My foot was barely over the threshold when I smelled it. If I thought I knew what death smelled like, I’d been sorely mistaken. Diall probably hadn’t been dead for long and still the reek was overpowering. The sewer had been a rose garden compared to the sour, faeces-ridden stench that now confronted me.

There were Arcane Branch witches all over the place. They acknowledged Winter and ignored me. That was fine. We weren’t even in the same room as Diall’s corpse yet and already I felt like throwing up. Holding a conversation with anyone, even just saying my name, seemed like a step too far.

I breathed in through my mouth. I could do this; I didn’t want Winter to think I was a complete wuss – even if I was.

We were directed into the kitchen. It was a cook’s delight, with a marble-topped island, copper pans hanging from the ceiling in a neat row and a view out towards the sunny garden. It would have been a beautiful room if it weren’t for the dead body lying askew on the tiled floor. Winter walked over to him and knelt down. I told myself not to start heaving and edged over to join him, although I remained standing and wrapped my arms round my body.

There was no doubt what had killed Diall: the large kitchen knife protruding from his chest was a dead giveaway. There was an incredible amount of blood splattered over the pristine kitchen cabinets as well as pooling underneath the body. Diall’s hands lay by his side; he was not clutching the knife as I might have expected. His head lay to the side but I could still see the scream on his face. And his eyes were wide open.

I gulped and took a step back. Focus on Winter, I told myself. He’s the expert here.

I watched as he examined Diall. He didn’t touch the body but his eyes roved over every aspect of it. He paused as he looked at the mortal wound and studied the knife from all angles. He also took his time over Diall’s face until I wondered whether he was willing the corpse to open its mouth and start speaking.

‘I don’t suppose you know necromancy?’ a plain-clothes police officer enquired, half-jokingly.

Half the witches in the room sighed. I guess they got asked that a lot. Yes, necromancy was theoretically possible but no one in living memory had been able to master it. It was well known that even just attempting necromancy could consume a person, body and soul if you didn’t get it right. Ironically, I was fairly certain that the ability was described at length in the Cypher Manuscripts. Not in the missing Volume 9, though.

Winter merely grunted. He stood up and circled the body a few times, making sure he didn’t tread on any vital piece of evidence. When he was done, he beckoned the police officer. ‘The murder weapon,’ he said. ‘Is it from here?’