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“You’re familiar with it?” Thornfield asked, surprise evident in his voice.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Leon’s expression darkened. “It was one of the reasons Les Prophètes Illuminés was disbanded. Chevalier would have been privy to their findings.”

“ Les Prophètes Illuminés? ” Thornfield repeated, confused.

Evander gave him a brief explanation before turning his attention to Leon. “What do you know about it?” he pressed. “Thornfield explained the theory but what about its application and practicalities? Are there any limitations to this science?”

Leon scowled. “The French Ministry deemed the research too dangerous to continue due to the ethical implications. I can only conclude they felt the knowledge could be put into practice by a group willing to go that far. As for its limitations, I suppose death would be the ultimate one.”

Thornfield blanched.

Evander narrowed his eyes. “You mean the science is unstable?”

“In the hands of the foolhardy, yes.” Leon scoffed. “One wrong move and you could kill both the giver and the recipient of magical energy.”

“Somehow, I think our enemy anything but foolhardy,” Viggo said sourly.

Evander was in agreement. Vanishing two eminent professors and over eighteen thralls was evidence that they were dealing with sophisticated criminals.

“The power to wage war. To subjugate thousands.” Viggo’s hands clenched into fists. “Is that what they’re ultimately after?”

“I think it’s more than that.” Evander could not stop the dread creeping into his voice. “Acquiring the powers of Archmages would allow them to reshape society itself.”

A brittle silence descended upon the room as the full implications of his words settled over them.

“There’s something you need to see.” Thornfield indicated the journal in Evander’s hands with a jerk of his head. “A page at the back. It’s some kind of map Professor Whitley drew before he disappeared.”

Evander’s pulse thundered in his veins as he carefully opened the journal and leafed through it. It wasn’t hard to find what Thornfield had alluded to.

The page stood out like a sore thumb.

The others gathered around him as he pored over it.

It was a sketch of what appeared to be a large, circular chamber with strange apparatus arranged around the perimeter.

Leon frowned. “That looks like some kind of lab.”

“Professor Whitley believed the ones after us were building a facility to conduct their experiments—somewhere hidden, yet accessible,” Thornfield said nervously. “I don’t know how he came upon this schematic but this place could very well exist, here in London.”

Viggo straightened. “Then that’s where the missing thralls will be.”

Evander’s knuckles whitened on the journal. “And we’ll hopefully find Whitley and maybe even Chevalier there too.”

“We need to inform Commander Winterbourne about this immediately,” Rufus advised in the fraught hush.

“I agree.” Evander observed Thornfield carefully. “Do you have any idea who else within the Institute might be involved? It’s clear someone on the inside is working for these dark mages. It’s the only way to explain how Whitley got abducted and why we were attacked during our investigation.”

“Professor Dearmont comes to mind,” Rufus muttered morosely.

Thornfield hesitated. “Professor Whitley had suspicions, but nothing concrete. He never mentioned Professor Dearmont, but he did wonder if the one in league with his and Professor Chevalier’s sponsor had a connection to the War of Subjugation.

He thought whoever it was likely still clung to old resentments and ideologies that never truly died. ”

The student’s words struck a cold chord in Evander’s chest and caused Viggo’s expression to harden.

“Mr. Thornfield, we need to get you somewhere safe,” Evander said, breaking the tense silence. “Your knowledge makes you a valuable witness—and a target. The Met has several properties in and outside London where you can go into hiding.”

“What about Mary?” Thornfield asked immediately. He reached for his servant’s hand. “She’s risked everything to help me. I do not wish to be separated from her.”

“Of course,” Evander assured him. “She will go with you.”

Relief brightened Thornfield and Mary’s expressions.

Viggo moved to the window and scanned the back alley with a faint frown. “We should leave soon. Word travels fast in these parts. Our earlier commotion may have drawn unwanted attention.”

Evander nodded.

Thornfield and Mary hastily gathered their meagre belongings.

“We can use the servants’ staircase at the side,” Thornfield suggested as they got ready to move. “It’s narrow and not often used.”

“Perfect.” Evander studied Viggo steadily. “Let’s separate in case someone followed us here. You and Leon take Thornfield and Mary out via the servants’ stairs. Rufus and I will leave out front. We’ll meet up at Scotland Yard in one hour.”

Viggo looked like he wanted to protest, but the logic of what Evander had proposed was too sound for him not to agree. Protecting Thornfield and the knowledge he carried was paramount.

Leon looked about as enthusiastic at the idea of accompanying Viggo as a fox being told he had to mark time with a hound during a hunt.

“Don’t take unnecessary risks,” Viggo said thinly as they prepared to leave. He held Evander’s gaze for a moment longer than strictly necessary.

Evander’s expression softened. “The same goes for you.”

Viggo slipped into the corridor ahead of Thornfield. Mary followed, clutching a small bundle to her chest.

Leon paused on the threshold, his expression conflicted.

“Stay safe, mon cher,” he said quietly. He turned and disappeared into the shadows after Mary.

Evander and Rufus waited five minutes before leaving the room.

Evander was aware of the weight of the journal tucked safely inside his coat as they descended the stairwell leading to the front entrance.

They stepped out into a night shrouded with fog and a light drizzle under the watchful gaze of the landlady and took briskly to the narrow alleys and shadowed passages of the labyrinthine East End until they reached Cannon Street.

There, they hailed a hansom cab that took them straight to Scotland Yard.

A message from Headmaster Rigley was waiting for Evander in the Arcane Division reception. Surprise danced through him when he read it.

The Royal Institute had officially closed its doors to external visitors and sent all its students home. Not only that, the board had agreed to the Met’s demands to investigate its faculty.

“That happened faster than I anticipated,” Rufus observed with a frown.

“They must be running scared,” Evander said grimly. “After all, they’ve already been accused of harbouring one dark mage.” He met the inspector’s wary gaze. “If word gets out there are more among their faculty, their reputation will never recover.”

They found Viggo, Leon, and their charges already waiting in Winterbourne’s office. Mary looked decidedly ill at ease to be in the presence of someone of the commander’s import.

The relief on Winterbourne’s face was evident when they entered the room.

“Thank goodness you’re both safe.” His gaze settled on Evander as he urged them to take a seat. “I understand we’ve had a breakthrough? Mr. Stonewall and Comte Beaulieu just arrived.”

Evander glanced at Leon.

“Go ahead,” the Frenchman said with a faint smile. “You’re the lead on this case.”

Evander nodded and provided a concise summary of their discoveries—Thornfield’s identity, the Magical Conduit Theory, and their suspicions about a hidden facility where the abducted thralls and professors were likely being held.

He placed Whitley’s journal on Winterbourne’s desk and opened it to the page containing the crude map of the facility.

“We believe this could be the lab in question.”

The commander’s expression had darkened progressively throughout Evander’s account.

“Do you know where this might be?”

Evander shook his head. “Not yet. But we’re working on it. The cryptology expert looking at Professor Chevalier’s journal might be able to come up with a clue from her findings.”

Winterbourne glowered at the paper for a moment, as if willing it to reveal its secrets. He leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This goes beyond a simple investigation. If word of this gets out, it could incite panic throughout the magical community, not to mention what it would do for relations with the thrall population.” He looked squarely at Viggo.

“Mr. Stonewall, I trust Nightshade will exercise discretion in this matter?”

“You have my word,” Viggo replied in a hard voice. “Though I intend to increase security for thralls working in noble households. Discreetly, of course.”

Winterbourne nodded. “Of course. And I’ll arrange for Mr. Thornfield and his servant to be transferred to a safe house outside London tonight.” He turned to Rufus. “Inspector, I want you to personally oversee their security detail and see that they settle in alright.”

“Yes, sir,” Rufus responded promptly.

“And the journal?” Leon asked. He glanced at the worn leather volume on Winterbourne’s desk.

“It stays here,” the commander declared. “Under lock and key in the AFD’s secured evidence room. I’ll have our cryptologist analyse those schematics and see if she can determine where this facility might be located.” He lowered his brows. “Any news from Elias?”

Evander shook his head, chagrined. “Not yet, sir. He’s still working on identifying the device we found.”

Winterbourne pursed his lips. “Maybe we should ask the Institute if they can help. Don’t they have a specialist in the field?”

“They do,” Evander volunteered uneasily. “Professor Abbingdon Musgrave is an expert on magical artefacts and enhancement.”

Winterbourne sighed at his expression. “Out with it, Ravenwood.”

“I would rather not involve other members of the Institute in our investigation, sir,” Evander confessed in a firm voice.

“You don’t trust them,” Winterbourne stated steadily.

Evander hesitated and glanced at Rufus and Viggo. “No. Not after what happened with Renwick.”

Winterbourne sighed. “Fair enough.”

The meeting concluded shortly afterwards. Evander drew Thornfield aside as Rufus headed off to organise a team of officers to escort the student and his servant to the safe house.

“I’ll keep you informed of any developments in our investigation,” he promised quietly. “Particularly if we discover any trace of Professor Whitley.”

Gratitude shone in Thornfield’s eyes. “Thank you, your Grace. I pray you find him safe and sound. He’s a good man who was trying to do the right thing.”

Evander nodded.

Thornfield looked at Viggo. “I never thought I’d meet the Ironfist Brute. Or fight him, for that matter.”

A wry smile touched Viggo’s lips. “You landed a blow, which not many have.”

Evander blinked. “He did?”

“Yes.” Viggo grimaced and rotated his shoulder. “Whacked me right here with some bricks.”

Thornfield’s expression turned apologetic.

“Get some rest, Thornfield,” Viggo grunted. “You’ve earned it.”

They parted ways in the courtyard of Scotland Yard, Leon heading for his lodgings to compose another urgent report to his superiors in Paris while Viggo returned to Nightshade to participate in the trap his guild had set that night.

“I need to ensure everything goes according to plan,” Viggo explained regretfully once they were alone.

“Of course,” Evander murmured. He fought the urge to reach for Viggo’s hand in the public courtyard. “Will I see you later?”

The Brute’s eyes softened, his voice dropping to a low rumble that only Evander could hear. “Count on it.”

It was well past midnight when Evander was roused from a fitful sleep by the mattress dipping beside him. His magic flared instinctively before he recognised Viggo’s familiar presence in the darkness.

“It’s only me,” the Brute whispered as he slipped beneath the covers.

Evander turned drowsily, his body instantly seeking Viggo’s warmth. “What time is it?”

“Late. Or early, depending on how you look at it.” Viggo’s arms encircled him and drew him close against his chest. “Sorry to wake you.”

“How did it go?” Evander mumbled.

“Without incident, something I’m grateful for despite Solomon’s feelings on the matter.” Viggo’s lips brushed Evander’s temple. “He paraded around half of Mayfair in Ginny’s livery without attracting any unwanted attention. We’ll try again tomorrow night.”

“No shadow creatures?” Evander asked sleepily.

“None that we could detect.” Viggo’s hand traced a soothing pattern along Evander’s spine.

Evander made a soft sound of acknowledgement.

“Go back to sleep.” Viggo pressed a gentle kiss to Evander’s mouth. “Tomorrow will be another long day, I wager.”

Evander drifted back to sleep in his embrace, the Brute’s heartbeat drumming steadily against his cheek.