Lena took in the conversation as it progressed. Learning, comparing, analysing. Each new Kemmler incarnated into a new body, which probably meant that the thing which carried his life, energy, self... his soul for lack of a better word, was not a physical piece of him. Perhaps he was bound to some kind of item and simply possessed the next sad sod who happened to come across it, she'd read a book about something like that. Being in London meant access to a lot of power, potentially, and a huge amount of corpses. When the Romans invaded and "founded" Londinium there was already a settlement by the Thames, the amount of corpses in the general area would be almost impossible to calculate. On top of that, the city had its fair share of depressing history which produced corpses at an alarming rate such as the plague during the 14th century. Simply put, finding a necromancer in London could be like finding a needle in a haystack. They needed more information.

Then the alchemist, Melvus (apparently), started to bring out his tools of the trade. Lena edged herself closer so she could have a better view of what the man did. Alchemy was her passion. Mainly she mixed potions, and reckoned that she was pretty good at it, for an apprentice at least. Her potionmaking was held back thought, by her own mental brakes. She imagined she had a good handle on how magic worked, the fact that her focus item actually worked meant that at least she wasn’t far off. She based her theories on the fact that magic was fueled by belief, a wizard that did not believe in his magic could lose it. While alchemy was based unpon the real ingredients it was still an expression of magic and would obey the rule of belief. With that logic, so would the ingredients, the ingredients in themselves were just things, the important part was that the mixer believed that they were the best or most suitable ingredient for the job, and wham! Potion. The same ingredients would only mix muck for another wizard, because his mind worked differently. Lenas mind always went back to things that could be easily found or purchased, the smallest common denominator. She’d even been toying with the idea of making a potion with seven parts water, each part representing something new for each sense, but her master had shut the idea down and made her mix complicated potions with expensive ingredients for a week. She’d never heard about half of the stuff before she put them in the pot. Suffice to say, at least half of the potions failed. 

With that in mind she was a bit disappointed to see that the master alchemist was using only pure chemicals. She’d been convinced that the high-ranking members if the white court were all scientists and explorers in the field of magic like herself and would use the strangest things for ingredients and focus items. But no, pure chemicals for potions, wooden staffs and wands for focus items, regular rings, armbands, necklaces and earrings for enchanted items. Sure, they worked, obviously, but would no one ask why? And why not something else would work just as well or better? It was 1961 for Christ’s sake! Not the middle ages! Technology was a bit iffy, but that was no excuse to leave the house carrying a small tree around. 

Lena’s eyes went into full alert, and after a few blinks she figured out why. She’d zoned out and people had begun leaving. Her eyes had caught the figure of Master Regan moving to enter the mirror, but the brain hadn’t registered it properly. As the warden put her foot into the mirror Lena’s eyes had figuratively screamed that something was weird right in front of her. Assuming that this was what they were supposed to be doing, Lena followed her master into the mirror.