Chapter 35
The Vienna State Opera blazed with light against the evening sky, its Renaissance facade illuminated by dozens of gas lamps and enchanted orbs that transformed the building into a beacon of culture and wealth.
Evander adjusted his white gloves as their carriage joined the queue of vehicles depositing elegantly dressed patrons at the entrance. None of them had packed outfits for an opera. Luckily, Ginny knew a couple of modistes in the city and had them suitably attired by nightfall.
The knot in Evander’s stomach had more to do with what Laurenz might reveal to them tonight, than with the eyes that would soon be upon them. The strains of an orchestra tuning drifted through the crisp night air. He glanced to his right.
Viggo was resplendent in formal evening wear beside him. The Brute’s black tailcoat, white waistcoat, and perfectly knotted bow tie brought out his formidable physique. The effect was somewhat ruined by his expression.
“You look like you’re on your way to the gaol,” Evander said drily.
“And here I thought the royal reception in Brussels was bad,” Viggo retorted glumly. “This is worse.”
“I still don’t understand why we all had to come,” Solomon grumbled from the seat opposite, tugging at his collar like he was on a leash. “Surely a smaller party would be less conspicuous.”
Ginny batted his hand away. “Stop messing with your cravat. It took me an age to fix it for you.”
“Laurenz Helnwein requested the full team,” Evander replied while Solomon’s expression turned long suffering. “He wants to assess everyone who’ll be involved in protecting his family’s secrets.”
“And four hours of Wagner is the price of admission,” Rufus said.
The inspector looked about as thrilled as Viggo and Solomon to be there.
Shaw fidgeted next to him.
“What’s the matter?” Rufus asked.
“It’s my bosom, sir.”
A resigned expression dawned on Rufus’s face at this. “What about it?”
“It’s this dress Ginny lent me. It’s a little loose, since I am not as well-endowed as her in the chest area.” Shaw adjusted her cleavage with a grimace. “I fear I might accidentally expose myself.”
Horror widened Rufus’s eyes.
“Remember—she’s the best forensic mage in England,” Evander told him.
Their carriage finally reached the entrance. A liveried footman opened the door.
They emerged into a sea of Vienna’s elite. Women in elaborate gowns dripping with jewels moved alongside men in immaculate evening dress, silk rustling and the murmur of German conversation filling the cold air.
Evander extended his arm to Ginny. She was wearing an emerald gown that complemented her eyes and diamonds that caught the lamplight with every movement.
“Shall we?” he murmured.
Her smile was the very picture of aristocratic elegance as she looped her arm around his, though her eyes held a glint he was all too familiar with.
They had played this game dozens of times before, in the balls and party rooms of London.
Their group drew curious glances as they climbed the stone steps to the tall doors and stepped inside a foyer that felt like a living jewel box.
Even Viggo looked impressed as he gazed at the polished marble and warm stone surrounding them.
They ascended the grand staircase with a steady flow of patrons, passing beneath crystal chandeliers that cast dazzling prisms of light across the floors.
The interior of the opera house was even more magnificent than the exterior. Tier upon tier of gilded boxes rose toward a painted ceiling depicting scenes from classical mythology, the whole space designed to overwhelm the senses and remind visitors of their insignificance before such grandeur.
Shaw’s jaw dropped open as she stared at the vast space.
Inspector Richter met them in the vestibule, his evening attire polished and his bearing no less commanding.
“Duke Ravenwood.” He shook Evander’s hand and greeted the rest with a brisk dip of his chin. “Laurenz is waiting in his box. I’ll take you to him.”
They followed Richter through corridors lined with red velvet and past alcoves where patrons lingered with champagne glasses, to a private door on the third tier. Richter knocked twice, paused, then knocked once more.
The door swung open to reveal a middle-aged man.
Laurenz Helnwein was tall and spare, with silver hair and pale eyes that held the sharp intelligence of a chess master. His evening clothes were impeccably tailored and a heavy signet ring bearing a family crest adorned his left hand.
“Duke Ravenwood.” His English was precise, accented but fluent. “I have heard much about you.” His gaze swept over their assembled group. “Please, all of you, come in.”
The box was spacious enough to accommodate their party comfortably, the plush seats arranged to provide an excellent view of the stage below. Heavy curtains could be drawn for privacy. Laurenz did so now, muffling the sounds of the filling auditorium.
“I appreciate you meeting with us, Herr Helnwein,” Evander said once they were settled.
Laurenz glanced at his cousin. “Klaus tells me you’re investigating the dark mages who have been plaguing our city.” His face grew troubled. “And that you believe their interest in my family is connected to something called the Crimson Codex.”
“We do.” Evander leaned forward. “We have reason to believe your family possesses a fragment of that text. A fragment these dark mages are after.” He paused. “We heard Mordecai Winchester paid you a visit.”
Laurenz’s eyes darkened.
“Indeed he did.” He was silent for a moment. “You’re aware that the Codex is not a single book but a collection of fragments the First Archmage deliberately divided and hid across Europe?”
Evander nodded briskly. “Yes. We learned this recently, in Prague.”
“Das Blutbuch. The Blood Book. That’s the Codex fragment my family possessed and that Winchester is after.”
The name made the hairs rise on Evander’s nape.
The orchestra below began its overture, the opening strains of Wagner filling the opera house. Laurenz seemed to draw strength from the music and squared his shoulders.
“What I am about to tell you has been a closely guarded secret of my family for generations,” he said quietly. “We have killed to protect it. We have died for it. And now, it seems, others are willing to do the same to possess it.”
He paused, gathering his thoughts.
“The fragment came into my family’s possession nearly three centuries ago.
It was given to my ancestor by a dying man who claimed it contained knowledge too dangerous to exist, yet too valuable to destroy.
” Laurenz’s voice grew heavy. “The man spoke of a catastrophe. A magical disaster that had occurred well before his own time, in a valley in the Alps.”
Evander’s pulse quickened. Beside him, he felt Fairbridge grow very still.
“What kind of catastrophe?” Evander asked carefully.
“The First Archmage.” Laurenz met his gaze. “You know of him?”
“Only legends.”
The lines around Laurenz’s eyes deepened with a weariness that spoke of the weight of centuries-old secrets. “Did you know he had an apprentice?”
A stunned hush befell them, the silence broken by the orchestra.
Evander’s mouth went dry. “An apprentice?”
“Yes.” Laurenz laced his fingers together on his lap.
“According to the man, when the First Archmage created the Codex, he had an apprentice at his side. He believed he was preserving wisdom for future generations.” His expression grew haunted.
“But power corrupts, Duke Ravenwood. Even the greatest among us are not immune. The apprentice stole the Codex and attempted to use it to amplify his abilities beyond their natural limits. He sought to become something more than human. Something greater than his master.” Laurenz’s voice dropped.
“He lost control and his magic erupted, causing a cataclysm that destroyed an entire valley. Thousands died in an instant—frozen solid where they stood.”
Ice spread through Evander’s veins. The parallel to Ophelia’s vision was impossible to ignore. London, frozen. Bodies in the streets, encased in ice. And he likely the cause of it all.
“Evander?” Viggo’s voice came from very far away.
Evander realised his hands were trembling. He clasped them together, willing himself to composure.
“What happened to the apprentice?” he managed.
“He survived, barely. The First Archmage saved him. But he was horrified by what his apprentice had done.” Laurenz ran a hand through his hair, disturbing his coiffure.
“He understood then that the Codex was too dangerous to exist in complete form. So he divided it into seven fragments and scattered them across the known world, each piece entrusted to a different guardian. He spent the remainder of his life ensuring that no one would ever be able to reassemble it.”
“Until now,” Fairbridge said quietly.
Laurenz inclined his head. “Until now. Winchester demanded I surrender Das Blutbuch. When I refused, he threatened my children.” His jaw tightened. “I and my family would die before we let that knowledge fall into the hands of such men.”
“Where is the fragment now?” Evander asked, blood thundering in his veins.
Below them, the opera had begun in earnest, soprano voices soaring through the auditorium.
“I no longer have it,” Laurenz admitted.
Evander recoiled, shock reverberating through him.
“What?” Viggo mumbled, equally stunned.
“Decades ago, when the threats first began—subtle then, mere whispers and break-ins—my father made a decision. He gave Das Blutbuch to a religious order for safekeeping. Monks who have guarded arcane secrets for centuries and who live in isolation in the Alps.”
Evander’s chest tightened. “Which monastery?”
“St. Aegidius.” Laurenz’s voice was barely audible above the music. “It sits on a cliff face above a lake, in the Austrian Alps. It is accessible by a narrow mountain path. My father believed it would be safe there, far from the reach of those who sought it.”
Evander exchanged a stiff glance with Viggo and the others. They had a location. After weeks of chasing shadows across Europe, they finally had somewhere concrete to search.
“We’ll need to—” Evander began.
A disturbance in the auditorium halted his words. The singers and the music had stumbled to a stop. Murmurs broke out below them.
Laurenz frowned and rose. Evander and the others followed him to the curtains. He parted them just as a scream reached them. Laurenz flinched and froze.
Goosebumps exploded across Evander’s skin as a familiar coldness leeched all the warmth from their surroundings and a revolting stench filled his nostrils.
“Dark mages,” Viggo spat as more screams filled the opera house.
Richter cursed.
The assembled patrons were scattering below, many falling in their panicked rush toward the exits. The singers and actors were deserting the stage and the orchestra pit was fast emptying.
Evander spotted dark mages emerging from corrupt shadows on the ground floor and in several boxes. Their gazes landed on him as one, darkness flaring at their fingertips. Instinct had him moving.
He yanked Laurenz back and engaged his magic.
The wall of wind and fire he raised blocked the dark magic bolts arrowing toward their box.
“Help the people evacuate the building!” Evander barked at the others over his shoulder. “Richter, stay here and guard Herr Helnwein!”
“Your Grace—” Fairbridge began.
Evander scowled. “Go! That’s an order!”
A muscle jumped in the spy’s jawline. He turned and ran out of the box after Rufus, Solomon, Ginny, and Shaw.
“I’m not leaving you,” Viggo ground out.
Evander hesitated before nodding curtly, his pulse racing.