The arrival of Professor Aris Van-Thal was marked not by a carriage or a fanfare, but by a sudden, localized distortion in the light at the edge of the Blackthorn woods.
One moment, the road was empty; the next, a man stood there, clutching a leather satchel and looking deeply offended by the concept of gravity.
He was tall, spindly, and dressed in robes of a blue so dark they appeared black until the sun hit them, at which point they shimmered with the iridescent sheen of a beetle's wing.
Jack met him at the gate. He didn't bring the Marquess. He didn't bring Melinda. He brought only Zero, who remained perfectly still, her presence so suppressed she was practically a part of the architecture.
"You're late," Jack said.
The Professor adjusted a pair of spectacles that were held together by what appeared to be silver wire and stubbornness. He looked Jack up and down, his eyes darting behind the glass with a terrifyingly fast analytical rhythm.
