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“Dr. Steadberry. He is a high-ranking council member.”

“So he is our murderer?”

“Not necessarily. Whatever his role, I doubt he works alone. Someone let him off the leash. Obryn suspects he is using former soldiers as live experiments for whatever potion or spell he has cooked up.”

Horrifically, it made sense. Nobody would investigate the deaths of Mercer’s former soldiers who supposedly died of natural causes. They were the perfect lab rats.

“Do we know where he’s going to be next?” she asked.

“He’s going to be in Tallan in an hour.”

She stuffed her things into her bag. “Let’s go.”

—

They sat in a small tavern, staring at tonight’s alleged target. The house across from them belonged to another Wielder, one who apparently had an appointment with Dr. Steadberry.

Mira took a sip of her tea. “He’s late.”

Dawson was on his third gin and tonic. Not that it seemed to affect him.

“Killers these days.” He shook his head.

“Ah, glad to see your sarcasm is still intact.”

“What would I be without it, Winters? Just a handsome, rich, and overly talented Wielder?” He smiled and leaned back in his chair.

“I was going for narcissistic, devoid of human emotion, and quite possibly deranged.” She couldn’t help a little smirk.

His eyes glinted at her in a challenge. “Why, yes, those are all tenets of a true Dawson heir.”

She was about to respond with a witty comeback when they both spotted an elderly gentleman leave the house.

“Was that him?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Has he been inside the whole time we’ve been here?”

“He must have been. I’ve kept an eye on the door,” he replied.

The doctor hadn’t been late after all. He’d been early. Dawson threw a few bills on the table, and they made their way to the house.

Dawson knocked once but it was quiet. He followed with an unlocking spell, and they slipped inside.

“Hello?” Dawson called into the silence of the house, but there was no answer. They walked into the living room.

“No signs of a struggle,” she concluded.

Not that there was going to be much of that with an elderly man, but it suggested that the Wielder had let the doctor in willingly.

They walked through the kitchen, and when they got to the bedroom, Mira almost let out a scream. On the floor was what was left of the Wielder. His skin was covered in bluish-black blisters. Dark fluid leaked out of his eyes, ears, and mouth. A chalk circle was drawn around his body, indicating that some type of ancient spell was used to kill him.

Dawson crouched, looking more closely at the Wielder. “He reeks of Dark Magic. I just don’t know what spell this—”

A hand grabbed Dawson by the lapel of his coat and pulled him down. Dark shadows instantly furled in Dawson’s palm, ready to be unleashed.

“Make it stop,” the Wielder whispered, dark fluid bubbling out of his mouth. “Kill me.”