Alexandra spoke to no one about her journey to the Lands Below, or her conversation with Brigitte Jumeau. She returned to the house where Livia and her family were hiding, and made preparations.

She joined them for breakfast the next morning in the small dining room. Nicholas was making a mess of his peas, as Alexandra and Livia and Ashley listened to the latest news of the war on the Wizard Wireless.

Alexandra found it depressing. "Even assuming everything they say is a lie, which it is, I don't think we're winning. The Confederation still controls almost everything. The Deathly Regiment is still happening."

"The Confederation isn't going to be crushed in some decisive battle like in the movies," Livia said, as she gently took away the spoon that Nicholas was banging against the table. "There isn't going to be a clash of dragons and armies. When Governor-General Hucksteen loses the confidence of his fellow Governors, and is unseated—whether peacefully or violently—everything will depend on what brings the new Governor-General to power. The Elect, determined to defend their entitlements and continue the Deathly Regiment? Or reformers, prepared to accept a Confederation that is no longer isolated from contact with Muggles?"

"Why should there be a new Governor-General?" Alexandra asked. "Why not just abolish the Confederation? Let wizards live with No-Majes. Making us live apart is what caused all this trouble in the first place."

"I keep forgetting it's No-Maj now," Livia sighed.

"I'm not sure whether I prefer being called a Muggle or a No-Maj," said Ashley. "But I agree with Alexandra. Isn't that what we want, Livia? A world where Nicholas can spend time with both sides of his family, and not hide anything from either of them?"

"Of course." Livia was trying to settle Nicholas now, who was protesting the confiscation of his spoon in a noisy and bellicose manner. "But you won't convince all of wizarding society to change like that all at once. And I have misgivings about Muggles—No-Majes… accepting us."

"Ahem," said Ashley.

"Yes, darling," Livia said. "But don't forget how you reacted the first time I showed you magic. Imagine the entire world going through that."

There was a knock at the door to the little back porch. Ashley started, and Alexandra immediately rose holding her wand.

"Alexandra, please," Livia said. "We're protected by the Fidelius Charm—it has to be Father or Blake."

Unless Blake betrayed you, Alexandra thought. Remembering the hanged ghost of Lucilla's boyfriend, betrayal was very much on her mind. So when Livia opened the door and let Blake Blaxley inside, Alexandra didn't relax, though she did sit down and hold her wand under the table.

Blaxley was dressed flamboyantly as usual, in a sparkling crimson outfit that should have been out of fashion even in the wizarding world. He and Dr. Farr shook hands. There was something in their brief exchange, not a friendliness, but a kind of wary familiarity, that Alexandra couldn't quite decipher. She felt once again how foreign was the terrain of family life and adult relationships.

Something I'll probably never have to worry about. "Are we hitting the road again?" she asked.

"Indeed," Blaxley said. "Your father wants us to do a little scouting in Roanoke." He frowned at her. "Did you really abandon Hela in New England, and leave her to her own devices without speaking to her or informing her of your whereabouts for the past two days?"

"She's a big girl, and so am I. She's not my babysitter."

"Your father, so I understand, wants you two to look out for each other. And frankly I think you treat her quite poorly."

"She'll be fine." Alexandra went to her room to collect her pack, ignoring the frowns of the adults.

Hela was waiting in Blaxley's big white convertible in the front passenger seat. She wore that leather jacket and a new headscarf, and seemed to be experimenting with glittery eyeshadow. Her expression was sullen as Alexandra approached, and she moved to abandon the front seat, but Blaxley said, "I thought it's only fair to let Miss Punuk sit up front for a bit."

"Did you?" Alexandra opened the rear door and slid into the capacious back seat. "So we're driving to Roanoke, even though I could be there in minutes."

"We are to meet Mage-General Flint," Blaxley said.

"That's the guy we were going to meet when we got ambushed and Mr. Mudd died," Alexandra said.

"Yes. But your father is quite certain his old friend was not responsible for that."

"Why doesn't he meet his old friend himself?" And why has he been talking to you and not me?

"You can be sure he has. The reason we are meeting Mage-General Flint, and the reason we're driving there, is he is going to provide us with the means to infiltrate the Blacksburg Magery Institute."

Alexandra sat up in the seat. "We're going to BMI? What for?"

"So that you, dear girl, can locate BMI's sealed entrance to the Lands Below. It is your father's hope that knowing exactly the place that must be struck will allow the destruction of BMI without razing the entire school." Blaxley glanced at her in his rear view mirror. "If it works, I imagine he will use the same strategy to destroy Charmbridge. He's actually hoping to minimize the loss of life. You and Livia may be having a positive influence on him."

"I don't think he listens to me or Livia at all."

"You're wrong. Livia is the daughter he spent the most time with growing up. She was quite a daddy's girl as a child…"

"How do you know all this?" Alexandra was annoyed at Blaxley's familiarity in referring to Livia, and at the fact that Hela was listening. "You aren't much older than Archibald Mudd, are you?"

"Not much, but I was a young member of the Thorn Circle. Yes, I was there for the casting of your Circle of Protection. Joining the Thorn Circle is what ultimately caused the break-up between me and your sister."

"Wait, what?"

"This was during the long period when Livia wasn't speaking to her father, you see. She was still angry at him about Claudia and so many other things—"

"Stop! How the hell do you know all this?" Alexandra put her forearms on the wide front seat and leaned forward until her head and shoulders were all the way into the space between Blaxley and Hela.

"Ah, Livia never told you." Blaxley grinned. "We started dating while we were still at Charmbridge, and continued for several years after. I was close to proposing to her. But her father recruited me, and she felt betrayed when she found out. It was quite traumatic at the time. We were a young couple, full of woe and drama and it felt like a Shakespearean tragedy to both of us." He shrugged. "But as you can see, we're friends now."

Alexandra realized her mouth was hanging open. She closed it.

"You're perhaps wondering what Livia saw in me?" Blaxley waggled his eyebrows.

"Kind of." Alexandra looked at his brilliant red sequined jacket and bell bottom pants, and the floppy hat he'd set on the seat next to him. "Also, honestly, I kind of thought you were gay."

Blaxley guffawed. "Livia is right about you in every way. Among your good qualities are bravery, loyalty, fierceness, and determination. Among your bad qualities are impulsiveness, tactlessness, snap judgments, and terrible intuition about other people."

Hela made a small snorting sound. Alexandra glared at her. Hela looked away. Alexandra glanced at her phone screen and saw she was looking up "Shakespearean."

She sat back in the seat, and tried not to sulk as they shot east along the highway.


Hastings Flint, Mage-General, ROC (Ret.) was an imposing figure, tall and thick, with enormous hands. He had a hearty red face, a sharp, triangular white beard, and a big bushy white mustache. He still wore a Regimental Officer Corps hat, but beneath that a dull brown suit that might have been in fashion in the Muggle part of Roanoke a century before. He carried a cane with a mastiff's head.

His estate consisted of a big white mansion surrounded by thick, tangled woods and a sea of briar patches. Alexandra could see by the way the land was leveled around the house that it had once been cultivated, then allowed to grow fallow and then wild. Mage-General Flint said he lived alone, which Alexandra found strange—the house was bigger than the Kings' mansion on Croatoa. But when he invited them inside, he used spells to summon plates and cups full of food and beverages to his table, and likewise every other service was performed by magic. Alexandra saw no house-elves, or Clockwork golems, or humans.

"You really live here alone?" she asked.

"I have since my wife died," he said gruffly. "Well, there's Lewis." He chuckled. "But other than him, yes." He folded his hands, apparently uninterested in introducing Lewis, or talking more about his house. "So, you're Abraham's youngest."

"As far as we know," Blaxley said.

Alexandra shot him a look, while Hela remained stone-faced. Mage-General Flint seemed to find this amusing. He laughed, then sipped his tea. "He was always popular with the witches, even when we were boys." He scrutinized Alexandra again, as if trying to verify her paternity. "Abraham didn't explain exactly why you need to go to BMI personally. It's not as if we don't both know every inch of the place. But I'm to help sneak you in and out. I assume you know what you're doing?"

"More or less," Alexandra said.

"That's hardly reassuring."

"My father trusts you, right?"

"I should hope so," Flint said.

"He trusts me, too."

"Harumph." Flint sighed. "He said we may able to avoid the death and destruction he visited upon Baleswood and New Amsterdam. I'd like that. Destroying BMI is bad enough. It breaks my heart. I think it breaks your father's heart, too."

"He's done worse. He's had to cope with worse."

"Yes." Flint gravely studied her at length again. "You don't remember me at Maximilian's memorial, do you?"

Alexandra tried to place the red-faced, white-haired wizard. She shook her head.

"Well, I was there. Julia can confirm that. I'm her godfather. I was Maximilian's godfather, too."

"She's never mentioned you," Alexandra murmured.

Flint shrugged. "I don't see her or Thalia much nowadays, alas. I attended three of Abraham's weddings, but we weren't able to stay close after he became the Enemy of the Confederation."

"Three?" said Hela.

"So you only switched sides after you found out about the Deathly Regiment?" Alexandra asked. "Or did you already know about it?"

"I knew the same rumors many of the Elect do," Flint said. "Like most of the Confederation, I had no idea of what you revealed at Storm King Mountain. Yes, though Abraham and I were best friends going back to childhood, I did consider our friendship dead until… recently."

So, Mage-General Flint was not a member of the Thorn Circle, Alexandra thought. Assuming he was telling the truth.

"How are you going to get me into BMI?" she asked. "Polyjuice Potion?"

"Why go to such fuss?" Flint asked. "As a member of the Board, I can visit BMI whenever I like. I'll bring you along as a pet."

"Wait," Alexandra said. "You're going to turn me into an animal?"

"I literally wrote the book on Combat Polymorphy. Even your father doesn't have my skill at Transfiguration."

"I'm going to be your familiar?"

"Not a familiar. That's a sentiment I don't share with your father. But I have always made use of animal servants."

Alexandra exchanged a look with Blake Blaxley, who looked amused, and Hela, who was trying not to.

"What kind of animal?" Alexandra asked slowly. "An owl?"

"Have you ever been transformed into an owl? It's very hard to be a bird without experience. And a dog or cat would earn you too much attention."

"Definitely not a cat," Alexandra said.

"How about a rat? You'd fit in my pocket."

"Definitely not a rat."

"Well. You're a fussy one, aren't you?" Flint snapped his fingers. "I know. How do you feel about ferrets?"


Alexandra had spent part of her sixth grade year being transformed into a rat by a proximity curse Dean Grimm had cast on her and Larry Albo. It was punishment for both of them, and meant to keep them apart—unfortunately, they kept finding themselves too close to one another. Alexandra had not particularly enjoyed being turned into a rat, but she'd gotten used to it after a while.

As a ferret, she was larger and had better vision. She could see Hela hiding a smirk behind her hand, for example. She glared from Mage-General Flint's shoulder. "What's so funny?"

It came out as angry chitters. Hela's eyebrows went up, and she curled her hand into a fist, before Flint walked out to a tall carriage pulled by winged horses, with Alexandra still sitting on his shoulder. She could smell the pomade the old general used in his hair and the musty smell of his uniform, despite all the Brightening and Pressing Charms he'd used on it.

"We'll be there in an hour," Flint said. "You can speak to me in the meantime—I added a translation charm when I transfigured you. But don't chitter too much at me when we get to BMI."

"I'd rather stay in human form until we get there," Alexandra grumbled, or rather, chittered.

"And I explained already that the heightened security means we can expect Revealing Charms to be cast on us before we even enter school grounds. BMI isn't like Charmbridge. It's a military institution and even the cadets are acting like they're at war now. At least, they'd better be."

Mage-General Flint's carriage was a modern one, with Warming Charms and stabilizers that made their flight smoother than a flying carpet. Besides Alexandra, Flint brought a snowy owl, who sat on his shoulder and regarded Alexandra with ominous, unblinking silence. The Granians beat their wings against the air but were otherwise quiet.

"Tell me about my father as a student," Alexandra said. "Was he a wyrm? Was he the best duelist in school? Did you expect him to become Governor-General someday? You said you met all his previous wives. Did you ever meet my mother?"

"That's a lot of questions," Flint said. But he was quite willing to talk about his school days, and Abraham Thorn, and Alexandra listened for the next hour as the old general told her about her father as a young, dashing, arrogant member of the Elect, considered the most brilliant student in his cadre, a born leader with a knack for military and political strategy, and a romantic who dated the daughters of Governors and Congressmen.

"I never met your mother. Abraham and I were estranged by then. I confess, I believed the rumors about him planning a coup, conspiring with the Dark Convention, and traveling overseas to meet the British Dark Lord."

"I mean, he did," Alexandra said.

Flint grunted. "Well, yes. And now I am conspiring with him, and thus indirectly with the Dark Convention. Do you have any idea the position this puts me in? How it feels to be skulking about plotting the destruction of everything I've spent my life defending?"

"I can't say, my life hasn't been that long. But I have seen what you've been defending. How do you feel about that?"

Flint's reddish face turned a little redder. "Your father warned me you're sometimes lacking in manners."

"Did he?" Alexandra scurried off his arm and up the front of the carriage, to look ahead. She could see the trees thinning beneath them, and cleared fields by a river which looked vaguely familiar from her previous visits to BMI. She couldn't see much else, and she wasn't even sure she'd be able to make out much with her Witch's Sight while transformed into a ferret. "Tell me something—since you're Julia's godfather, you could visit Croatoa, couldn't you?"

"I haven't been there since the summer before Maximilian started at BMI."

"But you could go? And nobody would think it was unusual? Like Aurors who are watching?"

"Thalia might not welcome me. What are you asking, girl?"

She turned around and scurried back up onto the seat next to the wizard. She felt a little ridiculous being a ferret, waving her paws in the air.

"I need to speak to Julia, but I can't be seen visiting the Kings."

"Croatoa is far from here. It would take hours more to get there, and then many hours to return. Your father never mentioned such a trip, and Mr. Blaxley and Miss Punuk are waiting for us back at the mansion."

"They can wait. You could send your owl to tell them." She narrowed her eyes at the owl, which had not stopped staring at her. Did owls eat ferrets? Was this how Charlie felt around Jingwei?

"And why should I do that? I'm already taking you to BMI to help you destroy it. Speaking of which, we're here."

The carriage landed with a jolt that almost bounced Alexandra onto her back. She regained her footing with ferret-like speed, and climbed up Flint's sleeve, as two serious-looking boys in JROC uniforms with rippling black crows on their chests outlined in yellow approached the carriage.

"Good morning, sir!" said the taller boy, standing stiffly at attention. "Mage-Corporal Osley, at your service, sir! We're required to inspect your vehicle and your person, sir!"

"Certainly, Mage-Corporal," said the Mage-General, disembarking, with Alexandra on one shoulder and the owl on the other. He exchanged pleasantries with the two cadets, who were too terrified to speak in anything but exclamation marks, but nonetheless cast an array of spells on Flint and his vehicle and his horses, and his owl, and Alexandra. Alexandra tried to look innocuous and ferret-like as the shorter boy stared at her. Flint had assured her that no Revealing Charm could detect a person transfigured into an animal. But he hadn't mentioned Legilimency. Alexandra doubted a JROC cadet would be a Legilimens, but she tried to empty her mind regardless.

The Stormcrow was obviously curious about Flint's ferret, but he merely said, "Thank you for your patience, sir! With the Commandant's apologies—we're required to inspect all visitors, even VIPs and alumni."

"Of course, of course. I would have harsh words for the Commandant if you did not," said Flint.

The younger boy led the Granians off to a nearby stable. The older boy saluted. "Have a good day, sir! Semper Vicit!"

Riding on Flint's shoulder, Alexandra waited until they were out of earshot, then said, "The main wings, or whatever, first."

"If you told me precisely what you're looking for, it would be helpful."

"Just walk around. Sir." Even chittered in his ear, Flint had to know the "sir" was sardonic, but he set his jaw and strode along past students crossing between buildings, all of whom recognized from his hat that he was a retired ROC officer and reflexively stood at attention to salute him as he passed by.

"They don't think it's weird for you to carry familiars around?" Alexandra asked.

"I'm a retired Mage-General of the Roanoke Regiment," Flint said. "I can do as I damned well please. And you're not familiars."

BMI was not primarily located in a central building, like Charmbridge. Nor was it scattered around town like New Amsterdam Academy. Instead, it was a spread-out campus of classroom buildings, barracks, mess halls, stables, arenas, parade grounds, dueling pits, and woods and streams. But Alexandra realized a problem with their plan after walking around two of the classroom buildings, during which Mage-General Flint spoke to a couple of faculty and several more students. When they were alone again, Alexandra said, "I'm going to have to become human again."

"Why?" asked Flint.

Because my Witch's Sight isn't working. Ferret-vision was apparently too limited. Just as she could not cast spells in this form, she could not sense magic. "I can't see what I'm looking for. It'll have to be Plan B."

"Your Plan B, as you call it, is risky. I'm not convinced you can pull it off, even if you did spend a few months in Charmbridge's JROC."

"If you're afraid, go back, and I'll take a chance on my own."

"I am not afraid, you insolent, impertinent child. Merlin, didn't your father teach you any respect?"

"He's taught me a few things. But he really can't take any blame or credit for my upbringing." Alexandra hopped off the wizard, landing on the ground with a harder bounce than she expected. She shook her head and stood up to face him. From this position, he was a giant towering over her. They were hidden in the shadows of the building they'd just strolled behind. Flint sighed and flicked his wand at her and reversed the transfiguration. She immediately became human again, wearing what she had been wearing when they left his estate. As she looked around, she saw what she'd missed while she was a ferret—glowing magical threads running through the woods to the east and along the little stream and right under the tiny footbridge they'd crossed to get to this building, and the glow of the bridge itself, with some simple charm on it. What she didn't see was any great crack in the world where this world touched the World Away and magic seeped out, a place that could be pulled open to expose the Blacksburg Magery Institute to the Lands Below. Nor any other indication of a hidden nexus of power.

While she peered around, Flint cast more transfiguration charms on her clothing, until she was wearing the uniform of a Witch-Lieutenant. Then he pointed his wand at her face. Alexandra tried not to flinch as her lips and nose swelled and her forehead and chin seemed to melt. She felt her hair tightening on her scalp as Flint's spell altered it too.

"Little better than a Glamour," he said. "If anyone casts a counter-spell or reversal on you, it will be undone. But so long as you're not scrutinized too closely, I suppose you'll pass as someone else."

They had concocted a story about her being the Mage-General's young cousin, should anyone ask, but they hoped the mere presence of two officers would stifle the curiosity of any cadets, and that Flint could handle any nosy faculty.

They walked back out into the sunshine. Alexandra was amused as Stormcrows, some older than her, snapped to attention and saluted her, and she almost forgot to salute back until Flint growled under his breath at her.

"As you can see," Flint said, once they had passed the latest knot of cadets, "BMI is quite large. We could be all day if you intend to simply walk around every building, and that would eventually make some of the senior staff officers curious. Tarnation and confabulation, you stubborn child of Abraham, tell me what you're looking for!"

Alexandra winced, and hastily drew her wand to cast a Muffliato spell. Then she sighed. "If I knew, exactly, I'd tell you. But somewhere around here is… a gate. An opening. A crack in the world. A way to reach the Lands Below."

Flint's eyebrows went up.

"If I had to guess, wherever BMI was first established—I mean, the oldest building, maybe? Wherever Colonial wizards first decided this was the place to build a school. Most likely on top of someplace that the Indians used to consider an important spot."

"Ah," said Flint. "Well. The oldest building on the BMI campus—and reportedly, one haunted to this day by Indian ghosts, who occasionally skirmish with our ghosts to trespass onto the grounds and harass the occupants—would be the Commandant's residence." He pointed, and off in the distance, Alexandra saw a handsome, two-story white building sitting all alone on a vast expanse of lawn, bordered by paths on which Stormcrows were marching on and off neighboring parade fields.

From where they stood, a quarter of a mile away, Alexandra could almost feel a tingling in the air, and see a faint halo around the house when she blinked.

"Yeah," she said. "Let's go over there."

Flint sighed. "We might find ourselves meeting the Commandant. He will ask questions."

Alexandra shrugged. "Lead on, Mage-General, sir."

When they got to the house, she saw that it had a sparkling white exterior with windows so clean they were almost invisible. It was a modest affair, not a mansion like Flint's, but much larger than the houses on Alexandra's street back in Larkin Mills. But what riveted Alexandra's attention immediately was the rivers of green and gold running across the parade fields and intersecting at the house, which to Alexandra's Witch's Sight sat in a blaze of sealed shimmering cracks waiting to be torn open.

"This is it," she murmured. "This is the place to undo the Confederation's seal."

"Hastings!" called a deep, resonant voice. A man in a resplendent Regimental uniform with Stormcrow patches on his shoulders and stars and stripes on his sleeves stepped out onto the front porch, holding a wide-brimmed officer's hat. He was tall and brown-skinned, his hair cut so short it was just a dark shadow on his scalp, which seemed unlike the longer hairstyles she'd seen on other officers. He put his hat on his head and came down the steps to greet them. Though his tone was friendly, his gaze was piercing and inquisitive, and fixed on Alexandra.

She stared back at him, until Mage-General Flint cleared his throat, and the owl on his shoulder hooted. Belatedly, Alexandra came to attention and saluted.

The tall Commandant saluted back. "At ease, Witch-Lieutenant." He looked over her insignia. "Coastal Battalion? Are you one of the littorals?"

Not knowing the right answer, she just said, "Yes, sir."

"Acantha is my cousin," Flint said. "Second, twice removed. I pulled some strings to get her a commission, and thought she might like to see Blacksburg. Acantha, this is Mage-General Armstrong. Formerly commander of the Second Roanoke Air Cavalry, now Commandant of BMI."

Alexandra saluted again. "Pleased to meet you, sir."

Armstrong saluted back perfunctorily with a bemused expression. "I can't do anything for you, Witch-Lieutenant. I'm on reserve status while I'm Commandant of BMI. I have enough to do securing the school against threats from the Thorn Circle. I hope you weren't hoping I could get her a more favorable assignment, Hastings?"

Hastings Flint harumphed. "Don't be churlish, Andrew, you should know me better than that. I just thought Acantha might like to see—"

"A real military institution with real cadets?" Armstrong said dryly. Now his expression, and his condescending tone, were all too familiar to Alexandra. Evidently, however Mage-General Armstrong imagined her older cousin had gotten her into the ROC, it didn't measure up to graduating from the Blacksburg Magery Institute. "Don't worry, Witch-Lieutenant, you'll get a taste of real fighting against Dark creatures out there in the rivers and marshes. If you survive, it'll be almost like having real training."

Flint looked as if he were about to intercede on her behalf, but Alexandra widened her eyes, and in a tone suggesting apprehension, perhaps even fear, she said, "Do you really expect the Thorn Circle to attack BMI, sir? I'm surprised at how undefended everything is. I mean, what if one of them just walked onto the grounds using a magical disguise?"

Flint's face turned chalky, but Armstrong's attention was on Alexandra. "You're speaking out of turn, Witch-Lieutenant." Before Alexandra could decide whether she was supposed to apologize or just look chastened, he said, "You're also revealing how little training you've had. You were only able to cross our perimeter because you were allowed in by our cadets on watch. Thanks to the Stonekettle, our wards are kept constantly up now. There are additional Ward-Lines against Dark creatures and Foes criss-crossing the campus."

"Oh, yes, sir," Alexandra said. "I saw—I mean, I recognized the spiral pentagon formation around the… that must be where the Stonekettle is." She pointed at a building far across the northern parade field, in the direction where one of the cracks ran.

Armstrong's expression constricted a little. "I'm not going to tell you where the Stonekettle is, but if all you know is spiral pentagram defense forms, you know less than one of our juniors."

"Yes, sir. I also noticed these fields were turned recently and I'll bet there are Essential Stone, Engulfing, and Grass-to-vine charms cast on them. But the Thorn Circle's pattern has been to attack with storms and quakes and then descend from the air."

Mage-General Armstrong folded his arms. "Very astute, Witch-Lieutenant. How would you protect a large campus against an aerial assault?"

"Besides warding charms triggered by chimes and a trained cadre of wizards with lightning spells and whirlwind charms and storms of spikes? Maybe a dragon, in addition to your usual air cavalry?"

"Unfortunately, we don't have dragons," Armstrong said. "The Roanoke Regiment couldn't spare either of them, and it's no good asking any of the neighboring Territories. But we do have ghosts."

"Ghosts can't fight, can they, sir?"

"Of course not. Neither can trees," he said, with a dark, knowing smile.

"Trees?" Alexandra looked at the trees surrounding the wide green lawns around them, wondering if Mage-General Armstrong would offer more information. And then she saw, with her Witch's Sight as much as her vision, throngs of small black shapes clustered in the woods, rustling and cawing to each other, and she shuddered. It triggered another flashback to her sixth grade year, as she remembered what Ben Journey had told her about the magic he'd used.

"With respect, sir," she said, "doesn't empowering ghosts to cause harm, and conjuring murders of crows, require Dark magic?"

Armstrong glanced at Flint, who returned a blank look. He looked back at Alexandra. "You are… keen," he said. He rubbed his chin. "You'll learn, Witch-Lieutenant, that 'Dark Arts' is often an arbitrary category. Under certain circumstances—such as dire threats from even darker forces—we're authorized to use defensive countermeasures that wouldn't normally be approved."

"Oh, I understand completely, Mage-General," Alexandra said. "Whatever works, right?"