“Guillaume, we have a problem,” a voice said urgently in French. “The guards aren’t at the door.”
“And someone broke the lock,” a second voice spat out.
Evander held his breath in the brief lull that ensued.
“Find our rats,” someone finally commanded coldly. “They must be down here.”
Evander swallowed a curse. So much for discretion.
He counted at least six sets of footsteps spreading through the basement. Evander met Viggo’s eyes in the gloom, seeing his own grim determination reflected there. They were going to have to fight their way out of there.
Two men entered the chamber. A foul scent of corrupt magic washed through the room and raised goosebumps on Evander’s skin.
He mouthed the words “Dark mages!” to Viggo.
The Brute clenched his jaw and bobbed his head.
Evander gathered his magic as the first shadow rounded the corner of their hiding spot.
His blood ran cold when he recognised the figure.
It was the man from the Marais crime scene. The one who’d been watching them.
The man scowled, his expression showing a lack of recognition Evander was briefly grateful for. His hand shot toward Evander, the dark tendrils blooming around hisfingertips causing the Anti-Shadow Magic ring on Evander’s hand to flare with light.
Evander was faster.
Wind magic erupted from his palm, catching the man square in the chest and hurling him into his companion. They went down in a tangle of limbs and startled curses.
Viggo launched himself at them before they could recover, his fist connecting with the jaw of the man who’d been at Marais. The crack of bone was audible even over the shouts now echoing through the basement.
“There! In the first room!”
More footsteps thundered toward them.
Evander spun as three figures burst through the doorway. Dark magic crackled around their fingers as they unleashed offensive spells. The shadows in the room converged upon Evander and Viggo.
Evander threw up a barrier of compressed air just as the first shadow creatures came to life with ear-splitting shrieks. The monsters smashed into the wall of wind and recoiled when they came within range of the disruptive magic pulsing brightly from the ring on his finger, their forms unravelling chaotically.
A grunt reached Evander. He looked over his shoulder, alarmed.
Viggo’s face was a focused grimace as he grasped the dark bolts a mage had cast at him with his bare hands. The tendons in his neck strained. He crushed the corrupt magic with a roar and advanced on the man who’d attacked him while the latter tried to raise another spell. His fist connected with the mage’s face, sending him crashing into a stack of crates that collapsed with a tremendous clatter.
Evander moved and pressed his back against the Brute’s as they faced off against their adversaries, his pulse hammering in his veins. He clenched his fists.
He and Viggo could take their attackers out in seconds if they wanted to. But doing so would create a disturbance that would likely alert their host to their presence.
The dark mage from Marais staggered to his feet, blood streaming from his broken nose. Confusion clouded his face for a moment. It faded as realisation dawned.
“The only person I know who can smash aside magic with his bare hands is the Ironfist Brute,” he said in heavily-accented English.
CHAPTER 23
Evander’s scalpprickled when he recognised the voice of the man the others had called Guillaume.
The dark mage’s angry gaze shifted to Evander, scanning him. He scowled when he spotted the chain that had slipped out from underneath Evander’s collar. “An Illusion Amulet. Which means you must be the Ice Mage!”
Dark magic thickened the air as the mages circled them.
