“Commander.” Evander shook his hand. “Thank you for meeting with us.” He introduced the rest of their team.
Rousseau’s gaze lingered on Fairbridge. “Please give General Hartwick my regards.”
Fairbridge dipped his head respectfully.
Viggo wondered if the two men already knew one another and if Rousseau was aware of Fairbridge’s special abilities.
He became conscious of the French commander’s curious stare.
“The Ironfist Brute. I am honoured to make your acquaintance, Mr. Stonewall. Thank you for saving Comte Beaulieu’s life.”
Surprise jolted Viggo when Rousseau offered him his hand. The Brute shook it, masking his bewilderment behind a polite smile.
A secretary brought coffee and pastries while they arranged themselves in the chairs Rousseau indicated, Shaw nursing her drink with fond affection.
“Have you been able to glean anything of use in the notebook Viggo gave you?” Evander asked once they had settled, his gaze switching between Rousseau and Leon.
The frustrated set of Leon’s jaw suggested otherwise.
“We’ve had our best cryptologists working on it through the night,” the Frenchman said. “The names we were already aware of. They are formerLes Prophètes Illuminésmemberswho have died or gone missing or people linked to their research.The notations are in some kind of personal code. So far, their meaning continues to elude us.”
“And the body of the dead Belgian?” Viggo asked.
“Being exhumed as we speak.” Leon’s expression darkened. “The original autopsy found water in his lungs consistent with drowning. But now that we know what to look for, I’ve ordered our Chief Arcane Forensic examiner to check for traces of dark magic.” He faltered. “If he was killed the same way as Molyneux, there may be residual signatures we missed the first time.”
Viggo’s gut tightened. Another thread to follow, another dead man whose secrets might help them unravel this conspiracy—if they could decipher them in time.
Rousseau fixed Evander with a penetrating stare. “Tell me about your discovery in Faubourg Saint-Germain.”
The commander listened intently as Evander delivered their carefully edited report of the previous evening’s events and his conclusions.
“So you attended Viscount Brassard’s soirée and found evidence of covert shipments in his basement and an object you last saw during your investigation of Professor Musgrave a few weeks ago?” Rousseau summarised with a frown when Evander finished. “An object capable of forcing magic into thralls?”
“Yes, theMagical Conduitdevice,” Evander confirmed with a brisk nod. “Leon saw it when he was in London.”
Rousseau’s expression sharpened. “You believe Brassard is connected to ‘I’ and this network of dark mages we’ve been investigating, but yet, you don’t wish for us to arrest the man?”
Viggo heard the disbelief underscoring the commander’s voice. He and Evander had had the same discussion after they’d returned to their hotel last night. Though Viggo had wanted to inform Leon of their findings straightway and have Brassard and his accomplices arrested and interrogated, Evander’s reasoning for not doing so had made sobering sense in the end. Fairbridge had surprised Viggo further by agreeing with Evander’s assessment.
“There is no shadow of a doubt about Brassard’s involvement in this matter.” Evander’s tone remained even as he elaborated on his thinking. “The shipping manifests we obtained indicate his legitimate business interests are serving as a cover for something more sinister. But he is just a middleman, in it for the money. He is not a dark mage. Arresting him won’t help our investigation. We should have him and his associates tailedinstead. I believe that avenue will yield more useful information. Especially the man called Guillaume. He is a dark mage and a dangerous one.”
Leon straightened in his seat. “You think he’s the one who killed Molyneux?”
Evander met his gaze steadily. “Probably. It would explain his presence at the crime scene in Marais. He wanted to see who would investigate Molyneux’s murder.”
Rousseau’s gaze swept their group, pausing briefly on Viggo and Fairbridge before returning to Evander. “And you encountered no difficulties during your reconnaissance?” he said insistently.
“None worth reporting,” Evander lied smoothly.
Tension coursed through Viggo. He had the impression Rousseau didn’t completely believe their story. Leon’s sharp glance in their direction told him the Frenchman also suspected something was off.
He, Evander, and the others had decided as a team last night not to reveal details of their clash with dark mages to the French authorities. Because doing so would mean exposing Fairbridge’s secret.
Did they already have someone working under cover in Brassard’s mansion?
Viggo’s gaze drifted briefly to Fairbridge, seated composed and unreadable beside Shaw. If such a person was there last night, he or she would no doubt have fallen victim to Fairbridge’s magic.
The memory of yesterday’s revelation still unsettled Viggo. Though he’d not sensed Fairbridge’s magic the way Evander had, he’d seen the amber sparks in Fairbridge’s pupils as he’d worked his Enchanter abilities on the entire ballroom.
