure from Parliament, the responsibility of leading such a crucial investigation, the presence of a possibly hostile observer shadowing his every move, and now the added weight of Tom Simmons’s deteriorating condition—it all felt like a noose slowly tightening around his neck.
“I don’t really have a choice in the matter,” he finally said.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Evander met his friend’s concerned gaze. “I’ll manage, somehow.”
