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Viggo’s pulse quickened. He exchanged a wary glance with Solomon.

“In what capacity were you sponsoring her?”

“Education, primarily. She showed remarkable aptitude for mathematics and languages—skills that are valuable in commerce regardless of one’s magical abilities.

” Pride coloured Fairfax’s voice despite his obvious concern at his protégé’s fate.

“I arranged for her employment with Hampton Shipping two months ago. She was making quite an impression there until—” He faltered, his fingers curling into fists in his lap.

“Until she went missing,” Viggo finished softly.

“Yes. Three days ago to be exact, according to Hampton. She failed to report for work, which is entirely out of character for Katie. When someone was sent to her lodgings, they found everything in order but no sign of Katie herself.” Fairfax’s expression darkened.

“Hampton informed me that a resignation letter was delivered to his residence the following day.”

Dread churned Viggo’s stomach as he stared blindly at the plush Persian carpet covering the floorboards.

Two missing thralls. Two resignation letters. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

The butler returned with a folded piece of paper and handed it to Fairfax. The nobleman’s shoulders knotted as he read it. He passed it to Viggo.

“Tom’s note. Rather terse, wouldn’t you say?”

Viggo studied the missive. The handwriting was neat but hurried, the message brief and formal. The footman expressed heartfelt gratitude for the opportunity to serve his master, but cited “personal matters” that necessitated his immediate departure.

“May I?” Solomon held out his hand.

Viggo passed him the note and watched as his friend scrutinised it. Solomon had forged many a document for Nightshade ’s missions.

“Are we certain this is his handwriting?” Solomon said with a frown.

“Alas, I do not believe I have anything in my possession that could help determine that,” Fairfax replied, chagrined.

Viggo doubted Emma Simmons would either.

“Did Katie’s resignation letter follow a similar pattern?” he asked.

Fairfax nodded. “It was almost identical in tone and brevity, according to Hampton.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration clear. “I should have insisted on reading Tom’s note. I might have found it suspicious enough to begin making inquiries into his disappearance.”

“Neither Tom nor Katie gave any indication they were unhappy or planning to leave?” Solomon pressed, unable to completely mask his suspicion.

“None whatsoever. In fact, both had recently expressed enthusiasm about their futures.” Fairfax hesitated.

“There is one other detail that may be relevant. Katie recently mentioned feeling watched during her walks home. I dismissed it as the natural wariness a young woman might feel in London after dark, but I now wonder if I was mistaken.”

Viggo stiffened. “When did she speak of this?”

“A fortnight ago. She came to one of my weekly gatherings,” Fairfax said.

“I host dinners for promising thralls to network with potential employers and mentors,” he added at Viggo and Solomon’s puzzled expressions.

His eyes clouded with regret. “I advised her to vary her route and to consider arranging an escort if she became more concerned. I should have taken her concerns more seriously.”

“Did Katie and Tom know each other?” Viggo asked.

“Not to my knowledge. They moved in different circles despite my patronage of both.” Fairfax shrugged. “Though I suppose they might have encountered one another at this residence at some point.”

“Two thralls connected to you, both disappearing within days of each other. And both leaving suspiciously similar resignation letters.” Though Solomon kept his tone neutral, his implication was clear.

Fairfax met his gaze directly, giving no sign that the silent accusation rankled him. “I assure you, Mr. Barden, I am as troubled by these disappearances as you and Mr. Stonewall are.”

“We’re not suggesting otherwise, my Lord,” Viggo clarified smoothly, shooting a warning glance at Solomon. “But the connection can’t be ignored.”

“Indeed not.” Fairfax rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “An idea comes to mind. Let me contact my associates and inquire if they know of similar cases among their staff.”

Viggo’s stomach fluttered with surprise. “I was about to suggest the same thing.”

“You would do that for us?” Solomon asked somewhat incredulously.

A tired smile curved Fairfax’s mouth. “Of course. We are on the same side, are we not? I shall send you a note if I find anything. Would you like to see Katie’s resignation letter?”

“Please,” Viggo said with a firm nod.

“I’ll draft messages this afternoon,” Fairfax said briskly. “My associates share my views on thrall rights. They will assist however they can.”

Viggo and Solomon thanked the nobleman and took their leave.

“The timing of these disappearances is worrying,” Solomon said as they emerged from the residence and descended the steps to the pavement. “Could this be connected to the increase in the Noctis Bloom trade we’re seeing?” He shot a worried glance at Viggo.

Viggo frowned as he flagged down a passing hansom. “I have a feeling we’ll soon find out.” His tone hardened. “In the meantime, we should conduct our own investigation into missing thralls through Nightshade ’s channels.”

The journey back to the guild was tense, both men lost in their own thoughts as the hansom cab navigated the crowded streets of central London towards the East End.

Viggo popped his head into Nightshade ’s main office when they arrived at the guild and called to the young woman organising correspondence.

“Harriet, I need someone sent to Emma Simmons’s residence immediately.

We need samples of her brother’s handwriting if she has any—letters, notes, anything with his signature, if possible. ”

“Right away, sir,” she replied, already reaching for a message slip.

“And see if there are any reports of thralls going missing in the past fortnight or so,” Solomon added.

“Oh.” Harriet blinked. “We already have some. Hawk came in an hour ago with news of several people disappearing under strange circumstances. He intended to mention this to you.”

Viggo’s blood ran cold. “Where’s Hawk right now?”

They found the Nightshade undercover agent in the dining hall. Hawk put his soup spoon down and got up as they approached the table where he was having an early supper.

“Boss.”

“We didn’t mean to interrupt your meal,” Viggo protested apologetically.

“I was almost done,” Hawk said laconically. “I have some news to share.”

Viggo exchanged a look with Solomon. “We heard. Come to my office.”

Hawk had barely begun telling them about the missing thralls when Harriet knocked on the door and entered, her face flushed.

“Sir, we’ve had reports just come in from our agents in Whitechapel and Limehouse,” she announced. “Three thralls went missing in the past week alone.” She placed a stack of papers on Viggo’s desk.

Viggo’s stomach knotted as he leafed through the hastily compiled notes. “Any connection to Lord Fairfax or one of his businesses?”

“No. Different employers, different neighbourhoods.” Harriet tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and hesitated. “There is one thing they have in common though.”

Viggo eyed her sharply. “What is it?”

“They all worked for a noble,” she said awkwardly.

Viggo instantly grasped the reason behind her evident discomfort.

The fact that he and Evander were a couple was Nightshade ’s most well-known secret.

“It’s the same for the cases I heard about, boss,” Hawk said with an impassive expression. “There’s something else these disappearances have in common. In every case mentioned, the thralls vanished at night.”

Viggo’s heartbeat quickened.

“Were they alone?” Solomon picked up a report and skimmed it, a muscle jumping in his cheek.

“Yes,” Hawk replied with a nod. “All of them were last seen leaving their employers’ homes or businesses. Heading home, running errands—nothing unusual as far as we know.”

Tension sang though Viggo’s veins. “And the locations?”

“That’s the third thing that caught my attention.” Hawk’s eyes gleamed. “Most disappeared while passing through the wealthier districts of London. Mayfair, Belgravia, Kensington to name a few.”

Viggo frowned. “Areas where nobles live and socialise.”

A fraught silence ensued.

“So they vanished at night, alone, in areas frequented by the magical elite?” Solomon summarised in a hard voice.

“Precisely,” Hawk said quietly. “Places where a thrall might already feel uncomfortable or out of place. Where they might be more cautious, more alert to danger?—”

“And yet still disappeared without raising any alarm,” Viggo finished in a hollow tone.

Hawk nodded. Harriet chewed her lip worriedly.

Heavy footsteps sounded outside. Finn burst into the office, startling them all. His red hair was dishevelled, like he’d been running his hands through it.

“You’re not going to believe this!” he blurted without preamble. “I was just out on the docks. Four thralls have gone missing from the shipping companies there. All of them had the same story as Tom Simmons—resignation letters delivered after they failed to show up for work!”

“Bloody hell,” Solomon cursed.

Dread formed a leaden pit in Viggo’s stomach. “How many does that make now?”

“Including Tom and Katie, and these new reports…” Harriet counted. “Thirteen that we know of in the past three weeks.”

“Thirteen,” Viggo repeated, the word hanging heavy in the air. “And not a single one being investigated by the Met?”

Harriet shook her head regretfully, as did Hawk.

Solomon ran a hand through his hair, his face tight with annoyance. “To them, it probably looks like thralls moving on and seeking better employment opportunities elsewhere. Even if they’ve been reported as missing persons, no one’s going to be interested enough to connect these cases.”

“Or maybe no one cares,” Finn added bitterly.

Viggo did not bother correcting him. His mind raced as he rose from behind his desk.

“This has to be the work of a group of individuals or an organisation. We need to compile everything we have on these missing thralls. Names, dates, locations, employers.” He scowled.

“There has to be a pattern to these disappearances.” He crossed the room to the map of London on the wall.

For a moment, he wished he had a magical one, like Evander and Commander Winterbourne possessed.

An idea came to him then. “Let’s mark out the locations of Noctis Bloom transactions and the last known positions of the missing thralls. ”

Solomon narrowed his eyes. “So you think there might be a connection after all?”

Viggo dipped his head. “We should assume there is for now.”

“Shouldn’t we warn the thrall communities?” Finn asked, his tone flinty.

“The last thing we need is panic in the streets.” Viggo sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“But you’re right,” he said reluctantly.

He looked at Harriet. “Tell our agents to spread the news. Carefully, mind. Any thrall with connections to a noble should be wary of being outside on their own at night from now on.”

“And Evander?” Solomon said, his tone carefully neutral. “The Met should know about this, if they aren’t already aware.”

Viggo hesitated, briefly torn between his instinct to protect his own kind and his trust in Evander.

“Yes,” he said at last. “But I need to tell him in person. This isn’t something to be conveyed in a note.”

He glanced at the weathered clock on the wall. It was nearly four—he was supposed to meet Evander at Ginny’s for dinner in two hours. He came to a decision.

“Harriet, I will draft messages to Lady Hartley and Duke Ravenwood giving them my apologies and informing them I won’t be able to join them this evening. Can you please see to it that they get delivered immediately?”

Harriet nodded jerkily.

“Good.” Viggo’s voice hardened with resolve as he observed the room’s occupants. “We have work to do.”