The room smelled of old age and decay.

William didn’t want to let anyone even slightly suspect that he found this rotten smell oddly satisfying, so he coughed dramatically, covered his nose with a checkered handkerchief, and stepped in.

The place was crowded with mourning family members; some women crying, and some men blatantly staring at the floor. A woman in what appeared to be her late eighties was lying motionless in the centre of the room on a rich canopy bed decorated with blue velvet. She was cold and pale but still too pretty for William’s taste. He was about to take a step closer to examine the cadaver, but someone blocked his path. It was a fair man, no more than twenty years old, his face terribly resembling the one on the bed.

- Don’t you dare set your foot in here, you criminal, - he cried.

Some people gasped and turned towards the pair.

William raised his brows and put his hand on his chest as if genuinely shocked.

- My, my, - he said. - It’s okay. You must be so upset...

- Yes I am! - cried the young man. - It will never be okay! She was young and beautiful two weeks ago; now she is old and dead! Your magic was supposed to heal her, but it did exactly the opposite! You charlatan!

- Listen, - said William, putting his briefcase on the floor. - She was terminally ill. There could be no guarantee that the magic will work.

- Cut it, Elon! - suddenly said a middle-aged lady pushing elbows through the crowd with two glasses of whiskey. - I’m so sorry, Mr Lamington, - she said to William, handing him one of the glasses. - He’s not been himself lately. Take this.

Elon’s eyes narrowed.

William took a sip of amber liquor. He felt the fire in his mouth and savoured it with pleasure. He suddenly felt at ease; he had the support of the head of the family, which meant that everything worked out again.

At first, his magic would do miracles. Wounds healed, diseases disappeared, inexplainable fevers ceased in minutes. But then, things would get worse sooner or later, gradually leading to death. When this happened the first time, Lamington was terrified. But as life went on, he came to like this side effect. He would only take those as patients whom he hated and wished death for; they mostly were rich fair young women. He would take lots of money, do the healing ritual, and then, after all the happy celebrations, wait for them rapidly age and die. He was a travelling vulture, never too long in one place, so the word didn’t overtake him. He was in love with his new life.

After finishing what he came for, William said his goodbyes and went outside. It was a chilly summer night, and the crickets sang in the tall grass. He took a deep breath; it was time to move on again.

Without noticing a fleeting shadow, he smiled and turned left down the dim side alley.