Evie followed the earl out of the library and down a long, utilitarian stairwell into the sub-basement below the servants' quarters. Westmorland inserted a key from a chain he wore around his neck into the padlocked door at the bottom of the stairs and pushed it open. They stepped through, and the door slammed shut behind them, leaving them in total darkness.

"Just a moment," the earl murmured, and Evie heard a metallic screech followed by the quiet hiss of gas.  Brilliant white limelight poured down from the ceiling, momentarily blinding. Evie blinked as her vision adjusted. And shut her eyes and opened them again. "What is this place?" she whispered.

The earl stood with his back to her. "Welcome to my laboratory, Mrs. Remmington."

The massive industrial space bore little resemblance to her own beloved laboratory. The concrete floors, steel-framed walls and exposed piping were familiar sights, and Evie recognized some of the instruments and machinery. But everything else seemed to defy logic—or else, the technology was so advanced it was beyond her comprehension. Much of it was the stuff of nightmares. Glass water tanks held strange experiments – a flowering vine with steel blooms, a clockwork heart hooked up to a mass of wires and tubes, and – Evie swallowed – what appeared to be a real human hand grafted onto synthetic skin. Exotic plants and insects were preserved in formaldehyde vitrines, neatly stacked and labeled. Elsewhere, a zigzagging arc of light, like that of a lightning bolt, danced between two metal rods. Beside that was a prototype of the infamous exosuit, sleek liquid armor that shaped itself to the user's body . In another area partially concealed by a curtain divide, burets rhythmically dripped phosphorescent fluids of varying colors into round-bottom flasks.

A shiver of trepidation ran through her. She knew Westmorland was a genius, but now she wondered if his genius ran to madness.

She glanced again at the hand floating in the water tank. Its fingers twitched, and she shuddered. Whose hand was it? Was it possible it was Baron de Clifford's? Part of her wondered if somewhere in the laboratory she'd find some insane experiment using Bernard's severed genitalia. A hysterical laugh burbled up in her chest and exploded out of her. If the earl murdered her now, at least it would be in the name of science.

Westmorland shifted a quarter turn toward her so only the unmarred side of his face showed. "Laughter is not the reaction I expected," he said dryly.

"Forgive me," she wheezed between gasps. "It's just...this place. Tell me, my lord, do you plan to kill me?"

He started. "What? No. I assure you, every organism in here was legally obtained. I don't experiment on unwilling humans."

"But you do willing ones?"

He turned a quarter turn more to give her a withering look. "I'm sure you've seen my work, Mrs. Remmington. I'm in the business of bioengineering. I have a waitlist of customers a mile long begging to be 'experimented on.' My inventions are meant to improve the human body, not warp it. I've never intentionally harmed anyone. Not during an augmentation, anyway."

"But you have unintentionally. How comforting."

He let out an exasperated huff. "Does a surgeon save every patient? Nanobiology is a fickle science, much like traditional medicine. There are risks when you try to cheat mortality. People have died on my operating table, but not without knowing what they might forfeit beforehand, and never because of my negligence. I do have some ethics, you know."  

She sniffed, somewhat mollified. "Why did you bring me down here?"

"Because if I'm going to help you, you're going to need an explanation. And if you're the scientist you say you are, you'll settle for nothing less than concrete proof."

"Proof of what?"

He smiled grimly. "Magic."

Like most Londoners, Evie didn't believe in magic. She believed in empirical evidence and cold, irrefutable fact. Magic and science were fundamentally incompatible. The entire scientific method was based on the assumption that the universe operated according to understandable and immutable rules. Magic, by its very definition, defied scientific explanation. And though there were phenomena in this world that couldn't yet be fully explained, human knowledge, not science, was the limiting factor. Attributing the inexplicable to magic was either ignorant or lazy.

She didn't think Westmorland was either.

"You're not serious," she said. "Magic isn't real."

He turned to fully face her now, the unnerving blend of steel and human flesh on full display. His expression was flat. "Oh, it's very real. You're just not allowed to see it. Those who can use magic closely guard its existence from the likes of you."

Evie arched an eyebrow. "Skeptics?"

Westmorland shook his head. "Scientists. Though I suppose they're often one and the same."

She was skeptical. "Then how the hell do you know about it?"

"Because I can use magic." He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his irises glowed with a pale blue light. The air crackled with energy, a hazy halo of light in the same pale blue shade surrounding him. The halo was brighter on the right side of his body. On the left, the light flickered erratically where it touched the steel skin of his face. An unnatural wind lifted his black, silver-threaded hair from his shoulders. He no longer looked of this earth, transcended into something more, an ethereal being.

"How are you doing this?" Evie asked shakily. "Is it some sort of photon manipulation?"

The wind died, his hair resettling around his shoulders. The alien blue glow faded, first from the air around him and then finally, from his irises. "This isn't a trick, Mrs. Remmington," he said gently. "If it makes it easier to swallow, think of magic as another source of energy that, like aether, can be trapped and converted into power. Think of me as an energy conduit, like the furnace tubes in a boiler."

Her mind reeled as she tried to process his words. Magic was a fallacy. But empirical evidence couldn't be denied. The man spontaneously glowed, for Chrissake. If it was a trick, it was a very good one. "Where does it come from?" she asked. "Are there particles in the air?"

His mouth quirked up. "Now you're thinking too literally. Do you know anything about the Chinese philosophy of Feng Shui?"

"I'm not much of a philosophizer," she admitted.

He smiled slightly. "The Ancient Chinese believed the universe was powered by two opposite, twin forces, Yin and Yang. The two forces are interdependent, operating in perfect balance, pushing and pulling like magnetic poles. Yin and Yang exist in perpetual motion, creating energy forcefields that underpin the entire universe. Feng shui is based on the concept of metaphysical alignment of energy flow with these magnetic forcefields at a given point in time and space. Does that make sense?"

"In theory, yes," she said dubiously. "But it can never be proved."

The earl nodded. "Its value is only theoretical. Magic, like Yin and Yang, is comprised of two equal, opposite forces. It flows along a network of magnetic currents that crisscross the entire earth. Modern magic users call the dynamic lines along which magic travels leylines. In order to access the leylines, we must be in alignment."

"And theoretically, anyone can access the magic in these leylines?"

He shook his head. "No. You can see a leyline, if you know what to look for, but the ability to tap into one is innate. The human body is a vessel for magical energy. You're either born an open vessel, or you're not. It's an extremely rare genetic quirk."

"And then what? You say 'hocus pocus' or some such nonsense and perform impossible feats?"

He barked a laugh. "No incantation necessary. And magic isn't limitless. Think of a magic user as a human battery. Every individual magic user has a unique energy density—a limit to how much magic they can store and channel. And, like a battery, we eventually run out, until we're able to recharge."

"Show me again," she demanded.

The earl shrugged and closed his eyes in concentration. A moment later, he was awash in waves of blue.

It was just as impressive the second time around. But Evie wanted more. "Do something with it," she said imperiously.

"As you wish," Westmorland said, his voice ringing with a strange echo. A pale beam of light shot towards her, fast as a bullet—too fast for her to jump out of the way or duck. She gasped as the beam sinuously curled around her wrist and ran up her arm, a surprisingly gentle caress. It flickered, bathing her skin in blue, and then disappeared.

"Where did it go?" she asked, wild-eyed. "It just vanished—poof!"

"It returned to the leyline system," he said, his voice back to normal as the magic drained out of him. "Fear not, Mrs. Remmington, the laws of science still apply. Magic is a finite energy source that can only be altered, not created or destroyed."

Evie responded with a pathetic mewl. The foundation of her world was crumbling. "I think I'm going to be ill."

Westmorland moved to her side faster than she thought possible and steadied her with both hands. "Let's find you a seat," he said, steering her toward a chair at the far end of the laboratory. He took a seat beside her, his knee grazing hers. She jolted at the contact, but he didn't seem to notice. "The shock will wear off eventually," he told her with the bedside manner of a robot.

"Now I know what they mean when they say ignorance is bliss," she said with forced humor. "I liked the world better when everything made sense. Why did you tell me? Tit for tat—your secret for mine?"

His gaze was solemn. "You wanted to know why the police will never find your husband's real murderer." A light blue sheen rolled over the whites of his eyes. "Now I can tell you: Magic."

A/N: Amaaaazing fan art by squigmo. She is super duper talented (if any of you have a limited edition copy of Paladin, her artwork is also in there).

FYI: I spent an obscene amount of time trying to understand Feng Shui but probably butchered the explanation. Feel free to call me out for my mistakes!