“Woolsey,” said Magnus.
“Your note to me did have something to do with demon summoning, didn’t it?” Wil asked, looking at Magnus. “This isn’t you . . . cal ing in your favor, is it?”
Magnus shook his rumpled head. “No. This is business, nothing else. Woolsey’s been kind enough to let me lodge with him while I decide what to do next.”
“I say we go to Rome,” said Scott. “I adore Rome.”
“Al wel and fine, but first I need the use of a room. Preferably one with little or nothing in it.”
Scott removed his monocle and stared at Magnus. “And you’re going to do what in this room?” His tone was more than suggestive.
“Summon the demon Marbas,” said Magnus, flashing a grin.
Scott choked on his pipe smoke. “I suppose we al have our ideas about what constitutes an enjoyable evening . . .”
“Woolsey.” Magnus ran his hands through his rough black hair. “I hate to bring this up, but you do owe me. Hamburg? 1863?”
Scott threw his hands up. “Oh, very wel . You may utilize my brother’s room. No one’s used it since he died. Enjoy. I’l be in the drawing room with a glass of sherry and some rather naughty woodcuts I had imported from Romania.”
With that, he turned and padded off down the hal . Magnus gestured Wil inside, and he entered gladly, the warmth of the house enveloping him like a blanket. Since there was no footman, he slid off his blue wool frock coat and draped it over his arm as Magnus watched him with a curious gaze. “Wil ,” he said. “I see you wasted no time after you got my note. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
“You know what this means to me,” said Wil . “Did you real y think I’d delay?”
Magnus’s eyes searched his face. “You are prepared,” he said. “For this to fail? For the demon to be the incorrect one? For the summoning not to work?”
For a long moment Wil could not move. He could see his own face in the mirror that hung by the door. He was horrified to see how raw he looked —as if there were no longer any wal between the world and his own heart’s desires. “No,” he said. “I am not prepared.”
Magnus shook his head. “Wil . . .” He sighed. “Come with me.”
He turned with catlike grace and made his way down the hal and up the curving wooden steps. Wil fol owed, up through the shadowed staircase, the thick Persian stair runner muffling his footsteps. Niches set back in the wal s contained polished marble statues of entwined bodies. Wil looked away from them hastily, and then back. It wasn’t as if Magnus seemed to be paying attention to what Wil was doing, and he’d honestly never imagined two people could get themselves into a position like that, much less make it look artistic.
They reached the second landing, and Magnus padded off down the corridor, opening doors as he went and muttering to himself. Final y finding the correct room, he threw the door open and gestured for Wil to fol ow him.
The bedroom of Woolsey Scott’s dead brother was dark and cold, and the air smel ed of dust. Automatical y Wil fumbled for his witchlight, but Magnus waved a dismissing hand at him, blue fire sparking from his fingertips. A fire roared up suddenly in the grate, lighting the room. It was furnished, though everything had been draped with white cloths—the bed, the wardrobe and dressers. As Magnus stalked through the room, rol ing up his shirtsleeves and gesturing with his hands, the furniture began to slide back from the center of the room. The bed swung around and lay flat against the wal ; the chairs and bureaus and washstand flew into the corners of the room.
Wil whistled. Magnus grinned. “Easily impressed,” Magnus said, though he sounded slightly out of breath. He knelt down in the now denuded center of the room and hastily drew a pentagram. In each point of the occult symbol, he scrawled a rune, though none were runes Wil knew from the Gray Book. Magnus raised his arms and held them out over the star; he began to chant, and gashes opened up in his wrists, spil ing blood into the pentagram’s center. Wil tensed as the blood struck the floor and began to burn with an eerie blue glow. Magnus backed out of the pentagram, stil chanting, reached into his pocket, and produced the demon’s tooth. As Wil watched, Magnus tossed it into the now flaming center of the star.