“Justice,” Beckett scoffed, blind to the shifting mood. “A convenient platitude. Tell me, your Grace, what exactly do you know about the mysterious culprit you claim is behind all of this? What was his name again?” The minister shoved his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and shuffled the paperwork in front of him with jerky movements.
“We only know him as ‘I’,” Hartwick supplied, directing an irritated glance at Beckett.
“Yes, this ‘I’ person!” Beckett pinned Evander with a glare. “Where are his confederates? What was the true purpose of theirexperiments? What”—the minister waved a hand angrily—“is it that youactuallyknow about the man, your Grace?!”
“Like I said,” Evander managed without gritting his teeth, “the investigation is ongoing?—“
“The investigation is proceeding at a glacial pace, that is what it is!” Beckett’s face had turned a deep shade of crimson. “We have a madman loose in London, potentially planning further atrocities, and you expect us to simply wait whilst the Metropolitan Police stumble about in the dark?!”
A subtle burst of power leeched the warmth from the room. A couple of committee members straightened where they sat.
Lady Farrington was one of them. Her eyes narrowed to slits.
Evander avoided her knowing stare as he dug his nails into his palms and dampened the magic threatening to escape his control. He had no doubt Winterbourne would hear about this, either from Lady Farrington or General Hartwick, and have words with him. Irate ones that might resonate through the entire fifth floor of the Arcane Division.
Beckett shivered and looked around with a scowl. “Why is it so damn cold in here all of a sudden? You there”—he pointed irritably at one of the constables—“be a chap and go find out what’s happening to the heating system.”
The man glanced nervously at Evander before leaving the room, his drooping shoulders suggesting he knew perfectly well he’d just been sent on a fool’s errand.
Evander frowned as he met Beckett’s heated gaze. He was tempted to throw caution to the wind, but he no longer saw the need to hide his feelings. His voice hardened.
“What Iexpect, sir, is for you to allow the proper authorities to conduct a thorough investigation, rather than demand answers we cannot yet provide.” His ire radiated like an icy blanket, thickening the air with a commanding power.
Lady Farrington’s expression grew pinched. She shot Beckett a dark look that spoke of her exasperation with her colleague from the Ministry of Arcane Affairs.
“Perhaps it would be best if we let the General ask his questions next,” she said in a voice that implied this wasn’t a suggestion.
Beckett bristled and opened his mouth to protest. He faltered beneath her glower.
Hartwick broke the tense silence. “Your Grace, perhaps you could enlighten us as to the nature of the dark magic involved.” He narrowed his eyes a fraction. “We understand there were references to something called… a Crimson Codex?”
Though Evander tried to keep his expression neutral, his pulse quickened nonetheless.
How in blazes did he learn about that?!
Beckett and the other committee members frowned and started checking their notes. Only Hartwick and Lady Farrington kept their unwavering gazes locked on Evander.
Evander cursed inwardly. He was certain the pair already knew the answer to the question they’d just posed. Tension knotted his shoulders as he weighed how much to reveal.
“From the little we know about the Crimson Codex,” he began carefully, “it is an ancient text rumoured to have been penned by the very first Archmage. We believe Professor Musgrave and his associates were seeking it for their research into magical transference, at the behest of ‘I’.”
Beckett leaned toward the gentleman to his right. “Do you know of this Crimson Codex business?” he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
The man shook his head, equally puzzled by the reference.
Hartwick ignored their exchange. “And have you located this text?”
“Not yet,” Evander replied evenly.
The lines creasing the corners of Hartwick’s eyes deepened. “Do you know where it might be found, your Grace?”
“We are pursuing several leads,” Evander said in the monotonous tone of a man intent on avoiding a full response, come hell or high water.
Hartwick’s thin lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile at this transparent tactic. “How reassuring. And whilst you pursue these leads, what is to prevent Musgrave or ‘I’ from acquiring this Codex first?”
Evander didn’t miss the irony in the general’s words.
“We are doing everything in our power—” he began leadenly.
