Page 35

The carriage rattled through London’s streets at breakneck speed on its way to Whitechapel, the horses’ hooves striking sparks against the cobblestones. Evander studied Viggo’s taut expression as he gripped his knees with white-knuckled intensity opposite him.

“Was Solomon on his own when he went missing?” the mage asked quietly, trying to keep calm in the face of his lover’s fear. He wanted nothing more than to cross the carriage and take him in his arms, but they had company in the shape of Rufus and Shaw.

“Yes,” Viggo replied, his voice unnaturally controlled. “He was running an errand for Nightshade . He wasn’t due to go to Ginny’s place until later this evening, so we didn’t have anyone watching him.” Frustration underscored the Brute’s words.

Evander could feel the weight of his guilt behind them.

Rufus exchanged a worried glance with Shaw.

“Did anyone notice anything unusual before his disappearance?” the inspector inquired.

“Finn is still interviewing people, but so far no one’s mentioned anything that sounds like the work of a dark mage or shadow creatures.” Viggo clenched his jaw. “We found his pouch of anti-magic devices. There was blood on it.”

Dread tightened Evander’s chest. He knew how much Solomon meant to Viggo. He just prayed the thrall was still alive, wherever he was.

The carriage slowed and came to a halt near the junction where Commercial Road met Sidney Street.

Viggo was the first to alight, his powerful frame tense with barely restrained emotion as he scanned the area.

Evander adjusted his coat against the chill as he stepped out after him, Rufus and Shaw in his wake.

People on the street had slowed at the sight of the Met insignia on the side of the carriage. Murmurs broke out, along with wary stares. Recognition flared on the faces of a few when they saw Evander.

His reputation as a friend to thralls had grown since the Millbrook case.

Finn emerged from the shadows of a nearby alley, his normally mischievous face pale.

“We’ve kept the area clear,” he informed them. “Nothing’s been disturbed.”

Evander acknowledged this with a curt nod. “Take us there.”

Finn led them to a narrow side street that ran between two weathered brick buildings, one a butcher and the other a laundry house. The alley appeared unremarkable at first glance—just another gloomy East End passageway littered with debris and redolent with the mingled stench of refuse and damp.

Even from a distance, Evander smelled a lingering trace of dark magic and the strange metallic tang he’d detected in Whitley’s hidden room. The smell he now knew to be a form of a magical hybrid derived from Blood Magic , dark, and shadow magic .

Solomon’s pouch lay on the ground a little more than halfway along the passage. Inky lines scorched the brick wall beside it.

It was clear some kind of battle had taken place there.

Evander crouched beside the pouch, touched the bloodstain marking it, and rubbed his fingers. It wasn’t quite dry yet. He frowned.

“It’s been less than two hours since he went missing.”

“He was supposed to meet an informant at lunchtime,” Viggo confirmed stiffly. “The man dropped by the guild when Solomon failed to turn up.”

“It looks like he put up quite a fight,” Shaw observed, her sharp gaze taking in the damage to the wall. She removed a small vial from her forensic bag and dabbed the silvery liquid it contained on one of the scorch lines with a cotton stick.

There was a purple sizzle.

Shaw frowned at the colour of the dark red residue it left behind. “This is the same magic I found in the hidden room under Professor Whitley’s lab and outside the lecture hall where Leon was attacked, your Grace.”

Viggo stared at them. “Leon was attacked?”

“Yes.” Evander stood up, tension humming through him.

He briefly explained what had happened that morning, their discovery concerning Musgrave, and the conclusion McAndrew had come to about the artefact they’d taken to the Met.

Concern clouded Viggo’s eyes. He took a step towards Evander. “Are you hurt?!”

Evander’s expression softened a little. “I’m fine. Leon was the one who got injured.”

Rufus cleared his throat discreetly.

Evander and Viggo became conscious of Shaw’s avid stare.

The Brute lowered his brows. “If that device we found is similar to the Blood Siphon ?—”

“Then the sooner we find that hidden lab, the better,” Evander agreed with a brisk nod.

He walked to the centre of the alley and released a pulse of magic, seeking any residual trace of arcane energy that could give them a clue to Solomon’s possible whereabouts or his attacker’s identity.

His scalp prickled when a faint but unmistakable sensation brushed against his awareness—a shadow of the foul power he’d felt coming from Musgrave in the lecture hall.

Evander followed it to a pile of rubbish. His eyes narrowed when he spotted something glinting on the ground, half concealed by a crate. He squatted and used a handkerchief to retrieve the object.

It was a silver ring engraved with a rune.

“What is that?” Viggo asked, looming over him.

A thrill shot through Evander as he examined the item.

“It’s a seal to remove wards.” He took a careful sniff of the ring.

“Judging from the stink of dark magic coming of it, it must belong to whoever took Solomon.” He twisted and looked at the scorch marks on the wall.

“Shadow creatures would not have made those, so Solomon must have fought a dark mage directly.” Evander met Viggo’s gaze and saw the light of hope come to life deep in his dark eyes.

“It looks like we were right about our theory. They must have been watching from the shadows all along.”

Remorse tightened Viggo’s face. “I should have kept some men on him.”

“None of us could have anticipated this,” Evander said firmly.

He straightened and placed a hand on Viggo’s arm.

The tension thrumming through the Brute’s powerful muscles made his heart ache.

“This is the first time they’ve snatched a thrall in broad daylight, Viggo.

Blaming ourselves for what happened is not going to help Solomon. ”

Finn’s gaze darted nervously between them. “What do you mean, watching from the shadows?”

Evander explained the theory he and Viggo had come up with. A thought struck him then—a terrible, chilling possibility that made his breath catch.

“The shadow creatures,” he said slowly, his mind racing. “What if they’re not just weapons or guards? What if they’re extensions of the dark mage controlling them? Eyes and ears that can move undetected through the city?”

Rufus sucked in air. Shaw frowned heavily.

Viggo’s face darkened. “Like puppets operated from a distance.”

“Precisely.” Evander’s heart drummed wildly against his ribs.

“That would explain how they managed to track and capture specific thralls without being detected themselves. And maybe even how they kidnapped Whitley and Chevalier. For all we know, the creatures hidden within the shadows could observe their targets for days, learning their routines, and?—”

“Waiting for the perfect moment to strike,” Viggo finished in a voice raw with anger.

Shaw shuddered. “So they could be watching us right now?”

They scanned the shadows around them. The overcast day seemed more ominous all of a sudden, each patch of darkness in the alley potentially harbouring unseen enemies.

“Anyone else getting a sudden case of the willies?” Shaw mumbled.

“I suspect they’ve retreated for now,” Evander said uneasily. “They have what they came for.”

The stark reality of Solomon’s fate hung heavily between them. If the pattern held true, he would be used as a vessel for stolen magic—a process that had already killed at least one man that they knew of.

Viggo gnashed his teeth. “We need to find that facility!”

“Scotland Yard.” Evander met his eyes steadily. “Let’s reconvene there and pool everything we’ve learned.” He touched the Brute’s shoulder. “We’ll investigate every avenue at our disposal to find Solomon, even if we have to turn the entire city upside down. You have my word.”

A measure of relief lightened Viggo’s expression.

The journey back to the Met’s headquarters passed in tense silence. Evander could feel his lover’s growing fear with every passing minute as daylight bled from the sky. He wasn’t sure if it was the dismal weather or the impending nightfall that was making him experience a sense of deep foreboding.

Leon was waiting for them in Evander’s office. To their surprise, he wasn’t alone. Elias McAndrew stood beside him, deep in conversation with a slender woman with auburn hair whom Evander recognised as Vivian Richfield, the Met’s cryptology expert.

They were bent over something on his desk, their expressions grim.

“Ah, your Grace,” Richfield greeted Evander briskly when he entered his office with the others. “Perfect timing.” Her gaze landed on Viggo.

Evander quickly made the introductions.

The cryptologist acknowledged Viggo with a frank stare. “The Ironfist Brute. It’s an honour.” To his surprise, she offered him her hand.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Leon told Viggo solemnly while he shook Richfield’s hand.

Viggo accepted the commiseration with a stiff nod.

“Any clues from the scene?” Leon asked Evander.

“Yes.” Evander showed them the ring they’d found.

Richfield and McAndrew examined it curiously.

“A runic seal,” the artificer murmured thoughtfully as he held the ring up to the light. “How interesting. I wonder why a dark mage would feel the need to carry one of these around?”

Evander spotted the open volume on his desk. Hope quickened his pulse.

“You’ve found something in Chevalier’s journal?” he asked Richfield.