Chapter 20
She gestured toward a settee, then arranged herself on the chaise longue with the casual elegance of a woman accustomed to being watched. Viggo remained standing until Ginny shot him a pointed look.
“We need information, Clementine,” Ginny said once they were settled and a maid had delivered glasses of wine so dark it was nearly black.
Clementine arched a delicate eyebrow. “About?”
“About strange disappearances involving researchers and scholars. Anyone connected to arcane studies and the Paris Institute who’s vanished or died under suspicious circumstances.”
“And about mages who practice dark magic,” Viggo added in a hard voice.
Clementine’s carefully composed expression shifted. The playful seductress vanished, replaced by something harder. More dangerous.
“You’re not the first to ask such questions.”
Viggo leaned forward, his pulse quickening. “Who else has been asking?”
“A young man from Brussels. Three weeks ago.” Clementine’s fingers traced the stem of her glass. “He was investigating the deaths of former members of an obscure magical society, here in Paris. Les Prophètes Illuminés.”
Viggo exchanged a loaded glance with Ginny.
“What happened to him?” Ginny asked quietly.
“He disappeared.” Though Clementine’s voice held no inflection, her eyes had grown watchful. “Four days after he sat where you’re sitting now, asking questions very similar to yours. His body was found in the Seine a week later. The authorities ruled it a drowning.” She paused. “I know better.”
A chill settled in Viggo’s gut. “You think he was murdered.”
“I think asking certain questions in Paris has become remarkably dangerous as of late.” Clementine rose and moved to a lacquered cabinet, from which she withdrew a leather notebook.
“Before he vanished, my young friend left this with me for safekeeping. He seemed to think someone was following him.”
She handed the notebook to Viggo. He opened it carefully and scanned pages filled with cramped handwriting in Dutch; names, dates, and from his crude understanding of the language, cryptic notations that would likely take hours to decipher.
“He was compiling a list,” Ginny murmured with a frown as she read over his shoulder. “Disappearances going back years. Not just in France, but in Belgium, Austria, and Prussia.”
Viggo met Clementine’s dark gaze. “Are you certain you should be showing us this?” he said quietly.
“What’s been happening in London has not escaped the attention of the authorities here.
” Clementine returned to her chaise, all pretence of flirtation abandoned.
“In the past month, two of my informants have vanished. Both had been asking questions about exclusive gatherings attended by wealthy patrons with very particular interests.”
“A government job?” Ginny asked shrewdly.
Clementine nodded.
Viggo’s grip tightened on the notebook. “What kind of interests?”
“The forbidden kind.” Clementine’s voice dropped.
“Dark magic. Arcane rituals. Things that would make even the most hardened criminal blanch.” She met his gaze directly.
“There are whispers of a grand plan afoot. Something significant being planned—something that could alter the geopolitical landscape of the entire continent. My sources couldn’t tell me more before they disappeared.
” Her gaze flitted to the notebook. “I believe your group is best equipped to utilise the information in there.”
“These gatherings,” Viggo said urgently. “Do you know where they’re held?”
“They move. Different locations each time, different cities.” Clementine hesitated.
For the first time, he saw fear flicker across her features.
“But there is one tonight,” she confessed reluctantly in the face of his probing stare. “Here in Paris.”
Viggo straightened. “Where?”
“A private residence in the Faubourg Saint-Germain. Very exclusive, very secretive.” Clementine’s amber eyes bore into his.
“The host is Viscount Alphonse Etienne Brassard. Old money, older connections. He’s been hosting these salons for years, but lately the guest list has changed.
Darker names. People even I hesitate to cross. ”
“We need to get inside,” Viggo said flatly.
Clementine’s laugh was humourless. “Impossible. Brassard vets every guest personally. You’d need an introduction from someone he trusts implicitly and even then—“
“I can get us in.”
Viggo and Clementine both turned to stare at Ginny.
She met their eyes with studied nonchalance.
“Brassard and I have met. Several times. He’s been trying to secure my company for years.
” Her lip curled with distaste. “I’ve always refused, but he’s persistent.
If I were to suddenly accept his invitation, he’d be too delighted to question my motives. ”
Viggo’s stomach clenched. “Ginny—“
“I know what I’m doing.” Her eyes met his, sharp and determined.
“This is what I’m good at, Viggo. Playing a role, gathering information whilst powerful men think I’m nothing more than a pretty ornament.
” She smiled thinly. “Besides, I won’t be going alone.
I’ll need escorts. Wealthy, impressive men to explain my sudden change of heart. ”
Viggo frowned. “You want us to play the part of rich patrons?”
Ginny dipped her chin. “Evander and Fairbridge would fit the part. Foreign industrialists, perhaps. Rich enough to be interesting but obscure enough that Brassard can’t easily verify their backgrounds.
They could wear Illusion Amulets. Evander’s reputation stretches far abroad after all and someone may very well recognise him.
Fairbridge will likely want to keep his face out of the picture too.
” She cocked her head to the side and scrutinised Viggo.
“You could do with one too. There will be no hiding the fact that you’re a Brute otherwise. ”
“That is a dangerous proposition, Genevieve,” Clementine said quietly.
Both women had worked in the same shadows long enough to understand exactly what Ginny was proposing.
“Brassard won’t take kindly to deception if he uncovers your scheme.
And by that, I mean none of you might make it out of there alive. ”
“People are dying, Clem,” Ginny stated, her voice hardening. “Thralls and mages alike are disappearing in England and on the continent. If there’s even a chance we can learn something useful at this gathering, I’m willing to take the risk.”
Clementine studied her for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
“Very well. I can provide you with background information on Brassard’s known associates.
But Genevieve—“ She reached out and grasped Ginny’s hand.
“Be careful. Whatever is happening in that house, it’s attracted the attention of people far more powerful than provincial viscounts.
My government contacts have been unusually tight-lipped about the whole affair, which tells me someone very high up is involved. ”
They spent the next two hours extracting every scrap of information Clementine possessed; Brassard’s habits, his known associates, the layout of his residence, the kinds of conversations that might be overheard at his gatherings.
By the time they left, Viggo’s head was spinning with names and connections.
It was afternoon when they emerged onto the street, Viggo carrying a dossier full of information and the notebook left by the dead Belgian.
“Solomon and Rufus are going to hate this plan,” Ginny observed candidly as they walked toward the nearest cab stand.
“Solomon and Rufus are going to hate being left behind more.”
A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “True enough.”
They made their way to their hotel and found Solomon waiting in the lobby, his features taut with barely contained tension. He fell into step beside them as they headed for the stairs, his voice low and urgent.
“Our operatives have heard things. Rumours about some strange shipments that have been coming through the docks. The last one was two nights ago. The crates were marked as wine, but the dockers who handled them said they were too heavy. And cold.” His jaw tightened. “Unnaturally cold.”
Viggo’s gut clenched. “Where did they go?”
“That’s the problem. They vanished. No delivery records, no destination. Just gone.” Solomon’s expression darkened. “But one of our men followed the wagon before he lost it. It was headed toward the Faubourg Saint-Germain.”
Ginny drew a sharp breath and slowed, exchanging a startled glance with Viggo. “That’s where Brassard’s residence is.”
Solomon stared at her. “Who the hell is Brassard?”
A commotion behind them had them stopping and looking over their shoulders.
Evander and his team had stormed inside the hotel and were headed swiftly across the foyer.
Viggo stiffened at his grim expression.
It was clear something had happened.