The man in the black jacket was annoyed. He managed to get to Geoffery, but the only thing he would cough up was another name, Algar. Just Algar. Not even a surname. Just the first, five letter, two syllable, common name, Algar. Absolutely useless. The man had killed him without a second thought, the foolish man. In his mind, all he had done was put him out of the misery of mortality, of not being able to use magic. Besides, Geoffery had gotten on his nerves from the second he lied through his crooked, yellowing teeth.

But the man had his ways. He had his sources. He figured that out of all of the Algars in the world, the one he needed was probably connected to his world, the world of magic, sorcerers, elements and deadly, deadly weapons. So he found himself walking down a rainy street in Washington, towards the one person he knew could lead him to this Algar person.

His boots splashed water around him, sending droplets flying with each brisk stride. Finally, he came to a stop outside a rundown, derelict office, covered in graffiti and about the height of three public buses on top of each other. He knocked on the door. An elderly black man with half moon spectacles opened the door.

"Ah, it's you," came the quivering old man voice, "come in, come in."
As the coated man walked in, the whole building seemed to change from an office into a palace, extravagant and decorated with ornaments each more expensive than a car. The pensioner sat down and smiled at him, his skin shimmering and slowly dissipating to reveal a new layer, new eyes, new hair, new everything. She chuckled, now an attractive young lady with raven black hair and deep blue eyes.
"It's been a while, has it not?" she said to the man, who continued to stand.

"Let us cease the small talk, Emma, we are not friends and I do not intend to waste my time with fruitless chit-chat. I am here for business." said the man in his monotonous, smooth, calculating voice.

"But of course! I would have it no other way!" replied the witch, waving her hand as a cup of tea appeared in her hand and another one in the man's. He carefully placed it on the table, and didn't even touch the liquid. Emma frowned. "That's not very polite, young man. An act like that could easily be considered an offence punishable by death. Good thing I'm a nice person, and I'll let you off," she said patronisingly.

"I'm not going to fall for your tricks, Emma. I know how many people you experiment on. I know that they wouldn't let you do any of that willingly. That means you must use some sort of technique to subdue them. For all I know, that cup contains nothing but poison. You may have hundreds of years of experience on me, but I'm not a child."

"Impressive. I see they do not call you the Red-Eyed Sleuth for nothing. However, you said it yourself, I have a couple hundred years on you, so you might want to speak in a slightly more respective manner, boy," came the witch's posh voice. The man snarled, obviously infuriated at being belittled, but he calmed down in an instant.

"I need you to tell me some information. I met a man who knew something, but it turns out all he would say was the one name Algar. Know anyone like him? I mean, in the magic underworld, of course." the man explained, pulling out a pocket knife and twiddling it between his fingers. He was nervous, but didn't show it. He knew he could hold his own in most fights, but Emma Salen was a woman of unthinkable power. She was able to change her look, smell, voice, all at a seconds notice, and could do the same with other objects. She was literally the master of illusion, and that wasn't even the beginning of her power. But she was known for three things, three rules she would never, ever break.

1. She would never take a side. Remaining neutral was always the safest option in her mind, and because of this she could help whoever could give her the greatest reward.

2. She knows everything. Connections, she had them. People, she knew them. She was like an all-seeing eye, and nothing went unnoticed for her. If you want something, you go to Emma Salen. The All-Knower, as they called her. Not very original, but it told you what she was good at in one name.

3. Nobody knows how she really looks. At each exact hour of the day and night, she had built up the habit of changing her appearance to something random. Even in her sleep, her identity was always disclosed, and because of this now natural change that occured to her all the time, it was almost impossible to find her unless you know her personally, or have a good amount of connections.

The man had connections, and he had a fair amount of dark magic at his fingertips, so he could hold his own usually, but against Emma Salen, victory was next to impossible for anybody. On top of that, she was the only person who might know this Algar person. The man hated that. He hated that he knew he was at a disadvantage. He hated that he knew he couldn't get what he wanted without making some sacrifices, because The All-Knower never gives freebies. And if somebody tried to escape without paying.... Well, let's just say they had to pay a lot more than originally agreed when Emma caught up to them.

Emma stood up and walked slowly towards the doorway, beckoning for the man to follow. He did so. She stopped just outside the doorway, now in the exravagant hallway. When the man was standing next to her, the door shut behind him by itself, and Emma tapped three seemingly random places on the door, but when tapped, three sigils lit up with a dim blue glow, and she opened the door again, but the room was completely different. It was no longer a decorated sitting room, it was a giant labyrinth of towering bookshelves, each one stuffed to the brim with books of all kind. The man was quite amazed, but he tried not to show it. Emma must have noticed it though, because she smirked straight after.

They kept walking through the matrix of tomes, and with each step the man became more and more wary. He was incredibly alert, his calculating eyes darting all around. Suddenly, Emma stopped. She turned to the left and pulled out a book. It had no title and no author - but she told him it contained what he needed. He opened it. It was just a ton of names. He looked up at Emma in confusion.

"I keep a record of all the people I know of and meet. That is why this book is pretty much the largest in my library. Look for Algar." she replied. The man nodded and flicked through the pages. Seven minutes later he had found about 27 different Algars to choose from.

"May I take a picture?" he asked. Emma nodded. Her smile made him uncomfortable. The man pulled out an iPhone and quickly took a picture.

"Fancy," remarked Emma. The man ignored her, and pocketed the phone. He kept the book back on the shelf, and turned to walk back. He was thinking to himself. He knew Emma did nothing for free, but sometimes her price wasn't always money - there were a lot of rumours about the things she charged her customers. Souls, magic, spellbooks, anything worth keeping. But she wasn't mentioning anything. He had to ask, otherwise she could come to him later and take whatever he wanted from her.

"So... What do I owe you?" he asked after a while. She grinned.

"I'm glad you asked, actually. Well, you see, I already have a lot of things, and nothing strikes me as 'I want this right now' for the moment, so I think I will come back to you later, how about that?"

Shít. That wasn't good. He couldn't agree to that, or else she had the option to find him wherever he was and take whatever she liked, and the man could do nothing about it.
"No. I don't agree. Tell me now." he commanded. Bad idea. Instantly, he felt a pain in his chest, and he stumbled to the ground. Emma was in front of him, looking down.

"Didn't I tell you to speak politely? And with all due respect, you really don't have a choice," she said coldly.
The man looked up, and stood once the pain was gone. He nodded, defeated, humiliated and pissed off, and walked ahead. She followed. "May I ask, young man, what is it that you seek this Algar person for?"

The man was quiet. Emma laughed.
"Let me rephrase. Answer my question or die," she said, as if it was nothing. The man hesitated, but replied eventually.

"I want the Seventh Grimoire..." he said after a while. Emma stopped. She sucked in her cheeks, but couldn't stop herself, and burst into a fit of laughter. The man grumbled and kept walking.

"You do know the Seventh Grimoire is a myth, right? A fairy tale? Something you lie to your kids about before they go to sleep? Tell me you're joking!" she said in between hiccups. The man stayed silent.
"You're serious...." she breathed, before laughing again, "You're such a child!" she said before pushing him out of her house and shutting the door, all laughter drifting away, with a smile still on her face.