The duke’s life pulsed against Atre’s hand, making his whole body ache with need. No doubt it would be reported that the man had died suddenly in his bed. Given the duke’s age, it shouldn’t raise eyebrows, any more than had Kylith’s sudden death.

He wrenched away the warm wax and cork and emptied the draught down his throat. The power hit him like a blow to the belly, then spread out through his body like fire. His vision went white, and searing waves of heat and cold made him shudder with pleasure, even as the bitter flavor of the elixir coated his tongue.

Atre sprawled across the rude table, waiting for the world to stop spinning, and laughed aloud, voice muffled by the thick walls. He felt—immortal, and the pleasure was all the more sweet, knowing that Duke Laneus was dead.

Just one more. The thought flitted across his whirling mind. Just one …

Caught up in the euphoria of the elixir, Atre took a golden hairpin set with a small citrine from the box and twirled it between his fingers, making the stone glow like a tiny flame in the lantern light.

With a dreamy smile he set it aside. Not yet, but soon. Reaching into the box he selected a piece at random. It was a cheap brass brooch set with jade, given to him by an old merchant’s wife back in their Basket Street days. He’d only kept it because it was rich with life. Reaching for his tools, he set to work prying one of the jades loose.

He grinned to himself as he began the procedure again. After all, who’d notice the death of a nobody like that? When it was finished he gulped it down and moaned aloud at the renewed hit of sensation. The lantern light seemed to swell around him, filling the chamber with a swirling golden cloud. He could feel his pulse moving in every inch of his body, and the pounding of his heart sounded like the thunder of the surf crashing against the shore. It hadn’t been like this for a long time, too long, with Brader’s insistence on austerity and caution.

When the euphoria began to fade, he found himself clutching two more empty phials, each made from the item of a slum child. He must have pulled them from the rack and opened them while caught up in the glow of the second elixir. His skin was tingling, his muscles twitching against his long bones, hand shaking as he placed the last three phials in the rack.

Be careful! a small, sane voice whispered to him as the elixir’s effects lingered on. You know what can happen if you get too greedy.