Page 24

It was raining when they arrived at Scotland Yard the next morning.

Viggo had accompanied Evander in his official capacity as Nightshade ’s representative and leader.

They planned to talk to Winterbourne about the thralls who had quietly vanished from the city and make the case for the Brute’s information guild and the Met to combine their efforts to find the culprits behind the disappeared magicless and the missing professors.

Tension knotted Evander’s shoulders as they crossed the courtyard under his umbrella, his wind magic protecting them from the worst of the late autumnal shower. Time was now of the essence, especially with Viggo and Nightshade having already set a trap in motion that involved Solomon. He frowned.

There was also the matter of James Harker, the dead thrall whose autopsy had now become a matter of utmost priority.

Evander cast a sidelong glance at Viggo when they entered the imposing edifice of the Met. He was impeccably dressed in a dark, tailored suit that complemented his powerful frame. To the mage’s complete lack of surprise, the Brute’s figure drew countless gazes as they crossed the busy foyer.

Although many had gotten used to seeing Viggo in the hallowed halls of the Met during the Renwick affair, the physical impact of his presence had not waned, especially after tales of his incredible feat in Charing Cross, witnessed by many a police officer, had gotten around.

Evander had convinced Viggo to wear the suit while they lay in bed two hours ago, still breathless from their passionate, morning lovemaking session.

“Winterbourne is a stickler for presentation,” he’d told the Brute when the latter had protested. “Consider it armour for the battle to come.”

Viggo had reluctantly acquiesced to his demand.

Despite the polished exterior the Brute presented as they navigated the corridors of Scotland Yard, there was no mistaking the tension radiating from him.

“It will be alright,” Evander said quietly. He brushed his knuckles against the back of Viggo’s hand. “I’ll be by your side.”

Viggo glanced at him, his face softening a little. “I know. Still, I hope he does not refuse my request.”

“He won’t.” Evander glanced at the rain pounding the windows they passed and lowered his brows. “Not if he knows what’s good for this city.”

A low chuckle had him giving the Brute a startled look.

“I hope you don’t intend to tell him to put it where the sun does not shine if we get into an argument.” Viggo’s dark eyes twinkled despite the gravity of the situation.

Evander flushed as he recalled saying exactly those words to Winterbourne a few weeks ago.

“I hardly think now is the time to be teasing me about that,” he chided.

Viggo leaned closer. “On the contrary.”

Evander shivered at the feel of the Brute’s hot breath on his ear.

“I’m sure you will admit that I did, in fact, put it pretty magnificently where the sun does not—” Viggo whispered in an amused tone.

Evander stamped on his foot. “Will you please behave?!” he hissed, scowling.

“You two should stop flirting in public,” someone said sharply behind them.

They stopped and turned.

Leon was coming down the passageway, his hair and his coat drenched. Judging from the faint circles under his eyes, he had not had a restful night.

“Look what the weather dragged in,” Viggo said darkly.

Leon’s jaw tightened as he ran his fingers through his wet locks.

Evander swallowed a sigh. He’d expected some tension between the two men today. He just hoped the situation didn’t deteriorate like it had last night.

Leon ignored the Brute and addressed him.

“You ought to be more careful, mon cher duc. The walls have eyes and ears, even in this place.”

“Why are you soaked to the bone?”

“I forgot to bring an umbrella,” came the sullen reply.

“You could have used your wind magic to deflect the rain,” Evander observed.

“I was distracted,” Leon retorted. His gaze swung between Evander and Viggo, his expression piqued. “It appears you two kissed and made up.”

Viggo drew himself to his full height.

Evander frowned at the Frenchman. “I don’t see how that is any of your concern.” He glimpsed Viggo’s surprised glance.

A hurt look danced in Leon’s eyes. He recovered his composure.

“We are to visit the Institute this morning,” he said coldly. “Why is he here?”

Viggo’s face darkened. “ He has a name.”

Evander pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience. He was saved from the awkward situation by Rufus’s and Shaw’s arrivals.

“Good morning, your Grace. Leon.” Rufus acknowledged Viggo with a friendly nod. “Viggo.”

The veiled animosity he used to harbour for the Brute had dissipated after they’d attended several dinner parties together at Ginny’s. The fact that Viggo knew Ophelia’s secret and had sworn to protect it had also put him squarely in the inspector’s good books.

“Whatcha doing here, Mr. Stonewall?” Shaw said cheerfully.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to call me Viggo, Miss Shaw,” the Brute drawled.

Shaw rocked back on her heels and sucked air between her teeth. “It feels wrong to address a hero by his first name.”

Leon curled a lip.

Viggo grimaced. “I think the citizens of London would be shocked if they heard you.”

Rufus wrinkled his brow slightly, his gaze swinging from Leon to Evander and Viggo. “Are you here on business?” he asked the Brute.

“Yes.”

Rufus tensed. “Do you bring news of the Noctis Bloom trade?”

“Not quite,” Viggo murmured.

Evander glanced around. The corridor had gotten busier.

“Some new developments have come to light regarding our investigation,” he explained guardedly. “We are on our way to talk to Commander Winterbourne about them. The three of you should come along.”

Leon, Rufus, and Shaw exchanged a puzzled look.

Sergeant Griffiths, who was manning the Arcane Division reception, greeted Viggo with a respectful nod.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Stonewall.”

“Likewise, Griffiths.”

They took the stairs to the fifth floor and headed for Winterbourne’s office. The men and women seated at their desks in the main administrative quarters cast curious glances at their group as they crossed the open floor space.

Winterbourne’s secretary’s eyes widened when he saw them.

Evander stopped in front of his desk. “Please inform Commander Winterbourne that we request an immediate meeting,” he said briskly.

The secretary recovered his composure. “Yes, your Grace.” He stood up and disappeared inside Winterbourne’s office. He reappeared after a moment. “He will see you now.”

Evander nodded curtly and knocked on the door.

Winterbourne rose from behind his desk when they entered. If he was surprised by their unexpected visit, he masked it well.

“Mr. Stonewall, it is good to see you again.”

“Commander,” Viggo replied with a courteous nod.

“It seems something serious has happened.” Winterbourne indicated the chairs arranged before his desk. “Please, take a seat.”

Leon took the chair farthest from Viggo, a sign Rufus seemed to note with a faint frown.

Evander knew the inspector would have questions for him later.

“Let’s hear it,” Winterbourne ordered once they were seated.

“Recent developments have led me to believe that the disappearances of Professor Whitley, his student James Thornfield, and Professor Chevalier are connected to something much larger.” Evander gestured to Viggo. “Mr. Stonewall brings information that could be crucial to our investigation.”

Winterbourne turned his sharp gaze on Viggo. “I’m listening.”

A muscle jumped in the Brute’s cheek as he spoke. “ Nightshade has been tracking a disturbing pattern of disappearances among the thrall population. At least eighteen individuals have vanished from their places of employment over the past three weeks.”

“Eighteen?” Rufus interjected, his eyes widening.

“Cor blimey!” Shaw mumbled.

Leon lowered his brows, his attention focused wholeheartedly on Viggo.

“Yesterday morning, the body of one such individual—James Harker, a thrall who worked for a bookbinder in Mayfair—was found in the Thames,” Viggo continued.

“We tracked down and interviewed one survivor two nights ago. A man who was nearly kidnapped under the same circumstances the other thralls went missing. He described monstrous apparitions that matched the description of the shadow creatures Duke Ravenwood and I fought in that warehouse where we faced Renwick.”

His words hung heavily in the air.

Though Winterbourne’s expression remained neutral, the way he tapped a finger against his desk relayed his irritation. “And why hasn’t this been reported to the authorities?”

A shadow crossed Viggo’s face. “It was. Multiple times, by multiple families. They were all dismissed.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Rufus fidgeted in his chair. Winterbourne’s mouth tightened into a grim line.

“The thralls who disappeared all worked for nobles or in establishments frequented by the magical elite,” Evander said quietly.

Shaw narrowed her eyes. “Just like the bookbinder in Mayfair.”

Evander nodded.

Leon, who had been uncharacteristically silent, leaned forward. “And you believe these disappearances are connected to our missing professors?”

“I do,” Evander confirmed.

Winterbourne frowned. “Why so?”

“Yesterday, we learned that Whitley and Chevalier were researching magical transference—specifically, the theoretical possibility of transferring magical abilities from one person to another.”

Evander saw Leon stiffen out of the corner of his eye. The Frenchman was no doubt wary he would reveal the secret he had imparted to him the previous evening about Chevalier’s work with Les Prophètes Illuminés.

Winterbourne’s composure finally cracked, shock evident on his face. “Such a thing is impossible!”