‘‘You said I could help you.’’ The petulance in her voice was potent enough to make my lips tighten.

‘‘You’re helping me by guarding the front of the house.’’ I sidled up to the door and gave it a good long look. There were no wards that I could see. I held up my hand, lightly placing my fingers on the wood. Nothing triggered my sensitive danger alarm.

‘‘I’m on the other side of the street!’’

The doorknob turned easily, the door opening with the slightest whisper, which bespoke attentive care by the house staff. ‘‘Gives you a better view.’’

‘‘In a tree!’’

‘‘Height gives you an advantage. Hmm.’’ Across the small room, another lovely antique display case stood, this one lit from within, the yellow light spilling out of the case and casting a pool on the thick carpet beneath it. There were a couple of pieces of object d’art in the case, but it was the slender glass vial that sat alone on the center shelf that held my attention.

‘‘Hmm what? I think I’m getting bugs. There are definitely bugs in this tree. What hmm? Did you find the thingie?’’

‘‘The Liquor Hepatis? Yes. Now, hush. I have to figure out how this case is protected.’’

‘‘This is so exciting,’’ Cyrene whispered. ‘‘I’ve never been a part of one of your jobs before. Although this watching business is a bit boring, and I don’t see that it’s necessary if you said this mage is in England somewhere. I mean, after all, it’s a mage!’’

The disdain in her voice was evident even over the tinny radio.

‘‘I never did understand what you have against mages. They’re just people like everyone else,’’ I murmured as I eyeballed the mundane electronic alarm.

‘‘Oh, they think they’re so high and mighty with their arcane magic and deep, dark secrets of the universe. Bah. Give me a nice simple elemental spell any day. Mages are very overrated. I don’t see why you don’t just go in and get the thingie.’’

‘‘Overrated or not, Magoth said this particular mage was gone, but his staff is here, and not even a mage would leave something as valuable as an arcanum of the soul unguarded,’’ I answered, disabling the alarm. Mages, as a rule, dislike modern security measures, usually preferring to rely on their own arcane resources, and the owner of the case before me was no different.

I smiled at the spells woven into the wood itself, intended to keep intruders out. They had no effect on me, however, so once I tossed a small, aluminum-coated piece of cloth over the minute security camera bolted high in the corner of the room—it wouldn’t do to have images of me recorded for all posterity—I simply opened up the case and reached for the vial.