When they finally broke apart, Evander’s eyes were bright with emotion.
“We should finish packing,” he murmured against Viggo’s lips.
“In a minute.”
Viggo kissed him again, deeper this time, trying to convey everything he couldn’t put into words. The fear that had gripped him when they’d been surrounded in that basement. The relief when they’d emerged unscathed. The bone-deep certainty that he would burn the world down before he let anything happen to this man.
A knock at the door eventually forced them apart.
“Train’s in three hours,” Rufus called through the wood. “Best get a move on.”
Evander huffed a quiet laugh against Viggo’s shoulder. “Duty calls.”
“It always does,” Viggo said wryly.
The train station was crowded with early afternoon travellers when they got there. They found their private sleeper carriages, a first for everyone, and settled in for the journey. The magic-powered locomotive gathered steam as it slid away from the platform moments later.
Viggo listened to Shaw chatter excitedly as he watched Paris recede through the window, the elegant spires and grand boulevards shrinking in the sunlight. Somewhere in the city, Brassard and Guillaume were still trying to figure out what had happened last night. And dark mages were hunting down anyone linked toLes Prophètes Illuminés.
CHAPTER 26
Brussels greetedthem with grey skies and a persistent drizzle that seemed determined to dampen their spirits as well as their clothing. Their train pulled into Gare du Midi just before ten o’clock in the morning the next day, the platform bustling with travellers and porters despite the weather.
Evander stepped down from his carriage and breathed in the damp air, the tension of the last day finally fading. He’d slept well despite Rufus’s genteel snoring and was keen to meet the contact Winterbourne had arranged for them.
There was also the matter of Leon’s secretive informant.
The Frenchman had dispatched a note to their hotel before they’d left Paris yesterday, promising to send news about his mysterious collaborator by the time they reached Brussels.
The Belgian city felt different from Paris—quieter, more reserved, with an undercurrent of magic that hummed beneath the cobblestones like a sleeping beast.
“Charming weather,” Rufus muttered, turning up his collar against the rain.
“At least it’s not snowing,” Shaw said cheerfully.
The forensic mage had spent the journey poring over a book on Belgian magical customs and seemed determined to maintain her enthusiasm regardless of atmospheric conditions.
Their hotel was a stately establishment on the Place Royale, its cream stone façade overlooking the manicured gardens of the Royal Park. The rooms were comfortable if not lavish.
Evander barely had time to wash the travel dust from his face before a knock came at his door. It was Rufus.
“Inspector Willems is downstairs,” he reported. “He’s waiting in a private parlour.”
Evander straightened his cravat and followed the inspector down to the ground floor, where the others had already assembled.
The man who rose to greet them was not quite what Evander had expected.
Inspector Boele Willems was short and rotund. He bore a shock of ginger hair that defied all attempts at grooming, a waistcoat that strained heroically against his ample middle, and spectacles that sat slightly askew on his nose. When he smiled, it was with the vague benevolence of a country parson who’d wandered into the wrong profession.
“Duke Ravenwood! Such an honour, such an honour indeed.” Willems pumped Evander’s hand with enthusiastic vigour, nearly dislodging his spectacles in the process. “Commander Winterbourne speaks most highly of you. Most highly!”
Evander exchanged a brief glance with Viggo. The Brute’s expression betrayed nothing, but Evander caught the slight tightening around his eyes.
“Inspector Willems.” Evander extracted his hand before it suffered permanent damage. “Thank you for meeting with us.”
“Oh, think nothing of it, nothing at all.” Willems beamed at the others. “And this must be your team. Wonderful!”
He kissed Ginny and Shaw’s hands with deference and fawned over Viggo, even going as far as to request an autograph from the Brute. He gestured expansively toward a cluster of chairs arranged near the fireplace.
