I push open the ornate double doors, separating the wings of the giant dragonfly that decorates them, and step into the room that is so sacred to our coven. The shock of finding that the space is not empty makes me gasp. A figure, a man, stands in front of the altar, his hands upon the witches’ trove, which is open, its lid flung back on its hinges. Although I might reasonably have expected to find a spirit taking form here, this is not one of the deceased. This is a living person. A person who is known to me. I gather my wits quickly. Iago stops at the sight of the intruder. I clear my throat and make my voice as steady as I am able.

“Lord Harcourt. What brings you to the chamber at this hour, uninvited?” I ask.

“Lilith.” He smiles at me, seemingly untroubled at being found trespassing. “The friendship between our families is many generations old. Would you refuse me entry to your home?”

“Refuse, no. If I were asked. But you chose to come here in secret. That is … curious.” My gaze has lighted on his left hand and I see to my horror that he holds the cask containing the Elixir. Now all is clear! Stricklend has sent him. He must have known the earl would be familiar with the catacombs. How long, I wonder, has it taken him to devise a method of getting in unseen? Of gaining entry without alerting any of my guardians from the Land of Night or Day?

I silently call my Cavaliers, but they do not come. Or rather, they cannot. I sense their struggle and know that they are being held. This has been a carefully considered course of action. The earl has seen to it that my spirit guardians are kept from me. What else has he planned? Trying hard not to let my fear show, I step forward. The torches around the room burst into life as I bid them do so, but I leave some unlit, the better to conceal from the earl my trembling hands.

“My father always said you were a useful ally but that you would make a dangerous enemy. I see that he was right in this.”

“As in so many things.”

“You have the Elixir. I assume you intend taking it to Stricklend.” Lord Harcourt’s facade of calm slips for just a second. Just long enough for me to see that I have disconcerted him. I press home my meager advantage. “I must say, I am surprised and disappointed. I had thought better of you. I know you and Father did not always see eye to eye, but you had his respect. And mine. Until now.” I begin to walk around the perimeter of the Sacred Circle. Slowly. Carefully. Iago follows, his lithe little body tense, his tail whipping from side to side.