He was an only child, and it had been obvious from an early age that he was gifted with an extraordinary ability for mathematics and languages; he could read and write not only English, but also Latin and Greek, and had taught himself French and a little German. John was entirely devoted to his mother, Jane, and she always sided with him against his domineering father. Encouraged by his mother, John had set his sights on attending St. John’s College, Cambridge. He had thought-had hoped-that his father would be delighted, but Roland Dee was a textile merchant who held a minor position in Henry’s court and was almost fearful of too much education. Roland had seen what happened to educated men at court: it was too easy to upset the king, and men who did that too often ended up in prison or dead, stripped of their lands and fortune. John knew his father wanted him to take over the family business, and for that he needed no further education than the abilities to read and write and add up a column of figures.

But John Dee wanted more.

On that April day in 1542, he had finally plucked up the courage to tell his father he was attending college, with or without his permission. His grandfather, William Wild, had agreed to pay the fees, and Dee had enrolled without his father’s knowledge.

“And if you go to this school, what then?” Roland demanded, bushy beard bristling with rage. “They will fill your head with useless nonsense. You will learn your Latin and Greek, your mathematics and philosophy, your history and geography, but what use is that to me, or to you? You will not be content with that. You will seek more knowledge, and that will send you down some dark paths, my boy. You will never be satisfied, because you will never know enough.”

“Say what you will,” the fifteen-year-old boy had managed to answer. “I am going.”

“Then you will become like a knife that is sharpened so often it becomes blunt: you will become a flawed tool… and what use have I for a flawed tool?”

Dr. John Dee opened his eyes and focused once more on the streets of modern London.

He had rarely spoken to his father after that day, even when the old man was locked up in the Tower of London. Dee had gone to Chelmsford, and then to the newly founded Trinity College, and quickly established a reputation for himself as one of the most brilliant men of his age. And there were times when he remembered his father’s words and realized that Roland Dee had been right: his quest for knowledge was insatiable, and it had taken him down some very dark and dangerous paths. It had ultimately led him to the Dark Elders.