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“Dear lord,” I said, turning my back on whatever mayhem he caused next. “I’ll be a widower by sundown.”
I began to regret my decision to hear Mr. Lambert’s case.
head. “Jest all you like, but you know as well as I that cases involving sorcery tend to end with a great deal of screaming and blood. Often ours.” “The screams or the blood?” “Both.” He sipped his coffee.
Niles had been out, Fenton assured us that “Mr. Whyborne left instructions to treat any request from you as if it came directly from him, Master Percival.” As a result, Whyborne sulked most of the way out of Widdershins.
Whyborne folded his arms over his chest, back to sulking again. I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes.
“I don’t mean to imply Dr. Whyborne has any...expertise...in these sorts of things. I’m just suggesting that if you happen to bring a curious friend to the morgue with you, I’d be indebted.”
And now Lambert was dead as well, in a manner that disturbed the Widdershins police, who ought to be fairly inured to the bizarre by now.
But I hated that I had to be afraid at all.
Odd, how my whole life had changed in that instant without my knowing it. There should have been fanfare, or a beam of light from the heavens. Something to tell me nothing would ever be the same again.
Cultists and librarians struggled against one another, and I glimpsed Mr. Quinn bashing a man in the face with what appeared to be a very heavy dictionary.
It’s going to be perfect, even if I have to kill every one of these bastards myself!”

