Stricklend finds himself in an unaccustomed state of agitation and is amused to realize that the experience is not unpleasant. He has been waiting for this moment for so long, has planned for it, worked for it, killed for it, and now the hour has come: he is to have the complete Elixir in his hand and use it to bring a dead man back to life. The anticipation is exquisite torture. He allows himself to pace the narrow path between the headstones and funereal statuary. The cemetery is still and quiet, with not a breath of wind to stir the trees or whistle around the tombstones. He takes out his gold pocket watch. Its face is clearly readable in the light of the full moon. Two o’clock. Perry has been gone over an hour, and must surely return soon. There are not many hours of darkness left, nighttime being unhelpfully short these late spring months. He requires the cover of the night not only to shield his activities from curious eyes but also to strengthen his magic. As a Sentinel, he has long practiced spellcraft of many sorts, but never before has he attempted Infernal Necromancy. He knows that such rituals as are needed work best before sunrise. With the Elixir in his possession, the Coven of Lazarus all but vanquished, there is one step left to be taken. Proof of the efficacy of the potion. A successful application of the Elixir before he announces to the group that he has it, and none will be able to question his authority as the most able, the most powerful necromancer the modern age as ever seen.

Stricklend cannot help congratulating himself on a plan, thus far, excellently executed. The Dark Spirit was able to eavesdrop on Lilith’s final words as she divulged the Great Secret to Bram. As Stricklend had known she would. To have what he has striven to obtain all these long years is thrilling enough; to know that the Head Witch of the Lazarus Coven is dead is an extra delight. Willoughby assured him that he listened to Lilith Montgomery’s final utterances and watched her die before making haste to join Stricklend at the duke’s grave and give him the vital information. Perry had all too readily agreed to go in search of the blood of a newborn. Stricklend had instructed him to go to the nearest hospital, posing as a medical student, armed with enough money to bribe all but the most pious of midwives.

Hearing brisk footsteps, Stricklend turns and sees Perry striding through the yew trees. He has to stop himself sprinting forward to demand the final Elixir ingredient from him. At last the younger man reaches the duke of Radnor’s graveside. He holds out a small bottle with a cork stopper.

“Here.” He speaks urgently, with a tremor in his voice, whether from excitement or fear Stricklend cannot know. “I have it. I have it.”