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67.1

As soon as we passed the wards, a little old man in a tweed suit emerged from behind a stack of books, his white mustache quivering as though it was a separate being. He swept into a low bow.

“Welcome to the Fitzroy.” Straightening, he beamed, revealing gapped teeth that had been filed into sharp points. “I believe you’re seeking a ritual room?”

Griff stiffened, and I stepped back. “How did you know?”

“Fitzroy is a place of knowledge, young lady.” He tapped the side of his head, as though that explained anything. “Follow me.” He strode across the large room and disappeared through a doorway.

Griff and I exchanged glances before rushing after the old man. Unlike the servant at the faerie palace, this one moved with an alarming speed for his height and age. The next room had darker paneled walls and a spiritual staircase that stretched over ten stories. Instead of a bannister, an iron pole took up its middle that reminded me of the ones Batman used.

We followed him five flights before h
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