The driver turns down Tottenham Court Road, slowing the speed of the vehicle so that we might better scour the pavements and the roads and the alleyways we pass in the hope of spying Freddie. My guardians were caught out by his incredible turn of speed. They reported back to me that, despite their best efforts and the considerable advantages they have moving about in spirit form, they were unable to keep up with him. I have even consulted the earl’s Goth, who has confirmed fleeting glimpses of him in various places but has been unable to pinpoint his whereabouts.

With each passing minute I begin to doubt the wisdom of what I have done. I do not doubt my motives: I wanted only to help my dear brother. And when I first saw the work of the Elixir! I was in a state of awe; how could anyone fail to be? To see the Great Secret brought into being before my eyes—the giving back of life to one who has had it taken—nothing could have prepared me for it. The reanimated Freddie who stood before me in the Great Chamber was not some ghoulish revenant, but Freddie restored. Living again. Moving, breathing, feeling, thinking, speaking as freely and with as much force as he had done before his heart had been stilled by the wretched poppy. Indeed, if what my captains recount of him since is accurate, his physical capabilities seem greatly improved. Magnified considerably, in fact.

What concerns me, what troubles me so greatly now, is the possible state of his mind. He seemed to tolerate the strangeness of finding himself … awake again, but oh, how terrible it must have been, to be dragged down into that pit, to see what he saw, to smell the fires of the Darkness, to be mauled and held, and very nearly stolen away, by those fiendish creatures! Freddie has never had the steadiest of characters, how will he withstand such an experience? By the time I had brought him back out of the chasm he was forever changed. He looked so terribly afraid, as if he would never know peace again. And I am responsible for that.

“We must find him, Louis.” I cannot stop myself stating the obvious. I know it is pointless to say this, childish even, but I need my friend’s support now so very much. I expect him to reach over and take my hand. To comfort and reassure me. But he does not. I have stepped too far away from him. I have done something too dreadful.

Without looking at me he says, “Of course we must. Can you imagine the scandal if he is discovered, raving and shouting at any who will listen? What a tale the newspapers would make of that!”

“No one will believe him. They will think him ill.”

“They will think him mad. As he most probably is.”