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place.’
    ‘Well, yes. But let’s not talk about money. It’s an ugly subject.’
    ‘Fair enough.’
    Welby seemed uncomfortable. Alex let him wallow in it. Given how strange this evening had been already and how freaked out he was by it, he certainly wasn’t about to make things easy for this weirdo. He realised on some level he wasn’t being fair to Welby, but nothing seemed very fair right now.
    Welby cleared his throat nervously. ‘Listen, Alex, I am sorry. I’m aware this whole turn of events must be incredibly unsettling.’
    ‘You could say that.’
    ‘What do you plan to do?’
    ‘It’s late and I’m tired. If you don’t mind me crashing here, I’ll make some calls in the morning. I’ve had enough for now.’
    ‘Not a problem. And please, consider my offer to come to London. I mean it when I say you have much to gain from this. Knowledge is the most valuable thing in the world and I can give you a lot of it.’
    Alex made a wry expression. ‘Knowledge can be a dangerous thing.’
    ‘Of course. I’m going to go to bed now, leave you to think and have some space. That door leads to the guest bedroom. Make yourself at home.’
    ‘All right then.’
    Welby pointed to the pocket of Alex’s olive-green combat surplus jacket. ‘Have a look at that grimoire before you go to sleep. Read about the elements.’
    ‘Maybe I will.’
    ‘Good. Night then.’
    Welby turned and strode across the room, disappearing behind a dark oak door. Alex slumped down on the soft leather sofa. A remote sat on the coffee table and he reached for it, flicked on the oversize television. A few channel skips found a mindless late night American chat show. He watched vacuous Hollywood celebrities trying to convince an equally vacuous audience they really did have causes they believed in. Empty programming that gave him something to stare at while his mind ticked over.
    This situation had become serious, but there was nothing to be done right now. Some calls would hopefully start to put things right. Perhaps he would have to avoid Sydney for a while. There were plenty of other venues. It pissed him off that Scarlet was making his life difficult.
    His thoughts drifted back to Welby’s water trick in the car, the uncanny, beautiful moving sculpture the old man had conjured. It was mind-blowing. Something seemingly simple that obviously wasn’t stage trickery.
    A new part of him had woken up. His ability seemed so much more than he had ever imagined. And the fact he knew, absolutely, positively knew, that he had felt people practising magic before, weighed heavily on his mind. He hadn’t recognised it for what it was. What else did the world have to offer? What else had been concealed under this patina of normality? He remembered his father, sitting with him in a sunny garden. It had been mid-summer, hot and bright. He had been barely in school. This world is an amazing place, son, full of fascinating things. Take a moment once in a while to look around and take it all in. His father spoke a deeper truth than either of them could have realised at the time. The familiar old rock in his gut grew heavy, as it always did when he thought about his parents. It brought with it the usual melancholy and cold rage.
    He pulled his leatherbound book from the pocket of his jacket. Welby was certainly trying to buy his favour. For a long time he held it, watched the drift of magesign around it, gently swirling and twisting, mesmerising. He realised there had been times in the past when he’d seen magesign, only he’d had no idea what it was. And not knowing meant he hadn’t really seen it properly, hadn’t focused on it. The thought made him uncomfortable, made him feel like a fool. Perhaps the world was peppered with people laughing at folks like him, Look at the blind idiots, stumbling through life. But he wasn’t blind any more. A veil had lifted. Now he planned to spend every minute with his eyes wide open.
    He turned to the first