Do you think you can protect them all, Lazarus witch? I will turn on all those you love, do you hear me? If you refuse to do my bidding, I will seek out the one who is dearest to you, for I know where your heart lies, and I will crush him, like a beetle beneath a giant’s heel.

“Be gone, Dark Spirit! Leave us! I am not afraid of you. I will not heed your threats, and I will not have you hurt this gentle soul. If you wish to fight, then you must do so with me, not this frail old lady.” I wait, muttering beneath my breath a prayer for Hekate to come to our aid. Then, in an instant, the presence vanishes. The quality of the air in the chamber changes. The Dark Spirit has gone.

“Druscilla?” I clap my hands. “Light! Light now!” The torches in the wall sconces burst into flame. Druscilla is slumped against me, her face pale and pinched, her skin clammy, but she holds my gaze and squeezes my hand.

“Fear not, Morningstar. I am … I am unharmed.”

“Oh, Druscilla, I am so sorry. I should never have agreed to let you help me.”

“Nonsense. What am I for … if not to help my coven leader? Here, help me sit up a little. That’s better.” She takes a moment to regain her breath and her composure. “Thank you, Lilith. Your swift action—your very able action—it saved me.”

“Why would he cause you such terrible pain? I don’t understand.”

“I’m afraid I do, because I know now whose presence we have just withstood.”

“You know who the Dark Spirit is?”

She nods slowly. “His name is Edmund Willoughby. Your Dark Spirit was not just some lowly sorcerer dabbling in spiritualism, Lilith. He was what he says, the most powerful sorcerer of his day. Of any day.”

“The name is familiar.”

“You were always an attentive student. You will have heard him mentioned during your instruction.”

“He said there has been none like him. No one since. Is that true?”

“It would be hard to either argue with him, or to disprove the claim, because Infernal Necromancy is no longer practiced.”

“He raised the dead from their graves?”

“All necromancers of his time would have attempted to do so. Not all were successful. He was. Though he did not have the Elixir, he does not know the Great Secret—the magic he used, the rites and spells, all were of a very different nature to ours. But he was powerful, and because of that he made powerful enemies. His story is a warning to anyone who underestimates the lust for power the Lazarus Elixir can inspire. Whatever his high position, Willoughby was not satisfied. He became greedy. He knew there was a strength of magic that could surpass his own, and he believed it was within his grasp.”

“The power of the risen necromancer…”