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“Thirteen,” Viggo repeated, the word hanging heavy in the air.“And not a single one being investigated by the Met?”

Harriet shook her head regretfully, as did Hawk.

Solomon ran a hand through his hair, his face tight with annoyance.“To them, it probably looks like thralls moving on and seeking better employment opportunities elsewhere.Even if they’ve been reported as missing persons, no one’s going to be interested enough to connect these cases.”

“Or maybe no one cares,” Finn added bitterly.

Viggo did not bother correcting him.His mind raced as he rose from behind his desk.

“This has to be the work of a group of individuals or an organisation.We need to compile everything we have on these missing thralls.Names, dates, locations, employers.”He scowled.“There has to be a pattern to these disappearances.”He crossed the room to the map of London on the wall.For a moment, he wished he had a magical one, like Evander and Commander Winterbourne possessed.An idea came to him then.“Let’s mark out the locations ofNoctis Bloomtransactions and the last known positions of the missing thralls.”

Solomon narrowed his eyes.“So you think there might be a connection after all?”

Viggo dipped his head.“We should assume there is for now.”

“Shouldn’t we warn the thrall communities?”Finn asked, his tone flinty.

“The last thing we need is panic in the streets.”Viggo sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.“But you’re right,” he said reluctantly.He looked at Harriet.“Tell our agents to spread the news.Carefully, mind.Any thrall with connections to a noble should be wary of being outside on their own at night from now on.”

“And Evander?”Solomon said, his tone carefully neutral.“The Met should know about this, if they aren’t already aware.”

Viggo hesitated, briefly torn between his instinct to protect his own kind and his trust in Evander.

“Yes,” he said at last.“But I need to tell him in person.This isn’t something to be conveyed in a note.”

He glanced at the weathered clock on the wall.It was nearly four—he was supposed to meet Evander at Ginny’s for dinner in two hours.He came to a decision.

“Harriet, I will draft messages to Lady Hartley and Duke Ravenwood giving them my apologies and informing them I won’t be able to join them this evening.Can you please see to it that they get delivered immediately?”

Harriet nodded jerkily.

“Good.”Viggo’s voice hardened with resolve as he observed the room’s occupants.“We have work to do.”

Chapter9

Evander’s frustrationmounted as the afternoon wore on.Interviewing the faculty of the Royal Institute was proving to be an exercise in futility.Each professor they’d spoken to so far had been the picture of politeness and had offered vague platitudes about Professor Whitley’s character that revealed nothing of substance to aid the investigation into his disappearance.

“I’m afraid I cannot recall when I last saw Walter,” Professor Abbingdon Musgrave said affably.The specialist in magical artefacts and enhancements who shared an office on the same floor as Whitley adjusted his spectacles and pursed his lips thoughtfully.“Perhaps at the faculty meeting a week ago?He keeps to himself these days.”

“And what was his demeanour at this meeting?”Rufus pressed, his patience visibly fraying.

“Quite normal, I should think,” Musgrave replied with a shrug.“Walter has always been unhealthily preoccupied with his research.”

This pattern repeated itself with maddening consistency.Professor Whitley was described variously as “brilliant but distant,” “dedicated to his research,” and “not one for social engagements.”When pressed about the nature of his current work, his colleagues either claimed ignorance or cited academic confidentiality.

“It’s almost as if they’ve all been coached on what to say, your Grace,” Shaw muttered in disgust as they left yet another office.“Or rather, what not to say.”

Evander couldn’t disagree with her.The uniformity of the responses suggested coordination, though whether born of genuine concern for a colleague’s privacy or something more sinister remained unclear.

By late afternoon, they had interviewed eight professors and made precisely zero progress.Evander’s temples throbbed with the beginnings of a headache as they returned to Whitley’s chambers for a final examination before departing.

Luckily, Shaw had secured the sample ofNoctis Bloomshe had found in the room and had dispatched it to the AFD for analysis along with her preliminary report before she’d been escorted out of the premises.

Surprise shot through Evander when they entered the missing professor’s office.

Cecillia Harrington was waiting for them, shoulders stiff and figure silhouetted against the window as she gazed out at the courtyard below.She turned at their entrance, her expression troubled.

“I take it your interviews proved fruitless?”she asked, her tone suggesting she already knew the answer.