Evander crossed to him and took the paper. It was a letter, dated less than five years ago, written in German. The handwriting was cramped but legible. He frowned as he deciphered the words.
“It’s correspondence between researchers.”
“It looks like they were trying to locate the Codex,” Fairbridge confirmed grimly. “And they mention a name. Someone they believed had more information than anyone else in Europe.”
He indicated a passage farther down the letter.
It referenced a man by the name of Benedict Simek, an occult researcher living in Prague.
CHAPTER 31
Finding Benedict Simekproved to be far more difficult than any of them had anticipated.
The man had buried himself so deep in Prague’s underbelly that evenNightshade’s extensive network of contacts came up empty for most of the following day. It wasn’t until late afternoon, after Ginny and Fairbridge had pooled their own resources with Solomon and Viggo, that they finally caught a break.
“He’s in Nové Mesto,” Solomon announced, striding into the hotel’s private dining room where the rest of them awaited news. “An old tenement building near the river. The informant says the place doesn’t appear on any official maps. Simek warded years ago to keep unwanted visitors away.”
Evander frowned. “I can’t say I blame him. If he knows even half of what we suspect he knows about the Codex, he’s been living with a target on his back for years.”
They set out as dusk began to paint Prague’s rooftops in shades of violet and grey. The city felt different at this hour, older somehow, the weight of centuries pressing down on its winding streets and ancient bridges. Viggo kept pace besideEvander as they navigated the maze of cobblestone alleys, his senses sharp despite the fatigue tugging at his limbs.
None of them had slept well after their excursion to the library.
Evander had returned the key and map to Pavel that morning and thanked the archivist for his help.
The address Solomon had obtained led them to a narrow lane that dead-ended against the crumbling wall of an abandoned church. At first glance, there was nothing there—just moss-covered stone and the skeletal remains of a wrought-iron gate.
“Are you certain this is the right place?” Rufus asked dubiously.
Solomon consulted the scrap of paper in his hand. “This is what our contact gave me.”
Evander stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. Viggo watched him extend a hand toward the seemingly empty space before the wall.
“There’s a concealment ward here,” Evander murmured.
“Can you break it?” Fairbridge asked.
“We don’t need to. We can undo it.” Evander arched an eyebrow at Shaw. “Did you bring it, Miss Shaw?”
The forensic mage triumphantly extracted a vial of silvery liquid from the small bag looped around her body. “Just like you told me, your Grace.”
Viggo stared. He’d last seen something similar in Whitley’s lab.
“Isn’t that the neutralising agent Mrs. Scarborough created to counter trigger wards?”
Shaw nodded. “She refined it so it can undo concealment charms.”
She applied a generous amount where Evander indicated.
Viggo tensed as the air rippled like water.
The illusion peeled away, revealing what had been hidden behind it.
A narrow building stood wedged between the church wall and a derelict warehouse, its façade so weathered it seemed to blend into the surrounding stone. The windows were dark, the door reinforced with iron bands engraved with runes.
Viggo exchanged a guarded look with Evander. It seemed Simek was not only reclusive but exceedingly paranoid.
Their satisfaction at finding the place curdled as they approached the building. Evander froze in his tracks, wariness tightening his features. Fairbridge paused beside him, shoulders knotting.
