“No defensive wounds on the palms or knuckles,” she murmured. “Which suggests he didn’t have time to physically defend himself.” She pointed to faint marks on his wrists. “But there is bruising consistent with magical restraint. Someone held him in place while they killed him.”
“They didn’t just kill him,” Evander stated quietly.
Shaw wrinkled her brow while the others traded puzzled looks. She tilted her head and studied the body once more. She stiffened a moment later, her eyes widening as realisation dawned. The forensic mage swallowed hard before meeting Evander’s gaze.
“They drained him.”
“Drained him?” Leon said, puzzled. “Drained him of what?”
“His magic and possibly his life force,” Evander replied grimly. He met Leon’s shocked stare. “This is the hybrid magic we encountered during the Musgrave case. Dark magic combined withBlood Magicand shadow magic.”
Leon paled. “You mean, they used theBlood Siphonor that other contraptionwe discovered in Whitley’s lab on him?!”
“Or something similar.” Evander knelt beside Shaw. “The discolouration of the body is comparable to the dead thralls we discovered in Musgrave’s lab, after we defeated him and his associates.”
“Some of the victims didn’t have arcane residue in their veins, which meant they had been used for something other than magical transference,” Rufus told Leon darkly.
Fairbridge’s eyes gleamed shrewdly. “You believe Musgrave and his associates were carrying on Renwick’s work with theBlood Siphon?”
Evander nodded, not surprised that he knew the full details of the case.
Shaw leaned in and examined the back of the victim’s head more closely. “There’s something here,” she murmured. “A trace of an oily substance around his collar. Here, help me your Grace.” She carefully unbuttoned the top of Molyneux’s shirt, revealing more of the grey-tinged skin beneath, and had Evander carefully tilt the man forward. Her eyes narrowed. “The base of his skull.”
Leon and the others gathered around them as Evander peered at the spot she indicated. There, barely visible against the discoloured flesh, were two small puncture marks surrounded by what looked like a dark crystalline residue.
The sight brought a sour taste to Evander’s mouth.
“They used a device all right,” he said grimly. “One that can probably fit in the palm of a hand.”
Shaw produced a small scraping tool and carefully collected samples of the crystalline residue before tucking them into a vial from her case. “I’ll need to analyse this properly at the hotel?—”
“You can use our forensics lab,” Leon interrupted.
Shaw bobbed her head curtly. “Much obliged.”
Fairbridge moved to the window and gazed out at the street below. “This building has no magical wards, no particular security. Molyneux was vulnerable but still, to kill him in broad daylight indicates?—”
“They are growing more brazen,” Evander concluded.
“But why now?” Shaw sat back on her heels. “If someone’s been systematically eliminating researchers linked toLes Prophètes Illuminésfor five years, what made Molyneux a priority at this particular moment in time?”
They stared at her, Evander silently cursing himself for not having thought it first.
It was the right question.
He straightened and surveyed the scattered papers on the desk and around the room, his heart slamming against his ribs. “Because he found something. Or was close to finding something.”
Realisation dawned on everyone’s face.
They began searching the study.
Most of the documents they found were academic in nature: correspondence with other scholars, notes on various arcane texts, drafts of articles for magical journals.
It was Fairbridge who found the letter. He’d moved to a windowsill and was inspecting a stack of poetry books when he froze.
“Your Grace.”
Evander looked up from where he was examining the fireplace, immediately alert. “What is it?”
