Chapter 34
The Café Hausle occupied a corner of Gumpendorfer Strasse. A relic from another age, its facade was adorned with faded gilt lettering and its windows clouded by decades of tobacco smoke.
Viggo followed Ginny through the entrance the next day. The heavy door closed behind them with a whisper of warm air and the rich aroma of roasted coffee. He scanned the interior guardedly.
Thonet chairs were clustered around marble-topped tables, velvet banquettes lined the walls, and an enormous brass chandelier cast amber light across a ceiling stained brown by countless cigars.
Newspapers hung from wooden racks near the entrance, their Gothic script incomprehensible to Viggo’s eyes.
Dotting the tables and corners were elderly gentlemen nursing cups of coffee while they conversed or read their paper.
“Charming,” Viggo muttered.
“The Viennese take their coffee houses seriously.” Ginny’s gaze swept the room. “A man can sit here all day with a single cup of mélange and no one will ask him to leave. It makes them excellent places for discreet conversation.”
A waiter in a tailcoat that had seen better days materialised beside them, his expression suggesting he’d witnessed every variation of human folly and found it all rather tedious.
“Gn?dige Frau,” he intoned. “Mein Herr.”
Ginny rattled off something in German that made the waiter’s eyebrows climb toward his receding hairline. He nodded stiffly and led them toward the back of the establishment, past the billiard tables and through an archway hung with burgundy curtains.
The private room beyond was smaller and quieter. It was occupied by a single figure seated at a corner table.
The man rose as they entered. He looked to be about fifty, with a face that might have been handsome once but now bore the ravages of hard living. Deep lines bracketed his mouth and his eyes held the wary vigilance of a fox who’d escaped too many traps.
“Genevieve.” His voice was a low rasp, roughened by smoke or illness or both. “You look well.”
“Franz.” Ginny extended her hand, which he kissed with old-world courtesy. “You look terrible.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his weathered features. “Vienna has not been kind to me as of late.” His gaze sharpened as it slid to Viggo. “And this would be?”
“An associate. He can be trusted.”
Franz studied Viggo for a moment, assessing him with the air of someone accustomed to judging threats. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him. He gestured toward the empty chairs.
“Please. Sit.”
The waiter reappeared with coffee, a small pot of cream, and a plate of pastries that looked like they could rot teeth. Viggo positioned himself where he could watch both the door and the curtained archway.
Franz noticed and didn’t say a word.
“Your message was cryptic,” he told Ginny once the waiter had withdrawn. “Even for you.”
“The matter required discretion.” Ginny added cream to her coffee with precise movements and sat back, her cup cradled in her hands. “We’re investigating certain activities in Vienna. More precisely, incidents involving dark magic and a specific name.”
Franz went very still. “What name?”
“Mordecai Winchester.”
The colour drained from Franz’s face so quickly Viggo thought the man might faint. His hand trembled as he set down his cup, coffee sloshing over the rim.
Ginny looked surprised at this reaction, but hid it swiftly.
“Where did you hear that name?” Franz mumbled.
“Does it matter?” Ginny leaned forward, her tone implacable. “What can you tell us about him?”
Franz swallowed. When he spoke, his words came haltingly, as if dragged from somewhere deep and reluctant.
“Winchester was a monster. An earth mage of considerable power who took pleasure in causing pain. Ten years ago, he murdered three of his friends. But it was the way he did it that made him vilified by everyone.” Franz’s jaw tightened.
“He used a Blood Magic ritual, one so vile that even hardened criminals were sickened when they heard of it.”
Viggo straightened and exchanged a startled look with Ginny. “Blood Magic?”
Ginny carefully put her cup down. “We heard about that incident,” she said, maintaining a neutral tone. “There was no mention of Blood Magic being involved.”
A humourless sound escaped Franz. “That’s because the Arcane Division investigator in charge of the case at that time was too scared to leave any record of it.
But Winchester used that nasty power alright.
I should know.” He met their stares, his own eyes hunted.
“I was one of the criminals he fooled into providing him with the necessary ingredients for that ritual. I helped the authorities build the case against him in exchange for a pardon.”
Viggo digested this for a moment.
“Winchester has been seen in Vienna,” the Brute said quietly. “Recently.”
Franz flinched as if struck. “That’s impossible! I watched him hang. I even saw them cut his body down and bury him in an unmarked grave.”
“A senior inspector in the Arcane Division has several witnesses who can attest to his current presence in Vienna,” Ginny said flatly.
Franz’s composure crumbled. He pressed a hand to his lower face, his fingers shaking and his breathing growing ragged.
“Then God help us all,” he whispered. “Because if Winchester has returned, it means someone—”
“Brought him back,” Viggo finished in a hard voice. “Not quite Lazarus rising as you suspect, but rather rescued from certain death by someone with considerable power.”
“All we know of Winchester’s employer is his initial,” Ginny said quietly. “They call him ‘I.’ He is a dark mage of immense resources and influence. If he and his accomplices succeed in their plans, the face of England and possibly even Europe will never be the same again.”
Viggo shot a glance at Ginny. Though her expression remained composed, he heard the trepidation underscoring her voice. Like him and Evander, the gravity of their mission had started to weigh on each and every member of their team.
If they failed to stop “I”, the implications would be catastrophic.
“He spoke of a messiah, during his trial,” Franz confessed, his expression dazed. “A figure who would remake the magical world. We thought it the ravings of a madman.”
Icy fingers danced down Viggo’s spine. The parallels to Renwick and Musgrave were impossible to ignore.
“What else?” the Brute pressed. “What do you know about Winchester that could help us find him?”
Franz hesitated, clearly weighing risks.
“I am not sure if this has anything to do with him, but three days ago, an old friend came to me,” he finally said. “Not a criminal but a businessman. His daughter is a research mage at the University. She went missing a while back and was recently found in London.”
Viggo exchanged a glance with Ginny. It was likely one of the mages he and Evander had rescued from Musgrave’s lair, underneath the Royal Institute.
Franz frowned. “He’d been investigating her disappearance against the wishes of the authorities and began to hear whispers in certain underground circles.
” His voice grew strained. “Dark mages are gathering. Not in Vienna, as some initially suspected, but somewhere close. He said they were planning something. Something significant.”
He reached into his coat, withdrew a folded paper, and slid it across the table.
Ginny unfolded the paper. It was a list of names, perhaps a dozen, with addresses and brief notations beside each.
“Who are these people?” she asked with a frown.
“Missing persons. Mages and researchers who’ve vanished over the past few months, not just from Vienna but other cities and countries.” Franz swallowed. “No bodies. No ransom demands. They simply disappeared, as if the earth had swallowed them whole.”
Viggo studied the list over Ginny’s shoulder, his jaw tightening.
“Did he find anything that connects them?”
“No.” Franz faltered. “But he believes dark mages were involved in their disappearances, the same as his daughter.”
Ginny folded the paper and tucked it into her reticule. “Thank you, Franz. I have one more question.” She kept her voice carefully neutral. “Have you heard anything that could connect the Helnweins to these events?”
Though surprise jolted Viggo at the question, he didn’t show it.
Franz’s expression grew shuttered. “The Helnweins are untouchable. They have been for generations. And they would rather destroy their entire dynasty than get involved with dark magic.”
This seemed to satisfy Ginny.
The meeting concluded shortly. Franz departed first, slipping out through a back entrance with the furtive haste of a man who had demons on his heels.
Viggo and Ginny returned to the main room of the coffee house and wove between the marble tables and their newspaper-reading occupants toward the exit.
“Why did you ask him about the Helnweins?” Viggo asked Ginny curiously as they stepped out into the pale afternoon light.
Gumpendorfer Strasse was busy with foot traffic and carriages, Viennese citizens going about their daily business with no awareness of the danger lurking in their city.
“I didn’t want any nasty surprises waiting for us tonight,” she replied in a hard voice. “Evander has been betrayed many a times by people he initially trusted.”
Viggo mulled this over and concluded that Evander was truly lucky to have friends like Ginny and Rufus in his life, just as he did with Solomon, Finn, and Magnus.
They had just turned a corner when he felt it.
The prickle at the back of his neck. The one that came from being watched.
Viggo didn’t break stride and glanced casually at the window of a bakery they passed.
“Two men,” he murmured to Ginny. “The building across the road, twenty feet from our position. I think they’ve been tracking us since we left the cafe.”
“I noticed.” Her voice was equally low. “There’s another up ahead. Leaning against the gaslight, pretending to read a newspaper.”
Viggo spotted the man Ginny had mentioned. A heavyset figure in a brown coat, he was holding his newspaper at entirely the wrong angle for actually reading. He folded it and began walking in their direction.
“Suggestions?” Viggo asked quietly, tension oozing through his veins.
“The Naschmarkt is two streets east,” Ginny said calmly. “It’s crowded this time of day. Plenty of opportunities to lose unwanted companions.”
They continued walking at a casual pace, Ginny looping her arm through Viggo’s like they were on a pleasant afternoon stroll.
Viggo heard footsteps behind them.
The man ahead was already fifteen feet away and closing in.
Ginny steered him neatly into a narrow street. The buildings pressed close on either side, the shadows lengthening between the facades creating pools of darkness that would easily facilitate an attack.
There were three sets of steps following them now. Viggo felt their stalkers’ presence like a weight against his back. He could tell these weren’t common street thugs. They were trained and likely armed with more than just conventional weapons.
The Naschmarkt appeared ahead, a riot of colour and noise.
Vendors hawked their wares from wooden stalls draped with awnings, their voices competing with the clatter of cart wheels and the haggling of customers.
The air was thick with competing scents, from spices and fresh bread to the metallic tang of raw fish packed in ice.
Ginny navigated the crowd easily, ducking between stalls and using the press of bodies to obscure their trail. Viggo stayed close, his bulk creating a path through the throng.
A gap appeared ahead. Ginny grabbed Viggo’s hand and ducked into a side alley so narrow they had to turn sideways to pass. It smelled of rotting vegetables and something fouler.
They emerged onto a courtyard that led to another street.
The market’s chaos faded behind them as they swiftly navigated the quieter neighbourhood.
“Did we lose them?” Ginny asked, slightly breathless as she looked over her shoulder.
Viggo couldn’t feel any immediate threat, nor the wrongness in the air that would indicate dark magic or hostile intent.
“For now.”
They took a circuitous route back to the hotel, doubling back twice and using every counter-surveillance technique they had learned in years of navigating hostile territory. By the time they reached the K?rntner Ring, the Brute was reasonably certain they hadn’t been followed.
“You know, you’re really good at this,” Viggo muttered as their hotel came into sight.
Ginny arched an eyebrow. “So you’re saying I’m not just a pretty face?”
Viggo sighed. “Just take the compliment.”
Solomon was waiting in the lobby, his posture deceptively casual.
“Trouble?” he asked quietly as they approached.
“We were followed from the coffee house,” Ginny confirmed. “Professionals. Three of them.”
Solomon’s expression darkened. “That was fast. We’ve barely been in the city a day.”
“Which means someone is watching for us specifically,” Viggo said stonily.
They made their way up to the suite, where Evander and the others had already gathered. The duke looked up as they entered. His blue eyes narrowed when he registered Viggo’s taut expression.
“What happened?”
Viggo and Ginny gave a terse summary of their meeting with Franz and the subsequent pursuit. Evander’s face grew increasingly grim as they spoke.
Ginny passed him the list Franz had given them.
“More missing mages and researchers,” Fairbridge muttered, reading over Evander’s shoulder. “It makes you wonder what they need this many people for.”
“Nothing good,” Evander said sourly.
“Any luck with the Arcane Division?” Viggo asked.
Evander shook his head, his frustration clear. “We didn’t uncover anything new. Shaw analysed their findings and confirmed they matched our own.”
The forensic mage nodded, looking fairly disappointed at not having unearthed any fresh clues.
“Let’s hope Laurenz Helnwein provides us with some answers,” Rufus said tensely.