“I see,” said a silky voice, “that I seem to have arrived here just in time.” Walking toward them was a tall man with short, black, spiked hair. He was clearly a warlock: His eyes were cat’s eyes, with slit pupils, green and gold. He wore a charcoal trench coat dramatically lined with red that swept out behind him when he walked. “Magnus Bane,” said Barnabas, with clear loathing. “The Ultimate Traitor.”
