Opening the doors required less effort than she thought, they weren’t heavy at all like she expected, but opened almost soundlessly. Having used more force than necessary she stumbled inside. A fierce blush crept up her cheeks as she looked up and locked eyes with her uncle. For a second, she looked perplexed at him, then she burst out in laughter.

He was wearing robes, like an actual wizard. It wasn’t that he looked silly in them at all, in fact as he stood up, he looked quite intimidating. It was just that she hadn’t expected him to. So far, nothing about being a mage had had any indication that any of the fiction she had read was true. But now, now there were robes. With difficulty she stopped herself from laughing as her uncle strode towards her.

“Ahh niece, wonderful of you to join us, I was wondering when you would arrive.” The use of the word us didn’t escape her and sure enough, a man stood up from behind a large pair of silver candleholders. He too was wearing robes, but his were a midnight blue. He was perhaps one of the most handsome men Serena had ever seen. Sharp cheekbones, deep, dark brown eyes, olive colour skin, a sharp chin, which was clean shaven and raven black hair, for which several girls she knew would commit murder.

He walked past her uncle, who in comparison looked paler and thinner, and reached for her hand. His soft lips brushed her fingers. “My name is Aram Winterhand.” His voice was deep and a warmth came from it that spoke to her of summers spent in hot countries. “I’m so glad to welcome you to the United Kingdom, miss Cairn.” She blushed fiercely. She now was feeling underdressed in her frayed jeans, sneakers and cardigan.

“Yeah, ehm, same.” She stuttered.

“Aram, can you please refrain from charming my niece?” Her uncle’s cold voice interceded. Aram turned around with a smile.

“Oh, come now Steven, if I were going to cast something in your house, it would be a lot better than a simple charm spell.” He turned back to Serena, a bright smile on his face. “And besides, it is rude to put a charm spell on a lady when you first meet her.” He gave her a wink. “The second time however…” He whispered, before swirling around, suitably dramatic due to the robes.

Her uncle was already seated, pouring three glasses of wine. Serena sat down, still blushing, and looked at the wine. Her uncle, who was observing her from the corners of his eyes turned towards her. “Something the matter?” Serena shrugged.

“I’m not allowed to drink, I’m not twenty-one yet.” She muttered.

“And that has stopped you?” Her uncle asked with surprise. The answer was of course, no. It definitely hadn’t, but she wasn’t about to tell her uncle that. Who knew? He might just tell her mum.

Her uncle clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “The drinking age is eighteen here, not that your mother would know, I remember her sixteenth birthday rather well. Better I imagine, than your mother herself. Besides, you will need a passing knowledge of different wines, to be able to detect poisons.” Aram raised his eyebrows.

“You are planning to raise her in your traditions then?” Winterhand said in a neutral tone.

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“Naturally.” Her uncle laughed humorously. “If I gave her to your apprentice programme, my family would be destitute in a few years.” His tone inclined that he was never going to let that happen.

“About that, there has been talk of raiding your house. The council is getting impatient, they want the blueprints of your father’s charm detectors.” Steven didn’t at all seem impressed.

“Odd that you know what the council is talking about, the last time I recalled you weren’t on it.” He said coldly.

“No,” Aram responded, “but Wiggins is and I have some very compromising pictures of him.” Her uncle laughed again, this time with bare contempt.

“His naga obsession?” Aram shook his head with amusement.

“Gorgons this time.” Her uncle chuckled.

“I probably have some black and white pictures of the naga incident. I might just get them out of storage if Wiggins is sitting on the council.”

Suddenly Serena realized that they were talking about committing a serious felony. Whoever Wiggins was, both her uncle and Aram, as she had started calling him in her head, seemed to have no moral qualms whatsoever with blackmailing him. The direct opposite if their amusement was any indication. What kind of place had she been sent to?

“I’m serious Steven, if you’re not careful, you will one day wake to find a dozen mages on your doorstep.” Her uncle’s face contorted, suddenly looking vicious and menacing.

“And that is where they will remain if they know what is good for them.” His voice was soft, but it sent shivers down her spine. “Or do I have to remember you what happened to mages Kirk, Sven and Summers?” Aram paled.

“Summers too? We thought he migrated to Egypt, to study with the embalmers.” Her uncle’s face became a cold, emotionless mask.

“Did he now? Checked in on him, have we? No? Oh well, not a huge loss, he never was the brightest of minds.”

Serena watched with barely concealed horror as her uncle took a sip of his wine. What had happened to Kirk, Sven and Summers? Had there been more like them? Was there some kind of secret burial place where her uncle’s victims were buried? Her hands were shaking, but the two mages didn’t seem to notice, or if they did, they didn’t care.

“The council can wait another five years. After the date which my father indicated passes, I will happily sell the council the blueprints. They know my price. Fifty million and Stokowski’s only baton.” He held up his hands, before Aram could say anything. “I know they have the baton, and they know I’ve wanted it for ages. The price is negotiable, the baton isn’t. If they are patient and negotiate, they can get what they want. Without possible loss of life.” Aram sighed.

“Can you put that in writing?”

Steven reached for a silver bell and rang it twice. The doors were opened and the three maids she had seen earlier entered, carrying three trays. They were followed by mister Stone, who took position beside the door and half said, half shouted, what they were about to eat. Shirataki soup, apparently. As soon as mister Stone was done telling the entire assortment of mushrooms that went in the soup, he hurried to his master’s side who had beckoned him. Her uncle spoke so softly that she was surprised that mister Stone could hear. The butler however nodded and hurried off.

The two mages quickly got lost in their conversation, they barely paid attention to Serena. Her attention had drifted from the conversation, which seemed to be about some kind of political problem in London, to her food. As she took a spoonful the rich flavours took up all her attention and before long her bowl was empty. She made a mental note to tell Toshiro how much she appreciated his cooking.

“You will be present too I hope, won’t you Serena?” Aram suddenly asked her. She looked up bewildered.

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I, ehm, wasn’t paying attention.” Aram gave her a warm smile. “I was asking whether you were going to the midsummer ball, it is a popular event for people in our circles.” Serena wasn’t sure what to answer, so she turned to her uncle.

“Naturally, we will both attend.” He said in a voice that left no room for disagreement. “I assume your mother taught you how to dance?”