Darquesse shrugged, and sipped her tea. “Magicians come in all shapes and sizes.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Ever tried doing magic?”

He shook his head, amused. “Not that I can recall.”

“You’re missing out.”

“Oh, really? You sound like you know what you’re talking about. Can you do tricks?”

“Illusions, Michael. I can do some. Do you have a deck of cards handy?”

“I should have,” said Argeddion, looking around. “I remember unpacking them here, putting them …”

She watched him search through a few drawers. Finally, he uttered a small cry of triumph, and came back to her with a box of playing cards, still in its clear plastic wrapping.

“Perfect,” she said, taking it from him. He sat down as Darquesse peeled off the plastic, her favourite part, and opened the box, sliding the cards into her hand. She shuffled them thoroughly and fanned them out. “Pick a card,” she said. “Any card.”

Argeddion drew one from the pack, glanced at it, and kept it close to his chest. Darquesse shuffled the pack again, then laid them face down on the table and splayed them with one gentle sweep of her hand.

“That was a brand-new pack?” she asked.

“It was,” he said.

“You bought it? You put it in that drawer?”

“Yes.”

“There is no possible way for me to have interfered with that pack?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Please hold up your card.”

Argeddion did so.

“The seven of clubs,” she said. “So, if every single one of the cards on this table turns out to be the seven of clubs, you’d have to be pretty impressed, wouldn’t you?”

He laughed. “I suppose I would.”

Grinning, she swept the splayed cards right-side up.

“Um,” said Argeddion, “I don’t think it worked.”

Darquesse looked at the perfectly ordinary pack of cards before her. “Oh, that’s right,” she said. “I hate card tricks. Here’s something else.”

She clicked her fingers and every one of Argeddion’s fingers on his right hand snapped backwards. The seven of clubs fluttered to the floor as he fell out of his chair, screaming.

She went to the window, waved, and a moment later the front door was kicked open, and Levitt walked in. Darquesse didn’t bother with words. She took hold of the back of Argeddion’s shirt and grabbed a handful of his hair. She turned him towards Levitt and pulled his head back. He tried struggling, but he was no match for her.

Levitt’s throat bulged as the Remnant climbed out. Levitt himself collapsed, and the Remnant flitted across the space between them and latched on to Argeddion’s face. Within seconds, it was forcing its way down his throat. She released him and he fell to his knees, the screams replaced by gagging. Another moment and even the gagging was forgotten.

She returned Levitt to his essence while she waited, just for something to do.