There was a cough. Winter pulled away and glanced at the Ipsissimus who was studiously avoiding looking in our direction.

‘I should go.’

‘Yes, Adeptus. You should.’

Winter threw me one last long look filled with meaning and left. The Ipsissimus stuck his head out the door and barked at the rest of the witches, whoever they were, to leave also. Only when he was sure they were gone did he look back at me.

‘What gives?’ I asked. I really didn’t have a good feeling about this. The man had a burning desire to talk to me alone so, whatever it was, it was bound to be important. And no doubt something I didn’t want to hear.

‘Can your familiar be trusted?’

Still at my feet, Brutus let out a small growl.

‘Of course.’

They eyed each other for a long moment. Surprisingly, it was Brutus who backed down, stalking out of the room with his whiskers quivering.

‘I’ll get straight to the point, Ms Wilde.’

It was about time someone did. I refrained from speaking and simply watched him. He sighed heavily and sat down.

‘We’ve not had a necromancer show their face for almost a hundred years. Frankly, I find it hard to believe that anyone could be stupid enough to think that raising the dead is a good idea. But,’ he shrugged, ‘here we are.’

Something occurred to me. ‘You knew all along, didn’t you?’ I said in wonder. ‘When you sent Winter and me here, you knew it was a necromancer.’

‘I suspected. I didn’t know for sure. And, regardless of his praise for you, you are not here because Adeptus Exemptus Winter wanted you.’

I felt my body tense. ‘Go on.’

‘It is imperative that the necromancer is stopped. Unfortunately, from what we understand, that is easier said than done. Philip Maidmont, the librarian who I’m sure you remember, has been diligently at work trying to discover the best course. There is only one method detailed in the Cypher Manuscripts and it is not going to be easy.’

I snorted. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

The Ipsissimus didn’t smile. ‘Fair enough. Necromancy is a powerful art. It can consume the user, adapting and changing almost at will to suit its own needs. Not for nothing is it considered the blackest magic. Once its power is released, it is nigh on impossible to rein it in.’

Frowning, I tilted my head. ‘But it can be done, surely? How was it halted last time?’

‘The Great Kanto Earthquake.’

Huh? A faint smile crossed the Ipsissimus’s face at my obvious confusion. ‘Tokyo, 1923. It started with one necromancer and it ended with a death toll of more than 140,000 people. Not to mention the near destruction of an entire capital city.’

I sucked in a breath. ‘Oh. That’s … bad.’ I was horribly aware of how much of an understatement my words were.

‘Indeed. While we are blessed that our little hell raiser, whoever they may be, has decided to undertake their evil work in a rural setting, we can still expect considerable damage. Necromancy feeds on itself,’ he explained. ‘It thrives on death and it is a demanding mistress.’