Matthew couldn’t help but from time to time steal a glance at Julian. That ready recognition of what the insanity potion could do bothered him; Julian knew his evil, that was for sure. But it had dawned on Matthew that Jonathan Gentry’s book of potions would be worth an untold fortune in the underworld, which was exactly why these assassins and representatives of like-minded powers were gathered here. These people lived on the will to destroy, either from their own motivations or the money being paid them from corrupted rulers or those who wished to seize the crowns. This book was akin to The Lesser Key of Solomon; one was a compendium of the demons of Hell, and one was a compendium of how to loose those demons upon the earth.

The demons of chemical poisons, all there for the taking, and Doctor Lazarus Firebaugh available for one year to coax the deadly imps from their bottles. Matthew figured Firebaugh would be free to negotiate his own terms after the year had ended, so he was pretty much set for life. He burned to ask questions of the man, to find out how Firebaugh had gotten involved with this … indeed, he burned to ask questions of all the assembly, but for once his curiosity could not be fulfilled and he felt like going to the wall and chewing the paint off it.

But … something had begun to work in Matthew’s mind concerning Mister Julian Devane, and he did not like where it was leading.

Surely Julian had recognized the value of the book. Who wouldn’t? With that thing in hand, Julian would owe allegiance to no one. Julian would be gone on his own path in a shot, Fell be damned and Berry forgotten. Indeed, that pistol of Julian’s might have a ball with Matthew’s name already on it, if they walked out of here as winners of the auction.

So, the questions Matthew realized he might face were terrible.

Might he have to kill Julian to save the sanity of the woman he loved … and intended to ask to marry him, when she was—by God’s grace—recovered?

Might he have to kill Julian to save his own life?

Julian suddenly lifted his chin and looked across at Matthew as if reading his mind; then, without a change of expression, he averted his gaze and once more sank into contemplation.

The fire crackled and popped at his back, but suddenly Matthew felt very cold.

“Can’t someone tell me? Who was laughing?” Krakowski asked, still befuddled. He had presented this question once before and gotten no reply. Matthew wondered if he was going to be fit enough in the head to offer a coherent bid. “I am confused!” Krakowski said.

Firebaugh looked up from his book. “Breathe deeply a few times, Sandor. That should help.”

“Help? Help what?”

“Just breathe and relax.”