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Viggo frowned.“Yes.”

He passed his lantern to Leon and reached up to test the grate.As expected, it was fixed solidly into the stone.Muscles bunched in his arms as he strained.He ripped out the grating with nary a grunt, revealing a dimly lit chamber of some kind.The padlock splashed into the sewers at his feet.

Leon’s mouth flattened to a thin line.“I guess that’s one way of opening it.”

“It was the fastest method,” Viggo said succinctly.

He grabbed the edges of the opening and hoisted himself up with ease, his powerful arms making light work of his weight.Once inside, he crouched and surveyed his surroundings.

The room was small and unadorned, its stone walls bare save for a series of hooks.Stacked crates framed a closed door opposite him.

“All clear,” he called down softly.“Come up one at a time.”

Leon ascended first, the mage moving with the fluid grace Viggo had grudgingly come to admire over the past few days.The Frenchman’s presence in the city might be a source of tension between them, but his physical capabilities were undeniable.The Met officers and mages followed, each one helped up by Viggo.

They quickly disposed of their waders and galoshes.

“Where are we?”whispered one of the mages, a thin woman with spectacles who specialised in defensive wards.

“Some kind of storage room.”Viggo moved towards the door.“Stay alert.We don’t know how many people might be down here.”

He pressed his ear to the wooden surface and listened for any sound of movement beyond.None reached him.He tested the handle.It turned smoothly in his grasp.

“Ready?”Viggo asked, glancing back at Leon.

The Frenchman nodded, his hands already glowing with the pale light of his magic.

Viggo eased the door open and winced at the faint creak of its hinges.The corridor beyond was empty, the passage illuminated by enchanted sconces that cast a sickly glow across the stone floor.The air here carried a peculiar scent.

He couldn’t sense magic the way mages could, but he’d been around it enough to recognise its effects.The atmosphere in this place was heavy, oppressive, as if the very air was saturated with malevolent intent.

From the way Leon’s face tightened, he was right on the money.

“Which way?”the Frenchman asked.

Viggo consulted the map Richfield had given them.“Left.If the facility layout matches the professors’ journals, there should be a junction ahead that leads to the holding cells.”

They moved cautiously down the corridor.

It ended in a T-junction, just as the map had indicated.To the right, Viggo could see a series of doors interspersed along the passage, while the left branch continued unbroken into darkness.

Viggo indicated the right path with a jerk of his head.“The cells should be this way.”

Leon frowned.“How can you be so sure?”

“Because that’s where I’d put them,” Viggo replied simply.

Leon studied him for a moment before nodding.“Lead on.”

They proceeded down the right-hand corridor and passed several doors.A quick inspection revealed them to be storage areas and small laboratories.Viggo peered through an observation window in one and saw benches covered in arcane instruments and vessels containing mysterious substances.The sight made his stomach turn.

The faint sound of voices reached him after they’d advanced another thirty feet—a low murmur punctuated by an occasional thump and scrape.

Viggo stiffened and raised a hand, halting the group.

Leon moved to his side, his expression tense.“How many?”he whispered.

“At least two, possibly more.”