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Solomon lowered his brows.“We’re hardly a missing person’s agency, Razor.”

“You’ll want to hear her out.”Finn’s voice hardened as he met Viggo’s gaze.“Her brother works for a nobleman.An alchemist by the name of Lord Fairfax.”

Viggo stiffened.Lord Aldous Fairfax was Ginny Hartley’s new business partner and a man known to be generous to thralls and charities supporting the magicless.Viggo had met the man for the first time when he’d attended an intimate dinner party at Ginny’s home a few days ago.

He could tell from Solomon and Finn’s tense expressions that the same troubling thought going through his mind had crossed theirs too.Their friend and fellow Brute Magnus Graveoak had been a recent victim of dark mages.He too had vanished under mysterious circumstances two years ago, only to reappear and attack Evander and Ginny’s carriage as they’d returned from a ball.

Viggo came to a decision, rose, and took his seat behind the desk.“Bring her in.”

Finn disappeared and returned moments later with a young woman whose threadbare shawl and calloused hands spoke of a life of hard labour.She clutched her worn bonnet nervously, her eyes darting around the chamber with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

“This is Emma Simmons,” Finn introduced.His voice grew kind.“Emma, this is Viggo Stonewall.”

The woman curtseyed awkwardly.“Thank you for seeing me, sir.I—I didn’t know where else to turn.”She swallowed heavily.

Viggo gestured to the empty chair next to Solomon.“Please, sit.”

Emma perched on the edge of the seat, her back ramrod straight.

“Tell us about your brother,” Viggo said.

She blinked and took a shaky breath.

“His name is Tom, sir.Tom Simmons,” she said in a rush.“He works—worked—as a footman for Lord Fairfax, in Belgravia.Two nights ago, he didn’t come home.”Her voice caught.“He always comes home, sir, even when his Lordship keeps him late.”She gazed pleadingly at Viggo.

Solomon frowned.“His Lordship keeps him late?”

Emma blinked.“Oh.Oh, it’s not what you think, sir!”she protested, some colour returning to her cheeks.“Lord Fairfax is nothing but kind to the thralls in his service.It’s just, he’s a busy man and sometimes his work does not finish until the dark hours.”

Viggo kept his face impassive as he observed the young woman.It reassured him that his first impression of Aldous Fairfax had been correct.

“Has your brother been in Lord Fairfax’s service for a while?”

Emma nodded jerkily.“Yes, sir.It will be a year come the spring.”

“Why did you not report this to the police?”Solomon asked gently.

Emma’s fingers clenched on her bonnet.

“I did.I reported it to a couple of bobbies who work our neighbourhood,” she said stiffly.“They wouldn’t even take down his name.”Her tone turned bitter.“Said he probably found himself a girl or got drunk in some tavern.”Her hands twisted in her lap.“But Tom’s not like that.He’s steady.Responsible-like.”

Viggo frowned at the mention of the coppers’ reaction.Although he’d met and liked many of Evander’s work colleagues, there was no denying that contempt for thralls still ran high within the halls of the Met.

“Has Lord Fairfax enquired about your brother’s absence?”he pressed.

“That’s the strange thing, sir.When I went to the house to ask after him this morning, the butler claimed Tom had sent them a note yesterday to give his notice.The butler was surprised by his sudden resignation.He told me Tom was a well-liked member of the staff.”Emma’s voice trembled as she stared wide-eyed at them, her desperation clear.“But Tom would never— He wouldn’t leave without telling me, without making sure our family was provided for.I fear something terrible may have happened to him.”

Viggo exchanged a guarded look with Solomon and Finn.

“You did right to come to us, Miss Simmons,” he told the young woman quietly.“Rest assured, we shall look into your brother’s disappearance.”

Relief flooded Emma’s face.She sagged in the chair.“Thank you, sir.”

The police carriageturned onto a broad, tree-lined avenue in Bloomsbury.Elegant townhouses and shops gave way to the imposing collection of buildings that housed the Royal Institute for the Arcane as they neared the end of the cul-de-sac.

Evander gazed at the familiar frontage as the carriage pulled to a stop before the impressive wrought-iron gates.Unlike the more modern University College nearby, the Institute wholly embraced its medieval origins, its gothic spires and buttresses rising as if to pierce the very sky and the stone eyes of the enchanted gargoyles perched along its rooflines and gutters following visitors and students with unsettling attentiveness.

Evander’s chest tightened a little.He had fond memories of the place that had witnessed his formative years as a mage.But he also recollected many instances that had left a bitter taste in his mouth.And they’d had everything to do with the complex politics that simmered beneath the Institute’s venerable facade, including the elitism that had seen too many who aspired to gain entrance to the prestigious establishment quietly leaving after getting a taste of the unfavourable treatment it bestowed to those whose only fault lay in coming from the wrong lineage.