Mansions are a lot less impressive when you live in one yourself. Owen Ashworth had a modern mansion. In the days before I’d met Big Jacky, I would have been mouth-open gawking at all the space and fancy furniture, but now I was inducted into the halls of snobbery with the following thoughts:

It looks so sterile.

Big Jacky’s art is nicer.

And his chairs are more comfortable.

And, my favorite, I’ll bet Jacky’s mansion is more expensive to upkeep—as if that was some badge of honor.

Mind you, I didn’t say any of these. That would be impolite, and all snobs should have impeccable manners.

There were plenty of times I could have said something. Ashworth, even while talking to Darius, would occasionally glance my direction, as if waiting for my input.

The count had already said, “You have a lovely home, Mr. Ashworth,” and I thought that about covered it, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Three souls is only the final trigger,” the torrman said to Darius. “The upfront power to set the device was done when it was created.”

“There were no details of that in the scroll,” Vasil said.

“There didn’t have to be. That’s the basic laws of magic.”

“You’re saying more people’s souls have been sacrificed to this thing?”

“Many more—hundreds, if not thousands—but if the device is stable, then time becomes irrelevant. You could activate it much later.”

“Thousands of years later?”

Ashworth nodded.

“How many times could it be activated?” Darius asked.

“Any number. As long as you were willing to put in three more souls, you could get the result.”

“Why three? Why not one?”

“Well, I did my best with the calculations, and I think it’s the minimum amount of power required to turn a mundane into a magician. Since the scroll’s recommendation matches my conclusion, I have some confidence in it, but I can only tell you more if I have the scroll detailing it’s construction.”

“With any luck, that scroll was destroyed long ago.”

“Darius, are you sure this device is even real?”

“We have two missing souls, Mr. Ashworth.”

“Yes. That’s true.” The torrman frowned.

“My concern is whether or not the device will do what it’s supposed to.”

“The theory is solid.” Owen rolled up the scroll and passed it across his gleaming black dining table. “Whether or not the device works will come down to its construction, but the magic is legitimate.”

Darius took the scroll. “And it could take anyone and make them a magician?”

“It would give a mundane the power to manipulate magic, and there’s a small chance it might be able to create a witch—though, I don’t want to commit myself to that statement—but, as you know, the ability to manipulate magic isn’t the full measure of a magician.”

Darius Vasil might have known—I sure didn’t.

“How so?” I said.

When Ashworth turned to me, I remembered why I had been so effortlessly silent during their discussion. I felt a blush creep into my cheeks, but I refused to look away.

“Good afternoon, Miss Cole. You’ve been your usual quiet self—”

Vasil glanced my way. Probably to make sure he’d brought the right person.

“—but you always have a relevant question. I take it you’re asking why manipulating magic wouldn’t be enough to make you a good magician?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you also need some measure of talent.”

“You mean, like, natural ability?”

“Magicians use the word ‘talent’ to refer to the ability to perceive magic.”

“See it?”

“Not necessarily. Some people do see magic, but there are other ways. One of the most common ways is to sense it—”

“Sense it how?”

Ashworth smiled with actual humor, and my heart skipped.

“It’s hard to explain, Miss Cole. It’s like trying to describe a color to someone who has no eyes.” He pointed a lazy finger at me. “Unless…can you sense magic?”

I glanced at the vampire.

A fraction of a second later, Vasil said, “Not as far as we can tell.”

“Hmmm.” Ashworth’s eyes never left me. “Then I guess the best way to put it would be to say that it’s a lot like smelling something. You can tell a lot by a scent—what it is, whether it’s nice or it’s gross, where it’s coming from—but it all depends on how good your nose is. A talented magician will know a lot about the magic when they sense it. A less talented magician may only register that it’s there.”

Darius said, “So this device will increase their power to manipulate magic, but it won’t increase their talent?”

“It’s unlikely to. But I suppose that opinion is based on my theory. If I’m wrong, it could do both.”

“What theory?” I asked.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Ashworth laced his fingers together and leaned back before delivering his lecture. He reminded me of Professor Newton, the Dead End philosopher: pompous and enjoying it.

“We’ve never found any evidence that the talent to perceive magic is linked with the ability to manipulate it. Throughout history, we’ve found exceptions where people could perceive it without being able to manipulate it, but because a greater power to perceive often accompanied a greater power to manipulate, the two traits were traditionally thought of as connected. My theory is that they aren’t connected at all—that they’re separate aspects—and that the only reason people thought they were connected is because the greater ability to perceive magic meant the person found it easier to work with the magic.”

“So you’re saying that practice can increase power?”

Ashworth laughed. “Oh, no. Not at all. That’s the last thing you’ll ever hear me saying. Miss Cole, have you been dogging around Darius’s footsteps for a while?”

Dogging?

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Have you met Mr. Aubert?”

“Joel Aubert? Yeah. I had coffee with him.”

“That whiff is living proof that no amount of book learning can make up for a lack of talent and power.”

I bristled. Mundane I was learning to accept. The magicians didn’t seem to mean anything rude by it. But whiff?

Ashworth saw my face. “Forgive me. That must have sounded incredibly rude. I wasn’t trying to be offensive—”

“So it came naturally?”

That stupid mouth of mine. If only I could train it to work slower than my brain.

Ashworth ignored my comment.

“Mr. Aubert should be admired,” he said. “His determination paid off. He went further than any of us ever thought he would. But despite his years of dedicated work, he’ll never be a great sorcerer.”

Darius said, “What if the device was used on a mundane with no perception?”

“It’d probably be nothing but a waste.”

“Or it’d result in a really clumsy magician,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Darius asked.

“Wouldn’t it be like a blind and deaf giant stumbling around? They’d have all that power, but all they’d do is wind up crashing into things?”

“I’m sorry to contradict you, Miss Cole,” Ashworth said, “but that’s not how magic works. It’d be more like a blind person trying to thread a needle while wearing thick gloves. They have the thread, they have the needle, and they might get it right by accident—but they’d somehow have to know they did so they could pull the thread through.”

“Oh.”

The torrman turned back to Darius. “On the other hand, my theory may be well known, but it isn’t well accepted, so it’s probable your murderer wouldn’t agree with me—if they’ve ever heard of me.”

Darius laid a soft emphasis on the plural: “Murderers.”

“Murderers? More than one?”

The vampire held up two fingers.

Ashworth’s brow furrowed. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I have it from a reliable witness.”

It took me a second to realize Darius was referring to me. My heart swelled with pride.

Ashworth said, “It must be an odd kind of witness if you know how many there are but not who they are.”

“It happens more often than you’d think,” Darius said. “What did you mean by ‘if they’d heard of you?’”

“There’s every chance that the person—people who did this aren’t magicians.”

“It’s a closed-loop alchemical device?”

“Oh, yes.” Ashworth pointed to the papyrus roll. “Anyone who can read that scroll would be able to use the device.”

“So we could be looking for mundanes?”

“And that would explain why Wayde was shot, instead of dealt with in a more subtle way.”

Darius didn’t respond at first. He raised his hand and brushed his cheekbone with a thumb.

“Mr. Ashworth,” he said, “if Trevon Wayde had died under mysterious circumstances, instead of being shot, would you have sent someone out?”

“An older professor with a fake scroll? I wouldn’t have even bothered sending anyone to watch him if Aubert hadn’t been available. If Big Jacky hadn’t told us the soul was missing, I doubt most of us would have cared that he died.”

You might not have cared, I thought. Thorburn would have cared—

My brain stopped me. It was nice to assume that Ashworth was projecting his own opinion onto the others, but I didn’t know how much the Torr had to deal with. Maybe it would have been a small matter to them.

“That would have been a mistake,” Vasil pointed out. “Did you sense or see any magic while you were handling the scroll?”

“No.”

“Would you mind looking again?”

Ashworth gave the vampire an odd look, but he took the scroll and unrolled it. He spent a few minutes gazing at it, occasionally touching the surface. Then he rolled it up and passed it back.

“Nothing,” Ashworth said. “Did I fail some kind of test?”

Darius said, “Not at all. Mr. Uhler didn’t sense anything either.”

“If you had Cosmo’s opinion, you hardly needed mine.”

“It never hurts to get a second opinion, especially if the matter’s in question.”

“Why would it be in question?”

“Another witch had the opportunity to touch the scroll. She said she sensed a faint magic from it.”

“Then she was wrong, it faded, or this is a different scroll. Was she powerful?”

The count didn’t answer.

“Darius?” Ashworth prompted.

“Hm?”

“Was she one of the powerful witches?”

“I’m not certain, but I doubt it.”

“Then she’s probably wrong.”

“I’ll have to ask Aubert if he ever touched it.”

“I wouldn’t bother. If the magic was powerful enough that Aubert could have sensed it, it wouldn’t have faded that quickly unless a magician had cast a recent, immediate spell on it.”

“That’s an interesting idea, isn’t it, Mr. Ashworth?” Before the sorcerer had a chance to respond, Darius said, “I hope you understand, everything you’ve seen and learned has to be kept under a vow of silence.”

“Of course. I take it you haven’t shown the scroll to Reynell?”

“Ms. Reynell admitted you knew more about the theory of these devices.”

Ashworth grinned. “How generous of her. Then, if you find the device—”

“If we find the device, Mr. Noctis is going to take custody of it, and there’s every chance that he’ll change our informal request for silence into a real vow.”

“Ah. I suppose that makes sense.”

Darius rose to his feet. I’d been “dogging” him long enough, I knew all the signs and stood up less than a second after him.

“I’m afraid we have to be going,” Darius said. “We have another appointment, and it’s a long drive. If I have any other questions, will you be available to take my calls?”

“Until this is over, I’ll make it a priority to answer you. Would you like me to text you if I’m stepping into a prolonged spelling session?”

“That shouldn’t be necessary, but thank you. And thank you for your time, Mr. Ashworth.”

“Of course. Good day, Darius.” He turned to me. “It was good to see you again, Miss Cole. Hopefully we can meet again in the future.”

Since he was looking me right in the eyes when he said that, I was rather proud of myself for only nodding, instead of stammering out something idiotic.

As we walked out to the car, I looked over the leafless lawn. Even Ashworth’s yard was sterile. He must have had the leaves bagged, but the bags were nowhere in sight. It was orderly, but it lacked the smell and the crunch, crunch noises I loved about October.

“You were unusually quiet in there,” Darius said.

“Maybe I’m working on my professionalism.”

Before Darius disappeared around the car, I saw his slight, disbelieving smile.

I got in the car and buckled my seat belt. “Ashworth makes me kind of uncomfortable.”

“Why?”

“He’s too good looking.”

“Too good looking? I didn’t know that condition was possible. The poor man.”

“But it’s not only that. It’s like, he’s so good looking, I feel drawn to him, but the rest of my brain—the part not attached to my eyeballs—is warning me to be careful.”

Vasil smiled as he put the car in gear. It was a full smile this time. I finally saw his fangs. He was right; they looked like oversized canines. “Perhaps I can put your mind at ease. Ashworth is a classic, self-serving aspirant. If you think of him like that, you’ll know how to deal with him.”

“Darius, I don’t even know what an aspirant is.”

“It’s someone who’s ambitious. He wants as much power as he can get his hands on.” He added, as an afterthought, “He’s been asking about you.”

That did not put my mind at ease.

“Why?” I said.

“Because he doesn’t know your powers. He likes to know the powers of the people around him.”

“In case he can use them?”

“He’s a sorcerer, Emerra. They often band together to get the larger spells done. You make it sound harsh, but that’s how they work. That’s why Joel Aubert is tolerated. He may not be able to aid in the casting, but his knowledge is useful.”

My mind resonated with the word tolerated, as if someone had plucked a guitar string in my head.

To be useful means you’ll be tolerated.

I shook my head to dismiss my dismal thoughts.

“On to Director Kiel’s office?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do we have a warrant this time?”

“We do not. But I only have a few questions.”

“What was it that Ashworth said? ‘Anyone who can read that scroll—’”

“‘—would be able to use the device.’ Yes. I still only have a few questions, but I am very eager to ask them.”